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Jaws slip into a wolf's smile, and his dragons coil and twist in the air as his emotions radiate to them. They feel everything he feels, every throbbing pulse of desire that burrows through his body and settles into his stomach, each twitch of fevered flesh, each flare of a nostril to inhale the intoxicating scent of woman. The red, male like Volterra, understands the emotions that burn through his bonded - he has been there to see them flourish, to see the boy turn into a man. The golden queen, on the other hand, has not experienced this very often. His emotions are quite foreign to her, and her decidedly feminine presence roots around in his brain to catalogue his feelings. Her invasive presence jars, but he forces it aside. He has other things to focus on. The purple-hued mare speaks, and Volterra's eyes ravish every delicious inch of her body. "Hmmm. I cannot simply take your word for that." And he strides forward, assertive, powerful, a predator in black furs. He towers over her, and doesn't he just know it, devouring her with his gaze and ominous, skull-wearing menace. He lowers his massive head, sniffing her sumptous black flesh, and the fleshy pink of his tongue darts out to try and taste her shoulder. He presses forwards, aiming to touch his massive chest to her as well, nostrils as wide as caves as they inhale every billowing stream of scent. His heart races, blood afire, but he doesn't get his hopes up just yet; many women are content to tease, until they realise they're taunting a monster. HEROES ALWAYS GET REMEMBERED BUT YOU KNOW LEGENDS NEVER DIE |
@Zandora
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
