Throes of Passion: Madeline Christiansen vs Cleo Hulbury

[Bare]

The fiery dance between Cleo and Madeline had truthfully only just started, yet the complex moves and techniques the two were unleashing against each other made things feel far longer and more elaborate. As if every move and technique was five in one. Which in turn is why Cleo's latest reversal felt like a big deal since not only did she get free of Madeline's grip, and would have been in a position to take a decisive advantage over her opponent.... If she had been able to actually do what she wanted to at least. Unfortunately for Cleo however Madeline was quick as a whip and broke free of Cleo's grip once again, pulling her leg in to act as a barrier between them and adjusting her face to rest against Cleo's thigh keeping her from locking anything in..

"Tch..." Cleo hissed in light annoyance before smirking down at Madeline again"It would have been a lot more enjoyable for both of us if you did." Cleo breathed out right back at the woman as Madeline partially separated from her, with Cleo taking the liberty to complete this, pushing her hands against the match and throwing herself backwards, pulling her knees in against herself and rolling away until her feet got under her and pushing herself up to a standing ready position staring down Madeline from across the ring. "Sooner than later I'll claim my prize... So don't get too comfortable." Cleo hummed out as she began to circle Madeline, waiting for her to make the first move!

[Lightman]

Madeline exhaled slowly and steadily as the distance opened between them, one hand pressing to the mat while her other leg extended, fluidly resetting her base. Her gaze never left Cleo’s, sharp and utterly unbothered. She let her lips curl just enough to register the smirk, a flicker of amusement dancing behind her calm eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you would’ve made it very entertaining,” she murmured, her voice honeyed and dry, “but I’ve got a habit of ruining expectations.” The comment slipped out like silk over wire, a polite warning dressed in flirtation.

As Cleo rolled away with a gymnast’s grace, Madeline took her time rising, not rushed, not flustered. She rolled onto her feet in one clean movement and pushed herself upright, her body unfolding like a drawn bow. Measured, with heels slightly lifted, weight on the balls of her feet, and flexing fingers, she assumed her stance. She watched Cleo prowl the edge of the ring like a lioness eyeing her next pounce, heard the challenge veiled in that smooth, humming voice. Madeline tilted her head ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, smile sharpening. “Comfort’s boring,” she said coolly. “And if you want me, Cleo? You’ll have to earn me.”

The circling began, and Madeline mirrored it with quiet precision, never crossing her feet, always keeping the angle tight. No sudden dives. No reckless lurches. She was studying not just Cleo’s movement, but her pacing, the tension in her frame. And when the timing felt just right, Madeline darted in, not with a strike, but a feint, a teasing flash of motion toward Cleo’s thigh, to draw the compatriot’s reaction. The real move would come a beat later, subtle and fast, a drop in level and a slip inside the guard, fingers snaking behind Cleo’s lead leg as Madeline angled for a low single takedown, one meant to drag the match right back where she wanted it: close, tangled, dangerous.

[Bare]

Cleo hummed to herself in thought as she circled around her opponent, looking her over head to toe, waiting patiently this time and not willing to present her opponent with an easy opportunity against her. Quite the contrary in fact, this time Cleo was waiting with determination for her opponent to make a mistake so that she could be the one to capitalize this time around. "I see that, may be you're one and only unattractive quality I'm afraid." Cleo mused teasingly towards her opponent, perfectly content in engaging with some competitive verbal jabs.

Catching the narrowed gaze and especially sharp smile drawing across her face Cleo would take note of how confident Madeleine was. It was simultaneously beautiful and unnerving. Cleo knew one thing though, that she would do everything in her power to wipe that smile off the woman's face. Finally though Cleo would get a chance as Madeline would finally burst forward, coming in towards her, but the movement was very non committal, unlike what Cleo had come to expect from her so far and she wasn't about to be caught flat footed again so rather than react she'd wait a moment.

A moment that would be to her benefit. Madeline would shift focus, still going for her leg but with a more focused effort to seemingly grab at her leg. 'Tch.' Cleo thought to herself as with practiced ease she lifted her foot backwards, out of Madeline's range while sliding forward on her lead foot, performing a sudden perfect split that would leave Cleo eye level with a likely still lowered Madeline!

"Didn't think I'd fall for such a trick did you?" Cleo asked suddenly as she then twisted and brought her arm up, aiming to drive a uppercut right into her opponent's stomach! That wasn't all though as, if successful Cleo would twist and pull her forward leg in, using it to try and kick the back of Madeline's knee while arching backwards, trying to get her hands under her and springing backwards to get some distance from a hopefully now hurting Madeline!

