Unexpected Domino Effect - Brielle & Domino.

[Afterhoursclub]

For a moment, Brielle's smile turned into a pained expression, the Devilish goth held her knee briefly, trying to keep her balance. Even though it was her entire core, aching from the previous fight, what was causing her to stagger.

"Woah.. This... Sucks..." she said, keeping an unusual straight face until she managed to soothe the fleeting pain.

Then she turns back to Domino, fixing her eyes on the kneeling model. She was annoyed... Mainly with herself... Not being able to capitalize on what was a clear opening, at the same time she was convinced that it wouldn't be her only chance for that... She only needed to...

"Oughh..." the moment she saw Domino rushing toward her, Brielle tried to raise her hands to cover herself... Perhaps even attempt to counter him... But she was still too slow, his hand came to her chest and pushed her back against the wall, slamming into it with a loud thudding noise.

"Huff... You seem rather eager, Hon..." she snickered back at him, pinned against the wall. Struggling to break free...

Until that punch came. Domino's fist slamming against her already battered abdominal wall, his knuckles digging deep into her skin.

"Aughhh!" she wheezed. With a burst of air escaping her lungs. With all the strength she could gather in that precarious position, she placed her hands on the models chest and attempted to push him away. If she was lucky there would be some space between them, just enough for her to fire her own strike, a punch targeting his ribs while covering her gut with her free hand. However this one would be slow... Almost Telegraphed. Further evidence of her tiredness.

[CyanDimitrik]

"Sounds like you've got a good read on me, then," Domino replies after pressing his knuckles into her midsection. Lingering there in that pressure is less about inflicting pain or weakening her, and more about reacquainting himself with the feel of her tightly corded midsection - or rather, how they used to be, prior to being worked over. That, in itself, brings a level of satisfaction. Brielle's a sculpted specimen with a solid, athletic physique. Breaking her down is something anyone would be proud.

Her hands press to his chest and shove, and Domino falters back a single step. But the sluggish punch that comes in as a follow-up, he... doesn't block. He tenses his core and tanks the hit, deliberately letting her feel his abdominals against her hand. The spot aches immediately, but the slower nature of it gives him that time to brace, and bleeds much of the power out of it.

Instead, he grabs for her waist to pull her away from the wall and forcefully turn her around, or attempts to. The motions are firm, direct, nothing short of manhandling the woman. And if he can turn her away, his arms wrap firm around her stomach from behind, pressing his hips tight against her rear.

There's an immediate compression intended to sap more of the fight out of her before easing the tension again - lightening it up without letting her go.

"Bet it's a close second, feeling you tap out..," he murmurs to her. "Pinning you was perfect. But making you submit could be fun. Think you can tough it out?," he asks.

[Afterhoursclub]

The tension of this impromptu encounter could rival that of the official match. With the added layer of both already being acquainted with the other's physique, with the way they behaved, the intricacies of their personalities, and the unexplainable need to be the last one standing after utterly dominating the other, leaving no doubt as to who the "winner" truly was.

This wasn't about records anymore, or looking strong in front of a crowd or the cameras. It was something that they simply wanted, wished for... and desired.

"Huh!" Brielle placed both hands on the man's chest and pushed him away, creating just enough space between them to try and fire a fast strike to his gut, but this one lacked the strength and the speed needed to cause any real damage... Even though her fist struck its target, the only thing she found was a wall of toned muscle completely absorbing the damage.

"Ohh..." The goth couldn't help but feel surprised. They had been pretty much staring at each other for the last couple of hours, and she was well aware of how seriously Domino took his physical preparation by simply looking at him; perhaps this was something they had in common...

But her knuckles clashing into that firm and slick abdominal wall... not even making him flinch, it spelled bad news for her in any way one looked at it, but for some odd reason, The Brit wasn't feeling bothered at all. For a moment, her eyes got lost in the sudden redness forming around the area hit. And that brief pause was enough for Domino to take the lead.

"Hey... what... Ughhh!" Brielle was turned around, and without delay, the model's arms coiled around the lower part of her abdomen, applying instant pressure and compressing her torso. Forcing another wheeze out of her mouth. She struggled to break free, grabbing his arms with both hands and trying to pull them apart. But the hold was too tight.

