~ Zoo - Unspoken Bonds ~
Jasper, a young blacktail deer, gets a summer job, and finds himself in a mental quandary...
- ZOO - ~ Unspoken Bonds ~
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
14th March 2025
All Rights Reserved.
In the quiet of a summer spent on a miniature horse farm, Jasper is forced to confront the desires he’s kept buried for years. But when temptation crosses the line, he’s left questioning everything he thought he knew about himself—and the one person who sees through his walls. Will he run from the truth, or embrace the bonds that tie him to what he never thought he could have?
Jasper stepped out of the dusty old truck, hooves crunching on the gravel driveway as he saw the miniature horse stud. Rolling pastures stretched beyond the wooden fences, dotted with sleek little mares grazing under the morning sun. A warm breeze carried the scent of hay, leather, and the unmistakable musk of horses—strong, earthy, familiar.
His ears flicked forward at the sound of boots on the wooden porch. Rowan, his new boss, stood with his arms crossed, appraising Jasper with a quiet, unreadable gaze. The human was taller than he'd expected, broad-shouldered, with a weathered face that spoke of years spent under the sun.
"You're the new hand?" Rowan asked.
"Yes, sir. Jasper," the young buck answered, shifting his bag on his shoulder.
Rowan nodded. "Come on, then. I'll show you around."
Jasper followed as the man strode across the yard, leading him past several paddocks. The mares inside pricked their ears as they passed, some ambling closer, curious about the newcomer.
"These are the foundation mares—good bloodlines, good temperaments. Your job is to feed, groom, muck out stalls, and keep an eye on 'em. Foaling season’s a ways off, but we’ll need to prep the nursery barn soon." Rowan gestured toward a neat row of stalls. "You ever worked with minis before?"
"Not specifically, but I’ve been around horses all my life," Jasper replied.
Rowan gave a satisfied grunt. "That'll do. They may be small, but they’re still horses—don’t let the size fool you."
Jasper’s gaze wandered toward the largest paddock at the far end of the property, his nose catching the faintest trace of stallion scent on the breeze. His tail flicked, ears twitching forward. "Where’s your stud?"
Rowan didn’t hesitate. "Leased out for a few days—another farm needed him to cover their mares. He’ll be back soon enough." His tone was casual, and convincing. Jasper nodded, accepting the answer without question.
They moved on to the feed room, where Rowan explained the rations, grain mixtures, and turnout schedules. The routine was simple but steady—hard work, early mornings, late evenings. Jasper took it all in, listening carefully, but his mind lingered on the empty paddock. Something about it felt… off.
Jasper lingered by the fence line as Rowan finished explaining the daily routines. The young buck’s gaze drifted toward the mares again—small, elegant, their coats gleaming in the sunlight. A few had wandered closer, ears pricked forward, soft noses flaring as they took in his scent.
One particularly bold little mare, a deep bay with a flowing black mane, stretched her muzzle toward him. Jasper chuckled softly and reached out, letting her whiskers brush his fingertips before he stroked along her cheek. His touch was light, and reverent, as if he was handling something far more delicate than the sturdy little horse before him.
“Hey, girl,” he murmured, running his fingers down her sleek neck. The mare leaned into him, eyes half-lidding in contentment. Another pressed her nose against his palm, warm breath ghosting over his fur as she nickered softly. Jasper let out a slow breath, his ears twitching back in quiet pleasure.
Rowan, standing just a few paces behind, watched without a word.
On the surface, there was nothing unusual about the scene—a new farmhand getting acquainted with the stock, a natural ease between him and the animals. But Rowan's sharp, knowing gaze didn’t waver.
The way Jasper touched them—it wasn’t just affection. It was more than the appreciation of a horseman admiring fine animals. It was the softness in his eyes, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long, how he exhaled a little deeper when the mares leaned against him. A subtle but unmistakable reverence.
Rowan’s expression didn’t shift, but deep inside, something stirred.
He’d suspected it the moment he laid eyes on Jasper—something in the way the buck carried himself, in the careful words he chose when speaking about animals. Now, watching him with the mares, that suspicion settled into certainty.
Jasper belonged here.
He just didn’t know it yet.
Rowan cleared his throat. Jasper blinked and pulled his hand back as if just realizing how lost in the moment he’d been. His ears flicked slightly, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“They’re friendly,” he said, almost sheepish.
“They are,” Rowan agreed, his voice level, unreadable. “You’ve got a way with them.”
Jasper shrugged, shifting on his hooves. “Just always felt comfortable around animals, I guess.”
Rowan nodded, saying nothing more.
He didn’t need to.
Jasper rolled up his sleeves and got to work. The scent of fresh hay and sawdust filled the air as he forked out old bedding, the rhythmic scrape of metal against wood blending with the occasional soft nickers from the mares. The work was familiar, almost meditative—something solid and grounding.
Rowan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching. Not hovering, not giving orders—just watching.
Jasper felt the weight of that gaze but didn’t acknowledge it. He focused instead on his task, making sure each stall was done properly, the bedding thick and fresh. When he finished, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his ears flicking slightly.
“How’d I do?” he asked, glancing up at Rowan.
The man gave a slow nod. “Good work. You’ve done this before.”
Jasper shrugged. “Yeah. My folks had horses when I was younger.”
Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped aside as Jasper grabbed a bale of hay, hoisting it onto his shoulder with ease. He was strong—lean but well-built, his movements fluid and practised. The mares watched him, ears swivelling, some nosing at him as he passed. He was already earning their trust.
Rowan finally spoke as Jasper spread the flakes of hay into the feeders. “You asked about the stallion earlier.”
Jasper’s ears twitched, his tail flicking slightly. “Yeah. Just figured I’d see him.”
Rowan gave a casual shrug. “Like I said, leased out for a few days. He’ll be back soon enough.”
Something in his tone was so natural, so easy, that Jasper didn’t question it. He simply nodded, brushing bits of hay from his arms. “Guess that makes sense.”