[Lightman]

Madeline heard the tease and let it hang in the air without a flinch, only quirking an eyebrow as if it mildly amused her. “One and only?” she echoed dryly, her voice velvet-wrapped steel. “That’s sweet of you to keep count.” Her pacing didn’t falter, not even as she clocked the way Cleo studied her like prey trying to convince itself it was the hunter. She could see that flicker of focus, the readiness to pounce the second a misstep appeared.

The burst forward was intentional misdirection, and when Cleo didn’t bite, Madeline silently nodded in respect. Good. She was adjusting. When she dipped low and went for the leg, she felt the change instantly, Cleo pulling her foot back, pivoting forward. Madeline’s fingers scraped nothing but the air, the gap widening, vision tilted—and there she was. Cleo, suddenly in a perfect split, staring at her eye to eye. Madeline blinked once, registering the sheer audacity of the move. Flexible and dramatic. How tragic to waste it on cheap theatrics.

But there’s much more layered underneath the theatrics. The uppercut came fast, and Madeline’s gut tensed just in time to absorb the bulk of it. It landed, but she rolled her core with the hit to lessen the impact, her breath hitching but not breaking. A habit that she picked up considering the dangers of close quarters. Cleo’s follow-up was sharper: a low kick meant to buckle her from behind. Madeline’s leg caught mid-shift, but instead of resisting, she dropped with it, folding her own knee as she collapsed forward onto one arm. The motion would look like a stumble, at least to the untrained eye, but it was a setup. Her free leg swung out from beneath her like a scythe, aiming for a sweeping leg reap while Cleo’s split base left her centre wide open. Aimed to undo the foundation entirely rather than merely knock her off balance. “Careful.” she breathed, her lips curling with slow satisfaction. “You keep opening those legs for me and I might get the wrong idea.”

Even as Cleo twisted to spring away, Madeline’s hand would shoot up in a last-second bid to hook around the inside of her thigh. Just a flick of fingers and tension, nothing more. Aiming to cling, to slow the compatriot, if only for a moment.

[Bare]

Playful banter aside Cleo would be the first to admit that Madeline was a VERY attractive woman. Tall, elegant, smooth silky hair, legs that went for days and an athletic build that looked sculpted from stone. In that regard they both may have been cut from the same slab of marble, all of the traits Cleo admitted Madeline having she naturally believed that she too possessed. Even beyond the superficial however the two were similar.

They bought fought mainly with kicks with throws and submissions supplementing along with a very heavy focus on the more... intimate side of competition and they were both sharp witted and tactical with a emphasis on trying to break the other down. Perhaps that's why the match as a whole felt like a dead heat. Even for the moments Madeline was in control it was never long and Cleo was always quick to figure out a way to counter or escape. But Madeline had been the one to lead, and Cleo was determined to change that.

Thankfully her strategy seemed to work... Mostly. Cleo could tell from the way the woman's stomach felt under her fist that the abs were tensed and it didn't do as much damage as she liked but that was fine. Or would be if Cleo's kick to Madeline's leg hadn't been met with a kick of Madeline's own, destroying her base and sending her to the mat! Grunting softly Cleo glared for a moment before composing herself and trying to continue with her plan of trying to roll backwards and away, getting her palms on the mat below her and lifting herself up.

Once again however her opponent moved to interrupt her. Reaching out and grabbing at her leg as she got up. Fury suddenly surged through Cleo as she raised her hips, lifted her free leg up and with a twist and push with her hands Cleo looked to pull her whole body inwards, trying to drag Madeline with her just a few inches to throw off her guard before bringing her raised leg down with as much force as she could muster to slam a kick down on the crown of Madeline's head! "Add being clingy to the list of unattractive qualities!" Cleo would hiss if she was successful before trying to roll forward to get away fully from Madeline and get up to a standing position!

[Lightman]

Madeline knew beauty when she saw it, and someone had undeniably carved the aggravating, theatrical Cleo from the same stone. Sharp features, toned lines, and that confident strut that dared anyone to look away. They were mirrors with cracked reflections, all elegance and fire, the pairing that made matches like this happen. And under all that attitude, Cleo knew it, too. That’s why it stung her, not just that Madeline kept matching her, but that she did it without losing composure. Even when the match was neck and neck, Cleo was still reacting. Madeline was still guiding.

