The one thing he hadn't expected to feel in all this nonsense was jealousy. It all started a few days later, when he went out to check on the sheep. It was early. Not Richard early, but still early for Hank. Nines had woken him up with that god awful squawking, and he'd dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn to shovel down some cereal and head out on his rounds. He'd thought perhaps he might return in time to cross paths with Richard as he returned to feed the chickens. What he hadn't expected was to meet another man. In his own field, no less!
He wasn't too tall, but he was taller than Richard, and packing some obvious muscle beneath his loose shirt. If Hank had to guess, he'd say this was the guy who did the heavy lifting around the stables, and he was definitely from the stables. There wasn't another farm around for a good few miles with all the fields backing onto each other, and Hank didn't recognise him. He was pretty handsome though. Brunette hair, a strong brow, sharp grey eyes, and a mischievous smile, the type that was contagious. As he drew closer, he could hear that he had a good full laugh, too. The reason for that laughter became apparent as he noticed the ball of white fur rolling around in his lap.
"What the-Sixty!" It was too late to stop him. The great hound had already jumped, paws planted on the man's chest to push him back onto the grass. The man went with a flail of legs, strong arms ruffling and scratching the whole time as Sixty wagged his tail and snuffled his shirt. His shirt, now muddied with grubby paw prints and stray bits of grass, was open to the third button, showing off his chiselled pecs and hinting at more muscle below. He was quite the specimen, which put Hank on edge right away. Despite his wariness, he did the decent thing and called Sixty away. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" That would usually be his first concern with the guard dog.
"Oh no, he's fine! We're good friends, aren't we, boy?" Far from being cowed by Hank's firm tone, Sixty was in his element, panting happily as his tail wagged back and forth. Connor, ever the loyal companion, remained at Hank's side, tail low and cautious. It was rare to find strangers on their property, and it was usually Sixty who saw them off. It was his job to see them off! Seeing Sixty so excitable was making him curious, ears twitching as he tilted his head. Hank set a reassuring hand on Connor's head. He doubted the man was dangerous, least of all to the sheep. The man seemed to remember himself, taking on a sheepish air as he finally peeled himself away from Sixty and got to his feet. "Sorry, I know I shouldn't be in here, but..." Grey eyes strayed to Sixty as he trailed off and watched the large dog panting happily, still looking up at him with those big brown eyes.
"It's fine...The name's Hank." He tried to reel in his own curiosity. It wouldn't do to ask too many questions in one go. The first question he didn't even have to ask. Seeing his hand extended, the man gave him a winning smile and accepted with a firm grip.
"David, but everyone calls me Allen or Al." That was a bit of a leap. "When I was a marine, there were already two Davids in my regiment, so going by my surname made things easier." Maybe his service explained why he was so good with Sixty. Sixty was a smart dog, more than wise enough to know when he'd been bested. Allen was strong and toned, and the sharpness of his eyes let you know he was in charge. Faced with such raw dominance, Sixty didn't even try to challenge him. He was like a puppy in Allen's skilled hands, greedily snuffling in for all the pets he could get.
"Marines to horses, that's quite a leap." Allen leaned on the fence, happily accepting Sixty's enormous paws on his chest as he leapt up for more attention. Large hands laced in his fur, short nails scratching around his neck and jowls.
"Oh, my family has always been involved with horses. Going back to it was sort of expected." His family was in the business. Did that mean Richard? Were they related somehow? Looking at his face, he couldn't see any obvious resemblance. Allen's brow was stronger, his facial structure wider, and his jaw more squared. His eyes were a sharp silver, where Richard's were dark brown, and he was much stockier. The colour of their hair was similar, but that was about it.
"So, is this a family business?" Hank's chest dropped somewhat as Allen laughed.
"No, this is a joint venture. When he retired, Richard decided he wanted to open up his own stables and try his hand at breeding. My parents can handle things well enough for now, so I figured...why not?" Why not what? Open a stable with his boyfriend? Support his partner? Branch out on his own? Help his friend? Hank wanted those answers, but asking outright was way too forward. "I love your dog. What breed is he?" Lamenting the change in subject, Hank huffed as he watched Sixty panting and licking at Allen's hands and face.
"He's a Great Pyrenees, natural guard dogs...Usually." You wouldn't think it to look at him now. The great, dozy beast was almost hugging Allen, tongue lolling out as he panted and pawed at his shoulders. Allen chuckled, turning his cheek to avoid the long, pink tongue. Connor perked up a little at that, tail twitching cautiously as he padded up to get a whiff of Allen's jeans. Seeing Connor, Sixty hopped down with a woof, tail wagging as they touched noses and hunkered down to play. The sheep had moved a little way off, keeping a healthy distance from Connor. "He's usually a lot more vicious."
"I don't doubt it." Great Pyrenees were well known as guard dogs, and extremely protective of their livestock and families. Allen wouldn't have dreamed of hopping the fence if Sixty had shown any sign of aggression. He'd actually been worried at first, since he was supposed to be working on the fence, replacing a few of the older planks. It wouldn't be a good idea to strip the old wood off with an aggressive dog on the other side, so he'd introduced himself. After slowly crouching and cooing, Sixty had padded close to assess the threat. Allen wasn't sure why, but within a few minutes, the dog was putty in his hands. "I hope I didn't throw off his game. I actually came out here to fix a few of these old planks."
