<br/><br/>Watching the sprite move toward Bryn, Midnight allowed himself another huff of breath. It came loudly through his nose, as close to a snort as he could allow himself without being too obvious. He turned his face to watch those clawed hands at work, and couldn't help but to bend his own legs slightly in a protective gesture.<br/><br/>Not that Taskill was using them to harm, but he could. He wished to see them sink into flesh then, to tear through muscle and tendon and vein all as one until there was nothing left for him to touch. He visualized every inch of the cut, every gouge and furrow clawed in soft flesh, and then it was his own stirring that made himself stop.<br/><br/>It had nothing to do with Taskill's undressing of course. Or so he told himself, anyway.<br/><br/>Nothing to say? Oh, he had so fucking /much/ to say. Midnight, however, knew all of it was better expressed through hoof and horn rather than stupid words, and so refused to bite into his captor's bait.<br/><br/>It wasn't his fault that Bryn didn't attach the same meaning to body language than he did.<br/><br/>When the powerful male pushed the sprite away there was a hint of tension from the alicorn: arms corded some, the muscles on his shoulders bulged, his expression remained just as closed as before. It was a choice, and as disgusting as it was, it was not one he hadn't been given before.<br/><br/>Of course, before there hadn't been other people to watch him debase himself, and it ranked enough to set the beast's hackles up.<br/><br/>Midnight stretched in place, taking as long as he veritably could before rolling himself across Taskill's own frame in his approach to the Master. Still fully clothed, he pressed himself to the sprite much like he might have the female he took from Bryn earlier, and reached across the void with one hand to stroke that measly dangle of skin.<br/><br/>It was a flutter of fingers, really, as much as he knew he could get away with before sliding down to cup the more substantial pair below, squeezing just short of too hard before sliding a fingertip behind. He wasn't told how to stroke anyway, right?<br/><br/>Rather than looking up he looked right past Bryn, and to the female beyond.<br/><br/><em>We can all pretend we are having fun.</em><br/><br/><br/>