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

[Letta]

Laxia lay motionless upon the mat. Even when Bandita pushed at her shoulder and hip to roll her squarely onto her back, she showed no sign of noticing. Her eyelids did not stir, and only faint, hurried breaths passed between her parted lips. When Bandita cast both arms above her head, Laxia’s hands dropped without resistance. The position drew her body long and taut, accentuating the graceful line from her shoulders through her narrow waist and hips. Her dignified beauty remained, but she no longer had the strength to protect it. Bandita brought herself over her and slowly lowered her exposed abdomen against Laxia’s. Trained muscle met trained muscle once again, sweat-warmed skin settling together without a gap. Every labored inhale pressed their stomachs together; every exhale let them sink back into the shared warmth. With Laxia’s arms stretched high overhead, Bandita held her down using nothing but the contact of their abdomens.

A pin that seemed to require no firmer restraint. After spending the match reading one another through their bodies, deciding it through that same point of contact seemed to complete the final image Bandita wanted. But the unconscious Laxia could neither understand its meaning nor push her away. The referee dropped beside them and raised one hand. At that exact moment, Bandita arched her back, separating their joined abdomens. Ignoring the referee’s bewilderment, she released the pin and repositioned herself. This time, a little lower. Her knees guided Laxia’s strengthless legs apart, allowing one thigh to settle between them. Then Bandita lowered her hips into deep contact with Laxia’s own. A slow, deliberate friction passed between skin and wrestling attire. Like a spark dropped into the fading darkness of her consciousness, the sensation drew a low moan from Laxia’s lips.

“Uuuh…… nnnh……”

Her eyes remained closed, but the faintest response stirred within her limp body. Bandita slowly lowered herself over Laxia, her taut abdomen settling against Laxia’s belly until their navels met. Each exhausted breath pushed their muscles apart before letting them sink together again in the damp warmth. At first, Laxia understood only scattered sensations, pressure in the darkness, heat, another body moving with her breath. Then soft breasts pressed against her own, carrying the rapid beat of Bandita’s heart into her chest. Laxia’s eyelids trembled faintly. She still could not open them, but she could feel Bandita breathing with her.

The weight above her carried exhausted tremors, a racing heartbeat, and a determination to hold onto this moment. Bandita was not merely pinning her; she was sharing her warmth, breath, and spent body with her. Reaching back, she hooked one of Laxia’s legs behind the knee and drew it high, folding the strengthless limb alongside her body. The other remained spread wide, with Bandita’s thigh settled deeply between them. It was a perfectly legal pin, yet their deep contact and Laxia’s helplessly raised limbs gave it a sensual tension beyond the contest itself. Bandita’s thigh brushed along Laxia’s inner thigh. As their hips pressed more firmly together, Laxia’s clouded consciousness sharpened, and a tremor passed through Bandita into their joined hips and abdomens.

“Nnnh……!”

Laxia pressed her trembling lips together. Had her voice not been so dry and spent, a far more embarrassing moan might have escaped. Then every sensation returned at once.. the soft warmth against her chest, ragged breaths moving along her abdomen, the delicate pressure between their hips and thighs, and each tremor passing into Bandita only to return through their contact. Laxia could not move, yet a private current continued spreading through her body. Bandita’s hand descended over her face, carefully brushing damp orange strands from her eyes and cheeks. The vulnerable expression her disheveled hair had barely concealed was exposed beneath her touch. Then Bandita crossed Laxia’s wrists above her head and pinned both beneath one hand.

Only then did Laxia fully understand her position. Both hands restrained high overhead. One leg folded beside her body, the other spread wide. Their chests and abdomens pressed together, their hips deeply joined. She lay beneath Bandita like a princess who had been completely conquered. Helpless. Defenseless. That did not mean the pride and dignity that had always sustained her were gone entirely. But they could no longer conceal everything beneath them. The composure she had maintained so flawlessly as a noblewoman had crumbled in places, and through those openings appeared the vulnerable face of a girl Laxia had never wished anyone to see.

Her face burning, Laxia turned her gaze toward the side of the mat as though trying to hide it. Each ragged breath created the faintest friction between them. The slightest shift of Bandita’s hips sent an electrical sensation through Laxia, and every small spasm it drew from her only deepened their contact, sending another pulse of stimulation back through her. She could neither escape nor hide. She could only remain beneath Bandita and receive it all. Embarrassment. Shame. Defeat and humiliation. Those unfamiliar emotions pulled her gaze lower, until Bandita’s face drew close and her breath-warmed whisper reached Laxia’s ear.