"Fuck..." She was in trouble, running out of what little stamina she had left. Then, she remembered something, an obvious reality... There was no referee; this wasn't a real match... so no reason to play by any so-called "rules"

She released her grip on the man's limbs and raised her arms, momentarily letting the entire force of Domino's embrace crush her guts. "Ooughhh..." But her hands quickly went to her back, searching for the man's face... if he wanted to get this close to her, he would pay the price in full...

Brielle would attempt to rake Domino's eyes to try to break his hold.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino drags Brielle back from the lockers to get some extra space in the middle of the room, and proceeds to compress the girl's midsection. But the bearhug doesn't remain the focus so much as the sheer level of closeness with the woman, securing her body back against his. It's a thrill, 'fighting' with her in a way that's purely off the books. In a way that seems to only have the goal of physical, sensual dominance. And to that end, when her hands leave his arms, the pressure of the squeeze decreases in favor of letting his hands explore her midsection. Fingertips feel out each ridge and line of abdominal muscle, and his head tips forward, bringing his lips closer to the base of her neck.

There's a sudden squeeze again to reassert the dominant position when he feels her hands exploring his neck, his jawline. His head tilts, bringing his lips close enough to her ear that she can feel each exhale whisking against her skin - only for a sudden, surprised yelp and release of her waist. He staggers back, pain shooting through his now firmly shut eyes. Both palms are raised, defensively shielding over the sockets.

"Fricking.. are you serious!?," he balks in surprise. He staggers back a couple steps, but is immediately all too aware of how defenseless that stunt has made him!

[Afterhoursclub]

For a very brief moment, lost in the exhaustion and the constant struggle of trying to overpower the man behind her, Brielle's fingers graced Domino's skin... slowly dancing across his features as if she were sizing up a delicate work of art... She had spent the last few hours tussling and throwing herself around with the model, but now... In the private intimacy of the lonely locker room, she could experience all the details she had missed.

The chiseled jaw, the deceiving softness of his skin, the breathing... so close to her that she could feel its warmth brushing down her neck, sending a shiver down her own spine. It wasn't about "winning" or "losing" anymore... it was something else, something deeper than that.

"Hmph.." Brielle tried to suppress a soft moan when Domino's arms closed in tighter around her midsection, his fingers digging in and exploring carefully every crevice of her toned abdominal wall, eased up by the moisture already running through every inch of her body.

"You... You really liked them, don't you?" She asked, in a short moment of closeness. Turning her head so she could give the man a tender look, drawing long breaths, her chest rising and falling while still trapped in Domino's embrace.

That short pause was everything...

-Scratch-

As soon as she could get a better view, Brielle raked the model's eyes, effectively freeing herself from the tight hug. Domino staggered a few steps, defenseless for the first time... As the goth gal turned toward him...

"I like you..." She said, placing both hands over Domino's shoulders while this one shielded his eyes with his palms. "You are very different from everyone else I have fought..."

Immediately after saying this, her knee rises, lodging a hefty blow into the model's guts.

"But... I tend to break the things that I like..." She delivers another knee.

[CyanDimitrik]

As a matter of fact, he does. A tightly-toned body is, in no uncertain terms, a turn-on for him. Why, he couldn't say. Most would expect him to be most drawn to softer, gentler women. But whatever it is that's tweaked in his brain, making him want to pursue something like professional wrestling while simultaneously modeling, has likely colored his tastes significantly. And Brielle is an athletic specimen, without entering into that... gross, gorilla-esque physique that some push into.

His head turned towards hers as she looked back at him, and for a fleeting moment, he'd considered leaning in closer to her. But those fingers. Those fingers caught his eyes, and there was nothing he could do but recoil with the burning, stinging pain that followed.

His flabbergasted response doesn't get much of an answer. Not a perfectly satisfying one, anyway. Mixed signals is Brielle's whole game, and he damn well knew that. What he's realizing now, as a knee thumps into his midsection, is that he's going to need to play rough with her. Rougher than she's being. And also that her lower body isn't as weakened as her upper-body.

A second blow. "UNGH!" Domino's body jolts from the knee, causing him to drop to a kneeling position. One hand rubs at his eyes, desperately trying to soothe the stinging down to let him trust to look again, while the other arm crosses his torso.