Madeline Christiansen vs Natasha Loclear

[lyannapelon]

Within mere moments of the match beginning control had gone back and forth several times already but few in the audience would have noticed given how quick and how subtle these exchanges were. Madeline threatened to send Natasha to the floor only for another quick reaction from the blunette to send the Brit barreling into the corner, with Natasha following almost immediately afterward as neither woman seemed willing to release their grip on the others arm. This worked just fine for Natasha who enjoyed having Madeline stuck so deliciously close to her, their pillowy soft busts rubbing along with their firm stomachs while Madeline brought her lips up to Nat's ear.

She didn't reply to those rather true words at first as the feel of Madeline's leg sliding along the back of her calf drew her attention, Natasha countering with a subtle move of her own to keep her footing secure. The key to any martial arts was footwork after all, it would be embarrassing if her own was found lacking so easily. "Think so little of me do you?" She whispered back while digging her thumb into the other's wrist, giving her a little taste of the discomfort she was enduring thanks to the Brit. "And what if I have? What reason would I have to play about when such a tasty treat is right in front of me, begging to be enjoyed?"

With that said Natasha would demonstrate just how hungry she was, head moving like a viper as she sought out a fiery kiss from Madeline's lips, her tongue pushing its way inside if given the chance. She would lift up one of her legs and step over the middle rope to hook her knee behind it, intent on using this secure grip to keep Madeline between herself and the corner while Natasha's one free hand slipped down to her opponent's chest with every intention of not just groping those lovely mounds, but slipping them free of Madeline's top as well.

[Lightman]

Madeline’s back hit the corner with a light thud, the ring ropes shuddering from the impact. She didn’t grimace or flinch, though—her green eyes remained locked on Natasha’s, glinting with challenge, their bodies pressed flush in a tangle of tension and friction. The friction of skin and fabric, of competition and desire. Her arm was still gripped tight in Natasha’s hold, but rather than struggling, Madeline leaned in closer, her breath tickling the blunette’s cheek as if daring her to push this further.

The dig of Natasha’s thumb into her wrist didn’t go unnoticed, and though a faint twitch curled at the corner of Madeline’s lips, it wasn’t pain that sparked her reaction—it was opportunity. “Oh, I think very much of you, darling,” she whispered with the kind of slow, deliberate charm that made her accent seem even sharper, even softer. “That’s why I’m not the one playing catch-up.”

Madeline’s knee shifted in reaction to the blunette’s balance adjustment, reading her movement as the leg came over the middle rope. A clever trap, trying to seal her between corner and body. But Madeline wasn’t interested in being boxed in. Not yet. As Natasha lunged forward with that sudden, searching kiss, Madeline let her lips meet the rush—only for a moment. Heated. Brief. Enough to taste the intent.

But the moment Natasha’s tongue dared to press in deeper, Madeline bit—not cruelly, not enough to wound, but with a sharp, playful warning. All the while, one of her hands reached down between the sweaty, sandwiched bodies, till those delicate fingers sought its target. Thanks to Natasha doing most of the hard work, the tips of her fingers pressed into the no doubt needy pussy of the Frenchwoman, drawing a deep line right up to where the clit would be.

[lyannapelon]

Rather than be surprised or annoyed at Madeline's little bite upon her tongue Natasha simply sighed and rolled her eyes, but not once did she even consider drawing back or tongue or breaking off the kiss. Instead she kept her tongue right where it was though she did slow down her pacing, focusing on massaging her rival's muscle for a moment or two before slipping her tongue beneath its partner and flicking it up and back in a come hither gesture. She was inviting Madeline's tongue inside her mouth.

While this bit of foreplay was occurring between their tongues another sensation demanded Natasha's attention, starting as a small curiosity but it wasn't long before a wandering set of fingers were drawing dangerously close to escalating their match to a new level of intimacy. Madeline was forcing a decision upon the Frenchwoman whose only hand not currently locked together with one of the Brit's own was currently working its way underneath the woman's top, fingers fanning out to grope as much of the large mound within as she could before she began fighting against the tight fabric to free said mound entirely.

Madeline's fingers found their goal just then, sending a jolt of excitement shooting up her spine as those fingers plunged inside her with one firm stroke! Every muscle she had came alive in that moment as a shudder which rolled through the blunette, Natasha gasping as the sensation worked its way all the way up to the top of her head and the very tips of her limbs.

