Gaucho's enjoyment of his desire for the white mare was happily unburdened by any sort of social constraints that others in his position may have been burdened by. Was she taken? What would the consequences be? What of their future? Nor was he burdened by any sort of issues of confidence - of whether he could perform should the time come, or whether she found him attractive. Gaucho was a primitively handsome creature, and had a rough understanding of this. Even so, he was in tune with the subtle movements of her body, which revealed her attitude towards him. He watched as her lashes fluttered with what may have been associated with nervousness, yet Gaucho was not fooled. The way their bodies seemed drawn together, as if by an invisible force - the way the lapping of the water against her shoulders was almost a disappointment, for it was not the right sort of touch. It was not his touch.

As her muzzle drew near, Gaucho did something that may seem slightly surprising, given his rather primal nature: he was gentle. But don't be so surprised - even a creature who relies so heavily on instinct, has learned a thing or two about women over the years. As the whiskers from his dark nose neared her, he paused with a forced slowness, as if wanting to savor every instant of their embrace. His husky, woody scent blew against her, as he breathed hers in, as if greedily drinking some sweet wine. To press his muzzle firmly against hers, he didn't just extend his nose, but rather took a step forward, forcing him to arch his neck to keep his muzzle at her height, while bringing his body closer. As he pressed his muzzle firmly against hers, a soft sigh - an almost thoughtful one - escaped his dark lips.

Taking another step closer, now the distance between them no longer allowed Gaucho to keep his muzzle against hers, no matter how much he arched his muscular neck. Instead, he brought his nose to her left side, tracing it down the contours of her neck. The bone which pierced his nose, was smooth as it glided down her neck, investigating each and every inch of her immaculate white canvas. His breath, slow at first, because faster and warmer as he greedily drank in her in. As he pressed closer, so that their chests almost touched, his wings wrapped around her lithe frame even more, touching her ever so softly as they further sheltered her from view. Hungrily his inquiring muzzle stretched until he had reached her wither, nipping her with a tantalizing gentleness, as an impatient squeal sounded from him.

There was always at least one open wound on the warriors body at all times, and today was no exception. A cut on his hock, shallow, but open none the less, was a gateway to the magic that constantly churned within him. From his antlers, a silvery mist was emitted. It floated together over her back and within the confines of Gaucho's wing-cavern, moving around her right shoulder to nearer her face. The mist seemed to condense for a moment, before bursting to take the shape of a hoard of fireflies, flickering with a silvery-blue sheen as they danced before Sohalia. Their light cast shadows upon the two bodies - so different, and yet so close together.

[Just like in real life, it's always the girl's call how far this goes...xD]