Viktor Vektor x Reader

Twenty-Three

And once again you felt bad. Actually, you had only wanted to ask him for a few hours.

But as nice as he was, Vik had insisted on training with you. It felt as if you had made him help you through pity. And yet, even without your predicament, he probably would have helped.

That seemed to be his thing. Helping people.

Who would help him when he needed some?

Who would stitch his wounds and patiently teach him to walk again?

Somehow that was a sad thought.

You stood in Viktor's clinic with your shoulders slumped. In front of you dangled a punching bag, bigger and heavier than you had ever seen.

Viktor was wrapping bandages around his hands. It was a little scary how good he looked in that dark light, shadows wrapped around his face while neon pink kissed his pale skin.

He had taken off the blue shirt with blood stains. All that remained were his old boots, black trousers and the white vest he had tucked behind his belt.

His arms were massive and the way his chest moved revealed that he still had a six pack even though his career had been several decades ago.

Even though it was no surprise, you had to admit that he was incredibly good looking. So good that you could feel your cheeks getting warm. Good thing it was dark and he couldn't see your face.

"Wouldn't it be smarter to take off the glasses?", you asked as he stood on the other side of the bag and grabbed it with both hands.

A smirk appeared on his lips. He hadn't shaved for a few days and a dark shadow was visible.

"Show me what you got.", he chuckled and pounded the heavy bag with his fist. "Shouldn't be too much of a hassle. New chrome and all."

You were about to pull a punch as, all of a sudden, your body froze. You totally forgot about the new implants. Even though that was something good, better stamina, harder punches, you felt like your body was different now.

You knew how flesh moved. How much effort you needed to slip away and jump out of danger.

But what about chrome?

It wasn't heavier, at least you wouldn't have said so. Your legs still carried you the same way. But you hadn't had a chance before to try and do what you knew best.

Boxing.

For the last few days you had been on edge all the time. Survival mode was all you knew. Now that a moment of calm occurred you almost felt insecure.

"Don't worry.", the deep grain of Viktor's voice made you snap out of your thoughts. "You'll do just fine. Try it."

He stood right behind the punching back.

"What if I hit you?", you asked, insecure.

He tilted his head.

"Been punched a couple of times.", he said with a shrug. "One more won't kill me."

A sarcastic smirk appeared on your lips.

"What if it does? Don't wanna brag but I got a nasty uppercut."

"I know. Seen you in action already. To be honest, you're not half bad, sweetheart. I'm impressed. Liked what I saw."

Obviously, that was meant to be a compliment. But not in a sexual manner. Perhaps. He just admired your skills as a boxer.

And you had to admit, even though modesty was an honourable trait to have, you wouldn't play down your own abilities. If there was one thing you were good at it was boxing.

Flattered, your heart skipped a beat.

Why did he make you feel this way?

Every time he said something, a compliment as simple as it could be or just a tug of his lips to show off this smile of his.

Every time his gaze fell onto you, you could feel how your body reacted to it. You even believed you could sense when his eyes lingered on your face.

And it was not that uncommon either.

No, you shook that thought off. You didn't want to gaslight yourself into believing he could have been interested in you beyond his usual kindness.

This was just the way he was. Kind and charming.

Fuck, but why was that exactly what made you jittery?

It was as if your body burned for him. Your soul craved for his touch. Every single cell of your body answered whenever his voice asked a question.

This man was not only your exact type by the way he looked, but you slowly found yourself realising that he was also your type in every single other way.

He was so different from the people you associated with on a usual basis.

He was better. Too good for you.

"You okay?", Viktor asked.

Confused, you blinked.

"Huh? Uh... yeah, yeah I'm fine.", you took a stance once more.

Almost immediately, a smug smirk lit up his face.

Annoyed, you rolled your eyes.

"What am I doin' wrong, doc?", you asked with your teeth bared and an aggressive smile on your lips.

"Short temper, I see.", maybe it was critique, maybe he just wanted to tease you, you weren't sure.

"Anythin' against that?", you gave the bag a firm punch, not too hard but hard enough for him to take a step back and swing with it.

He stopped the punching bag from swinging in the air and took position again. He almost had to chuckle.

"Just how I like em'.", he admitted and dug as you tried to, absolutely accidentally, air for his head.

"Oh, I got a whole lota that!", your foot shifted your stance, moved to the side and places a few more punches.

Leather and sand bend below your fists. It felt good to finally blow off some steam again. And despite the unknown grounds you felt good about the movements of your body.

Your punches felt more efficient now. Before the implants, you had needed quite a bit more stamina to put much force into each more.

But now you just reached out and it was like a tank rolling through a wall of concrete.

"Fuck me!", you gasped, a broad smile on your face, as you took a deep breath and jumped forward to punch some more.

His eyebrows flinched as you said so. He played with a thought but didn't say it out loud.

"Easy there, sweetheart.", all of a sudden Viktor let go of the punching bag and met you face to face. "You're slow on your feet. Lemme check that out."