Body Language (new title, was Yozak-Kouma)

Body Language (chapter 1 of 2)
Author: Tsutsuji
(new title, was Yozak-Kouma)
Fandom: Kyo Kara Maoh!
Pairing: Conrad/Yozak
Rating: R, mainly for kink. (there's also sex... eventually)
Warnings: weelll, the request was for Pony Play, so... yeah. yaoi, bondage, and roleplay. No actual animals involved, so no, it's not bestiality. It's also not beta'd.
Word count for chapter 1: ~2450

Note: Kouma is Japanese for pony, literally "little horse."

Yozak loves to talk, and most of the time, Conrad is happy enough to listen while he shares his keen observations of everyone they know, his complaints about work, and even his remarks about Conrad's own personal quirks. But at those times when Conrad is ready to have Yozak's attention turned to other matters, he's found that there are ways to shut him up - only a few ways, but very effective.

In fact, that all he has to do these days is walk over to the huge wardrobe where Yozak keeps all his many disguises and various other gear, and the talking begins to stop before he even opens the door. By the time he brings out the bit and bridle, or the muzzle as the case may be, blessed silence falls.

On this particular evening, after talking for awhile and then listening for a while longer, it happens to be the bridle he chooses. It only takes the soft jingle of silver rings and buckles, and the lift of Conrad's eyebrows in a question that only expects one answer.

Yozak stops where he stands, mouth hanging open in mid word, eyes flicking from Conrad's face to his hands and back again. Slowly, the breath he drew to speak pours of out of him, and something relaxes all through his body. Almost imperceptibly, he leans forward.

Conrad smiles. It's all too easy to imagine pointed ears pivoting toward him, alert for his next word. Clear blue eyes watch him come closer, watch his hands lift the bridle toward his face. Only a tiny flicker, as if an instinct to flinch away from him is quelled, and then Yozak dips his head as he accepts the bit between his teeth.

Conrad slides his palm along Yozak's jaw, feeling the answering push against his hand. It's the answer he expected, and the only kind he'll get now. There will be no more conversation tonight - no words exchanged, at least.

Yozak's hands, raised in a gesture to emphasize whatever he'd been saying, now drop to his sides while Conrad fastens the leather straps in place around his head. He combs his fingers through the thick, red mane that falls back over Yozak's shoulders. Yozak gives his head a shake and puffs air out through his nostrils.

"I know," Conrad says in a soothing voice. "I haven't brushed you properly yet. I'll take care of that a little later."

Yozak twitches impatiently when Conrad moves away to gather the rest of his tack. Powerful muscles quiver in anticipation, until Conrad brushes a calming hand down his shoulders and his back. After that, Yozak remains quite still, only lifting an arm or a leg in response to Conrad's touch. Soon every article of clothing has been removed and replaced with a leather harness that leaves more skin bare than covered.

Yozak's breath comes out in quick, heavy puffs through his nose, revealing both his impatience and his slowly growing arousal. Before Conrad is done, he tosses his head up and down, lifts a foot and stamps softly, making the rings on the harness jingle. Securing the last part of the harness in place, Conrad lets his fingers trail over Yozak's naked flank, smiling when the muscles twitch.

"Not yet, Kouma," Conrad says.

Yozak goes quiet. The name, chosen by Conrad from a language Yozak doesn't know, is even more effective than the bit and bridle at getting his full attention.

With one last resigned snort, Yozak-Kouma lowers his head again and waits, arms still hanging limp at his sides, deep breaths flexing the supple leather bands across his broad chest. His skin gleams, accentuating the powerful lines of his back and thighs.

Conrad steps back to admire the sight for a moment, then moves away again to fetch the final item. Yozak-Kouma's head comes up; peering out from the under the forelock that has fallen across his eyes, he catches sight of the saddle. Blue eyes go wide, and as Conrad brings it over he stamps again and shakes his head eagerly - then goes totally still in an instant when Conrad lays a hand on his flank.

