Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy-Chapter 82 - 83 | Proper Form and Improper Thoughts

Cheon stood at the edge of the training mats with her arms crossed and that little furrow between her eyebrows that meant she was thinking hard about something. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, catching the harsh gym lights in a way that made my hands itch to touch it again.

I forced myself to focus. Six in the morning. First real training session. Battle Trials in two days.

Right.

"So," Mera said, stretching her arms over her head in a way that lifted her sports bra just enough to show the underside of her breasts. "What’s the plan, Panda?"

Cheon’s eye twitched at the nickname, but she didn’t correct it. Progress.

"We should start with dynamic stretching," she said. "Warm up the muscles properly before any weighted exercise or combat drills."

"Makes sense." I dropped down to the mat and started working on my hamstrings. "You’re in charge."

Mera followed my lead, sprawling out with her legs in a wide V. "Yeah. Teach us, professor."

Cheon blinked. "You’re actually listening to me?"

"You’re the one who shows up to these things," I said. "I’ve never been here once. Mera skips half the time. You know what you’re doing."

"I skip because it’s boring," Mera added. "Not because I don’t know the routine."

Cheon’s posture relaxed a fraction. The rigid line of her shoulders dropped, and she uncrossed her arms. "Fine. But if you don’t take this seriously, I’m leaving."

"We’re serious." I reached for my toes, feeling the pull in my lower back. "Promise."

She studied us for another moment, then nodded once. "Alright. Follow my lead."

What followed was the most educational torture session I’d experienced since getting shoved into this body.

Cheon walked us through leg swings, arm circles, hip rotations. All the basic stuff that sounded easy until you actually had to do it properly for ten minutes straight. My thighs started burning halfway through, and I saw Mera grimace when we hit the deep lunges.

But Cheon was in her element.

She corrected my form when I tried to rush through the stretches. Demonstrated the proper way to engage my core during the rotations. Explained the reasoning behind each movement in that clipped, efficient tone she used when she was explaining homework to confused classmates.

"Your shoulders are too tight," she told me, walking around to stand behind me. "You’re compensating with your lower back."

"Noted."

Her hands touched my shoulders, pressing down. "Relax. You’re holding tension here."

The drain pulsed between us at the contact. Warm. Immediate.

I felt her Essentia spike, bright and sharp like touching a live wire, and she pulled her hands back fast.

"Sorry," I said, glancing back at her. "Can’t always control it."

"It’s fine." Her cheeks were pink again, but she stepped closer and put her hands back on my shoulders. "Just focus on the stretch."

Easier said than done when she was standing that close and I could smell the faint floral scent of the shampoo she’d used in my shower this morning.

I tried. Dropped my shoulders. Let the tension bleed out.

"Better," she said quietly.

Mera watched us with her chin propped on one hand, grinning like this was the best entertainment she’d seen all week.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the show."

Cheon pulled her hands away and moved to stand in front of us again, all business. "Next we’re doing resistance training. Basic compound movements. Squats, deadlifts, push-ups."

"How many sets?" Mera asked.

"Three. Fifteen reps each."

"That’s not so bad."

"At tempo," Cheon added. "Three seconds down, one second up. No bouncing."

Mera’s grin faded. "Oh. That’s worse."

"It’s effective." Cheon grabbed a yoga mat and spread it out on the floor. "Rome, you start with push-ups. Mera, squats. I’ll rotate between you to check form."

I dropped to the mat and got into position. Hands shoulder-width apart. Core tight. Feet together.

"Ready?" Cheon asked.

"Yeah."

"Go."

I lowered myself slowly, counting three full seconds in my head. My chest touched the mat. I pushed back up in one smooth motion.

"Good," Cheon said from somewhere behind me. "Again."

I did. Again. And again.

By the tenth rep, my arms were shaking.

By the fifteenth, I was cursing internally and questioning every decision that led me to this moment.

I finished the set and collapsed face-first onto the mat, breathing hard.

"That was one set," Cheon said cheerfully. "Two more to go."

"You’re enjoying this," I muttered into the mat.

"Maybe a little."

I rolled over and sat up, catching my breath. Across the training area, Mera was finishing her squats with her tail flicking behind her in irritation. Sweat gleamed on her red skin, and the way her chest heaved with each breath was doing things to my focus I absolutely did not need right now.

Cheon noticed me staring and cleared her throat. "Rome. Second set."

Right.

I got back into position and started again.

This time Cheon knelt beside me, watching my form with those sharp grey eyes. "You’re dropping your hips too much on the way down. Keep them level."

"Like this?"

"Better." She leaned closer, and I felt her hand press lightly against my lower back. "Engage here. Don’t let it sag."

The drain opened wider at the touch. Her Essentia flooded through the connection, bright and electric, cycling back into her in rhythm with my breathing.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. Down. Up. Down. Up.

"Eleven," Cheon counted. "Twelve. Don’t stop now."

"Wasn’t planning to."

"Thirteen. Fourteen."

My arms were screaming. My chest burned.

"Fifteen."

I dropped to the mat again, rolling onto my back this time. "Fuck."

Cheon stood over me, hands on her hips, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "One more set."

"You’re sadistic."

"I’m thorough." She offered me a hand. "Up."

I took it and let her pull me to my feet. The drain pulsed again, warmer this time, and I caught the way her breath hitched before she let go.

"Switch," she called to Mera. "Rome on squats. You’re on push-ups."

Mera groaned but moved to the mat. I grabbed the small weight bar Cheon pointed to and got into position.

"Same tempo," Cheon said, moving to stand in front of me. "Three seconds down, one up. And go."

I started. Down. Hold. Up.

Cheon circled me slowly, studying my form from every angle. "Knees out. Don’t let them cave in."

I adjusted.

"Good. Keep your chest up."

Another rep. My thighs started burning.

"You’re leaning too far forward," she said, stepping closer. "Here."

Her hands touched my hips, guiding them back slightly. The drain spiked hard, and I felt her Essentia flood through me in a wave that went straight to my dick.

Not helpful.

"Like that," she said, her voice a little breathless. "Feel the difference?"

"Yeah." I managed another rep. "Feel it."

Her hands stayed on my hips, and I could feel the heat of her palms through my compression shorts. Every time I dropped into the squat, her fingers tightened slightly, like she was anchoring herself.

Behind us, Mera was swearing through her push-ups. "This is bullshit. How do you do this every morning?"

"Practice," Cheon said without looking away from me. "And discipline."