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.