Not Enough Room For Both of Us (Part 1)

[DSX93]

(Ignore the rolled up ends of the pants)

had done it. The fourth Fight The LAW Pay-Per-View was originally going to be a night off for him. That is to say, management had nothing for him.

And that, he couldn't accept. So last week, he asked for some time to issue an open challenge. He'd take on anybody, in any match. He was here to make a name for himself, and he wasn't going to do that sitting at home or hanging around backstage.

Management would later reach out and tell him that he had a spot, and on the main card, at that! The only caveat? They wouldn't tell him who he was facing. Not that he cared. They could send Astrid Arvidsson down that ramp, and he'd be ready to fight. But for now, though, he needed to settle into

There was a small, strange hiccup at the check-in: Instead of his ring name, the room was reserved under initials: TH. He didn't know why. The receptionist didn't know why. But he gave her his real name, and after she passed it up the chain for confirmation, he was cleared. Guess somebody messed up somewhere.

He put his and Keira's bags up and took in the sights, both inside, and from the balcony. And last, but not least, he tested out the bed after first removing his vest and his shoes. Felt just like a cloud; the LAW standard, complete with silk sheets.

She's gonna love this. He had plans to complete this package with the help of a recipe book he picked up before they even flew to Italy. He wanted to do something different this time: Take advantage of the leeway that LAW's wrestlers had in its hotels and borrow a section of the kitchen. He's spent some time perfecting a few dishes.

Whip up a nice dinner, have room service send up some wine, watch a movie, take it easy.

At the moment, though, he was staying in bed. They'd spent most of the day traveling. Keira was off at a shopping center. Shopping for what, he didn't know, but he was sure he'd like the surprise.

Severin closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and relaxed, settling nicely into the bed.

[Weonna]

Tia Harris

Tia eased the suite door shut with a soft click, the shopping bags on her forearm rustling as she crept inside. The lights were low—just a soft city glow leaking in past the half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows over the king-size bed... and the broad, sleeping lump sprawled across it.

'Perfect,'

she thought with a cheeky grin, kicking off her shoes with a soft thud. Tonight’s impulse buy—a silky black nightie that clung like sin—hugged her curves as she padded closer. The bags got dropped quiet as a whisper on a nearby chair. She’d show him those later. Right now? This little surprise came first.

Spoiler

She climbed onto the mattress like a panther, knees sinking into the soft silk. He didn’t stir—just breathed slow and deep like he hadn’t a bloody care in the world. Tia swung a leg over his hips and straddled him, settling her weight low and slow. The warmth of his covered chest underneath her was just… mmm. One hand slid up that rock-hard torso that was underneath his shirt, stopping just short of his sternum. The other braced beside his head.

She leaned down, silver waves of hair tumbling around his face as she lowered herself close. Her lips brushed his ear.

“A proper Aussie sheila’s on top of ya, and you’re still nappin’? Tsk tsk,”

she whispered with a wicked smile.

“You must be knackered.”

Severin didn’t move, his brow twitching faintly. Tia gave a slow, deliberate roll of her hips—just enough to make him feel it. A teasing groan nearly slipped out of her, but she kept it in, biting her bottom lip. Her grin widened as she felt a small shift in his breathing.

If his eyes fluttered open, blinking up at her with sleepy confusion, she was already grinning like the cat who ate the cream.

“Oi. G’day, big man,”

she cooed, thick accent curling around each word.

“You left yer door open… so I figured I’d come in and christen the bed, yeah?”

She tapped a finger to his chest—light and playful.
“Reckon this is your open challenge, innit? ‘Cept I ain’t here to wrestle, sweetheart. Least not in the ring.”

Her hands slid slowly up his arms, and with a confident tilt of her hips, she gently pinned his wrists to the bed. Her touch was firm but smooth, and her eyes locked onto his with heat.

“Now don’t go cryin’ for a ref, yeah? You’re in my hold now.”

Her voice dipped low, sultry and bold, her smirk dripping with mischief as she leaned in closer, just enough to let him feel the warmth of her breath.

“Hope ya packed more than fight gear, Severin,”

she whispered, hair cascading like ink against his skin.

“Because tonight, I’m the bloody main event… and I don’t plan on goin’ easy.”

