Can I Play With Madness?

[BlackAkuma]

”Oh, wow, Sheila’s got Kenzie in the ropes, she’s getting choked out, she’s going for the KO!”

”Not just that, it looks. She’s working over the pussy, too - looks like she’d trying to finish what Kenzie started earlier.”

”Can Kenzie even feel that? It looks like she’s going out…”

”I’m fairly certain she doesn’t give a shit either way. She’s going deep, she’s going hard, she’s going, going, going-”

”Gone! The referee’s calling it. Victory by Hentai Knockout, Sheila Morgan takes it! Holy fuck, that was crazy.”

Sheila hated watching her matches back. She hated watching them back from a hospital bed even more.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a hospital, though it was the first time she’d been in one in Japan. She’d been to LAW’s infirmary a few times, but that was for relatively minor shit, stuff she could walk off after a week or two. The damage she’d taken after screwing with Kenzie was way too extensive for anything that could be handled backstage, so they’d dragged her - quite literally - to the nearest medical facility.

Not that she remembered any of it. As she saw from the screen overlooking her hospital bed, she had passed out shortly after giving Kenzie some of the worst - or maybe best - oral of her life, eating her out as she had the life choked out of her on the ropes. The crowd was losing their minds, the referee was frantically trying to free Kenzie’s neck before the bitch lost her head, and Sheila was just laying on the floor, splayed out, a ragged and broken mess.

Several shattered ribs, a bruised lung, a mild concussion, a broken tibia, and a lot of damage to a bunch of other things that Sheila was too hopped up on the painkillers to remember. Her doctor had explained it a few times, but she always stopped paying attention halfway through, knowing none of it mattered. She’d bounced back from shit like this before, she’d bounce back again. That wasn’t what she was worried about.

It was raining - of course it was - and nighttime. Midnight, more or less. The pain would’ve been enough to keep most people up, but that wasn’t the case with Sheila; she was used to sleeping through this sort of thing. No, she was up because she was waiting. Waiting for things to get quiet, for the shifts to change and leave the floor on a skeleton crew.

When the time was right, Sheila slipped out of bed, shivering when her bare feet hit the linoleum floor. Carefully, slowly, gingerly, she eased her way out of the bed, and stumbled her way over to the door, hissing with every step. It hurt to move at all, much less walk, but that was fine. She didn’t plan on going too far, anyway.

Though she was no stranger to hospitals, this one differed from those in her little podunk town back in Australia. Cleaner, modernized, sanitized, rank with the scent of cleaned floors and overly nutritious meals, a stinging smell that worsened her aching skull. Sheila shook her head, try as she made her way down the hall, leaning on the wall for support every step of the way.

Almost there, almost there. She had heard the doctors talking as they passed by earlier, and while her Japanese still wasn’t perfect, she’d picked up enough to know that a certain woman would be in a certain room at the end of this hall. Just a little further, and…

‘Mackenzie Carver’. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally saw that name on the wall, glad her journey ended. Also, good to know the crazy cunt had a real name. If it was actually ‘Kenzie Kraze’, Sheila would have to jump out the nearest window.

She stood up as straight as she could manage, quickly knocked on the door for reasons she couldn't explain, and promptly hobbled in. ”Oy,” Her voice was low, raspy, calm. Definitely the most muted Kenzie had ever heard from her. ”You up?”

[DropKix]

The antiseptic tang of the hospital clung to the air, drowning out even the lingering taste of blood and bile on Kenzie's tongue. White walls. White sheets. White-hot pain licking at every inch of her body. It was almost insulting how clean everything was, like the filth and frenzy of their match had never even happened. Like the bedlam, the brutal symphony they had composed with each other’s bodies, had been scrubbed away just like the sweat and blood from her skin.

But it had happened. And every fiber of her being screamed the truth of it.

Kenzie lay sprawled in the hospital bed, propped up at an angle that kept her from drowning in the weight of her own exhaustion. Bruises painted her throat, fingerprints branded deep in violent shades of purple and blue, each one a relic of the ropes that had kissed her neck in strangled ecstasy. Her limbs felt like jelly, her ribs ached with every breath, but the dull throbbing was a lullaby compared to the raging symphony of agony she had played inside that ring. And yet… she smiled. It wasn’t her usual maniacal grin, nor the wide, gleeful sneer of a lunatic riding the high of her own destruction. No, this was something softer, something deeper. Satisfaction. The kind of smile one only wore after being shattered into pieces and still finding beauty in the ruin.

