Whatever It Takes (Bella Pirata [D] vs Drake "Domino" Vyril)

[DSX93]

***
Match Type: Standard Match
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, Knockout, or Disqualification.
***

Bella Pirata

Black Severin

Just a few minutes prior...

Black Severin -- or Terrell Hughes, as he was known to Beatriz Yvonne Murillo Gutierrez (aka Bella Pirata) -- had just stepped back through the curtain following a successful match against Selket. The blonde would never say it, but to be perfectly honest, she'd expected to see it end with the Egyptian's hand being raised in victory. Especially after she'd started the match off with that cheap shot. That had Bella on her feet as she watched everything unfold backstage, ready to run out at a moment's notice and fight in his defense.

But he wouldn't need her to. Black Severin would wow the world, and her especially. But most of all, himself. Even he couldn't believe he won! Not to call the man worthless, but he hadn't trained for this. Not for all the years the average person would need to just be coming in and standing toe-to-toe with top tier combat wrestlers. They had to talk about this!

Beatriz took off down the hall, squealing excitedly on the way to meet him with a big, warm glomp, bouncing by the balls of her booted feet when he set her down. She feigned ignorance of the plunge his eyes took to her chest, and wanting to show off what the last three years had given her, threw in just a few more hops for him.

"Dude! You were awesome!"

Not knowing what to say, Terrell defaulted to just standing there with a goofy smile on his face before she took his arm in hers and led him back to her locker room. "You have got to tell me: Where'd you train? With who?"

"I didn't."

"Bullshit."

He'd chuckle before reiterating, "No, really." And she would slow them down, stepping in front of him, taking his hands in hers, and continuing on backwards as she subjected him to the full force of that "who do you think you're kidding" smirk of hers. It would normally make him falter in seconds, but this time, he would stay strong. "No, really! I'm just as shocked as you." Okay, so he's become a somewhat better liar over the last few years.

She figured that he was wanting to keep it a secret until they had some privacy, so she shooed away the cameraman that started following them and waited until they were in her space to ask him again.

"B, for real." He took a seat in one of the two chairs she set up for them to sit in. "I didn't come in with any of that. I just managed to get it done somehow."

He...really wasn't lying. Which only raised more questions. "Then why are you here?"

"Rain check?" He couldn't tell her why when she has a match coming up. That he'd ask for one of those even then had told her that whatever it was that brought him here, it was huge.

"Okay. You're gonna have to pony up another hug for keeping me waiting, though." Normally, she wouldn't want to hug a sweaty person, but he wasn't that bad, and she just wanted to touch him and have him close. She missed it, and since he didn't mind last time, she wanted more. Her heart skipped a beat when he rose to his feet, and it took a second for her blue eyes to rise from those washboard abs, and then those sexy pecs, to his soft eyes. At which point it would skip again when she was treated to that winning smile of his.

After catching him looking at her chest just moments ago, she was uncertain about whether or not she wanted him to notice her checking him out (and he hadn't). It could have meant nothing.

Beatriz knows that she isn't the prettiest girl around, but she likes to think she looks nice enough. And he's a guy; that just could've been general admiration of the feminine form. And if that's all it was, well, it was still good to know that she wasn't invisible to him as a woman.

Terrell patiently held out his arms. "Bring it in."

Gladly.

"It's really good to have you here, T." After how her time ended in Proxima Generacion de Lucha Libre, it was a very welcome change of pace. Not that she was completely alone there. She hoped that Paula was okay.

Terrell could feel what this was about. The relief in her voice made it pretty obvious to him. When they parted from their hug, he'd hold onto her shoulders and look her straight in the eyes. A rock solid gaze, his own voice filled with resolution. "This isn't the PGLL. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what. And I've always got your back. Okay?"

He saw all of that? He's been watching her?

"What?" Terrell could see the disbelief in her eyes. Had she really been so shaken by her experiences there that she'd think that even he could abandon her? It hurt him to think it, and it made him glad that her bitch of a boss got the boot from the company.