[DSX93]

Knackered. Wiped out. You name your synonym: He's it. But more dangerously than that? He was a sitting duck. So tired that he didn't even notice that someone was in bed with him. Severin hadn't even intended to fall asleep; just to rest his eyes, for just a few minutes. Those initial whispers were heard, but his mind took them as something to mix into his dream.

He sure felt the rolling of hips against his own, though. Then that hand that was settled on his chest. The warmth of Keira's body so close to his. Her lips mere centimeters from his ear.

His Lady had a fantastic of making this exciting, not knowing what to expect. Relying on his other senses, mainly just feeling her...it was so...yes! So Severin kept his eyes closed, but he was sure as hell awake now. Awake everywhere, as she was guaranteed to be feeling.

"Oh, hello, my Lady!"

She's already won. He's too tired to fight. As for lovemaking, however? Oh, he was grinning too. He was ready to be owned!

Come and take your servant!

“Oi. G’day, big man.”

That voice was all wrong. The pitch. The terms she used. The accent.

This isn't Keira!

Severin's eyes shot wide open, his grin wiped off of his face entirely as he was greeted with the sight of a beautiful, athletic white-haired woman in a silk nightie. She simultaneously wasn't and was the worst thing he could've woken up to.

"What the?!"

She...explained herself while his tongue was deciding how it wanted to finish that sentence. She was his opponent. Though whether that was official or not remained a mystery. Along with how the hell she got into this room! He for damn sure hadn't just left the door open. That's how you get killed in horror movies, especially when you're black!

Her hands took hold of his wrists, manipulating him just the way he liked: Firm enough to establish who's in charge. Not going overboard. And the way she moved her hips while she did it made for some contact down below that had him experiencing the dilemma from the first twelve seconds of

Hell, it went deeper than that: His mind, his heart, his very soul was telling him NO. But those primal caveman instincts -- basic biology was saying yes. But it was completely outnumbered. No way in hell was it winning this fight.

But Jesus Christ, though -- her approach! If this were a bedroom match...

Wait.

He looked to the door for a referee. Cameras. Something that said that this was official. Tearing his eyes away from a woman who looks like her when she's this close and on top would normally be a Herculean task, but the lack of evidence he was seeing of this being a match had him scared.

How long was he asleep for? Was Keira still shopping? Was she in the building right now? Fuck, was she on an elevator ride up? Shit, this looks terrible!

Severin had the feeling that words alone weren't going to be enough to get this woman off of him, especially with the tent he was pitching in his pants. Why does that have to be there now, of all times?

So without saying anything in response, he set his feet on the bed, bucked his hips upward, and did his utmost not to think about the pleasant sensation that came with inadvertently driving his clothed excitement up against her as he turned his body to the side, using his core strength to try to turn them around.

[Weonna]

Tia felt it the second Severin stirred beneath her—the moment that little grin of his dropped and panic took root in his eyes.

She loved it.

“Aw, bugger,”

she laughed, thick Aussie lilt curling around the words like velvet,

“You thought I was Keira, didn’t ya?”

She shifted her hips just slightly, making sure to grind down slowly against the sudden—and very noticeable—tent forming beneath her.

“Bet she don’t mount ya this good, huh?”

Severin’s reaction was pure instinct. His feet braced, hips surged upward in a buck that might’ve flung a lesser woman clean off. But not Tia. Her thighs clamped down like a steel trap as he tried to twist, using that strong core of his to roll them.

For a moment, it looked like he’d pull it off—until she moved with him.

In a heartbeat, the positions shifted, but not in the way he expected.

As he rolled, Tia let him flip her onto her back—only to wrap her thick, muscular legs around his waist in a crushing body scissors. Her arms slid up, locking behind his neck and pulling his face down, burying it between the plush, full swell of her chest.

"Oi! Down boy!"

she growled playfully, voice half-laughing as she cinched her legs just a little tighter.

"You wrestle like a bloke who’s never faced a proper girl with thunder thighs before."

Her fingers laced behind his head, keeping him pressed deep between her cleavage, silky nightdress barely separating skin from skin. She smirked down the length of his body, feeling every panicked shift, every nervous twitch, every unintended grind.