Rowan hummed, watching the way Jasper ran a slow hand over the mare’s withers, his fingers grazing the short, silky fur there. A small, pleased sigh escaped Jasper before he caught himself and pulled away, clearing his throat.
Rowan’s lips twitched, just slightly.
“You’ve got the rest of the afternoon to get familiar with the place,” Rowan said finally, pushing off the doorframe. “Finish up here, then take a walk around. Get a feel for the layout. We start early.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rowan nodded and turned, leaving Jasper alone with the mares.
Jasper exhaled, running a hand through his fur. He could still feel Rowan’s gaze on him, even though the man had gone. It wasn’t judgmental, wasn’t harsh—just… measuring. Like he was taking the full measure of who Jasper was, even if Jasper himself wasn’t quite sure yet.
Shrugging off the thought, he got back to work.
As the afternoon wore on, the work didn’t change. Jasper moved with ease among the mares, grooming and feeding them, his touch gentle, unhurried, the kind of attention that spoke of something deeper than the simple care of an animal. He wasn’t just brushing their coats or tossing hay into their stalls—he was bonding with them, his quiet, serene presence something the mares seemed to respond to as much as he did to them.
Rowan watched from the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Jasper’s movements. The way the young buck’s fingers lingered over the mares’ coats, the small, almost imperceptible sighs that escaped his lips as he stroked their manes, the way his gaze softened when one of them nuzzled against him—it wasn’t just affection. It was a connection. Something beyond a job, beyond routine.
Rowan’s gaze sharpened slightly, though he said nothing. He wasn’t certain, not yet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Jasper than he let on. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the way the mares seemed to respond to him—there was something else. Something deeper.
He had seen it before, in other hands, in other places. The bond between animals and those who truly understood them, who saw them not just as creatures to be cared for but as… partners. It was rare. And in some ways, it was dangerous.
But that was the thing about Jasper. Rowan couldn’t quite place it—he didn’t want to place it. Not yet.
When Jasper finished brushing down one of the mares, he straightened, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He smiled, content, before turning toward Rowan, unaware of the human’s watchful eyes.
“How’d I do?” Jasper asked, his voice light as if he hadn’t noticed the weight of Rowan’s gaze.
Rowan met his eyes, but only for a moment. “You’ve got a way with them,” he said quietly, not giving anything away. “It’s clear you know your way around horses.”
Jasper nodded, his ears flicking back briefly. “Yeah. Learned a lot growing up.”
Rowan didn’t press, but there was a stillness in the air now. A moment of quiet between them. The kind of silence that was both comfortable and heavy with unspoken things.
Jasper turned back toward the mares, as though Rowan’s quiet praise was enough. But Rowan didn’t look away. He kept his distance, letting Jasper be himself. For now.
*
Chapter Two: Meeting the Stallion
Jasper woke with a startled gasp, his breath shallow as he tried to settle into the unfamiliar surroundings. The scents, the room—none of it felt like home, like what he had grown up in. Slowly, the fog of sleep lifted, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes as he gazed around, still groggy. The morning light crept through the cracks in the wooden blinds, casting slanted beams across the room as Jasper stretched, his muscles aching from the previous day's work. There was a quiet satisfaction in the rhythm of it all, even if his body protested.
Yawning, he pushed the blanket off and swung his hooves onto the cool wooden floor. He shuffled toward the door, still heavy with sleep. The scent of hay and leather lingered in the air, a reminder of the mares he'd spent the evening with. It was a peaceful feeling—but something gnawed at the edges of his mind, the strange unease after reading Rowan's last words.
Opening the door, he stepped out into the cool, crisp morning air. The sun was just rising, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. As he crossed the gravel yard, his eyes caught something unusual—a scrap of paper pinned to the doorframe of his room.
His brow furrowed. He hadn't noticed it the night before.
He stepped closer and peeled it free, the rusty nail making a soft screech as it came loose. Unfolding it, his gaze quickly scanned the words:
Jasper,
Something came up, and I’ve had to head out for a few days. I trust you to handle things in my absence—you’re doing good work, and the girls love you.
Just a quick note—watch out for Frederick, our stallion. They dropped him off this morning. Feisty bastard. He’s sweet and gentle enough until you turn your back, then he’ll either kick you or bite you or both. Keep your distance unless you're sure you're in control. I trust you, but don’t let your guard down with him.
Take care,
Rowan
Jasper blinked at the note, his ears flicking back in mild surprise. Rowan was gone? The man had mentioned leaving briefly, but this felt... too soon.
He read the note again, his mind circling around the mention of Frederick, the stallion. A feisty bastard, Rowan had said. The words were sharp, like an unspoken warning, and they set his nerves on edge. Jasper wasn’t unfamiliar with stallions—he had worked with horses enough to know how to be cautious, but something about this felt different. There was a sense of urgency in Rowan’s words, a hint of something more behind them. The note hadn’t warned him about any other animals—just Frederick. The stallion.
Jasper folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, its slight weight pressing against his chest. He had been entrusted to handle things, to prove himself—but this? This felt different.
His gaze shifted to the paddock, empty for now, but the warning still hung in the air. Was Frederick just a typical, temperamental stallion, or was there something more Rowan had been trying to hint at? Something he wasn’t saying?
With a slow, deep breath, Jasper turned toward the stables, a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension building in him.
Frederick stood at the far end of the stable, his glossy black coat dappled with streaks of white that gleamed in the soft morning light. The miniature stallion was smaller than most, but his presence was anything but small. His ears were flat against his skull, and his nostrils flared as he pawed at the ground, eyes locked on Jasper with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
Jasper had read Rowan’s note more than once, the warning about Frederick clear in his mind. Feisty bastard. It wasn’t just a warning—it felt like a challenge.
Taking a deep breath, Jasper approached, his steps slow and deliberate. He didn’t want to rush it. He had handled difficult horses before, both the real ones and those less tangible, metaphorical stallions. He had learned restraint, how to read their moods, and when to assert himself.
