Chapter 2: The Forfeit Match: Winner Takes All
The week was a blur of charged glances and accidental touches that were never accidental. Every drill, every live go, was a conversation their bodies were having in a language Mouse was only just learning to speak. The “cuddle” penalty from Coach Davies had become a grimly hilarious secret between them, a flare of heat in the middle of the sterile gym.
It was after a particularly grueling Thursday practice, the sky outside the high windows bleeding into bruised purple, when Jordy cornered her by the water fountain.
“You’re coming over,” Jordy said, not asking. Her hair was damp, plastered to her temples, and she smelled like salt and effort.
“I have homework,” Mouse mumbled, taking a sip to avoid looking at her.
“Bullshit. You have anime and a bag of chips waiting. Bring it to my place. We need to… study techniques.” The way she said it, low and deliberate, left no room for debate. “My folks are at some fundraiser until midnight.”
Mouse’s heart slammed against her sternum. “Techniques.”
“Yeah. The ones Coach keeps yelling at us about.” A slow, predatory smirk spread across Jordy’s face. “The ones we keep fucking up.”
The walk to Jordy’s house was quiet, filled with the rustle of fallen leaves and the weight of what wasn’t being said. Jordy’s room was exactly as described: a nest. Wrestling gear was piled in one corner, a laptop played a muted competitive gaming stream on the desk, and the air was a mix of lavender fabric softener and the undeniable, deep scent of athletic girl. A single desk lamp cast a warm, dim pool of light, leaving the corners in soft shadow.
“Home sweet hellhole,” Jordy said, dropping her bag with a thud. She peeled off her hoodie, standing there in just a tight black sports bra and compression shorts. The lamplight caught the sheen on her shoulders, the powerful curve of her back, the softer swell of her hips. She was a landscape of strength, and Mouse felt dangerously small.
“So,” Mouse started, her voice sticking in her throat. “What… techniques?”
Jordy turned, her eyes dark pools in the low light. She walked forward, not stopping until Mouse had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “The finish. We keep getting tangled. Losing focus.” She reached out and pushed Mouse’s shoulder, not hard, but enough to make her take a step back. Then another. The back of Mouse’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and she sat down with a soft whump.
Jordy stood over her, hands on her hips. “You owe me a rematch.”
“For what?” Mouse’s breath was already coming faster.
“For that pin you never tried to escape. For making me lose my goddamn mind in the middle of practice.” Her voice dropped to a purr, rough and intimate. “But this time, we set the rules. This time, loser gets fucked senseless.”
The words hung in the lavender-scented air, filthy and real. Mouse’s whole body went hot, then cold, then hot again. She couldn’t speak. She just nodded, a sharp, desperate jerk of her chin.
That was all the permission Jordy needed.
She was on her in an instant, not with the strategic tie-up of the mat, but with a hungry, consuming energy. Her knees bracketed Mouse’s hips, her weight solid and glorious. She captured Mouse’s mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the first. This was all teeth and tongue and possession, a raw claiming that tasted like sweat and spearmint gum. Mouse groaned into it, her hands coming up to clutch at Jordy’s back, feeling the incredible, shifting muscles under her slick skin.
Jordy broke the kiss, breathing hard. “You’re still wearing too many clothes, Evans.” Her hands hooked under Mouse’s shirt, yanking it up and over her head in one fluid motion. The cool air hit Mouse’s skin, followed immediately by the scorching heat of Jordy’s palms skating over her ribs, her stomach. Jordy’s thumb brushed the underside of Mouse’s breast through her sports bra, and Mouse arched off the bed with a sharp gasp.
“Fuck, you’re responsive,” Jordy muttered, her eyes devouring the sight. She leaned down, biting a possessive path along Mouse’s collarbone, then lower, her mouth closing over one fabric-covered nipple, sucking hard through the material.
