Laila Nazari vs. Prayuth 'Pray' Sakda - The Huntress and the Hunted

Prayuth’s arms released Laila without much protest, letting her roll about as she wished. His spine was still to aching to stop here, too wracked with the accumulated pain to get any real response. He could do nothing else but lay there, wallowing, and stare up at her as she moved around and...and…

”Huh.” He blinked a few times, their faces so close now that he could taste her breath on his tongue. ”You have really pretty eyes.”

He wasn’t sure why he said it. Laila was clearly not about to give him any slack, damn sure not for a pickup line. It just came out, and there was no getting it back in the box. He meant it, but flattery wouldn't do him any good.

He was still getting hefted up.

He was still getting thrown back down.

He still came down hard and took a shock to his entire system, one that left him laid out and suffering, once again helpless in her shadow. Only, unlike the last time, he doubted she would give him any slack.

Just before Laila lifted him up, Prayuth made a simple innocuous remark about her eyes. It wasn't a blatant attempt to hit on her, or some sneering, sexist remark about her good looks, or anything else like that. It sounded, at least to her ears, like a genuine, out of the blue compliment, and it took her completely by surprise. Her eyes widened slightly in reaction to Prayuth's remark, and if her face weren't already flushed a little from exertion, she'd have blushed.

She quickly caught herself, however, and lifted Prayuth up, "Flattery will get you nowhere," she growled in Arabic, slamming him down onto the mat again with authority. The moment Prayuth's legs unwound around her, then she would pull him up again; for the second time in this match, she would try to hoist him across her shoulders in a trophy rack move, although this time it would be in preparation for her finisher, the Hawk's Prey!

Getting battered around like a ragdoll had not given Prayuth the ability to understand whatever language Laila was slipping into, small surprise. He could read her tone well enough that it didn’t matter much anyway. She was pissed off, seething, and he could tell from the look in those burning eyes of hers that she had every intention of ending this and enjoying every second of it.

Up he went again to his familiar perch, hanging on her shoulders as she pulled his body down and bent it into an unnatural shape. Ligaments stretched, bones cracked, and it felt as if his body was being torn in two, stretched to its utmost limits.

The worst part? He could sense that she wasn’t done. Not yet. There was more pain to come.

The crowd was going wild now as Laila draped Prayuth, trapping him across her shoulders as she stretched his muscles, ligaments, tendons, bones....all he could do was kick weakly, and groan a little. She could feel the sweat from his body dripping down onto hers, as his struggles slowly but surely weakened. It was time to end this. 

Dropping down to one knee, Laila would give a loud cry as she slammed Prayuth's back down across her outstretched knee. This time, though, she would not release him: instead she would press down on his chin and knee, driving him down further against her knee as she bent him across it. She gritted her teeth, feeling sweat roll down her forehead. "Give up!" she snarled. "It's over! Tap already!"

Things were bad. Prayuth was aching, sweaty, delirious mess on Laila’s shoulders, caught in the huntress’ grasp like a fresh kill. It wasn’t the best look for him, he knew, but it was all he could really pull out at the moment. He was a wreck.

And then it got worse. So much worse.

He cried out when she dropped him on her knee, and that cry only grew louder and hoarser and harsher when she started pushing down. His spine was stretched, his bones began to crack, and he was introduced to a kind of pain that he’d never experienced, one that he’d never fathomed.

He didn’t want to tap. His body, however, had a much different opinion on the matter. It tapped and tapped hard on her leg, slapping away with a mad fervor, desperate for release before Laila broke something that wouldn’t be easily healed.

Laila felt Prayuth tap, and decided that Prayuth had had enough. Throughout this match, she had dominated the Thai, physically, mentally and emotionally, and now he had nothing left to give in this fight. Now he truly was her prey, completely at her mercy...and thankfully for him, she actually had mercy to spare.

She released Prayuth, and let him flop to the mat in a pile of limbs and sweaty flesh. Breathing deeply, she would stand to her feet, her metal theme blaring in the background as she was announced as the winner. Some in the crowd cheered her on, others booed her....throughout it all, she remained aloof, indifferent.

That is, until she looked down at Prayuth, and, unexpectedly, started to kneel astride him, straddling his heaving chest as she glared down at him. At first, she wasn't sure why she was doing so-- it was just, for some reason, Prayuth's earlier comment about her eyes was sticking in her mind.

"Hey," she said to get his attention. "Before you fall unconscious down there: you were pretty tough to survive against me for as long as you did." She leaned closer to lock eyes with him. "Look me up again if you ever get stronger, okay?"

And with that, Laila would stand back up, wordlessly slick her hair to the side, and stride out of the arena, leaving Prayuth as he was, lying prone in the center of the ring.

There were many men and women in the AFW who would’ve kept on bending Prayuth in half even after he tapped and gotten some sick pleasure from it. Luckily for him and his spine, Laila wasn’t that type. He gave up, she let him go, easy as that.

He hit the mat in a heap, breathing heavy and staring up at the ceiling as the lights burned his skin. He was wasted, exhausted, could barely even stay awake. But he wasn’t so out of it that he couldn’t notice Laila straddling him and nearing his face.

For a moment that felt ten times longer, they were close. So close. Those eyes of her bore into him, glowing in the shadows of her face, haunting him. Even as she spoke, he never left them, couldn't break eye contact. He was fixed. Locked. Spellbound.

Then she broke away, and it was over. But even after she left, Prayuth stayed there, lying on his back, as one solitary thought circulated through his brain, rolling around and around.

He needed to get stronger.