Frederick raised his head and snorted, his tail flicking sharply against his flank. His eyes, narrowed and calculating, fixed on Jasper with disdain, the kind of dismissive look one might give a rival.
Jasper stopped outside the stallion's range, arms at his sides, his body relaxed but attentive. He wasn’t about to make the first move—this was Frederick’s show. The stallion's posture was tense, the muscles in his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap.
Slowly, Jasper took a small step forward, his gaze steady but not challenging. He wasn’t sure what Frederick would do next, but he had to stay calm. The stallion was studying him, his ears flicking back and forth in quick, irritated movements.
Without warning, Frederick lunged, snapping at Jasper’s arm with a vicious, fast strike. The sharp movement startled the young buck, and he instinctively took a half-step back, his heart racing. But he didn’t retreat completely. He stood firm, his stance adjusting to signal respect—no fear, but awareness.
The stallion snorted and bared his teeth, his lips curling slightly as he turned in a sharp circle, hooves clattering against the ground. The challenge was clear: Frederick was testing him, pushing him.
Jasper’s stomach tightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He knew the stakes were high here. He raised one hand slowly, palm open, showing he wasn’t a threat. Frederick pinned his ears again, his body tense, but Jasper didn’t flinch.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, each sizing the other up. Then, slowly, Frederick took a step back, lowering his head slightly, as though conceding that Jasper wasn’t an easy target.
A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Jasper took another cautious step forward, his heart still hammering but his breath steady. The stallion flicked his tail, but otherwise, he remained still, allowing the young buck to approach, just a little closer.
*
Chapter Three: Unnatural Urges
Jasper leaned against the wooden fence, his gaze fixed on Frederick as the stallion moved fluidly alongside the mare in the paddock. His eyes were sharp, tracking the stallion’s every move with quiet intensity. Frederick’s trot was graceful, calculated, nipping at the mare's side, but never too forcefully. It was a controlled dance—one that suggested dominance, yet there was something tender beneath it, something that Jasper couldn’t quite grasp.
There was a strange beauty in how Frederick handled the mare. His movements were bold but not violent, assertive but not aggressive. He was strong, yet there was a gentleness woven into his actions as if he were guiding the mare rather than taking from her. It was unlike anything Jasper had seen before. The stallion was not just an animal in the paddock—he was a force, a creature of pure instinct, but with an intelligence behind those eyes that Jasper couldn’t ignore.
"Rowan’s right," Jasper murmured to himself. "Feisty…but gentle, too." The words felt hollow coming out of his mouth, though, for there was something more than admiration seeping into his tone.
The heat in his chest was building again. His thoughts were racing, trying to deny the unsettling stirrings he felt as he watched the stallion work with the mare. He had seen animals mate countless times on the farm, but this felt different. The roughness he’d seen before had always repelled him—the frantic, almost desperate energy that left him wanting to look away. But this was... controlled. Calm. Frederick’s movements were precise and thoughtful, his care for the mare obvious in the way he nudged her gently, guiding her through each motion.
Jasper swallowed hard as Frederick closed in on the mare, his breathing growing heavier. The mare, who had seemed playful just moments ago, now stood still, her body tense as Frederick positioned himself. The sight made Jasper’s heart race. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.
A flutter of warmth washed through him, something that twisted in his gut. He clenched his jaw, trying to force the thoughts back. Get a grip, he told himself. But his heart beat faster, and the heat in his chest became a pressure that was hard to ignore.
What would it be like, he wondered, to be that mare? To be taken by Frederick in that way—not roughly, but with care and strength? He could feel his body reacting to the thought, the heat intensifying. The fantasy had always lurked in the back of his mind, hidden away. But now, watching Frederick, it felt more real, more vivid, and it terrified him. Could he want something like that?
But it was the way Frederick treated the mare—gentle, yet dominant—that struck something deep inside him. It felt... right. He couldn’t shake the thought, the longing that had taken root in his chest.
The fantasy grew more insistent, becoming harder to ignore. He shuddered, a knot twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. No, no, I couldn’t be that mare, he thought, but it was hard to deny the pull he felt. This wasn’t the same as his previous experiences—this was something deeper, something more intimate.
As Frederick mounted the mare with fluid grace, Jasper’s breath caught in his throat. The sight of it—controlled, calculated, and intimate—seared into his mind. He couldn’t look away.
Chapter Four: Work Never Ends
Jasper woke early, the lingering heaviness of the previous night keeping him from rest. Rowan’s note had burned itself into his thoughts: Something came up. I’ve had to leave for a few days…
Rowan’s absence felt more than just physical; it left an emptiness that seemed to echo throughout the barn. There was something about Rowan—his presence, calm yet commanding—that Jasper had come to rely on. Without him, everything seemed more difficult, more isolating.
Jasper dressed in silence, pulling on his boots, his movements mechanical. He glanced out the window, the early morning light streaming in, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The work on the farm never ended, but with Rowan gone, the weight of responsibility pressed more heavily on him.
He stepped outside into the cool air, pausing at the paddocks. Frederick stood there, his dark form powerful and imposing against the morning sky. The stallion was a constant presence on the farm, but today, his mere presence seemed to shift the air itself.
Jasper had been avoiding Frederick ever since their last encounter. The stallion had tested him, and pushed him into vulnerability, but there had been something strangely respectful in the way he backed off. Still, the thought of being near the massive animal made Jasper’s stomach churn. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face Frederick—or whatever this strange pull was between them.
The mares needed care, though, and Jasper knew there was no escaping his responsibilities. The barn, the paddocks, the stables—they all required his attention. He forced himself to focus on the work ahead, trying to push the uneasy tension from his chest.
Inside the barn, the silence was thick. The only sounds were the occasional shuffle of hooves or the soft snorts of the mares. Jasper’s hands were busy, but his thoughts wandered. Frederick, though still distant, was close by. The stallion stood with a relaxed grace, his massive frame seemingly at ease, yet still exuding an almost unshakable authority.