Laxia’s blue eyes widened slightly. The words drew her fading thoughts back to the match. This was, after all, a contest. Had their positions been reversed, she too would have pinned Bandita without hiding her superiority. The harder Bandita had fought, the more proudly Laxia would have wanted to claim the victory. Then Bandita deserved the same. She had earned the right to complete this moment in her own way. Bandita had brought Laxia down with a spectacular technique and, through the resolve that had carried her to the very end, had boldly earned both her acknowledgment and respect. Now she conveyed that sincerity in a heated, provocative, unmistakably Bandita-like fashion, holding the opponent who had given her everything beneath her body, feeling her warmth and heartbeat as she completed the victory, yet still sharing the final moment with her. The blue gaze that had fled toward the mat slowly returned. Embarrassment remained in her flushed cheeks and trembling breath, but another emotion rose above it. The honest respect needed to accept defeat. The referee’s hand struck the mat.

“ONE..!”

The impact reverberated through her back, but Laxia’s body did not move. She could not move. Yet she no longer attempted to escape the moment by turning her eyes away. If she was to lose, she would not deny it with her head turned aside. She would look directly at Bandita until the end and acknowledge her victory. Their eyes met from only inches apart, and Laxia did not look away. The referee’s hand struck the mat again.

“TWO...!!”

The hand signaling the third count rose high. Laxia struggled to part her lips. A voice scarcely louder than breath passed through the narrow space between them.

“Well done...”

There was no resignation in those words. They carried acknowledgment of everything Bandita had shown her throughout the match, along with sincere respect. Laxia did not close her eyes. If this was to be her answer, she wanted to give it with her eyes open until the very end. With regained dignity and warm respect held within her blue gaze, Laxia looked deeply into Bandita’s eyes.

[CyanDimitrik]

Refinement and dignity were the last things on Bandita's mind. Instead, all that consumed her were the moment. This instant. The thrill of the conquest, the extremely physical sensation of pinning Laxia's body down - at every conceivable point. Their eyes meet inches apart, the warm hazel greens pleased to watch those crystal blues. She wanted to watch every moment of this domination play out in Laxia's eyes, to savor her looking back at her as she pinned her in her debut.

Every breath between them washed against each other's mouths, lips parted, panting. Feeling the other girl's heart beating against her filled her with a deep, undeniable craving to connect with her on a level she'd yet to ever experience in her personal life, let alone in the middle of a ring. But maybe it's because it's in the finale of a wrestling match that it's inspiring the desire bordering on craving. Maybe it's a combination of that, and the fact that it's Laxia, the noble, the veritable princess taken from a professional wrestling fantasy and injected into real life; so regal, so elegant, with an undercurrent of warmth and humor. Now brought low beneath her, battered, raw, and conquered.

The sudden count of ONE sends a chill through her, instantly replaced with a burning heat. Her body acts practically on its own, her lower back arching to drag her hips tight against Laxia's. The contact was heated enough without the friction, but with it, the girl's eyes briefly squeezed shut and a breathy, shuddered sigh escapes her lips. It couldn't be called involuntary; she wants that friction. She wants more. And when her eyes open again to look at her, they're searching, seeking - approval, encouragement, submission. Anything to tell her she wants the same thing as her, despite so many indications recently in the match.

Her breathing has picked up pace, chest swelling and relaxing more rapidly against the noble's breasts. The shout of TWO accompanying the reverberation through Laxia's body spurs another tight grind over her, subtle to the fans, but very unsubtle between her and her opponent. There's no hiding what this is; sensuality layered atop the dominance, claiming Laxia's body more fully beneath her. Her breath hitches in her throat, hearing the murmur from the ginger. She nips onto her bottom lip, trying to ease her breathing - but it isn't happening.

They're one beat away from ending the match. Bandita's hips lock hard against Laxia's, bearing firmly into her, a tremble running through her toned body. Abdominals flexing over the ginger's abdominals, the span of bare skin against bare skin, feeling the firmness of her bones beneath her, the softness of her flesh, the tightness of her muscletone supporting her weight over her.

The hand strikes the mat again.

"THREE! Ring it!," shouts the referee, swinging an arm.

The bell sounds off! *DING* *DING* *DING*

Bandita's music begins pumping, and the girl's face suddenly tilts and drops, pressing her lips hungrily to Laxia's. The eyes squeeze shut again, a hard, shuddered breath through the nose breezing against her cheek. The kiss is tight, as dominant as the pin itself, daring to see if the aristocrat felt the same was as her. And in tandem, immediately upon meeting her lips, her body jolts against her in a single, firm grind, stroking her hips against the gap of Laxia's parted legs, her abdominal muscles flexing in a grind over the ginger's battered and beaten belly, breasts pushing hard beneath Laxia's before grinding atop. The arm squeezing her captive leg fiercely to her side, and Bandita's hand presses forcefully over the stacked wrists to keep her pinned.

