A Diva Down in the Dumps

[Weonna]

That kiss was too nice. Way too soft. It was messing with her composure, and Rianne hated losing control of even a single moment. She needed to shift gears, to stop being the gentle comforter and get back to being the woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

Pulling her face away from his, she let a wicked smirk spread across her lips. She didn't move off him, though. Instead, she shifted her weight, letting her legs rest on either side of his waist. She hovered there for a second, staring down at him with bright blue eyes, and then she slowly lowered herself.

She didn't sit down. She pressed down.

The friction was immediate. She ground her arse cheeks against the hard ridge of his bulge, feeling the damp heat of her own excitement rubbing against the fabric of their gear. She let out a breathless little laugh, tilting her hips to grind against him harder, deliberately teasing him.

"Look at you,"

she panted softly, her voice dropping an octave as she leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear.

"You're all hard and ready, aren't you, you prat? Tell me... are you liking this 'terrible fate' of mine, or are you actually begging for it?"

She gave him another deliberate grind, sitting back on him a little more firmly, enjoying the way his fingers tightened on her hips. She wasn't playing games anymore. Tonight, she was going to take exactly what she wanted.

[CyanDimitrik]

Domino - or perhaps better Drake now - wasn't sure where things were going. Just that he liked it. This was a side of Rianne that seemed more natural, more true to the girl behind closed doors. Maybe closer to her heart, to someone who yearned for an actual connection. Less the defensive prickliness and performance to cameras, for opponents. Just someone who wanted to be seen, appreciated, desired for more than the stage-diva. It's something he could relate to, in his own way. Maybe that was a part of the complexity of being a model. People idolize you, even idealize you, but they don't really know you. You're a commodity. Something easily replaced the moment you lose your edge.

The kiss ends, and Drake's eyes focus on her face again. His hands travel along her legs, down to the bare thighs appreciatively to pause as she adjusts herself. Then, suddenly, she's pressing downwards in a forceful, deliberate way that causes his eyes to widen and take a sudden breath. Everything tightens a little more, and she would undoubtedly feel it. "Nh.."

Then another grind, and his eyes drift shut briefly. His hips push upwards, seeking that sweet spot between her thighs again, but she remains in control. Every point of friction, every grind, it causes everything to tense a little further. When she sits back down again, his hands immediately move to her hips. It takes considerable willpower to not try to seize control and slide her to exactly where he wants her, having to remind himself...

"Tonight's.. about you..," he says, opening his eyes again to look up at her. "..I can take this 'terrible fate' of yours every.. single night.. you'n me.. my place.. or your place.." The hands lift a little higher, his palms finding the warm skin of her waist. "..but I wanna see you.. take what you want.."

[Weonna]

His words did something to her...it fired her up in a way that made her blood hum with heat. She wasn't about to disappoint him, not when he was finally giving her the green light to be exactly what she wanted to be.

"Right then,"

she muttered, sliding her legs off him to sit up fully on the edge of the couch. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of her gear bottoms and peeled them down, tossing them aside carelessly onto the floor. She couldn't help a smirk as she looked down at him, still pinned beneath her, his eyes fixed on her with that quiet intensity.

She reached down, her fingers trembling just a fraction as she hooked into his trunks.

"You're taking your time, aren't you? You bloody sod."

With a decisive tug, she pulled them down, freeing him completely. She shifted her position, hovering over him, her hips aligned perfectly. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, before she began to lower herself.

It was slow. agonizingly slow. She gasped as she started to take him in, her eyes squeezing shut and her head falling back slightly. The stretch was intense, a delicious fullness that made her insides flutter.

"Oh!~... fuck...!"

she breathed out, a long, shuddering moan escaping her lips as she sank down further, taking him inch by inch. Her hands gripped his shoulders hard, her nails digging into his skin.

"Fucksake... you're huge..."

She stilled for a moment, adjusting to the sensation, before she let out a soft, breathless laugh.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Letting me do all the work~"

[CyanDimitrik]

Drake wasn't sure what he was expecting, really. A part of him thought she was going to go feral, aggressive. Even violent. Another part of him though she might turn defensive and insist she wouldn't be giving him what he wants, even if what he wanted was for her to have what she wants. But the idea that it would be so deliberate, so intensely quiet and focused, had never occurred to him. This was different. A different Rianne. A Rianne who seemed more true to herself. More in the open. Less guarded.

He knows what she's doing when her weight shifts, but Drake remains lying back. Staring upwards, waiting. Dwelling on it. Reflecting on this moment. But just as quickly as it began, he feels Rianne's fingertips hooking his trunks. And her words. ..he probably should've been more pro-active.

His hips raise, making the transition easier - not to mention a non-verbal encouragement. A silent way to let her know that he's on the same page, and yes, he's very much in the mood for her. That much is left without any question when he's fully revealed. But Rianne moves quickly to position herself. His gaze quickly lids over, head tipping back as the sensations begin overriding.