Jasper’s eyes flicked over to Frederick, and for the briefest moment, his gaze lingered. The stallion’s body was relaxed, his member hanging loosely. It was a natural sight—nothing obscene—but for some reason, it made Jasper’s heart stutter in his chest.
He quickly tore his eyes away, his face flushing with heat. His body was betraying him, and he hated it.
The silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, something that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. Jasper could feel Frederick’s gaze on him, though the stallion didn’t move. The weight of his attention was unmistakable, yet there was no aggression in it, only a silent challenge.
Jasper shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing heat in his chest. Then, just as he was about to look away, Frederick took a step forward, his head lowering slightly. The stallion’s dark eyes caught his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to that gaze.
The tension in the air was palpable. It wasn’t the aggressive charge he had feared, but something else—something deeper, more primal.
Jasper hesitated. He wanted to back away, to distance himself, but instead, he found himself drawn to Frederick. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers trembling as they extended toward the stallion.
Frederick, ever watchful, regarded the hand for a long moment before stepping forward, his warm breath brushing against Jasper’s fingers. The touch was electric—Jasper froze, his breath hitching in his chest. The simple connection sent a shock through him, something raw and undeniable.
But then, as if sensing his hesitation, Frederick nipped at his arm playfully, pulling Jasper from his thoughts. It wasn’t a hard nip—just a reminder of the stallion’s presence, of the subtle dominance that lingered in every interaction.
Jasper’s heart raced, but there was something else in his chest—something darker, more complicated. The nip didn’t hurt, but the way Frederick had done it, with an air of amusement, made him feel exposed, caught in a moment he wasn’t sure how to navigate.
And yet, the stallion did not press. Instead, he stepped back, lowering his head in a more relaxed posture, as if waiting for Jasper to figure things out on his own. The silence stretched between them once more, but it no longer felt comfortable. Something was shifting, something changing, and Jasper couldn’t deny the feeling that something had irrevocably altered their dynamic.
As Frederick calmly turned away, Jasper was left standing there, his chest tight and his thoughts swirling. What had just happened? What was this pull he couldn’t seem to shake?
*
Chapter Five: Weight of Desire
Jasper had spent the early part of the day with the mares, feeding them and tending to their needs, but the quiet of the barn after that felt strange, almost unnerving.
It wasn’t just the emptiness in the air, the absence of Rowan’s presence—it was Frederick. The stallion had been… different today. There was something about the way he moved, the way he watched him, that sent a shiver down Jasper’s spine. It was almost as if Frederick knew he was being observed, knew that Jasper was both drawn to him and hesitant, his emotions tangled.
Jasper stood at the entrance of the stall, eyes scanning the dark shape of the stallion. Frederick stood motionless, his glossy coat glistening in the soft light, his muscles rippling with every slight shift of his weight. He was an impressive creature, majestic and powerful, his presence enough to command the entire barn.
Jasper’s hand twitched at his side, almost instinctively reaching for the halter on the shelf, but he paused. The thought that had been swirling in his mind for the past few days came rushing back: What if it wasn’t just about the work?
The stallion’s eyes were fixed on him now, gleaming like two dark pools. There was a tension in the air, a kind of unspoken challenge. Frederick’s nostrils flared and his ears pricked forward, signalling awareness of Jasper’s gaze. Slowly, the stallion stepped forward, one hoof delicately placed in front of the other, his movements graceful but deliberate.
Jasper felt his breath catch. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the stallion approach, an involuntary tug at his chest. His instincts screamed at him to step back, to maintain the distance between them, but something deeper within him urged him to stay, to not pull away.
The closer Frederick came, the more his presence seemed to fill the space. Jasper stood frozen, unable to look away, as the stallion halted just a few feet from him. The air was thick with the scent of hay and the faint, musky smell of the stallion’s coat.
“Easy, boy…” Jasper murmured under his breath, more for his comfort than for the horse. His hands, trembling slightly, reached out. But before he could touch Frederick’s muzzle, the stallion tossed his head, a low snort escaping his nostrils.
Jasper froze. It was a warning—a signal that Frederick wasn’t interested in being approached on his terms. His ears were back, his muscles tense.
But there was something else in the way the stallion moved, something that gave Jasper pause. It wasn’t the aggression he expected. Instead, there was a strange… curiosity in Frederick’s eyes, something that mirrored the unease Jasper had been trying to ignore for days.
Jasper swallowed hard, unsure of what to do next. Should he step away? Should he wait?
The stallion’s presence, that quiet dominance, made him feel small, almost insignificant in comparison. But there was no fear—not real fear. Just the overwhelming sense of being caught in the midst of something unknown, something forbidden, and yet tantalizing.
Jasper took a deep breath and reached out again, more slowly this time. His fingers brushed the edge of Frederick’s mane, feeling the warmth of the stallion’s body as the animal shifted slightly under the touch.
The moment felt electric, charged. Frederick’s head lowered slightly, his nostrils flaring as his dark eyes studied Jasper closely. There was a flicker of something in those eyes—a silent understanding, maybe even approval.
It made Jasper’s pulse race. His breath hitched, and he fought the urge to pull away. What is happening? The thought echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Frederick didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his large body pressing against the edge of the stall, filling the space between them. His presence was overwhelming—every muscle in his body radiated power, but there was a calmness to it, a stillness that seemed to invite Jasper in.
Jasper’s hand trembled, but he didn’t pull it back. He let it rest against the stallion’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of Frederick’s body through the soft coat. For a moment, it almost felt like they were the only two in the world, as though everything else faded into the background.
Then, unexpectedly, Frederick nipped at the air, his teeth grazing Jasper’s sleeve in a playful, almost teasing way. The sudden movement made Jasper gasp, pulling his hand back instinctively. But before he could step away, the stallion gave a soft, almost amused snort.
