Wild Horses (19 page)

T
HE
shifting of horses in their stalls woke Kai up to the sounds of heavy rain drumming on the surface only a few feet away from his head. Attila slept next to him, sprawled on his back. His right hand and right foot searched for Kai’s warmth even in his sleep. Pushing away the cobwebs in his mind, Kai propped himself up on his elbow, grateful for the opportunity to observe the other man.

He looks like a zonked-out starfish.

Kai didn’t want to get up just yet, but the insistent, wet sounds overhead alerted him to an urgent need to empty his bladder. With a pang of regret he moved Attila’s limbs and began dressing in the dim morning light, hoping to run through the rain to the arena, where the observation room had a toilet and a sink.

“Kai.” Attila’s voice rose from the covers, sleepy and content. “There is an old milk can by the wall. Behind the hay bales.”

Kai halted and turned to the prone man in the nest of old blankets. “A milk can,” he repeated, stunned by the concept.

“Yeah. We’ll just empty it afterward and rinse it out.” It became obvious that Attila was well versed in the morning routine of waking up in the hayloft. Never in a thousand years would Kai have believed the man, whom he first saw clad in an elegant black tuxedo on a busy downtown street, would ever use an old milk can for his morning duty in the hayloft of a stable barn.

Attila stirred again. Then he stretched like a cat and rose, padding around in his socks. “I have to go too. I’ll show you where it is.”

T
HE
horses began to wake, but the humans were still drawn to their hay cave and its warm nest of blankets. Attila slipped in, basking in the stored body heat. “It is early yet. Do not let the light outside fool you.” His head fit onto Kai’s shoulder perfectly, the taller man’s arm serving as a pillow. He slid his eyes to the side, hungry for an opportunity to study Kai in repose.

Attila felt somewhat thwarted, however, when he saw Kai’s eyes wide open, staring at the wet skylight. Sheets of water were pouring over the pane of glass, the fat drops turning the roof into an enormous, deep drum. “Sleep. We have an hour.” Attila turned, stroking Kai’s chest, letting his hand wander down Kai’s T-shirt toward his abdomen.

“I went to sleep early. Unlike you.”

Attila stopped short of asking what drove Kai out of the house. He knew well enough the resounding emptiness of the place—he himself had been drawn to the warm company of the horses in the past. He would never admit to it, not even under duress, but after his breakup two years ago, he had spent most of his nights up here. Instead of speaking, he let his curious fingers slip underneath the soft cotton of Kai’s shirt, reveling in his body heat. Kai’s skin felt tight under his palm, with just a few hairs tickling his wrist on his way down. He heard Kai draw a sharp breath. “Yes?” he inquired, all innocence.

“Ngh… nothing.” Kai gasped again as Attila palmed his morning wood. “You ain’t playin’ fair. We’ll need to go feed the horses soon.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Attila husked, grinding his hips into Kai’s thigh.

Instead of responding, Kai rolled on top of Attila, his knees between Attila’s thighs. He bent his head down, capturing Attila’s lips, not moving for a time. Attila didn’t mind being spread beneath Kai’s weight, his knees parted and thighs splayed, while his hands slid their way up the back of Kai’s shirt.

“Take it off,” Attila suggested.

Kai disposed of the shirt, tossing it aside. “Now yours,” he growled, lifting himself to give Attila enough room to strip his undershirt.

Skin slid against skin, and Attila wiggled in pleasure when Kai’s lips tasted his pale skin, teasing the rosy bud. He gave a sharp hiss, stroking Kai’s hair with eager hands, sliding down his braid to the rubber band and easing it off. Attila’s fingers were nimble enough to undo Kai’s braid—as long as he wasn’t distracted by Kai’s tongue, playing a game of tease down the trail of hair that led below Attila’s waist. Kai’s hair fell in a fiery curtain about his face, interfering with his efforts.

Suddenly Kai shook his head, spitting.

“What is it?” Attila intoned.

“My hair’s trying to kill me.” He sat up, gathering unruly strands off his forehead and meeting the passion in Attila’s darkened eyes head-on.

“What would you like, Kai?” Attila asked as Kai twirled his fingers in his hair.

“I don’t have the right supplies,” Kai growled as he sought more friction through his briefs and ground into Attila’s hip.

“Perhaps you do not, but I do,” Attila said. “In my pants pocket.”