Then came the knock. Soft. Uncertain.

Kenzie cracked open one bloodshot eye, her lips quirking as the rasp of a familiar voice filled the sterile quiet. Kenzie didn’t answer right away. She let the silence stretch, let the moment breathe, as if savoring the sound of Sheila’s voice in a way neither of them would ever admit. When she did speak, her voice was little more than a husky rasp, scraped raw from laughter and screaming and all the lovely things in between.

“Gotta say, Shei-laaa~” she crooned, the syllables rolling from her tongue like the purr of a cat too battered to move but too stubborn to die. “Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type. Aww. You come all this way just to check on lil’ ol’ me? How sweet.”

Kenzie shifted, turning her head just enough to see the shadow limping into her room. Even in the dim light, she could make out the telltale hunch of a body pushed past its breaking point, the careful, pained steps of someone who had no business being out of bed. The sight sent a ripple of something through her, something warm and amused and aching all at once.

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila might not have looked like it at the moment, but she was half-ready for a fight when she entered the room. Not that there could have been much of one, considering how banged up the both of them were - it wouldn’t have been much more than a sloppy catfight. But she had met Kenzie all of three times before this, and every single time it had gone to violence. Even in a hospital with both of them drugged up out of their minds, there was no way of knowing with Kenzie Kraze.

Thankfully - for what Sheila had in mind today, at least - the psycho pixie wasn’t in attack mode. Sheila could still hear the craziness in Kenzie’s voice, but she was subdued, a whisper of her wild self. She knew the feeling. The fire still burned in her pit, too, but it was just embers for now. It’d be raging in a few days, sure, but she just did not have the energy.

Even so, she couldn't help but pause at the sight of Kenzie lying there. So calm. So peaceful. So unlike her. It was hard to appreciate when they weren’t trying to kill each other, but she was, well…pretty. The sort of woman who could draw eyes when she entered a room, with a pleasing smile and shimmering eyes. Even the bruising around her neck matched her pale skin well.

She stared, only for a few seconds, before she brushed the comment off with a laugh. ”Eh. Blame it on the concussion.”

Sheila hobbled her way over, straightening her hospital gown as she approached. She attempted sitting - a weak, painful attempt - before straightening up and inching towards the bed, instead. ”Mind scooting over? Can’t sit, need to lay down.”?

[DropKix]

Kenzie’s head lolled against the stiff, too-clean pillow, and for a breathless moment, she just watched Sheila, a fractured silhouette shivering in the sterile white light. Watched her move with that stubborn, defiant limp, wearing her bruises like a second skin. Watched her bite back every wince, every hitch of breath.

Kenzie’s cracked lips twitched upward into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more a ghost of one — feral and almost tender all at once. She liked broken things. Especially the ones that still thought they could fight. The wild little creature inside her, that rabid spark that had torn and snarled its way through the match, stirred weakly in her ribs. Not ready to lash out just yet. Just watching. Licking its chops.

Slowly, dragging a small groan from deep in her battered chest, Kenzie shifted her weight to one side, pressing her aching body against the cold rails of the bed. The thin hospital blanket tangled around her hips, the thin gown she wore slipping askew at the shoulder, baring a pale sliver of bruised skin and the angry red ring of rope burns kissing the line of her collarbone.

"Why?" she rasped, voice sandpapered raw but soft, almost playfully slurred around the edges. Her fingers fumbled for the side rail, lowering it with a clumsy thunk, clearing a path for Sheila as she spoke jokingly. "So you can finish what ya started? Uh uh, I don't think so sweetcheeks."

Her eyes glinted under heavy lids, that same crazed gleam still smoldering somewhere behind the exhaustion, mischief and menace bleeding into something darker. Something more intimate. Kenzie crooked a finger lazily at Sheila, beckoning her closer with the same slow, deliberate daring she used to taunt opponents before the kill.

"Ehh what the hell," she murmured, head tilting, voice dropping into a cracked purr as she patted the spot right next to her, beckoning her rival to take a seat. "Not every day I get conjugal visits," she added with a hoarse, almost delirious giggle.

As Sheila approached, Kenzie's gaze raked down her battered frame, lingering shamelessly on every scrape, every wrapped joint, every exposed inch of hospital-soft skin peeking from the folds of her gown. Kenzie shifted again, slow and serpentine, so when Sheila made her move, there would be just enough space for her to slide in close… too close. Close enough for every bruised breath to mingle. Every heartbeat to thrum against each other like a loaded gun, trembling on the edge of going off. Her bruised throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly, the lingering ache throbbing deliciously with every tiny movement. She let her hand fall limp across the bed between them — open, palm up, waiting.

