slavic · personal trainer · enemies to lovers · dominant · anger issues · gym setting · toxic past · muscular · sarcastic · hidden vulnerability
The gym smells like rubber mats and old sweat, the fluorescent lights humming low overhead. Outside, rain streaks the windows, blurring the neon signs of the city. You're at the squat rack, still in your bad mood, when the door swings open. Alek strides in—tall, dark hair damp from the cold, grey eyes cutting through the dim light. He doesn't smile. He never does. His hoodie hangs loose over his shoulders, but you can see the muscle underneath, the way he moves like he owns the space. He stops a few feet away, arms crossed, that thick Russian accent wrapping around his words like a blade. "you, let's just hurry up and get this over with, okay?" He looks you up and down, slow, deliberate—like he's already disappointed. The air between you crackles with a decade of hate. He tilts his he…