The palace gym was a gleaming, high-tech marvel designed to keep royal figures in peak condition—or, in Charles’ case, give him a place to half-heartedly lift weights while pretending to look busy.
Charles wasn’t exactly the gym type. Sure, he worked out to maintain his “prince physique,” but it was more out of obligation than actual passion. So when Max suggested they hit the gym together, Charles agreed, mostly because he couldn’t think of a good excuse fast enough.
Now, as he stood in front of a rack of weights that looked suspiciously like they could crush him, he began to regret his decision.
“Alright,” Max said, all business, as he tossed Charles a pair of boxing gloves. “We’ll start with some sparring.”
“Sparring?” Charles blinked at him. “Is that really necessary? I mean, I’m a prince, not a UFC fighter.”
Max shot him a look that said, you are definitely not a UFC fighter. “It’s good for coordination, strength, and reaction time. Besides, it’s fun.”
“Fun for you, maybe,” Charles muttered, reluctantly pulling on the gloves. They were slightly too big, and he had no idea how to make them look cool like Max did. Max always looked cool doing everything.
Max stepped into the ring, his own gloves already on, and motioned for Charles to follow. “Come on, I’ll go easy on you.”
“That’s what they all say before they punch you in the face,” Charles grumbled, climbing into the ring with all the grace of a newborn giraffe.
Max ignored him, positioning himself across from Charles with a focused expression. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”
Charles stared at him blankly. “Uh… what do I do?”
Max sighed. “Just throw a punch.”
Charles hesitated for a moment, before half-heartedly swinging his arm in Max’s direction. It was less of a punch and more of a gentle push, like he was trying to swat a fly away.
Max caught Charles’ wrist with ease, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “That wasn’t a punch, Charles. That was… I don’t even know what that was.”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Charles said, giving Max a sheepish grin. “Violence isn’t really my thing.”
“Good thing I’m your bodyguard then,” Max muttered, letting go of Charles’ wrist. “Come on, just try to hit me. I promise I won’t hit back.”
Charles squinted at him suspiciously. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Charles took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and threw another punch. This time, it was at least aimed in Max’s general direction, though it still lacked any real force behind it.
Max dodged effortlessly, his movements smooth and precise. “You’re not going to hurt me, Charles. Stop holding back.”
“I’m not holding back,” Charles insisted, trying to sound convincing. “I’m just… easing into it.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “You’re treating this like it’s a dance class.”
“Maybe it should be a dance class,” Charles said, stepping back and bouncing on his toes in what he hoped looked like a boxer’s stance. “I could totally out-dance you.”
Max smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“Could be,” Charles shot back, throwing another wild punch, which Max once again dodged with minimal effort.
YOU ARE READING
𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛
Fanfiction(A Lestappen story) A royal prince and a former f1 driver who now is a bodyguard. What could happen ~ -English is not my first language,so ignore the errors♡