"And I'm the impatient one?!" She called out with a laugh, deciding in that instant of pleasure to press forward, grinding her breasts almost feverishly against her British foe, bashing tits with tits while sliding a knee over to grind it up against the woman's crotch. It wasn't as intimate a touch as those fingers but she could bounce her knee for an entirely different sort of pleasure. This left the hand underneath Madeline's top to work its magic, fingers digging deep into the pillowy breast of the Brit while her thumb rolled the nipple around as if she owned it. All the while she would tug up and inward, looking to pry that mound right out into the open!

[Lightman]

A soft sigh, a mock exasperation from Natasha, vibrated through their joined mouths, making Madeline hum with amusement. She met the blunette’s slow, deliberate movements with her own calculated grace, her tongue curling to answer the silent invitation, slipping deftly into Natasha’s mouth to duel with languid, teasing strokes. It was a subtle shift in dominance—accepting the invitation only to take liberties within it.

The sudden, electric shudder that coursed through Natasha when Madeline’s fingers found their mark was impossible to miss. She felt the tremor in the way the woman’s body clutched at her, in the gasp that vibrated against her lips. A rush of satisfaction flared in Madeline’s chest, though she didn’t allow herself to linger too long. Natasha was not one to stay passive for more than a heartbeat, and true to form, the blunette retaliated—grinding her knee against Madeline’s core with a slow, taunting rhythm that nearly made the Brit’s knees falter.

“Impatient?” Madeline breathed against Natasha’s lips with a smirk, her voice a low, sultry purr. “Darling, you’re lucky I waited this long at all~.” The playful sharpness laced every syllable, matching Natasha’s earlier teasing with a velvet dagger of her own. Her hips subtly shifted into the pressure of that knee even as she fought to maintain her control, her body humming with restrained need.

Meanwhile, Natasha’s hand continued its unrelenting assault beneath Madeline’s top, each roll of her thumb over the sensitive peak sending bolts of sensation through her. Madeline gritted her teeth, her own fingers inside Natasha curling wickedly to remind her rival that two could play at this merciless game. Even as her breast threatened to spill free under Natasha’s determined tugs, Madeline kept her ground, her body trembling not with surrender, but with the anticipation of the inevitable escalation. And those fingers would inevitably begin working to slip their way underneath the intricate garments of Natasha’s attire, burrowing inside with deft grace to find what’s underneath. Something bare, something natural…and something that’s in desperate need of attention.

“But by all means,” Madeline murmured against Natasha’s mouth, a spark of mock-innocence lighting her voice as her fingers curled deeper inside her rival. “Please, do keep trying to unwrap your present~.” The words were a silken challenge, one laced with all the haughty amusement she was so famous for—and Madeline had no intention of making it easy for her. It was a dangerous, delicious stalemate—and Madeline wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lyannapelon]

It seemed they each had a similar desire to see their rival laid bare for all to see but only for them to truly enjoy, though each had taken a different route to get there. For all her talk of impatience it was Madeline who rushed her hand as swiftly as she could to Natasha's bottoms, earning the Brit a disappointing "tch tch tch" as Natasha clicked her tongue while also shaking her head slowly back and forth to really sell the act. "As hot as you are for a Brit I'm afraid you haven't earned your right to play there just yet"

In an instant Natasha would go from fondling one of Madeline's mounds to clenching tight upon her top instead, her leg unraveling from the corner as she brought her leg back close to her body and braced a foot upon the middle rope. Her body was now coiled like a spring as her muscles tensed up in preparation for what came next. Madeline's fingers would find their way past her petals but that just meant both of the woman's hands were preoccupied.

With but a wink as forewarning Natasha would launch herself backwards while dragging Madeline out of the corner, Natasha falling towards her back while her knee rose up to press against Madeline's stomach. It was a classic judo throw, but with the added power from launching herself out of the corner. And if the pressure on the Brit's top tore it down, all the better.

[Lightman]

Madeline’s breath hitched at the sound of Natasha’s tongue clicking, the slow, deliberate shake of her head only fanning the embers already flickering behind the Brit’s teasing smirk. “If that’s the case,” she purred, her voice a mixture of mock chastisement and amused arousal, “you really ought to be careful dangling carrots like that. We’ve both a career out of grabbing what we’re not quite meant to have.” Her fingers didn’t retreat right away, lingering just long enough to provoke before easing back with deliberate slowness, her emerald eyes flicking up to study the shift in Natasha’s posture. She knew better than to take that warning lightly—every inch of Natasha’s body now coiled and humming with tension like a bowstring ready to snap. “Besides… did your knee earn the right to play there?”