Kai froze. He straightened, his arousal now a morning salute, apparent to Attila’s hungry, stormy eyes. “You sure about this?” He murmured, feasting on the visual display beneath him.

“Oh yeah.” Attila’s voice escaped his chest. Then he whispered. “I can barely
restrain
myself.”

Kai leaned over and searched the pockets of Attila’s jeans. A strip of condoms and a small bottle of lube were still in their drugstore plastic bag. “Looks like you had big plans,” he said.

“Rather, I had big hopes,” Attila corrected him. Kai relaxed marginally when their eyes met again and Attila allowed a rare, hopeful smile to grace his lips.

“Attila,” Kai whispered, savoring his name. The supplies were dropped to the blankets for now as he let his hands roam up and down his sculpted legs. “Take it off.”

“You, too.”

They set their underwear aside, and Kai lowered his hips in search of heated flesh. His eyes rolled back in his head as their lengths touched, hot and silken, sensuous. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I
WANT
you, Kai.” Attila’s voice was quiet, insistent.

“Okay,” Kai whispered, revering the pale shoulders with his lips. “I’ll be real careful, real gentle….” His large hand stroked Attila’s hair in a tender, uncertain gesture, for this man was not like the others.

Not just another quick fuck.

Kai felt pain then, pain borne of shame and humiliation because he knew the other ones didn’t matter. They never mattered. This one was the only one he ever cared about like this; the one he cherished. He knew his face, a countenance he met in the light of day, unmarred by smoke, pounding music, and lights dancing in the dark. He even knew his name. Now he was frozen, hesitant to make a mistake he could not afford with the one that mattered.

Beneath him, Attila gave a frustrated sigh as he pulled Kai down by the shoulders. “I love the way you press against me,” he said, giving Kai an encouraging smile.

“Sorry…. I don’t want to squish you,” Kai whispered, attempting to shift some of his weight onto his elbows.

“You feel heavy in a good way,” Attila said quickly. “Solid, warm, secure…. Please….”

Kai’s eyebrows drew together in frustrated confusion. “I don’t know what you like.”

Attila seemed to struggle for words. “Remember yesterday, when you worked with Cayenne? You backed him up, no fear, no hesitation. That was… very hot. When you don’t know I am watching, when you think it’s just the horses, you let your confidence show. Your confidence is very sexy.” Kai met Attila’s watchful gaze. “Make me feel like that, Kai.”

“Like… like Cayenne?” Kai reddened. “I get bossy with Cayenne.”

Attila, bent over a hay bale.

Attila’s hands bound with a lead rope.

Attila’s wrists tied to the rafters with the soft end of his own whip, Kai sliding down to have his way with him….

Kai shut his eyes against the onrush of images from his own fantasies. The touch, the sound, the very presence of Attila beneath him made his heart wilt. An old shame whipped him at even thinking such thoughts about
this one
and he flinched—then he pushed it away, determined to focus on his lover’s pleasure.

“I like it when you get bossy.” Attila’s voice was breathy now, his eyes dilated, Kai looming over him. “I revel in your strength. You are so….” Pale hands brushed up Kai’s flanks in appreciation. “You are truly beautiful.”

“I could never do anything to hurt you,” Kai whispered, ardent yet terrified.

“I know.” Attila smiled. “I merely do not wish to be in charge all the time.”

Kai’s brow furrowed with a dawn of understanding. If that was so—then he could do that. He could take the lead, take the risk, and assume the responsibility for his lover’s pleasure. Attila could be in charge of the students, of the horses, of the accounts. And Kai, for just a little while, could be in charge of Attila’s ecstasy. The level of implicit trust threatened to choke his voice, so he only nodded and leaned down to kiss Attila’s brow.

“I will make you feel amazing,” he whispered through his lover’s midnight locks as his hands slid up to his shapely shoulders, letting his fingers trace the whipcord arms in trails of heat and want. He felt a hand brush his arousal. Gasping, he grabbed Attila’s wrist. “No.” Time to back the stallion up. “Not yet.” Kai sat back and gasped, fighting for breath as his felt his balls tighten. It wasn’t time yet. He shut his eyes and thought of baseball statistics, trying to buy himself just a bit of time.