The sensation was a lightning bolt. Mouse cried out, her hips bucking uncontrollably. The friction, the wet heat, the slight scrape of teeth—it was too much and not enough. “Jordy…”
“Shut up,” Jordy breathed against her skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same brutal, attentive treatment. Her hand slid down, palming Mouse through her leggings. “Fuck, you’re soaked already. Is this for me? All this slick, desperate wetness, just from me pinning you?”
Mouse could only nod, whimpering, her fingers tangling in Jordy’s dark hair.
Jordy’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Mouse’s leggings and underwear, dragging them down her thighs in one rough pull. The cool air hit Mouse’s bare skin, followed by the intense, searing gaze of the girl above her. Jordy sat back on her heels, looking her fill. “God, look at you. All that strength, laid out for me. Pretty little cunt, all swollen and begging.”
The obscenity, delivered in Jordy’s low, hungry voice, made Mouse clench around nothing. She was exposed, completely vulnerable, and it was the most powerful she’d ever felt.
Jordy stripped off her own sports bra and shorts, and then she was just… there. All of her. Powerful thighs, soft stomach, full breasts tipped with dark, tight peaks. She was magnificent. She crawled back over Mouse, her skin a furnace, and kissed her again, deeply, as her hand found its way between Mouse’s legs.
The first touch of Jordy’s fingers, slick and sure, parting her, was an electric shock. “Jesus,” Mouse panted against her mouth.
“Tell me what you want,” Jordy growled, her fingertip circling Mouse’s clit, a teasing, torturous promise.
“You. Just… you.”
“You have to say it. Wrestlers communicate.” Jordy pushed one thick finger inside, just to the first knuckle, and Mouse’s back arched clean off the bed. “Say it, Mouse. Tell me what you want me to do to this perfect, tight pussy.”
The filth, the command, shattered the last of Mouse’s control. “Fuck me. Please, Jordy, fuck me with your fingers. Make me come.”
Jordy’s smile was feral. “Good girl.”
She pushed her finger in fully, a deep, stretching invasion that made Mouse see stars. Her hips rolled, trying to take more, to chase the perfect, filling pressure. Jordy watched her face, mesmerized, as she began to move, a steady, penetrating rhythm. “You take it so well. So greedy for it.” She added a second finger, and Mouse gasped at the sweet, burning stretch. “That’s it. Take it. This is what you wanted when I had you pinned, isn’t it? Wanted me to just take you right there on the mat.”
“Yes,” Mouse hissed, her world narrowing to the rough glide of Jordy’s fingers inside her, the calloused pad of her thumb rubbing tight, insistent circles on her clit. The pace was relentless, mimicking the pace of their matches—controlled, powerful, driving her inevitably toward a finish.
Jordy leaned down, capturing a nipple in her mouth, sucking hard as she curled her fingers, hitting a spot deep inside that made Mouse cry out, a broken, sharp sound. The coil in her gut wound tighter, unbearably tight. Pleasure, raw and electric, zipped up her spine.
“I’m gonna come,” Mouse warned, her voice a ragged mess.
“Come on my fingers,” Jordy ordered, her own breath coming in harsh pants against Mouse’s breast. “Show me how good I make you feel. Come for me, Mouse. Now.”
It was the command, the use of her nickname in that rough, loving voice, that pushed her over. The orgasm ripped through her, violent and absolute. Her body locked, every muscle taut as a bowstring, a silent scream on her lips as waves of pure, shuddering ecstasy pulsed through her core, around Jordy’s thrusting fingers. It felt like being pinned in the most profound way possible—utterly conquered, completely owned.
She collapsed, boneless, into the tangled sheets, breathing like she’d just gone three periods at full tilt. Jordy slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her own mouth and sucking them clean, her eyes locked on Mouse’s the entire time. The sight sent a fresh, weak jolt through Mouse’s spent body.
Jordy lowered herself, curling around Mouse, skin to sticky skin. She nuzzled into the crook of Mouse’s neck, placing a soft, incongruously gentle kiss there. “Technique studied,” she murmured, her voice drowsy with satisfaction.
