Amy Poford vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Lover's Spat

The past two weeks had been a rough time for Amy, and Army was kicking himself for not being there when she needed a friend most of all. He and Carmen had taken a short trip back to Puerto Rico for a family reunion, reconnecting with home, hugs all around, trying desperately to ignore cousin Mercedes and her dopey luchadore boyfriend. Genuinely having a fun time, cooling down and relaxing while they bathed in nostaglia. Army had pretty much isolated himself from the AFW, so when he got back and checked in, he was in for a few shocks.

He wanted to have a little talk with Nathan sometime, get a full view on the story and see what was going through the guy's mind. But, for now, he was focused on one thing: cheering Amy up. So he challenged her to a match. A real match.

For most girls, offering to hurt her physically wouldn't be a good way to heal her mentally. Any other girl he'd been with would either laugh it off or dump him on the spot. But Amy was unique. They had a weird little relationship that mixed sex and violence and respect and rivalry, and Army figured the best thing for her was to empty her frustrations out on a willing target.

There was only one problem, though. They'd tried to fight before, in private settings. Twice. Both times, things got a little too hot, and they wound up sweaty, on the floor, with their clothes off and their bodies in an afterglow. Not that Army could really complain - Amy was sexual dynamite, ready to explode. But it meant they were eternally in a tie breaker state, and neither of them were the type to let that stand. Something had to be done, or else they'd probably just end up going at it under the ring in the middle of the match. Which actually sounded pretty kinky, now that Army thought about it...

Fortunately, Amy had a novel solution: they would have sex before the match. Brilliant! So, they found a dressing room about twenty minutes before the match started, locked the door, cleared off the couch, and got down to business.

Army laid on the bottom with Amy on top, one hand running through her hair while the other roamed along her spine. His clothes were scattered all around the room, mixed around with hers, and the lights were on low to help heighten the mood. His tongue was currently having a preliminary match with Amy's, and having  a hard time keeping up with its smaller, more flexible opponent.

In short, Army was having the time of his life, and he was well on his way to an awesome finish. "So," He got in a few quick words between kisses and thrusts. "Am I catching up to that kiwi you dated? I value feedback, really."

Amy found herself thinking a lot about Army during the past two weeks. It was more than just physical longing, though that wasn’t a small part of it. When Nathan’s betrayal shook her, it was Army’s comfort that she craved first. She wanted to get his perspective, get pampered, get made fun of, then get fucked- not in the way that Nathan had fucked her, but in, you know, the fun, literal way. It was a worrisome amount of yearning, like she’d built a dependence on him.

When they’d first met up after his return to Japan, he challenged her to a fight within the first five sentences that they’d exchanged, and she melted. The man knew the way around her heart, and it only further confirmed that Army was someone special. Amy had a rule against getting attached, since it was always her plan to move back to the States after her travels were through, but, despite that, she was falling pretty hard for Army. She found herself wanting to have an Important Talk with him when the opportunity presented itself.

But, the night of their match was not the night to do it. Actually, talking about anything serious was just about the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. She was riding Army on a ratty couch in the first room that was free, bringing their out-of-bed love-making sessions just about even with their in-bed ones. Army was doing his part, too, swimming one hand through her undone hair, and mapping out her back with his other, all while thrusting, sucking, kissing. They worked in perfect harmony, complementing and adjusting for each other’s movements, making her forget her troubles in the way that only Fucking Armando Rodriguez could get her to forget.

As it sometimes happened when she really got into things, her brain unhinged itself from her mouth, freeing up neurons to focus on sensations of pleasure. This gave her dirty talk a wild, stream-of-consciousness quality to it. Unfortunately, it also meant that she was prone to saying things without really thinking about them.

And that’s what happened next. Amy pulled away, leaving scarcely a centimeter between their lips, and chuckled. The vibrations from her diaphragm sent chills up and down her body, and she switched from bouncing to grinding her hips in a quick, sensuous circles. “'Catching up?'” she exhaled. “Ace, you were never behind. It’s cute that you believed that, though.” She moved her lips to the delicate skin behind Army’s ear and lashed out with her tongue. There was a spot there that, when hit just right, always made Army jerk, no matter how far along he was- whether he was just stepping out of the shower or about to burst- and Amy adored it. This had been a great idea.

