Aftershock (For CyanDimitrik)

[Letta]

With both hands cradling Bandita's soft cheeks, Laxia allowed the kiss to deepen. It felt almost dreamlike. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, her body still aching and heavy from the punishment of the match. Or perhaps it was simply the woman in front of her. Somewhere along the way, Laxia stopped trying to think and simply surrendered herself to the sweetness of the moment. Even the shift in their positions felt natural. As though they already understood what the other wanted, their bodies moved together with effortless fluidity. Before long, Laxia found herself sinking back into the couch with Bandita settling over her.

“Mmm....”

When Bandita's arms wrapped around her narrow waist, whatever distance remained between them disappeared. Their chests pressed together, their abdomens meeting with every breath, and just as they had in the ring, Bandita's body naturally slipped between Laxia's thighs. The sensation was familiar, yet completely different, spreading through her like an electric current. “Mmmh....!” A muffled sound escaped between their kisses. Laxia pulled Bandita closer still, her fingers tightening against the luchadora's shoulders as though unwilling to let even the slightest distance return between them. Eventually, Bandita broke the kiss.

“Hah.... haaa....”

Laxia drew in heated breaths of her own. Her face was flushed a vivid red, her blue eyes only half-open and softened by a languid haze. As the rush slowly began to settle, the practiced aloofness and carefully maintained dignity faded from her expression with it. What remained was something much softer. Warm, gentle, and affectionate. The Laxia hidden behind the noblewoman's mask, a side of herself she rarely allowed anyone else to see. With her guard lowered, there was even something unexpectedly simple and slightly awkward about the way she gazed up at Bandita. When the confession came, Laxia could only offer a faint smile.

The sweet whisper against her ear made her grip the edge of the couch again, but she could not think of anything to say in return. How could she? Everything Bandita described felt far too much like her own experience. She had not been able to get the luchadora out of her mind either. Not when she had pinned Bandita. Not when Bandita had trapped her beneath her in return. During the match she had fought desperately to escape those situations, yet somehow every one of them remained impossibly vivid. “...I felt the same.” Laxia's voice came out breathy. “When you had me... when I had you. Somehow, every bit of it...” The rest never made it out.

Bandita's body pressed closer once again. The warmth carried through every point where they touched, until even the last trace of space between them disappeared. Her hips shifted against Laxia's, and somehow that smallest movement carried more weight than all the closeness before it. Their lower curves found one another as though slipping naturally into a place already remembered, leaving Laxia acutely aware of every inch where they met.Laxia's body jolted sharply in response. Her head tipped back on instinct, exposing the line of her throat as the orange hair she had so carefully fixed only moments ago scattered with the motion.

“Aaaah...! Nnnh...!!”

There was no time to hide it this time. The raw sound slipped straight past her lips. One hand clutched the edge of the couch until her knuckles went pale, while the other instinctively tangled itself into the hair she had only just managed to put back in order, ruining it all over again. Her back arched tautly away from the cushions for a moment before sinking down again, a fine tremor following from her shoulders through her waist. She had thought the lingering sensations were finally beginning to fade. She had been wrong. The heat that had settled beneath the surface suddenly flared back to life, carrying everything she had felt before along with it. What had been little more than a lingering echo moments ago swelled into another powerful wave that swept through her all at once. This time, Laxia did not even think about resisting it.

[CyanDimitrik]

Any notions of hesitating or second-guesses that might've lingered and dared to hiss in Bandita's ear was quelled the instant Laxia's bod reacted in that deeply natural way; everything from the intense arch of her back to the sound she made, how her arms reached up and out, as if exquisitely anguished. Not only was the lower friction new, exciting, and thrilling for its own sake, but this felt raw. Powerful.

The Latina is helpless to resist the rush of instincts taking over, demanding more of that contact. More intensely. She wants more of that heat, more of that tension, she's craving the sound of Laxia's voice, the feel of her slender body arcing up against her in a struggle not to break free, but to stay pinned.

