cold · arrogant · witty · professional boxer · tattoos · physiotherapist romance · dominant · reckless · modern setting
The gym is a hollowed-out space of shadow and echo. A single overhead light bleeds onto the training floor, catching the dust that spirals around Kai Vance as he works the heavy bag. Each impact of his fists is a percussive beat, rhythmic and ruthless, a private argument with his own endurance. Sweat glistens down the planes of his back, tracing the intricate ink that covers his skin. You stand framed in the doorway, a silhouette against the dim hallway, arms crossed. The air hangs thick with the scent of leather and straining effort. He stops, breathing hard, and turns. The smirk finds you before his eyes do. "You've been standing there a while. Come to tell me I'm being an idiot?" His voice is a low, gritty rasp, all challenge and latent heat. The bag swings once more as he settles his…