We're Doing What Now? - Domino vs. Arlise Christiaens (Apartment PoW Match)

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino continues to lie beside her, soaking in the moment, caught somewhere between the fatigue of his body and the thrill of hers. His legs shift against the mattress near her head, his hand shifting against her inner-thigh. The rotation of the wrist brings his hand to brush the base of her hips as well. He wants to do more. He intends to do more.

The sound of her frustration reaches him, pulling him out of his thoughts. His head lifts to look down/up towards her face, managing to get an excellent view of the curve of her breasts. Bad angle for eye-contact. Whatever. He slides his hand from between her legs and shifts onto his knees beside her. Leaning forward, he braces a hand against the bed and sets the other hand lightly over her stomach.

"Could be a lot worse," he notes between breaths. "Way worse ways to go... way worse people to be stuck with.."

He glances aside to the referee, who seems to get the picture and shuffles away with the camera. He refocuses on the girl and cants his head. "You did well! And normally I, ah.. definitely don't wrestle like that." His smile turns a bit more sheepish before he shakes his head. "I'm gonna just call it an 'inspired' performance."

The hand will move from her stomach to her face, looking to draw a few of those deep red locks from her face.

"Y'okay?"

[Winter]

Arlise closed a fist around the loose sheets as her frustration lingered. Her mind lingered not on the indignity of being a prisoner for the rest of the night (which she ultimately didn't mind) nor on her aches. But she could not keep losing like this. Never had she lost three matches in a row, and the redhead had refused to entertain the thought when setting foot in this apartment setting this evening. Here she lay, with a personally unprecedented string of failure. Somehow, it made her feel another claw in her stomach.

Then again, that was just his hand. She glanced at him briefly as he propped up and leaned against her, and Lise would have spouted something about not touching her there if she didn't think it would matter. Prisoner.

Until Domino decided to put a gag on her, though, she did not have to be a silent prisoner. It wasn't in her nature. "I'll be the judge of that," she quietly spoke, when he determined that she could be stuck with someone worse, no malice in her voice. Sass and sarcasm maybe, and a touch of annoyance.

The redhead studied the departing referee while he continued, his words still grating on her. If Lise would be honest, he earned at least a couple of brownie points for not immediately stringing her up on the torture rack like it was the 1600s, though she wouldn't mind that later to distract from the awkwardness of intimacy, but in her frustration, his words managed to strike the wrong chord. "Don't patronize me," she retorted, giving him a sharp look. She hadn't done well. If she had done well, she would have won. This arena was hers, typically.

Then he was brushing hair from her face. Chivalrous one, wasn't he? Lise couldn't be sure if she preferred the doting over simply getting to business. Her body certainly still wanted the second. "In a second. When I'm motivated to sit up."

Lise truthfully wondered where this was going. Did he think she needed wining and dining? He had earned this. She was no spoilsport, and she studied his face. Her words emerged, mildly taunting. "Aren't you going to ravish me? Or are you waiting for some inspiration?"

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino blinks down at her. Well, some bitterness could be expected. Heck, it should be expected. So her retort on being patronized gets a thin smirk and a slightly added bit of pressure against the pit of her stomach. Nothing intense, just a chastising inwards nudge over the navel. Being comforting wasn't helping, so back to their pre-match level of jabs.

But here they are, arriving at the moral quandary of what to do. What she says doesn't help. The signals she's putting out say that she's not into it. Physically, she might be. Physically, he definitely is. And while claiming her in dominant fashion here, after having physically conquered her, is appealing on so many levels, doing this because she's obligated to hits all the wrong notes. Having a girl against her will flies in the face of everything he stands for.

"I want to. You have no idea how much," Domino replies with a breezy sigh. He shifts onto his knees, his hand withdrawn from her midsection to rest on his lap. "But I can stand to wait 'til it's mutual. Rest up."

A part of him expects her to respond with frustration or insults. It's fine. Mixed signals are a Hell of a thing to deal with. But if there's a chance he's going against his moral compass, he just can't do it. It doesn't set right. He scooches off the bed to stand, stiffly, awkwardly.