Army very rarely talked during sex, tended to keep things quiet in the bedroom aside from the usual grunts and moans and the occasional cliche. Not against it, but most of the girls he'd been with didn't have all that much interesting to say in those moments.

Amy was fun to talk to whenever, though. He liked the way she was such a crazy lover, wild and insane, but she still kept her head on straight enough to drive him crazy with that dexterous tongue of hers. Curling around his ear, hitting him in the right spot in just the right way. There might as well have been a button there for her to press.

He was wrapped up in the moment, so much so that he almost didn't process what she said - there was a delayed reaction before he processed what she was saying enough to have an opinion about it.

When it did register, Army wasn't mad. Not really. Hell, he was happy. He'd thought there was some benchmark he wasn't quite reaching, and now he knew his exact position. Nothing wrong there.

But she'd fooled him. And, like everything between them, that meant the score needed evening.

Her movements were getting too crazy, too fast, and Army found himself at the recieving end of a fierce climax in short order, shuddering as he rode it out and the calm haze took over his body. And along with it, came a devilish smile. "That a fact?"

He sat up and slid out from Amy, cutting her off before she could reach the finish line, too.

When she felt Army begin to convulse inside her, Amy leaned and took his mouth. Did he want to breath during his orgasm? That was just too bad. He'd have to struggle to inhale from around her lips and her tongue, and then only through her taste and her scent. After a few seconds, she was forced to retreat herself, giving him one last gentle tug on his lower lip with her teeth before leaning back, gasping and moaning as she rode him the rest of the way down.

Once the waves had rolled by, Amy smiled as she slowly pushed up then back down on her legs, savoring Army's last few twitches inside of her. That was good. Army's orgasm had brought her close. Very close. Just a little more should do it. Amy bit her lip and put her hands on Army's chest, breathing hard... Only to have Army pull out, a mischievous smile on his face.

Amy was a little irritated, but fine. She took his withdrawal to mean that Army wanted to change positions. A quick glance at the clock told her that they had a little over five minutes to their fight. They had time.

Amy got to her feet and hurried to the dressing table against the wall. She urgently swept everything to the side, knocking more than a few knickknacks and pieces of clothing off onto the ground, then turned around and hopped on. She leaned back against the lit mirror, her eyes closed and her legs spread and dangling off the edge. Army was proud of what he could do with his tongue, and he had every damn right to be. He was talented, and she was going to let him show off all he wanted.

"Well, yeah. You don’t just tell a guy that he’s the best lay you’ve ever had. If it's gonna be a one time thing, sure, maybe, let him feel good about himself. But if not, you want him hungry. Besides, I’ve seen you play Mario Kart. You work that much harder in second place." Amy's brow furrowed slightly in frustration. "Do we have to talk about this now? Our fight's in like five, and I'm kinda cooling down over here, Ace."

Army heard what Amy was saying, but he couldn't quite respond at the moment. Mostly because he was busy giggling his ass off and trying hard not to burst out laughing.

He wasn't quite sure what he expected Amy to do after her slammed the breaks and brought things to a screeching halt. Freak out. Get confused. Get pissed. Anything and everything could apply with her, and there was no way to tell until he pulled the trigger and got the reaction.

What Amy wound up doing baffled him, until he realized where she was going with this, what she clearly thought was going to happen. And that was when the snickering started.

Going down on Amy wasn't the worst idea, but he wouldn't be doing it before the match. He peeled off the condom and started dressing up as she finished talking, sliding into his boxer and plopping back into the wrestling boots as silently as he could ever manage.

After a few moments of dead, Arny strolled her way, leaned forward, and hit her a tepid peck on the lips. The ones of her face. "I know you are. That's the whole point." He gave her quick wink and slid back, waving her way as he almost moonwalked out. "Gotta catch something to eat before the match. Because I'm hungry."

And he gave her a thumbs up before he left, just to put the cherry on top.

