Fanning Flames! Blaise Cameron vs Blade Uehara

[CyanDimitrik]

So many things tonight has rocked Blaise's world. From meeting Blade Uehara, to the two of them getting a little close backstage unexpectedly, to wrestling with her in the ring in practically a fantasy fulfillment. But that jawbreaker certainly qualified, too. Pain has a way of cutting through focus and introducing an incessantly nagging sensation that demanded immediate nursing. And this was assuredly no different. Blade has a deceptively hard head, he's now discovered.

Bright blue eyes don't find her until she's springing at him, causing the eyes to go wide enough to overtake the majority of his facial real-estate. Hands leave his jaw in favor of trying to catch her, hands going to her narrow hips the moment she's latched onto his head! Incidentally, this helps her elegant display of ramrod straight elegance, her slender body taut and spectacular in poise - only to swing in again! The force whips Blaise forward, right off of his boots! The top of his head collides with the mat, and the motion carries him cleanly right back up to his feet!

But the lights are off while standing.

He wobbles, staggers a step, arms unsteady and gaze unfocused.

And then Blaise's body drops hard, straight back to the mat. He lands with a light bounce, his eyes shut, lips parted. Defined pectorals and sleek abdominals rise and fall heavily with each uneven, panted breath, the sweat glazing his skin highlighting every etched line of muscletone with every exhale.

[killcarrion]

Hey, Blade resembles that remark about her supposed thick plated cranium. Adamant though she could become in her fervent denials, any close compatriot of the aerialist could attest to Blade's stubborn demeanor and occasional pigheadedness. Merely meeting her construction foreman Father makes it crystal clear as to whom Blade inherited that specific character trait from. But a nimble spring in her step ensured Blade the capability to capitalize on her offensive jawbreaker with a front headlock and plank straight positioning in mid-air...until crowning the Phoenix with a spectacularly executed Pendulum DDT. Mild chuckles emanated from the audience alongside some encouraging applause from those unfortunate enough to be fooled into believing the standing upright Blaise had endured the DDT with nary a scratch before his back-splatting plummet proved otherwise. The aerialist tucking her legs until she was scrunched into a ball as the preamble to a fluid kip-up and rocketed fists into the air. "LET"S FUCKING GOOOO!!!" A bellowed proclamation rallying the audience behind the veteran with hollered cheers and ovation, especially once Blade started approaching the closest corner turnbuckle for the first time throughout this match. The daredevil scrambling up top and situating herself like a gargoyle in a belfry, a feral smirk as she feasted her eyes on the spreadeagled Blaise before vaulting skyward into her Cutting Edge twisting frog splash meant to cave in her adversary's midsection with a leg-hooked pin attempt soon afterward...

"1!"

[CyanDimitrik]

If Blaise were cognizant in this moment, things would be different.

He would watch Blade, his oldschool crush, posing with brilliant enthusiasm. He'd be one of those in the crowd, cheering for her, admiring her beautiful smile, her energy, the way her pose emphasizes the slender but athletic figure. He would be so filled with hype and excitement as she climbed that turnbuckle, knowing full well that one of her amazing feats of agility would soon be deployed against someone. That despite her being far from a heavyweight, knowing that her crashing down belly-first across an opponent often meant the end of the match, having completely pulverized her foe's midsection. He'd be cheering as loudly as he could as she pinned her opponent, hoping somehow that his voice alone would cut through the noise and she'd notice how into it he is - that this would in some way set him apart as her biggest fan.

If Blaise were capable of processing things, if Blaise weren't her opponent tonight, that's what he would be doing. Even since becoming a wrestler, himself. Because she's Blade Uehara - the radiant high-flying superstar Wrestle Angel with the cute face, great body, and magnetic spirit.

But Blaise isn't in the audience. And he's not especially aware of his surroundings right now.

"UNGH!"

Blade's stomach lands hard across his. The sleek muscletone of his abdominals serves as a solid barrier, perhaps moreso than most (if any!) girl she's wrestled before. She'd feel firsthand the dense durability of the abs against her own trim stomach, nothing between them to lessen the sensation. Just skin against skin, muscle landing across muscle. But even still, it's not enough to repel the combination of height, gravity, weight, and momentum from Blade's Cutting Edge move. His eyes shoot wide, jaw dropped, arms and legs kicking up into the air in a jackknife. One of those legs feeds directly into Blade's pin, letting her toned arm hook his muscled thigh. Everything settles again in a sprawl.