"Your winner by pinfall!," continues the announcer, undeterred from the obvious kiss happening in the ring. "BAAAANDIITAAAA!"

[Letta]

Even in the brief moments between the referee’s strikes against the mat, countless emotions passed through Laxia. Yet as though finally steadying herself, she whispered softly to Bandita as the luchadora looked down at her. Acknowledgment and respect for Bandita lingered within her blue eyes, along with the faint trace of a private emotion she had yet to name. It was a gaze that refused to flee even from the final moment of her defeat, choosing instead to share it fully with Bandita. But scarcely had the whisper left her lips when Bandita ground her hips firmly against Laxia’s own.

“Ahhhn...!?”

The dignity Laxia had only just recovered shattered at once. Her blue eyes widened, and she pursed her trembling lips to stifle another sound. She had expected Bandita’s brilliant smile, but instead found the luchadora biting her lower lip, watching her with restless uncertainty.. waiting, searching for something. Then Bandita’s hips pressed more deeply into hers. The tremor passing through their joined bodies sent an electric sensation through Laxia, heat and pressure flaring across every point of contact. Her body shuddered, and a primal, sensual moan, one almost impossible to imagine from her was about to escape when Bandita’s lips came down firmly over hers.

“Ahnaahh.... Mmnnnh....!!”

Laxia’s eyes widened. For several moments, she could only stare at Bandita in shock. But as hot breath brushed her cheek and the luchadora’s pounding heart carried through their pressed chests, the tension slowly left her lips. Bandita drove into her again, hips grinding deeper between Laxia’s parted legs. Another current swept through her, drawing her hips faintly upward with the motion. She could not tell whether it was intentional, only that it was not an attempt to push Bandita away. Their bodies pressed closer as sensation consumed what remained of her thoughts, and at last, Laxia’s eyes slowly closed.

Somewhere along the way, she forgot how to resist. She surrendered to the warmth surrounding her... the heartbeat between their chests, the breath mingling through joined lips, the tremors passing through their abdomens and hips. Their sensations intertwined until she could no longer tell which belonged to her and which to Bandita. For that moment, they seemed connected by a single shared sensation. The trembling between them told Laxia this impulse was not hers alone. She could not yet name it, but something passed between them more clearly than words.

“Mmmnnnh....”

Before the overwhelming rush of emotion and sensation, her exhausted body could no longer conceal anything. Both arms remained restrained above her head. One leg was held high while the other stayed spread wide. Bandita’s abs pressed firmly into her stomach, and the luchadora’s smaller, supple breasts pushed and slid against Laxia’s own with each ragged breath. She had been completely subdued. And yet, ironically, Laxia felt a strange sense of freedom within it. Her noble composure. Her fear of exposing herself in defeat. The constant pressure to appear flawless at all times. For that one moment, she could finally set them aside. Being completely held beneath Bandita felt strangely undaunting.

It almost seemed acceptable to reveal everything, her breathing, her racing heart, even the smallest involuntary response of her body. Laxia could not tell how long the heated kiss continued. Even after the victory had been decided, their lips did not part. When Bandita’s hold over her finally loosened, one of Laxia’s arms began to move. At first, the hand slipping free from beneath Bandita’s wrist seemed as though it might push her away. But it did not. Instead, it reached for Bandita’s shoulder. The leg held high gradually lowered as well, moving as though to draw the luchadora closer rather than create distance. Without realizing it, Laxia was beginning to hold Bandita against her, leaning in to deepen the kiss. And then... The announcer’s voice cut sharply through the moment they had created for themselves.

“Your winner by pinfall....! BAAAANDIITAAAA......!!”

The roar shaking the arena. Her entrance music bursting through the speakers. Camera flashes firing without pause. Everything returned to Laxia’s awareness at once. They were in the center of the ring. Thousands of people were watching.

“……!”

Laxia’s eyes flew open. The instant she realized what she had nearly done, she used her newly freed arms to hurriedly push Bandita aside. She immediately rolled onto her stomach and pressed the back of one hand over her hot, damp lips. Then, lying facedown against the mat, she buried her thoroughly crimson face between both palms.

“What was I thinking....??!? I nearly.....”

Had it been possible, she would have gladly disappeared into the canvas beneath her. Fortunately, the arena’s massive screens were already playing Bandita’s victory graphics and highlights from the match. The crowd, too, seemed fully occupied with cheering and chanting the winner’s name. Laxia could only hope that the surrounding commotion had prevented anyone from noticing the private exchange that had unfolded between them in the ring.

