The rage had passed, the anger escaping through the pores on his body. Each cough and gasp from below soothed his temper until it was but a memory. The man's frame was small under him, his body easily pressing him down and more fragile from Laute's stance.
Victory was his. It was a fact, and he allowed himself a small cough of his own, his wounded stomach aching now that he paid attention. In the tumble to the ground, the sling had slipped down, leaving his still-scabbing injury to reopen once more. Warm, a few drops dribbled down onto the man's worn armor, barely visible against the black leather.
Calmer, he listened to the man's last bark. Now that the match was over, there was no need to remain silent anymore. Amused by the man, Laute studied his composure. How far could he push the man before he snapped? He had yet to see that happen, yet to see the smirk fall and a glare take its place.
"A kiss?" Perturbed, he stared down at the young man below him. There was dried blood on his forehead, the scratch now scabbed over, and his hair was filled with sweat and sand. He had heard of those who took the same sex as their mates, living without children of their own.
Here was one, sprawled below him. He looked no different, with his dark eyes and sarcastic grin. Smelled the same as well, human and uninteresting.
Leaning down, Laute hovered over the man's face, long strands of fur brushing the man's cheeks. "If you want one so badly, you earned it," he murmured, pressing his lips against the man's warm flesh. A small nibble on his cheeks and he leaned up once more, disappointed.
No, even the taste was the same.