Mare. He smells mare.

Each formidable muscle on his body immediately tenses, turning his powerful frame into an expanse of thrumming tension and hard, rippling lines. He throws his colossal head high and inhales, dragging in the beautiful, wonderful scent of woman. It floods his senses, intoxicates his brain, and his dragons give simultaneous groans of disappointment as they feel his mind plummet into the dark depths of nefarious desire.

She enters his cavern, and his eyes roam gleefully, shamelessly, across her. Unicorn, old enough to receive his attentions but not so old that her odour is that of a dry old prune, an inhospitable husk; she is still young enough to be nubile and to bend beneath his weight. His ruby gaze darts across her, and so do the eyes of his dragons; his red from the shadowy cave roof, and Vadir from her perch upon his back. Go, he commands them, never taking his eyes off his opponent - because there's no doubt in his mind that she intends to heed his war cry, and he wishes to be prepared. With a cacophony of draconic screams, red and gold ascend into the darkness that grips the far corners of the cavern, their scales glinting in what little light manages to pierce these putrid depths. They know, without needing to ask, that he does not require them in this battle. This is not a fight where total annihilation of his opponent is the intended outcome. This is not a fight where he needs to bathe his unfortunate foe in a haze of savage claws and hooked teeth, where he wants to be the victor by virtue of being the last one left alive. When he fights a woman, he does not fight to destroy. He fights to dominate, to prove the strength that burns through his muscles, to demonstrate his suitability as a lover and, if he's lucky, lure the mare into his bed as she crumbles into weak-kneed mush at the sight of his fearsome battle prowess.

That involves leaving his opponent capable of movement, and not in a bloodied heap at his feet. His dragons don't understand restraint, so it's best they not be involved at all.

The beast has just enough time to lock away his lusts and perform an assessment of the mare; smaller than him by a hand or so, enough of a difference that he knows his brute strength will need to come into play. He has his weight, so he will damn well fling it around. She's undoubtedly lighter and quicker on her feet, which may prove useful in these enclosed conditions. Although the cave is not particularly small, it does have walls that could be crashed into should Volterra's brakes fail, and even more embarassing is the prospect of tumbling into the water itself. The hard ground, damp with the spray of the waterfall, could easily prove perilous, and the stone would not be a merciful landing should his balance escape him.

She charges, and he stands tall and strong before her. There's little chance of her being able to push him over, so he remains where he is, a towering monolith of hewn stone and black brawn, a wall of man. Instead of charging, however, she bites, and as she does so Volterra throws his weight to his right. Her teeth crash into the flesh on the left side of his meaty chest, creating a large, deep bruise which bursts into life in the muscle and rises to the surface; it is extremely painful, but thankfully high enough up that it won't compromise his use of his left foreleg.

Instead of grimacing, as most horses would, he grins. Ah, yes, he does love a woman who packs a punch.

With a savage grunt, he throws himself forwards. Given his initial movement to his right, he now aims to move parallel alongside the mare, left side to left side. He aims to slam the left flank of his colossal hind end hard into Sialia's left shoulder, to try and barge her over to her right. Although he does not wish to crush her completely, he does want to defeat her, and if he can unbalance her then he can hopefully end the fight quickly in his favour. Simultaneously, his hungry jaws seek to rain bites down on the left side of her lower spine and backside, trying to pepper her with hard bruises in revenge for the one she's placed upon his chest. He wants to taste that jet black skin, mark it, own it.

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Teaching spar for @Sialia !

Set in the Sunken Falls. Up to you whether magic and companions are allowed ^^ Good luck!

1/3 - 763 words