[ he strokes his fingers helplessly through matt's hair, guilty and aching. truth be told, there are perks to being a gladiator. shiro never has to worry about not being fed, or being chased by a pack of predators, or being beaten for fighting back. the galra enjoy his temper and his disobedience as exemplary qualities for a gladiator. ]
It's-- [ okay, but it's not okay, nothing about any of this is okay, so he cups matt's face in both hands and looks at him helplessly. ]
It doesn't matter. Not compared to what they've done to you.
[His ears twitch absently every time Shiro's fingers brush against them, flicking back and forth like tiny velvety wings. His horns are somewhere under that mess of hair too, little bitty nubs that aren't anything impressive like the other bulls. He probably doesn't even count as a bull. Too tiny, too soft, too helpless.
But then Shiro's looking down at him with grief and concern and guilt, and Matt's forehead furrows in confusion.] Me? I'm fine. I'm okay.
[He stretches up, bumps his nose to Shiro's in a quick, instinctive gesture of comfort.] I found you. I'm wonderful.
[ he can't help the way his voice goes soft. maybe matt's right. maybe more important than all the shit happening around them and to them is the fact that they're here together, for the first time. ]
...yeah. I'm glad you found me, too.
Come on. Let's head over to the other stalls. Filling out the reservation schedule should buy us some privacy and some time, and maybe your pack of friends will forget about you.
-- oh. [Right, they're going to -- the breeding stall. That's right. So Shiro can clean up. That's the reason. The only reason. Matt is repeating this to himself again and again, clearing his throat and turning red again, grabbing at the lead with fumbling hands and trying to look confident as he steps into the hall.
It's mercifully quiet and almost deserted, only a couple stable hands hurrying one way or the other. Some of them linger, either at the sight of Shiro or at Matt's scent (it's still heavy, alluring, willing, and he seems thoroughly unaware), but the sight of the stud chain seems to explain everything, and they continue on. Still, by the time they reach the roomy, comfortable breeding stall, Matt's trembling with anxiety, hands shaking as they open the door, grab at the schedule and try to keep his handwriting steady.]
I-I, um. Is. An hour? Two? I haven't ever. Actually been in. One of these.
[ that waft of scent is driving him crazy. as much as he doesn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to them he can't help arching his tail and prancing a bit as they walk, equine instincts excited. maybe it's a pavlovian response at this point, honestly, heading into this section of the barn with the stud chain on and the smell of a breeder's slick heavy in his nostrils. it's humiliating, but his cock is already halfway unsheathed just while they're walking, dangling beneath him.
maybe it sells the deceit, though, because nobody stops them. shiro stamps and snorts at a couple lingering gazes, but nobody demands to know their destination, or follows them, or seems to care that shiro's restraints look a little haphazard.
a little surge of guilt moves through him when matt admits he's never been to the breeding stalls before. shiro has been here a lot, for a gladiator. ]
...put twelve hours. We can reserve it for the whole night. Y-you don't have to stay, of course, they'll just think I was brought in for a fuck and then my handler was too lazy to move me back to my own stall.
[Matt would be lying if he said he didn't notice Shiro's recovered arousal -- there's a part of him that's only ever focused on that, on the close proximity of virile, strong, powerful, majestic stallion, a part that has his chest throbbing with wanting, has the apex of his thighs aching and dripping wet, until he presses his knees together and forces himself to take short deep breaths. But there's another part that's still the underclassman at the Garrison, awkward and helplessly smitten from the second he laid eyes on his new lab partner. That part is trying to keep him reminded that this is still Shiro, that it's Shiro who might not be interested in what Matt is now. Altered, changed, reformed into something base and primal and animalistic.
Still, it's a reaction of both these parts -- lovestruck schoolboy and lust-ridden breeder -- when Matt looks up through long eyelashes and frowns, almost pouts.]