[BlackAkuma]

Oh, the doctors had hooked Kenzie up with the good stuff, Sheila could tell. While she’d never been much into recreational drugs - just not her style, not a moral thing - she’d taken enough painkillers in her relatively short time alive to put down a pachyderm herd. She knew what it was like to have all that coursing through your system, and she had to imagine they gave a little extra to Kenzie, just to make sure she was placid enough to work on.

How long that would last was anyone’s guess, but she hadn't leaped off the bed and attacked Sheila…yet. That was a good sign.

”Pfft. If I wanted to fight you, we’d be fighting.” Though, really, Sheila did want to fight Kenzie. Even now, there was a real part of her that wanted just to start tearing it up in the middle of this hospital, lay waste to this room in the middle of the night, and send all the nurses running - but her body knew better. The way they were, it would probably end up as a lame slapfight, anyway.

Judging from the look in Kenzie’s eyes, she was on the same page, or at least the same book. Sheila knew when she was being oogled, and the barbaric barbie was gazing over her with insane intent, taking in her every cut, her every bruise, looking at her like a raw piece of meat, ready to be chewed. She gave her some space on the bed, sure, but not too much space. Hospital beds weren’t made for two, but they were both lightweights, they didn’t have to get that close.

But they were going to, anyway. Good.

After taking a moment to lift her aching leg up and slide onto the bed, she moved in and brought her body against Kenzie’s, putting them together like a lock and a key, made to fit. Legs to legs, chest to chest, so close she could taste the woman’s breath and make a good guess what she’d had for lunch. It was cozy. Intimate. Something Sheila didn’t get too much of.

Sheila leaned in, just enough to press her lip against Kenzie’s neck, still red and raw from the ropes. She hadn't been able to see it too well before, but now, close up, she could admire her handiwork. After a quick taste, she pulled back enough to stare into her former foe’s manic eyes with her own. ”So,” She exhaled, blowing some of Kenzei’s hairs away in the process. ”What’s next with you and me, huh? What do you want?”

[DropKix]

Kenzie didn’t breathe. Not at first.

Not when she felt the press of Sheila’s weight slipping into the bed, her battered form slotting up against her own like a jigsaw piece carved from the same bloody, unholy puzzle. Not when that searing kiss of breath brushed her throat. And definitely not when those lips dared to press against the scorched edge of her rope-burned neck like a matchstick teasing the fuse. The breath she finally did take was shuddering. Shaky. And laced with something guttural, a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan, bitten off before it could bloom. Her hand twitched where it lay between them, caught in the gravity of their bodies, of their bruises.

"Mmmm..." she purred lowly, the sound dragging through her throat like gravel, "Look at you. Look at what I did to you. And you still came back for seconds..."

Kenzie’s head rolled to the side, nuzzling into the dark halo of Sheila’s hair, drawing in the smell of painkillers and sweat and some stubborn, stupid resilience that clung to her like smoke. Her hand slid slowly, almost reverently up the curve of Sheila’s hip, not groping, not greedy. Not yet. Just...feeling. The proof that Sheila was real. That she was here.

"Was it the choke?" Kenzie murmured, her cracked lips tracing the edge of a grin against Sheila’s ear. "The ropes? The way I dragged and fucked you in that locker like a bitch? Or was it the way I looked at you while I did it?"

There was no mistaking the hunger in her voice now, it wasn't just lust, but something far darker and stickier, a kind of twisted reverence for the beautiful, broken art they'd made of each other in that ring. It hummed beneath her skin, coiling tight in her belly, the line between pain and pleasure blurring into a smear of violet haze and splintered bones. Her fingers slipped under the hem of Sheila’s gown, her fingertips wandering as if on a mind of their own.

"What do I want?" she repeated, her voice low and close, a cracked melody vibrating between their ribs. "Sweetheart, I wanna ruin you again. But this time? Real slow. No bell. No cameras. Just you, me..."

Kenzie shifted slightly beneath her, not to get more comfortable, but to remind her she was there. A brush of thigh. A grind of hip. Her body a language all its own. Violent, wanton, dangerous.