[CyanDimitrik]

Every shift of the body beneath her communicated something, something inescapably raw and beyond words. Words weren't needed - there were sounds enough. The heat of the kiss, the fiery passion behind it which urged Bandita into action in the first place, the haze in her mind drunk from both physical exertion, the rush of competition, the thrill of pinning her opponent, everything amplified the torrential feelings already swirling inside her. And as the grip slipped, when the pin was well and truly secured, it didn't need translating: Laxia shared that euphoria.

Whatever this was, it was mutual. It didn't matter that the ginger was pinned down. Or perhaps it did - perhaps that was a part of the thrill for her. It was a part of the thrill for the rogue, to be sure. To exercise a level of dominance and control, to assert herself over a willing competitor like Laxia, who by all rights she'd have thought far above her and her lowly 'entertainer' station. But everything here felt reciprocal, and that made the Latina's heart race.

"Mm'puah!," startles Bandita out of the kiss when she suddenly finds herself shoved off. She hits the mat on her shoulder, staring in a confused daze. And seeing Laxia seem to hide herself in embarrassment, Bandita finds herself with an acute and very unwelcome sense of self-awareness. Her sweaty state, disheveled from wrestling, her body beaten up and sore... and kissing her opponent. Who is a girl.

Her family would be watching.

"O-oh Dios mio..," she whispers, her eyes widening.

Her focus hurriedly switches to Laxia, caught somewhere between wanting to try to assure her it's okay and apologizing. She starts to reach towards her, before the thought impales her mind that touching her again might be the worst choice imaginable right now. So she stops short, hand in the air, fingers trembling.

There's a hard swallow, and she turns over fully onto her knees and left hand, using the right to quickly play out the sign of the cross over herself. Then she pushes herself up to her full height and immediately throws her arms wide, back arched, eyes shut to bask in the cheer and rhythmic thump of her music. She presents herself to the audience in this way for several seconds - what she hopes is long enough for Laxia to start to catch her breath. But then she's turning to her.

Bending at the waist, Bandita offers both hands down to her, trying to encroach them invitingly into her view. They're meant to help the ginger to her feet. Should she get a look at those dazzling blue eyes again, they'll find Bandita's face stricken with regret. "I- I'm so sorry," she says. "I- I don't know what came over me, I've never done something like 'dat!" Seeing Laxia in that state, knowing she was the cause of it, was pure heartbreak. Especially knowing how she felt during her first match with the federation.

"Let's.. show 'dem you're okay. I-it's your debut, don't-.. don't let me ruin it for you."

[Letta]

There stood Bandita, both hands extended toward her. And she was... apologizing. Just as she had during the match, when Laxia had sharply cast her arm aside, Bandita once again wore the wounded look of a scolded puppy. The sight made Laxia’s chest ache, filling her with a heavy sense of guilt. Because... Laxia had wanted it too. She did not want to deny the connection she had felt while pressed against Bandita, nor the emotions that had erupted between them in that instant. She could not dismiss the euphoria that had swept through them as nothing more than a one-sided impulse on Bandita’s part. Bandita must have felt it as well.

The tremors passing between their joined bodies. The moment their breathing and heartbeats became intertwined. Even the fact that, rather than pushing her away, Laxia had nearly pulled her closer. Yet the pride and propriety that had always sustained Laxia were too deeply rooted for her to admit any of it so easily. At times, they felt like stubborn restraints she longed to cast aside. But they were also part of what defined her, part of the very way she carried herself through the world. Pride urged her to retreat behind her composure. But doing so now would leave Bandita believing that she alone had crossed that line. And Laxia knew that was not true.

“It was not yours alone to regret... so stop looking at me like that.”

She turned her gaze aside, forcing a faintly haughty expression onto her face. Even so, she accepted Bandita’s offered hands while pretending to do so reluctantly. The moment their palms met, Laxia felt the faint tremor lingering in Bandita’s fingers. For an instant, she could not tell whether it belonged to the luchadora or to herself. Without another word, she tightened her grip. Using Bandita’s hands for support, Laxia rose slowly, unsteady but determined to stand under her own power.

“I’m fine... And you did not ruin anything.”

Even after reaching her feet, Laxia could not quite bring herself to face Bandita directly. Maintaining her aloof expression, she glanced at the luchadora from the corner of one eye and added in a near-mutter,

“Must I say it again...? You earned my respect.”

The words might have sounded curt. But Laxia still had not released Bandita’s hands. Feeling the lingering tremor against her palms, she answered by pressing them a little more firmly together.