First Bell, First Clue? - Laxia(D) vs. Bandita

[Letta]

Laxia still lay sprawled across the mat, dazed by the impact of the Látigo Bandolera, her limbs heavy and the overhead lights reduced to pale, unfocused smears. A shadow passed over them, and her half-lidded eyes opened a little wider as Bandita appeared upside down in her hazy vision, flushed and breathing hard. The luchadora lowered herself until their breasts met, warmth spreading through their sweat-slick skin as their bodies shifted apart with each inhale and settled together again with every exhale. Bandita’s heartbeat seeped into Laxia’s clouded senses, fast and ragged like her own. She was merely taking the shortest, most efficient route to complete the pin, Laxia told herself, though the thought grew harder to hold onto as Bandita slid farther upward, her breasts brushing beneath Laxia’s before her taut, glistening abdomen descended over the noblewoman’s face, warm skin covering her eyes and pressing softly over her nose and lips.

“Mmph...!”

Laxia’s groan sounded dull and muffled against Bandita’s stomach. At the same time, Bandita’s face settled against Laxia’s abdomen. Her lips and chin brushed the damp skin first before she turned her head, pressing her cheek firmly into the center of Laxia’s stomach. Her uneven breath spread warmly across Laxia’s abs. The sensation sent a faint tremor through the noblewoman’s body, her abdomen tightening almost imperceptibly of its own accord. The small tension that formed beneath Bandita’s cheek passed unmistakably through their joined skin. One woman’s breath and the other’s subtle muscular reactions traveled back and forth through their bodies, silently revealing their condition to one another. “Hhmmph....” The sound that escaped her was once again swallowed by Bandita’s body and reduced to a faint, distorted murmur. But Bandita did not stop there.

Keeping hold of Laxia’s hips, she pushed against the mat with her knees and dragged herself farther upward. The cheek pressing into Laxia’s stomach slid higher, moving dangerously close to the noblewoman’s intimate area, while Bandita’s hips soon settled firmly against her face. The contact made Laxia blush in embarrassment. Bandita’s left arm wrapped around Laxia’s left thigh, while the other reached for the inner side of her right. Her palm pressed into the sweat-dampened skin, fingers slowly closing around the firm muscle beneath it as though kneading it..

“Hhmmffmph......!!”

Laxia’s right thigh tightened beneath Bandita’s hand. A moment later, the reaction spread throughout her body and caused her to jerk briefly against the mat. A heated moan burst between the lips pinned beneath Bandita’s hips, but the sound remained trapped between their bodies, escaping only as a low, distorted vibration. At that moment, Laxia found herself almost grateful that Bandita’s body concealed her completely. Otherwise, both the audience and the cameras would have seen her flushed face and realized exactly what kind of sound had just escaped her lips. At the same time, the pressure of the fingers gripping her inner thigh spread along her exhausted leg, awakening sensations she had thought had already gone numb. It should have been humiliating. Her disheveled hair and sweat-soaked body. Her face hidden beneath Bandita and her helpless position beneath the cameras. Laxia, who had always guarded her composure and dignity, had never been left in such complete disarray. And yet it was not entirely unpleasant. With both dignity and restraint cast aside, the unfamiliar sense of liberation flowing through her body felt strangely vivid.

Bandita arched her back downward and pressed herself more firmly against Laxia. Her knees spread wider to secure the position. Then Bandita raised her head and pulled back with her left arm. Only then did Laxia’s left leg rise high from the mat. Her thigh was drawn into the space between Bandita’s neck and shoulder, while the luchadora tilted her head and pressed her cheek softly against the sweat-slick skin of its inner side. Her hot, ragged breath tickled Laxia’s thigh. Bandita’s fingers still held the firm muscle along the inside of her right thigh. One leg was raised high and trapped between the luchadora’s arm and cheek, while the other remained pinned beneath her palm. Laxia’s back was pressed completely flat against the mat. The referee’s hand descended.

“ONE!”

The vibration of the referee’s hand traveled through Laxia’s back and shoulders, drawing her scattered sensations into focus. Her left leg was raised high, her back flattened beneath Bandita, and the luchadora’s body rose and fell over her with every breath. The heat against her face and the hand gripping her inner thigh continued to stir her clouded consciousness, tempting her to simply close her eyes and let the third count pass. She could no longer tell whether that would be a conscious acceptance of defeat or merely surrender to the sensations surrounding her. But that uncertainty was precisely why she could not allow the match to end. Bandita’s earlier words resurfaced through the haze, and frustration flared within her. Bandita had once again surpassed her expectations, bringing her down with a flawless technique and pinning her beneath the cameras with the full weight of her body.

Laxia could not deny that Bandita might already have earned her respect, but respect and surrender were not the same. She had yet to give her own answer, and she refused to let this helpless image become her final one. That thought sparked life in her dulled consciousness just as Bandita’s fingers tightened again around her right inner thigh. The warm pressure sent a tremor through the exhausted muscle, awakening sensations Laxia would once have tried to suppress in shame. This time, she seized them. Bandita had used the turnbuckles and Laxia’s own body to complete her technique; Laxia could likewise turn the sensations coursing through her into the strength to move. She tried to twist free, but Bandita had her pinned from head to waist, her left leg securely trapped and her shoulders too weak to rise. Only her right leg remained free as the referee’s hand struck the mat a second time.

