"Fuck it, I just love Phuket!" Spike chirped up.
The road to the arena was lined with stalls, all of them displaying a rainbow of banners, signs, and lights. This was nothing to say of the aromas, the fruits, the foods, and the colorful clothing worn by the jovial proprietors calling out their wares to the hungry crowd drawing closer to the open air stadium.
Iggy and Spike didn't exactly blend in. Dressed in a blue floral T-shirt and a flashy aviators, Spike looked like a Hollywood celebrity. Iggy, going for a more feminine approach, wore a green sarong, their hair in a ponytails, capped with a hibiscus flower. Spike thought it nice to see his teacher in more gender fluid clothing, especially because it showed off their amazing arms and legs.
"You look pretty great in that getup," Spike said.
Iggy adjusted their flashy sunglasses. "Nothing wrong with a sarong, kitten!"
The two spellbreakers earned their fine share of stares from the crowd around them, but they were more expressions of awe and curiosity than derision. The spellbreakers had received nothing but a warm welcome from their Thai fans since landing a few days ago.
The two fighters had come out to support their fellow roster-member tonight, but Spike was already having a wrestling match against hunger. The sights of red, steaming prawns and chefs wok-tossing rice over tall flames made his stomach growl. "I could eat my weight in pad thai...or pineapple fried rice...or mango custard...or..."
Iggy smirked. "We get it, you're here for the food."
Spike eyed the two, beefy Thai rugby boys throwing back shots at a stall near by. "Not just the food, teach..." Then again, culture. "I wanna go to some drag shows too!" He knew that would interest his mentor, the flashy, theatrical heel.
"Kitten, we're here to support our hunky, luchador friend."
"Your boyfriend, I know, I know."
"This is gonna be a special match, Sailor! Your roomie, Kengo, might be a spirit summoner, but his is only one kind of summoning."
Now, Spike—passing through a hanging floral arrangement partitioning the stadium entrance—was genuinely intrigued. "What do you mean?"
Iggy winked. "You'll see."
It was a fairly small arena, but the crowd was electric. A humid, tropical evening, Spike and Iggy were thankful for the open arena, and with not a cloud hanging in the clear sky, they were unlikely to get rained on. The excited audience carried paper fans and sipped from long glasses of iced tea. Cryos and Ventus magi, positioned at either end of the stadium, took shifts casting a cool climate over all. For Spike, this was the best kind of evening. No high stakes spellbreaking. Just fun.
The mistress of ceremonies, celebrated announcer and drag queen, Miss Khanom Chan, appeared on the announcer's stage in a giant, blooming lotus that burst into a snow shower of colorful petals. The giant bloom became the Plant magi's dress. She waved to her adoring fans and blew kisses, before taking up the microphone.
"Ladies and gentleman, how are we all feeling tonight!?"
"Hungry!" Spike gleefully shouted, before Iggy playfully smacked him upside the head. The crowd answered the announcer with far more focused enthusiasm.
Face painted to perfection, and hair a beehave of blossoms, the drag queen smiled. "Okay folks, let's get to it! We have some absolute muscle studs about to go at it and get nasty. So, no matter who loses the match, we're the real winners. This match is scheduled for one fall. Coming to the ring, it's the macho papi of romance, the Romeo of the Ring, the Warrior of Love, and my future husband...El Amante Intoxico!"
From the rows, Iggy shot Miss Khanom Chan a dark look. "Keep off my man, sister. This kitten has claws!" She's lucky her outfit looks sickening...
With a red, velvet cape wrapped around his sturdy frame, El Amante looked like a regal king. Befitting a floral setting, the luchador had chosen a desert cactus inspired mask outfit tonight that his cousin, and Chloros-wielding spellbreaker, Reina Rosa had put together. He could hear excitedly rattling off the details in his head.
"The costume is based on the acuña cactus--or Butterfly Cactus. The cactus flower, in the language of flowers, symbolizes lust/physical attraction that withstands harsh environments In addition, it attracts monarch butterflies. The cactus flower, in the language of flowers, symbolizes lust and physical attraction that withstands harsh environments."
El Amante smiled and blew kisses to his many admirers on either side of the aisle, all who reeled back in ecstasy as they were hit by his wave of love magick.
Arriving at the ring, El Amante wiped his gold boots on the apron and entered. He let the ref pat him down, and then did his sexy little strpper routine for the squeeling delight of the crowd.
"This too hot!" Miss Khanom said, unfurling a floral-patterned fan and fanning herself. "El Amante, don't go and get deported now, sweetie!"
