Shelter from the Storm

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Stallion Sensuality

Jackson, more often than not known as Jack, could have watched Simon all day long. The stallion worked on the farm behind his house, which was a strange enough set up as it was, but he had studied out in the little university town in Wales and, well, he'd just stuck there. The houses up the hill from the small town backed onto fields and farmland, which was just how he had been able to watch Simon go about his work.

Simon... Simon was a pleasure to watch, though Jack should not have watched him as much as he did. It was just hard to ignore the rich, chestnut stallion when he was working, for he was so often visible from the kitchen window, all while Jack was doing the washing up. Or even when he was just hanging out in the garden, making the most of the space that he had, the farm worker, though it turned out later that he had a stake in the family business of farming, stripping off his shirt to work at shearing the sheep.

Yes... With the sunshine glowing off his red brown coat, mane plastered to his neck with sweat as dark, sexy patches showed through his coat, the stallion was a joy to behold, someone that Jack could have drunk in, time after time again. Rippling with muscle, there barely seemed to be an ounce of spare fat on the stallion, though it was clear that he built all that muscle from his work on the farm, all functional and needed. Not that Jack would have minded one little bit if it had all been from some form of vanity too. Who cared when someone looked that good, as long as they were happy and healthy?

Unlike Jack, who was a lightly built grey stallion on the studious side with a job in the archive library of the local university, Simon was built solidly. A stiff wind would struggle to push him over and Jack had seen him many times over working out in all kinds of weather, even heavy rain and tumultuous winds as the storms rolled in. Once, in passing, he had asked Simon why he did it, but the stallion had been as pragmatic as ever.

"I've got to get the animals looked after," he had said, as if there was nothing more to it than that. "They're not going to look after themselves, not when they don't have shelter. Besides, the sheep will be heavy with wool now, they'll be more comfortable if they don't get soaked through before we shear them."

It made sense and Jack admired Simon for his care and the patience that he had with all the animals that he looked after. Of course, being Wales, there were lots of sheep around, though there were other animals too, like the small herd of cows that were apparently some kind of rarer breed, which he also milked. There were some goats too, a good number of turkeys and chickens, something that he called guinea fowl also. Jack was not much of an outdoorsy, "farmsy" stallion, yet Simon made him want to be that guy too, even if he was sure too that he wouldn't have lasted all that long in that work.

No, he was much better sticking to his work in the library, amongst the books, even if his proximity to the bigger, more muscular stallion had him heading more often than before to the university gym (a perk of his job) just to make sure that he was looking after himself. Simon worked in the warmer weather without a shirt on, though he by far surpassed Jack when it came to physical prowess. And that was okay too, for they didn't need to be the same.

As the year moved into the summer months and they exchanged a few words, a few chats, even sharing a couple of drinks in Jack's garden - the little rental cottage that, thankfully, he had all to himself. Getting to know each other was slow because Jack didn't know whether he could just stroll over there and talk to Simon, even if that probably would have been okay. Maybe? He didn't know. Did guys do that still? And did Simon even know he was gay? He sometimes had a pride pin on and he thought he was kind of discreet about it... Not for any reason though, it was just the way he was, he didn't like to draw too much attention to himself, regardless of what he was wearing or where he was going. So bright colours and anything flashy or pointed that would have thrown more than a hint wasn't often on the table for him.

That was okay though. It was just... He was happy that way. If he changed in the future, he would change. Jack would be just the way he wanted to be and go forward, even if a couple of his friends had said that he should be more "out" than he was. What did that even mean?

Yet things with Simon, well... They were set to change, bit by bit, day by day. The small chats turned to Jack picking up a couple of things in the larger neighbouring town when he went down to get a new game, helping out from time to time, just with a few bits of paperback and stuff. Apparently, Simon wasn't all that good at that kind of thing, though Jack was more than happy to help out when he had free time and waived any form of payment.

"It's like you're trying to keep me around," Jack had joked once, in the evening, when he had been settling up some accounts for Simon - not much, not that hard work. "There's always something... But it's always like that on the farm, isn't it?"

