Meadow

Solomon

It is intoxicating to be this close to her, to feel the slender shape of her barrel against his own as she breathes and to drink in the heady scent of her. He was not so oblivious to miss her small buck of protest as he drew close, and found himself thankful for their proximity. Given much more space and he was certain that she would have been glad to remove his manhood from use for the rest of the season. The spice in her personality only added to her allure, for he was not so blind to miss the way her breath hitched as his own had, or the way that her skin shivered as he drew near.

She could pretend all that she wanted, but she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Soundly she denounces him as a gentleman and his wicked grin widens in affirmation, for he was assuredly no gentleman. A chuckle rumbles from him as she vouches for her own innocence and he shakes his head in disagreement. With a movement made lazy by confidence, he stretches to place his muzzle next to her ear to offer in a tone made husky with desire, "wishful thinking does not innocence mak--."

His tone is cut off by her sudden grasp of his flesh and he squeals in response, his dark-rimmed ears pinning beneath the amber strands of his mane. Arrogantly his head shakes, but as soon as she bites, she relents and he blows a heated breath against the top of her neck. Adrenaline rushes to his system, and it takes all of his self-control to not retaliate in a way that will be most pleasing to him, if not to her. The animalistic savagery of it should have made him rethink his decision to approach. As the old adage said, you shouldn't stick your dick in crazy, but they never mentioned how hot crazy could be. His coat shivers against her as she begins to caress the wound that she made with her tongue, and he buries the harsh breaths that he takes into the swirls of her silver mane.

Objectively, he has faced far worse pain. But combined with the exquisite torture of her ripe figure at his side and her lips on his body, and she might as well be slowly skinning him.

As she withdraws from him, his own gaze matches hers in intensity and his lips curl at her taunting. "Perhaps I should doubt more of you, then Sabriel." Brazenly, he reaches out to lip at an errant strand of her mane. "Test out just how much I can get away with."

She moved away from him, speaking tauntingly about those who might bear witness to her succumbing to his influence once more. Once more his eyes darken with desire as she reaches for him, brushing a gentle caress across his cheek, her words a gentle whisper against his skin. It would be far too easy to lose himself in the way she says his name, he thinks. There is something about this mare that he has yet to encounter elsewhere across the isles and he finds that he cannot get enough of her.

She baits him with a game of chase, and he is all too willing to participate. As she steps away, taunting him with a slash of her silver tail across his barrel, he reaches out to grasp her flank with his teeth before she is out of range.

"I desire a great number of things, your capture being one of them." He calls out to her as she begins to distance herself from him, his voice dropping to growl barely audibly for the next. "Your submission being next."

He follows, slowly at first, allowing her to put space between them, if only so that coming upon her once more may be even more rewarding. She slips past another mare and her ardent suitor, and then darts into the trees. He follows at her speed, admiring the way that her dark legs find nimble purchase as she dashes along the creekside. The further they get from the other entwined pair, the faster he follows until at last her sleek form is once again within reach. And reach he does, lunging forward to score his teeth against her opposite side, only to be rewarded with a kick of her heels.

Solomon brakes to avoid the worst of it, although her hooves leave a stinging reminder of the dangerous game she wanted to play. It gives the silvered mare just enough time to duck behind the curtain of branches and he follows with a lunge, barrelling through the branches a moment behind her. Momentum carries him to her side, and while he considers stopping to stare, he opts instead to allow his stride to place him at her side.

"Caught you, little mouse," He says as he enters her grove. Instinct sings in his blood, heightened by her savagery and the game of cat and mouse, demanding that he raise himself atop her and take her as his own in the most primal way he can manage. And he wants to. More than he wants to breathe he wants to lose himself within the vicious little mare, but he holds off. Her defiance has been the challenge all along, and the only thing he can think that will bring him more satisfaction than her body is her submission to him.

Without stopping, he moves to her side and reaches with teeth bared to grasp the point of her withers as he might a stallion he wanted to take down, or a lover he wanted to hold in place. Bodily he shoves against her with his shoulder, his own ears pinning against his poll. Solomon relents after a few moments to rake his teeth in small nips down the side of her ribs.

"For someone protesting their innocence," he says huskily, his breath short. Arrogantly he shifts to leave his head atop her hindquarters, his gaze wicked as he looks at her. "You certainly know this game well."

Again, he scrapes his blunt teeth down the line of her back slowly, almost as though daring her to move away from him again. It is not that he asks for her permission, not really. He will have her one way or another before the day is over, but he wants her to want it just as badly as he does. He wants her to crave the feel of his body with the same passion that makes him want to grit his teeth when he isn't touching her. He wants her to cave to him.

But what he wants, is not always what he will get.

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