Mouse, floating in a haze of endorphins and awe, turned her head. In the dim lamplight, she saw not the predator, but the girl who advocated for body positivity in the lunchroom, who hid her poetry books behind her wrestling playbooks. The vulnerability in Jordy’s now-softened face was more disarming than any double-leg takedown.
Her own shyness was gone, burned away in the crucible of their collision. She reached up, her fingers—still trembling slightly—traced the strong line of Jordy’s jaw.
“My turn to study,” Mouse whispered, and felt Jordy’s smile against her skin.
The smile against her neck was soft, but the hand that slid possessively over her hip was not. Jordy nipped at her skin, a warning bite. “Your turn?” Her voice was a low, amused rumble that vibrated through Mouse’s whole body. “You think you’re in charge now?”
Before Mouse could form a reply, Jordy moved. It wasn’t the swift violence of a takedown, but something more deliberate, more devastating. She rolled, pulling Mouse with her until Mouse was straddling her waist. The new position put Mouse above, but the power imbalance was an illusion. Jordy’s hands gripped her thighs, anchoring her, controlling her completely.
“Go on then,” Jordy said, her eyes challenging in the lamplight. Her thumbs stroked the sensitive skin of Mouse’s inner thighs. “Study.”
Mouse’s confidence, born from the aftershocks of her orgasm, wavered. She’d imagined taking the lead, but seeing Jordy spread out beneath her—all that powerful muscle relaxed, yet watchful—was intimidating. She placed her palms on Jordy’s stomach, feeling the firmness there, the jump of a muscle under her touch. She leaned down to kiss her, trying to mimic Jordy’s earlier hunger.
Jordy let her, for a moment. Then she took over. Her tongue pushed into Mouse’s mouth, commanding the rhythm. One hand came up to fist in Mouse’s hair, not pulling, just holding. Guiding. When she broke the kiss, she was breathing harder. “That’s a start,” she murmured. “But studying requires closer observation, don’t you think?”
Her meaning was clear. The heat between Mouse’s own legs throbbed in response. She hesitated, a flush creeping up her chest.
“Mouse,” Jordy said, her voice dropping. It was no longer playful. It was a velvet-wrapped command. “Get your mouth on me. Now.”
The words, so blunt and filthy, shot straight to Mouse’s core. Any lingering shyness burned away, replaced by a hungry need to obey, to please. She slid down the bed, the sheets whispering under her, until she was kneeling between Jordy’s legs. The scent here was muskier, profoundly female, and utterly intoxicating. Jordy hooked her knees over Mouse’s shoulders, opening herself fully, an offering and a demand.
Mouse looked up the line of her body, meeting Jordy’s heavy-lidded gaze. Then she lowered her head.
The first touch of her tongue was a tentative stroke through slick, coarse curls. Jordy’s hips jerked. “Don’t be polite,” she growled. “Eat. Me. Out.”
Mouse dove in. She licked a broad, firm stripe from her opening to her clit, learning the taste of her—salt and sweetness and something uniquely Jordy. She focused on that swollen bud, circling it, then sucking it gently between her lips.
“Fuck, yes,” Jordy hissed, her fingers threading back into Mouse’s hair, not guiding yet, just resting. A promise. “Just like that. Use your fucking tongue.”
Mouse lost herself in the act. She lapped at her, drunk on the taste and the sounds spilling from Jordy’s mouth—guttural moans, fragmented curses. She pushed her tongue inside, fucking her with it, feeling Jordy’s inner muscles clench around nothing. She was relentless, a competitor finding her rhythm, her lips and chin soaked.
Jordy’s breath became ragged, broken pleas. “Right there, don’t stop, god, your mouth—” The hand in Mouse’s hair tightened, finally directing her, holding her right where she needed her. Mouse obeyed, increasing the pressure, the speed. She felt Jordy’s thighs begin to tremble against her ears. The whole powerful structure of her was tensing, coiling.
“I’m gonna come,” Jordy warned, her voice straining.