The luchador threw off his apron, revealing his oil-coated body. El Amante had been going harder on the pec day, and when he wiggled his pecs for the crowd, it was almost obscene. But there was a lot of muscle to highlight on el cachas. Abs. Beefy biceps. Boulder shoulders. Giant legs. There was a good reason why many spellbreakers actually wanted to get put into submission holds by the Warrior of Love.
El Amante took his time doing his dance for his adoring crowd. Hips isolated, arms over head, he thrusted in slow, grinding, circular motions, as if he was seducing the whole arena.
Spike gulped. "Hard?" he asked Iggy, without looking at them.
"...Yeah."
Spike sighed. "Same."
After bowing to the ref, and giving him a small kiss on the cheek (nearly making the handsome, Thani man faint) El Amante took the microphone. Usually, Luchadors were men and women of few words. That never stopped El Amante, for whom 'too much' was never enough.
Deep voiced, with a sensual, smoky accent, El Amante greeted his crowd. "Hello, Thailand!"
Cheers, sighs, and even a few sexual moans, ensued.
"Oh wow. You are all so beautiful." El Amante, however, took a moment too long to notice the strange, glowing symbol slowly burning its way into the canvas. "Huh? This is..."
Miss Khanom Chan, distracted by El Amante's sexy dance, suddenly snapped back to reality. She cleared her throat. "That's right, folks, you're seeing a summoning sygil! Foreign guests, we do it a little different here in Thailand, as you're about to find out. Introducing El Amante's opponent, all the way from the distant realms of the Prakhai...Khemalitzli."
El Amante stood back, holding his massive arms up to the burst of flame and light that came from the summoning sygil. A shadow appeared in the light, slowly taking material form. The handsome warrior that stood before the luchador was mostly human in appearence, save for his golden hair and simian-like tail, that swung from behind him.
The unusual and attractive warrior put their knuckles together and stared defiantly at his opponent. "Hm!"
In the audience, Spike turned his head incredulously towards Iggy. "He's...a Beastman?" He had heard the phrase before. Anthropomorphic beings from other realms, other worlds (life has gotten a little weird for the spellbreakers lately).
Iggy, full of wisdom, searched their brain index for an answer. "Hmmm. I think he might be something else."
El Amante was initially taken aback by the warrior's odd appearance, but now he was intrigued. He circled his opponent. "Beautiful muscles, my handsome friend," El Amante growled. He winked. "But can you put them to use, I wonder?" Interesting, El Amante thought, there is something almost Aztec about his outfit!
Khemalitzli was far from intimidated by the masked muscle man. "Ah, now you are quite the human," he said in a rich, almost musical voice.
El Amante sized him up. He was playful, but strong. "And here I thought I was the only stud with a nice tail here." He licked his lips. "You're going to be fun to dominate."
"Dominate!?" the monkey warrior laughed, as if it was the most absurd suggestion in the world. "Well, you should see what my tail can do, pretty one!" Taking a more serious tone, he pounded his fist against his chest. "I AM THE GREAT KHEMALITZLI! I am warrior of people. You wanted a fight? You're gonna get one!"
"Now that's a pickup line!" El Amante growled, getting into fighting stance, muscles bulging (and not just muscles either). He's lucky I always wear my thong to hide my true 'power'. He's turning me on!
The bell rang, and the two fighters wasted no time locking up. Though they both confidently grinned, their eyes narrowed like two predators locked in a struggle for territory. Hand met giant bicep, each fighter pushing and pulling against each other.
Stronger than he looks, El Amant quietly admitted. This was getting fun! Then, they noticed something odd. It took them a second before they picked up on it.
El Amante let his confident demeanour drop, for but a moment. "You...you have no magick!"
Khemalitzli sneered, pushing back against the brawny man's might. "Hmph! I don't need magick, masked man!" Suddenly, his eyes flashed gold. "I HAVE POWER!"
The monkey man used the momentum of El Amante's force to push him back, and wasted no time pivoting and roundhouse kicking the luchador stud right in the chest. The Mexican powerhouse was over 250 pounds, but he sailed through the air as if he'd been struck by a cannon ball!
The audience gasped. As did Spike. "Oh shit, he's strong!"
Normally cool, collected, and cocky, Iggy's eyes bugged out. He said nothing, however. They'd seen their boy in tougher scrapes before. He was made of strong stuff.
El Amante reeled back into the ropes, shaking off the blow. Even the ref felt it necessary to run to their side. But the luchador regained their posture. "What a love tap!" he said. "I like a man who packs a punch."
"You haven't seen anything yet!" Khemalitzli shouted as he JUMPED into the air with acrobatic grace, both feet landing (perfectly balanced) on the top rope. The audience reacted with shock and awe.
