He remembers the day they had met, speaking in the meadow. She had found him during the hours in which his savagery had only just begun to bleed away from him. He had not wanted to ruin her, as he has wanted to ruin so many others in the past. He had wanted to twist her open though until the darkness came pouring out, until she showed him the real things, raw, and bloody, and beautiful.
When it happens, he is almost unprepared.
Her blood blooms into the water around them and Bardot rises up, pushing back against his violence explosively. He roars in fury and pleasure, incredibly aroused by her defiance even as it forces him to fight her. Tunnel’s right fore-hoof strikes Bardot’s flank as he regains his grip on her. His length slipped from her as she hurled herself back up against him and the blue stallion pushes himself roughly back into the heat of her body only to find himself tossing his head back away from her spiral horn as it angles to gouge him or take one of his grey eyes. That spindle point catches his face, piercing the skin and skipping up his cheekbone, his jerk away saves his left eye. Blood spills down his ebony cheek, droplets of crimson landing to melt into Bardot’s golden back. Need shivers through Tunnel’s body, and he lunges against the hurricane beneath him. Reaching out to grip the back of her neck, sinking his teeth in as she bucks and tosses herself with strength that he marvels at even as he moans into her mane, aching from the frenzy of her movements. He finally breaks, and shudders against the— ”Little unicorn…” he growls, asking her to come for him, scolding her rebellion— his body heavy and nerves aflame.
Tunnel hates to move from her, would like to just linger there but feels the vibrations of her own fury beneath him. He slides from her, reluctant, but guarded. This time he does not leave, only sidesteps away, splashing through the water, coiled like a cobra, or perhaps arched like a mongoose, it’s hard to tell which of them is which. The massive stallion’s eyes burn, he wants her, to touch her, to claim her in ways that will just enrage her further. Each heavy breath roars out of his nostrils. Around them, the river rolls calmly on, lacewings dance over the surface beneath their dark limbs. Tunnel does not move until she does, inviting her to come for him, to take her reparations in a way he has never allowed any other to. He is ruined, he realizes, thoroughly ruined.
