What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

Drake had enough personal awareness to feel her hands on his rear before kicking her off, so when he sits up and spots her making those gestures, he's so sure what she was up to. He squints ever-so-accusingly... which vanishes in a blink when she uses the word 'lick'. Really? That he didn't see coming. He's gotta check himself out in the mirror more. And though she may be a fiend, she's downright adorable about it. It earns a definite smile, despite his attempts to subdue it.

"I've got somethin' more fun in mind..."

But the spunky model doesn't stay down long. He springs back up to his feet and closes in on her, intent on grabbing her where she sat by the inner thigh and shoulder. This would require some definite effort to hoist her bodily into the air across his chest, but has that added benefit of flexing his body quite close to hers.

Irene tried to rise to her feet as soon as Drake went back on the attack, but he managed to hook one arm between her legs, grasping her thigh as the other arm seized her shoulder. Yanked up, Irene found her feet leaving the mat as Drake turned her sideways and secured his hold. Dangling helplessly over the ground, Irene found herself temporarily paralyzed by this helpless state, unable to make herself struggle for fear of being slammed into the canvas. Craning her head up, the girl struggled to get a look at the boy's face, searching his features for a clue as to what he was planning to do with her now that he had her where he wanted her.

Drake's taking his time with her, letting that tension build... while also guiltily enjoying this hold while it lasts. Now that this isn't a serious match with any kind of ramifications, he can appreciate his hand placements. Heck, one of his hands is right there against her backside! It's like copping a feel for free.

When she looks up at him, he only flashes her a playful smile.

And then, abruptly, the teen drops to a knee and slams her spine down across the other, upturned knee! ...Or, well, that's the motion he makes. His knee hits the mat hard enough to make a reverberating *BAM* sound, but the actual impact of her back across the other knee is actually fairly light! But he maintains the hold on her body to keep her arched, his left hand moving to her chin with the right hand slipping in between her thighs, a few fingers deliberately hooking against her center.

When Irene's body started to fly down toward Drake's waiting knee, the girl knew she was in for a world of hurt. The girl cried out as her back collided with his thigh, but Drake wasn't done yet, it seemed. His hands moved to grip her chin and her thighs, pushing them down to lock her in position. Her body was on full display for him: her taut stomach, upturned breasts, and the space between her legs all in easy reach for him. Even though she couldn't see any of it, as Domino's hand pressed against her chin and blocked her gaze, the girl was already quivering with anticipation.

Come to think of it, Irene's current position, spread out over Drake's lap like a dinner platter, reminded her of something. While she waited for him to start working her over, the girl made a random piece of conversation. “Hey, did you know that there are special restaurants in Japan where people eat sushi off of the bodies of naked women?”

It was a really weird piece of trivia to bring up, but the science girl's flirtatious spar with Drake was driving her mind to weird places. “If you'd gotten any food at the cafe, you could've turned me into a dinner tray right now. Though maybe I just don't need food on me to look appetizing to you,” she remarked with a flirtatious eyebrow raise. Both of her arms grasped the hand that was holding her head, but the girl was too disoriented to really concentrate on prying Drake's powerful arms off of her, leaving her at his mercy for the moment.

"If I didn't know any better," mentions Drake, "I'd think you were trying to entice me..."

While he's keeping her body arched down, he isn't adding any pressure or strain to the hold. It's likely uncomfortable, unless she's a yoga enthusiast, but leaps and bounds away from the kind of torture the raven-haired teen is capable of inflicting.

Her hips make the first tantalizing target, though, for what he does happen to have in mind. With his fingers already hooked between her legs, he begins to stroke a couple of them up and down, working them against her sensitive, completely vulnerable region. He slides his balancing knee back to better deepen his posture without toppling or dropping her, and leans in to begin nuzzling against her taut, feminine abdominals.

It was definitely apparent that Irene was tempting Drake to indulge some erotica while he had her good and trapped, so she didn't grace his comment with a reply. Irene closed her eyes and took a deep breath as a couple of Drake's digits started exploring the valley between her thighs, simultaneously dipping his head down to tease her stomach by rubbing his facial features over it. The man was doing his level best to arouse her even though her black gym shorts and bra were still protecting her. Still, it was working, and the girl went slack in his grip as he worked her over.