Now that he mentioned it, the fence did look a little battered. That probably wasn't surprising. It had been there for years, perhaps even a decade by now. It was never really an issue before. The previous owner had kept cows, and they'd shown little interest in leaving their field. The horses weren't too interested either, but now that some of the planks were weathering, it was a good idea to get them replaced before it became an issue. There was no telling how Sixty would react if a horse ended up in his territory. He might consider it a free meal, and that could end up with all sorts of problems. Hank might have to pay the cost of the horse and loss of potential earnings, and Sixty could end up needing veterinary care if the horse got the upper hand. It was best all round if they avoided such issues and kept the fence maintained.
"No harm done. It's probably safer for you that he's friendly." It would be a nightmare replacing the panels otherwise. He probably would have had to head over to the house and ask him to take Sixty in for a while or come out and supervise. "Let me give you a hand. These jobs are always faster with two." That would also give him an opportunity to do a little more probing. Allen was predictably grateful for the offer, sharing his tools and having Hank hold the wood in place while he hammered the nails. Sixty and Connor were content to watch, alternating between playing and lying in the grass.
Hank took advantage of the leisurely activity to pry out more information, starting with how he met Richard. It was no surprise they'd met through horses. The group Richard raced for had kept their horses stabled with Allen's family, and he'd been one of their regular grooms. They'd become close friends over the years, so when Richard retired and suggested they go into business, Allen had agreed. They met around thirteen years ago, when he first retired from the marines. At that point, Richard had already been an established jockey and made quite a name for himself. He didn't win every race, but he usually ranked in the top five.
This venture was mostly Richard's responsibility. The farmhouse was his home, and he owned seventy percent of the business. Allen was split between Richard's stables and his parents' business, driving back and forth almost daily to accommodate both. They were still pretty small, and Richard could handle most of the training and day-to-day work. Buying and selling was where Allen was most useful, and doing some of the heavier work around the stables. Over the next few months, as they expanded, they'd look to hire a few extra stable hands, giving Allen more freedom to come and go without worrying about the physical labour. It wasn't that he thought Richard was lazy, far from it. He just didn't want to risk him injuring himself. As a retired jockey, his joints were a point of concern, especially his knees.
Since Allen was so friendly with Sixty, it made sense to ask about Richard's obvious fear of dogs. Unfortunately, Allen couldn't say where he'd picked that up, only that he'd had it for as long as he'd known him. Even at the stables, he'd been terrified of the yard dogs. They'd had to shut them in whenever he came. That was one reason that Allen was the one out in the field fixing the fence. Richard had noticed the issue, but he also knew about that infernal mutt. Being used to dealing with big dogs, Allen had agreed to head out and see to the fence while Richard groomed and trained the horses as usual. They didn't have any test runs scheduled that day, so he was probably training the jumpers. He wasn't as experienced at show jumping, but he was good enough for training.
By the time they finished replacing the planks, Hank had managed to get himself invited over to tour the stables. Allen was a nice guy, much more sociable than Richard. Where Richard was often curt, Allen was easy going. It was no wonder he'd come on board to deal with negotiations. He was really quite charming. When they were done, they loaded the old planks into the barrow with the tools and headed back to the stables, leaving Connor and Sixty frolicking in the field. Connor knew the way home, so there was no need to supervise him.
The stables were tucked away behind the farmhouse, close to a large barn where Richard stored his hay, feed, and tools. Where the barn was quite old, the stables were brand new, many of the stalls already housing a healthy mare. There was even a stallion they'd rented for breeding purposes. A retired race horse with a fifteen percent win rate, which was pretty good. They'd already mated three of their mares and were eagerly waiting to see what happened. Another mare was already heavily pregnant, and likely to give birth within the next couple of months. The other five horses were still too young to begin their careers, but they had started training. One of the five was already out, likely in the jumping range with Richard. Two of the stalls were rented out on a full board basis, the owners trusting Richard to feed and water, groom, and exercise their beloved pets.
Hank wasn't too knowledgeable when it came to horses, but they all looked like fine beasts. The stallion was a little rowdy and only liked to be handled by Allen or Richard, but the mares were friendly enough as they nosed his hand for pets and treats. Allen told him a little about them as they went down the line, sneaking them sugar cubes and swearing Hank to secrecy. The real treat came after they left the stables and looped around to the jumping range. He'd seen Richard ride at a distance, but seeing it up close was something else.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he calculated the height and timed the perfect jump. The horse he was riding, a speckled grey mare with a glossy black mane and tail, seemed to have some experience already. She was ready to jump each time he tapped her sides and stood in the stirrups, remaining perfectly poised as she leapt the bars. His ass bounced in the saddle with that steady one-two beat he knew so well, back and shoulders poised as he steered the mare to the next fence. Hank and Allen approached quietly, remaining unobtrusive as they leaned on the railing to watch. Allen had said earlier this wasn't Richard's area of expertise, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. He seemed quite at home as he spurred on his steed and jumped the bars.