His eyes rest shut, breathing faster, harder from the strain and pain now radiating from his cramped midsection. Each breath pushes him rhythmically against her stomach, each exhale hardening the abdominals beneath her belly.

[killcarrion]

Online wrestling journalists tended to concoct their own unique terminology when it came to clarifying just what Blade was capable of once she's officially airborne. Some of those more memorable excerpts being "...poetry in motion..." and "...captivating aerodynamics...". But in an odd juxtaposition, as appreciative as she was for her fandom's spellbound fascination with her soaring theatrics, these days Blade actually attempted to stay as grounded as possible when it came to ensuring her ego never became too inflated. The occasional humblebrag aside, Blade's started making conscious efforts to yank herself back down to Earth whenever someone within her fandom starts fawning over her accomplishments or in-ring capabilities since she knows all too well what happens whenever a wrestler starts becoming enamored with her own legend. But Blade couldn't deny herself one indisputable fact. Which was that she felt the epitome of unbridled freedom within those scant few milliseconds before splashdown. A whisper in the wind possessing the strength of a thunderstorm...

...culminating with the storm's brutal touchdown squarely upon Blaise's exposed and heaving midriff succumbing in sunken acquiescence to the aerialist's meteoric plummet. The ring quaking plunge reigniting the searing discomfort throughout her body from having Blaise exercise his own high-flying liberties earlier on, but the adrenaline piped throughout her veins masked whatever aches she felt in favor of gleaming elation. A fleeting second spent settled atop her ardent fan who was perhaps living out one of his cherished dreams with firsthand experience of what it's like enduring one of the veteran's skyborne assaults with sweltering midsections breathing in unison. "Seein' stars, yet? Don't worry, those are just the rooflights and my shimmering smile~..." Blade smirked with the hooked leg intensifying the pin attempt, taking the time to center her eyes on the ringside cameraman filming her rebellious wink and extended fingers counting down the pin count in unison with the official smacking their hand into the canvas to the riled anticipation of the fans in attendance.

"One!"

"Two!!"

[CyanDimitrik]

An unconscious groan escapes Blaise as he lies beneath Blade's midsection. She wasn't wrong - this was absolutely a fantasy of his. It combined so much of what he wanted and liked. First and foremost, it involved Blade Uehara - spunky tomboyish aerialist with her cute face, tight, lean body, and cool outfit, her painfully attractive, surprisingly playful personality, and experiencing that in the ring. Second, it involved wrestling with her, the two of them grappling, slamming, and splashing in a bid to claim victory over the other in competition. It involved her using her awesome aerial skill... and in a heck of a combination, it involved feeling her body over him.

It hurt. But it's a good hurt.

He feels his leg hooked while her midsection presses squarely across his, emphasizing the ache, but in the best possible way. Being pinned down by Blade shouldn't be this much of a turn-on, but it inescapably is, feeling her across him, holding him down, his mind racing with what that visual must look like. In any lifetime, he'd be happy to be pinned by her, getting to feel what it's like, her in her element, how she chose to assert herself over him.

Her and her quips. God, she's adorkable.

The sound of the hand slapping the mat, the light tremor that runs through the canvas from each impact, hearing the referee and audience shout each number out. It really, really shouldn't be this incredible turn-on. There's an urge somewhere in there even louder than his body's aching, spent stamina yelling that he should just let this happen and experience it for as long as it'll last. It's like a dream. You don't wake yourself up on purpose from sexy dreams!

But another part of him finally kicks in, impulsively demanding his body moves. He can't rationalize it in that second, but his hooked leg powerfully kicks, sending a jolt through his body that bucks his shoulder up off the mat. The referee's hand pauses hovering just over the mat, and she rears back to hold up a pair of fingers.

"Two-count! No fall!"

Blaise continues to lie under Blade, one knee steepled, breathing hastened a little further. One arm comes to settle over Blade's lower back, the hand resting settled upon her skin. At last, he can sort his thoughts - it's not enough to be pinned by her. He doesn't want to be just another opponent she's worked through, even if they had their moment backstage. He doesn't want her to see him as a lovestruck fan. He wants her to see him as a competitor. A real one. A part of him wants to make her his fan. And he can't do that without beating her.

Besides. He wants the satisfaction of being on top when the bell rings. It's Blade Uehara, after all.

"I was seein' stars since you entered the ring," he finally gets out. "But that smile's a showstopper."

His other arm braces against the mat, just enough to prop his elbow and lift his head to try to look across at her. The pain and strain in his body is evident in his expression, but that boyish smile just won't die.