Meanwhile, Beatriz realized that she'd slipped up and given him the wrong impression. "Oh, it's nothing."

"It's nothing." Terrell was no expert on the opposite sex, but even he knew that when they say those two words, they never mean it. "Hey. I mean it. 'TnB: Tag team for life.'" Their childhood motto, and a promise made to each other. "Nothing's changed."

"I know." The blonde said with a sweet smile. "I believe you. Even though you just lied to me, technically."

Terrell returned his hands to his sides, his face twisted in confusion that was visible through his mask. "How?"

A gesture done in his direction would punctuate her answer. "All of that muscle!" She decided to test the waters. Throw a line or two out there, and see how he reacts.

"Oh!" He chuckled before continuing, "That. Yeah, I started hitting the gym on the regular after I got that job at GameStop."

"You look great!" Beatriz wanted to say "fantastic", but "great" was the safer bet for plausible deniability, should she happen to need it. "Get any pretty regulars?" In other words, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Nah."

Yes!

"But I met a girl here."

Damn!

"It's not a serious thing, though."

The revelation was made with a subdued smile, and he couldn't hold her eye when he said it. It was an admission that he was embarrassed to make. She knew immediately that it wasn't his decision. And that he'd phrased it like that, describing it as a thing, meant that...Oh no.

They've already done it. And he was the best kind of man in that regard: Any woman he took to bed could rest assured that she'd be the only one to ever fill it. Not that she has any experience with that (unfortunately), but with him having spoken at length about finding his one true love...Talked out fantasies about that ideal life and all he'd do if he could, from sliding a custom-made heart-shaped diamond ring on her finger, the destination wedding in France, settling in at a nice, big house, going on vacations all around the world, raising a son and daughter to be just as big and just as awesome of dorks as he and the wife would both be...

"What's her name?" Spoken like a simple inquiry, and not at all like she was asking for the name of the girl that she was going to have a nice, long conversation with. Maybe with her fists.

"Serena. I'll introduce you sometime."

Ah. She wasn't here tonight.

"I think you'll like her."

On the contrary, Beatriz already had her fears, and that didn't help. Terrell had a bad habit of enduring mistreatment when there were kisses and sweet words mixed in.

"I'd like that, yeah."

A knock at the door would interrupt their conversation, triggering an effortless switch to Bella Pirata. "Who be it at me door?"

"I'm with the crew, Ms. Pirata. You're up!"

Already? Did Selket get up to try to run the pain off or something?

"Ye have me ale?"

"Ready and waiting, ma'am!"

That got a satisfied "Yarharhar!" out of her. "Good on ye, lass! Oi'll be thar soon!"

Terrell had to ask, "You still drink Redd's?" It was their favorite alcoholic beverage to share, and Bella Pirata's drink of choice.

He really was watching her! That was something she'd only ever revealed in an interview back in Mexico.

"Arr, nobody makes ale like ole' Redd!"

"Agreed. Good luck out there!"

With a cocky grin, the pirate would reply, "Cap'n Bella Bonny doesn't needs luck. She's got her skill 'n her wits! But thank ye kindly. I be off, now!"

Now

Bella stood near her chosen entranceway, which would have her coming out at the bottom flight of stairs at ringside. In her hand was a large wooden mug that was filled to capacity. A staple of her entrance that was mainly for the fans. She herself would only drink enough to grant herself an easier time slipping fully into character.

The lucha libre pirate's first match was to be of the intergender sort. These were her favorite to do and her audience's favorite to see, as they more often than not opened the door to the full range of the antics that made her famous. Tactics that her research into her opponent had suggested he'd be susceptible to. That he was capable on top of that made Drake "Domino" Vyril the kind of guy she likes to wrestle the most. Her

couldn't have played soon enough. She was so ready for this!

Bella was pleased to see that a large number of the fans here in Romania (where she was of legal drinking age) had their containers in the air. Cups, flasks, and mugs both glass and wooden like her own, all ready for the word go. Cheers, mates! And right down the hatch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, standing at five feet and seven inches tall, and weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds, fighting out of Tijuana, Mexico..! Bellaaaaaaa Piraaaataaaa!"

