He doesn't think beyond the most simple terms.
Bite. Clench. Rip. Tear. Dodge. Bite, again, harder. Clench, tighter. Rip, farther.
He doesn't try and rationalize the fight, or strategize. Fury had clouded his vision and stolen reason from his movements. There is no careful positioning or holding back to set up an advantageous strike, only rage. The exact style of fighting his sire had lectured his sons to avoid. The kind that got you into trouble and lost you wars.
Their shoulders collided with a heavy thud, his teeth presumably skimming up the hard ridge of her shoulderblade as she neared him. He twisted in much the same fashion that she did, keeping the curve of his ribcage against hers so that they were in constant contact. Her teeth were vicious, and he could feel his skin parting in red furrows beneath her abuse, the air already becoming tainted with crimson.
He aimed to do the same at first, his head twisting and teeth snapping on what he hoped was the tender flesh at her flank first, and then with a hard-won step forward, her gaskin next. Had he possessed a clearer mind, he might have aimed lower for the delicate legs that held the vicious beauty aloft, but the longer he fought, the more Rehoboam found himself losing the plot.
Reason, rationale, purpose. All of it blurred together, growing shapeless and undefined as he sought retribution for Nyimara's crimes. Not against the world, which seemed very far away right now, but against him. She'd stolen his pride and his freedom, and now sought to threaten both family and legacy. She was taking everything he had managed to carve out for himself in this world and forcing him to pay for the things that he'd never asked for.
It wasn't fair.
She wasn't fair.
He wouldn't be fair anymore either.
He pushed closer to her, his dark-rimmed ears pinned tightly to the nape of his neck as he sought to escape the punishing strikes of her teeth by dragging the length of his body against her own. She scored hit after hit against his flesh and he snarled in defiance, his head rising over her hip as he paused his own biting to try and swing his rump away from her.
He didn't remember making the conscious decision to change the tone of the moment. It wasn't the mutual capitulation he had earned from his scuffles with Celestine and Shenzi and Titania, a meeting of the minds once they'd worked out their problems in battle. Rather, it was a continuation of their struggle, a shift of the battlefield rather than a definitive conclusion. Given a sound mind and a bit of space, Rehoboam would have never considered it. Nyimara was dangerous. She was vicious and cruel and crazy. As like to kill a link between them as she was to raise it.
The last mare on this goddamned planet that he would
want to tie his life to. But in the moment, all he could think was that if she wanted one of his children, she could fucking have it herself.
His silvery jaw slid up and over the curve of her hipbones, teeth raking over her toned skin, giving warning of his intent. Even at his worst, Rehoboam hesitated, unwilling to steal her freedom despite the demon on his shoulder screaming that it would only be fair play. That she had stolen his autonomy from him, his pride, and now threatened both his family on the isles and the family that was soon to be.
She deserved nothing but cruelty.
But despite all of his bluffing, Reh was not cruel. Not truly.
He was still just a young man, trying to find his place in the world and taking all of the wrong steps first.