“Oh, be gentle with me, Dom,” Irene pleaded as her body twitched in his grasp. The girl wasn't being serious, as she wasn't in nearly as much pain or discomfort as, say, the Sterling Stretch that had beaten her in their proper match. There was some part of her that loved playing the damsel in distress, however, and she was having fun playing into it with her false cries for mercy.

Drake grins a little as she pleas for some mercy. He didn't take her seriously. He wasn't exactly being rough with her. At least, not by his standards. But he can't help but try to tease her a little while nuzzling into her stomach. As his lips pass over her skin, he teases his tongue against her bellybutton. An all around different feeling from having someone probe your ear with a tongue, he'd suspect!

His fingers begin moving faster, deeper, starting to explore her despite the cloth covering her hips. His head lifts, the hand under her chin starting to push just a little to arch her tighter. "Startin' to beg already, are you?," he teases.

Try as she might, Irene couldn't stop herself from giggling uncontrollably when Drake invaded her belly button with that slick, sneaky tongue of his. The girl was madly ticklish, and whether he knew it or not, he was doing a pretty good job of making her nerves flare up. Her belly gyrated up and down, contracting and expanding in a futile effort to interfere with his tongue's feathery touches.

“Don't get full of yourself, fashion model. I can take the pain you dish out...ugh,” Irene groaned as Drake stretched her a little more harshly, as if to accept her challenge. Blushing from embarrassment, Irene tried to look into his eyes to admit to him: “I just wanted to tempt you to get a little more...sensual with me. I hate to admit it, but the most fun I have with you is when you've got me in your clutches with something like this, slowly working me over to sap my strength, until I'm just...putty in your hands.”

Irene's blush got worse, with her entire face heating up and turning a shade of crimson, and not just from the blood rushing to her head. The novice competitor was becoming increasingly subconscious about her submissive character, as it seemed to undermine the entire point of being a competitive fighter. Frowning, the girl would gaze up at Drake as best she could, with a genuinely somber expression. She was self conscious and afraid that he would grow bored with her if she didn't put up a good fight, but she just loved letting go every once in awhile. The girl wanted to mention her conflict of interest to Drake, to ask him how he felt, but she couldn't get up the guts to ask him.

All these mood swings and bouts of self-doubt over a romantic relationship that probably wouldn't survive anyway. Love was such a difficult emotion to contend with.

Drake can't help but laugh when she laughs. It's infectious! And he's finally letting go of the doomcloud lingering on the horizon of their relationship. His mind is occupied with the here and now, the fun they're sharing, this... very new sort of wrestling they're trying out.

But then he catches that look in her eye. His mirth pulls back considerably, until he's just gazing back at her. Did he go too far? Is he hurting her? What was that face for? Starting to feel a bit nervous, he loosens up on the hold, his fingers no longer teasing between her legs, the hand moving to her thigh. "Y'okay? Did that hurt?" Of course it hurt, it was supposed to. But that's not quite what he meant. "Do you need a break?" Is he doing it wrong? This is the closest to a full hentai match he's ever, and likely will ever get. He has no idea what he's doing.

“Huh? Oh, no no nonono...” Irene uttered, waving her arms in a sort of distressed gesture. She hadn't realized that Drake picked up on her sudden case of the blues. “No, you didn't do anything wrong, Drake. The way you've been fighting is pretty enjoyable.”

That was an understatement; the fact was that Irene was really having fun here. The damp spot slowly staining her black shorts would attest to that. The girl realized that she would need to be a little bit direct and upfront with Dom, so despite her weird positioning over his knee, Irene took the time to share her problem.

“Drake, is it pathetic that I like it when you dominate me like this? During the times that I've fought you, I've realized that I most enjoy it when you get complete control over me. I enjoy being on the losing end of our fights even more than being on the winning end. Admitting that makes me sound like some kind of lame jobber wrestler, and...I was afraid that you would judge me harshly for holding back in this spar. So...is it okay if I just wanted you to steamroll me for a bit, so to speak? Would you think less of me if I just...let go and let you have your way with me?”

Irene was laying down some heavy and complicated questions for Drake to chew over, issues of control and relationship dynamics. Hopefully, she had worded everything in a way that would allow him to understand where she was coming from.