The excitement that hummed quickly through his veins was difficult for him to hold at bay, but for her, he managed. He kept his movements slow, very clearly testing the boundary of her willingness rather than charging directly through it. Peyote’s hooves stopped a distance from her, but his thick, muscled gray-brown neck stretched outward and his half pink, half black lips hovered near her skin. He could smell her fear, could see her body tremble harder with each inch he drew nearer… but today it did not make him as happy.

Something softened the blue of his eyes. An emotion Peyote did not have a name for or understand, but a more well-adjusted individual might call compassion. A low grunt rumbled in his throat, a sound he didn’t often make, meant to be a comforting noise, and a few more soft grunts followed.

When she did not move away still, he slowly stretched his neck out further and further until, at last, his whiskered lips skimmed her dark skin. He sighed against her coat and inhaled deep, eyelids briefly closing as he drank in her intoxicating feminine scent. Excitement caused a shiver to trickle down his spine, his dark tail flicking briefly a few times before he forcibly settled it against his haunches again. He pressed his lips a little firmer into her skin, but not in a painful way, just to touch her more concretely.

His eyelids slowly pulled open and he looked at what he could see of her face. Another low nicker rumbled out of his lips, and he gently scratched at her shoulder with his lips. In a way it was truly far more for him than it was for her, providing these touches gave him the opportunity to do and have what he’d been dying for since he’d forced her here. He had never attempted to comfort another horse before, but he tried then… tried to explain to her without words that if she only behaved, he could treat her kindly.