They'd laughed and talked that night and Jack had stumbled home pleasantly warm and tipsy, wondering if how the stallion's hand had rested on his knee had meant anything. Or if Simon had meant to let his hand linger like that...

Yet he didn't have to wonder for long, not when a storm rolled in a few days later. Jack frowned and eyed up the windows dubiously, for the one in the living room, looking out onto the back garden and over the wall to where Simon's farm was, didn't seal properly around the edge. It seemed to be okay for the moment, though there was always a chill in the living room due to it. That was why he didn't tend to use that part of the house in the winter months, though he had some papers set out on the coffee table at that time.

The knock on the door startled him, jumping and then pausing, heart hammering. Had it just been the storm? Yet the equine poked his head around into the hallway where he could see through the glass of the front door to the blurry, dark shape of someone on the other side. A muzzle pressed up to the glass and Jack gasped, rushing to the door. He knew that red brown face.

"Hey!" He puffed, wrenching open the door to reveal a dripping wet stallion, his mane plastered to his face and neck, tail hanging in rattails, all twisted up. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Simon grunted and rubbed the back of his neck in an uncharacteristically sheepish fashion. For a moment, Jack feared that something was truly wrong.

"Hey," Simon said, offering Jack a friendly, lopsided smile. "Funny thing... I don't suppose you had a spare towel or something, do you? Got locked out of the house somehow when I was checking the sheep. Seems silly to smash a window when my brother should be home soon, you know? If you don't mind, that is."

Jack gulped, his ears splaying out, flopping to the sides of his head.

"Um, yeah, of course... Yes! Come in!"

Simon had never been inside his house - or rather, his small, one-storey cottage - before. That was new, even though it should not have been all that unusual, considering that he had been heading over to Simon's farm rather often of late to help him out, the strange, crackling connection between them growing and growing. Yet it was not natural to step back and let Simon inside, rushing off to get him the biggest towel that Jack owned, feeling as if he was fumbling and stumbling all over himself like a newborn foal. Just what was wrong with him?

Ah, but Jack knew, even as he held out the towel for Simon and watched, too intently, as Simon wrung out his mane and tail the best that he could, though his clothes were soaked through. Jack's heart hammered. Even though he had seen the stallion topless many times before, there was something about the way in which his shirt clung to his body, defining his pectoral muscles in particular, that just gave him the mental image of ripping it from Simon's body with relentless insistence in his mind.

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No, you can't do that...

No, he could not. That would be rude, at the very least, and he just tried to think of what he could do to help Simon, rather than just stripping the poor horse down. He didn't even think that Simon liked him "in that way" anyway and he didn't want to make things genuinely awkward between them when he had turned into such a good friend. But he couldn't have poor Simon just standing there, even though he was towelling off the best that he could, dripping all over his carpet. That couldn't have been comfortable and, against himself, Jack shuddered, imagining just how uncomfortable Simon just have been with wet clothes clinging to his body. Yeah, that wasn't a sensation that Jack would have liked for himself either.

"Er, do you want..." He cast about for something that he could help with. "A shower? Something? Heh, I don't think my clothes would fit but...maybe there's some shorts or something I can lend you?"

Simon's gaze lingered on him, warm like liquid honey, for a long time. Though that could have been Simon's overactive imagination stretching the seconds out into more than what they were.

"Yeah," he said softly, in a voice that Jack had never heard before from him. "Yeah, that would be great... Thank you."

"Oh!"

Jack smiled, a wash of undue foolishness enveloping him, rubbing his neck, turning about. What was wrong with him?

"Great, then!" He said, his voice too high-pitched but there didn't seem to be anything that he could do about it. "Um... Yeah, I'll get just the shower...running for you and, yeah, you can get in and everything..."

And then there was a hand on his arm, fingers sliding over his forearm gently, though they did not hold or stop him, not even as Jack's words died on his lips. Turning slowly, he locked his eyes with Simon's once more, the drumming of his frantic heartbeat nickering in his ears as if it had been trying to tell him something all along.

