atehimrightup | (no subject)

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george

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Lee is well aware of George's love of horses, and knows that he goes to ride sometimes, but he's never seen it in action. He just has no experience with horses, and never had much of an interest in them.

But things are different now. After everything that's happened, Lee finds himself wanting to know more about the things that George cares about. Nothing would make him happier.

Lee agrees to meet George at the stables and shows up in his normal clothes, jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that might actually be George's, and his leather boots. He doesn't know if he'll actually be riding a horse or just watching. He kind of hopes it's the latter.

When he gets to the stables, someone points him in the right direction and he heads for a barn, pausing at the door when he hears all the horses moving around. They're large, powerful animals and Lee feels slightly uneasy around them, if only because it's so unfamiliar.

"George?" He calls out, peeking his head into the barn. "Are you in here?"

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George smiles when he hears Lee's voice. He's already been out on Bramble today. They've known each for a while, and he doesn't get any easier to ride, but George is an experienced enough horseman that it's never posed that much of a problem. He's in the process of settling the horse after the ride, but he pauses.

"In here," he calls. "Stall at the end."

"Okay." Lee has a small bouquet in his hand, just some wildflowers wrapped in a fern leaf that he put together on his walk over. He'd felt a little silly the first few times, giving George wild plants and heart shaped stones that he finds when he was used to receiving actual jewels, but George seems pleased with his trinkets. The horses all seem to turn and stare at him as he passes by, like they know all his secrets, and it makes him vaguely uneasy.

The tension melts away when he gets to the last stall and sees George in tight black pants and tall leather riding boots. He has one of his more billowy blue tops on, hair windswept and cheeks flushed from riding, and he looks like he stepped off the cover of a romance novel. It's ridiculous. He's so fucking beautiful.

"Hi," Lee says, smiling besottedly at George and then taking a step into the stall to hold out the flowers, cheeks flushing as he does. "Here, these are for you."

"Oh!" says George, genuinely pleased as he takes the flowers, leaning in to kiss Lee's cheek. "You're sweet." He turns to carefully tuck the bouquet with his things so that he can back to what he was doing with the horse. "You successfully avoided having to get on a horse, but I need to take his kit off, and rub him down and get him settled before we go." Bramble huffs and stamps and George rolls his eyes. "Behave," he says, his voice pitched low and firm. "We like him."

Lee perks up at George's reaction, smile widening as George kisses him and takes the flowers to put them safely out of the way. He's becoming a little less convinced each day that George might decide that Lee isn't worth the trouble, and while that isn't why Lee is being nice and giving him presents, it always makes him feel better to see George smile at him like that.

"Do what you need to do," Lee says easily, taking a step toward George on instinct only to immediately backtrack when the horse stamps his foot. His heart speeds up a little and then George tells him to behave and Lee feels a strong jolt of something, only to have it turn into mild embarrassment when he realizes that George was talking to the horse. It makes him the slightest bit flustered and he takes a wide step back to lean against the gate, not wanting to be in the way. "I don't think you speak for him, sweetheart."

"Bramble is an arse in the world," says George, but his tone is undeniably fond as he starts to unbuckle the saddle, bending so that he can reach all of the fastenings. "Who doesn't like anyone. But he also knows better than to be too much of a bastard when I'm here." He lands a solid slap on the horses flank. "Don't you, mate?"

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."

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