The event is over, and as people begin to filter away, Volterra sidles away into the depths of the trees, hunting. He has enjoyed every woman he has been partnered with, yet there's a special place in his mind - and his loins - for his first date. His left shoulder has been tended to by Tiamat, but the wound is still livid against his onyx skin; it's deep into the thick, hard muscle below, and he carries a distinct limp as he favours the injured leg.

None of this matters, though, because suddenly he can see her. A smile splits his handsome jaws and he hobbles closer, his ruby gaze darkening with lust as it lands upon that patterned body of hers. It's deep into the night now, and he can see the moonlight bouncing off her white patches, emphasising each delicious curve of her. and causing heat to pool between his thighs. Those hips of hers are at a perfect angle for his forelegs to hook around, her rump sturdy enough to take his great bulk when he mounts her...

Excitement and anticipation curdle his stomach, but he fights against the desire to let his ardour show physically, for now anyway. Like a blackened monolith of raw power and masculine musk, the goliath prowls closer, his eyes hooded and his expression salacious. "Now...” he rumbles to her, his voice low and sultry. "Where were we?” He reaches out, his lips seeking the wound on her neck - not to damage it further, but to plant heated kisses across it.

She returns his caress with one of his own, and another feral, needy growl rumbles in the depths of his chest. Then she shifts, moving away and inviting him after her with a flick of her tail which tickles across the skin of his chin, causing his expression to darken further with salacious intent. He dutifully marches after her, the pain in his shoulder still intense, but less so now he's intoxicated with the aroma of Aelfwine.

"Your other dates must surely have been unsatisfactory compared to your first one, hmm?” A great, rumbled chuckle follows his words as he falls into step beside her, his hulking mass towering over her as he matches her strides. Of course her other dates will have been inadequate in comparison to him; what other man could hope to compete with the Indomitable?

They seem to be at their destination, near the water. The beast takes a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting off the clear, still surface, before shifting his attention to the far more beautiful form of Aelfwine. He steps closer, expression hooded, and attempts to press his great bulk and brawn against her side, his jaws reaching to try and plant a nip onto her withers.

The hesitation in her reply makes his brow lift, feeling a frisson of jealousy dart through him. Surely she could not possibly have had a date who came close to rivalling him? My last date was pretty handsome, actually. "Hmmph,” is his reply, feeling the jealousy increase, no doubt to the amusement of the mare beside him. Like a child who has been told he needs to learn to share, Volterra's lower lip ejects slightly in a sulky pout. His titanic muscles tense and he gazes down at her, expression still darkened and with a wicked grin beginning to unfurl from his lips. "Do I need to go and beat him up?” he questions, and the tensing of his body should tell her that he's not entirely joking.

Her second sentence puts him more at ease, though, and he unleashes a loud earthquake of a chortle. "And women who can rip holes in my shoulder are dreadfully attractive,” he says with a glance at his wound. Tiamat's herbs have somewhat assauged the pain, but it's still an ever-present pulse in the injured area.

She's closer now, their bodies tangled together like thorns, and the stallion's excitement begins to rise. No matter how many times he does this, he does not tire of the thrill of the hunt, the capture, the feast. Sex and battle....it is hard to decide which he prefers. There's another guttural growl at her touch and he leans even closer, seeking to pepper her with nips...and then she slips away, leaving his skin feeling cold without her embrace. "Tease,” he growls, moving after her in time for her hip to press against his shoulder. He aims to plant a bite onto the dock of her tail, an unspoken question about whether she is ready to proceed further.

Her words go some way towards placating him, and the titan allows himself to relax. After all, the woman has chosen to come back to him, not her shiny new date. She's chosen to lead him into the depths of the Grove, and if her words are anything to go by, she's about to have her wicked way with him. He huffs, still slightly sulky and jealous in an obsessive stallion kind of way, but satisfying himself with the knowledge that if she should ever bump into her second date again, she'll be smelling of Volterra.

He continues to press lazy kisses against her skin, revelling in each touch and taste. Her squeak sounds like permission, and the goliath releases another guttural growl as he seeks to press his chest forcefully against her rump as he moves to mount. But then...wait! His heart sinks, thinking for one dreadful moment that she's going to change her mind, leave him blue-balled and angry. Despite not wanting to, he pauses; Volterra is many things, but he will never take a woman unless she offers herself to him.

To his relief - and surprise - her words go down a different path. She wishes to join the herd? The thought of her in his herd (because he's moved from being Gladiator to being Sultan in the space of these threads SHHH) sends possessive shivers down his spine, and his next grunt is a softer, warmer one. "Yes,” comes the thick rumble, tinged with lust and delight in equal measure. "I have need of more warriors. And more mistresses.” The grin widens cheekily. The pressure's on to show her the best time of her life, convince her to join him in his home so he they can ravish each other whenever they want.

Her permission finally given, the Indomitable shifts into position and takes.

-SHAKALAKA BOOM BOOM-

The beast slips free, sated and sweating. Each move had been perfectly calculated to ensure her utmost satisfaction, and his own, of course. He moves alongside her, his breathing already regulating itself courtesy of the stamina he's built up through fighting and fornicating. "I trust that will serve as enough persuasion for you?” he says, arrogance flooding through his words as he tries to rest his chin lazily upon her withers.