One hearty belch later, and she was on the way down the stairs, stopping here and there to bump her mug against whatever and pour a measure of its contents down a waiting gullet, or to sync up with the damn pirates and say, with a finger pointed at a camera -- through it, but at no one in particular...

"YO! HO! HO! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"/"YO! HO! HO! YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"

She moved along at a practiced pace, reaching the barricade and standing atop it, turned to them, in time to lead the chorus.

"♩We are the Pirate Metal Drinking Crew! We think you're dumb, and we hate you too! We are the Pirate Metal Drinking Crew! We don't give a fuck! We think you all suck!♩"/"♩WE ARE THE PIRATE METAL DRINKING CREW! WE THINK YOU'RE DUMB AND WE HATE YOU TOO! WE ARE THE PIRATE METAL DRINKING CREW! WE DON'T GIVE A FUCK! WE THINK YOU ALL SUCK!♩"

Bella would raise her mug to her lips one last time to take a few last swallows while they continued singing along, rejoining them in the latter half of the repeat...

"♩We are the Pirate Metal Drinking Crew! We don't give a fuck! We think you all suck!♩"/"WE ARE THE PIRATE METAL DRINKING CREW! WE DON'T GIVE A FUCK! WE THINK YOU ALL SUCK!♩"

...Spotting another camera and flipping the bird to go with a final "FUCK YOU!"/"FUCK YOU!" before stepping off. And around the ring she would go, treating more of her crewmates to a helping of ale and passing the mug along to one lucky fan when it was empty. It wasn't a practice of hers originally, but it turned out that there was quite a few people in the crowd every week who'd have it specifically because she'd used it. No comment.

Climbing onto the apron, she'd stop to point a finger at another camera. This time, her words had a target: The man waiting backstage. "There's no escape! Tonight you're screwed!"

"'CAUSE WE'RE THE PIRATE METAL DRINKING CREW!"/"'CAUSE WE'RE THE PIRATE METAL DRINKING CREW!"

After bending through the ropes (eliciting some amorous whistles in the process) and climbing to the second rope, the captain and her Crew would sing along to the trash talking chorus one more time, leaving her feeling invigorated (and nicely buzzed) when she jumped off and stood over at the far end of the ring. This capacity crowd was the largest she'd ever stepped out in front of, and their energy...! It could have powered the place just as well as electricity.

Oh yeah. Bring it on, Domino!

[CyanDimitrik]

Just a few minutes prior...

A pirate.

Drake stares dimly into the mirror of his locker room. The deep amethyst eyes that look back at him are expressing something roundabouts judging and disbelief.

He might not've even given it a second thought. But he's inescapably aware of his lack of matches in recent history, relying on the modeling career to cover expenses while essentially sticking to LAW on retainer. He came to the arena with a point to make; a message to deliver. One of hope, holding yourself to the highest standard, never settling for less than what your heart yearns for. And he has had some of the most... well... unusual matches of his career. And a record that isn't as shiny as he'd intended.

A pirate, though?

Going into a federation where he'd be expected to primarily, if not strictly, wrestle women was kind of loaded from the outset. He's not so idealist that he didn't recognize the sensationalism of it from the outset, nor why they would've scouted him as one of their first, if not the first male in LAW. He's a professional wrestling male model. Wrestling girls. And they encourage things to go in steamy directions. It made sense. But the competition is what he wanted, the rise to stardom, to knock down the naysayers in his life.

But what's happened, aside from a couple victories - one of which being the most awkward, uncomfortable win of his life - has been something of a disaster. Shovel to the head? No one would fault him for losing that one. In fact, it's fabulous that he didn't have to relearn shapes and colors. But did it have to be a Prisoner of War match? Nevermind that all they did was bicker the entire time.

"Heh."

