How could he not give in? How could he not give up? He was, after all, a stallion. It lay in his blood to produce offspring, to have foals gallivanting around his legs and growing up strong and healthy - to have so many, that when the weak died, his brood did not thin noticeably. Lotus was a fine mare, loyal, smart, with her heart in the right place. She was finely featured, a huntress instead of a battle tank; she was warm, female, and something about her had his heart fluttering as he pressed against her warm chocolate body. The flowers in her mane smelled so sweetly, and the nip of her teeth sent another uncontrollable shudder through him. When had this happened? When had he given in, so easily? He liked to think that he had decided to give in, but it was questionable if he had. Most likely, his body had just said do it and he'd not had enough fortitude to stand against it. A husky growl rolled in his chest as he returned the attention, trying to gather up the skin of her back between his teeth. Perhaps there was a little too much force in his bite, a subconscious reprimand, or perhaps he simply liked it rough. If someone had asked him, he wouldn't have known.

She slipped away from him, coyly, but not shyly or with demeaning words. Her smooth form pressed against his side as she passed, leonine tail sliding under his head. The lotus flowers spilled their intoxicating scent deeper into his mind, tainting his every breath. Like a true marionette he put one frosted hoof in front of the other, dragged along like a willing young dog, eying her moving hips and leash-like tail with obvious want, need, but she was always one step ahead, out of the way. Could she be such a tease? A questioning rumble rolled in his chest, as he was mostly reduced to a beast beyond words, but even in his state of desire and arousal something intelligent remained in side. She seemed to be going somewhere, intent lacing her movements, and for a moment he paused to get his bearings.

South. They were heading south.. in more ways than one. She'd slipped ahead a few paces, and with a deep whuffle Mauja took a few steps of trot, catching up again. "Is this wise?" he asked stupidly of her, trying to rub his cheek against her flank. No matter what she responded he'd just believe her and keep tagging along, wouldn't he? Why else was he still there, by her side, not just following but trying to touch her still. How far off was the Grove? Could he break away if he wanted to? Did he want to? Most likely not. He did not have a legion of children running around, just the one, Snö, but that time with Psyche... He could not deny the pleasure of it, but - was Lotus truly heading there? "Is this what you want?" he murmured against her flank, muzzle trailing along her haunch, down to her thigh. Was it the smell of the flowers in her tail, or the smell of mare which kept him following her now?

Whatever was to come, wherever it was, unless she suddenly broke off her play, he had a feeling he would regret it in the morrow. The notion came, fleeting, and went just as fast. The morrow be damned. He could deal with it later.

( feel free to move them on to the Grove whenever you wish? xP )