A/N: w00t! 829 words, a whole 13 words longer than the Emelan SFF! CC is always nice

Genre: SFF-y romance

Warning: Thayet/Yuki slash, blatant sexual references, dominatrix complexes. If you don't like any of this, please hit the Back button.

Dedication: To Dene; you're so nice for teaching me how to code

Rating: R

Skilled

Speed. Agility. Endurance. Focus. To master the Yamani glaive, one needed all four of these traits, and that one little extra something which one needed to win the fight.

I. Speed

Thayet had enough of it. Just enough to keep up with her partner, both on the hot, sweaty practice court during the day and the hot sweaty bedroom at night. If the glaive sliced to her left, Thayet needed to defend herself quicker than Yuki could lunge and finish the sideways sweep. She could almost always do this. All during the sparring, the two ladies danced swiftly, skittering here and there, raising puffs of dust in their wake.

At night, it was that same dance, to see who would be quick enough with their wits and win. If Yuki touched here, Thayet would need to kiss there before she lost herself too far into the caress.

II. Agility

With speed, one needed litheness. One cannot dodge an incoming blow if one cannot bend her body with ease. A twist of the lower back with bent knees and Thayet could spring right back with a ready strike. Yuki's eyes would answer that challenge, even as her able feet pattered in the dust, raising it in swirls around that limber, leaning body. Hot, gasping breaths accompanied those bends and arches of that plump body Thayet knew so well.

Hours later, those gasps would ring in the Queen's ears again, even as that supple frametwisted and writhed and arched and bent into so many positions. Sometimes Thayet wondered if Yuki tested those new positions in bed to ensure their aptitude before using them in their contests the next morning. And it was always those same pants, morning and night; they almost never spoke, both on and off the practice fields, letting heaving breaths and agile movements speak instead. Always that same, quickened, heavy inhale and the even breathier exhale that would drift across bare skin, making Thayet shiver.

III. Endurance

And even as the fight drew closer to its end, the gulps of air both took would come harder, faster, more desperately while bodies labored under the strain. Neither would give in. It was a game: Who could last longer, with the sharp glare of the sun bearing down upon their backs and dusty practice clothing sticking to their sweating bodies? Yuki was strong, and had more years of experience, but Thayet liked dominating; she wanted to win. And even as their dance slowed and their frames grew fatigued, the game kept on.

With the ache from the morning and the night's strains growing in their bodies, neither Thayet nor Yuki could surrender, not when both were so close to the end. Salty perspiration dripped and slicked their bodies, soaking the sheets so that the sodden cloth clung and stuck to their skin. The longer it went on, the better the victory at the finish. Even when only one step from the end, Thayet never once thought of defeat. To give in was defeat, and so they held strong.

IV. Focus

Often, when the body is tired, the only thing that keeps a warrior going against her foe is her mind, her intense, focused need to win. Each would scrutinize the other's exhausted body, focusing on every salty drop of sweat to try and find a way to win. With blows becoming steadily feebler and bodies too weary to sidestep strikes any longer, one of them would muster up strength from the thought of victory and overpower the other with the sheer willpower of her mind.

Sometimes, a lapse in Thayet's concentration would betray her; perhaps a lustful, wandering eye would catch the curve of Yuki's hip through the film of soaked cloth. The Queen's mind would wander too far into the events that belonged to night. Next thing Thayet would know, she would be lying on her back, with Yuki's sweat dripping and mingling with her own. And with Thayet down and a deadly glaive pointed at her throat, it felt almost like Yuki had had her right there on the hard, dirty practice field.

"I win," those cracked lips would whisper in a hoarse, almost yearning voice. And always, those hot breaths wafting around, dizzyingly seductive.

Indeed, it was almost exactly the same at night, for it was new chance to prove the previous victory, or challenge the earlier loss. The fight always had to same intensity, the interwoven use of those four skills. Before the end, that intense focus on each line and curve on the tangled, toiling bodies. And at the very end, one of the pair had to finally acknowledge submission. Even as the gasps softened into the soft, deep sighs of sleep and the sweat dried, Thayet would smile and welcome the sparring she knew would come tomorrow morning as a preview, a promise of tomorrow night's struggle. The earnest anticipation the two shared always drove their bruised and tender bodies into the warm morning sun to continue their battle relentlessly.