atehimrightup | (no subject)

Lee leans against the gate and stares at George as he handles the horse so competently, finding himself a little surprised. He's not exactly sure why he's surprised. He knew that George was good with horses but it's apparently another thing entirely to actually see it. He's competent in an easy, natural way and Lee watches unabashedly, eyes widening when he smacks the horse's side.

Why is it so fucking hot in this barn?

"Is that right," Lee breathes out distractedly, watching as George's hands slide along the firm musculature of the horse, so confidently in charge even though the animal could certainly overpower him if it wanted. "He listens to you, then?"

"He has his moments," says George, lifting the saddle free and dropping it next to the stall door, for now. Next he goes for the bridle and bit, positioning himself where Bramble can see him, steadying his head with his hand before he starts to unbuckle the straps around his head, easing the bar from between his teeth. "There's a way you have to talk to horses. They're prey animals, so they're sensitive to mood -- they're skittish if you're skittish. You have to be let them know you're in charge."

Lee finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the way that George handles the horse. Each movement is calm and deliberate, and Lee swallows hard as his eyes track each and every one. George puts his hand near the horse's teeth and Lee almost feels nervous but quickly realizes that there is no need. George is in charge here. Utterly, capably in charge, and he knows it.

"I see," Lee breathes out, biting his lip and trying to decide why this is making him feel so weird. George is hot. He's sexy in everything he does and yeah, those pants make his ass look amazing but it's more than that. Lee feels flustered, almost like he's seeing something he shouldn't be, and it doesn't make any sense. "And you're in charge."

"I am," says George, simply, and without a hint of ego --- it's just the honest truth in that moment. He takes the tack off Bramble and sets it down with the saddle, picking up a curry brush from the ledge. "Do you want to learn how to brush him down?"

The answer sends a shiver down Lee's spine and he gulps, eyes slightly wide as he stares at the pair of them. The horse is bare now, free of all the leather trappings, and Lee watches as he shakes out his mane. George picks up what appears to be a brush and Lee feels the tiniest bit of distress, like a whine is caught in his throat, but he manages to swallow it back.

"Oh. Uh, you seem to have it handled," Lee says in a thick voice, clearing his throat and swallowing hard. "I want to watch. I mean-- I'm good. Over here."

George glances over his shoulder, eyebrows slightly raised as he walks back towards Bramble, approaching from the side so he doesn't startle him. The last thing he needs is for Bramble to start playing the fool with Lee in the tight space with them.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks, before he starts at Brambles neck, rubbing in tight, firm circles along long muscle. "You sound...tense."

Even the way George moves in here is captivating. He's so sure of himself, so in his element here, and it's incredibly hot. Lee is used to finding George hot, so he isn't sure why he suddenly feels like a kid about to pop his first boner.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," Lee says after a moment, eyes wide as he watches George start to fully massage the horse, capable fingers pressing into tight muscle, and Lee crosses his arms over his chest as he stares. "I'm just-- not used to horses, I guess."

His cheeks flush and he does his best to sound casual. "Tell me more? About handling them?"

"I've been riding almost as long as I could walk," says George, his attention focused on the horse, working his way down his side methodically, hands firm. "Ponies first and then horses. The key, I think, is to not let them know that you know that they're bigger than you. You have to be calm, and firm, and correct them when necessary."

Calm, firm, correct. Riding. Big. Why does this all sound so pornographic? God, he’s such a freak.

“Correct them how?” Lee asks, perhaps a touch too nonchalant. George keeps rubbing the horse and it looks… soothing. “You can’t hurt them, right? Or they might not trust you anymore.”

"I'd never hurt him," says George, because the thought of hurting a horse horrifies him. "But a tap from the crop or a tug on the reins to remind him of the bit? A little pain can be instructive." He clears his throat. "As I am personally well aware."

Lee squeaks. It comes out before he’s even aware that his mouth is open and he flushes terribly, trying to cover it with a cough. He feels a little like he did the first time he found one of his dad’s dirty magazines— nervous and clammy and hungry.

“Oh. I see,” he breathes out, and he swears the stupid horse looks smug. “That— makes sense, yeah. You’re good with him.”

Well, that was definitely a noise, and George isn't fooled by the cough, not for a second. He turns and actually looks at Lee, sees how flushed he is, the tell-tale look on fine features. He tilts his head, curry comb still in hand.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" He raises an eyebrow, and his eyes very deliberately skim down Lee's body and then back again, as he waits expectantly.

George looks him over, appraising him, and Lee resists the urge to straighten his spine and lift his chin. Like a damn show pony.

“What? Nothing. I’m nervous around horses,” Lee reminds him, and it isn’t technically a lie. He swallows hard and leans back against the wall, fingers resting against the wood.

“But watching you with them is— uh, very interesting,” Lee tells him, nodding slowly. The horse seems to get a little irritated, huffing and flicking his mane, and Lee doesn’t know if it’s because George stopped brushing him or because he’s picking up on the fact that Lee feels like a toy top stuck in the moment right before someone sets it spinning. “So you should continue what you’re doing. Don’t let me stop you.”