“See, big guy,”

she whispered, breathy now but still playful,

“In the ring, I’m a powerhouse. But in bed… it’s mat wrestlin’. Grapplin’. Ground game, yeah? No ropes to save ya. No bell to end the round. And definitely no ref to call a pin.”

She gave a little bounce with her hips, squeezing her thighs a bit tighter.

“Welcome to my ruleset. Surrender or K.O. Ya can pick.”

Then, pressing his face just a bit deeper between her melons, she let out a low purr.

“...But I already know which one you’re leanin’ toward.”

[DSX93]

And just like that, it got worse. She knew who he was. Knew who Keira was. But he has no clue who she is. LAW is signing several talents from all across the globe every single day, so the way he went about things was thus: He kept his focus on his opponents, the main eventers -- of every division -- and the psychopaths running amok.

Turns out he missed one. His face curled in disgust that mixed in with the panic; she was going there. That "superior woman" bullshit. His body might have reacted as it was, but Jesus Christ, that made it even easier for the rest of him.

Couldn't say the same about his ribcage, though. He supposed that he should have seen that coming, with her legs being as toned as they were, but give a guy a break: He just woke up. And as hard as she was squeezing him, that seemed to be the intention. Severin's face twisted into a grimace, but he wouldn't have long to make any sound before her arms gave him a faceful of something that he'd never once thought would ever go unappreciated, but here he is.

But then again, it makes sense that LAW would be the place that makes him want to escape the confines of a woman's breasts with the quickness. If it wasn't the owner of this pair, it probably would've been Kira Valentine III, one of the Fallen Angels, Megurine Luka, Huxian Lu, or one of LAW's other many, assorted crazies.

She had him locked in tight, too. Every movement he made seemed to be doing nothing but sliding him further into her trap. And making him feel very fucking guilty and disgusted with himself over his body's failure to discern this from intimacy. And...God...Damn it, the way she was moving her hips was making it worse!

With her flesh creating an airtight seal around his mouth and nostrils, he didn't have much time to act. And it would be here that he was extra thankful for Keira's rather fun method of training him to deal with smothering techniques.

Stay calm. Slow your mind. Think. You do have time before you black out.

Maybe he could...

With a few heavily muffled grunts of pain reverberating into Loca's chest, he crawled backwards and out of the bed. His ribs raised some protest in his head when he stood up with her in tow. They weren't cracking or anything, thank Christ, but the hell they raised was plenty loud in his head, still. And they were gonna hate him for this:

One hand gave her ass a good smack that filled the room and took a firm grip of it, and the other reached out, temporarily acting in place of his eyes as he sought out a wall or...something he could lean her against. He didn't rush to find it, either; let Loca here continue to think she's got him.

He eventually would, and when he did, he'd lean into her. Take a moment. Like maybe he was considering his options.

[Weonna]

Tia’s grin spread wide as she felt Severin stagger upright, her sculpted thighs still cinched tight around his ribs, his face lost against her chest.

“Oof— c’mon, mate, didn’t know you were such a morning cuddler,”

she purred, rolling her hips with a slow, taunting grind.

“I’ll keep ya nice ‘n snug till the cameras roll. World’s gonna see you go night-night in record time.”

She gave his hair an affectionate ruffle, confident the seal of her embrace—and the burn in his lungs—would finish the job. A soft laugh fluttered from her lips when she felt his free hand smack her backside.

“Oh, cheeky! Got a bit of fight left, huh? Guess I really do bring out the best in the blokes.”

Even as he shuffled, Tia let him steer her toward the wall, thinking he was only prolonging the inevitable. She kept murmuring in his ear, voice thick with playful promise.

“Tell ya what—after you conk out, I’ll sign that souvenir tee of yours… right over the heart. Fair dinkum keepsake.”

But a faint tremor in her toned core told a different story: she could feel his legs bracing, the tension coiling in his back. His grip on her glutes tightened—too deliberate to be a mere gasp for balance.

Her brow twitched—just a flicker of doubt—yet she pushed through it, tightening the body-scissor a hair more, determined to squeeze the suspicion away.

