What's Up, Doc? (For Gwyndolin)

"All I hear is squishy noises! I got abused in the ear!," protests Drake. And while it's just such a nasty feeling, having a wet willy, he isn't entirely angry. Grossed out, but still happy. It's improving, at least? Either way, when her arm leaves his head, she gives him ample freedom to tuck his head in closer beneath her shoulder. The hand against her thigh pulls up unabashedly while the other arm hooks around her waist.

His intention to tease her has evolved into a different attack as he arches his back, attempting to hoist her by her hips and waist into the air! The teen drops back to slam the girl flat onto her back on the mat in a high backbody drop!

Like Irene had noted in the match that had brought them together, Drake was smarter than he let on. He had managed to fool her into thinking he would use some sexual teasing to coax her into releasing him, but as Irene let her guard down, the devious combatant tightened his grip on her and twisted her up and into the air. The girl's heart practically leapt from her chest as the surprise of it jolted her. “Waaaahhh!” Irene screamed as her body was thrown backwards, crashing into the mat on her upper back. Writhing in pain and rubbing her sore spine, the girl looked up at Drake and frowned at him, less irritated about the pain she was in than the fact that her teasing had been stopped. She opened her mouth to cough up an insult, but a groan of pain was all that escaped her lips.

Irene turned onto her stomach and tried to will her arms and legs to push her back off of the mat. Alas, Drake was still standing over her, and there was nothing stopping him from pouncing on her exposed form to continue his assault.

And pounce is precisely what Drake does.

The young model throws himself over her back to hook his left arm under her chin. His right arm goes to hook the elbow of her right arm, the hand going for her wrist to cinch on a quick hammerlock. This has the side-effect of placing her palm squarely against his bare, flat chest, mushing their combined limbs between their bodies. But outside of that, she'll find his hips pressed firmly against her rear.

While his left arm pulls on her chin to add a small arch to the blossoming submission hold, none of the aforementioned is the point of this hold. Drake tilts his head in to nip against the side of her neck, drawing the soft flesh between his teeth to flick his tongue against her skin.

“Oof,” Irene grunted as Drake pressed himself on top of her from behind, securing her neck and her arm in a light but effective submission. Combined with his weight on top of her, it left her immobilized, as the girl tried to keep too much strain from being put on her shoulder. Her right hand, twisted painfully behind her back, was pressed up against his firm chest, with his hips keeping hers secured to the canvas.

Adding insult to injury, Drake pulled up on her head to expose her tender neck, and his hot breath scalding the back of her head warned her that he was about to get a taste of it. Irene's frustrated glare turned to a guilty smile as soon as his lips graced the side of her neck. Her breathing picked up as Drake started edging her toward exhilaration, nibbling her and sampling her skin with the tip of his tongue. Ever flick it made against her skin sent a tremor down her body as he teased her sensitive flesh.

“Ooh, you went from getting saliva rubbed in your ear to asserting yourself pretty quickly,” Irene strained, finding it hard to speak between her own excitement and Dom's arm pressed beneath her chin. As much fun as she was having, Irene was determined not to let Drake roll her over so easily, and she started testing his grip on her, risking some pain on her shoulder to wriggle around beneath him.

The hammerlock is tight, but not iron-clad. He has no intentions of really working a submission out of her, nor even wearing down her limbs. His only intention is to 'hold' her in the position. So she'll find some give in her arm, though his chest pressing into her palm makes retrieving the limb difficult.

"Good point.. I owe you..," he whispers, lips brushing against her neck for every word. His head raises, nuzzling up against her jaw, then her cheek... and he suddenly tongues at her ear. Super wet willy. It's gross, but worth it. He's a vindictive model!

..Plus, she might be into it, he doesn't know. And he doesn't have any hands free.

As soon as Drake whispered those words into Irene's ear, she knew exactly what he was thinking of doing, and it made her heart race out of her chest. “No, nooo, don't even think about it,” her eyes went wide as his hot breath warmed her left ear, and the sound of saliva being churned as he opened his mouth and extended his tongue sent her into a panic. She wasn't sure how this would feel to her, either. It was a little kinky, but so, so unsanitary.

His tongue probed her ear, and she wasn't shy about letting him know how she felt about it. She squealed, loudly, in a girlish high-pitch that couldn't be pegged as the result of excitement, distress, or a combination of both. Fortunately, Irene had a free arm while Drake didn't. Her left hand came into play to grab Drake's face, trying to block his tongue from her ear or pull it off. She only had one free hand, though, and trying to protect one part of her head left other areas exposed. Her other arm started writhing more eagerly than before, trying to slip out of Drake's grasp to help defend her head, scratching his chest with her fingernails as she did.

Drake thought about it, for all of a second. And he then did it. It was as gross as he expected, but her reaction was just delectable. He snickers hotly against her wet ear, trying to keep the torture up even as she struggles. Her free hand paws and pushes at his face, and he finally relents. His arm lowers from her chin to slide down against her chest, sneaking a playful squeeze against her breast.

Those fingers scratching at his chest gets his attention. The teen lifts to just sit up atop her, mounting her rear. "Now we're..." He pauses to 'pteh' the taste out of his mouth, "...even. No more wet willies!"

Irene unleashed one final indignant yelp as Drake honked her breast while his arm glided past it. Irene, of course, was having more fun than she was letting on, although she was going to make a point of cleaning out her ear canal later. Probably tasted like hot chocolate backwash in there...

Anyway, by now Irene was getting eager to retaliate, and when Drake released most of his hold on her and got into a more relaxed position, straddling her derriere, Irene took the opportunity to strike back. Pushing the mat with both arms in an effort to right her upper body, Irene hoped to make him lose his balance, rolling him off of her and sending him onto his back. Furthermore, if she could manage to dislodge his considerable weight from her rear, Irene would roll herself back along with him, hoping to wind up in an upright position atop Drake's legs, trapping him in a matchbook pin of sorts...with his vulnerable rear facing right up at her. It was a bit of a long shot, but what fun it would be if it worked.

Though Irene didn't speak, the noises she did make were plenty telling! He laughs from his perch, settling into her backside. His hips give a guilty little shift, grinding into her pert bottom... until he's suddenly rolled back! "Whoa, hey!," he laughs. And she manages to push him into a matchbook pin!

Well, if that doesn't just throw a wrench into his still-formulating plans...

Drake blinks up at her from between his legs, then smirks. The muscle throughout his legs tense, and he attempts to thrust out and throw her body off and away from himself! "Not ready to be pinned just yet, hotstuff!"

Irene stared hungrily at Drake's rear – those firm, toned glutes of his. Boy, Irene really was discovering herself to be a fiend of sorts as she participated in these fights, no wonder she couldn't seem to form a normal relationship that held together.

Before she could do much more than simply place her palms on his cheeks, Drake reminded Irene of how powerful his legs were. It could've had something to do with her light weight, or her neglecting to secure her position since she had been somewhat busy staring at dat booty of his, but he threw her off easily, and it made her sad.

“Noooo!” she whined as she sat up on the mat, raising up her hands and making symbolic grasping gestures with her fingers. “I was just about to start groping your...and then I was going to pinch your...and maybe even lick your...waaahhh!”

Yep, Irene was a fiend, alright. She didn't finish her sentence, leaving Drake in the dark as to what exactly she had wanted to do. As she sat there, jokingly lamenting her loss, the raven haired wrestler might get another chance to go on the attack, as she wasn't hurrying back to her feet just yet.