Beneath the Surface (For Weonna)

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino didn't need much convincing. He didn't need any, really. He knew what he wanted, and he intended to take it. But bringing that confession out of her was two things simultaneously - forcing her to accept what they both already knew to be true, and it's such an aphrodisiac. Even as she's detailing how badly she wants him, Domino is diving back in. Head tilted, teeth move with purpose to find the soft skin of her throat in a pressing bite midway up the neck. His hand redoubles its grip in her hair to keep her head tilted back, fingers tangled in sweat-ladden follicles.

His other arm slides down her waist to her hips, then directly to her thighs, trying to push the legs to unlock from around him. They're assuredly in the way of what he - they both - want. And her reward for compliance is that hand rapidly switching to gather a bunch of the fabric of her trunks at her hip to begin pulling down and away from her lower half. His hips raise from hers, a grudging pause in the grind with the promise of more, better, craven contact in the immediate future.

[Weonna]

The sudden rush of air against her overheated skin sends a shiver down her spine, a stark contrast to the bruising grip of his hand on her hip. The sound of fabric tearing or sliding away is a grim promise of the exposure to come, leaving her exposed and trembling in anticipation.

"Still think you're a big man, do ya?"

she breathes, her voice husky with a mixture of defiance and need

"Bit slow on the uptake, aren't ya? Took you long enough to figure it out. Well? Don't keep me waitin'. I ain't no prize to be opened with silver spoons. Tear it off me."

[CyanDimitrik]

That mouth of hers. That smarmy, smart-mouth that got her into this in the first place. It's a frustrating element, enough so to ignite in him a near delirium of wanting to conquer her in every imaginable way, because she deserves it. And it's exactly what she wants. Whether it's what she wanted from the outset or not, he has no idea. But he knows her goading now. He knows it as well as he's getting to know her body. It still frustrates him. It still makes him want to show her up. Which means if this was her goal from the beginning, Rianne might be more dangerous than anyone else on the roster.

Her jeering earns a growl, the rumble reverberating from his mouth to her throat, each tooth pressing into her skin like electrodes. The hand grabbing the fabric now bunched in his palm pulls sharply once. Twice. The third is the final rip, tearing the material away to toss aside. He didn't want to rip her gear initially - it's gear. Gear's important! It can be difficult to replace, especially if it's personalized. But somehow, he isn't surprised that Rianne wouldn't care - or more likely, has extras on demand.

For his part, however, there'll be no ripping. He has the convenient positioning to not have to. Thumb hooks the hip of his trunks,and he quickly pushes them down and away, requiring only a quick squirm at the knees and flick at the heel to toss them aside, leaving him fully bared and freed - aside the boots and pads.

His head lifts at this point, canted to look down at her face. His passion-crazed amethyst eyes lock onto her blues, each heated breath beating against her lips. He wants to see her face for the next part - he wants to take in every detail as his hips push forward, driving his shaft suddenly into her, surrounding himself in her warmth.

[Weonna]

The sharp, violent tear of fabric was a gunshot in the quiet room. The cool air rushed against her now-bare, heated skin, and a thrill, sharp and terrifying, shot through her. He hadn't just taken her; he'd destroyed the last barrier between them!

Her taunting smirk evaporated, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock as he freed himself. Her eyes, wide and locked on his, saw the raw, unbridled desire burning in his amethyst gaze. This was it. The moment she had both dreaded and craved. His heated breath ghosted over her lips, a final, intimate prelude to the invasion.

Then he pushed forward.

Her mouth fell open in a silent, perfect 'O' of shock and overwhelming sensation.

Her eyes, which had been locked on his, widened impossibly, the blue depths darkening as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashed through her. It was a look of exquisite agony, of a fortress being breached by an unstoppable force. Her back arched off the couch, a strangled gasp finally tearing from her throat as she was suddenly, irrevocably, and completely filled!

[CyanDimitrik]

It's almost a blur. Everything between the end of their match minutes ago and now blends together in a confusing, heated mess of craving, anger, and gratification. Never has Domino been this aggressive with someone - and never has someone egged him on this aggressively. If he didn't know it's what she wanted, it would've stopped in the ring. But on some primal, innate level, they're on the same wavelength. Whether the anger and bitterness remains after they both get what they want will remain to be seen. This is new territory. Dangerous territory. Exciting territory.

