More Than Just a Sweet Tooth [Keita & Sten]
Sten gripped her ankle, feeling it slide a little out of his grip as she twisted and tightened his hand on it. It was a poor grab, but the iron-tight strength of his grip kept her in his grasp. As she continued to twist, Sten felt her ankle pop in his hand. Her face remained concentrated on getting away rather than the pain her ankle had to have been in. Sten gave her points for that. Then her free foot came up out of nowhere, kicking hard at his stomach.
Sten knew right then that she did, in fact, pack a punch. Or, rather, a kick. An aptly-placed kick. Idiots who were untrained tended to aim at the chest, where there was hard muscle and the even harder bones of the ribcage. Keita was not one of those idiots. He felt his breath leave him as he fell backwards. Somehow, miraculously, he kept ahold of her ankle, causing her to be pulled down with him. He barely felt her body fall on top of his, her tiny form causing less wind to be knocked out than her kick had. His body made for a poor cushion to fall upon, his body a lot more hard with muscles than his suit could have revealed to her.
He still had her ankle in hand when he felt her go limp. It was the wrong thing to do. Sten had been in far, far too many fights and battles to fall for such a thing anymore. If she were indeed incapacitated enough for her to lose all strength, he would deal with that after he had her pinned. So instead of her intended shock factor, he acted swiftly and strategically. He rolled over, causing her to fall off of him. He pulled the foot still in his grasp toward him as he got to his knees, put a hand at her waist and flipped her over, so that she was on her stomach, and finally let go of her ankle.
Two quick shuffles of his knees, left and then right, and he was sitting on her butt. He made a grab for both her wrists and after a small struggle he pulled her hands behind her, pressing them in to the small of her back. It wasn’t a proper hold, but he hoped it would do. She was too small for him to effectively lock her legs with his or do most of the holds he knew.
“Do you yield?” he growled at her.
Dread Wolf nip your ass Keita swore inwardly as her feint failed-- this was very much not what she wanted. Landing on him hadn't hurt, barely anything actually hurt, though her ankle throbbed as warning it wouldn't support her weight much at all. Him on top of her, however, was going to be rather difficult to get out of.
She snorted, wiggling around just enough to try and find any possible weak points in his hold. "I presume that was a rather terrible joke," she bucked under him and grimanced to herself. It was not a very good hold, nor particularly proper, but firm nonetheless. She was probably smaller than he was used to, but he was heavy. Which was an annoying problem.
If he was not so damnably tall himself, she might've been able to hook her legs around his neck and unsettle his balance on her, if nothing else. Though with her ankle as it was, that sort of flexibility and strength seemed unlikely to be successful. Much as the realization grated, Keita was not certain there was anything she could really do. She'd underestimated his intelligence, put too much stock into the kick and feint, and was now left with little else to do but admit it
"Joke or not, however, my remaining options will likely only result in serious injury to one or both of us, humiliation in trying to get ou from under you, and most certainly both of us being late to what I presume to be our respective places of employment." Keita sighed and ceased her movement, letting her head drop. She would not strain her neck to make the attempt to look at him as she conceded-- it would just end up being ridiculous. "You have won this bout, qunari. I underestimated the depth of your skill."



















