Paying Your Bar Tab

[hamish1024]

Storm pursed her lips slightly and blushed as Morrigan praised her face sitting skills. It wasn’t that the subject embarrassed her per se, she just wasn’t used to receiving compliments so directly like that.

“Well, I have been trying to use a few more smothers in my matches,” she explained. “Though the idea there is that the victim is intimidated by it, not necessarily enjoying it!”

She gave a thoughtful sigh as she weighed up Morrigan’s offer of domme work. To her own surprise, she didn’t reject it outright. Her partner Lyssa had been eagerly branching out into the sadism business, and making decent money after her first few sessions, from the sounds of it. She wasn’t quite sure she could ever see herself in leather, though.

“Thanks, but I’m focusing on my wrestling for now. If I’m gonna be working someone over, it’s more likely that they crossed me in the ring, rather than me wanting a pay check. Being feared is a fun angle to play, and I want more of it,” Storm purred. It was true, being a heel was one thing, but the reception she’d gotten after dragging Wendy Winston backstage for the express purpose of torturing her was something else. Still, working on her domme skills wouldn’t hurt, on that front.

Storm wriggled into her own grimy, tear-ridden top. It felt weird to be putting on dirty clothes, the stale sweat and staler booze uncomfortable on her skin, but it was only to protect her modesty whilst they trudged to the LAW showers, so she could suck it up.

“Ooh, itching for a rematch, huh? Maybe need to visit the doctors sooner rather than later, cos I’m thinking you need your head checked. But I’ll happily make the score two-nil if you insist!” Storm was grinning playfully as she approached the door, and gave Morrigan’s ass a firm but affectionate spank as she moved past to exit this delicious den of debauchery. She gave the dimly-lit, messily disorganised bedroom a final glance over her shoulder, clearly reminiscing over the raunchy delights of the past few hours. “Wish more of my nights in Japan were that fun,” she sighed.

“Right, let’s hit the showers. Maybe we can talk terms on that rematch, but I’m not sure they’ll let us do another barroom brawl after the damage you did to that place!”

Leaving the torrid, upturned bedroom squarely in the category of ‘someone else’s problem’, Storm led the way along the LAW corridors, beelining for the gym where their spare lockers, and a promised shared shower, awaited.

[BlackAkuma]

”You’re cute when you blush.”

The Morrigan didn’t mean it as some affectionate compliment, just a quick observation of the reality sitting before, but damned if it wasn’t true, and damned if it didn’t come out sounding softer than she meant it. Softer by her standards, anyway. It was true, though. Despite this woman beating her within an inch of her life less than twelve hours ago, there was a gentleness to her, one she wagered rarely got shown to people. She was just…cute. And Morrigan didn’t normally care for ‘cute’, but here, it worked.

”Hm. Offer’s on the table, if you ever want it.” Fully dressed now, she idly watched Storm dress, taking in the full picture as she squeezed back into it.

She was still staring - albeit a little more covertly- as Storm stood and gave her a spank on the way, taking the lead and taunting her along the way. Chuckling, Morrigan took a deep breath, savored that heady scent one last time, and followed right behind her.

The next hour or so flew by. Of course, there was their shared time in the shower, a mix of lazy lovemaking and a genuine effort to get each other clean. With their bodies still aching, they needed the help, working in tandem to cover the spots the other couldn't quite reach. A kiss there, a peck there, some holding, a little humping, a little biting…

Good stuff.

They couldn't get too wild, but it was enough to tide them over for the time being, and soon enough they got the job done. Luckily for them, a swanky bistro nearby, with a name Morrigan couldn't properly pronounce, was still serving breakfast. Not that swanky was her style, but it would do.

The Morrigan found herself gazing at the menu, idly thumbing through the options as she leaned back in the chair. She’d slipped into a Metallica t-shirt, with torn sleeves - always had to show off the arms, come what may. The waitress was somewhere nearby, whipping up their drinks

”So,” The Morrigan settled into the chair, getting comfortable enough to finally broach a topic that had been nagging her. ”I’m guessing your old man didn’t name you ‘Storm’. Unless he was a damn big X-Men fan.” She propped an elbow on the table and leaned in. ”My name’s Jacqueline. But don’t call me that, Jack’s fine. Or you can stick with the ring name, if you want. It’s no nevermind to me.”

There. That was out. It was easier than she’d imagined.

”Your turn.” She canted her head to the side. ”If you want.”