She’d felt the punch, enough to draw breath and bite down on the edge of pain, but it hadn’t landed the way Cleo wanted, and Madeline knew it. The kick exchange had been the actual break, her heel crashing against Cleo’s inner leg, wrecking the compatriot’s perfect foundation and sending her back to the mat in a tumble of effort and frustration. Madeline didn’t chase recklessly. She watched with cerebral calculation. Cleo was trying to roll out again, her hips lifting, her weight shifting, but this time, Madeline wasn’t letting her get away so easily.

Her hand snapped to Cleo’s ankle again, not with desperation, but with intent. She anchored herself, staying low, using her grip not just to cling but to control. And as Cleo’s body suddenly curled in tight, pulling her forward, Madeline recognised the trap. The kick came, high, brutal, aimed for her skull, but Madeline twisted just enough, her shoulder rolling forward, taking her off the line by mere inches. The heel grazed and brushed her hair rather than cracking into her crown, and her smile twisted cold beneath the shadow of Cleo’s leg. “Oh, darling,” she murmured as her arm locked tight around Cleo’s ankle, “If I’m clingy, it’s because your balance is so easy to break.”

Before Cleo could fully roll away, Madeline turned into the grip, wrenching her hips sideways and pulling Cleo’s leg across her own lap while falling back straight into an Achilles lock. The torque came fast, precise; the heel trapped in the crook of her arm while her other hand clasped over the foot to apply pressure. It wasn’t a match-ender, not yet at least, but it was sharp, sudden, and meant to remind Cleo that if she kept trying to flee every time things got close, Madeline was going to make every exit hurt.

[Bare]

Cleo had a near flawless plan in place to catch Madeline and finally make her break. In a way it had become Cleo's unofficial mission in this bout. To make Madeline's composure break and have this goddess of a woman cry out in pain, agony, embarrassment, frustration, something. But damn it if Madeline wasn't making it difficult with nothing Cleo throwing seeming to work on her.

Even this plan which had been flawless in Cleo's mind had ended up failing in the end of Madeline managed to reach out and grab Cleo's leg, stalling her retreat and giving the brunette enough leverage to pull herself down a bit and avoid Cleo's strike for the woman's head. 'God damn it!' Cleo thought to herself with growing frustration as to top it all off Madeline still had a grip on her ankle as well which only made Cleo growl softly in response as she heard the woman's taunt.

Something within Cleo welled up then. Even as her escape was stopped Cleo would let it, her own frustration fueling her as her leg was pulled up, in the same moment Cleo would get her hands and free foot under her in the process, using that pull of her caught let to build a semblance of momentum while using her free limbs to push up explosively. 'If she wants to be so close then fine!' Cleo thought to herself as she aimed to push herself on top of Madeline!

The effects would be two fold. On one hand it would help alleviate the pressure on her foot in Madeline's hold, as well as making the woman's grip a bit awkward and unwieldy, limiting what Madeline could do to it. Secondly while Madeline's hands would be busy with trying to maintain the hold it would allow Cleo to start throwing strikes at Madeline's head. Not just punches though. Oh no Cleo would be sure to throw directed palm thrusts into the sides of the woman's face, the heels of her palms being the specific part to slam into her face, trying to knock her head side to side with each strike!

[Lightman]

Madeline could feel the irritation coming off Cleo like heat. Every plan unravelled, every strike dodged or dulled—it was getting under her skin. And that was the true beauty of this match. Cleo wasn’t just trying to win; she was trying to crack something open, to rattle her. That intent had weight, and Madeline wore it like perfume. With every failed ploy, she felt the tension tighten around her opponent, and she knew the breaking point wasn’t just physical…it was mental. That’s where Madeline lived.

The catch on the ankle held fast, but she could feel it twitch, Cleo coiling again, no longer trying to escape but to engage. That was fine. Encouraged, even. Madeline welcomed the shift in energy. “Oh? Not running this time?” she cooed, her tone cool and indulgent, as if inviting a lover back into her arms. But the grip didn’t loosen. She felt Cleo’s weight shift and her body rise, trying to throw herself on top, trying to use Madeline’s own control against her. It was clever. Brutal. Desperate. Exactly the moment Madeline thrived.