[Winter]

Arlise nearly reconsidered the decision not to bark at him over choosing to prop himself against her stomach when he increased the pressure, but she kept her complaint to a near-silent grunt, a shift to the side, and a sharp glare. That would certainly be off-limits, if he was taking inventory of her likes and dislikes, though again, she supposed that was up to him.

Though the man chose now to seem sheepish. Arlise wished he had started ten minutes ago, and she would have dismantled him during the match. She rolled her eyes to the side of the room, where he couldn't see. "Oh pssh, do not choose now to be chivalrous," she calmly retorted now that her breath had returned to her. "Not after clawing my stomach to bits, dropping me on my head, and shoving your cock in my face while it's sweaty all over."

Arlise tilted her head towards him as he stood, wondering if he was not missing the point. Then again, she supposed he did say he had never competed in a match like this one. And she could realize she was being quite difficult. It was quite entertaining and distracting from her loss, so the redhead wouldn't stop, but if he left her lying much longer without properly distracting her she would truly grow frustrated.

Still, he acted like she was a child. That she did not appreciate, either. "Do you think I didn't give my mutual permission the moment I agreed to a prisoner bed wrestling match?" She fixed him with a flat look, before her gaze shifted down past his waist. "Because if you think I'm some wide-eyed rookie who doesn't know that she gets the full captive treatment if she loses the match and was more than ready for that, you haven't been watching me closely enough for someone who's that stiff."

The Belgian turned to the ceiling again, crossing a leg over the other. "But if you're a little overwhelmed and confused as to what to do with a prisoner like moi, I could always give you pointers, Domino." Yes, that was a challenge, and she smirked to herself.

[CyanDimitrik]

As far as Domino is concerned, everything from the moment the non-existent bell rang following the pin has been a mood-killer. He doesn't like thinking of himself as taking someone against their will. And being contractually obligated for it doesn't exactly gel with his sensibilities. He gets taking up a challenge to prove oneself, and the idea of simply being 'okay' with an outcome versus wanting it. It might seem a small difference to some. To him, it's everything.

And the more she speaks, the less he feels like he actually won this. Or that she's his. Or whatever the vernacular would be for this. It's frustrating. At this point, he can't give her that release on principal. The dynamic has switched from him being in charge to her, effectively.

"It was a fight. I fought to win," he replies flatly as he takes a few steps away from her. "And I don't care what you agreed to on paper. It isn't the point."

He halts at the door and looks back to her again with a frown. Taking the doorhandle, he opens it and lingers for a moment to look back at her. There's some regret. On one hand, he could've just rolled over and claimed her right then and there. But he knows he would've felt like an animal for it. Like he'd violated something. He couldn't do that, not without at least the barest sense of reciprocity versus obligation. Things seemed better when they first met. Testy, perhaps, but at least not antagonizing. More playful. But this, he just can't do. It's unappealing. She's physically attractive, but for him, that's just not enough when weighed against the negativity.

"I'm going. Feel better." He slips out the door, closing it behind him with the intention to get dressed and take his leave. What a damn day.

[Winter]

Arlise regarded him with a blank stare for several seconds until she decided there was no longer any point trying to read into this strange aversion, and by the time the door was swinging open and closed, she was peering at the ceiling, merely listening and bouncing her propped leg. Needy though she might have been, she nonetheless allowed herself to smile contentedly at the ceiling. If her being brutally honest could find her squirming out of prisoner-ship this easily - or perhaps, from watching a man pace around the room all night - she would have to try it more often.

She lay pondering a moment, cooling down and resting. He did not seem to think she had any capability to make decisions for herself. Certainly there were women who joined organizations like LAW not expecting the sensual aspects to be so prominent. The ones who didn't comprehend the sexual nature of the matches they chose to enter were even fewer, and the most naive of the naive. Arlise pursed her lips, reasonably insulted to have been lumped in with them.

If anything, the night served as a stark reminder as to why she didn't spend a great deal of time around many men.

Whatever the case, none of it mattered. The loss did, and the loss alone. Then again... she did need to salvage the evening somehow. After a couple more aimless minutes, the Belgian swung off of the bed, slid her shirt on, and stepped into the hallway, planning on making enough time to shower and have something to drink before she should head home.

Winner by Pinfall, Domino