Her gaze quickly tracked the movement of Natasha’s leg with clinical sharpness, tempered only by the flush rising along her cheeks. One moment, the Frenchwoman comfortably kneaded Madeline’s chest, and the next, Madeline felt fingers gripping her top, pulling the fabric taut. The position shift didn’t escape her notice. That brace against the middle rope—classic setup. Madeline’s instincts kicked in immediately, muscles flexing as her own posture adjusted, but there was precious little room to manoeuvre. Her hands were still occupied, too low to mount any meaningful resistance, and Natasha wasn’t the type to waste time once she had momentum on her side.

The wink came, and Madeline knew what followed. As Natasha threw herself back, Natasha yanked Madeline forward like a puppet on strings, flipping her weight up and over her rising knee. But she wasn’t some rookie to be rag-dolled without grace. She knew a tomoenage when she felt one—there was a rhythm to it, a breathless beat between lift and fall. Tucking her chin and shifting her hips mid-air, she broke her fall with practised precision, absorbing the slam of the mat with a heavy grunt but no panic. She heard the unmistakable sound of cloth being pulled by the seams, seeming to betray her modesty at any moment, but she met the canvas with just enough control to keep it from giving way… for now.

The English Rose would roll to her knees and turn to face the French Lotus, checking the top. And while it’s not so bad…the damage was significant enough to require repair. “Oh dear, such a tragedy…” Madeline said with the exaggerated faux-pantomime banter that the two Europeans share. She gave a throaty laugh, as she pulled her top off with deft and practised grace, letting her breasts free, much to the crowd’s delight and Natasha’s. “…Only because this will be a hindrance. At least buy me a drink first if you’re going to manhandle me~.” She rose to her feet. Her voice was husky with exertion but laced with challenge, the glint in her eyes making it clear—Madeline might’ve been tossed, but she wasn’t out. Not even close.

[lyannapelon]

As she carried Madeline through the toss Natasha craned her neck back to keep her glacial blue eyes fixed upon her foe even as her back hit the mat that split second before Madeline herself slammed onto it. Of course. She thought as she watched the woman immediately roll through her landing, right before she kicked her legs up into the air and flipped forward onto her feet in a low crouch. Natasha's flowing blue mane would briefly be a mess about her shoulders until she suddenly spun around while raising to her feet, her hair whipping back into place behind her back while she flashed a big smirk at her British foil.

"Magnifique Madeline~" Natasha's eyes widened just enough for the other to notice once that top was torn away, though the reemergence of the woman's native accent would be impossible to miss. It wouldn't last more than those two words however as Natasha collected herself with a drop of her chin and a slow shake of her head. "If you insist...although..."

Her voice would trail off though her tone suggested a revelation as an idea popped into her head, the sort she simply couldn't forget. Reaching behind her back Natasha would need but a moment or two before sighing wistfully as something clicked. "A hinderance indeed~" Natasha's top lifted upward once its clasp was undone, the breasts within bouncing gently once before she slipped the garment over her head and tossed it out of the ring as casually as one might toss a frisbee.

[Lightman]

Madeline landed in a clean crouch, the impact echoing up her legs as she steadied herself, every bit the poised predator regaining her ground. Her chest rose and fell with the rush of the moment, adrenaline still crackling in her limbs. One hand tugged lightly at the torn edge of her top, now hanging lower and looser than it had any right to. Still, she wore a crooked grin, eyes locked back on Natasha—always Natasha—whose smug little spin and smirk played out like a performance she’d seen before, yet never quite tired of. “You just love watching me stick the landing, don’t you?” she called, voice wry, but lined with something warmer beneath the barbs. “Must be exhausting being that predictable.”

But then came the name. That deliberate lilt. Magnifique Madeline~ The roll of it off Natasha’s tongue sent a pulse straight down her spine. Not that she’d admit it out loud. Instead, her brows lifted, green eyes gleaming with playful suspicion as she rose from her crouch with a languid stretch of her back. “Careful, darling,” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “That accent might just get you into trouble one day~.” There was heat behind the line, but also a knowingness. They were both well aware of the game they played—the flick of wit and body, the measured dares. And Madeline knew better than to trust the stillness behind Natasha’s trailing words.

