Evening with El Diablo Ch. 03

"I wasn't hearing much complaining three minutes ago," I pointed out and wrapped them in tissue before throwing them in the wastebasket next to the couch. I took a moment to relax, to let my skin finish tingling and my breathing to slow down before I kissed David on the knee. "Little brother, sometimes you amaze even me." I couldn't say what I was really thinking; that was his job and he wouldn't let me down.

David chuckled. "Love you too," he mumbled, eyes barely open. "I'm not equipped to...explain what just...happened. You talk to Carey?"

Ah, I had almost forgotten our little altar boy. Carey stared at us, frozen in the same place that I last saw him but leaning forward to hide a very obvious erection. And those eyes...

I knew when I saw a potential for head space. Knew it and felt everyone should experience it at least once and judging by the curious, input ready gaze that was locked onto me, I had a candidate in the palm of my hand. 'This is a watershed moment--does he trust me that a flood is coming or does he ignore it?'

"Carey, are you alright?" I asked calmly and he flinched.

"I'm...fine," the young man answered carefully. "Doesn't it hurt?"

There was no stopping David from laughing at that. "Like hell at first, Carey," he offered but didn't open his eyes. "But it's worth it. Goddamn. Pardon the term."

That made him smile. Perhaps he was more comfortable than he let on or perhaps he was even more gone. Either way, it was a point in my favor. "Blaspheming aside, did you get at least a few questions answered?"

Carey cracked his knuckles, taking a deep breath. "I...think so?"

So lost. Little, little lamb, all alone in the desert. "Stand up," I ordered and not to my surprise he did, his body moving before his mind caught up. Once Carey realized he was standing, he blinked, confused and I knew I had to get him to stay docile, thinking with his body and not his soul.

"You know you can talk to me, tell me anything, Carey. Say what you feel and mean it," I said, raising an eyebrow. "But for now...I need something that tells me to slow down and when to stop. 'Yellow' and 'red' work for you?"

"Yes but what exactly are you planning on...doing to me, Richard?" he whispered, fear absolutely naked in his eyes.

"Nothing you don't want but what I know you can handle. If you feel uncomfortable, say either of them. I won't be mad," I recited. It was an assurance I gave all my partners who were submissive--and there was no mistaking it that in this state Carey Sanders was a submissive even if under normal circumstances he wasn't--and it rolled off my tongue easy. "Strip."

He reached for the hem of his shirt, muscles moving in a way I could appreciate. It was like watching a living Greek statue, all flat plains and defined muscles, dark brown hair crossing his chest and down his stomach until it hit his waistband. 'At least there's some attempt at keeping everything neat, even if no one would normally see it in a situation like this,' I mused as he shyly pulled off his jeans and socks.

While he undressed, I stood and pulled on my own underwear. It'd give me a sense of power, of not appearing on his level. I had clothes and Carey stood before me naked as the day he was born. "I'm not going to lay a finger on you," I said simply, walking towards him. "You're going to do that. Touch your chest. Slowly. Carefully. Like how I would."

It was easy to go this route. Carey would be the one bringing himself to orgasm, not me. At some point he was going to have to stop blaming this all on us subconsciously or no and just admit that yes, he did want myself and David, that sex felt good and that it just happens sometimes. The corner of my mouth quirked up in a half smile. "How many days since your last confession to God?" I asked, watching his hand gingerly touch across his pectoral muscles and down his abs.

"I'm...not Catholic," Carey corrected me. "But this morning."

"And?"

"I confessed...that I--" he stopped, shaking his head, attempting to clear it when I leaned in close, so close my lips almost touched his ear.

"What did our football Lamb of God confess to the Almighty?" I whispered. It was low, almost threatening but it caused his eyes to snap back into their original half glazed state.

"That I like what you guys did to me," Carey admitted, ashamed but his hand was traveling lower towards his erection on his own accord. "And that I'd do it again. Good Lord, I'd do it again and I--"

I cut him off, knowing where that train of thought was going. 'So sorry, but that's not the route we're going today, my little prophet.' "Touch your cock," I snapped, finally becoming as aggressive as I was with any other quarterback I played with and he did instantly. Pre-cum already dripped out of the end of him to the carpet and I snorted. "You're messing up David's carpet, Carey."

My brother tisked. "With a show like this, I have a severe lacking of damns how my carpet looks," he replied. He too had pulled back on his underwear but added his jeans even though they were still unbuttoned. "How many men and women would kill to see what we're seeing right now?"

"More than he thinks," I said knowingly, pulling back. "You don't consider yourself attractive, do you Carey?"

He licked his lips and it was only by the grace of God and a slice of self control that I didn't kiss him. "I'm just an athlete," he admitted. "Just in shape but everything else..." He trailed off, his hand still wrapped tightly around his erection but not moving. I knew why--he was still acting as if it was me touching him and he expected me to be rough with him, to deny him until I was ready.