El Amante glared. He wasn't about to be outdone, and now this monkey idiot was starting to get too cocky for his lucky. The sweaty luchador spit on the canvas, gritted his teeth, and made a 'come-and-get-it" motion with his hand. He'd pluck that acrobatic fool right out of the air and body slam his brains out!
Khemalitzli jumped from the ropes, somersaulting in mid-air. The precision and flow was remarkable. Even El Amante, no strange to high flying was duly impressed! Even more so when Khemalitzli switched things up and turned his dive into a kick instead!
Boot met masked head. El Amante went sailing back, knocked absolutely senseless.
Iggy balled their hands up into fists. "Come on, guapo. Enough monkey business!"
El Amant turned and spat blood onto the canvas, heaving, but not down for the count. The crowd was stunned that he was even able to stand. So was Khemalitzli.
"No bad, my monkey amigo." El Amante's eyes glowed violet. The mood in the ring changed. "I think perhaps your energy needs to come down a knotch. Why skip the foreplay?"
The monkey warrior was ready to give El Amante another one, this time to his square-cut jaw, and settle this quick, but he was hit by the spellbreaker's unusual aura. The fight wasn't taken out of him, not entirely, but he felt less hot blooded. Calmer.
It was all El Amante needed to act. He grit down on the pain to his skull and pivoted around Khemalitzli grabbing him around the waist. Before the warrior from another world could react, the luchador reached down and cupped a handful of his ass, tail included.
"HEY!" the suddenly embarrassed monkey yelped. He tried to pull away, but it was the exact reaction El Amante was looking for. He booted the monkey in the butt and knocked him into the canvas, trapping his tail between his legs.
The beefy, masked man began to stroke the warrior's tail suggestively, making it almost erect. "Oooh, he went hard, everyone!" He pointed and laughed. "Did you see that!?"
The audience reeled back, enjoying the warrior's humiliation. Red face and angry, the warrior finally yanked his tail away and got back onto his feet...not knowing that El Amante's 'love venom' had slowly begun to take effect.
Khemalitzli was shaken, but he wasn't done. "You will pay for that!" he snarled.
"Oh, will I?" came El Amante's response, he bounced off the ropes, quicker than the (now slower) Khemalitzli could follow, delivering a stunning, stuff lariat to the monkey king's sternum.
CRACK!
Even Iggy, out in the audience, felt that one! But while Spike winced empathetically at the searing strike, the more sadistic Iggy Astro grinned. "My hunk hits like a truck! Looks like monkey met is about to be on the menu!"
The blow knocked Khemalitzli to the canvas, and nearly took him out. The ref went to their knees in anticipation, and it was a good thing too...because El Amante was already setting up his next move.
El Amante brought their elbow down hard on Khemalitzli's stomach, knocking whatever wind was left inside them! He didn't got for pin, however. Instead, he took the opportunity to grab and twist the proud warrior's nipples.
"GET OFF!" Khemalitzli managed to squeak. Ooh, that feels good.
"So rude!" the luchador tut-tutted, yanking the warrior onto his back and setting him up for a dragon sleeper. The luchador shoved the monkey king's face into his sweaty, cologne-coated pits, forcing a masculine, domininant aroma into the stunned warrior's open mouth and nose.
Oxygen and blood flow restricted, the Khemalitzli couldn't help but take big gasps of air...each time, inhaling the intoxicating the luchador's pungent scent. He choked and sputtered, but inside, he was turned on.
"How do you like my masculine scent?" El Amant laughed, grinding his armpit and chest into Khemalitzli's handsome face.
"MMmmmmm!"
"What was that," El Amante asked, blowing a kiss to the ref. "Is that a 'mi rindo'? Eh? You already smell like me now, so I guess that's makes you mine!"
Khemalitzli managed to summon their spectacular strength and pull away, gasping for fresh air. It was no use though. They were covered completely in their opponent's aroma. It was a humiliation of the highest order. One Khemalitzli would not soon forgive. To make matters worse for him, El Amante's pheromones had taken their toll, giving the warrior an unwitting erection that wasn't about to go down any time soon. For days to come, the lingering scent would make Khemalitzli instantly hard. How embarrassing and emasculating for a virile warrior!
Now, Khemalitzli and El Amante glared at each other from the other side of the arena, each fighter breathing heavily and dripping sweat onto the canvas. They were well matched, and it had proved an interesting fight.
But it was time to bring it to a close.
Khemalitzli and El Amante were like dancers in perfect time and rhythm. Each men, with a warrior's grace, turned and threw their momentum against the ropes, picking up more speed. Two runaway trains speeding towards each other, it looked like the Warrior Monkey might knock El Amante's head clean off his shoulders with a killer clothesline.