Jasper’s heart skipped a beat. His pulse was pounding in his ears now, and he couldn’t tell if it was fear, excitement, or something else entirely. He glanced at the stallion’s face again, his breath shallow.
He’s testing me. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Frederick wasn’t just letting him touch him—he was pushing boundaries, seeing how far he could go, how much Jasper would allow.
And for the first time, Jasper wasn’t sure if he would resist.
He backed away, slowly, his feet dragging against the hay. He had to get control of himself, to regain some semblance of normality. But as he retreated, he couldn’t shake the image of Frederick, standing there with that calm, knowing expression.
Jasper’s breath was uneven as he looked down at his hands, the trembling still present in his fingers. His heart was racing—not out of fear, but something deeper, something that scared him more than anything.
I can’t want this, he thought, trying to steady his thoughts. But the truth was clearer than ever: He wants me to submit.
The question gnawed at him, a whisper in the back of his mind: Would I?
He glanced over his shoulder at Frederick, whose eyes were now half-lidded, watching him quietly.
Jasper swallowed. I don’t know.
But he was afraid that, deep down, he already knew the answer.
Frederick's stall, no, the barn felt stifling, the air thick with the lingering tension between them. Jasper's hand trembled, his mind racing, but he couldn’t stop himself from stealing another glance at Frederick. The stallion stood there, unmoving now, watching him with dark, steady eyes, as if he were waiting for something more.
Jasper quickly turned away, the heat in his cheeks a sure sign of how flustered he was. I shouldn’t be here, he thought, his pulse still pounding in his ears. The feeling of Frederick’s presence, so close and so powerful, lingered in his chest like a weight. He wasn’t sure what had happened, what had changed between them, but something was different. Frederick’s attention, his quiet intensity, had stirred something inside of him that felt both thrilling and terrifying.
He cast a nervous glance toward the door. What if Rowan comes back? The thought sent a jolt of panic through him. He wasn’t supposed to be alone with Frederick—not like this. If Rowan came back and saw what was happening, what would he think? Would he know? Would he—
A soft snort broke through his spiralling thoughts, and before he could process it, Frederick was closer again, his large body blocking the narrow entrance to the stall. The stallion’s eyes were half-lidded, his ears flicking back and forth as he stood there, a knowing presence, unbothered by Jasper’s discomfort.
Jasper swallowed hard. The stallion wasn’t being aggressive, but there was something undeniably predatory in the way he moved, his every step calculated, and deliberate. He’s playing with me, Jasper thought, his stomach flipping with unease.
Frederick nudged him gently with his muzzle, just below his shoulder, a light touch that was almost teasing in its lightness. Jasper’s body jerked in response, surprised by the softness of it, but when he looked up at the stallion’s face, he saw that Frederick’s eyes were steady—almost amused. The nudge was a test, a subtle challenge to see how Jasper would react.
Jasper felt his breath catch. He wanted to pull away, but his body betrayed him, staying rooted to the spot as Frederick nudged him again, this time more insistently. The stallion’s muzzle brushed against his neck, the soft, warm touch sending a shiver down Jasper’s spine. He could smell the earthy scent of Frederick’s coat, and something deeper—a musk that made his heart race.
Stop, just stop, Jasper’s mind screamed at him. He couldn’t be doing this. He couldn’t be falling into this strange, animalistic pull. Not with Frederick. Not with anyone. But the stallion was insistent, persistent, nudging him again, this time along his jaw, almost as if he were grooming him, testing him like one of the mares.
Jasper instinctively pulled back, but Frederick’s large head followed him, his hot breath now against his skin. There was a brief moment when the two of them locked eyes and the weight of Frederick’s gaze was almost unbearable. It wasn’t just the stallion’s intensity—it was the feeling that he knew, that he could sense the longing beneath Jasper’s nervous exterior.
And that made the fear rise again.
What if Rowan saw them like this? What would he think if he caught Jasper responding to Frederick’s advances? The thought of being caught, of being discovered, sent a shudder of dread through him. What if I’m found out? Jasper’s heart raced at the thought of being exposed, of Rowan knowing his secret, of being caught in something so unnatural.
But the worst part? Deep down, he wasn’t sure he cared.
The stallion’s nuzzle against his neck shifted, now brushing against his ear, warm and soft, and the next moment, a playful nip followed, just grazing his skin. It wasn’t painful, but the suddenness of it made Jasper gasp, his body jerking involuntarily.
The playful gesture had the opposite effect of what it was likely intended to do—it made him want to lean into Frederick’s touch, to feel that playful, teasing bite again. The way the stallion acted, so sure of himself, so calm and in control, it was all so familiar. This was how the stallion courted the mares, wasn’t it? Gentle nudges, teasing bites, the soft brushing of his muzzle against their coats.
Jasper’s breath hitched. He was no stranger to watching the stallion with the mares—how gentle he was, how patient, how deliberate in his movements. Frederick wasn’t like some of the other, more aggressive stallions he had seen. No, Frederick was slow, and methodical, but undeniably confident in his presence. The mares didn’t fear him—they respected him.
Jasper’s cheeks flushed as he thought of the way he had watched Frederick court the mares, the way he had never quite felt so drawn to the process before. I want to be that mare, the thought whispered in the back of his mind. I want to be the one he… But he quickly silenced that thought, a fresh wave of guilt flooding him. This is wrong. This is so wrong.
Yet, the pull, the temptation, was undeniable. He hadn’t asked for this—he hadn’t wanted this—but now that it had begun, he didn’t know how to stop it. And Frederick seemed to know, too, pressing the boundaries of what Jasper could stand without pushing too far.
Jasper found himself trembling, his breath shallow, but Frederick didn’t stop. The stallion was relentless in his curiosity, his playful nips becoming more frequent, his muzzle brushing along Jasper’s jaw again before settling just beside his neck.
With each nudge, each gentle push, the pressure in Jasper’s chest tightened, and his internal conflict deepened. I can’t do this, he thought again. But when Frederick’s head lowered, just a little, his weight shifting ever so slightly toward Jasper’s back, the buck’s body tensed. He felt something inside of him tremble, something more than fear.
