Jumping in the Deep End

[BlackAkuma]

Keith was honestly so surprised that he even managed to pull that off. He’d seen it done often enough, but watching in movies and executing it in real life against a real person with very real leg that could cut you in half was another thing entirely. The motions seemed simple enough, though, and he was in a good position for it, so he figured he would give it a shot.

And it worked. Kind of.

He did send her up and over, but she held on as he did, ensuring that they were both going for a ride. The move was so sudden that his cameraman - who had been hanging with Keith long enough to get used to all sorts of wild stuff - was nearly taken off guard and almost found himself an unwilling participant in the match.

Keith came down on his back and immediately scrambled, not wanting to lose sight of Tris or her deadly legs for even a second. He whipped about, lunged, and tried to wrap his arms around one of her thighs, hoping that he could pull her in under him and lock down her greatest weapon all at once.

[Liesmith]

Being thrown, Tris had learnt, was always disorientating.

Didn’t matter if she was expecting it or not, there was still that moment of confusion as she went arse-over-teakettle, the world spinning around her before the inevitable spike of pain as her back met the mat.

Mats, she’d also learnt early, might cushion the fall but they’d never make it comfortable.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a drop here and Keith’s throw had been way heavier on enthusiasm than technique. Which would have irked Tris all the more if she wasn’t just grateful she’d got off so lightly – she knew how to take a fall safely.

That said – no more Miss Nice Tris.

The redhead had rolled herself to a crouch by the time Keith lunged, and she immediately moved to stuff his takedown – throwing her legs out of range and sprawling over Keith’s back so he’d be caught under her. Almost in the same movement, Tris spun around, aiming to move fluidly from the north-south position to a back mount.

From there, she’d try to sink a half-nelson or a choke. But the more immediate threat would be those curvy thighs slipping around Keith’s waist, her ankles going to lock tight…

[BlackAkuma]

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was slight, so slight that Keith barely noticed it at first, but it had started to rain. Barely a drizzle, more like a light mist from the sky. He could see his team moving to cover up their equipment, though that wouldn’t be a problem for their camera, so long as their cameraman was smart with the lens.

At any rate, Keith had far, far more pressing concerns at the moment. Like, for instance, keeping his ribs intact.

The tumble hadn't gone according to plan, whatever craziness that plan was. Her legs were gone, and suddenly she was on top of him, then she spun above, mounted him, her arms were coming around his head…

He wasn’t sure what she was going for with the upper body, but it was small potatoes compared to the danger below. He panicked as he saw her ankles starting to lock and tried to get his hips free, hoping against hope that he might be able get them clear, but somehow he knew it was already too late.

Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths. He was going under.

[Liesmith]

Tris too felt the first flecks of moisture tickling her skin, the harbingers of the deluge to come. But, as a true daughter of misty Albion, it would take more than a few drops of rain to divert her, especially when she was so close to finally snaring her prey.

This time, it was Keith’s turn to make a mistake, one Tris had been waiting for – mostly because she’d been there, done it herself.

Felt the jaws of the trap closing in and panicked.

Keith panicked. He bridged, trying to get clear of her grip before she could lock him down.

Before he could escape, Tris went to slide up, going to high mount with her scissors now around his ribs. At the same time, she curled her pale legs inwards, using her calves to pull herself tight against Keith’s side before kicking them out straight as a ruler.

Her ankles snaked together, locked tight, those already thick thighs swelling with power as she began to squeeze.

“Hey Foxie,” the redhead’s voice was a sensual, satisfied purr now, “Some of my fans thought I should call myself Crusher. Want to see why?”

She went to dial up the pressure, letting her steel-cable adductors dig that little bit deeper into the body trapped between her oh-so-dangerous legs. Not too hard, only at about a third of her full strength – she didn’t want to accidentally crack a rib here.

All the while, Tris kept working for a choke or armlock up top to keep Keith’s arms occupied. Split his focus, force him to fight on too many fronts.

[BlackAkuma]

Shit.

If Keith hadn't been so busy nearly getting choked, he would have said that word aloud. Even so, you only needed to look at his face to see he was thinking it, with the sudden change on his face, the abrupt widening of his features. He had the look of a man who’d made a mistake and knew he was well and truly screwed, but also knew there wasn’t much at all he could do about it.

She pulled him in tight, wrapped those legs around his waist, and began to apply mounting pressure. Keith gasped - or would’ve, if he had the breath for it. Even still, he found enough air to laugh at her little taunt. ”If I said no, would you…oh, oh, fuckfuckfuck-”

Keith’s body lips made a noise against his command, this raspy, wheezing sound, as the air came rushing out of his body all at once. Her legs didn’t even feel like legs anymore. If he’d been blind, he would’ve sworn someone was rolling steel pylons against his side and pressing his body between them. There was no give, like flesh should have. No softness. Just this relentless, unceasing pressure.

And it was getting worse.

Keith let out a few soundless curses as Tris finally got the armlock she was looking for, completely locking him down - not that he would’ve had too many options if he’d had them free. There was no pushing these legs off, and he didn’t want to know what she’d do if he’d actually struck her.

Squirm. Gasp. Breathe, try to breath. Writhe. Grimace.

The rain was picking up now, too. A solid drizzle.