What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

When Irene's back hits the mat, Drake eagerly sits up to slide her lower half down between his legs. Thus, her legs rest split against his lap. He grabs for her legs to keep them from kicking her away, tucking her shins beneath his arms. He technically has her in a pinning position, his hips pressed firmly between her legs.

"'Course ya did," he coos at her. "But now you're here..." He scoots a little, pressing his hips tighter to hers - a distinct firmness easily felt through his workout shorts. "..but I don't wanna pin you down just yet. You wanted to be steamrolled..."

He pushes his right thigh against her hip and twists to the left, attempting to roll them over. If he can manage to work them over, Irene will find herself resting on her chest, with Domino over her on his knees, her legs trapped under his arms. And the moment he leans back, she's bound to realize she's been pulled into a full boston crab!

"Remember!," he calls over his shoulder. "No tapouts!"

Irene turned a light shade of crimson when she felt Drake's excitement pressed between their two bodies. After this, if neither of them was too tired, she would have to see if he was in the mood to take her back to his dorm room for...a more mature kind of wrestling.

In the meantime, however, Drake twisted her onto her stomach, with her breasts mashed uncomfortably into the canvas. That was the least of her worries, however, as Drake secured her legs under his arms and started pulling back on them, bending her spine at a sharp angle. Drake had shown Irene how capable he was of working a submission hold before, and she found herself starting to get nervous even before he starting cranking up the pressure.

“Remember, pretty boy, the match isn't over until the loser has given up trying to escape the pin, so don't think I'll make it easy for you,” Irene pouted, putting on a defiant act. However, as Drake threatened to bend the girl in half, her breathing became rapid and shallow, and she outright whimpered a bit as he reminded her that he wouldn't let her tap out. Would he expect her to beg for mercy? Not that she would refuse, of course...

Hearing her defiance spurs Drake to lean back a little further, ratcheting up the pressure on her spine. "I'm countin' on that..." His legs shift, steadily easing back further and further, until her stomach is vertical and most of her weight rests against her breasts. "...But I don't wanna break you..." He leans back a little further, trying to wrench a little more whimpering out of her before suddenly releasing the hold.

"...Not with that, anyway!"

He's still trying to keep their match kind of soft. Otherwise, he might have gunned for the submission there! Or at least held onto it long enough to really work the pain along her back.

The teen dismounts her to grab her by the shoulders to haul her up to her feet again. And once she's standing, he takes a moment to assess her condition and how well she's standing on her own.

The farther back Drake reclined himself, the harder it got for her to pretend that nothing was wrong. The pain shot through her back like a knife was being repeatedly plunged into it, and the sick feeling she had in her stomach as Drake forced her soft orbs to bear more and more weight was getting unbearable. If he had been aiming to get a submission with this hold, this might have been the end of the fight for her, and as he drove her to the breaking point, the girl let him know that she was feeling desparate. “You're k...killing me, Dom,” she moaned softly, short of breath, “oh god, it hurts...”

As Irene was about to consider begging, her mind suddenly recalled one of the moments they'd shared during their original match together – the first moment of tenderness they'd had, in fact. It was when Drake had advised her to relax in his camel clutch hold to minimize the pain she'd felt. Inspired by the memory, Irene tried to do the same thing again, letting her body go slack as Drake contorted her further. It didn't help too much with her spine already hurting so badly, but it did relieve her sense of panic a bit...

Eventually, Drake decided to release her instead of working his hold any more. Irene's legs thumped back down onto the canvas as she laid there, unwilling to move as the pain in her spine started to recede. When Drake forced her back to her feet, the girl wouldn't have too much trouble standing, although her soreness was making it hard for her to think straight.

“Don't look so concerned, you dope,” Irene muttered dismissively, “I'm just a little tired. I'd kick you in the junk for that submission you just did, but it hurt your feelings last time, so I won't.”

Irene realized how cranky she sounded, and felt some remorse. She put on a friendly smile as she backed up, waiting for Drake to come at her again. It was a spar, after all, and the girl could hardly be angry at him for making it exciting.

He's killing her? He doesn't think he was going that hard, so he thinks she's being a little dramatic. And for whatever reason, that adds a little extra spice to the spar. But there's a chance he was letting the moment get to him, and wasn't being as careful as he should be.

It didn't matter, once he'd let her go. She's standing, she's giving him sass, and he has to smile wryly at her. "Hurt more than my feelings, believe that..." She's backing away, gaining some distance on him. Drake doesn't want her getting too far, though. He moves in after her and aims a light, quick punch for her stomach, hoping to spur her to bend over.

