I’ve let a little distance grow between me and Thunder’s Arena lately. It’s not about the wrestling. It’s the business side of things. Thunder’s appears to have done an upgrade and relaunch of their membership site in the last year, but I kept getting billed for the defunct membership site that stopped getting updates months ago. For the most part, I sign up for membership sites for the photos to use in reviews here at neverland. So getting caught in an expensive new-and-improved loop of obsolescence left a vaguely bad taste in my mouth, and I just haven’t been paying attention to Thunder’s for a while as a result. The exact same thing happened to my relationship with Can-Am a while back.
I don’t know if Mr. Mike noticed the drift, but I unexpectedly received some gifts from Thunder’s a couple of weeks ago. It’s not like I’m NOT going to watch a couple of sensationally sexy looking hunks in minuscule gear throw each other around. And truth be told, reading Joe’s reviews of relative newcomer Scrappy has, indeed, left me wanting to sample his goods. So I sat down an opened my first and earliest Christmas present this year: Halloween Havoc 2016 – Scrappy vs. Santiago.
Scrappy takes the initiative first, hoisting a flat footed Santiago up into a standing full nelson. The effect is stunning and sets an expansive table for what we’re supposed to see in this match. Santagio, stretched out and flung from side to side, is magnificent to watch. He’s delicious, all tanned, tatted, high and tight with a closely cropped beard. There’s something about his blue briefs that give me a nostalgic hit of my youth. They remind me strongly of the first time I got naked with another man, he in his height of fashion Calvin Kleins. Like that that hot, sexy, fumbling young beauty from way back, Santiago’s cotton briefs are tight, but not suction packed. They hug his bulges without squeezing. They scream 80’s gay hook up to me in that way that turns me on with just the gentlest note of melancholy for brighter days. When Scrappy leans way back and lifts Santiago off his feet, the camera centered like a laser beam on Santiago’s bouncing crotch, I’m already fully engaged, identifying with Scrappy, and feeling that passionate excitement about the promise of getting to see and feel another man’s cock.
The match is a mix of intensity and lack of focus. On the one hand, these boys work up a legitimate sweat. They are lifting and slamming each other, audibly pounding the air out of each other’s lungs in that way you just can’t quite fake. It’s a lot of catch and release, but the catches are held long and linger beautifully on the fully flexed, gritted teeth edge of muscle matching muscle. But, as I’ve said, it is catch and release. There isn’t a clear end in sight. The lack of context and the relatively lackadaisical approach to focusing with any particular interest on pins or submissions makes this feel just a little more like a photo shoot than a wrestling match at times. Scrappy and Santiago do a sensational job of generously framing each other’s gorgeous, hot bodies for the camera. But I’m not always certain what the fuck Santiago is doing there, in particular, other than looking so, so, so pretty.
What heat is generated is repeatedly sparked to life by Scrappy. He has that alluring quality of standing next to a man who is, arguably, more classically pretty, more symmetrical, taller, longer, harder, but that sparkle in Scrappy’s eyes and that eager, expansive grin across his face make poor Santiago blur into the background. Whereas Santiago is oddly quiet, Scrappy narrates on occasion like the cocky top dog. “Try to get out of there,” he taunts, squeezing his opponent’s hips between his pale, powerful thighs. “You can’t get out,” he smirks.
Santiago occasionally rises to the occasion, however. He does, indeed, muscle his way out of those scissors, and suddenly it’s his turn to show off Scrappy’s hot body like the prize calf at the county fair. He squeezes the boy wonder’s body between his dark thighs, flexing and growling, leaning in a stroking, kneading Scrappy’s marquee pecs.
Occasionally I get the impression that these boys genuinely enjoy each other’s bodies, for which I’m incredibly turned on. Scrappy does latch on some nasty pec claws late in the game, but most of the match, both of them afford more a “fondling” attention to each other’s chests. There’s a faint hit of what could have been muscle worship here and there, with each stud taking turns cupping and caressing each other’s bulging pecs. Particularly Scrappy seems to be silently exploiting the intimacy. When he’s staring up at a crowing, flexing, humiliating schoolboy pin underneath his opponent, Scrappy just reaches up and drags the palms of his hands up and down the deep crevices etched in Santiago’s ripped torso. When he’s back in the driver’s seat, late in the game, Scrappy latches on a deep, grinding chokehold with one hand and delicately cups his free hand across the bulging mountain of Santiago’s right pec. There’s no strategic advantage. It’s something less than explicitly erotic. But it’s crazy provocative and somehow almost tender, which instantly skyrockets the homoeroticism for me.
A few other catch and release holds stand out. Santiago’s cock pillow headscissors are intensely intimate. It’s not just the super close up camera angle peering down the ridged length of Santiago’s torso to get his view of his opponent’s head trapped helplessly between his inner thighs. More than that, it’s Santiago grabbing Scrapper by the chin and pulling back, while thrusting his hips forward, crushing his cock against the back of Scrappy’s head. If, on release, we’d seen Santiago’s erect cock head stretched and staining those now sagging cotton briefs, I’d be ready to nominate him a shocking HWOTM. But, alas.
On Santiago’s side of the equation, I also get a little overheated when he quite literally takes his left hand and slams Scrappy to the mat by his throat. It’s violent. It’s a straightforward throttling. There’s a slight hit of angry frustration in it, demonstrating that he could, if pressed, dive headlong into seriously high jeopardy street fighting. But it’s just a hint. Catch and release.
But the marquee player here is Scrappy. His series of bearhug variations probably are intended to show off Santiago’s gorgeous physique, which they do, but Scrappy fucking sells it like a mother fucker. “You think you’re stronger than me!?” he demands mid bearhug at one point, pissed at his opponent using sheer muscle to power his way out of the last hold. “I don’t think so!” Scrappy crows, and no shit, his arms flex huge as he hoists the pretty boy off his feet and shakes him like a rag doll. I bet Santiago did think he was stronger than Scrappy. And, no shit, Scrappy disproves that misperception commandingly.
Before the match is half over, this is all about Scrappy for me. After gut wrenching the bigger man upside down and slamming Santiago’s head into the mat repeatedly, Scrappy returns the favor from earlier by flashing his magnificently peaked biceps in the stunned stud’s face. When Santiago drags himself up to his hands and knees, Scrappy slaps that ass hard, laughing. “You best stay down,” he taunts with a rural, mid-South twang. “I don’t know if you can handle it,” he smirks, even as he’s absent-mindedly, excitedly grabbing his cock through his briefs and tugging hard.
In the end, this match satisfies on the weight of two last pieces of evidence. One, Santiago grabs Scrappy’s ass on a couple of occasions. Now, I’m not talking about incidental contact. This isn’t grabbing a strategic handhold in order to lift and carry, for example. No, for no other apparent reason than Scrappy’s ass is just that fucking sensational, Santiago digs his fingers into this kid’s lush left cheek and just holds that magnificent muscle for a second. Fuck, yes, that needed to happen.
And finally, out of nowhere, Scrappy sleepers the pretty boy out cold. It wasn’t always particularly competitive, but watching Scrappy’s adorable face morph into the biggest, toothiest, proudest sexy smile I’ve seen in a long time, I rewrite the entire 20 minutes to be, in retrospect, about bragging rights and victory. His mouth hangs open in delight, flexing, staring into the camera as he crows. “Scrappy got a win today, boys! Scrappy got a ‘W’!” And for acknowledging us “boys” watching, and for referring to himself in the 3rd person, and for making me believe that he’s genuinely pleased to score a victory, I’m both rewinding to watch some favorite moments again, and convinced that I am a big, big Scrappy fan.