He’s working through something here, he thinks. But he needs more data.

George knows Lee well enough that he isn't buying any of that, not for a second, but he does as Lee says. Bramble continues to huff and stamp and George lays one hand on his neck, murmuring comforting nonsense under his breath as he goes back to the firm, circular movements with the curry comb.

"The thing about horses," he says, conversationally, "Is that, sometimes -- with a horse like Bramble, for example -- breaking them once isn't enough. You have to keep reminding them of their place in the world."

Thankfully, George lets it go (for now, ayway), and Lee is able to continue his vague freak out in relative peace. The horse seems unsettled and George is there with firm touches and gentle reassurances, calming the giant creature until he's still. Lee gulps thickly and he knows his face is red. He can feel sweat forming at his hairline. And that's all before George even speaks again. When he does, Lee feels something like yearing.

All he's ever wanted since he was old enough for rational thought was to have a place in the world, somewhere he belonged without a doubt. He pulls in a slow breath, and he's trembling a little when he lets it out. His dick twitches in his jeans but he's not hard, not really. Not yet. He's just enthralled in a way that he's trying very hard to decipher.

"How do you do that?" Lee asks, and there's a subtle hint of longing in his voice.

If George hears the hitch in Lee's breath, he doesn't let on.

"A lot of ways. He has to trust you, but then you also have to remind him who his master is. Make his decisions for him. A little pain, sure, but you take good care of him, too." He finishes one side and walks around Bramble's head to the other. "He can't doubt you."

Horrifyingly, Lee feels a little like he might cry. George is talking about taking care of a fucking horse, but Lee wants it to be about him. This is so embarrassing, and he doesn't know what to do with the sudden ache he feels. After a moment the lump in his throat goes away, but his face is still flushed with confusion and shame and desire.

"Because he's dangerous otherwise," Lee breathes out, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He watches George move about the space, every step calm and measured. His heart pounds against his ribs. "He could hurt you if he doesn't trust you."

"Exactly that," says George, rubbing the curry along Bramble's side in small, circular strokes. "He's bigger than me, but he doesn't really know that, and I can't let him remember it. I've seen men die because they weren't confident enough when handling a horse."

What about handling a monster? Lee wants to ask, but he doesn't. He isn't bigger than George, but he is stronger, unnaturally so. He could hurt George, but George trusts him somehow, and Lee trusts him in return. But sometimes he gets so in his head, and he feels like he wants to whine and stomp his feet and run until no one could possibly catch him.

Mostly, he wants to not want that at all. He wants to feel safe, wants to know he's protected. He wants to be taken care of by someone who isn't the least bit afraid of him.

God, he's jealous of a horse. This might be a new low.

"You're very good at this," Lee says after a long, contemplative moment, and he realizes that he's been so distracted by George's hands on the horse that he's barely even looked at his ass in those riding pants, which feels like a crime. "Like, you're in your element here."

"I am, I suppose," says George, finishing with the comb and setting it down. He reaches for a brush, rubbing the horse in front of him down with slightly rough, long strokes. "Like I said, I understand them, but it's instinctive. I had to work on understanding people this well."

"I'm a very hard thing to understand," Lee says, and it comes out sounding sadder than he had intended. But George has come closer than anyone else by a longshot.

He leans back against the side of the stall and watches, imagining long, firm sweeps of George's hands over his body after he's been ridden hard. It makes him swallow, cheeks flushing, and he lifts his hands so he can bury his face in them.

"I don't think so. Not necessarily. I think I understand you perfectly, anyway."

That gesture catches George's attention and he steps away from Bramble with a final pat for his neck.

"This, though." He steps in close. "What's gotten into you?"

"Better now than ever," Lee admits with a soft smile. George finding out the truth had been so terrifying, but it's better now. Everything feels a bit lighter. He's seen the very literal worst of Lee, and he's still here. He's here, stepping into Lee's space with concern on his gorgeous features, and Lee stares at him for a long moment. His face is burning, but he wants to try to articulate this.

"I-- I think I'm realizing something," he says as he reaches out to put one hand on George's hip. He leans out from the wall, hesitating, and then gently nudges his forehead against George's shoulder. "I'm trying to figure out how to say it."

Lee always looks so beautiful when he blushes, but then he's leaning in, hiding his face, and George an arm around his waist, presses the other hand between his shoulder blades.

"Alright, then," he says. "Try for me."

Try for me, he says. Patient and gently encouraging, with one hand firm between his shoulder blades. Lee shivers, and it's a wonder that he doesn't melt to the floor.

"Watching you with the horse--" He begins, taking a breath and hooking his chin over George's shoulder. Bramble stares back at him and Lee swears there is judgement in his eyes. He clears his throat and pulls back, briefly meeting George's eyes and then looking at the mole at the corner of his mouth because it feels safer. "Fuck, um."

He takes a breath. "Remember the first time I let you-- after that fight. I asked you to be nice to me," Lee says, finally looking into George's eyes again. "I didn't even even know what I meant at the time, really. But watching you with the horse-- it feels like that's exactly what I was asking for. That's what I meant."