“Oh, I believe it,” Irene said with a smirk, “but don't worry, I'll leave them alone, like I said. Depending on whether or not you want to spend...quality time in your dorm after this, you might need your bits in working order.”

Irene had gone into that statement hoping to subtly check whether or not he wanted some degree of coitus to ensue once they were back at his dorm. Once she said it out loud, however, she realized that the “subtle” part had gotten left out. Actually, her statement had sounded downright desperate, and the girl put a palm to her face in embarrassment. Maybe she shouldn't have, however, because it stopped her from seeing Drake's fist as it collided with her stomach, causing her to double over and wrap her arms around his midsection for support. “Yeah, if someone had made that creepy proposition to me, I would punch them too.”

And Drake laughs.

"Hahah! Staahhp! I can't be all rough with you if you keep acting cute!," he fusses. He draws in a deep breath and exhales it again quickly to try and settle himself back down in time to capitalize on this opportunity. Because it was a golden one, you see.

He reaches for her, attempting to hoist her off her feet again, but not in the ways that he had before. No, this time he'll attempt to swing her body around to position her upside-down facing him. With his arms locking around her waist, she'll find her breasts pressed into his abs, his pecs pressed into her bare stomach, his face at her hips, and her delicate face against his.

"Maybe this'll settle your mind a little...," he murmurs to her before starting to nuzzle against her vulnerable, floating hips, maintaining that belly-to-belly piledriver position.

Irene's voice wavered between startled yelling and laughing as Drake lifted the girl up and flipped her horizon around 180 degrees. The girl closed her eyes and shuttered a bit, expecting to be slammed into the mat head-first.

That didn't happen, however, and Irene opened her eyes to see an extreme close-up of Drake's crotch – a sight that she really didn't need to see, but there it was, close enough for her to smell his hormones. Her legs wobbled around in the air as she started to get dizzy in the position Dom had her locked in, but his arms were fastened around her waist good and tight, and it seemed that he was planning to build up some anticipation while he had her trapped. The girl didn't dare struggle in his grasp, fearing that he would drop her. Instead, the girl simply wrapped her arms around his waist for support, locking her hands together behind him.

Suddenly, Irene twitched a bit as she felt the boy's nose digging shamelessly into her womanhood, tickling her through the gym shorts she was wearing. “You cheeky little...stop that!” Irene squealed as he continued to stir her up. If he kept this up for very long, he was gonna start sensing the presence of some moisture buildup between her legs, and it wasn't sweat. “This is definitely not going to settle my mind!”

Drake continues nuzzling her as she wraps her arms around him. He turns to march to the center of the ring, nice and distant from the ropes, and holding her utterly helpless in his arms. "That's not quite what I meant by 'settled'. I'd rather get you all worked up, by that definition." He nuzzles in a little more roughly. He can tell it's working. He can feel that it's working, and he's loving the physical reaction it's firing off in her. His own heart is pounding against her abdomen, his breathing hastened.

His face draws back with a smirk. "How is it? Mind settled yet~?"

Irene gripped Drake's waist a little more tightly as he walked away from the ropes, denying her any chance for freedom as he continued to torment her. Her heart was beating hard against his body, and not just because she was afraid of getting plunged into the mat again. No, the sensation of his snout being dragged back and forth across her slit was driving her insane, especially when combined with the sense of delirium being caused by the blood rushing to her head.

“F-f-for someone who never did any hentai matches, I h-have to admit you're doing pretty g-good with just your face there,” Irene whispered in between her soft sighs. Even though he had her upside down, the girl was getting really comfortable in his grasp. “Just imagine what you could be doing if my shorts weren't still...aaahhh!” Irene was cut short as a cold, tingling sensation suddenly ran down her sex, agitating and even frightening her. Then a warm sensation bathed her waistline, and then another cold one. What on Earth was going on?

It took her a moment to figure it out: thanks to Drake's efforts thus far, Irene's sex was starting to leak anticipatory fluids, which soaked through and stained her shorts. Every time he breathed, every time he spoke, a puff of air would travel to or from his mouth, drawing a sudden air current over her genitalia. With the chill factor from her dampened mound, the temperatures she was feeling around there were unbearable. Warming sensations as he exhaled, followed by a frigid shock as he drew more cool air in through his nose and mouth. It was a small detail, and Drake probably hadn't noticed the effect it was having. He would soon, however, as Irene whimpered or moaned in rhythm with his breathing.