Amy’s breathing was bated. She could hear light shuffling, but nothing that would arouse suspicion, and her anticipation remained high. But Army wasn’t saying anything, and he certainly wasn’t giving her what she needed. When the quiet had stretched a moment too long, and Amy opened her eyes, annoyed- “What are you waiting...” -just in time to see Army coming in for a kiss. Finally. Amy closed her eyes again, but, before she could open her mouth to reciprocate, Army had already fallen back. Amy’s eyes fluttered open, confused. That wasn’t a kiss; Army had done little more than squish his face against hers. What the fuck? And is Army dressed? Why is Army dressed?

click.

Oh no.

Amy tried to quelch the growing dread in her shoulders. “Army, what are you doing?” But Army was already talking and making it very clear what he was doing, and that he was doing it deliberately, but Amy tried to stay hopeful. “Army, don’t play me like this, it’s not funny.” But he was already at the door, making a hilarious crack about how hungry he was. Then, with an infuriating little thumbs up, he disappeared.

Amy took a deep breath.

“ARMANDO FUCKING RODRIGUEZ, YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

But she was already back on her feet, scrounging around for her clothes. Of course he wasn’t coming back; she wouldn’t have come back. It was a beautiful move, and Amy wished to god that she was on the other end of it. Amy got played, and Amy got played good, and she had only been too eager to help him get the better of her. The worst part? A man had used sex as a weapon against Amy Poford. Manipulating her with sex. Her. A man.

It was a dark day indeed.

Amy quickly gave herself a once over. Her shoes and socks were pulled on. Her hair was tied back in a rushed ponytail. Her attire… Black bike shorts, check. Blue sports bra, check. T-shirt, check. Blaise’s signature was splayed proudly around her right abs and back...No. wait. that’s not right. Amy flipped her shirt. Okay, there. Blaise’s signature rested in its rightful place over her left abdominals. She touched it lightly. Good, all done. She glanced at the clock. Three minutes. If she hurried, she could catch Army at the curtain. She burst out the dressing room door…

...only to collapse against the wall opposite. Damn. Her knees were still shaky. She was still unbelievably turned on, and Army’s little prank had only made it worse. She was into it; she was into playful, clever guys, and Army was proving to be a worthy opponent. Fuck.

Amy got back to her feet and made her way unsteadily down the hall, one hand on the wall for support. Little shit, she fumed to herself. I can just see the shit-eating grin on his face.

Amy Poford

-VS-

Armando 'Army' Rodriguez

Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, or KO



Army heard something a little different when his music started up and he came out from the back. It was something he hadn't heard for months, at least not this early in a match - cheers.

Yup. It hadn't taken a while to shake off the stigma of his match with Jackie, but it looked like the shitstorm was finally passing. He wasn't getting any standing ovations or anything, the arena wasn't rocking for him, but he was still getting a nice wave of respect from the fans as he came out in his red boxing robe and bounced along to the music. He probably had Hana Fujioka to thank for a lot of that. Even though he didn't win the match with her, he'd recieved some good press for the bout and it seemed to turn some heads in the right direction.

These fans, at the end of the day, wanted to see a good match. He could respect that, and it made him want to give them more of the same. So, from this point on? He was going to be more focused as a wrestler. He was going to be better. Take things more seriously.

Well, maybe he'd start taking things more seriously in the next match. This one was more about having fun.

Army made his way up the steps, came in through the ropes, and handed took off his boxing robe to reveal his usual attire - red boxing shorts with the black trim, black boxing shoes with the red laces, and his fists wrapped up all over his forearm. He looked sharp, he looked slick, and he felt every bit of it. The only difference was that, instead of his usual, focused look, he had a smile on his face. A nice, wide-grin as he watched the entrance and waited for his very special opponent to arrive.

The referee, a little Japanese girl with a crew cut, took his robe and handed it off to some of the stage crew, then made her way back to shoot him a quizzical stare. "What are you smiling about?"

Army did a little shadow boxing, limbering up while his music started to die down. Still smiling. "Nothing much." He whistled, trying to look innocent. "Just a funny little joke."

