First Bell, First Clue? - Laxia(D) vs. Bandita

[Letta]

Laxia’s clever counter had succeeded. Once Bandita’s arms slipped from around her waist, Laxia caught herself on all fours and managed to create a little distance between them. One hand still rested protectively over her battered abdomen as she drew several rough breaths, then slowly rose to her knees. “Haaah…… haa……”

Strands of vivid orange hair clung to the corners of her eyes. Laxia swept her head back in one elegant motion, sending her long hair and the beads of perspiration caught within it scattering beneath the brilliant arena lights. As she smoothed the disheveled locks back with one hand, her blue eyes settled upon Bandita retreating in obvious pain. The luchadora who had so boldly embraced her only moments ago was now scrambling to create distance, seemingly protective of her injured left knee. A faint smile touched Laxia’s lips. There was little spite in it. Rather, it carried the quiet satisfaction of a woman who had finally reclaimed the lead in their dance. She lowered herself onto her hands and knees once more and pursued Bandita with an elegance that did nothing to diminish her persistence. The moment she came within reach, both hands closed firmly around the toe of the luchadora’s left boot.

“Retreating already……?”

Laxia tilted her head slightly, speaking through her still-labored breathing. “Your dance was considerably shorter than I expected...” Remaining on her knees, Laxia pulled sharply on the captured leg, attempting to drag Bandita back toward the center of the ring. Her choice of target was hardly accidental. It was the same left leg that had already buckled beneath Laxia’s weight, and whose knee had struck the mat only moments earlier. Laxia had no intention of overlooking a weakness she had already uncovered. Once she had drawn Bandita close, Laxia placed her palm upon the luchadora’s shoulder as though preparing to politely chastise someone for an offense. Then, with a haughty flourish exaggerated just enough to make her intent unmistakable, she gave the shoulder a sharp shove, attempting to turn Bandita over until her stomach faced the mat.

There was no desperation in the gesture, nor any crude malice. Only the arrogant ease of someone who considered it perfectly natural to correct her opponent’s position according to her own wishes. The instant Bandita’s back was exposed, Laxia sought to climb over it and settle her weight into place. She would fold the left leg at the knee and trap it securely between her toned thighs. With the ankle and knee contained, she would step one leg forward to establish a stable base. At the same time, her arm would snake beneath Bandita’s face and jaw, drawing her head and upper body backward. The sequence.. capture, entrapment, and extension flowed together with the grace of a practiced dance. Laxia’s intended destination was an STF.

STF

If secured, Bandita’s folded left leg would remain twisted and unable to straighten between Laxia’s thighs. Her jaw and face would be drawn backward within the facelock, forcing her neck and lower back into a painful arch. Her abdomen, pressed into the canvas, might tense with every breath, but even that movement would offer her little room to escape. And Laxia had not forgotten. Only moments ago, Bandita had pressed herself against Laxia’s back, rested her chin over her shoulder, and whispered beside her ear. As though offering an elegant repayment, Laxia now lowered herself closer. She brought her face beside Bandita’s cheek, allowing her warm breath to brush lightly against the luchadora’s ear.

“Fond of hugs, hm? Then... how does this one suit you, chiquita...?”

There was playfulness in her voice, though its refinement remained impeccable. Laxia sought to draw her locking arm higher while securing the trapped leg more tightly between her thighs, attempting to pull Bandita’s jaw and upper body farther backward and deepen the pressure across her neck, back, and knee all at once. Laxia’s smile deepened as she whispered beside Bandita’s ear.

“The lead is mine now, and I have not given you leave to go...”

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita is a squirrely wrestler. When in control, she's intense and everywhere all at the same time; an overwhelming presence. A dynamo. But when she's on the defensive, her natural inclination is to get some distance and regroup. She can do that. She can get to the safety of the ropes, that'll make her opponent back off, and with a little distance, she can take her by surprise with patented banditry.