Dark thighs press between Laxia's as she widens the spread, and she rolls her body against the form so desperately offered up to her. Breasts slide beneath Laxia's, pushing upwards against her in a heavy grind. Every point of sensitivity meeting, the rapid beat of her heart, nothing hidden from the ginger. Her midsection flexes as her beaten abdominals slide against the other girl's, reveling in the feel of her warm, tensing muscletone, every inhale pushing them together, every exhale causing the abs to tighten against one another, to feel more defined and pronounced against the skin. But the hips are where the focus is now, Bandita's finding the sweetspot slightly beneath and in front of Laxia's in meeting. And once she's found the point that elicited that delectable reaction, she begins shifting against her, rocking herself intimately forward and back, feeling the other girl out through the material of their trunks.

"Anh.. anh.. anh..!"

Each stroke carries with it a tightened breath, every exhale bathing her fair skin with wet warmth. And soon, her lips are occupied with Laxia's flesh, finding the exposed neck seemingly offered. Irresistibly offered. Planted upon the side of her throat, she suckles on the skin, tongue edged out to taste her for the first time. Her body remains locked and grinding upon the her princess's, riding her form.

[Letta]

The more Laxia's body arched, the more tightly the two of them seemed to press together. There hardly seemed to be any room left between them, yet Laxia still wrapped both arms around Bandita's back and pulled her closer into her embrace. The warmth of her body, the rise and fall of her breath, the tension shifting through her muscles, even the frantic pounding of her heart beneath it all. Laxia wanted to feel every bit of it. She did not want to miss a thing.

“Ba... Bandita...”

Her half-lidded blue eyes, hazy with bliss, searched for the hazel-green gaze behind the mask. After all the grappling, struggling, pinning, and tangling they had shared in the ring, this almost felt like some strange ultimate reward. They were both exhausted. Battered. Sweat-soaked. Too spent to even properly catch their breath. And yet to Laxia, Bandita somehow looked more captivating now than she ever could have while perfectly composed. She hugged the luchadora closer despite already having her pressed against her. Closer. Tighter. As though she wanted to carve the memory of this moment somewhere deep inside herself. Perhaps she had grown too greedy. The instant Bandita finally found the reaction she had been searching for, Laxia's drunkenly lowered eyes suddenly flew wide again.

“Aah.......!!”

One hand instinctively rose to cover her mouth. With every continued motion, Laxia's body gave another short, sharp jolt. Once. Then again. The more she tried to contain herself, the more honestly her body seemed to answer for her. Every involuntary jolt threatened to pull her away for a heartbeat, yet each time Laxia's arms only tightened around Bandita, dragging the luchadora closer again. Her fingers dug more firmly into Bandita's back. If she had truly wanted to let go, she would have done so already. She did not. Instead, every new rush only made her cling tighter. Her own trembling seemed to travel through the space between them and return amplified, each reaction feeding the next until Laxia could no longer tell where one sensation ended and another began.

The ponytail she had so carefully restored only minutes ago was already coming apart again, loose orange strands clinging to her flushed cheeks and damp neck. Bandita had spent the match learning what made Laxia tense, gasp, struggle, and stare. Now, without a referee or audience between them, Laxia was letting her learn an entirely different set of answers. And Bandita did not leave the exposed line of Laxia's neck alone for long.

“Nnnhh.....!”

The warm breath against her throat was followed by an even more intimate touch. Bandita's tongue slipped out cautiously, the very tip brushing against Laxia's exposed neck before beginning to trace along the sensitive curve with slow, exploratory strokes. Warm, soft, and faintly damp. Each pass left a lingering sensation behind, and when the tip of her tongue lingered for just a moment longer against a particularly sensitive spot, another shiver visibly ran through Laxia's body. The earlier reactions had been sudden, sharp flashes, but this was slower and deeper.

A gentle ripple that seemed to follow the path of Bandita's tongue, spreading beneath Laxia's skin long after the touch itself had moved on. She could no longer decide which kind was more dangerous. Her breathing lost its rhythm, and her thoughts followed soon after. Everything she had been holding back swelled at once, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyelids trembled, and her unfocused gaze slowly rolled upward.