I would normally tell Carey that only comes around the second or third time I'd be with him like this but why ruin the fantasy? Because that's what this was--his fantasy but he just didn't care to indulge in it on his own.

"Sometimes you are so oblivious it is quite adorable," I replied, walking to stand behind him. "Stroke yourself. Slow. Hard. David, come here."

David stood and padded barefoot to us, eyebrow raised in question. "Rich?"

"Help me," I ordered. He knew what I meant; I was raw while my brother more careful. A thunderstorm and an ocean if you will. But as in nature, sometimes a thunderstorm can help you sleep and an storm surge could be a bitch. It was all a matter of timing.

And my little brother had perfect timing. "You are as close to physically perfect as you could get," he assured him, running his palms close to his skin but not quite touching him. It made Carey shudder, his head thrown backwards in hedonistic enjoyment, him struggling not to move his hand faster.

"You want to finish, don't you?" I asked. I knew the answer but I had to hear it from him. He had to hear it from himself.

"Yes!" he gasped but he still didn't move any faster. Good boy.

"Would I go faster?"

Carey opened one eye, just a bit. "No. Because like your brother said, you're an ass," he whispered. I swallowed a belly laugh and settled on a loud chuckle, standing in front of Carey, placing my lips less than a half of inch away from his when my brother moved to stand behind him.

"Starting to learn how this works, Carey?" I praised him. "Very good. I may be an ass but so are you. You just haven't used it yet which is such a pity. I wonder what kind of righteous and angry God could you turn into. Would it be like on the field--focused, determined to destroy anything in your way even if it's some other quarterback's will like me? Or would you be calm and calculating like David? Speed up."

He obeyed and I stepped back to grab a few tissues from the coffee table but I doubted he noticed. The muscles in Carey's forearms started to stand out more than normal, frowning and panting in the effort not to climax. "You already knew that finishing before I said would make me displeased," I said like a proud parent. "You're better at the Game than you give yourself credit for. Do it. And let it hit you like a tackle--no holding back. I'll know if you do."

Nodding quickly, he moved faster but still fought, in denial to what was happening when David almost touched his face. "Carey. Trust us. Do this for us," he whispered gently. "For yourself. I know you can. It what you want. It's what your body wants."

If anything, my brother was the seducer even if he felt like he was too awkward to be and I was the dominator. Together, Carey had not a hope in heaven or hell of resisting us. He let out a strangled cry, one that sounded like he was in pain before he climaxed, me catching his ejaculate in the tissues I had just grabbed. Carey's knees gave out and we caught him by the biceps, him only able to give a dazed moan amid ragged panting. He finally let go of his still pulsing erection but I knew what it was like having your heart beat in your cock and your head somewhere else. Hell, I had just felt it when I was with David.

"Jeez, Carey you're fucking heavy," David grunted, the both of us guiding him back to the chair he originally sat in, letting him recline in his half awake state. One day he'd be able to stay awake and coherent after an orgasm. One day. It was just too new for him at this point.

"Sorry," Carey mumbled. "I didn't mean--"

"Shhh," I assured him, putting a hand on his forehead. "Relax. Don't think. Close your eyes. Rest." I used short and clipped orders because I'm pretty sure he didn't have the capability to respond to anything else. The other quarterback nodded and drifted off to sleep or maybe just passed out. I wasn't really sure but I sat down on the couch David and I had defiled, tossing the used tissues in the same trash can I put the condoms. "The man is a work out."

David flopped next to me. "I'll agree." He stopped and then raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you intend on ever actually...you know?"

"Having sex with him?" I finished, shrugging. "Maybe. Maybe not. Up to him. He's less apprehensive around you though. He'll probably do that with you first. Besides, you're closer to him distance wise." It was true. When I said my brother was a calming element, I meant it. I was more likely to scare, to roll Carey than he was and that was a true pity.

"Being with you doesn't require thinking. Carey needs that," David pointed out. "Needs a few minutes to forget he has a camera up his ass every ten minutes and that ninety percent of the world doubts him."

"He's barely touched me on his own accord," I replied, yawning. "No pressure. No rush. Though with all of that..." I gave his body an appraising look and smiled a bit. "It's hard not to."

David chuckled, standing to walk to the fridge tucked in the corner and pulled out three bottles of water, tossing one to me and setting another one on the coffee table for Carey. I cracked open the top when I heard a voice, faint as you could get--

"I want to..."

I looked at Carey, mildly concerned. "You want to stand up?" I asked, watching his eyes open just a slice.

"No. Touch you. Both of you. I just don't...know how," he said, barely conscious. I smiled and knew he was still somewhere else. 'Carey would not admit that, not on his own accord,' I mused. 'He's still in headspace.'

"One day you will," I soothed him. "But not today. Took seven days to make the Earth. Or a few million years. Either way, no matter what you believe, you need time. And time...is something we have a fair abundance of."