SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

Every day that he saw Fox working his ranch, repairing fences, or feeding the small animals from his palm, it would do fluttery things to his chest. He approached carefully from behind as not to spook Diablo, who was eating raisins out of Fox’s hand before he cantered off.

“Hey,” Bull whispered, pressing his chest against Fox’s back.

Fox smiled all warm and content before he turned around and leaned against the fence, staring up at Bull with those mischievous eyes. “Hay’s for horses.”

Bull pfft’d. “Did you just come up with that one? I’ve never heard it before.”

Fox’s smile slid away, and Bull recognized the want that appeared as he tilted his head up and licked his lips. Bull set the thermos of hot cider on the fence post before he caged Fox in so he couldn’t escape, and kissed him like he’d wanted to all day. His lips were cool as Fox shuddered against him, and Bull didn’t know if it was from the temperature outside or their powerful connection anytime they blocked out the world.

“You all finished for the day?” Fox asked after taking a deep breath.

Bull nodded, stroking Fox’s arms through his heavy coat. He did a quick glance around that no one was looking as he eased his gloved hand lower until he was kneading one soft cheek. “It’s time to get ready for supper. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry… very hungry.” Bull moaned into Fox’s throat, going in for another thorough kiss, when Diablo poked his large head in between them and nudged Bull away.

Fox laughed loudly and hooked his arm under Diablo’s chin, leaning his head against him. “Good boy. He was getting pretty handsy, wasn’t he?”

“Now even the animals are blocking me from getting some.” Bull stood there staring at Fox with his arms wrapped around the Arabian. And heavens was it a beautiful sight. “Bed him down. It’s time to wrap up.”

“Wait,” Fox said when he turned to walk away.

“Hmmm?”

“I want to ride him, now,” Fox said confidently, stroking Diablo’s jaw. “He’s ready, and so am I.”

Bull was immediately poised to put up an argument, not wanting Fox to get hurt if Diablo bucked him off, but he could see they were ready too. Fox had worked for weeks with other trainers, learning and understanding abused horses, so he could help Diablo readjust. And he had.

A niggling of jealousy hit him, as he wished it’d been him that’d broken Diablo in again after the cruelty he’d suffered. But it wasn’t meant to be. “Are you sure?” He met Fox’s determined gaze.

“We’re sure.” Fox smirked, then headed towards the barn.

Fox brushed Diablo’s back with a body brush to make sure he didn’t have any debris on him that would irritate him under his tack. He wasn’t a good hummer like Bull, but Diablo seemed to prefer when Fox droned on about nothing—typically, childhood stories that felt surprisingly good to get off his chest.

“All right. It’s me and you, buddy. Time for that ride I promised you,” Fox murmured as he next brushed off the saddle pad. He was ultra-aware of Bull standing off to the side watching him but not attempting to step in and take over, and he was appreciative that Bull allowed this time to be his. Fox had enjoyed learning to ride on Dolly and building his confidence, but she wasn’t the horse he wanted to ride.

Once he had the pad just above the wither he double-checked that it was facing the right direction. Diablo didn’t pull against his lead; instead, he allowed Fox to manipulate him where he needed. “Good boy. Now for the tack,” Fox whispered.

Bull took the heavy saddle off the rack and brought it to him. “I had this made for him based off the size of his old one.”

Fox met Bull’s eyes, and those dark-amber pools almost shifted his mind to something else, until he spoke in that raw voice. “Set it down gently on his back. When you’re tightening the latigo through the cinch… do it with confidence. If you’re nervous, he’ll—”

“I know. And I’m not nervous at all. Neither is he,” Fox said, then got back to work. “Go around and open the gate, please. I got this.”

Once Bull was gone and it was just the two of them standing at the entrance to the barn, Fox released a slow exhale, then hefted the almost thirty-pound saddle and placed it down carefully on Diablo’s back, smiling when he didn’t even shift.

“Attaboy.” Fox was confident as he made quick work of the thick leather strap that ran beneath the horse’s belly and worked it through the cinch and rigging. “Nice and calm, boy, nice and calm, okay. Here we go,” Fox whispered, then tugged the cinch nice and tight.

He caught hold of Diablo’s muzzle when he snapped his head to the side, tugging on the lead Fox had knotted around the top post. “Easy, easy. It’s just me. Knock that shit off,” Fox crooned, keeping their contact and connection close.