The sound is hollow; weirdly comforting. She cheated in a horrible way to win him for a night, how'd she expect that to go?

But another loss he practically gave away just for being so damn new to wrestling girls. That one, he wishes the internet would forget. That one was humiliating and awful. Not at the moment, granted, but good lord. Only one of his matches in LAW felt like he'd given it his all and was outwrestled. Naturally, even that one wasn't without its scandal, recalling Mae Madison kissing him to escape a crushing bearhug hold. Admittedly, they were being terrible flirts throughout that, but he had an excuse! He had a crush on that girl before he ever became a wrestler.

Still, though. A loss is a loss. And now, after being out of the public's eye for a while, he gets booked to face Bella Pirata.

A pirate.

Is this what he expected? Is this what he wanted? Is he really proving any naysayers wrong at this point?

A heavy sigh fogs up the mirror. As it slowly begins to clear, those peering, judgmental eyes reappear, alone in a sea of haze. ...Is that what he's becoming? This bitter, angry person whose primary motivation is spite? Before all this, he would've thought a gimmick like this is cool, fun, exciting. Heck, it's her debut.

'You're being a jerk. Be happy for her,' he admonishes himself.

His palm finds its home upon his face, attempting to physically rub away the negativity. This isn't about what happened before, nor any awkwardness, nor any embarrassment. The audience came to see a match - two rivals vying to supremacy, both with everything on the line! He's not doing this because he has an axe to grind, he's doing this because he lives for this! Nothing's changed, it's just a new day! And he can appreciate that it'll be extra memorable because his opponent tonight... is a pirate.

'Besides, just think about it,' he considers to himself. 'If she's doing a pirate thing, she might be cool. Heck, she's probably a chill person.'

Finally, Drake smiles.

Now

"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"

Domino stares owl-eyed from gorilla position.

A few of the nearby technicians are snickering along with Bella's theatric entrance while Domino silently recalibrates expectations. He can see her face on the monitor as she flips off the camera; she's definitely got some commonality with previous opponents he's dealt with. Namely being, a terribly pretty face and an aggressive attitude.

"Got your work cut out for you," muses a technician.

"Boy howdy," is Domino's nonplussed reply.

He can appreciate the showmanship of it, though. Heck, he's even a little jealous at her immediate sway with the crowd! But none of that is going to matter soon. In just a few minutes, the world will be condensed only to him, her, and the referee. This is his night to take the win and right the ship. Whatever it takes.

The arena lights dim low, steadily reaching blackout. The crowd settles into an anticipatory hush. Thin white laserlights begin to flicker as the opening strings of his video trickle through the speakers.

Music

As the titantron kicks on the showcase Domino's best hits, the main house lights stay down. Only the stark white lasers pierce through, soon joined by pod lights lining either side of the ramp. And lastly, a spotlight hits the entryway just as Domino emerges, arms held high and bright smile illuminating an already radiant face.

The attire, for what can be seen of it at the moment, is as traditional as it is on theme. Black kneepads and wristwraps, primarily black boots with bright white front flaps, all visible. Muscled thighs can be glimpsed, as well as just the start of his clingy trunks, glossy and dual-toned. But he wears a loose-fitted white T-shirt with a stencil of his face, sporting the word 'DOMINO' above, and 'EFFECT' below. Merchandise available, to be sure!

Domino

"AND HER OPPONENT!," begins the announcer.

Domino starts down the ramp, drifting side to side to slap quick high-fives, seize palms, and even dole out the occasional hug to the more particularly enthusiastic female fan. In truth, he's overjoyed that people even remember him, let alone being received with such warmth.

"Standing at a height of five feet, ten inches! And weighing in at one hundred and seventy-eight pounds! From Providence, Rhode Island! DOOOMINOOO!"

Though the well-wishes and eager cheers are nicely received, Bella's side of the aisle is certainly not holding back on him. A male model! Wrestling the pirate! They hope she smashes his face in, and make no bones about it.