No, stop. I don’t want this, he thought, his voice faint against the heat rising in his chest.
But when Frederick finally nipped at him once more, just lightly, at his ear, the flicker of amusement in the stallion’s dark eyes was unmistakable.
Jasper’s heart pounded. He glanced at the stallion’s body, the way Frederick stood there—so sure, so confident. And though he knew Rowan wasn’t far, wasn’t anywhere to be seen, something else seemed to linger in the air.
What if I’m caught?
The thought lingered for a moment longer, but it soon faded into something far darker, more intoxicating. With that fleeting moment of fear came a realization that scared him more than anything.
Jasper wanted this. More than he was willing to admit.
And now, it was just a matter of how far he would go.
Jasper’s heart raced as he led Frederick toward the far corner of the barn, where the hay was stacked high. His mind was a blur of conflicting thoughts—fear, desire, guilt—but the more he tried to focus, the more the weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him. He could feel Frederick's heavy presence behind him, the stallion's breath warm on his back, the faint snort of impatience in the air.
The stallion was quiet, his hooves clopping softly on the dirt floor as they moved. His eyes, dark and intense, never strayed far from Jasper. The way Frederick moved—so purposeful, so confident—made every inch of him feel small, unsteady, as if the very space between them was charged with an unspoken promise.
Jasper reached the hay, pausing to look over his shoulder at the stallion. Frederick stood at the entrance to the corner, his posture stiff, his attention fixed entirely on him. It was as if he were waiting for something, something more than just the ordinary, something Jasper couldn’t fully comprehend.
Taking a deep breath, Jasper stepped forward and pulled a bale of hay toward him, dragging it with a quiet grunt. His hands were shaky, the muscles in his arms trembling with the effort of pulling it into position. As the bale shifted into place, he glanced back at Frederick, whose gaze had followed him intently. The stallion’s ears flicked, the subtle signs of impatience growing in the air.
Jasper hesitated, his fingers grazing the rough texture of an old blanket he’d placed nearby. Slowly, he spread it over the hay, smoothing out the creases. It was an instinct—an act of creating comfort in the midst of the whirlwind of thoughts that spiralled in his mind. He didn’t know why he did it; it was just what felt right, even if it was absurd. This wasn’t just about the barn or the hay. It was about the pull, the irresistible force that Frederick had created between them.
Frederick’s nostrils flared, a soft snort of frustration slipping from his muzzle. The stallion took a step forward, his hooves pressing into the ground with a slow, deliberate rhythm, and then another. It was clear now—the patience was wearing thin. He wasn’t just a stallion watching from the sidelines anymore. He was something else entirely, and whatever Jasper had prepared for him, it wasn’t enough.
Jasper could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t the hay or the blanket or even the barn he was thinking of. It was Frederick—the stallion’s overwhelming presence, the power that radiated from him with each calculated movement. And yet, despite the frustration building in Frederick, something held him back, something more than the instinct to mount. Something in the way he watched Jasper, his posture a mixture of interest and tempered restraint.
Jasper bit his lip and glanced up at the stallion, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You... you want this, don’t you?” he murmured, though it was more of a question to himself than anything else. His words felt small, insignificant under the weight of Frederick’s stare.
Frederick’s ears flicked back as if responding to the words. There was no answer, only that unrelenting gaze. The stallion pawed at the ground once, his tail swishing with a sudden burst of frustration.
Jasper couldn’t hold back any longer. The tremor in his limbs grew, and with a shaky breath, he began to disrobe, slowly and with trembling hands. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, the fabric falling away with a quiet rustle. Each piece of clothing that he removed felt heavier than the last, but the act was one he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
As the last piece of clothing came away, leaving him exposed under the dim light of the barn, he kneeled over the bale of hay, trying to steady his breath, trying to silence the chaos in his mind. His legs were unsteady, his body trembling from the fear and excitement coursing through him. The hay beneath him was soft but not enough to ease the tension in his chest. His fingers dug into the blanket, holding on as though it could anchor him to something familiar, something safe.
The stallion remained where he stood, his eyes never leaving Jasper, his presence so overwhelming it was like a weight on his shoulders. The anticipation in the air was thick, like the very space around them was charged with electricity. Frederick’s nostrils flared as he took a step closer, his head held high, his muscles rippling with each movement.
Jasper could feel his breath catch in his throat as the stallion’s approach drew nearer. His body froze for a moment—caught between fear and something else, something deeper that he didn’t want to acknowledge. This is wrong, his mind screamed, but the rest of him—his heart, his body—was already too far gone.
The stallion stopped just behind him, close enough that Jasper could feel the heat radiating from his body. The air smelled of hay and musk, of wildness, of something untamed. And then, without warning, Frederick nudged the back of Jasper’s neck with his muzzle. The touch was gentle, almost affectionate, but there was an undeniable weight to it. He was testing, probing.
Jasper’s breath hitched, and a soft gasp escaped him as the stallion pressed closer, his body almost brushing against his. The stallion’s scent filled his senses, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he felt everything collapse into something raw, something primal.
But it was the warmth of the stallion’s body that lingered—the heat against his back, the press of muscles beneath his coat. Jasper's legs tensed, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. The silence was almost suffocating as the stallion’s muzzle lingered near the base of his neck, and Jasper’s thoughts seemed to swirl around him, caught between the overwhelming presence of the stallion and the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.
This isn’t real. His mind insisted, but the pounding of his heart, and the fluttering in his stomach, told him a different story.
A soft nudge. Frederick’s muzzle brushed against his shoulder, pressing him slightly forward as if coaxing him into something, testing his reaction. The tension between them thickened, and Jasper swallowed, feeling the weight of his hesitation.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted, what he was supposed to do. His body screamed one thing—his heart something else entirely. But there was no turning back now.
