L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Elliot's ideal "first ever match" on the "grandest stage of them all" was something along the lines of a title match on a Pay-Per-View or a interference to help whatever poor sod to win their blow-off match. Never did he assume that he was going to do something like...THIS. The arena, if you could call it that, was slick with oil in a weird pit covered with a LAW-brand tarp in the center and seemed like something out of a weird porno with the way that there weren't even any crowd members, just cameras and...oh god no.

His purplish-gold eyes looked on in horror at the sight of it. Phallic weapons of doom...dildos. Then realization hit the chronically online wrestler like a clothesline to the waist: He was shooting a hentai match. Elliot's annoyance at the whole situation was palpable. He was only ever going too do a hentai match if it met two conditions: The pay was good and the guy was hot. L.A.W already seemed to fail on one of these parts already.

He was so going to complain about this.

Elliot's attire for this slippery occassion~

Daniel Grace had not exactly coveted himself in glory in his time in LAW. He didn't really care, of course, he was hardly married to any one fed, and LAW's tastes were never too closely aligned to his own.

That only made him more curious about the matchup tonight.

It didn't take him long to follow Elliot's own arrival, dressed only in his signature short shorts and hat.

"Well, hey there, hun. Been a while since I've fought another stud in a ring like this, almost makes me miss home."

To sweeten the deal, or perhaps just to amuse himself, Daniel would turn around, letting his glutes face Elliot as he pulled those shorts down, revealing what could charitably be described as red trunks underneath, skimpy enough to leave nothing to the imagination, grabbing his shorts with one hand in an almost feminine motion.

Spoiler

Tossing the shorts to his opponent, Daniel kept a smile the entire time.

"Daniel Grace, what's your name, stud?"

Unfortunately, Elliot had been too miffed by watching his opponent so nonchalantly strip right in front of him. Elliot obviously wasn't going to. He was too good to strip down to this...southern bumpkin's level...Ok. Maybe he would take his boots off, but that's it! That southern drawl and that smooth body would have done wonders for getting Elliot to fall for Daniel, but unfortunately, he wasn't getting paid for what was essentially a hentai match.

As if on cue, Elliot's doom thinking was cut short when a pair of jean shorts came flying and landed squarely on his messy mop of blonde hair. The poor influencer seethed in silence at this outrage: "How on earth does Nathan work with these idiots?!", he stormed in his mind.

"Is that what you southerners call hospitality, or would that involve some cow-tipping?" *Elliot mused, clearly mocking Daniel's southern accent to get under his skin before the match started. "The name's Elliot. And don't pronounce it, you'd be embarrassing yourself~"

"Plenty of boys and girls would be excited over a pair of those, pretty boy. And that's fine with me, you'll be too busy screaming my name to remember yours anyways, hun~"

Daniel slid into the 'ring, if one wanted to call it that, a bottle of oil left for both of them to use as they saw fit. Daniel got to work oiling himself up for the match, waiting for Elliot to finally meet him. Daniel wasn't afraid to get down and dirty, seemingly shameless in every endeavor so far, at least compared to Elliot.

"C'mon, teacup, not getting paid to sunbathe, are we?"

"Oh we will see about that."
Elliot murmured with a stifled sigh. He let Daniel have his way with the oil bottle, knowing that he was definitely going to have an advantage being less slippery and stuff.

He made his way gracefully into the oil pit. And by gracefully, it was more Elliot trying not to break his face every second he stood upright in the oil!

"You talk a big game but I know your type, you talk shit, act shamless but it's just an act. You're just a little bitch in cowboy gear~"

"I ain't no cowboy, let's just get that straight. We can call each other bitches all we like cause that's what we are, but I am going to make you pay if you keep throwing that word around, pretty boy~"

Daniel was clearly more experienced in slippery situations, which mostly meant that he was in fact capable of moving somewhat coherently, still at risk of slipping should he get too careless. When he was all lubed up, he tossed the same bottle at Elliot, clearly hoping he'd do the same as he did.

"That's what you might be, not me. Second generation wrestler and with more talent in my dick than you can say for entire career...cowboy."

A satisfied grin was plastered on his pasty white face as he attempted to get under Daniel's skin. He was a natural at getting under people's skins. More in a Connor McGregor type of way and not in a Ed Gein type of way as he kicked the bottle out of his way.

"I know every guy you see wants to oil up for you perv. But I'm not going to make myself slip and trip over myself for you."

He bent down to his knees, a determined furrow of the brow while he awaited a move from his opponent. He was far from experienced with mud or oil wrestling. However, when has not being experienced ever stop Elliot from doing anything?

"Oh, don't worry brat, everyone slips up here, that's just the name of the game~"

Daniel's expression changed just enough when Elliot dared to call him a cowboy again that one could easily infer that he had something more malicious planned for his opponent afterwards, but for now, he merely slid towards the center of the 'ring', waiting for his opponent to meet him and for that distinctive DING to finally get the match going.

Once both of these desires were fulfilled, Daniels would approach Elliot in what one inexperienced in such a stipulation might call a test of strength, but was more accurately simply a way to get both wrestlers bodies to struggle in the slippery substance; indeed, even with Elliot trying his best to avoid it, his body would soon begin to find itself coated in that same oil that made it nigh impossible for either opponent to get a solid grip on eachother, skin rubbing up against skin almost harmlessly for a few moments.