Domino, however, focuses purely on taking the last several steps to the ring in a rush, ending in a leap to alight himself on the ring apron. Grabbing the top rope, he leans back to stretch the cable and vaults his lower half up and over, landing nearly upon the mat. And in a slipstream of motion, he races up the furthest turnbuckle to stand perched on the middle ropes, shins braced on the top ropes. There, perched upon high, he takes the back of his collar in hand and tugs the shirt up and off before balling it up and winging it out into the crowd.

Upper-body now exposed, the spotlight and overheads catch every contour of sleekly-defined muscle through his frame. Defined, firmed pectorals, streamlined biceps and triceps, and chiseled, flat abdominals leave no bulk or excess weight with which to contend. His body is a refined, physical specimen of athletic prowess. He thumps his right fist against his chest a couple times before casting a pointing finger out over the crowd in a slow sweep.

And finally, he hops down with a twist to face his opponent.

As the referee girl closes in to inspect him, he leans back, letting his arms settle on the ropes at either side while his gaze rests steadily on the girl 'cross the way.

[DSX93]

And hers on him in turn. This man was born to be on camera. Perfect from the hairs on his head to his designer boots. Every muscle in his body was primed for competition. Bella kept it to a flash of admiration in the eyes and a low whistle when the shirt came off, but on the inside, she was eating him up like the other women here were. In love, she may be, but dead, she is not.

He's never looked at her like that anyway.

She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. She's got a grand debut to make! It was time to show not only Mexico, but the whole world what Bella Pirata can do!

The blonde put those long legs of hers forward when the referee came to pat her down. One at a time, and when she felt nothing in her boots or her stockings, the pirate decided to give her a little shit. Standing with her hands on her hips and a minxy grin on her beautiful face, she'd say to the woman, "Jus' be honest 'n admit dat yer tryin' t' get a feel o' Cap'n Bella Bonny." She let out an amused "arharhar!", gestured towards her revealing outfit -- the bottoms in particular -- and continued, "Wha' in Davy Jones' locker am I goin' t' hide in dis?"

The poor, increasingly red-faced thing could only say in response, "Uh, right." before shrinking away from her, but not without taking a second glance. Shy admiration; it was kinda cute. Not that she'd go for that sort of thing.

Bella threw her head back and let out another pirate laugh. "I be jus' messin' about wit' ye! But if ye would 'ave said dat's wha' ye wanted, I would 'ave given ye a few seconds. Ye yellow-belly." She'd throw in a playfully dismissive wave of her hand to punctuate her teasing.

Blushing like mad and clearly wanting to move things right along, the ref took her place in the middle of the ring, summoning the both of them. Bella had an easy-going approach. Loosey-goosey. Confident, but not cocky. Her blue eyes went right past the woman to look Domino up and down, showing her appreciation of his form with a sly smile.

"I better nah catch ye slackin' 'cause I be a lady, 'ansome. Make dat mistake, 'n ye'll swing fer sure."

[CyanDimitrik]

It was a little harder to make things out at a distance. And even when he was closer, the span from one corner of the ring to the other was just enough for Domino's imagination to downplay what he was getting himself into. After all, the outlandish attire and somewhat wild flaxen hair lent itself to a kind of sordid, devil-may-care approach. But as he drew closer to the center of the ring and looked at her, really looked at her, he had a hard time believing what he was seeing. Her youthful face, soft-featured and delicate, wide blue eyes, with a gentle dusting of a tan seemed so incredibly ill-fitting for a dirty, nasty, foul-mouthed pirate. She has the features of a heartthrob-y girl-next-door, the kind your mother wishes you'd finally make a move on and bring home. The good girl. The sweetheart kind.

It's almost jarring. She's dressed the part, but that pretty face was doing a number on him.

"Swing?," he quips as he nears. "Lady, we just met." His gaze hoods at her, the corner of his lips quirking into a little smirk. There's a playful tilt to it; just some early banter of the lightest variety. He can afford to do that before the bell sounds off. Then he has to get down to business.

