He runs, forcing Zoryn to chase him, and he easily obliges. His heart beats harder with adrenaline and feral hunger. Predator chasing prey. Blood still on his lips. His eyes are locked on him, mind focused on keeping balance in the soft terrain still moist from the melted snow. It takes him a long moment to realize the other is laughing. In fact, he hardly registers he's spoken until after his attempt to knock the colt off his feet. "Not my tombstone you should be worrying about." It is but a mere mumble, his mind not focused on conversation. Although if he was, he would say Big Bastard was pretty damned accurate.
Unsuccessful at knocking him over, he growls (as much as a horse can growl), moving to follow him as he stumbles, grabbing with anxious jaws at his hind legs. But then the other bucks up at him, which he should have seen coming but is a bit crazed with blood lust at present. Zor is able to lift his head out of the way in time, but one hoof catches him in the breast, all meat, and he grunts in a sort of "oomph" sound that blends into a pleasured groan. "More like it." He grumbles, glaring at the other, but it slowly fades into a twisted grin. An odd, unexpected laugh escapes him as the other takes off again. Zoryn moves after him, slowed slightly by the muck and the delectable ache in his flank and now his breast. He shivers at the soreness, savoring it and letting it clear some of the red haze from his mind. Enough that he can hear the other's laughter, feel the shared joy of this unique game of his- theirs?
Any other time, he might have been pissed that his chosen target seemed to be enjoying the unwarranted attacks being dished out from a total stranger. He had thought he had wanted him scared, crying out for mommy, or some other such pettiness. Instead, there was a whole different level of pleasure stemming from the idea of mutual play. Something he is far from accustomed to. It fuels him to run faster toward the other, who had managed to put distance between them, and there is a burning in his gut he has never felt before. Especially as he watches him stop, turn. Zor's ears flick forward. Their gazes meet, locked into contact. Anticipation matches tit for tat. Daring him. "Come to me.." Barely heard, but it urges him, feeds the growing fire in his blood, the light flickering in his chocolate and purple eyes as he gains on him and rapidly closes the gap, heading straight-on. A test.
Their eyes could burn holes in each other's skulls if such a thing were possible. Mere heartbeats pass, matching his strides and breath blowing from flared nostrils. He isn't sure what to expect from the other at this point. Will he stand or will he chicken out. There is hardly time for decision. At the last possible moment, Zoryn rumbles low and deep in his chest, tossing his head and digging his hinds in underneath him, sticking his fores into his sliding stop. With the soft earth, he skids a good distance, destroying the grass and leaving muddy track lines in his wake. When his momentum comes to an end, if Dovev has stood where he was, the tan and white of Zor's nose would come but inches from the black velvet of his own. Straightening, he stares the other down, letting silence reign between them for several seconds, save for their breathing- not rapid, but heavy.
This fire within him burns hot, urging him to act, but he fights to stand still, searching the black eyes. Measuring. A muscle twitches in his shoulder, ending his statuesque stance. His limbs itch, and so he moves. A controlled step forward, two. Eyes remain locked, his entire being feeling for any changes in movement. Ears go back, but not pinned, as he breaks gaze and reaches to press his muzzle to the inky black neck. Testing, measuring. His musk fills his nose at the light sheen of sweat there, and he almost shuts his eyes. "Zoryn." Muffled, husky, barely audible. It could've gone unheard had he not been so close.
Confusion fills him, all at once. This colt, meant to be an easy target- a means to an end, a source of pain- shatters the rage in him and becomes something else. Something more. He doesn't know what it means, doesn't know if he likes it. So unsure. The heat in his gut roils, twisting. Burning. All uncomfortable and painful and yet so... damn good. Suddenly, he stiffens- more than he already had been, ears pinning and his jaws part. His teeth find the bulging muscle of the ebon neck, but instead of clamping down and ripping away, he pulls back as he bites, leaving only a sting in his wake. He leaps away, off to the side, eying the other in a seething glare. "Who are you?"
And what have you done to me..
Unsuccessful at knocking him over, he growls (as much as a horse can growl), moving to follow him as he stumbles, grabbing with anxious jaws at his hind legs. But then the other bucks up at him, which he should have seen coming but is a bit crazed with blood lust at present. Zor is able to lift his head out of the way in time, but one hoof catches him in the breast, all meat, and he grunts in a sort of "oomph" sound that blends into a pleasured groan. "More like it." He grumbles, glaring at the other, but it slowly fades into a twisted grin. An odd, unexpected laugh escapes him as the other takes off again. Zoryn moves after him, slowed slightly by the muck and the delectable ache in his flank and now his breast. He shivers at the soreness, savoring it and letting it clear some of the red haze from his mind. Enough that he can hear the other's laughter, feel the shared joy of this unique game of his- theirs?
Any other time, he might have been pissed that his chosen target seemed to be enjoying the unwarranted attacks being dished out from a total stranger. He had thought he had wanted him scared, crying out for mommy, or some other such pettiness. Instead, there was a whole different level of pleasure stemming from the idea of mutual play. Something he is far from accustomed to. It fuels him to run faster toward the other, who had managed to put distance between them, and there is a burning in his gut he has never felt before. Especially as he watches him stop, turn. Zor's ears flick forward. Their gazes meet, locked into contact. Anticipation matches tit for tat. Daring him. "Come to me.." Barely heard, but it urges him, feeds the growing fire in his blood, the light flickering in his chocolate and purple eyes as he gains on him and rapidly closes the gap, heading straight-on. A test.
Their eyes could burn holes in each other's skulls if such a thing were possible. Mere heartbeats pass, matching his strides and breath blowing from flared nostrils. He isn't sure what to expect from the other at this point. Will he stand or will he chicken out. There is hardly time for decision. At the last possible moment, Zoryn rumbles low and deep in his chest, tossing his head and digging his hinds in underneath him, sticking his fores into his sliding stop. With the soft earth, he skids a good distance, destroying the grass and leaving muddy track lines in his wake. When his momentum comes to an end, if Dovev has stood where he was, the tan and white of Zor's nose would come but inches from the black velvet of his own. Straightening, he stares the other down, letting silence reign between them for several seconds, save for their breathing- not rapid, but heavy.
This fire within him burns hot, urging him to act, but he fights to stand still, searching the black eyes. Measuring. A muscle twitches in his shoulder, ending his statuesque stance. His limbs itch, and so he moves. A controlled step forward, two. Eyes remain locked, his entire being feeling for any changes in movement. Ears go back, but not pinned, as he breaks gaze and reaches to press his muzzle to the inky black neck. Testing, measuring. His musk fills his nose at the light sheen of sweat there, and he almost shuts his eyes. "Zoryn." Muffled, husky, barely audible. It could've gone unheard had he not been so close.
Confusion fills him, all at once. This colt, meant to be an easy target- a means to an end, a source of pain- shatters the rage in him and becomes something else. Something more. He doesn't know what it means, doesn't know if he likes it. So unsure. The heat in his gut roils, twisting. Burning. All uncomfortable and painful and yet so... damn good. Suddenly, he stiffens- more than he already had been, ears pinning and his jaws part. His teeth find the bulging muscle of the ebon neck, but instead of clamping down and ripping away, he pulls back as he bites, leaving only a sting in his wake. He leaps away, off to the side, eying the other in a seething glare. "Who are you?"
And what have you done to me..