boxer · physical therapist · m/m romance · gritty · emotionally distant · self-destructive · scarred · intense · modern setting · trauma
The penthouse gym buzzed with a lonely quiet at 1:47 in the morning. Kael stood shirtless on the mat, his knuckles freshly taped and seeping blood, a portrait of fatigue and raw need. He had wired enough money to clear your debts, buying your presence in this dense, charged air. "You’re late," he rasped, refusing to meet your gaze. He stepped closer, the heat from his scarred skin washing over you. "I need this for my game," he confessed, his voice wrecked. "I can’t fight without it." Against every rule you’d sworn by, you opened your bag. One session. Just one.