Something about the way Laxia moves, however, causes her heart to ice up. It's too deliberate. Too focused. Too determined. As though there may be thoughts of vengeance swimming in her head. And the way she prowls towards her is like an immaculate jungle predator stalking its injured prey. That thought brings immediate attention to her aching knee, and a gasp.

Oh no.

Bandita turns to try to dive for the ropes just as her fingers lash out for the bottom-most cable, she feels the mat slide against her hip and along her thigh. The ropes become distant in a single, smooth glide, Bandita's eyes widening in concern. Twisting onto her back, she has only long enough to look up at Laxia, mouth slightly open, the expressive hazel green eyes wide and round enough to make the eyeholes of her mask conform around them.

"R-rain check?," she offers in quip, her voice weak and betraying her worry; one of the myriad problems of a girl wearing her heart on her sleeve. For as much of a bandit as she is, she struggles to hide her emotions.

Unwilling to simply accept what's coming, she props herself on her elbows to give herself a little leverage. Her free leg chambers close to her chest in preparation to prepare to kick her off. But Laxia's hand finds her first, and Bandita is forcibly turned over onto her stomach.

It happens so fast, so precise. Her hurt knee is caught between a pair of fit thighs, and an invitingly warm presence settles along her back. An arm hooks beneath her chin, capturing her head and with a sudden torque and flex of those thighs, the circuit is complete. Bandita's head is pulled back and to the side, her leg experiencing a fresh shock of strain rushing from the knee downwards.

"Aaahn!"

Bandita's own pained cry is veritably wrenched from her mouth with the motion, her eyes squeezing shut in some vain effort to focus out the pain. Her left hand presses hard into the mat to try to support her weight and alleviate the strain while the right hand hooks inwards over Laxia's forearm. The warm breath beats against her ear, causing her already racing heart to skip a beat, an involuntary spasm of a thrash in the hold to no avail. Something about feeling Laxia's words radiating hotly against her skin turned the hold from purely painful into something else.

"Ngh.. 'd.. 'dis.. isn't.. a hug..!," she argues, her words staccato with each hard breath.

The playfulness in Laxia's voice isn't lost on her. It's charming. For all the lack of sense it makes to her in the moment, she's suffering under the noble, and is burgeoningly charmed by her banter; her willingness to engage in it, to play with her, to make this primal struggle for dominance not only raw, savage, and earnest, but... enjoyable. Like two equals in a mutual struggle. Because that's what it feels like to her.

A choked protest reverberates against Laxia's forearm, Bandita's free leg shifting and scooting along the mat. Her inner-thigh drags against the smooth surface, trying to find some semblance of purchase with her knee. But so far, nothing doing.

"Nice.. t-to know.. you.. like hugs.. though..!," is Bandita's response, sacrificing some air in favor of trying to banter back. That's the youthful side of her peeking out, some might say. The part of Bandita that can't help herself, that has to engage. "Aaah..!" The second sound is a pained whine, involuntary and distressed in her throat.

[Letta]

Laxia kept her weight lowered over Bandita’s back, maintaining the STF with measured control. The arm hooked beneath the luchadora’s chin drew her head and upper body backward, while the injured left leg remained securely trapped between Laxia’s toned thighs. When Bandita’s free leg searched along the mat for leverage, Laxia widened her knees and lowered her hips a little farther. Rather than relying on brute force, she methodically erased every angle the other woman might use to crawl away. Even then, one image remained vivid in Laxia’s mind. The wide, rounded eyes that had looked up at her from behind Bandita’s mask when she had dragged the luchadora away from the ropes. The moment had been brief. Yet it had left an unexpectedly powerful impression.