Mouse redoubled her efforts, sucking hard, flicking her tongue with frantic precision.
Jordy came with a choked, raw shout, her back arching clear off the bed. Her climax pulsed against Mouse’s mouth, a hot, rhythmic flood. Mouse kept working her through it, gentling only when Jordy’s grip in her hair went slack and a long, shuddering sigh escaped her lips.
Silence fell, broken only by their ragged breathing. Mouse rested her forehead against Jordy’s thigh, dazed. Aftershocks twitched through the muscles under her cheek.
Then, strong hands were pulling her up, dragging her back up the bed. Jordy’s eyes were black, post-storm dark. She looked wrecked and utterly victorious. She kissed Mouse deeply, making her taste herself on Mouse’s tongue. It was profoundly dirty and possessive.
“Good,” Jordy breathed into her mouth. “So good.” Her hands were already moving again, roaming Mouse’s body, re-igniting embers into flames. The brief intermission was over. The dominance was absolute, a fact of the room now. She rolled Mouse onto her stomach with effortless strength.
Mouse gasped into the pillow, the submission electric. Jordy settled over her, her weight a comforting press. She kissed the knob of Mouse’s spine, then the sweat-damp space between her shoulder blades. “You’re not done,” Jordy murmured, her voice a physical thing against Mouse’s skin. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”
Her hand slipped between Mouse’s thighs from behind, fingers sliding through her soaked folds with an appreciative groan. “Fuck, you’re still so wet. Dripping for me.” Two fingers pushed into her without preamble, a deep, filling stretch that made Mouse cry out, the sound muffled by the bedding.
Jordy fucked her with them, a steady, piston-like rhythm, her other arm braced beside Mouse’s head. She leaned down, her breath hot in Mouse’s ear. “This is what you needed, isn’t it? Not a rematch. This. To be used. To be fucked until you can’t remember your own name.”
“Yes,” Mouse sobbed, pushing back against the driving fingers. The angle was different, hitting places that made sparks dance behind her closed eyelids.
“Say my name,” Jordy demanded, curling her fingers.
“Jordy!” It was half-shout, half-plea.
“Again.”
“Jordy, please, don’t stop—”
“I decide when I stop.” Her thrusts became harder, faster. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, filthy sound of her fingers working Mouse’s cunt, filled the room. Mouse was hurtling toward another climax, this one sharper, deeper, born from complete surrender. Her fists clenched in the sheets.
Jordy bit her shoulder, a sharp, stinging claim. “Come for me. Now.”
The command tipped her over. This orgasm wasn’t a wave; it was a detonation. It shattered her, wracking her small frame with violent tremors, a silent scream tearing from her throat as her cunt clenched violently around Jordy’s pumping fingers. Pleasure, white-hot and total, wiped her mind clean.
Jordy worked her through every last spasm, until Mouse was a boneless, trembling heap. Then she slowly withdrew, turning Mouse onto her back. She gathered her close, tucking Mouse’s head under her chin. Their hearts hammered against each other, a frantic, slowing drumbeat.
The lavender in the air was now mingled with the pungent, intimate scent of sex and sweat. Mouse’s body felt gloriously ruined, every nerve sung out. She traced the fresh bite mark on Jordy’s bicep, a mirror to the one on her own shoulder.
Outside, a car door slammed in the distance. Reality, with its clocks and fundraisers, hovered at the edges of the warm, dark room.
Jordy’s fingers, which had been stroking lazy patterns on Mouse’s back, stilled. “They’ll be home soon,” she said, her voice quiet. It wasn’t regret. It was a simple, grim fact.
Mouse just nodded against her chest, the wordless communication of the mat returning. She didn’t want to move. Moving would mean facing what this was, what it meant. Here, in this tangled nest, she was just a body that fit perfectly against another body. Here, she was conquered, and it felt more like freedom than any victory she’d ever known.
Jordy’s arms tightened around her. A final, unspoken command to stay. Just for a few more minutes.