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10-03-2015, 04:04 AM
He grunts, a deep primal sound in the face of such a lovely clearing, as his massive hoof makes contact with something. Though it his not his intended target— no, it collides with his own gods-damned leg. Another swath of skin opens on the elephant, this time on the inside of his hind left cannon bone. Luckily, only the skin breaks open, leaving the superficial tissues intact to cover the bone’s surface. But he certainly was going to feel that bone bruise tomorrow. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been so busy ogling Nyx’s pale, hard hind-end as it swept past him, he could have better paid attention to where his hooves were flying. The pain from the wound Nyx had gouged in his flank had also thrown off the proprioception of his haunches. He snorts, beyond annoyed with himself. What was he, a yearling colt sparring against his first woman? Ears pinned, though a hard smile cuts through the irritation in his face at her jesting words. “I’d hardly mistake you for a virgin,” his voice is rougher now, as his eyes briefly meet hers— seeing the black pupils dilate with desire against the icy blue irises. His fiery anger (that he had fanned into a flame in order to fight this mare) became instantly distracted by her eyes. By her words. By her clear visceral reaction to the bloodlust and wanton intensity that erupted in the clearing between the two sweaty (now bleeding) bodies. Now his mind, which had fully embraced the duel, was shouting at his distracted muscles. It seemed the giant’s head and body could not get on the same page today. This is why you don’t fight while distracted, the angry, distracted, thoughts flash through his skull. Though, perhaps this fight was his distraction. His distraction from the emotional pain he had felt just moments before. Indeed, the physical ache from his leg and burn from his side were somewhat welcome. But, as these realizes clamor through his head and as his body responds to the desire in Nyx’s athletic frame, he finds himself unguarded against her next attack. Though, luckily, this one does not draw more blood. Her momentum crashes her chest against his bleeding side, forcing a rough snort out of his thick nostrils as she compresses his lung space. He can feel the bruise spread across his ribs, beneath the already open flesh. That will be sore tomorrow. He takes a half step left with his forelegs, to keep himself from tumbling into the water. His hoof splashes in the shallows as he brings their colliding bodies to the water’s edge. His jaw flexes and his teeth grit in a smile as her teeth hit their mark on his thick withers— a firmly bruising love bite to add his collection of scrapes from this fight. “Though, if you always fight like this, perhaps you are a virgin,” he voice rumbles, impressed, from his barrel as he continues from his earlier comment. Though now they are in close quarters, her breast smashed against his broad side. He neck reaching to his withers, exposing one of the few delicate expanses of flesh on the warrior. Though he wants to bring his right hind leg and firmly knock it against the slender legs of the mare, the wound she had opened on his flank limits both the range and strength of that leg. So arches his neck, tucks his chin, and assesses the mare with his glittering right eye. Snaking his thick neck to the right, he opens his large jowls. Pearly white teeth bared, he stretches for the underside of her neck, aiming to bite just above where her pale skin is flush against his buckskin. Though the force behind his teeth is not enough to break the skin, for this is meant as a handle to keep her in place while he swings his haunches nearly half turn to the left. While his mobility to the right his impaired, it is clearly fine to the left. His movements bring a spray of water as his hind end lands and bunches. He ignores the sharp pain that shoots through his bruised left leg as his hooves crash against the watery ground. He hopes, as he now faces her head on, that the lack of his mass to support her chest will bring her tumbling forward. Perhaps a vain hope, as she is an agile mare (he notes with appreciation). Regardless, he launches his weight— lacking its usual momentum in such close quarters— to bring his right shoulder crashing into her right side. He angles his horn down, perhaps to nick her flesh in his attack. It wouldn’t be fair for only one of them to be bleeding. WC: 793 SUMMARY: Hits his own back leg when he tries to kick her from the last attack. She hits her chest against his bleeding side and bites his withers, both bruising/worsening his previous wounds. He aims to bite the underside of her neck to hold her in place and pivots on his forehand about half turn to the left. They would be almost facing each other, him offset to her right. He launches against her, hoping to ram his right shoulder into her right side/shoulder. |
- table by Niki -
@Nyx
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