Sure enough, her curiosity sharpened as Natasha reached back, the unmistakable sound of a clasp unfastening drawing Madeline’s attention in full. And then—just like that—the Frenchwoman bared herself, her breasts spilling free with an unhurried, elegant bounce that Madeline couldn’t help but admire. A low whistle escaped her lips, hands propped on her hips as she gave her rival an approving once-over. “Well now, that’s more like it,” she quipped, though her voice had softened some. “Was starting to feel a bit overdressed, truth be told.”

Madeline’s grin grew as she watched the discarded top sail out of the ring like a forgotten trinket. Her tone turned coy, but edged with sincerity. “Fair play, Natasha. I’ll admit, didn’t think you’d give me the honour of seeing those out first~. I’d like to earn it like everything else.” She rolled her shoulders as she stepped closer, the tension between them a living thing. “Let’s see if the rest of you’s just as generous~.”

[lyannapelon]

"I am nothing if not generous Madeline as you should remember rather well~" With her flirtatious tone and a playful wink the crowd was left wondering just what Natasha meant, but she would elaborate no further as some things were simply better left known by just the two of them. Her breasts were much less of a secret though the same was true of the lovely Madeline's pair as well, cameras flashing throughout the audience as the energy inside the arena spiked to a new high.

Natasha would spare a moment to turn to the nearest camera with a hand stretching out towards it, beckoning the cameraman to bring it close enough for her to give those watching the feed an intimate view of her topless self, with a quick dance to make her girls bounce before she pushed the lens away. "A little gift for the fans but don't fret Madeline, my attention once more belongs to you and you alone."

While she was certain such words weren't necessary between them Natasha spoke them nonetheless, her icy blue eyes locked upon her British foe as she then approached the center of the ring. No more words came from the Frenchwoman, just a little bite of her bottom lip to draw Madeline's eye before she lunged forward! Swiftly as she could Natasha made a grab for the woman's wrist before setting her feet and giving as mighty of a tug as she could to send Madeline running across the ring and into the ropes. She would then take off towards the opposite ropes, bouncing off of them, and then aiming for a clothesline across Madeline's naked breasts!

[Lightman]

Madeline gave an audible scoff, though the corners of her mouth tugged up in a knowing grin. “Oh, I remember plenty, thank you very much.” she shot back with a lift of her brow, her green eyes locking with Natasha’s through the low, smouldering haze of tension that lingered between them. The insinuation didn’t need unpacking. Whatever the crowd imagined was likely still more innocent than the truth. But she wasn’t about to confirm a thing. Not with all these eyes watching. The Brit’s bare chest rose with the steady rhythm of her breath, not the least bit flustered under the glare of the lights or the snap of countless cameras. If anything, the rising energy in the arena only seemed to feed her. “Suppose we’re both feeling rather generous tonight.”

She didn’t follow Natasha’s turn toward the camera, but she certainly didn’t miss it. The little bounce-and-flash routine was classic Natasha: always the showwoman, always aware of her angles. Madeline watched with a mixture of amusement and low-burning heat, head tilting as her rival dismissed the camera with a flick like she was brushing away a servant. “You realise they’re still watching, don’t you?” she murmured with a dry little laugh. “Not that I’m complaining. Bit of eye candy keeps the crowd honest.” But when Natasha turned her focus back to her, those glacial blues narrowing in with full intent, Madeline’s stance shifted subtly. Her feet slid just a touch wider. Her muscles coiled like a wire drawn taut.

No warning. No cheeky quip this time. Just that telltale bite of the lip, bait, as ever, and suddenly Natasha was coming at her. Natasha snatched Madeline’s arm with expert speed, her grip firm enough to sting. “Bloody hell—” she hissed, more impressed than annoyed, as her feet skidded before she found herself whipped across the canvas. Her chest bounced lightly as she hit the ropes, the tension catching her like a spring before she came rebounding back with a low grunt. She saw Natasha’s intentions in her stride.

But Madeline wasn’t about to be flattened so easily. The moment her body left the ropes, she saw the opening, Natasha’s arm arcing high, set to slam across her bare chest. But the Brit dipped low in a flash, ducking clean under the strike with a smooth, practised motion as the blow whooshed harmlessly overhead. Her momentum carried her across the ring, feet thudding hard against the canvas as she rebounded off the opposite ropes with purpose. Hopefully, Natasha had only just pivoted when Madeline came tearing back, shoulder lowered and body tight, launching herself forward like a missile with her green eyes locked and a fierce glint behind them. She drove in hard, aiming to bury her shoulder into Natasha’s centre and cut her down with a spear packed with every ounce of defiance and raw intent she had left to give.