How cute……

It had not been the dazzling luchadora who had spent the match pulling and pushing Laxia from one bewildering exchange into the next. Bandita had tried to conceal her unease behind a joke, but her wavering voice and widened eyes had betrayed her concern with almost painful honesty. The mask concealed most of her face. Her eyes, however, concealed remarkably little.“You have remarkably honest eyes for a bandit.” Laxia murmured the observation beside her ear, almost as though thinking aloud. For the first time, Laxia found herself genuinely curious about the woman behind it. Not merely the playful bandit who smiled through every exchange, nor the flamboyant performer who soared before the crowd, but the woman whose true emotions slipped free when she was driven into danger. Would Laxia see more of her if she pressed her farther? The thought kindled a fresh flame within her competitive spirit. Victory was no longer merely a result with which to adorn her debut. She wanted to know what expression Bandita would wear when pushed to her absolute limit, and what sort of voice would answer her then.

The grounded hold also afforded Laxia a small opportunity to recover. Resting her weight along Bandita’s back, she gradually steadied her own labored breathing. She no longer needed to remain in constant motion; the trapped leg and locked arm continued the work for her. “I am afraid……” Laxia whispered beside Bandita’s ear. “Your rain check is denied.” Then she felt the luchadora’s urgent hand gripping her forearm. Bandita’s fingers curled inward, trying to peel away the arm that held her face captive. A faint smile touched Laxia’s lips. “My, my……” She inclined her cheek a little closer. “Is this your first time being held from behind?”

Bandita remained trapped and suffering beneath her, yet still refused to surrender her humor. The protest came in broken fragments between harsh breaths. Even then, she managed to answer that it was nice to know Laxia enjoyed hugs as well. “Still joking? How very charming.” The words carried fond amusement rather than mockery. The fact that Bandita still felt compelled to banter while cornered so completely struck Laxia as strangely endearing. But when another pained cry escaped the luchadora’s throat, Laxia’s composure wavered for the briefest instant. Bandita’s body tensed sharply beneath her. Her abdomen and obliques hardened against the mat with every ragged breath, while the muscles of her back shifted in instinctive resistance beneath Laxia’s weight. She had no desire to truly injure her. Yet easing the pressure now would be equally disrespectful to the opponent who had promised to give Laxia nothing less than her very best. Laxia drew one quiet breath and allowed the playful smile to return.

“You asked for my best, did you not?”

Her free hand settled gently over the one clutching her forearm. For a moment, the touch almost seemed comforting. Then Laxia’s slender fingers closed firmly around Bandita’s wrist. She began peeling Bandita’s hand away from her arm, attempting to draw the luchadora’s right arm behind her back. At the same time, Laxia tightened her thighs around the trapped left leg and shifted the arm beneath Bandita’s chin farther across the side of her face. She was attempting to transition the STF into an arm-trap variation. If completed, Bandita’s injured left knee and ankle would remain twisted between Laxia’s thighs. Her right arm would be folded and restrained behind her back, while her face and jaw were drawn deeper into the crossface. One leg, one arm. Her neck and lower back as well. Laxia was stripping freedom from the agile luchadora one piece at a time, as though completing an intricate knot with effortless grace.

“Were you planning to push me away with that hand?” Her warm breath brushed Bandita’s ear once more. “How unfortunate.” Laxia glanced toward the luchadora’s remaining hand, still free against the mat. “I have left you one, chiquita.” She gradually increased the pressure through her arm and thighs, attempting to draw Bandita’s face and upper body farther backward. Laxia leaned closer, lowering her voice until it was scarcely more than a breath against Bandita’s ear.

“You may need it shortly.....”

The referee lowered herself beside them to inspect Bandita’s condition. Laxia noticed the movement from the corner of her eye, and her smile deepened by the smallest degree. The desire to see more of the emotion hidden behind that mask. The pride that demanded she return the same wholehearted effort Bandita had given her. And the wish to decide for herself when this fiercely contested dance would finally end. All of it came together, lending fresh resolve to the arm locked around Bandita’s face. “Now then……” Laxia whispered softly enough for Bandita alone to hear. “Give up……?”