At the last second, El Amante ducked, avoiding the stiff forearm. He wrapped his giant arms around Khemalitzli's back, and clamped down in an iron grip. It was bear hug of monstrous proportions. El Amante's biceps bulged, veins popping, and back muscles rippling as he put all his muscle and all his magick into squeezing the life out of Khemalitzli.
Khemalitzli struggled to breathe. Their eyes bulged out of their skull, and their ribs creaked and groaned under the massive amount of pressure. Any lesser being would have been crushed into a messy pulp, but even the warrior from the other world was starting to break. On top of that, El Amante had pumped him full of his potent, seductive magick, so that Khemalitzli was aware of the pain, but not processing it, feeling an overwhelming pleasure instead.
El Amante knew what he was doing. This was too easy. He smirked at his opponent, whose face was contorting in a battle between pain and pleasure. "Yeah, you like it when papi holds you close, eh?" El Amante drove home the statement by slowly grinding his massive bulge against Khemalitzli's.
If the warrior were even capable of looking down, he'd see a wet spot begin to form. This wasn't good. He was either going to crush or blow first!
"What do you say?" the ref pleaded, reminded of several 'watermelon' demonstrations in which body builders had squeezed the pulpy fruit apart.
El Amante's slow, methodical grinding was so subtle that the ref couldn't even catch it. He looked into his opponent's blood shot eyes knowingly, as if to say, 'this is our little secret'.
"Kiss me and I'll let you go."
Khemalitzli was about to pass out, break, or bust. He had no choice. He closed his eyes and presented his mouth, giving it up, completely emasculated.
El Amante's lips found it. "Good little monkey," he whispered, letting his tongue and lips find his opponent's. It was like a completely different submission move. El Amante pumped his energy straight into Khemalitzli's mouth, forcing it down his throat and into his system. A double dose of love venom.
Whatever happened to Khemalitzli in that intimate moment, he would refuse to say for years to come, too embarrassed. But he found himself taken by the overwhelming pleasure and pain. His sensed couldn't cope. The last thing Khemalitzli thought was how defeated he felt, becoming a plaything for another man, as he slipped into sweet oblivion.
El Amante held the kiss a moment longer, even as the bell peeled and the ref began to break away. He couldn't help it! A handsome, muscle man had just passed out in his arms. The luchador gently lowered him to the canvas and leaned over, his stringy, sweaty hair falling in front of his chest and dangling teasingly over his defeated opponent. He placed both hands on the warrior's sweaty chest for the pin.
"Uno...do...tres..."
Victorious, and sexy, reggaeton music blaring, El Amante leaned over and gave his unconscious opponent a revitalizing kiss, bringing him back from the brink.
Khemalitzli's eyes fluttered open. He was delerious. That bear hug had beruttaly sapped him of all his strength. "Ughh...what happened?" He realized who the pair of soft, sultry, dark eyes belonged to and winced. "No..."
El Amante laughed and patted his opponent tenderly on the shoulder. "Afraid you lost, mi amor." He helped him off the ground, bringing him back onto his feet.
The luchador smiled magnanimously at his sullen, embarrassed opponent. He placed both his hands on Khemalitzli's shoulders. "But...that was exciting! You are very strong, my friend!"
Khemalitzli, angry, but gracious in defeat, scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, thanks."
Out in the audience, Iggy and Spike collectively wiped the nervous sweat from their brows...though really, there had been no doubt that their beloved fighter would come out on top. Miss Khanom Chan enthusiastically announced the winner of the fight, and summoned a rain of rose petals in El Amante's honor.
In the ring, El Amante grabbed the mic and proudly raised his opponent's arm. He had nothing but respect for him. "Hola thailand! How about a cheer for the two kings! King of Romance and King of Monkeys!
The audience cheered, and Khemalitzli, though still annoyed at his loss, warmly embraced his new friend.
"Though your amorous moves are deceptive and strong, luchador, none can deny you are worthy of the moniker Warrior of Love." He shook his hand, fondly.
El Amante gave the warrior a graceful and deeply respectful bow. "Human or not, love is universal. As is honor and respect. You were a great sport! You deserve an El Amante lap dance."
A sexy reggaeton beat came on over head, and a pink aura fell upon the ring. Khemalitzli, confused, suddenly found a beefy, sweaty, and amorous masked stud pick him up in the air and begin grinding on him against the turnbuckle.
Iggy rolled their eyes, ignoring Spike drooling at the masculine, erotic display. "Ugh...Viki...why?"
Red faced and slightly bewildered, Khemalitzli held on for dear life. "Erm...you humans do have such interesting rituals!"
Behind the floral mask, El Amante winked. "Just lay back and relax, stud. Let papi do his thing..."
The End
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