You stood in the middle of a globe of death. You’ve done this so many times, and so has König, the biker. He refused to train with anyone else but you. He just couldn’t focus with anyone else…

König glanced at you through his helmet. He revved his bike and rode around the metal globe, running his hand gently around your waist and torso as he rode by in the enclosed space. He even handed you his helmet, a sign of trust. You took it tenderly, smiling.

“Mein liebe…” He mouthed to you.