Evening with El Diablo

"I've never had special treatment before, I don't expect it now," he said, almost guilty. "I...just help me forget, if only for a few minutes."

Smirking, I shrugged off the rest of my shirt, reaching for his jeans. "I think my attention lasts for longer than a few minutes," I promised. I bit his shoulder-not hard, just a momentary flash of teeth against skin-and Carey sagged against the wall, a quiet moan betraying any doubt in my mind that he might not want any of this at the moment. My hands for their size were quick and had undone and zipped down the well worn pair of blue jeans that were honestly worn through from use, not bought that way before he could recover and further distract me.

I was surprised that Carey reached for my dress pants and belt on his own accord with no prodding from me what so ever even if he stopped a few times, unsure. Maybe he didn't know the finer parts of the dance but I was pretty sure he had at least seen enough people dance to help him along. "You know what you're doing, Carey. Just go with what you know; you've probably seen enough porn," I assured him.

To my surprise, he chuckled. "Richard, I've only seen porn twice in my life, once by accident and the other time...well there were no men involved," Carey admitted. "I'm flying blind."

He sure knew how to make me wince without intending to. I felt like a dragon eating a virgin so I didn't destroy a town only this time the virgin in grief was asking for it. I began to ask him if he was still sure about all of this when he reached past my boxers and wrapped his fingers around my cock, knowing probably it would shut me up.

His plan worked-I gripped his ribs so hard that I was sure he'd have bruises in the morning, remembering somehow not to say something blasphemous and instead settled on moaning. "Not too...blind," I hissed and licked the hollow of his throat. Only with my brother was I truly aggressive, teeth, nails, and bruises because we pretty much fought. Neither of us liked to lose, no matter how good it felt; I guess it came with the territory of competing against each other since he was born. But with Carey, I decided to keep the claws in until I figured out what he liked and what he didn't.

I shouldn't be surprised that he wore briefs; after all, he's an All American Boy-but what I was surprised to find is that we were close in size, just I was a bit thicker and heavier. Didn't stop me from giving him an appreciative tug and muttering, "Well Carey Sander, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" He gasped, loudly, the rest of his body frozen as it tried to figure out-and if you'll excuse the irony of the statement-what the hell was going on.

"I-oh good Lord," Carey stammered, almost doubling over and I fought to catch him. He was only fifteen pounds bigger but he was still heavy and I coaxed him to lean back against the wall instead of me. It was about then I decided that I was going to be too busy leading my him through the desert to find something of my own out of this. 'But you'll like it,' I reminded myself, still feeling him flex in my hands. 'Power means that much to you, you know that.'

"I gather you liked that," I whispered, pushing his hands away from me even though a part of me ached to make him let go. "Don't you worry about that. Relax. Don't think." Tugging his jeans and underwear further down, I kissed his chest and neck before grabbing his hand and squeezing it to say, "I know, I'm here, calm down," when I thought he would hyperventilate from panic.

Carey took a deep breath and looked at me but still had the gaze of a condemned man. "I'm trying," he said shakily but his eyes got wide when I knelt. "No! Richard, no you can't do that, I'll-"

"Climax assisted for once in your life?" I smirked, stroking him firmly. "What was that about letting go?" My brother would get a laugh at what I was doing right now; I only went down on him when I lost some bet or I wanted to surprise the hell out of him but doing it just for the sake of it? Wasn't my style. But I was going to have to pacify my fellow quarterback before I could even think about anything else.

I licked the tip of his cock, smirking when he shuddered and attempted to hide it. Carey looked away, panting, trying everything to not look down and see just exactly I was doing but I pulled away, kissing away a drop of pre-cum. "Are you fighting me, Carey?" I asked in a low voice.

"I-I no," he stammered and I squeezed him, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to let him know I could hurt him.

"I don't like being lied to," I rumbled, voice deepening in warning. I, too could be a righteous and angry God but I was far more Old Testament than the heavily devout and muscled man that leaned against the wall. For good or for evil-more than likely evil all things considered-I was good at what I did.