“Easy there, big fella… last thing you wanna do is—”

The sentence trailed off as she sensed his hips drop, weight shifting. For the first time, the Aussie’s tease took on a sharp inhale—an almost imperceptible hitch—hinting that, if Severin had one violent burst left in him, her perfect leverage could flip on its head in a heartbeat.

[DSX93]

Ugh, he could already tell that she just loves to hear herself talk. It's something to be expected in professional wrestling, yeah. But even with that slow grind, the little bit of play with his hair, the sultry edge she had to her voice, all things that should've been turning him right on, all he wanted to do was shut her up.

Even when she realized she was in danger, she was talking!

It works for him, though. The more time she spent on that, the more he had to pull a one-eighty and hurl the both of them into an unforgiving wooden floor with a violent, booming spinebuster.

[Weonna]

The moment Severin’s body twisted, Tia’s teasing smirk faltered—too late.

BOOM!

The sound of flesh and bone slamming into hardwood echoed through the room like a gunshot. The air ripped clean out of her lungs as her back arched violently on impact, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. Her legs instantly loosened from his waist, no longer bearing down like iron vices. The once-coiled predator was now sprawled, limbs askew, her body shuddering as it tried to process the sudden trauma.

“...F-fuuhh—”

she wheezed, her cheek pressed against the floor, mouth parted, eyes wide and unfocused.

That playful, superior glint? Gone. Her chest rose and fell in ragged heaves as her body twitched slightly beneath him. Every nerve was alight with pain, the wind completely knocked out of her sails. Her core—once in complete control—was now trembling beneath the weight of the man she had just been so sure she had wrapped around her finger.

For the first time, Tia Harris wasn’t saying anything.

And that silence might’ve been the loudest sound Severin had heard all morning.

[DSX93]

Severin rose onto his knees with a pained grunt, his ribcage readjusting to life outside of a vice grip. But he couldn't relax yet. It sounded harsh even to himself, but he had to set an example here. After how he put the higher-ups on blast again, this was stinking of a set up. And even if she came here of her own volition, well, them's the breaks. With all these crazies going around kidnapping people, breaking into locker rooms, homes, stabbing motherfuckers and all kinds of insanity -- it's insane, the shit that's allowed in combat pro wrestling -- it was only a matter of time before he had to deal with it too.

And by God, he's going to be one of those FAFO cases.

That would start with his hands around her throat. And not in the fun way that he does in his Hentai matches. Oh no, this was the Homer Simpson business he'd give her, squeezing down on her throat as hard as he could. "Fuckin' lunatic!" He'd growl. "Crazy bitch" was the first description to come to mind, but his mother had raised a gentleman. "Bitch" was held up as one of the worst words that a man could call a woman.

Severin's tired mind wasn't firing quite like it normally does. Case in point, his positioning: He was throttling the hell out of this woman, sure, but not a thought went to moving himself away from another vicelike scissorhold in turn...

Slang Translator

"FAFO" -- "Fuck Around and Find Out"

[Weonna]

Tia’s limbs flailed weakly now. Her fingers scratched at the hands crushing her throat, feet sliding across the floor in a desperate attempt to find leverage. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out — just sharp, wheezing gasps. Her eyes were wide, panicked, and unfocused.

But then the door silently creaked.

Akane.

Spoiler

She stepped into the room in silence, her expression unreadable. Dressed in tight skinny jeans, white sneakers, and a fitted black shirt with bold white kanji across the front「死神」 (Shinigami) .

In her right hand: a heavy, hard-shell suitcase, scuffed and reinforced at the corners.

She paused only for a moment.

Eyes on Tia, then eyes on him.

Then she moved silently behind the attacker of her ally...

CRACK!

The suitcase swung with perfect precision — full force across the back of Severin’s head! The moment it connected, Tia was released — her limp body falling to the side as she coughed and gagged, trying to force air back into her lungs.

Akane stood over them both, exhaling slowly through her nose. Still not speaking.

With a flick of her arm, she hurled the suitcase onto the bed, where it landed with a heavy bounce and thud.

Then she stepped forward.

Her foot came down hard on Severin’s shoulder, grinding his body into the floor, pinning him there without hesitation.

Her eyes narrowed.

“伏せろ、汚物め.(“Stay down, filth.”)