Fanning Flames! Blaise Cameron vs Blade Uehara

[CyanDimitrik]

Of all the things Blaise has ever experienced within the confines of the squared circle, this was certainly not one of them. Being bulldogged to the mat? That's happened before. It can't always be avoided! Especially if he's distracted by the fact that he's woefully starstruck with his opponent, and more than a little attracted to her. No, what he didn't expect was a smack to his posterior.

Blaise's head shoots upright, eyes widened in surprise. Audience members get a laugh, the camera gets to immortalize the moment to live on forever, and Blade rolls the surprised Blaise over onto his back. When he doesn't feel her body pressing immediately over him in a pinfall, he takes the moment to try to recollect his thoughts. One arm crosses his chest, rising and falling heavily as he regains his breath from the previous impact.

Suddenly, Blade Uehara's trim stomach is landing directly across Blaise's sleek abdominals.

His body curls around her with a gasp before lying flat, his mind buzzing with a static-y white noise of disjointed thoughts. First - he knows he should've moved. The smack distracted him more than he thought. It was playful, even flirty! Second, he's now in a lot of pain in the abdominal region, crushed under the expert machinations of his high-flying favorite. He can't immediately react, even as he feels his leg being hooked. Third, Blade Uehara is laying across him, her smooth stomach pressed across his midsection, pinning him down to the mat. He's had some fantasies about that exact thing, how it would feel, the smooth warmth of her skin, her toned stomach...

Fourth, he's being pinned. Crap!

The referee-girl slides into place beside the pair, hand raised at the ready. Blaise lies dazed beneath Blade, his leg hanging in her grasp, every breath pshing his midsection against hers rhythmically.

"ONE!"

[killcarrion]

Back when Blade was still a humble trainee within the wrestling business, being tasked with assembling and disassembling wrestling rings with training regiments that could be interpreted as cruel and unusual punishment in other countries, there was one established veteran who imparted a specific lesson which stuck with the aerialist all these years later. Which was that no matter what road you take throughout your own wrestling career, having fun should forever remain one of your top priorities. Granted that one wrestler's interpretation of having fun can vary wildly between competitors, but for Blade it equated to being a mischievous little scamp and swatting Blaise's adorable backside to the audience's chuckled enjoyment. It was honestly meant to be just some mirthful merriment and about as unorthodox a manner a girl has ever told a guy that she maybe likes him, but who’s to say if Blaise catches what Blade's pitching in terms of signals being sent from one wrestler to another.

Still, wrestling instincts were a fickle thing. They tended to be cultivated as pure muscle memory when wrestlers were presented with specific situations numerous times throughout their career. For submission artists, it might be springing to action when you see an unguarded limb with your opponent being nowhere near the ropes. For hardcore brawlers, it was spotting the perfect weapon in a readily supplied trash can meant for clobbering the competition. For Blade, it meant taking to the blue sky and splashing down upon an adversary's heaving midsection at the first good opportunity. The faintest swell of her chest puffed atop his own pectorals in a compromising pin attempt that became increasingly perilous as the seconds ticked down. The aerialist smirking down at the winded phoenix whose sculpted physique heaved against her own taut warmth, even taking the time to map out and flirtatiously swirl her index finger on his pecs just for teasing fun as the pin count reached the count of...

"TWO!!"

[CyanDimitrik]

It's a many-faceted thing, being in the heat of a full-contact sport. Some things are noted. Some things are missed. Other things cause Blaise Cameron to mentally bluescreen. That slap did the latter. It's an evening of firsts for him - wrestling a fan-favorite, and that. To now feeling her body splayed against his, which in any other context, would've been an immediately and overwhelmingly welcome sensation. It still is, in a very loud, internal way, but he has a match to wrestle and a girl to impress. Incidentally, the girl to impress is the one lying on him.

Her finger-doodle tracing the chiseled lines of his pectoral muscle adds more volume to that internal voice. If the smack wasn't indication enough, this definitely rings as flirty. Even fun.

The referee raises her hand.

Blade would've felt it before the movement materialized - the flexing, compact tensing of the midsection underneath hers as the abdominal muscles engage like a springcoil. And immediately after, the captive leg kicks out, jolting free of his bind and bringing his shoulder up off the mat. His body twists slightly to the side, tucking himself a little against Blade's torso, breathing more heavily.

"I'm gonna.. pay you back for that one..!," he calls to her over the volume of the audience. His head tilts to try to shoot her a quick smile.