[ nope there is definitely no problem with shiro's interest. matt had always been short and cute and maybe a little bit delicate, even if shiro would be the first to deny that that meant anything. it was always just a physical fact, that shiro knew he could pick matt up and carry him if he had to. that shiro's hands would naturally span his waist and fit his hips just so. that matt would have to tilt his head up and shiro would have to lean down.
that shiro could lift matt against the wall and hold him there.
alright, maybe shiro did have a little bit of a thing about their size difference, even though matt's more curves than skinny teenager now. but that doesn't mean he has a right to anything, and it doesn't mean he wants to join what has to be a long line of bigger, stronger tormentors trying to take advantage of matt. and shiro literally has an extra body grafted onto his body, between the two of them he's the one most removed from being human. at least matt has recognizable human anatomy.
the tryst they'd had in the stall earlier isn't an indicator of preference, either, matt had been trying to do a favor to thank him. so he'd wanted to give him an exit strategy, a gentle one, just in case, except he fucked up because matt's giving him the eyes and he actually flinches a little bit, his coat shivering. ]
No! No, of course not-- I mean, of course I want you to stay, as long as you want, but you don't have to.
[ breathe shiro come on. his hooves lift and replace anxiously, quick-stepping in place, giving him away more than any human fidgeting ever would. ]
I don't want you to feel obligated, or uncomfortable. That's all.
[It definitely isn't a remnant of his human experiences that prompts Matt to step forward, to loosen his grip on the lead and smooth his soft, water-warmed hands over the shivers rippling through Shiro's still-dirtied coat. He was a suburban child, he never even saw a horse, except on TV. Whatever's guiding him right now isn't something he had before -- before everything.
It's that longing, that insatiable drive to comfort, to be of use, to be warm and soft and close, to give an outlet to all that nervous, pent-up energy. He's never felt more serene in his life, even though he knows logically having those big hooves coming down so close to him is dangerous. He reaches up, grabs Shiro's hands, tugs him down so they're somewhat close to face-to-face.]
I don't. Feel obligated. I want to. [A placid flick of his ears, a scrunched-nose smile.] I wanted to before, but because it's you...I want to more.
[ of course shiro lets himself be pulled down, giving to the slightest pressure. it feels natural to give way to matt, actually, there's none of the knee-jerk resistance he feels around other handlers and the galra.
also, he's getting the feeling that maybe matt is talking about more than just hiding out together in the breeding stall. he leans in cautiously, resting their foreheads together.
[Clever boy. There's a strange heady feeling that comes with this newfound power, the idea that his smell, his expression, the way he shies away or squares his shoulders can invite or deny or otherwise taunt and tease the numerous bundles of raging hormones still one that Matt's getting used to.
But if it's this particular bundle, still sweet and somehow guileless after everything he's been through, Matt thinks he could find this power appealing. He smiles, far from innocent, far from demure, nudges their noses together and without looking, swings the stall door wide.]
[ there's nothing subtle about that. shiro's nostrils blow wide, stallion instincts all at attention for the confirmation of a breeding partner and that door swinging open. his penis drops free completely of his sheath and bobs with every movement of his hindquarters, even bouncing up against his belly.
roughly, ]
I missed you, too.
[ he doesn't crowd matt forward into the stall, but it's kind of a near thing. his ears are pricked, tail arched, and he's definitely bringing his knees up higher than he needs to for each step, nearly prancing. part of him wants to ask matt to take up his lead again and treat him like a stud, tie him into position, get him ready for a mating, but he wants to let matt decide. ]
[The circumstances couldn't be stranger, but somehow despite that Matt is almost laughing, grinning up at Shiro and obligingly taking the lead rope again and tugging gently. It's endearing, the pricked ears, the prancing. Even if Shiro is conditioned and only reacting because of that, his body at least is ready and willing.
Matt is decidedly less than experienced, however -- the breeding stall is unfamiliar, much larger than the one they'd just left, and while he can sort of assume the function of the rings set in the walls and the bench in the center, he wants to do it right. So, once the stall door is shut, he leads Shiro over to the breeding bench, practically squirming with anticipation, then climbs onto it so they're eye-to-eye again.