"Mnh..," is all he offers at first. His fingertips press to her thighs, soon flowing to his palms brushing upwards to her hips. "Let's be real..," he whispers. "..you... pinning me.. like this.. you wouldn't have it any other way...," he chides.

[Weonna]

Rianne didn't stay still. The second she was fully seated, the heat and fullness seized control of her. She pulled her hips up, her inner muscles clenching instinctively around him, and slammed herself back down. Hard.

"Oh... fuuuuck... "

She gasped, her head falling back, exposing her throat to the air. She didn't stop there. She began to bounce, a fast, desperate rhythm that had her moving up and down his length with reckless abandon. Her hips slapped against his skin, the sound echoing in the quiet lounge, wet and obscene.

"That's it... baby... yesss... "

She moaned, a long, throaty sound that was embarrassingly loud. She couldn't help it; the friction was too good, the sensation too overwhelming. She looked down at him through hooded eyes, her blonde hair sticking to her damp forehead.


She rode him harder, her fingers digging into his chest as she sought that perfect angle.

"Don't... don't you dare... look away~... "

[CyanDimitrik]

Her hips pump, stroking hard and fast along his length. Build-up wasn't needed, it seemed. Not between these two. Not with their history, not with their tension. His hands have immediately seized to her waist, every downwards drop is met with a firm pull, his hips buck upwards to meet her with a firm, fevered intensity. The lock is mutual - her fingers digging into his chest, pressing into his pectorals. His fingers clutch and pull at her hips needily, eager each time to full her full, tight warmth surrounding him with every pass.

Panting now, not out of exhaustion or exertion, but simply from heat. When she looks down at him, she'll find his gaze readily matched to hers - purples to blues, every pass causing a flexing tightening of his muscled frame.

"Not.. missing.. this," he replies back to her. As if he would look away. As if he'd lose his chance to see Rianne in this state. Caught somewhere between euphoric bliss, a sincere sort of affection, and her own craving to dominate and be on top. It's possibly the best gift he could give her in this moment, when she so recently tasted defeat. Put her on top of the world. Make her know she's wanted. That she's lost exactly zero value, at least to one person.

"Come on, baby...," he urges. "Take what you want.."

[Weonna]

She didn't slow down. The friction was too good to stop. She drove herself down onto him, harder and faster, her hips slapping against his skin with a wet, obscene sound that filled the lounge. Her blonde hair tumbled down, obscuring her face for a moment before she pushed it back, her eyes locked on his.

She reached down, her hands gripping his shoulders as she met his upward thrusts, riding him with a wild abandon that she hadn't shown in a long time.

Drake’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her down to meet him, and she threw her head back, a loud cry tearing from her throat. The sensation built inside her, coiling tight and hot, a wave of pure ecstasy that washed over her senses. Her inner walls spasmed, clamping down around him rhythmically as she rode him through the peak.

"Oh... fuuuck..."

She shuddered violently, her body trembling as the pleasure crashed over her. She slowed her movements slightly, her breathing becoming heavy and labored, her chest heaving against his. She collapsed forward slightly, resting her forehead on his shoulder, her body still humming with the aftershocks.

"Fuckin hell..."

she panted, her voice barely a whisper as she stared down at him, her eyes wide and glassy. She was still sitting on him, still connected, his warmth filling her completely.

"That was... incredible..."

[CyanDimitrik]

Wild and free Rianne. It's an incredible thing to see her completely abandoned to sensation and ecstasy. She need not worry about him looking away from her - he couldn't possibly take his eyes off of her. The aggressive way she went at him, especially as she leaned forward to press her hands to his shoulders as if pinning him again, has his own pace hastening and tensions escalating.

He can feel her tightening around him, he can feel the heat of her about to burst, the way her muscles clench. Jaw firmed, Drake slams his hips into hers with each push, right up until she begins to climax over him. His hips lower, sliding himself half free of her before sharply, forcefully bucking upwards into her again against the tightness, enough to send him over the edge. She's flooded as he peaks inside her, pulse after pulse of heat rushing deep within her.

Every breath is shuddered, each new pulse coming with a hard quake. Even as she lays herself forward over him, his hips roll slowly down and push up against, letting himself ride out his own release in the aftershocks. Her head rests on his shoulder, and his turns to nuzzle through the wet blonde hair messily clinging to her face.

He can't escape the irony of the two of them together. They started out hating each other, it seemed. Then one night in the ring, and there was an animalistic attraction between them that couldn't be denied. And now... now they're not even wrestling, and they're making love. Because he saw her unhappy and wanted to change that. Because he cared that she didn't feel bad.

He kisses her cheek first, then her forehead, if he can find the angle.

"You're.. incredible," he breathes back to her, as if correcting.

The hands at her hips slide further, wrapping his arms around her waist. He makes no move to disconnect himself from her, living in and under her warmth.

"..Rianne," he says quietly, softly. Not having anything more to add, nothing more to say, no point to be made. He just wanted to taste her name on his lips in this moment.