atehimrightup | (no subject)

"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."

George's dark eyebrows pull together and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I... Am not sure I follow, love," he says. "You want me to treat you like a horse?"

Well, that makes Lee feel stupid. His eyes sting and he swallows hard, cheeks flushing even further as he looks away and tries to take a step back.

"No, that's not--" He shakes his head a little and lets out a quiet huff. "Never mind, it's dumb. I don't know what I'm saying."

"No, no," says George, his arm tightening around Lee's waist when he tries to pull away. He shifts his other hand, fingers under Lee's chin to nudge his face up.

"Tell me again. I want to understand."

Lee huffs as George keeps him from fleeing, gritting his teeth and stamping one foot, and then he goes still and looks at the horse again, feeling humiliated.

"No," Lee says when George touches his chin, mostly just to be obstinate because he's so embarrassed. Then he huffs and lets George tilt his chin up, but looks somewhere just to the left of his eyes. "Fine."

He takes a breath and lets his hands hang at his sides. He thought that conveyed it pretty well. Be nice to me, like you were being nice to the horse. He isn't sure how much clearer he can make it. "I think I want you to act with me like you act with the horse. Like, the energy of it. The way you are."

His eyes sting and he makes a distressed sound. "I don't want to be treated like a horse. I want you to treat me like you treat the horse. There's a difference but I don't know how to explain it and I'm fucking embarrassed, so we can just forget it."

"No, no, I think I understand," says George, his hand smoothing down Lee's arm, squeezing his bicep lightly. "You want to be reminded of your place in the world." He leans in, his mouth closer to Lee's ear. "Which, to be clear, is you're mine. Entirely."

George squeezes his arm and Lee's gaze snaps to his eyes as he speaks, nodding almost eagerly because he thinks that George is starting to get it. He wants to be reminded, wants to be cared for with tender authority while being respected at the same time.

And then George's lips just barely graze his ear and Lee does whimper then, reaching out to grab George's hips as he nods. "Yes, I am. Entirely. And I don't want it to be mean. I don't want to have to beg. I just-- I want what you were just doing. But for me."

The horse huffs, ears flicking, and Lee turns even more red. "Shut up, Bramble. He's mine."

"I wouldn't make you beg," says George, gently, still stroking Lee's arm, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. He turns his head, brushing his lips against Lee's skin. "Let me finish up here, and we can talk about it more? I want to make sure I'm giving you exactly what you want."

He pulls away. "Can you grab the tack for me? I'll handle the saddle."