He finally looked down at me, gasping and nodding frantically, hands grabbing his thighs for lack of a better place to put them. "I'm sorry, I-" Carey started but I sucked the end of him carefully, seeing his eyes flutter shut. "Richard, I don't know what to do."

To that I had to honestly smile and kiss the knuckles of his hands that were pale from gripping so hard. "Enjoy everything I am giving you," I whispered honestly, giving him a hungry once over. "Because I am definitely enjoying everything you are giving me."

He took a shuddering breath, more pre-cum flowing over my fingers, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Those wonderful arms flexed and moved as Carey tried to hold his concentration and failed, broad chest heaving as he tried to breathe. 'This boy-no, man, he's gorgeous and barely has any idea,' I thought fleetingly when he looked down again.

"I'm not...doing much," Carey swallowed.

"No, but it's more than I ever expected," I answered honestly and swallowed him slowly, carefully, all the way. He finally let out a deep and proper moan, one that sounded guilty for enjoying what I was doing to him. I felt him touch my shoulder-barely a ghost of a touch really-before pulling away like he felt hot coals. That made me chuckle. Touching me made it real, made his desire real and that was the last thing he wanted.

But the first thing he wanted was me not to stop and who was I to defy the Unspoken Word of a Favorite Son? Even then, there was a growl rumbling low in my throat, one of possession and dominance. I wanted this man and I shouldn't. I wanted to watch the thick muscles of his back move under my hands. I wanted to bury myself deep in his body and make him scream and beg for things he never thought about, couldn't think about because of his faith until he couldn't do anything else.

My name leaving his lips, barely loud enough to be heard drew me out of my thoughts and I looked up at Carey who finally gave in. There was barely a slice of blue-hazel left in his pupils and he gasped. "Shi-" the other quarterback whispered before blinking almost in shock. "S-Sorry, didn't mean to swear-oh wow, that feels...amazing."

I wanted to laugh at that. As if I'd be offended; I probably swore more in a day than Carey did in a year. I didn't bother to pull back and let him know that fact, only kept going, watching his abs flex, sweat making his body slick. Every time I could feel Carey coming close to finishing, I pulled back until I finally got what I wanted: "Please Richard," he begged, tossing his head back. "Please just let me..."

My erection pulsed, wanting nothing more than to assist him in his quest but I ignored it. If I ever got him alone again, his words were an ace that I had: "Remember, you begged for me and meant every word of it. Remember you would've rather walked into hell than have me stop," I could say. I only sped up, breathing calmly out of my nose and holding his hips to keep him from unconsciously thrusting so I didn't choke. Flexing my tongue under the head of his cock, I heard Carey yell then freeze before he finally climaxed, pulsing hard enough to make me snort to keep from choking.

'See, this is what happens when you don't masturbate on a regular basis,' I thought, amused. 'You turn into a fire hose.' It was still easier for me to swallow than find somewhere to spit because I was still trying to hold Carey up as the last of his orgasm faded. 'Tastes like bleach but I can't worry about that now. Damn, he's shorter but he's built like a brick shit house.'

"I, Richard...what about," he started to babble and I let go of him with my mouth, standing, taking a deep breath.

"Shhh," I assured him, kissing his neck but at the same time pulling up his pants and underwear. "It's ok." His clothes wouldn't be too wet; I had been told that I gave 'refined' blow jobs. Really I just hated clean up and would rather bask in after glow than deal with spit and semen everywhere.

His eyes were trying hard to focus on me and he swayed as I zipped him up. "But you-I should-"

"You should lay down," I ordered, guiding him to the bed and making him lay down. "Sleep, Carey. Not for three days but sleep. I'll wake you in a bit."

He looked briefly like he would argue but didn't have the energy to and fell asleep, mouth slightly open. "Sleep and get ready to ask for forgiveness because I know you will," I whispered, a smile forming not of my own accord. I stepped away and went to the next room, snagging my cell phone. I had a few calls to make before he woke up.