"Fuck!" Amber spat out, but any viciousness the word would've brought was undone by the laughing undertone to her voice. She swore again as she tested the strength of Eric's bind: pretty damn strong. The bulk of his muscles wasn't nearly as attractive now. He had the physical upper hand; no use trying to overpower him. Kicking would be just as useless; with him behind, she couldn't gather the necessary force to hit him hard enough to smart. She couldn't even twist her wrists out of his hold, since he’d grabbed her arms so tight she could barely move them.
Slamming her head back would work, but it'd suck to spend the rest of their Saturday treating his broken nose.
"You know nothing about me," Amber declared, "if you think I'd ever say such a thing."
The thing about getting out of a physical imprisonment was to dislocate your opponent; in that flash of a second, you could turn the tables, making them beg for mercy. Amber threw her leg behind her, hooking her calf behind his, and rolled again; giggled, since all that accomplished was turning the both of them to look upward. Her arms were just as bound as before. She couldn't even sit up. A few digs into his ribs with her elbows, though, that much Amber could manage. And did.
Technically, she was losing. Terribly. He had her trapped and she saw no way of winning. But it was all in good fun and the novelty of wrestling with Eric pushed out any ideas of competition. Amber didn't need to chain him up, to keep him from touching her-- on the contrary, her abdomen was starting to ache from the laughter, and she felt as light as the lazy daylight streaming in from the window. It felt good, Eric challenging her body in new ways. “Any chance you’ll just get tired and let go of me?”
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Slamming her head back would work, but it'd suck to spend the rest of their Saturday treating his broken nose.
"You know nothing about me," Amber declared, "if you think I'd ever say such a thing."
The thing about getting out of a physical imprisonment was to dislocate your opponent; in that flash of a second, you could turn the tables, making them beg for mercy. Amber threw her leg behind her, hooking her calf behind his, and rolled again; giggled, since all that accomplished was turning the both of them to look upward. Her arms were just as bound as before. She couldn't even sit up. A few digs into his ribs with her elbows, though, that much Amber could manage. And did.
Technically, she was losing. Terribly. He had her trapped and she saw no way of winning. But it was all in good fun and the novelty of wrestling with Eric pushed out any ideas of competition. Amber didn't need to chain him up, to keep him from touching her-- on the contrary, her abdomen was starting to ache from the laughter, and she felt as light as the lazy daylight streaming in from the window. It felt good, Eric challenging her body in new ways. “Any chance you’ll just get tired and let go of me?”