The night at the bar had been on his mind for days, and had influenced his late night work out sessions, his fists pounding the punching bag becoming a form of therapy.
He wrapped his hands, his eyes following every wrap of the white tape around his knuckles with a new found anger, not at only himself, but the way he had let you get under his skin at the bar. Communication was hard for him, and with you being an open book, it made it that much harder to open himself up to you. It was so easy for you, and König loathed over it.
You both just didn't work.
He found his stance naturally, his hands running over the still warm bag, the duct tape circling the dark red receptacle peeling at the corners from continuous use. He eyed the sweet spot, letting the momentum of his arm hit it with a couple practice hits, not too hard, but just enough to get the bag swaying.
He gradually started hitting it harder, feeling the flush of adrenaline work it's way through the fibers in his muscle, the flourishing pain branching from his knuckles into his forearm making him drive harder into the bag, his grunts and sounds of his balled fists hitting the bag the only thing he could hear.
He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, punching endlessly until sweat started beading at his forehead, his face twisted in anger, as he let out grunts of frustration, feeling everything inside him tense with every sharp hit to the swinging bag.
It's not until he's panting, arms sore and heart throbbing that he stops, taking a few deep breaths as he tears the crimson stained tape off his knuckles, all but throwing them into the bin as his body cools off. He swings his shirt over the back of his shoulders, making his way back towards the living quarters as his thoughts finally cease.
All he could focus on was the pain radiating inside of him, deliciously painful with each step down the quiet hallway. His head turns as he sees the soft light still on under one of the commanding officers offices, backtracking as he glances over his shoulder.
Assuming whoever it was just forgot to shut it off after they left he nudges open the door, but he stops, eyes narrowed in on you. More specifically, you wrapped around one of your superiors ontop of his desk.
With a heavy clear of his throat he watches you jump, the commanding officer pulling back as his eyes immediately cast the the floor, Königs eyes burning hot. The strap to your tanktop was down your shoulder, warm bites littering the side of your neck, a subtle pink. It has his jaw clenching, but he knows it's impractical to blow up.
"Lieutenant. Corporal," he says eerily evenly, adding a biting lilt to your rank as he watches you scramble to straighten yourself up, the Sergeant turning his back as he zips his pants, and König leans against the doorframe.
"I think it's time you both report to your rooms, ja?" He says, and the Lieutenant is nodding but you're scoffing, and with you, he should've known resistance and defiance was coming.
"Are you serious?" You scoff, pressing your legs together as you sit ontop of the desk, glaring at him. Your eyes stray to his very bare torso, still glistening after what you presume was a late night workout session. You eye the Lieutenant pathetically looking at the ground, Königs rank outweighing the both of yours.
"Ja. I am. It's after hours and you're not in your rooms."
You roll your eyes again, hopping off the desk to lean against it. You knew he was only lashing out because it was you he was dealing with, and his condescending tone has your eyes narrowing.
"Now."
The word drips from his lips sternly, and it has the Lieutenant brushing past you with a muttered apology before he's slipping past König, but you don't budge. Instead you keep your arms crossed, chin tipped as you glare at him.
"Are you seriously pulling rank?" You scoff, and he can't help but feel the flickering anger blooming deep in his chest, his hands gripping the shirt hanging off his shoulders tighter. He takes a step into the office, gazing down at you with eyes so dark you can't even tell they were blue if you weren't aware of it already.
"Must I remind you of your rank, Corporal? Messing around with your superiors isn't allowed. So unless you both want to lose your jobs, I suggest you listen to me and get your ass in your room."
Your jaw tenses, your own anger bubbling inside of you as your eyes narrow, and all the pent up emotions since your break up seem to rise to the surface, as you suddenly snap back at him.
"You're being so fucking hypocritical! What was it between us, then? Must I remind you that you pursued me first? Rank didn't matter when it was you but all of a sudden it does with the Lieutenant?"
Your chest is rising choppily as you keep his eye contact, not backing down this time. His fingers fall from the shirt on the back of his neck as he feels them ball into fists, his teeth clenched as he narrows his gaze.
"What are you getting at, y/n? Do you want me to tell you that pursing you was wrong and that it was a mistake?" He asks rather loudly, stepping closer as your back bumps the edge of the desk, audibly swallowing as you now have to crane your neck to look at him. Your fingers curl around the desk behind you, his eyes focused on the way your eyes widen and your lips part slightly.
"Because it was," he says, the three words isolated and cold, and it takes everything in you not to let the lump in your throat consume you, your eyes fluttering slightly as you suck in a breath through clenched teeth. He remains close, his head shaking as he turns his focus elsewhere, gazing at the wall.
"I let you in and now look at us."
He takes a minuscule step back, his chest still rising heavily from his outburst, the anger still coursing inside of him. He eyes the way your clothes are disheveled and the marks on your neck are darkening, his head falling as he lets out a bitter chuckle.
"What's so funny?" You ask bitterly, the words rolling off your tongue like it was poison expelling from your body, his eyes rolling slightly as his head tips, unamusement flickering across his face.
"You just really know how to get around, don't you?. Next time, don't do it with someone who could have you dishonorably discharged."
Your eyes soften and your facial muscles slacken as he all but calls you a whore, your eyes narrowing as your breath hitches, shaking your head as he turns to leave.
"No! You don't get to stand there and ridicule me on how I choose to repair what you broke," You say, and he stops in his tracks, the hitch in your throat making his jaw clench, but he isn't going to do this with you.
Not here and not now.
"Y/n. Bitte," he says sternly, turning back around as he gazes at you, unable to look at your facial expression for too long without feeling guilty for his words. He clenches his jaw as he finally feels the fatigue of his earlier workout, his eyes gazing right into yours, detached.
"Just listen to me for once and go to your room."
He watches the vulnerability on your face shift to masked indifference, your spine straightening as you give him a look, shaking your head once more as you brush past him angrily. This never ending tug of war with him was becoming infuriating, the rope always seemingly slipping from your fingers in his favor.
Every time.
"Of course, Colonel. Wouldn't want to disobey my commanding officer now, would I?"
Your sarcastic response has his teeth clenching so hard it aches, his eyes watching you from the corners as you stalk from the room, his head tipping back with a sigh as his eyes momentarily close. Something about you just gets under his skin, and no matter how hard he tries to cleanse himself, there's always going to be a part of him that's forever tainted by your touch.