Amy didn’t make it in time. She reached the curtain just after Army had left, which earned Ken the sound guy a petty and unwarranted glare.

While she waited, Amy couldn’t hold it back anymore; she finally broke down into a fit of disbelieving laughter. God! She had made it so easy for him! Amy was tempted to chase Army down the ramp and attack him from behind with his entrance music still playing- there was precedent for that- but, instead, Amy channeled that impulse into two sharp slaps on her cheeks and a frenetic pacing. She was brimming with a sexual energy that had nowhere to go, and it was wearing her pipes thin. She couldn’t fight like this. Shit. Okay, focus, focus.

She managed to calm down enough to keep her balance as she walked down the ramp. Normally she might have played a little to the audience- Burn by Deep Purple was easy to pump up to- but she was having trouble enough keeping the energy she already had from spilling over. Fight, fight, fight… she repeated the word to herself like a mantra, and before too long she felt centered enough to shoot up a fist and grin for the crowd when she hopped up onto the apron.

But when she climbed into the ring and saw Army watching her with a devil-may-care grin on his face, her jaw dropped. Just, zero compunction. Like he’d done nothing wrong. Hell, happy about it. Delighted, even.

It was enough to get her burning up again. Damn.

Amy stepped threateningly to the center of the ring. Then she stepped closer- the ref girl regarded her with a wary eye. Amy’s face- her whole body- was flushed. Her bangs were matted to her forehead. Her eyes were probably a little unsteady. But she made her voice as unwavering as she could.

“Well, we’re certainly pleased with ourselves, aren’t we?” The tone was meant to be disdainful, but she couldn't keep her lips from curling up into an excited smile before the sentence was through.

Though they hadn't known each other too long, Army still felt like he had a good sense for Amy's movements. He watched her. He paid attention to the way she moved and the little subtleties of her body. So, when she came out of the ring looking she'd just stepped out of a porno scene, he watched with interested eyes to see how much she was still effected. The answer made him smile just a bit wider.

Her eyes were wibbly and wobbly, her body was so red that it could have passed for a nice tan. He could almost feel guilty for the number he'd done on her, but he had to remember one, simple fact: if Amy had the opportunity, she would do the exact same thing to him and giggle all the way. That little smile on her face told him that much, no matter how well she hid it.

"Well, I'm pleased with myself, yeah. Don't know about you." He stepped forward with his arms crossed, as the referee backed off and gave them some space. "Love your new hairstyle, by the way. Got, like, a natural thing going on, rocking it. What do you call it?"

The bell rang and Army moved into a classic grappling stance, getting his hands up for what looked like a test of strength. He seriously doubted Amy would be crazy enough to accept it, but he was curious to see exactly how she'd react. This was a good day to press all the right buttons.

Amy glanced at jumbotron, then hastily fixed her hair. “I hate you so much.”

Then when the bell rang, Army put his hands up, inviting her to a test of strength. Amy raised an eyebrow. When had she ever accepted a test of strength with Army? When had she ever accepted a test of strength, period? Sure she was a little far gone, but she wasn't brain dead. Maybe Army was overestimating how hot she was? She could use that. It was a big risk, particularly since Army probably knew her well enough to be suspicious, but she’d try it. Besides, she was fairly certain that she could be pretty convincing, since she’d only be half acting.

Amy stepped forward, biting her lips, her hands pulling distractedly at her ponytail, which trailed over her left shoulder. Her big wide eyes stared straight past Army’s hands up into his eyes, then trailed subtly down to his lips, where they lingered, closing halfway. Amy made her own lips part as she gave a tiny little exhale, making sure that they had the light sheen of her saliva before they opened. If allowed, she would move in past his arms and turn around, then press her hips against Army’s and give a little shudder- a real one. She would reach her arms up to caress Army’s head, rifle her fingers through his hair, her chin tilting up, lips slightly parted… then suddenly grip hard and drop down into a stunner.

She really hoped this would work. She would feel unbelievably stupid for stepping right into Army’s arms if it didn’t.