The pressure on the ankle slackened slightly as Cleo pushed up, but Madeline responded by flowing instead of resisting. As Cleo surged, Madeline twisted her hips to the side and pulled her trapped leg in tighter to her chest, effectively turtling her upper body while keeping Cleo's weight unbalanced. Her grip adapted, loosening just enough to let her left arm shoot up in defence the moment the palm strikes began to rain. One hit grazed her cheekbone, sharp and stinging, but the next met her forearm. Then another. Madeline tucked and framed her guard tightly, absorbing the flurry like a storm against her shell, all while her legs coiled like loaded springs beneath Cleo’s shifting balance.

Then, with sudden precision, Madeline exploded upward. Not to throw Cleo off, but to reverse the momentum. Her legs kicked high, scissoring around Cleo’s upper torso just under the arms. Her core flexed, pulling the compatriot forward, into her guard, as her arms wrapped tightly behind Cleo’s neck. In one swift motion, Madeline would transition from bottom to top, rolling to her side and dragging Cleo with her into a tight triangle position, locking her legs just as the strikes were forced to stop. Her voice came low, silk threaded with steel, close to Cleo’s ear. “You wanted close,” she whispered. “Now choke on it~.”

[Bare]

Moving to get on top of Madeline's body and mount her to deliver a series of palm strikes at the downed woman Cleo was only barely aware of the fact that the woman under her twisting and shifting under her, creating an unbalanced base for her. 'Damn it!' Cleo thought, watching as Madeline got her arms up to start blocking her, but no matter, Cleo would just keep wailing away until she managed to break the woman's guard.

Before she could do so however it would appear that Madeline had a plan of her own in mind. Pulling her legs up and locking them around Cleo's body, getting her off of her and pulling Cleo in closer to Madeline while the woman's arms up to trap her in a triangle choke hold! "Ngh! Ugh!" Cleo grunted and gagged out against the woman's limbs as she was choked by her.

'Damn it! DAMN IT!' Cleo thought to herself with fury, glaring at Madeline from her place buried against the brunette's body, as not only was caught in this submission but Madeline saw fit to mock Cleo. Squeezing Madeline's thighs with an iron vice like grip Cleo could feel her rage building, wanting nothing more then to shut her opponent up.

Continuing to squeeze her foe's legs as tight as possible with one hand Cleo's other hand would reach out, grabbing and squeezing Madeline's neck directly as if for a straight up choke. However as she did so Cleo would be getting her legs under her, pushing herself up and lifting Madeline along with her, hauling her up and trying to bring Madeline down with a make shift choke slam, her grip on the woman's throat and neck being as tight as possible all the way through to make sure she didn't escape!

[Lightman]

The rhythm that Cleo’s body had start to falter the moment her base was disrupted. The strikes came less clean, her weight shifting unevenly over Madeline’s torso as she fought to stay balanced. Madeline saw where a lesser fighter wouldn't. The tension creeping in, the loss of flow, the desperate tightening of form. And it was perfect. She let the guard hold firm just long enough to lull Cleo deeper in before launching her counter, legs rising like a steel trap and locking tight around her opponent’s neck and shoulder, pulling her into the triangle with mechanical precision.

The choke clamped down swiftly, pressure folding in from both sides as her thighs locked and her hips shifted. She felt the satisfying jolt of resistance from Cleo’s body, the sudden tightening of muscle and that familiar sound of breath being surprised. Madeline’s calves flexed, her ankles overlapping and hips slightly angling to cut off the airway even further. She heard the grunts, the ragged noises trying to force their way through Cleo’s grit. And yet, even now, Madeline’s tone stayed smooth, rich with amused cruelty. “All that fight and still so easy to trap. You’re lucky I like difficult women~.”

The grip around her legs was impressive, almost alarmingly so, as Cleo clamped down in fury. But Madeline didn’t let go. If anything, she squeezed tighter, determined to drag her opponent down into the burn of her own frustration. Then came the shift—the hand latching to her throat, and the unmistakable rising sensation as Cleo began to lift. Her back left the canvas. That was new. Her brows lifted slightly, not with panic but with fascination. The second her body tilted, she adjusted her legs, unlocking just slightly to release the choke before impact.

As she was hauled up, Madeline twisted her core mid-air, shifting her weight off-centre. The makeshift chokeslam connected, but not 100% clean. Instead of crashing flat on her back, she rotated to absorb the brunt across her shoulder and one arm, the momentum taking her into a tight tumble across the mat. Pain sparked. Brief, bright and dull, but it was the kind she could manage. She rolled into the landing, popping up to one knee with one hand already raised to rub her neck. Her eyes found Cleo’s immediately, sharp and unshaken. “Nnnnn...Add strong to that list too…” she breathed, chest rising.