Jasper's breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he knelt over the bale, trembling under the weight of both his fear and desire. Frederick circled him, his body a massive presence behind the buck, sending waves of heat that set Jasper's pulse racing. The stallion’s movements were slow but deliberate, his massive form brushing against Jasper in a way that both comforted and unsettled him. Each shift of Frederick's body sent a shiver through the young buck.
Jasper’s heart raced as he felt Frederick's breath against his neck, hot and heavy, the soft flick of his tail brushing against the back of Jasper’s legs. The stallion’s teeth nipped gently at the buck's shoulder, a teasing, playful gesture that sent a bolt of heat straight through him. The stallion’s presence was overwhelming, his dominance undeniable, and yet there was something about the way Frederick moved, the way he seemed to adjust his actions to Jasper’s nervous energy, that both soothed and excited him.
As Frederick began to push forward, a low bleat of surprise escaped Jasper’s throat, his body tensing instinctively. He couldn’t help it. The stallion’s motions weren’t entirely familiar, his movements slightly off, a misalignment in the way their bodies came together. Jasper gasped as he felt the weight of Frederick’s body above him, the stallion’s size pressing down in ways that left him breathless, unsure of what to expect next.
Frederick, sensing the hesitation, slowed, giving Jasper a moment to adjust, but the tension remained thick in the air. Jasper’s eyes were wide, his muzzle trembling, a soft, fearful gasp leaving his lips as he tried to catch his breath. The stallion’s body moved again, this time with more purpose, and more confidence. The weight, the heat, the pressing intimacy—it all seemed to intensify with each movement, each shift of Frederick’s body against his own.
Jasper’s body responded though it was reluctant at first. He couldn't stop the shiver of excitement that ran through him, the pull of Frederick’s dominance mixed with the confusion and fear that tugged at him. His breath hitched as Frederick’s body pressed closer, the stallion’s teeth sinking gently into the muscle of his shoulder in an almost possessive gesture.
The intensity of the moment surged as Jasper’s body betrayed him, reaching a peak he couldn’t control, the rush of sensation overtaking him as he held back the moans that rose in his chest. His hands gripped the bale in front of him, his muscles quivering as the pressure built, not just physically but emotionally—an overwhelming, uncontrollable mix of sensations that left him gasping.
The stallion’s movements became more frantic, a low snort escaping Frederick as his tail flagged, his hips moving quicker and quicker the tension in his body mirroring the heightened urgency in Jasper’s. The two of them, locked in this moment of connection, reached the climax of their experience. Jasper’s body responded in ways he couldn’t stop, his body tense and releasing in waves, while Frederick’s own movements grew more insistent.
Finally, as the tension reached its peak, Jasper let out a muffled moan, a soft, strained sound that echoed the intensity of the moment. The stallion’s final movement came with a sharpness that left the buck breathless, Frederick’s teeth still pressed lightly into Jasper’s shoulder as he reached the culmination of their shared experience. Frederick's climax shook Jasper to his very core.
They were left still, quiet, the weight of the silence between them only broken by their ragged breaths. Jasper’s body trembled as he sprawled bonelessly on the bale, his mind racing, his heart pounding, caught between the fear of what had just happened and the undeniable feeling of completion that had swept over him.
Frederick, still close, gave a soft snort of amusement, as though he could sense the confusion, the mixture of feelings inside Jasper. The stallion stood over him for a moment longer before stepping away, that pressure from within Jasper bringing another explosive climax, shattering the young buck. He moaned and lay against the bale, broken, gasping, a fantasy, long-buried within him – fulfilled, as the stallion had left him fulfilled, literally and figuratively. Frederick nuzzled Jasper, before walking away, still dribbling a little semen on the stable floor, before stopping and looking back at his newest mare. With a satisfied snort, Frederick left the stable and wandered off into the field to graze.
*
Chapter Six: Crushing Weight of Guilt
Jasper's dreams were a chaotic blur. His body ached, and the weight of what he had done pressed heavily on his chest. He had never imagined he could do what he had done, let alone want to. And yet, he had.
He lay tangled in his sheets, trembling with exhaustion and a whirlwind of emotions. His mind raced, thoughts colliding in chaotic spirals. I did it... I let him... His chest tightened at the thought. I shouldn't have. It was wrong, unnatural. How could I...? His mind screamed, condemning him for his weakness, for giving in to something so forbidden.
But then another voice, quieter and more insistent, crept in. Yet... it felt good, didn’t it? The question was subtle, almost a whisper, but it gnawed at him, refusing to be ignored. It wasn’t entirely... unpleasant.
Jasper squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the memory of the night—the warmth, the connection, the intimacy—lingered. His body felt sore, yet there was an undeniable rush, an adrenaline still pulsing through him, even as guilt began to overshadow it.
He buried his face in the pillow, pressing it against his muzzle as though to smother the conflicting thoughts. His heart raced with shame, but in the back of his mind, the embers of desire were still burning—an unspoken longing he couldn’t fully comprehend. He shuddered at the realization, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling under the weight of it all.
The sobs came before he realized they were there. Silent, but deep, heavy sobs wracked his frame. He couldn’t stop them. It felt like the world was closing in on him, the guilt and the shame threatening to swallow him whole.
What have I done? he thought desperately, but he didn’t know how to undo it. He didn’t know how to make it go away.
Eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving him emotionally drained. His body ached, but it wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the weight of what he had allowed himself to become, the conflict that had torn him apart from within.
He knew he couldn’t stay. If he stayed, next time... next time he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He wouldn’t be able to fight the pull, the temptation. He couldn’t risk that.
With a shaky breath, he slowly rose from the bed, muscles stiff and sore. His hooves felt heavy against the floor as he stood, unsure of what to do next. His heart pounded in his chest, every part of him screaming for escape.
He couldn’t stay in this room, surrounded by the memories of what had happened. He couldn’t stay in this place where everything had changed, where his mind had been turned upside down.
Jasper moved toward his clothes, trembling as he dressed. He kept his head down, avoiding the hay bale—the place where everything had happened. The weight of his actions was too much to bear.