Hank felt himself stir as memories of the night before returned. Watching his ass bounce in the saddle, he couldn't help but recall how it had felt bouncing on his pelvis. The arch of his spine, smooth skin against his fingertips, strong thighs gripping his hips. The reins were gripped in his hands, fingers loosely pinching the leather. He was panting for breath, grumbling gentle encouragements as the mare cantered to the next jump. She barely cleared it, bringing a triumphant little smile to Richard's lips. His dark eyes were full of life as he pulled her in a turn and noticed them at the railing.
"How's the fence?" he called as he trotted over, gently patting the mare's sweaty neck in rewards as they stopped. The mare wasn't the only one sweating. Richard's brow was glistening along the brim of his hat, small droplets sliding down his neck in the heat. Wearing the quilted jacket had been a mistake, but earlier in the morning, when they first got out, it had been a little breezy. Hank's presence didn't slip his notice either as he offered a polite nod.
"All done, thanks to Hank." Hank waved it off as Allen clapped his shoulder, insisting it was no trouble and he was just passing by. Hopping down, Richard led the mare along to the gate, giving a polite nod as Hank held it open. Considering he was barely as tall as the mare's back, it was impressive that he could get up there by himself. The mare was docile, contentedly following as Richard led her along to the stables. "How are you feeling? Any knee or back pain?" Allen asked warily as they walked along, huffing softly as Richard elbowed him. It wasn't a surprising question. His joints usually flared up more with jumping than racing.
"You worry too much." It was a somewhat withering response that didn't actually answer the question. The prying look Allen gave him said as much, too. "I feel fine!" Allen seemed less than convinced, which set Hank on edge. It was like he knew something he didn't, which was more than likely considering their long-term partnership. "You're acting like I always get a backache after riding."
"No, but I know jumping take a greater toll." Richard wasn't wholly convinced of that. It was true his knees and back were more likely to ache after jumping, but that could well be down to his own lack of skill than it being worse for his body. Put him on a track and he'd fly, but jumping was a little harder. It wasn't unheard of for him to take a fall during jumps, not that he'd tell anyone or make a big deal out of it.
"Well, I feel fine." Allen seemed a little more reassured by that. He could tell when he was feeling it. There'd be a telling limp in his step or a slight hobble as he bent over to save his back. Today, he was walking upright with no sign of discomfort. He even smiled as the spotted mare nipped his sleeve and nosed his shoulder for attention as they walked.
"Glad to hear it. I'll be heading back for the day. Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow?" Hank watched almost suspiciously, quietly trying to work out if that offer meant anything. Richard certainly seemed to soften as he looked at him, fingers gently tracing the leather reins. They stopped in the open yard outside the stables, where Allen's black jeep was parked near the barn. It was a good choice, able to handle the dirt roads around the farm.
"I could use another pint of milk, and maybe some lemons." He was shopping for him? Did that mean they were a thing? Friends could pick up groceries, especially when it was just a few essentials. Allen pursed his lips, grey eyes sharpening as he looked Richard up and down. As usual, he looked like a stick. Richard paid him no mind, too busy stroking the mare's brow and nose with gentle clicking sounds.
"Anything else? Bread? Doughnuts? Apples? Bananas?" Allen was certainly a mother hen when it came to Richard's diet, and from the withering look he got in return, it seemed this was a regular discussion. Hank couldn't blame him for worrying. Richard was a little on the thin side. It was almost as if the mare understood something of their conversation as she snorted and tugged on the reins, nudging Richard's shoulder with her nose.
"I suppose some apples wouldn't hurt." If he didn't eat them in time, he could give them to the horses, and it appeased Allen if he accepted. With a murmur of agreement, Allen clapped a hand on Richard's arm and shook Hank's hand again.
"It was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow, Richie!" Richie? Hank's eyes thinned at that. Cutesy nicknames? That didn't bode well. Richard waved him off before turning his attention to Hank as if he'd forgotten he was there, and Hank found himself somewhat on the back foot as well. Allen had invited him to look around, but did Richard mind? He seemed to be at a similar loss for words. Hank watched as he licked his lips, dark eyes straying to the impatient mare as she bumped his chest again.
"If you don't get her fed, she'll try to eat you," Hank teased as he stroked her flank. It was almost like the mare understood as she nipped the quilted fabric of Richard's jacket in agreement. Richard was a lot softer when dealing with horses and didn't even seem to notice he was smiling as he stroked her neck.
"You're probably not wro-ah! Uhm..." Richard fell silent as the mare butted his chest and sent him stumbling backwards. He stopped as Hank's arm slid across his shoulders to steady him. Hank was a lot bigger than he seemed. He knew he was big, but actually being flush against his burly body and feeling the strength of the arm across his shoulders really brought it home. Hank licked his lips nervously as he eased him upright, letting his large hand linger on his delicate shoulder blades. Richard didn't pull away or shrug him off. Maybe that was a sign. "Guess she's more impatient than I thought...See you at the chickens later?" Was that a hint of hope in his tone?
"Sure, I'll probably be around." He'd definitely be around.