"And no one around to pull me off." she whispered as her forehead nuzzled against her foe's, her hot breath seeping from lips just mere inches from Sheila's own.

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila rarely got a chance to admire her handiwork like this. She did damage to people all the time, especially back home when she was fighting in the bush, but she rarely got to hang out with her opponents afterwards. Either because they got whisked off to the hospital or because they were too pissed to stick around for long. As it turned out, brutality tended to put people in a bad mood. Go figure.

So, this - being up close to someone she’d tenderized, brutalized, victimized - was a rare treat. Even rarer was getting intimate with said person. But they were both rare bitches, weren’t they?

She couldn't read Kenzie’s mind, and she probably wouldn’t have been crazy enough to try if she could, but she had to imagine the pasty pixie was having similar thoughts. Her words were weird and rambly, but there was no mistaking the lust and intent behind them, no ignoring that hand feeling up her body. She didn’t fight the touch, allowing her former - and likely future - foe to explore where she willed. This was her handiwork, after all—her work. She should get a good look at it.

The question Kenzie asked through her electric purple haze was a good one, one Sheila had been pondering every step of the way: Why had she come here, exactly? After what they’d been through, any sane person would’ve stayed as far from Kenzie as humanly possible. What they’d gone through was insane. Even tempting it again was madness, stupid, dangerous…

…hot.

She didn’t answer the question at first, though, instead waiting for Kenzie to give hers. It was about what she expected, too: More violence. More debanchery. More damage. She wanted to tear Sheila apart, again and again, like her favorite little chew toy, rip each other to shreds until there wasn’t anything left to rip. Not the worst picture to be painting, even if it led to them both going down the drain.

Close now, closer than lovers. Sheila brought her leg over Kenzie’s and curled around her thigh, pulling them in tight, a possessive embrace. Her tongue trailed along the reddened marks, then made their way up to her ear, which she spoke into with a raspy whisper.

”The look. The fucking. The fighting. All of it.” She nuzzled against Kenzie’s cheek. God, she was warm. ”I’ve never gotten down like that with…anyone. Had some wild fights before, but you, you’re…you’re so…”

Sheila slid her face down until their lips met, and took Kenzie with lustful kiss, sending her tongue out to lazily run along her partners. She needed that taste. That heat. Just thinking about the match was enough to bring out the urge. Once she’d had her fill, she managed to pull away, long enough to speak.

”Perfect. Fucking perfect. And I think I want that, too.” She glanced down, then back up to meet Kenzie’s gaze. ”Let’s make a deal.”

[DropKix]

Kenzie fed into Sheila’s mouth like a starving thing, tilting her head, parting her lips, answering the heat with something far more reckless. Her tongue flicked back in kind, curling around Sheila’s wantonly. Her hands gripped the sides of Sheila’s thighs, fingers digging deep into the skin, holding her in place as if they could devour each other whole. Her body arched up into her, thigh shifting, leg curling, the hospital sheets crinkling under the slow, delicious grind of hips against hips. Pain flared, sure, but it was background noise now. The ache made everything brighter.

Sheila broke the kiss, leaving Kenzie panting, lips glistening, eyes burning. Her fingertips flopped lazily down to her side down while her other hand ghosted across her waist, still not completely satisfied.

Then… that word.

Deal?

Her head tilted, that single word latching onto her brain like a fishhook. Her neck careened into a crookled little head tilt, sudden and sharp. But at the same time curious, cautious even. The way a stray dog might look at an outstretched hand after a lifetime of kicks.

She didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she let her hand slide up Sheila’s stomach again, palm pressing flat against bruised muscle, fingers spreading over every inch she’d punished. Her touch wasn’t soft, but there was something close to reverence in it. Possessive, almost. Like she was admiring a trophy, except this one had a pulse. Kenzie leaned in, nose brushing Sheila’s cheek, breath hot against her skin.

“Ooooh, that’s a fun word,” she crooned, her voice a velvet noose tightening. “Such a serious little sound for two girls who just tried to kill-fuck each other in front of a crowd.”

Her fingers curled at the hem of Sheila’s hospital gown, slipping beneath it just enough to feel skin. Those, hot, battered, perfect breasts fit perfectly in the palm of her small hands as she gently kneaded the soft mounds. Her hand slid higher up, her thumb playfully flicking Sheila's nipples as she let her eyes flick up to meet Sheila’s, unblinking. Intense. Kenzie’s voice dropped, lower now, threading through her teeth.

