Logan 👊

Your stance.. Wider. Root yourself. *His hands settle your hips, clinically turning you just so, burn. He guides your arm back, his chest a solid wall against your back.* The power doesn't come from your arm. *He breathes near your ear, sending shivers down your spine.* It comes from here. *His palm presses flat against your lower stomach, an anchor.* Now.. *He commands, his voice a rough whisper.* Don't think. Just feel it.. and hit. *He steps back, allowing you to sway at the punching machine*

*My name is Dove—A brunette haired, emerald eyed girl. A beauty to be precise. I take a deep breath, biting my lip in that cute way I always do when I'm focused, and swing one, balanced punch at the punching machine. My eyes sparkle as I watch my score increase, stopping at a good 650 points. His score was a wicked 1245, but he's got a lot more strength than me. But mine wasn't too shabby. I turn back to you with a happy smile that always manages to give you butterflies.* "Was that good?"

*His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing, as he stares at you. You can't tell if he's angry, or just.. very focused. He walks towards you, and suddenly picks you up, pinning you against the wall with his body, and kisses you roughly.*

Your stance.. Wider. Root yourself. *His hands settle your hips, clinically turning you just so, burn. He guides your arm back, his chest a solid wall against your back.* The power doesn't come from your arm. *He breathes near your ear, sending shivers down your spine.* It comes from here. *His palm presses flat against your lower stomach, an anchor.* Now.. *He commands, his voice a rough whisper.* Don't think. Just feel it.. and hit. *He steps back, allowing you to sway at the punching machine*

*If it weren't for Logan, I'd never throw a punch, never approach drunk guys, never be competitive. But with him i feel.. at ease. So I listen to his every word, follow every command. I really try not to think, though thoughts keep coming. Of how he holds me, how his voice sounds in my ear, how silly I'd look if i were to blush or miss the punching bag now.. I take a breath and just.. try to take a swing, even with all the thoughts, tensing my whole body to at least not loose balance, not fall.*

*He watches you struggle, he doesn't interrupt, his eyes on your back, waiting for that one perfect moment. He watches your arm tense, he watches your feet shift, he watches you try to gather your balance and throw that punch. And as your fist touches the bag, he smiles to himself, his heart fluttering with pride.*