Kai almost succeeded in restoring a semblance of control when Attila snaked his other hand around his length again with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Without saying a word, Kai captured Attila’s misbehaving hands. He looked around. All the tack was down in the barn—and so were the soft, cushy lead ropes. Yet the bales of hay were tied with sturdy string, and pieces of those strings slipped off and littered the floor. Kai reached for a length of cordage and bound Attila’s crossed wrists with a secure knot. Their eyes met. Attila flashed Kai a defiant look, under the surface of which simmered untamed lust.

Y
EAH
. Oh, yeah. Like that.

Attila felt free. Free to let go, free of the burdens of his unending responsibilities. There was nothing he could do now—his hands were tied. He rested bound wrists above his head, arching into Kai’s warm palm. If he wasn’t careful, this would not last very long.

He gasped through the sharp sting of preparation, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He had to enjoy—he had no choice. There was nothing else to do. Time passed like the rain sheeting down the skylight over his head, and Attila was in a place of no fear and no regret. It was only he and his beautiful, wild Kai, his untamed lover. The patter of the rain overhead was accompanied by the sound of a wrapper being ripped open—then a small bottle clicked open and shut—and Attila felt Kai’s blunt tip breach him as he lifted his hips to meet the welcome intrusion. He pulled against the ropes that bound him; they rubbed against the sensitive inside skin of his wrists just right. With one leg against Kai’s shoulder and the other folded under him, he relished in feeling Kai’s warm, strong hands and the sure way in which they guided the rhythm of his hips.

He was being mounted; responding to the subtle shifts of weight of his rider, he adapted. His submission was an act of utter trust—and judging by Kai’s gentle care and the sudden squeeze on his achingly hard cock, that trust was not misplaced. They gathered their strength and soared together in ecstasy that felt like flying, then landed together on the other side of the precipice.

The barn dogs were stirred to barking downstairs, alarmed by their master’s pleasured gasp and his rider’s keening wail.

They slumped together in a messy tangle of sweaty limbs and flowing hair. Attila slipped his still-bound wrists around Kai’s neck and pulled him close. Their eyes met and they shared a smile and a tender kiss—a kiss like a glowing ember of a fire, which they only banked till the night.

“Thank you,” Attila said loud enough to be heard over the raucous barn dogs downstairs. “Perhaps, if you could release me now?”

“Yeah, I know.” Kai’s face blossomed in a sated, languorous smile. Attila smiled back, and then he
realized
he was smiling, his chest filled with unaccustomed warmth as he contemplated the man bound to him. He felt happy, blissed-out, relaxed down to his bones. Neither his body nor his mind were under his conscious control just yet, which is how he came to realize that he was happy. This man made him happy. He caused him to execute a facial expression that he almost forgot how to make. Allowing another person to make him happy triggered an echo of an earlier loss, but Attila ignored it, focusing on the moment for just a bit longer.

Kai raised his voice to be heard over the cacophony of animals downstairs. “You want to be let go now to let the dogs out and to feed the horses, right?”

“Our responsibilities never end.” Attila replied, his face still stuck in that alien, happy expression of contentment. It was not a complaint. He rubbed his wrists, enjoying the brief sting where the rope used to be. He then leaned forward to brush a fervent kiss against Kai’s neck. “We really better feed the horses now.”

W
ITH
a bemused air, Attila watched Kai stew for three whole days of patience and trust exercises before Kai was able to sneak a light saddle onto Cayenne’s back. Three days were nothing. Attila extended his hand toward the horse, offering an apple slice while Kai made placating noises and reached for the girth strap that dangled on the other side of Cayenne’s barrel. As the horse’s velvety nose touched Attila’s hand and his agile lips stole the apple off his palm, Kai fastened the buckle just tight enough for it to stay, but not too tight to alarm the young stallion.

Cayenne’s ears flared back as he danced to the side, his tail flagging out. Attila knew he didn’t like the restraint around his middle, yet apples were always good. Cayenne accepted a slice from Attila’s hand by now, and Attila wondered whether Kai’s scent lingered upon him. The thought was only somewhat amusing. Horses discerned herd members and family ties through their keen noses. It was this understanding of prey animal herd mentality and tactics of mutual defense that allowed Attila to train horses with exemplary results. Thus, it was not farfetched that the young stallion considered Attila to be a part of his favorite human’s herd and, therefore, was deemed acceptable.