Common

Solomon

He felt the way she leaned into him, and it only fed into desire to make her his own. The need to make her his own runs rampant and a wicked grin steals onto his charcoal lips. She reminds his of the spotted mare he'd spent the night with, and her confidence taps all the right buttons. His nostrils flare as she slinks alongside him, the caress of her skin against his own tantalizing.

He can't help but to run his own lips over the curves of her body, the sleek line of her back, curving down the line of her hindquarter. It is only the sound of galloping hooves that makes him break away from his investigation of her charms, and his ears immediately pin at the interruption. This was the commons, of course, but it didn't take a genius to see that she was not opposed to his attention.

Solomon pulls himself upward with ears pinned, though he does not immediately move. He has a beautiful girl literally on his arm after all. She though, does not appear to be daunted by the newcomer. His gaze tracks her as she pulls away from him, and he can feel the shock of the cool fall air where only moments ago the heated press of her skin had been. He would have her back.

He snorts derisively at Raider's little bucking display. He looks like a foal offering to kick it's dam in play, knowing that if he were to actually strike out, there would be hell to pay. Sol has every intention of running the foolish stallion off when the first chance presents itself.

A nasty chuckle ripples it's way up from the tobiano at the roan's commentary, but he can hardly get comfortable as he watches the girl - his girl - rub up against the roan. His ears disappear further into his mane as he watches it, resisting the call in his blood to rush forward and stop her from teasing him. For that is all this is. Raider may have given her the illusion of a choice, but it is a choice that has already been made. For Solomon, his ownership of the palomino was solidified as soon as she returned his caress.

The rest of this paltry display was just a long, drawn out version of foreplay.

The grullo was oddly enough familiar, in a way, though he still did not know his name. Solomon had wondered if he would run into him again after having watched him escort away the buckskin a short time ago. He hadn't seemed like a Prince Charming type then, and so he doubted that the pony stallion was here on a chivalrous mission this time. Likely, he'd scented the blood in the water from the roan blue balling him and had sauntered over to make his ploy.

Annoying, but something Solomon would do himself so he'd give it a pass for now.

"As have you. How's the little buckskin you chased home?" He offers the question after looking away from the pony and back to the elegant creature at hand. It was petty of him, perhaps, to point out that the grullo was no saviour either, but he felt no compunction about it. To be honest, he doubted it would change the mare's decision, one way or the other considering how she had reacted to Sol's claim upon her velvet skin. Still, he wasn't about to leave without giving it his best shot.

The need to have her was just as strong as before, stoked by the nearness of the other males. It's not helped by the way she teases them, and he follows the lift o her tail, the caress of her mane as it slides down her neck. He knows the feel of her skin, and he longs to have it again.

"That's implying you haven't already made your choice, Marzanna." He doesn't hide that he is annoyed at these turns of the situation. Why must they add needlessly complicated layers to what was already a simple situation? Her name is husky on his lips. "Do you always toy with your meal before you eat it?"

Amusement works its way onto his lips again. "A home, I believe, is standard fare here. Whether you populate it with a cache of stallions too inept to earn their own herds, ponies, or myself is your choice. I'd much rather continue what we started back in the Cove."

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove