He is surprised by the defeated submission Nyx meets his approach with. Her averted gaze and demure silence goad the stirring muscles into happy action in the base of his barrel (he is her alpha, after all)— but it also unsettles something in the recesses of his mind. This is an echo of his past. A distorted reminder of what he had been before he came here.

But there was not false pretense here. Both mare and stallion sparred equally, neither was the manipulator or manipulatee. So it is but a faint, inaccurate imitation. Thus, his misgivings are easily trumped by her sharp intake of breath and throaty rumble of pleasure. A rough chuckle vibrates his barrel at her words (much to the misfortune of his rib). “This has certainly not been boring, Nyx,” he half-agrees with her. He does not want to think of monogamy now that the hot-blooded stallion is so keen to test her strength. Can she withstand the the elephant she has teased and provoked into arousal?

“Stallions.” The plurality at the end of the word irks him. He cannot help it. Even though he has no claim on this wanton warrior— he does not wish to think of the other studs how have walked this path before him. So, instead, he again unleashes his teeth. First gently nipping on her bruise as she boldly meets his eyes with her taunting words. Then roughly tugging her tail in answer to her question. “I think the question is if your hind can handle ‘getting some D’,” his voice is rough, growling with dark humor as he mimics her choice of vocabulary.

The carnal craving that thickened and heated his blood diverted his mind away from the aches of his right side. He didn’t feel the broken bone, bruised muscle, or gouged skin. He felt only the salacious need for this mare. The need that was had been whipped into a frenzy by their duel. And continued to grow in the face of such a striking, worthy adversary amid the pheromones in the grove.

He moved then, in an abrupt splash of icy water that did nothing to the raging heat of mare and stallion.

—bow chicka wowow—

He lands heavily on his hooves beside her, another spray of icy water that served to cool their legs and underbellies. The glen is silent now, oppressively so. Lacking the lust that had driven his motions, words, and even attacks, uncertainty began to settle into the elephantine stud.

An ear flicked and an eye glanced sideways towards her. What now? There was no need (or want?) for caresses or affectionate words. The spar was won. The deed was done.

In the aftermath of such vigorous exercise atop Nyx, his right side began to ache acutely. Biting thoughts poisonously think he deserves the pain radiating through his chest. He grits his teeth against it, muscle leaping in the broad expanse of his jaw.

“I’ll head back to the Edge, now. I think I’m to meet Mauja about glass spikes…” his low voice trails off, realizing that this information is unnecessary. Nyx does not need to know his plans or meetings. A small, unsettled sigh escapes him. Though, despite speaking of departure, he lingers, legs not fully committed to leave the athletic warrior just yet.