It's easier to nuzzle his nose against Shiro's, play with his ears, stroke through his hair, easier to kiss him. Matt does, aware that his mouth probably still tastes like come, but not caring, just wanting that human gesture of intimacy, of wanting.]
[ the breeding stalls have all kinds of extra accommodations, from places to tie restraints at various heights to swing-out bars and padded benches to bring all sizes of partners together comfortably. there's even a corner with tiles and a drain and shower accessories, spray nozzles and sponges and brushes, a whole wall rack of various toys and floggers and ointments, and another corner with soft sawdust bedding for large hybrids and an actual bed, circular, with soft cushions and real blankets.
he comes willingly over to the bench and wraps his arms around matt, delighting in the opportunity to have him at his own height, kissing him as softly as he can, holding back, but shiro is hungry for it, touch-starved and needy. the taste in matt's mouth is a spur to his flanks, arousing him even further by thinking about it-- matt had been so greedy for him, not even hesitating.
he strokes up and down the line of matt's spine, learning his new shape, helplessly roughing up his soft hair. shiro's own velvety ears are extremely sensitive and he leans into matt's hands shamelessly, embarrassing himself with the soft whickering sounds he's making. he's breathing hard before long, more aroused than he can remember being with any of his other partners, but he doesn't want to rush. he doesn't want to just turn matt around and bend him over the bench.
a little shyly, ]
Will you wash me first? I can't. I can't really do it for myself, anymore.
Mmf? [The muffled sound comes because Matt is far too interested in kissing Shiro to oh proper attention, enjoy the soft rumbling nickering sounds that come when he teases those velvety pointed ears, curls his fingers around them and strokes. But the request is so sweet, so shyly out that he can't refuse.
So he doesn't, scrunching his nose affectionately and turning to loop the lead through a comfortably placed ring in the wall. It's a simple slip tie, easily undone should Shiro wish, but the security of it seems to be comforting to the bigger hybrid. Then Matt's climbing off the bench and attempting to figure out the hoses and various shampoos.
After some mishaps that are a little too convenient to be purely accidental (as in, they all end up making Matt more soaked, the thin tunic starting to cling in interesting places) he finally gets a steady, gentle stream of warm water flowing, breaking it with his palm so it doesn't startle Shiro as it wets his back and drips down his sides.] That okay? Warm enough?
[ he's a little shy of Matt's reaction to all this, to keeping the lead on, to asking Matt to handle him, but somehow it's not that weird. Matt is so gentle with him that it just feels intimate and comforting, and he can feel himself relaxing. He even grins a little at Matt soaking himself down, his tail swishing playfully and gently crowding Matt with his hindquarters just to get him to laugh and push him away.
The water feels fantastic on his dusty coat, and he cups handfuls himself to tip over his head, shaking out his hair. ]
[Matt does laugh, a bright, giggly, careless sound, pushing at the sleek, damp hide of Shiro's hindquarters, then reaching out in the same gesture to stroke his fingers through the black and white tail being flicked in his face. There's a softer look, something wondering and reverent.]
I wish they took better care of you. [He's frowning, gently teasing out the tangles with his fingers, leaning against Shiro's soaked flank.] You're so...you know.
[ he's trying not to sound bitter about it, but it's a simple fact that the galra enjoy letting their gladiators get roughed up. they have the technology to repair major injuries and they choose to let him be carved up like hamburger, just because it entertains the spectators. shiro doesn't think that he's a particularly vain person, but every scar, every laceration that they allow to build up on his skin is turning him into someone that doesn't look like takashi shirogane. he looks like a monster. he looks like a killer. the other stablehands that are afraid of him don't even know him, they just know that he wins in the arena and that he looks horrifying. ]
[Matt frowns, then steps closer, pressing his warm, damp body against Shiro's side, hands smoothing over his soaked flank, tracing the contour of his body with almost tangible reverence. His voice is very soft.]
You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Still. Okay?
[ well now all the blood in his body is divided between his dick and
his awful, betraying flush. matt can't just say things like that,
it shouldn't be allowed, and shiro can't even reach him to kiss him quiet.