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He's so close to me...

And would only be closer still. Jack stepped in, their chests nearly brushing, muzzles closer to one another than they had ever been before. Jack's tail swished, trying and failing to clamp down, his ears pricked forward, every last bit of his attention absolutely fixed on Simon. How could it not be?

"Jack..."

He breathed, though no words were needed, not as Jack froze, his lips slightly parted, the muzzle of the other equine coming in closer and closer to his. He was not paralyzed, not by any means, not as his heart sang, just afraid to break the moment, to lose what connection there was, to spoil what he couldn't believe was finally happening.

And, as awkward as he had felt when he had been trying to usher Simon into the cottage and get him dried off, everything came naturally, the stallion's hand rising to his face and curling tenderly around his cheek as their lips, finally, connected. The hand lingering on his knee, the other night, made sense, just one small part of a larger picture, and Jack whimpered faintly, light-headed, leaning into the kiss. Simon's lips moved against his as if they were meant to be there, so soft and so warm, and Jack leaned hungrily into it, without even realising what he was doing.

Simon grunted into the kiss and gripped his other arm at the biceps, though Jack had barely even realised that he had brought his arms up, getting them around the stallion, clutching at his clothes, his chest, just wanting him close. It was what he had wanted for so long and yet not known how to make a move or even if Simon swung that way, happy enough to at least have Simon's company even if there could be nothing more between them.

But it was more than that, so much more, all as Jack's shaking hands with the hoof-like, rougher fingertips fumbled at Simon's shirt. Some small part of his mind was still caught up in helping Simon get out of his clothes, yet neither horse was thinking about showering anymore. Not as the kiss deepened and Jack allowed the questing flick of Simon's tongue into his mouth, something inside him jolting as that fleshy, soft appendage swept up against his own. Investigating and experimenting with one another, as to what felt good, for the first time, Jack just about got a handful of buttons undone on Simon's shirt as he was backed up towards his bedroom. Thankfully for both of them, he had left the door to his bedroom ajar earlier that day, so Simon could, at the very least, see where they needed to go.

The next thing Jack knew was that he was tumbling back onto his bed in a flurry of lips and laughing lips against his, giddy with delight.

"Fuck, I didn't think..." Simon grunted, breaking the kiss only to bury his face in the crook of Jack's neck, inhaling his scent deeply. "You... Mmm... So glad you didn't turn me down... Fuck..."

Jack giggled, a little more confident, helping Simon out of his shirt and letting out a needy little moan as more of that dark, with rainwater, chestnut coat was revealed to him.

"I didn't think you swore that much," Jack teased, pushing Simon up just so that he could nip and nuzzle playfully at his neck, his blunter incisors catching and tugging at sensitive skin. "Maybe there's a lot I don't know about you."

The burning intensity in Simon's eyes, for a moment, made Jack wonder if he had said the wrong thing.

"I'll make you say my name like it's a swear, pony. I want to hear that from you, losing control and feeling amazing."

Jack whined, heart pounding, though that sounded like a good idea to him - a very good idea indeed. He was more than amenable to Simon stripping him down, both stallions fumbling and managing to work their way through, however haphazardly, getting each other's clothes off, down to their underwear. Yet it was Simon who drew down Jack's boxers, right there on his bed, to free the spring of his equine shaft to the light. It was mostly pink with a few blotches of grey around the base, which were more often than not hidden by his sheath, the soft fold of flesh that his cock would retreat into when he was soft.

His cock, in that moment, was anything but soft, however, Simon groaning as he closed his hand around it and watched Jack's face as his lips twitched and his ears splayed.

"Ooohhhh..."

Jack was almost embarrassed about the sound that came out of his mouth and yet it had every right to be there, very much so, as Simon kissed and nipped down Jack's body. Laying Jack back on the bed, he murmured something to him, something about wanting to make him feel good, and Jack whinnied something back. Words were hard.

End preview.

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