Martin knew he was an adrenaline junkie. He enjoyed the car fighting. The thrill of sitting there waiting mere seconds for everything to start.

It was bloody, aggressive and primal. He knew well that one second he could wrap the seatbelt around someone’s neck and the other he might be in the same position.

He enjoyed the money he was winning after each fight. The feeling of victory and control over someone’s life when he was inside that car.

There were injuries. They were a part of it all. Not the best but Martin could take it.

As much as he didn’t like getting them, he liked how you tended to his battle wounds. Applying gel over his black eye, cleaning the blood from around the cut on his nose with a cotton swab or even hiding the mark on his skin that seatbelt made with your concealer.

You were always around. Not a girlfriend but not only a friend either. What you had between was too deep to be just friends with benefits. It was strange. But Martin took great comfort that you never pushed, that you were patient, that you let him kiss you and that you always stayed in the morning after your night together.

You might be a little disapproving of his car fights but honestly? Martin could live with that.

“Ouch” he said as you wiped the cut with cotton swab but not even a grimace appeared on his face.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with you standing between his legs leaning to get a closer look at his beaten face in the dim lighting of the room.