]
[Damn right, because Matt is going to have his say. He's going to keep gently rubbing away the grime and dust with one of the soft sponges, free hand stroking over Shiro's flank, over the bunched muscles in his hindquarters, ghosting over the high point at his withers.]
I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be with you.
[ his ears are burning, and he stares hard at the floor and his own
front hooves, shifting restlessly. it's a simple, simple sentiment, and he
can't remember the last time it applied. he's been forced on partners and
had partners forced on him, he's cooperated with rivals in the arena before
having to turn on them, handlers have touched him and cleaned him and even
cared for him and none of it was willing.
he lets his knees fold awkwardly, sinking down to the spongy grid
mats covering the floor's drains. it puts him a little below matt's
height, and more effectively in his power. ]
Ah, there we go. [Matt seems much more satisfied like this, able to sponge at the old grime along Shiro's back, untangle the mats at the base of his tail, even hose off the still-human part of him, broad shoulders and the back of his neck and everything. Any restraint he might've had seems gone, in this warmer, larger space, because he moves his hands fearlessly, strokes through the damp hair at the nape of Shiro's neck, the thick muscles of his forelegs, everywhere in between.
He's quiet as he does it, too, the motions becoming a sort of ritual. Matt wonders, vaguely, how long it had been since someone touched Shiro without ulterior motives, without agenda. So he lingers, he's thorough. It's the better part of an hour before he steps around in front of Shiro, reaches to set wet, soap-smelling hands on either side of his face.]
[ it honestly takes most of that time for shiro to relax under
matt's hands, acclimating himself to being handled so gently without
tensing up or flinching. he wants to apologize every time it
happens.
being taken care of like this is almost indescribably intimate. the
instincts making his heart pound don't go away but become less urgent, a
background haze of constant, low level arousal. if he were still human he
might've spent the time half hard, in this form his penis remains
unsheathed and relaxed, twitching every now and then. the scent of the
soap matt's using is calming, unlike the sharp tang of disinfectant he's
used to, and it feels wonderful to finally, finally get clean, to have all
the blood and sweat and grime scrubbed from the places on his body that he
can't reach himself. the tangled, knotted strands of his tail are
embarrassing but there was no way for him to have brushed them out on his
own, not without contorting himself into a pretzel.
by the time matt's finished shiro feels almost boneless, nosing and
nudging at matt whenever he's in range. he's not trying to grope, just
letting his hands go with the movement of the water and the soap that's
covering both of them by now. matt's soaked clothes are more provocative
than concealing and shiro doesn't try to pull at them, running his fingers
over the top of the wet, clinging fabric to tease both of them. he smiles
up at matt's question, reaching up to stroke his wet bangs out of his eyes.
]
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It's-- [ okay, but it's not okay, nothing about any of this is okay, so he cups matt's face in both hands and looks at him helplessly. ]
It doesn't matter. Not compared to what they've done to you.
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But then Shiro's looking down at him with grief and concern and guilt, and Matt's forehead furrows in confusion.] Me? I'm fine. I'm okay.
[He stretches up, bumps his nose to Shiro's in a quick, instinctive gesture of comfort.] I found you. I'm wonderful.
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...yeah. I'm glad you found me, too.
Come on. Let's head over to the other stalls. Filling out the reservation schedule should buy us some privacy and some time, and maybe your pack of friends will forget about you.
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It's mercifully quiet and almost deserted, only a couple stable hands hurrying one way or the other. Some of them linger, either at the sight of Shiro or at Matt's scent (it's still heavy, alluring, willing, and he seems thoroughly unaware), but the sight of the stud chain seems to explain everything, and they continue on. Still, by the time they reach the roomy, comfortable breeding stall, Matt's trembling with anxiety, hands shaking as they open the door, grab at the schedule and try to keep his handwriting steady.]
I-I, um. Is. An hour? Two? I haven't ever. Actually been in. One of these.
