12-20-2015, 10:06 PM
Both of their hearts are stammering in their chests, beating out I-love-you’s in a rhythm fast-paced and certain. He has never been so certain of anything in his short life beyond the trail underfoot or the grass in his belly, but he knows her like he knows those things - important, vital, necessary to his very existence. The bay continues his nibbling ministrations to her withers, but he grows increasingly distracted by the fact that they are in the thick of their impetuous youth, early into autumn, and deeply in love.
His moves his head from her back; his upper lip stiffens, curls up as he scents her estrus. The stallion snorts as she swings her hindquarters away from him; frustration darkens his face momentarily, a natural response to his own boorish nature as they come face to face with one another. He arches his neck to make himself more impressive, already a fair bit taller than her, and he half-nips in a teasing manner at her muzzle. Mandan rounds his crest further, squares up as he feels each nibbling kiss that she gives him but he is blind in his youth and feeling his oats as they say.
He is too eager as he dances towards her hindquarters, light on his feet and wary of her lest her mood should change all of a sudden. Mandan bites at her shoulder then her hip, little love-nibbles of his own as he leans his chest into her rump, testing her. There is no doubt in his mind that mating is natural - he has seen stallions cover their mares but never before has it occurred to him to seek a mare and further the bloodline, until now. That is partly to do with nature and her control over them and more to do with the fact that he loves her. He shows it in the way he lays his head against her rump, rubbing his cheek there in a sideways gesture that imprints his scent upon hers.