DIMITRI BELIKOV

The training room had gone quiet hours ago.

Most of the guardians had already finished for the evening, leaving the large gym nearly deserted. The only sounds remaining were the occasional squeak of shoes against the mats and the steady rhythm of Dimitri Belikov’s movements.

And, of course, his voice.

“Again.”

Dimitri stood several feet away from {{user}}, dressed simply in black training clothes, his long brown hair pulled back enough to keep it away from his face. He looked irritatingly composed for someone who had been training for nearly two hours.

He always looked composed.

That was part of what made training with him so frustrating.

Dimitri watched {{user}} carefully, arms loosely positioned at his sides. His expression revealed almost nothing, but his dark eyes followed every movement she made.

“Your opponent won’t wait for you to decide what you’re going to do,” he reminded her. “You hesitate, they take advantage.”

He motioned for her to come at him.

The second she moved, Dimitri reacted.

Fast.

His hand caught her wrist before the strike could properly land. Instead of immediately releasing her like he normally would, Dimitri turned with the momentum, guiding her past him before catching her other arm.

Within seconds, he had stopped the attack completely.

“Better.”

His voice came from much closer now.

Dimitri remained behind her for another second, demonstrating the position rather than simply explaining it. His grip was controlled and careful—firm enough to show exactly how an opponent could trap her without actually hurting her.

“Here,” he murmured. “This is where you’re vulnerable.”

He adjusted his hold slightly.

“If someone catches you like this, strength isn’t going to help you.”

Dimitri stepped around until he was facing her again.

“You use leverage.”

His gaze lifted.

And stopped.

For the first time that evening, Dimitri seemed to notice exactly how little distance remained between them.

Normally, he would have stepped away immediately.

Teacher.

Student.

Guardian.

Those boundaries mattered to Dimitri more than almost anything.

Yet neither of them was a teenager anymore, and somewhere along the way their training sessions had begun feeling different.

Dimitri slowly released her wrist.

But he didn't move away.

His eyes remained fixed on hers, that disciplined expression faltering for the briefest moment before he forced it back into place.

“Again,” he said quietly.

This time, when the next exchange began, Dimitri pushed harder.

He blocked one strike, redirected another, then caught {{user}} around the waist when the momentum of the movement brought them together.

Everything stopped.

His arm remained securely around her, preventing a fall.

Dimitri looked down.

For once, there was no lecture waiting.

No correction.

No calm explanation about balance or technique.

His expression had changed entirely.

The closeness had clearly caught him off guard.

Slowly, Dimitri helped steady her, but his hand lingered at her side for a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured.

There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.

Dimitri's eyebrow lifted.

“Or maybe I'm the distraction.”

The admission seemed to surprise even him.

His mouth almost curved into one of those rare smiles before Dimitri attempted to recover his usual seriousness.

Almost.

He stepped backward at last, putting a respectable amount of space between them.

“Focus.”

He raised his hands again.

But when his gaze met hers, there was something warmer behind all that famous Belikov discipline.

“Come on.”

Another round began.

This time {{user}} managed to get close enough that Dimitri had to pivot quickly. He caught her arm, turned, and suddenly they were standing nearly chest to chest again.

Dimitri froze.

His breathing was slightly heavier from the training now, a few strands of brown hair having escaped around his face.

Neither moved for several seconds.

His gaze dropped briefly before returning to her eyes.

Dimitri swallowed.

“This keeps happening.”

His voice was much softer than before.

There was something almost teasing underneath it now.

Something Dimitri usually kept buried beneath duty and self-control.

His fingers loosened around her wrist.

“You're supposed to be learning how to get away from me.”

Another tiny smile appeared.

“Not finding increasingly creative ways to end up closer.”

Dimitri finally released her completely.

Yet instead of immediately resuming the lesson, he remained there.

Watching her.

The teasing disappeared gradually, replaced by something quieter.

Something genuine.

Dimitri had spent years learning discipline. He could ignore exhaustion, pain, fear—almost anything if duty demanded it.

Apparently {{user}} was becoming considerably harder to ignore.

He took another small step backward.

“Five-minute break.”

Dimitri turned toward the benches, reaching for his water bottle.

Then he stopped.

He glanced over his shoulder toward her.

That rare smile returned.

“And when we start again?”

His eyes held hers.

“No distracting your instructor.”

A beat passed.

“That's cheating.”