What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

While the talks, Drake leans in a little to scoop his arm behind her shoulders to lift her back and relieve some pressure along her chest and back. He's interested in what she has to say; he can go back to abusing her afterwards, if she likes.

From how it sounds, that's exactly what she'd like. He grins and shakes his head quickly. "No, you just have a kink," he points out. "What would make you a jobber is if you never win! If you can't win! But I know different. You didn't just roll over for me in our match." Though it makes a little more sense why she insisted he make the Sterling Stretch as harsh as he could on her. It wasn't just a matter of pride, was it?

Rather than put her right back into the backbreaker position, Drake pulls the dark-haired girl up to her bare toesies again. His arms slip around her stomach from behind, his hips pressing firmly against her rear. "Yeah. Think I could rough ya up for a while..." And with that as his only warning, the model bridges back to slam the girl's shoulders back against the mat in a German suplex! Following the impact, his body curls over hers to draw her up into position again...

“Sweet!” Irene cheered as Drake lifted her back to her feet and slipped his arms around her waist, embracing her from behind. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn't start thinking I was a pushover...well, except for when I want to be.”

As Irene finished her thought, Drake squeezed her waist more tightly and reared back to lift the girl up and slam her down behind him. “Whoa!” Irene yelped as Drake sent her careening around like some kind of carnival ride. The girl's shoulders and neck hit the mat, stunning her as her body got ragdolled in a heap on the ground. Athletic as ever, Drake gave her no time to recover and rolled over to her, grabbing her to set her up for something else.

Arms still tightly coiled around the girl's toned midsection, Drake pulls her up and ducks his upper-body down to position her awkwardly up along his shoulders. In the end, the dark-haired girl will be resting her ribs along his shoulders, his left hand between her legs with his right hand at her neck to keep her in place.

But for as awkward as the hold is, Drake doesn't maintain it long. He drops back to perform a samoan drop, slamming her squarely onto her back with his head thumping back into her stomach! ...Of course, he's pulling his head up a bit to lessen the impact. But still, it's intended to hurt a bit.

Drake lifted Irene back up, suspending her in the air over his shoulders only to slam her into the mat again. The girl's hair fluttered behind her as she was planted onto her back, hitting the mat fairly hard even though he was holding back a bit. Her body was still hurting from the suplex earlier, and her groan of agony was a little more audible this time. Consequently, she went back to putting up some resistance, pulling her arm forward and driving her elbow back to slam it into the side of Drake's exposed head. She didn't go all out with the blow, since they had agreed not to leave each other with too many bruises, but the girl didn't want to risk letting him slam her again too soon.

Following the impact, Drake starts to turn with the intention to pin her down. But her elbow bonks him on the head, dissuading him from carrying on with it. So instead, the teen scrambles to his feet and peers down at her.

This isn't a real match. They're screwing around. There's no way he would just pop this off under normal circumstances when she isn't weakened enough, but screw it. If she reverses it, she reverses it!

Drake hurries back along the mat, straining the ropes against his back. He then slingshots forward, sneakers thudding along the canvas until he reaches her. At that point, Drake hops into the air in a curled ball. His arms and legs then stretch out, pulling his toned body taut in the air as he aims to slam his sleek abdominals across her stomach in a standing frog splash!

Oh, hell no!

Irene's eyes went wide as Drake charged toward her, no doubt intent on doing something flashy and brutal to her poor little body. That was a bit of an exaggeration, but the girl still took action quickly to mitigate the damage of whatever he was about to do. As Drake launched himself toward her, Irene rolled her own body forward, bent down, and tucked her head and arms beneath her legs and torso, going into a fetal position of sorts. It would've looked pathetic to an outside observer, but Irene wasn't in a position to leap out of the way, and was fairly certain that this strategy would work well. It would wind up distributing the impact across her entire body when he landed on her, saving any individual parts from excess harm. Plus, it meant that Drake was about to have a much harder landing, since Irene had folded herself into a lump instead of being laid out on the mat.

Of course, if Drake realized what she was doing and managed to stop himself before he hit her, the girl would wind up looking pretty stupid, but that was a chance she was willing to take. After all, there was no audience here to see this.

But he doesn't!

Domino bounds into the air, stretches his body taut, and slams his firm abs across her curled back! "UNGF!" He folds over her, eyes bugged out from the impact, before sloowwly sliding over her shoulders and head to lie flat on the mat. He exhales a little groan, one hand pawing over his midsection. "Guh... frickin'... turtle...," he chides. He swats a hand at her head, little more than whapping the girl's long hair about.

And while he's aching now, he is curious to see if she goes for the pin or what...

“Hah!” Irene gave a cheer, feeling Dom hit her and hearing his groans of pain. As soon as he rolled off of her, Irene uncurled herself, stretching a bit to reliever herself of the discomfort she had endured as a result of Drake's frog splash. Then, standing over him facing towards his upper half, Irene would try to grab both of his legs and lift them up. If she managed to get a hold of them, Irene would step forward and fall down onto his chest, placing one of his legs under the crook of each arm to fold him into a reverse matchbook pin. Assuming he didn't manage to buck her off too quickly, the girl would even scoot slowly forward, moving further up his body and bending his legs more uncomfortably.

"Nnf!," grunts the model as she drops her weight atop him. His legs are held under her arms, his hands moving to set to her bare legs, running his fingers along her smooth skin, appreciating the fact that she shaves~...

"Comfy?," he asks before a soft laugh bubbles out. He begins squirming on the mat, his legs tensing under her arms to gradually attempt sliding her back again. And if she isn't careful, he might drag her lightweight body back enough to land her back against the mat and reverse the pin onto her! "Because I... still plan on being on top!"

“Very comfy,” Irene confirmed as she glanced down at Dom with a sultry gaze. She wigged her hips a little further up, over his shoulders, hoping to work herself into a nice facesit position. Alas, just when she was about to reach Drake's face, he started tensing up his legs to pull her back again. His thigh and calf muscles were too strong for Irene to keep under control, but she made the mistake of attempting to keep her hold on them anyway. As Drake pushed back more vigorously, Irene gradually lost her balance until the model succeeded in unfurling her from her current position. Irene wound up on her back, arms pinned underneath Drake's legs, with her legs and hindquarters draped loosely over his body.

“I let you do that,” the girl blurted out immediately as she kicked around with her legs, not really sure how to use them to get her arms free. Truth was, Irene had just been distracted by the prospect of rubbing herself all over Drake's face, and he had managed to get the better of her, leaving her vulnerable once again.