“I... I...!”

Her lips trembled as though she desperately needed to say something, but nothing followed. She did not push Bandita away. Instead, Laxia pulled her even tighter into her arms. As though she knew full well that whatever was sweeping through her might carry her somewhere she had never dared to go before, and yet had no intention whatsoever of letting go of the reins.

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita answers the exquisite vocalizations of Laxia with a humming, buzzing, "Mmnh~..," against the girl's neck, lips refusing to leave the skin she's discovered. Most importantly, she's refusing to leave that particular spot she'd found that created the deep, reverberating reaction in the other girl's body. Because in truth, the longer the two remained together, the more she craved causing those reactions in her. From the moment she felt Laxia may have been enjoying the feel of her body pressed into her in the ring, a subtle look, the faint flush of her cheeks, she wanted more of it. She wanted to explore it further, to see how far she could push it. It's new, exciting, a taboo she's never done before, and with a person she admired for her beauty, grace, poise.. and eventually, the secret sweetness stirring beneath the surface. Beneath the regal exterior.

That's where the scandal lay, though. The thrill of it. And knowing the aristocrat is currently lying beneath her, her body shuddering with every eager stroke Bandita provides, after conquering her in the ring in front of everyone - that just makes it more spicy. She's not supposed to be doing this. She's pretty sure neither of them are. But she pinned her. She earned this moment over her, through dominating her body. That version was out there, in public. This version is back here, in private. Because claiming dominance over the noble was more than just for competition, it turned out - it was for keeps.

The grinding becomes more aggressive. Thighs flex as her knees push into the cushions of the couch, every stroke of her smooth hips against Laxia's issuing a blanketing heat. The awareness that her most intimate point has met the other girl's, and there's no resistance in the fevered brush of herself against her, creates a brand new thrill. It gives her warrant to be honest with herself and what this is. With what she's trying to do, even as a complete novice in the world of lovemaking.

Her hands slide up from Laxia's waist, feeling along the smooth, sweat-slickened skin and the erratically flexing muscles beneath. They withdraw from her middle... only to reach back and seize at Laxia's wrists. With sudden force, Bandita attempts to pin the wrists down to the cushion at either side of Laxia's head, reasserting the dominance over her and starting to mimic the pin in the ring. Her head lifts again, eyes opening to look down at the other girl's face.

God, she loved the look on her face. Beautiful and sweaty, disheveled, the face of a noble fighter. Bandita wasn't in much better condition. The low ponytail remained intact, thanks to the flouncy red ribbon holding it together. But the long bangs framing her face are matting to her glistening skin. Her lips remain parted, each panting breath hard and ragged. But she has to see Laxia's face for this. She needs it.

The arms are pushed a little further, having to fold them closer above the ginger's head than they had been in the ring. But it no less stretches Laxia's body taut beneath her, and her own atop her. The wrists cross one over the other, letting her spare a hand to reach low. She has no doubt in her mind that Laxia by now knows exactly what she's doing - and the sublime poetry of it. She knew what she wanted when she was pinning her to the mat like this. Changing the pin from just lying across her belly to this was a deliberate choice.

Laxia's right leg is gathered into Bandita's left arm. It's drawn high and to the side, resting nearly against the cushion alongside Laxia's body. It spreads her legs wider, defenseless, and showcases the noble's full flexibility - and completes the pin.

Bandita's face lowers the few inches to meet the other girl's lips in a kiss, a soft kneading of their lips together before breaking it to look down at her again. Her eyes flutter shut briefly as the grind intensifies - nothing subtle about it, nor its purpose. Each heated stroke is instinctual, a primal drive to release the pressure now burning inside her, and to see it released in her most affectionate 'rival'. What she wanted when she pinned her in the ring, one body covering the other in a forceful display of earned conquest.

This is no different. The final moment is going to be climactic. She can feel it. Her body is aching for it. No hesitations, no second-guesses, no uncertainties. She's driving for that release.

"One..!," she counts.