Sleepy Fox Hollow [m] mafic ii

on the heels of @Fancy's heat and conception thundered that of selenia. delayed a small while this year, it burned through the mare in full force.

agitated, ears pinned when pippin attempted to nurse, selenia squealed out a thrumming note, scraping the ground. her colt was herded toward the lead mare and flashy, and then the buckskin whickered.

it was a rumbling note, one of seduction and desire. tail flicked her flanks, and dark eyes searched for @Colosseum with growing interest.

though, perhaps, the attentions of @Wolfshelm would also not go unanswered.

the mare cried a piercing thrill into the evening air.

he is nearby when the shrill cry sings and pierces his ears. its intent one that is loud and proud.
the stallion who had been grazing quietly perks up, sharp ears cutting through the threads of blowing wind. he smells her spice.
wolf nickers to himself and then snorts, stamping a hoof viciously upon the earth. eyes flirting once over the mare—considering for what is a half second—
then a tail swatting his hind as he begins to clop ample in the opposite direction.

colosseum felt her before he saw her—like smoke curling through the hollow, thick with heat and hunger.

selenia.

the pitch of her cry split the quiet, and his head snapped up from grazing. ears pricked, nostrils flaring, chest expanding with a breath that scorched its way down into his gut.

he turned.
he moved.

not fast.
not frantic.

but with the certainty of a stallion who knew exactly what answered a call like that.

his tail lifted, the broad arch of his neck carved in lust and purpose as he approached her, scent flooding him with each pulse of the wind. her heat clung to the air, rich and demanding—he didn’t need to guess what she wanted.

he paused only once—to cast a look toward wolf in the distance. a warning hidden behind a calm stare.

then his eyes locked onto selenia, and the tension bled from his frame into something coiled and powerful. she scraped at the ground; he stomped in reply.

a low chuff rumbled from his throat as he drew up alongside her, flank to flank, close enough for their breath to tangle.

she had waited.
he would give.

selenia did not know if it was good or bad, to have stormcloud and maplesmoke retreat in terms of what was memorable. stormcloud had been kind, maplesmoke dutiful. but she had never shared conversations with a stallion as she had with colosseum.

a little teasing squeal warned him back; the buckskin lifted her heels and clacked toward his chin, but not with any true threat.

a tight circle brought her back, nostrils flared, plume held in taunt.

selenia whinnied then, inviting colosseum to approach yet again.

this was their dance, an equine courtship long upheld by history.

colosseum caught the warning squeal with a glint in his eye—chin lifting just as her hooves struck air beneath it, not in fear, but in understanding.

not yet.
not quite.

prove yourself, storm-man.

he huffed, thick and amused, dust pluming from his nostrils. she spun, plume raised high like a banner of war, her breath a ribbon of heat wrapping round his ribs.

beautiful.
dangerous.

his hooves shifted, a heavy sidestep and a slow arc that mirrored her circle with one of his own. his body low-slung, muscles coiled beneath roan hide, tail flicking once behind him. not chasing. enticing.

when she whinnied—clear, bold, herself—he felt it hit his chest like a drumbeat.

he moved again.
approached again.

but this time, slower. respectful. with the reverence of something ancient, remembered not by thought but by blood.
his muzzle brushed the edge of her mane. gentle now. drawn with restraint hard-earned from a thousand generations of stallions who’d known the meaning of no, and the sweeter reward of yes.

this was their dance.
and he would follow her lead until she let him claim the rhythm.

enticing he was. the masculine thrum of his muscles, the musky scent of stallion surrounding selenia, spiced with the dust her heels had risen. 

eyelids fluttered;

breath caught in her throat when colosseum touched her. shyly, at last, the dark liquid eyes of the mare found his own.

she discovered softness there. care. a willing caution.

his touch sent a trilling thrill to ripple through selenia.

another warding kick! not so high this time, plume flicked to tease as she cantered playfully away from the stallion, but her control was waning. selenia desired colosseum and he knew it.

colosseum was not a subtle creature—

but with selenia, he moved like smoke curling over coals.

she flicked her plume, offered another kick—not threat, but ritual—and he grinned, breath flaring with the dust her heels stirred. his muscles rolled beneath his hide as he followed, slower now, savoring the game for what it was.

her scent clung to him. sharp, sweet, unbearable.

he watched the way her body trembled beneath her teasing. the way her canter faltered just slightly, her control fraying thread by golden thread.

he surged forward, but not to overtake. not yet.

just enough for her to feel him behind her—
that towering press of presence, the rhythm of hoofbeats syncing to hers.

when he drew close again, he reached—not with teeth, not with force, but with breath, a whisper of warmth along her flank, a graze of muzzle where her skin was softest.

flirting. breath mingling. colosseum soothed where heat stoked selenia into aggression.

she circled him; she allowed him the same. she reared, turning, the curve of her hips on display for the stallion.

her stallion, the buckskin supposed.

hers. possessive; tugging at his mane, nipping the hem of his tail.

and her smile answered.

for the last time her heels flashed; the mare rocked sensuously back against him then, a low and mewling rumble, throated. the air shook around he and she as selenia awaited eagerly their join, the powerful pulse for a future only he might ensure.

he arched, wicked and wooed.

colosseum was no gentle thing—but for her, there was a grace in the fire. he met her rear with a snort against her hip, breath billowing like smoke from a pyre. her touch was playful, yes, but it claimed him in a way even fancy never had. he was wildness wrapped in muscle, a tempest in golden hide, but for selenia?

he softened at the edge.

mine, he breathed into the velvet of her ear, deep and husky. not a question. a vow. her scent—ripe and reckless—coiled in his throat, thick with want.

she pressed. he prowled.

you tempt fate, sweetheart, colosseum rumbled, nipping back with teeth that grazed instead of tore. you flash those pretty heels like i won’t take that as a dare.

and gods, he did dare.

he rose with thunder, hooves catching on her hips. she was always soft, good this way. and he enjoyed every moment they spent on that grass field.