And none of it matters the moment he feels himself surrounded with her tight warmth. Her eyes, those beautiful blue gems, the way her head pitches back, the sound of her gasp, the euphoric storm is precisely what he wanted. Her arching body would soon feel the welcome heat of his skin against her again as he lowers himself, connecting seamlessly with her feminine figure. His lower half shifts, rolling back only to push in again, enveloping himself with nothing but her anew. Each roll brings their lower extremities clashing together in a slowly hastening pump. Delectable friction builds, not only within but without, sleek abdominals grinding over sleek abdominals, her breasts pressed hard and pushed with each stroke.

His hands search for her wrists, and upon finding them, pins them down to the cushion at either side of her head. This isn't about tender affection - this is about dominance. Claiming her. She was pinned once in the ring in front of everyone; now she'll be pinned again in privacy. His face hovers over hers, locking eyes with her, amethysts burning.

[Weonna]

The feeling of him moving inside her was a revelation, a deep, rhythmic possession that stole the air from her lungs and replaced it with pure, liquid fire.

Each slow, deliberate push sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, making her toes curl and her body arch to meet his. The friction was exquisite, the grinding of his hard abs against hers, the weight of his chest crushing her breasts—it was a sensory overload that left her gasping.

When his hands found her wrists, pinning them to the couch above her head, a fresh wave of heat washed over her.

It was a possessive act that spoke directly to the part of her that had been dying to be conquered. She was trapped, utterly at his mercy, and the feeling was enchanting. She tested his grip, not to escape, but to feel his strength.

Her eyes, dark with lust, locked onto his, a smirk playing on her lips despite the breathless moans escaping her.

"Is that all you've got, love?"

she panted, her voice a husky challenge.

"You had me screamin' in the ring... now I want you to make me scream in 'ere~"

[CyanDimitrik]

There it was again, that challenge. A dare, almost. A dare to ramp it up further. There was no intention to ease back on any of this to begin with. But perhaps it's the heat of the moment, the very conflicting factors at play here coloring his view of the situation, but Rianne's goading comes across to him as venomously affectionate - like a lovebite from a tarantula. Bizarre, but somehow on point for their interactions so far. Anything else might seem strange in the moment.

Regardless, it gets the result Rianne was prodding for. Domino's hands grip onto those wrists a little tighter, squeezing firm enough to feel her pulse in his palms. The only vocal reply she's getting is a throaty growl, his eyes narrowing on hers in challenge. But everything else is far less subtle; the way he pistons within her, removing all air of civility. Each stroke is a hammering blow of his hips to hers, fast, firm, forceful, driven by the desire to work her higher, tighter, tenser. The friction is exquisite, the dominant position over her body, feeling her beneath him with every pull and thrust, a thrill enough to match. As the top of Rianne's head meets the armrest anew with each hastened pump, Domino's face lowers again to her neck. The soft skin is captured between teeth and pressed - tight, claiming, feral.

[Weonna]

The growl was her only warning before the world shattered. The slow, teasing rhythm was gone, replaced by a brutal, punishing pace that stole her breath and shattered her thoughts.

Each hammering thrust drove a sharp, guttural cry from her throat, the sound raw and uninhibited.

"Ah!—Ah!—Yes!"

The words were torn from her lips, punctuated by the rhythmic slap of skin on skin.

Her body was no longer her own; it was an instrument he was playing with masterful, violent precision. The sharp, possessive bite on her neck sent a jolt of pleasure-pain, and her back arched off the couch, pressing her breasts harder against his chest.

Her fingers, trapped in his grip, curled and uncurled, her nails digging into her own palms. The coil in her stomach tightened to an unbearable degree, a spring winding tighter and tighter with every powerful stroke.

"Oh, god! Don't stop! Please, don't stop!"

she sobbed, her voice breaking as the pleasure built to an crescendo, her mind going completely blank, consumed by nothing but the feeling of him taking her over!