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maybe it sells the deceit, though, because nobody stops them. shiro stamps and snorts at a couple lingering gazes, but nobody demands to know their destination, or follows them, or seems to care that shiro's restraints look a little haphazard.
a little surge of guilt moves through him when matt admits he's never been to the breeding stalls before. shiro has been here a lot, for a gladiator. ]
...put twelve hours. We can reserve it for the whole night. Y-you don't have to stay, of course, they'll just think I was brought in for a fuck and then my handler was too lazy to move me back to my own stall.
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Still, it's a reaction of both these parts -- lovestruck schoolboy and lust-ridden breeder -- when Matt looks up through long eyelashes and frowns, almost pouts.]
Do you...not want me to stay?
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that shiro could lift matt against the wall and hold him there.
alright, maybe shiro did have a little bit of a thing about their size difference, even though matt's more curves than skinny teenager now. but that doesn't mean he has a right to anything, and it doesn't mean he wants to join what has to be a long line of bigger, stronger tormentors trying to take advantage of matt. and shiro literally has an extra body grafted onto his body, between the two of them he's the one most removed from being human. at least matt has recognizable human anatomy.
the tryst they'd had in the stall earlier isn't an indicator of preference, either, matt had been trying to do a favor to thank him. so he'd wanted to give him an exit strategy, a gentle one, just in case, except he fucked up because matt's giving him the eyes and he actually flinches a little bit, his coat shivering. ]
No! No, of course not-- I mean, of course I want you to stay, as long as you want, but you don't have to.
[ breathe shiro come on. his hooves lift and replace anxiously, quick-stepping in place, giving him away more than any human fidgeting ever would. ]
I don't want you to feel obligated, or uncomfortable. That's all.
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It's that longing, that insatiable drive to comfort, to be of use, to be warm and soft and close, to give an outlet to all that nervous, pent-up energy. He's never felt more serene in his life, even though he knows logically having those big hooves coming down so close to him is dangerous. He reaches up, grabs Shiro's hands, tugs him down so they're somewhat close to face-to-face.]
I don't. Feel obligated. I want to. [A placid flick of his ears, a scrunched-nose smile.] I wanted to before, but because it's you...I want to more.
Does that make sense?
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also, he's getting the feeling that maybe matt is talking about more than just hiding out together in the breeding stall. he leans in cautiously, resting their foreheads together.
soft, ]
What do you want, Matt?
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But if it's this particular bundle, still sweet and somehow guileless after everything he's been through, Matt thinks he could find this power appealing. He smiles, far from innocent, far from demure, nudges their noses together and without looking, swings the stall door wide.]
I want to show you how much I missed you, Shiro.
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roughly, ]
I missed you, too.
[ he doesn't crowd matt forward into the stall, but it's kind of a near thing. his ears are pricked, tail arched, and he's definitely bringing his knees up higher than he needs to for each step, nearly prancing. part of him wants to ask matt to take up his lead again and treat him like a stud, tie him into position, get him ready for a mating, but he wants to let matt decide. ]
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Matt is decidedly less than experienced, however -- the breeding stall is unfamiliar, much larger than the one they'd just left, and while he can sort of assume the function of the rings set in the walls and the bench in the center, he wants to do it right. So, once the stall door is shut, he leads Shiro over to the breeding bench, practically squirming with anticipation, then climbs onto it so they're eye-to-eye again.
It's easier to nuzzle his nose against Shiro's, play with his ears, stroke through his hair, easier to kiss him. Matt does, aware that his mouth probably still tastes like come, but not caring, just wanting that human gesture of intimacy, of wanting.]
Tell me what to do?
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he comes willingly over to the bench and wraps his arms around matt, delighting in the opportunity to have him at his own height, kissing him as softly as he can, holding back, but shiro is hungry for it, touch-starved and needy. the taste in matt's mouth is a spur to his flanks, arousing him even further by thinking about it-- matt had been so greedy for him, not even hesitating.
he strokes up and down the line of matt's spine, learning his new shape, helplessly roughing up his soft hair. shiro's own velvety ears are extremely sensitive and he leans into matt's hands shamelessly, embarrassing himself with the soft whickering sounds he's making. he's breathing hard before long, more aroused than he can remember being with any of his other partners, but he doesn't want to rush. he doesn't want to just turn matt around and bend him over the bench.
a little shyly, ]
Will you wash me first? I can't. I can't really do it for myself, anymore.