He gathered what few belongings he had, not daring to look at the bed, at the place where he had been with Frederick. The stallion—Frederick—was nowhere to be seen now, but that didn’t matter. The memory was enough.
With one final glance at the room, Jasper stepped toward the door, his sobs replaced by a cold emptiness. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t risk losing himself again. The world outside felt distant, but it was a place where he might find peace—away from the temptation, away from the shame, away from everything that had happened.
And so, he stepped out into the early morning light, not knowing where he was going, but knowing that he couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t let himself fall deeper into whatever this was. He just needed to escape.
As he placed his suitcase in the back of his truck, a tear trickled down his cheek. He couldn't leave like this—skulking away like a thief in the night. He had to face Rowan. He had to tell him he couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t say why, just that he couldn’t.
He turned, bleating in fear as he did, and saw Rowan standing behind him. So lost in his mind, he hadn’t heard the human approach.
"Jasper?" Rowan asked, a bit perplexed. "What's going on?"
Jasper froze, his heart racing as his ears swivelled back in panic. His suitcase was still half in his truck, he hadn’t noticed Rowan’s approach. The world around him seemed to tilt, leaving him unable to focus on anything but the whirlwind in his mind.
"Jasper?" Rowan repeated, his tone low, thoughtful, though there was a hint of concern. "What’s going on?"
Jasper blinked rapidly, struggling to clear the blur of tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard. This was it. He had to tell him, but how could he? How could he explain the confusion, the guilt, the overwhelming desire that made him feel like a stranger to himself?
"I... I..." Jasper trailed off, unsure how to even begin. His legs felt weak, threatening to give out. His eyes darted nervously between Rowan’s concerned face and the truck.
Rowan took a step closer, sensing the tension in Jasper. "Hey, it’s okay," he said gently. "You can tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I’m here for you."
Jasper took a shaky breath, a heaviness settling deep in his chest. He opened his mouth, but his voice barely registered—a faint whisper, shaking with the weight of his confession. "I—I can’t stay," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I just... I can’t." He turned his head, unwilling to meet Rowan’s eyes, afraid that if he did, all his turmoil would spill over uncontrollably.
Rowan blinked, then placed a comforting hand on Jasper’s shoulder. "Is... it about what happened?" His words landed like a hoof to Jasper’s heart.
"I..." Jasper stammered, terror rising in his chest. His throat tightened, pulse racing. He couldn’t breathe, not with the weight of Rowan’s words hanging over him, and the truth he’d been avoiding rushing forward like a storm.
Rowan smiled softly, then pulled Jasper into a tight, unexpected hug. "You’re no mare," he whispered, his voice low and reassuring, "but I enjoyed what we shared. Frederick... he and I are the same, Jasper. From the moment I saw you with the mares, I suspected what you are." His breath brushed Jasper’s ear as he continued, his words soothing and terrifying all at once. "And after what we shared... it just confirmed it."
Jasper’s heart skipped a beat, his entire body freezing. His eyes widened, and his ears flattened against his head. He staggered back, trembling.
"No..." Jasper gasped, his breath ragged. "No... no, you can’t... I... I thought it was... just Frederick... I thought—"
Rowan sighed softly, understanding yet unyielding. He stepped closer, gently pulling Jasper back, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Jasper," Rowan said softly, "it’s me. It always has been. I know what you’re feeling. What you think you’ve done... but I’m here now. I understand you, and I’m not going anywhere."
Jasper’s mind reeled as the weight of the revelation hit him. "But—" His words were swallowed by the truth of Rowan’s statement, his confusion, and the overwhelming sense of being utterly exposed. He felt cornered, stripped of all his defences.
Rowan’s voice softened further, his hand resting on Jasper’s arm. "I have a gift, Jasper. I’ve shared myself with you... and you showed me who you are. It doesn’t matter what you think or feel right now; I know your heart. You don’t have to be afraid. You can stay here... with me. I want you to. You don’t have to run away. Your secret is safe, I promise. Please, stay."
Jasper’s breath hitched, and for a moment, everything felt suffocating. He could still feel the heat of Rowan’s embrace, the softness of his touch, the weight of his confession. Everything inside him screamed to run, to escape from the truth he could no longer avoid. But another part of him—a quieter, more vulnerable part—ached with the possibility of relief, of freedom from his shame.
Tears welled in his eyes again, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t sort through. He turned his face away, unwilling to let Rowan see him break.
Rowan, sensing his pain, softened his grip. "Jasper, I’m not going to force you. But I want you to know... if you need me, I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready. Just... don’t run away from this. You don’t have to. I understand you, more than you know."
Rowan gently stroked Jasper’s wet muzzle, his touch tender and calming. He lifted it, meeting the wide, frightened eyes of the buck.
"I enjoyed it, you enjoyed it," Rowan murmured softly, his voice low but warm. "It was... wonderful. You don’t need to hide, Jasper, or deny that which you are. I want to help you... explore your desires, your dreams, your life. Here, with me. You can stop pretending, denying yourself. Let yourself just... be who you are."
The weight of Rowan's words hung in the air, a promise that tangled with Jasper’s swirling emotions. Part of him wanted to fight it, to push it away, to hold onto the fear and guilt that had gripped him. But another part—a quieter, more vulnerable part—ached with the possibility of relief.
Rowan’s gentle hand remained on his cheek, guiding him through the storm inside.
"Now, come on," Rowan said, his voice lightening. "You must be hungry, and I know I am!"
Without thinking, Jasper reached out, taking Rowan’s hand. The warmth of the human’s touch anchored him, pulling him away from the chaos in his mind.
Rowan smiled, fingers curling gently around the buck’s hand, and guided him back toward the house. The front door creaked as it closed behind them, the sound echoing softly in the quiet between them.
Jasper’s heart was still racing, but with Rowan by his side, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. Whatever came next, maybe—just maybe—it was worth seeing through.
END