"It's a perfect evening for a ride, isn't it?" Conrad says, speaking softly in Japanese. A language Yozak Gurier doesn't know a word of, but that doesn't matter because ponies don't understand human words, anyway.

~~~

Yozak only plays this particular role for Conrad. Maybe that's why, out of all the many roles he's ever played, he falls into this one more quickly and easily, and more deeply, than any of them - because it's for Conrad and himself, alone.

Of course, he'd happily carry anyone on his back if necessity called for it, always glad to put his muscles too good use in that way. He used to carry other children "piggyback" around the nameless village, to keep them entertained while their mothers struggled to bring food to all their mouths; he's carried wounded men away from slow death on the battlefield and saved foolish young kings from their own naive heroics, all by the strength of his back and his good, strong legs. But no one else would ever be allowed to put a saddle on his back, feet in the stirrups and reins in hand, and direct his every step - no one else except Conrad Weller.

He lets his thoughts stutter to a halt when Conrad finally lifts the saddle, just as his words had been stopped earlier. He can't help twitching a little when the weight of it lands on his back, but Conrad's words and hands soothe his nerves and help him settle into the feel of it like a strong embrace.

The bridle seems to enclose his mind just as the harness covers his body, not restricting, but defining his thoughts in the same way the bridle and bit control his movements. His body no longer feels entirely human, in fact; it would seem unnatural to pick up a pen or a sword now, he thinks, even before Conrad attaches his wrists to the chest harness, pinning his hands up near his shoulders where he can't use them anyway.

Conrad's words are no more than murmured sounds, all meaning conveyed in their tone and volume and the touches that accompany them. They tell him all he needs to know, and the only decision he's required to make is whether to obey or rebel against them. Rebellion could carry its own interesting consequences, he knows, although he hasn't caught sight of that riding crop yet this evening. He's not in the mood to test his rider right now, though. For the moment at least, he goes with the instinct to follow Conrad wherever he happens to lead.

Following Conrad is a choice Yozak made long ago, and has continued to make for so long that it feels like instinct now. They hardly need words to communicate any more; a glance or a touch, or even the clash of their blades together in a certain way, tells everything between them; he found that out for certain at the edge of a cliff somewhere on Francia's border, and has never doubted it since.

Even so, following Conrad's lead in this particular fashion had started out as a humorous accident, surprising both of them when it quickly became something more. It had happened because, as usual, Conrad had started to complain that he talked too much during sex, which on that occasion they happened to be having quite spontaneously in a stable. Yozak had challenged Conrad to give him something else to do with his mouth, but instead of the usual outcome he'd expected from that ploy, Conrad had reached over and grabbed the nearest thing handy to stuff in his mouth as a gag. This turned out to be a thick length of rawhide, and Yozak soon had a strip of horsey tasting leather jammed between his teeth.

Being silenced so roughly had sent a surprising shot of heat down his spine, and he'd bucked against Conrad with a snarl that came out like the snort of an angry stallion. When Conrad had pulled him up short with a yank on his makeshift reins, Yozak had gone wild. The "ride" that followed had left both of them sweating, limp, and panting for breath, half buried in in the hay. They'd looked at each other afterward with a sense of recognition. Yozak wondered if anyone had ever noticed that strip of leather had gone missing; putting his skill at disguise to good use, he'd soon made his first full harness out of it.

One thing had led to another after that, and brought them to tonight.

So, now, Yozak-Kouma waits, staring straight ahead, only tossing his head a little now and then, while Conrad cinches the saddle onto his back, smoothing each strap and buckle into place with confident hands. The quivering energy is building up inside Yozak-Kouma's heart, the restless desire to be out in the open air and moving with his rider. Free, for once, of the constant need to observe and analyze each and every thing that's happening around him, he waits anxiously for his rider to begin guiding him.

Waiting with perfect trust, but with plenty of impatience as well. He snorts with relief when Conrad opens the door and leads him through; he steps out hesitantly through the narrow opening into the cool, early evening air.

At a word from Conrad he bends low. Familiar, welcome weight settles into the saddle; the swordsman's strong thighs press against his sides, and he feels the first, slight tug on the bit between his teeth as his rider lifts the reins. Conrad strokes the back of his neck briefly as he stands upright again. His ears twitch, waiting for the next command, and ready when it comes.

A soft word and the tug of the reins to the left direct him toward the barely noticeable path that leads away from all the barracks and the town, away from all the buildings where windows are just starting to glow with lamplight. Happily, with a frisky toss of his mane, Yozak-Kouma trots off down the path, carrying his rider away into the dusk.

He loves the smell of the grass, the packed earth under his feet, the whisper of the evening air against his skin, the confident weight on his back. He loves putting the strength of his body to the task of carrying Conrad, and most of all he loves the pleasure in Conrad's voice and touch when he answers immediately to every soft command.

And he loves having Conrad's full, undivided attention. After all, if he caught that attention wavering, he'd be free to dump his rider and gallop away on his own. He can make himself pretty damn hard to catch when he wants to, and Conrad knows it.

There's no breaking free tonight, though. There's only the press of Conrad's thigh, the lean of his weight to one side or the other and the sound of his voice to lead him along, and the willing urge to follow each command. Even though he can't see his rider, they remain connected every step of the way. Thought falls away in the pleasure of that connection, and the ground flies by under his feet.

The ride is over too soon, even though it's nearly full dark and he's sweating and breathing hard when they return to the paddock - that is, to Yozak the spy's quarters at the far end of the barracks. Conrad dismounts, patting his neck when he steps in front of him. Yozak-Kouma nudges him with his head and stamps a foot in the dirt. He doesn't mind taking a break, but he's hardly tired yet, and he already misses Conrad's weight on his back.

Conrad holds the reins gathered loosely in one hand and rubs his knuckles against Yozak-Kouma's mouth with the other, soothing the strain of the bit. He leans in for more, enjoying the touch so much that it takes several seconds for soft-spoken words to come together and make sense in his mind. Words spoken in his own language, unlike the commands and soothing praises he's heard so far. That means Conrad intends for him to understand them this time.

"We've been gone for an hour, Kouma," Conrad says. His voice is tinged with affectionate humor. "I know you've probably lost track of time, but I did say that I intended to give you a good grooming tonight, didn't I?"

The dooryard is private enough to allow Yozak the spy to come and go without much notice being taken, but unfortunately not quite hidden enough to allow for Yozak-Kouma to stand outside in nothing more than a head harness while he's groomed down after his workout, even in the dark of the evening - no matter how much Yozak might enjoy that, exposure and all.

Yozak-Kouma snorts, paws the ground, and tugs back on the reins when Conrad pulls him toward the door, but his rider only clucks and grins at his protest, knowing it's mostly playful anyway. Once inside, Conrad checks his mouth and wipes his lips, but when he holds up the hitless halter, Yozak-Kouma sidesteps away from him and shakes his head. Conrad doesn't seem surprised; he just fastens the reins carefully so the bit doesn't become uncomfortable. Soon he's tethered, as usual, to the bedpost, waiting with some impatience for his grooming to begin.

(tbc)

Note: The idea of using a foreign language for Kouma's commands comes from a Trainer I read about online, La Dresseuse Maureen. According to a story about her on the "Lust Bites" blog site, she speaks to her human ponies in French because "real ponies don't understand English" - they only understand tone of voice and body language. That makes so much sense I had to use it.