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So he doesn't, scrunching his nose affectionately and turning to loop the lead through a comfortably placed ring in the wall. It's a simple slip tie, easily undone should Shiro wish, but the security of it seems to be comforting to the bigger hybrid. Then Matt's climbing off the bench and attempting to figure out the hoses and various shampoos.
After some mishaps that are a little too convenient to be purely accidental (as in, they all end up making Matt more soaked, the thin tunic starting to cling in interesting places) he finally gets a steady, gentle stream of warm water flowing, breaking it with his palm so it doesn't startle Shiro as it wets his back and drips down his sides.] That okay? Warm enough?
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The water feels fantastic on his dusty coat, and he cups handfuls himself to tip over his head, shaking out his hair. ]
It feels great.
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I wish they took better care of you. [He's frowning, gently teasing out the tangles with his fingers, leaning against Shiro's soaked flank.] You're so...you know.
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[ he's trying not to sound bitter about it, but it's a simple fact that the galra enjoy letting their gladiators get roughed up. they have the technology to repair major injuries and they choose to let him be carved up like hamburger, just because it entertains the spectators. shiro doesn't think that he's a particularly vain person, but every scar, every laceration that they allow to build up on his skin is turning him into someone that doesn't look like takashi shirogane. he looks like a monster. he looks like a killer. the other stablehands that are afraid of him don't even know him, they just know that he wins in the arena and that he looks horrifying. ]
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Beautiful.
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[ oh my god matt please. he flushes, swishing his tail. ]
I'm half horse, Matt. And I look like I've been through a meat grinder.
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You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Still. Okay?
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[ well now all the blood in his body is divided between his dick and his awful, betraying flush. matt can't just say things like that, it shouldn't be allowed, and shiro can't even reach him to kiss him quiet. ]
If. If you say so.
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I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be with you.
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...thank you, Matt.
[ his ears are burning, and he stares hard at the floor and his own front hooves, shifting restlessly. it's a simple, simple sentiment, and he can't remember the last time it applied. he's been forced on partners and had partners forced on him, he's cooperated with rivals in the arena before having to turn on them, handlers have touched him and cleaned him and even cared for him and none of it was willing.
he lets his knees fold awkwardly, sinking down to the spongy grid mats covering the floor's drains. it puts him a little below matt's height, and more effectively in his power. ]
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He's quiet as he does it, too, the motions becoming a sort of ritual. Matt wonders, vaguely, how long it had been since someone touched Shiro without ulterior motives, without agenda. So he lingers, he's thorough. It's the better part of an hour before he steps around in front of Shiro, reaches to set wet, soap-smelling hands on either side of his face.]
Feel better?
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[ it honestly takes most of that time for shiro to relax under matt's hands, acclimating himself to being handled so gently without tensing up or flinching. he wants to apologize every time it happens.
being taken care of like this is almost indescribably intimate. the instincts making his heart pound don't go away but become less urgent, a background haze of constant, low level arousal. if he were still human he might've spent the time half hard, in this form his penis remains unsheathed and relaxed, twitching every now and then. the scent of the soap matt's using is calming, unlike the sharp tang of disinfectant he's used to, and it feels wonderful to finally, finally get clean, to have all the blood and sweat and grime scrubbed from the places on his body that he can't reach himself. the tangled, knotted strands of his tail are embarrassing but there was no way for him to have brushed them out on his own, not without contorting himself into a pretzel.
by the time matt's finished shiro feels almost boneless, nosing and nudging at matt whenever he's in range. he's not trying to grope, just letting his hands go with the movement of the water and the soap that's covering both of them by now. matt's soaked clothes are more provocative than concealing and shiro doesn't try to pull at them, running his fingers over the top of the wet, clinging fabric to tease both of them. he smiles up at matt's question, reaching up to stroke his wet bangs out of his eyes. ]
I feel like I haven't been clean in years.
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