"TWO..!!"

At the second count, Laxia’s right heel weakly scraped across the canvas. Only a few inches, and it touched nothing, but the leg had moved. The tension awakened beneath Bandita’s hand traveled from her thigh through her knee and calf to the tips of her toes. Rather than suppress the warm, almost guilty thrill, Laxia seized it and turned it into motion. Her boot slid across the mat again while Bandita’s cheek remained pressed to the inside of her raised left thigh, each labored breath making the trapped muscle tremble faintly. As the referee raised a hand for the third count, Laxia’s free foot searched once more and finally brushed against something rough and taut. The rope. Just... a little farther... Unable to lift her leg, Laxia pushed one last time with her heel. Her boot slipped beneath the rope, and her ankle barely settled across it. That was all. Neither her shoulders nor her hips had moved, and Bandita remained sealed tightly over her. Laxia had not escaped the pin; she had only used the sensations awakened by the luchadora’s touch to delay the end of the match.

[CyanDimitrik]

Each tremor, each quake, is Bandita's to experience. No one else in the arena will know about them. No one else in the arena will feel them; the way Laxia's body seems to react to the pressure. Whether it's the aftershocks of the impact with the mat or something else is, at first, a mystery. But not when she feels the buzzing vibrations of Laxia's vocalizations, first against her belly, then lower, lower still, until directly against her hips. That was practically unmistakable as a moan; drawn out, throaty, humming against the girl's base. It elicits a new tension, both electrical and hot at the same time, and threatens to override Bandita's senses in the pin. Everything in her wants to press in tighter, to feel that again, and more deeply. What she can't suppress is the private shudder it causes in her, easily felt against Laxia's face and chest. It runs through Bandita's body all the way to her breath as she turns her face discreetly tighter into Laxia's inner thigh - as the shuddered breath beats against her skin.

It's confusing everything, when the only thing she wants to think about is pinning Laxia and finishing things. She'd already lost out on anything more coming from this entanglement, she's convinced herself of that. But that doesn't erase the desire for more to come of it, and it's from that latent desire that the rogue cannot suppress. That spurs her to press herself just a little more assertively against Laxia's body, to feel the warmth against herself, the other woman's curves, her skin. Every flex of the thigh muscles brings her to squeeze her fingers against them a little tighter, to press her face into it a little more like a nuzzle.

"TWO..!"

It's almost over. She doesn't want it to be over. She wants to keep wrestling with her. She wants to erase all semblances of doubt from Laxia's mind, she wants to make her acknowledge her, she wants - against all rationality - to fix what was broken, and the only way she knows to keep her here is in the ring. Wrestling her. Beating her. Breaking her body down and pinning her. If the bell rings, it all comes to an end!

But there's no releasing her now. She's not that person who'll continue beating up someone who's unable to answer a three-count. The audience would hate it. Laxia would hate it for multiple reasons. And Bandita would hate it, herself. She's not that cruel person. This is the end for them--

"ROPE BREAK!," shouts the referee suddenly.

Bandita's face turns sharply, eyes wide and cheeks visibly flushed. It's not the leg that she has captive, couldn't be! Is it an arm? Does she have Dhalsim arms!? ..No, no, that's crazy! It's--

The other leg. She felt it tensing, shifting under her hand and assumed it was over the touches. Was she projecting that onto the aristocrat lying beneath her? Maybe. But.. those vibrations, the shudders, the humming buzz of her lips beneath her hips, those were undeniable...

"She has the rope, let go! One! Two!"

"Ah!," panics Bandita, suddenly and sharply rearing back from Laxia to break contact. Despite her namesake, breaking rules is something she basically never does! Certainly not on her own for want of convenience or easy wins!

Her head tilts to look down now at Laxia's face, her head framed neatly between her toned, tanned thighs. If those eyes were open, there'd be a moment of breathless eye contact, taking her in. Trying to read her, trying to gauge her ability to fight back. She dragged her boot into place, she has to still be in it. That means she gets more time with her. She won't waste it. She's going to eliminate any doubts in Laxia's mind that she thinks less of her, that she thinks she's some kind of charity, or looks down on her. And she's going to do that by going rough on her.

Just not with a submission.

Scooting back further on her knees, Bandita reaches down to hook her arms beneath Laxia's shoulders. "Unh," is the soft, feminine grunt of effort as she pulls her up to her feet, expecting to have to do most of the lifting. But once she's upright, those arms will relocate to wrapping around Laxia's midsection. Not to crush, but to squeeze her body back against her, reintroducing the back of Laxia's shoulders tot he softness of Bandita's breasts. She means to pull her along to the center of the ring, each exhale beating warmly against the nape of her neck.

"If I have to work for it.. all 'de better..," Bandita murmurs to her. "But I want it. You're gonna see.. just how hard.."