“So tell me what kinda nasty little pact are you picturing, huh?” Her breath ghosted over Sheila’s ear.

[BlackAkuma]

This was…romantic? No, not the right word. Insane? Closer, but still not what she was looking for. Intimate, maybe, in a way that she couldn't quite put words to. Sheila didn’t have quiet moments like this, not in bed - most of the time, she just drifted off before pillow talk could even get going, if it ever was a thing in the first place. She was never this close. Never took the time to feel her lovers. To know them.

Being this close to Kenzie, tasting her in the air, was like stepping into a lion’s cage. Getting a closer look than any sane person would. Knowing it could bring the violence at any moment. Tension hung in the air like a miasma. She could taste it.

It hurt—everything hurt—but somehow, that just made the pleasure so much better, like the pain made it more earned. It sharpened Sheila’s mind and made her more aware, slicing through the meds and bringing out her inner animal. Judging from the leering looks from Kenzie, it was much the same with her. Teetering on the edge of violence, at all times.

But Sheila hadn't come here for that - not just for that. She’d come to bargain, and from the funny little look on the pale pixie’s face, she was open to the idea.

Sheila opened her mouth to speak, only to bite her lip as Kenzie found her two of her favorite toys. That brought her back to the first time they fought, all that wanton groping after the match. Really liked the feel, didn’t she? Sheila pushed forward, giving her all the access she could want, but not without taking something in return.

Her own groping hands traveled down Kenzie’s thigh, scratched at the skin, and only came to a stop when her fingers graced her backside, finding a nice, ripe ass cheek to dig into. Her claws sunk into the flesh, little by little, as if she was trying to see how far she could go before she hit red. Not that she would, though. She just wanted to stimulate, no need to get so messy.

Hazy and horny, Sheila managed to find enough sense to properly respond after a moment. She closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and let it out with her full Australian drawl. ”Once a month, your place or mine or wherever works. We pick a date, make the time, meet up and just…go. Close the door and just hammer and tongs all night, until one of us can’t stand anymore. Winner gets her way until the sun comes up.”

Sheila opened her eyes and brought her hand - the hand that wasn’t currently digging into Kenzie’s ass - up to press a finger against the woman’s lips. ”We have other matches, other playmates. But we always make sure to save enough of ourselves for the day. No one else gets to break you before I get a chance, and same goes for me. Sound good?”

[DropKix]

When Sheila first hobbled her way into that hospital room, Kenzie hadn’t the faintest idea what the hell the brutal blonde had in mind.

Maybe she'd come to finish the fight they’d started, grind her down into the mattress for good, break the bones the doctors hadn’t gotten to yet. And truth be told, Kenzie would’ve welcomed that. She might’ve been stitched, strapped, and half-drugged out of her mind, but she’d still have laughed and bled and bit through the pain, gone down swinging with a smile.

Then it started to feel like something else. Like Sheila was here for a different kind of rough. A little post-match, tension-busting one-night stand, all claws and kisses and bruises in the dark. And when those calloused, greedy hands started to knead into her crevices, Kenzie was more than happy to lean into that rhythm too—moaning into every scratch, clawing back with every drag of her nails. Hell, if that was the plan, she’d already called it a win.

But then Sheila went and said that.

Kenzie shivered under that finger. Her lips didn’t part, not at first. She let Sheila feel the twitch of her smile against that fingertip. Just a soft press, like a trigger begging to be pulled. Her lashes fluttered. Her body buzzed. Kenzie let out a low, trembling laugh, a hot, breathless little thing that spilled against Sheila’s skin like smoke curling up from a wildfire.

“That,” she whispered, “might be the sickest, stupidest, sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Her hips shifted, instinctively grinding into the tension between them. Her hands slid over Sheila’s shoulders, down her arms, possessive. Claiming. She leaned in, lips brushing past Sheila’s ear, voice sultry and shaking with that signature cocktail of chaos and craving. "I’ve made a lot of bad choices, babe,” she whispered, breath trembling with anticipation. “But this one’s starting to feel like my favorite."

Then she eased back, eyes glittering, face flushed with sweat and heat and some twisted euphoria that didn’t belong in a hospital room. She held out her pinky. Not mockingly. No smirk. No sarcasm. Just a solemn little finger, as serious as can be. “I promise,” she breathed, “no matter how many bitches I break between now and then… I’ll always save the worst of me for you.”

Her smile was soft now. Sweet. Almost… affectionate.

"Deal?"