Trace Griffin was thoroughly enjoying the sight of the little man’s arm muscles bulging as he lifted the fork full of dirty hay and shit, and pitched it into the cart. He had to admit the muscles weren’t huge on the lean man, but they were fun to watch moving under all that tanned skin. Trace had been watching the man for most of the last few days as he continued to shoe the big draft horses of the Winston farm.
Trace was getting tired. He had been traveling around to different farms for two weeks now and the last three days were spent shoeing horses for Silas Winston. He was looking forward to going home to the Crazy Angle Ranch tomorrow.
When he had first arrived and went into the barn with Silas to go over which horses needed his services, he noticed the man everyone called Xavi right away. How could he not? Xavi was everything Trace was attracted to. He was about five-eight, with wavy, short, black hair and a pouty mouth that Trace had immediately imagined having stretched around his dick.
Unfortunately, although Xavi had nodded a greeting to Trace each morning, that was about as close as Xavi would get. From what Trace could see, Xavi kept his head down, didn’t speak to anyone and did his work to the best of his abilities. Yet, the other hands were friendly with the man, engaging in small talk anytime they were near him.
The horse above Trace shifted, making the metal stand it was resting its hoof on creak.
“Easy now, buddy, you’re fine,” Trace said. He was trying to finish putting the last shoe on the skittish gelding. Trace knew most of the horses on the different farms, Graham, his boss, sent him to. But, Satellite, was new to Trace as well as to the Winston farm.
Most of the time, when he shod a horse, he would put the horse in cross ties and someone from the farm would hold the horse’s head. This worked well and he usually didn’t have too many problems. Although there had been some talk about getting him an assistant. Trace could admit it would be nice having a little help, especially with the paperwork. He spent a lot of time with Adam, the Crazy Angle’s foreman, after every trip. Together, it sometimes took a lot of time and maybe a little alcohol, but they managed to decipher what he had wrote down, from each shoeing.
Looking down at the shoe he was working on, he saw he needed to make a slight adjustment to one side. “Silas, can you hand me the rasp?”
Satellite shifted again, jerking his head up, pulling at the cross ties. Silas tightened his grip on the halter and stroked the horse’s neck, trying to calm him. Nobody wanted to be near an agitated two thousand pound animal.
“Here now, Satellite, you’re fine. Settle down, now,” Silas said. “Xavi, could get that rasp for Trace? It’s right there on top of the box, next to Satellite’s back leg.”
The horse tensed again as Xavi neared, but then seemed to calm down. Bent over as he was with the hoof between his legs, Trace was in a somewhat awkward and vulnerable position. He already had a few ideas on how he was going to handle this horse next time he worked on him.
Xavi had just picked up the rasp and was about to hand it to Trace, when two small children burst through the open doors of the barn. At the top of their lungs, they screamed “Grandpa, Grandpa!”
All hell broke loose. Satellite tore his hoof away from Trace and off of the stand. He then swung his great weight, dancing around. Instinctively Trace knew what was going to happen, and when he saw Satellite’s back hoof shoot out right towards Xavi’s hip and abdomen area. Trace didn’t hesitate as he took a step forward, right in front of the dinner plate sized hoof, before it could tear Xavi apart.
A huge bright light of pain burst through his thigh as he was thrown into Xavi, both of them hitting the concrete floor and rolling a few feet.
Trace heard Silas ordering the children to run back to the house by Grandma, as he struggled to calm the distressed horse. Trace lay there on the cold concrete breathing through the pain radiating from his thigh. Through the slits of his eyes, he saw Xavi appear hovering above him and felt a warm hand rest on the middle of his chest. Worried grey eyes, surrounded by long black lashes looked down at him.
“Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?” Xavi asked.
Trace covered the hand on his chest with his, liking how the connection felt. Even though his thigh was on fire, this thing that was going on between them, for the moment over powered it.
“Just give me a moment.” Trace said.
“I have to check your leg.” Xavi said. “Please, my hand.”
Trace’s light blue eyes met worried grey eyes. “All right.”
Trace wasn’t a fan of letting that hand go, but he knew he had to get off of the cold concrete soon. From past experience he would be stiffening up real quick. A hot shower, followed by some over the counter pain killers, then a bed was what he needed. What he wouldn’t give to have Xavi’s tight little body pressed up against him in that bed.
Xavi gently cupped his hands around Trace’s thigh as far as they could reach. Trace could feel Xavi slowly run his hands along the already swelling leg, from his knee to his groin. Trace may have hissed in pain from the contact against the damaged muscle, but that didn’t stop his cock from jerking a little at the close proximity of Xavi’s fingers.
“How is he Xavi? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” Silas must have finished taking care of Satellite and his grandchildren. Trace could see him standing just behind Xavi.
“I don’t need an ambulance. Help me up,” Trace ordered.