SUMMARY: After meeting the infamous boxer known as Grayson Dolan, you both begin to play a dangerous game that involves an excessive amount of flirting, violence and sex.
"Again."
Grayson ignored the pounding ache reverberating in his skull. Ignored the fragile brittleness of his countlessly bruised bones. Ignored the thick trickle of blood seeping from his nose. He remained motionless upon the mat, too exhausted and sore to summon any semblance of strength to his trembling limbs, his swollen eyes screwed tightly shut, his breaths heaving and jagged.
Storm sneered at him whilst chucking his shirt across the room. His dark chocolate skin glistened with a sheer coat of sweat, abs embedded into his skin as his muscled flexed. He glared down at his pupil coldly,
"On your feet, Dolan."
Grayson shakily stood, his knees buckling underneath his shifting weight, his legs wobbling as he struggled to regain his balance, and, without warning, without waiting, he was immediately upon him again. Two punches to the right cheek, three jabs to the left, a swift duck to dodge Grayson's clumsy attack, a quick uppercut to the underside of his student's chin that stilled his motions, knocking him flat onto his back once again.
"How can you expect to win against the rookie," Storm questioned, looming over the collapsed body of Grayson, nonchalantly removing his gloves to crack his knuckles. "When you can't even win against me?"
His cold question wasn't expected to have a verbal retort, Grayson had learned that at the modest start of his career. Storm was a former boxer who had taken Grayson under his wing, spotting him at the gym and peaking his interest. Ever since then he became Grayson's second father basically, the one person Gray could trust with his life besides his brother.
At times he was hard on Grayson, only because he loved him dearly, he wanted to push him beyond his limits, he gave him tough love and Grayson didn't seem to appreciate that until now.
Grayson instead sucked in a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, braced for the ruthless agony awaiting him as punishment for exceeding his physical limits, and forced himself back onto his feet, controlling the uneasy sway of his body underneath the waves of pain coursing through his system.
Storm's stolid gaze eased into a cruel, calculating smirk, almost as if he was satisfied with the unspoken answer Grayson had rightfully given, as he slipped on his gloves.
"Again."