But in the scant seconds he has before then, he follows her example and finally lets his gaze dip. Slender, trim, athletic. Curvy to just the right amount without being awkward. She looks like she'd be a scrapper - definitely comfortable in her skin. A smooth waist with a toned, defined stomach, admittedly a favorite of his. Smooth hips, strong, long legs with clingy stockings... she's definitely flaunting it. But she has it to flaunt. And it all comes together beautifully with the face still aimed at him.

Damn, she's pretty.

Bare shoulders roll in a last-minute limbering exercise, and Domino skips from one boot to the next. And as the referee asks if the wrestlers are ready, he sinks into his stance: arms raised, fingers splayed, muscles tensed like a coiled viper ready to strike.

"Ring it."

The mousy referee-girl waves her arm. *DING!*

And with alacrity enough to make the referee squeak and shrink back, Domino shoots forward to meet his night's rival. Hands slap to skin as he seizes at her collar and elbow, looking to immediately overwhelm her into a backpedal. He could start the match with technical finesse, but this approach is more about getting in the opponent's head. He has a definite size advantage. He suspects that translates into an obvious strength advantage as well. He wants that to go from visually discerned to felt in his painfully attractive foe. The first battle to be fought is in the mind.

[DSX93]

And he's witty too. That got a quick chuckle out of her. "Ye smart arse." Bella considered calling him out -- just to yank his chain a bit -- when he ran those pretty amethyst eyes over her. Are those real?

She really didn't mind. Heck, back in PGLL, it was one of the main reasons why she preferred to wrestle the boys. A lot of them were just looking for a hole to fill, so she wouldn't engage with them too much. But it was still nice to be desired. They made it easier to slip into character. That is to say, to feel Bella's confidence.

But she let him enjoy his eye candy without a word. Captain Bella Bonny is a confidant woman, but she's not full of herself. And she'd continue her own feast on the sly. Through her periphery, keeping her eyes looking straight into his otherwise. Those strong shoulders, though. And the pecs. Yummy.

Get ready. Ring it. And right out the gate, he pressed the three inches and fifty-eight pounds he had on her. Devoted it to pushing her as far back as he could manage. It was textbook giant stuff: Assert yourself early and show the opponent how easily they could be tossed around if they slip up. He wanted to intimidate her into the usual David and Goliath tactics. Make her predictable, use his own athletics to counter, and dominate.

Not tonight, matey.

Bella allowed herself to literally be manhandled back to the corner she just stepped away from. Closer...Closer...Now; she ducked right as her back was about to touch the padding, slipped her upper body in between the ropes, and leaned further back into it, hands raised defensively. She knew coming in that he's a good dude. There weren't any cheap shots coming.

The truly important part was how she forced the referee to step in between the two to break them up. "Ye waste no time assertin' yerself, do ye, lad?" She was all smiles while she did it, treating it like flirtation. A risky move in a place like this, but fortunately, Domino wasn't a Hentai wrestler. And thusly, it was less likely that her bluffs would be called.

[CyanDimitrik]

Hands seize about the girl's elbow and collar, and Domino actually finds it a little easier than he expected to back her into the corner. Kind of... too easy. His eyes focus past the bright blue pools any fella could get lost in, and sharpens at the ready for an abrupt counter. Perhaps she'll try to pivot and place him in the corner. Perhaps she'll try to knee him. Perha- oop, she gone.

As Bella dips her upper-half through the ropes, Domino loses his grip on her. She's given a curious blink, but that's all the time he has before the referee-girl comes in to order him to back off from her, in her mousy this-is-my-authoritative-voice way. Bella's expectation of Domino is, however, accurate. His hands immediately lift, palms out, clearly indicating he's not touching her. He moves a few steps back, and his attention returns to the girl.

"Aye. Avast," he says, clearly having no idea what the proper piratese response would be, and kind of leaning into it with a cheeky, self-aware grin.

For his part, he's still getting a read on her. She is an unreasonably pretty girl, more appealing than the standard stock of the federation. But it's so bizarrely offset by the rough pirate-y business and what he'd seen of her entrance, that it's throwing him. She'd be an easy girl to like, and she seems like she has a sense of humor. Hell, she'd have to have one, if this is how she's chosen to present herself! But it's such an unusual juxtaposition, it has him a little thrown.

"C'mon, c'mon!," he encourages as he takes a few more steps back. He begins shifting his weight from boot to boot, keeping the energy high and focus ready. "I know there's a joke in here about that being the time I almost caught Captain Bella, but we've got a match to wrestle! Don't get shy on me!"

[DSX93]

A clock started ticking down in Bella's head when that bit of Pirate English came out of his mouth. There were no numbers visible, but she knew: It was a matter of time before he made some remark about booty. Every guy that's played along with that would go there. A few would come up with a good line, though.

The PE was wrong, but they did have a match to get to. And she couldn't just hang back after the S word's been said. With a mischievous glint in those blue eyes of hers, she'd bring her trim body back into the ring and step forward, arms up and ready to try again. But rather than actually meet him head on, she'd slip around the side, looking to wrap her arms around him to establish control of his waist.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino didn't particularly plan on making a booty remark. There's little to no chance he would pass up on it if the opportunity organically reared up. But for as much banter as he was offering her up-front, he was focused. The match comes first. Beating her comes first. His career comes first. He can make with the pleasantries and japes after she's lying on her back, pinned beneath him-

NO, NO. FOCUSED.

She approaches, and Domino lashes out in an attempt to grapple with her again! But this time, the pirate weaves aside to emerge behind him, her arms lashing around his midsection. His hands immediately seize upon her wrists, his stance widening with knees bent to refuse to be deadlifted. And from this convenient position, Bella will get to feel the smooth firmness of his chiseled abdominals as he flexes his core in preparation to endure a tightened squeeze. Meanwhile, he feels her presence tight behind him, her chest conforming against his back.

[DSX93]

"Shiver me timbers, ye're a staunch believer in "curls fer the girls", aren't ye, lad?"

Bella wasn't saying that just to throw him off his game, although that was a part of it too. He was easily the most well-built guy she's ever shared a ring with. Granted, the last promotion she was a part of was made for teenagers, but still. But even so, Domino was just on another level. Those abs were...

You're in the middle of a match, Beatriz!

And she is supposed to be distracting him. So she did her level best to ignore the feel of those hard, washboard abs and his masterfully sculpted back against her cheek when she swung a leg around, pushing her weight against him as she sought to sweep his foot out from underneath him and throw him off balance.

[CyanDimitrik]

The tightness of the lock afforded the two a moment of, shall we say, professional intimacy; a point not lost on Domino. Bella's a pretty girl - far prettier than someone who talks like a pirate has any right to be. And feeling her tight, nearly-bare body pressed firmly against his back, grabbing at his own nearly-bare body... well, it'd be a lie to say there isn't an invasive thought or two pushing for the forefront. And it's kind've nice, feeling her heart beating against his back.

As he struggles with her, feet shifting to try to keep an advantageous guard, she earns a strained little laugh from him. "Not fair..! You can't- make me laugh - while we're wrestling!" But it seemed to work for her, giving her the opening to hook one of those long, smooth legs over and pitch the two of them forward.

Domino hits the mat on hands and knees, but quickly shifts his balance onto one hand. It's a risky maneuver, but the freed hand darts for Bella's wrist to try to quickly sweep it away. Hips twist, his elbow pushes back, and he attempts to force himself to the side while letting her dip forward ultimately to reverse positions with her. If successful in the mat-grappling do-si-do, Bella will suddenly find the body she was appreciating pressed tight against her back. Chiseled pectorals behind her shoulders, the sleek abdominals against her lower back. His hips pressed tightly into her backside, with his arms clamped down tight against her bare belly. He'll pull inwards while forcing her to bear the brunt of his weight, slowly squeezing her stomach, testing the toughness of her abdominals, his lips just inches from her right ear and every breath a warm whisk against her skin.