Evening With El Diablo Ch 02

There are parallels with some of these characters with real life people. Purely for entertainment purposes only.

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I waited until "Sanders-mania" died down before I called him and even then I was apprehensive. It wasn't like I was afraid but more or less worried how exactly this was supposed to be handled. Richard was the Game Master, not me. 'I'm not my brother. Obviously. Damnit.'

Oh sure, we had enough in common. We both could put a football in a one foot by one foot space from 40 yards away and we both had pretty strong personalities but he was...brighter. More flamboyant. I was subtlety-reserved, that guy you didn't know was there until I say something in a zinger. I only was that way because of the city and how it was living here. Richard didn't have to worry about ending up on the back page because I put my shoes on the wrong foot. I did. His previous cities were small towns in comparison.

For the record, yes I did put on my shoes backwards once. Luckily it was my cleats and I was at practice. I'm not the most coordinated guy in the world.

'Rich thinks I'm a calming element. Hell, if he got to him first, that doesn't mean anything-Carey obviously doesn't need a "calming element",' I snorted but finally dialed, putting my feet up on the coffee table.

The phone only rang twice. "Hello?"

"Hey Carey, it's David," I said simply. "Just wanted to check in, see how you were settling down." I could practically see him paling on the other end of the phone and suppressed a sigh. Ok, maybe I was going to have to be a calming element.

"I-well, good Mr. Williams," he stuttered. "How's...everything?"

My wife Lisa stood in the doorway and glared. "I know you're on the phone but get your feet off the table," she said. "Your mother taught you better than that." I laughed but took my feet down, giving her an innocent look.

"What feet?"

She threw her hands up in the air in mock exasperation but disappeared, leaving me to my phone conversation. "Just goofing off with the lady of the house," I replied. "And "Dave", come on. Mr. Williams is my dad. Or "David" if you're feeling Biblical which I figure is most of the time."

To that, he laughed and I knew he relaxed a bit. "I can do "David". Your brother said the same thing actually about calling him Mr. Williams. I..." Carey said quietly. "I'm still looking for a place to live-I was wondering if you knew of some?"

"We can discuss this over dinner," I offered until I realized it sounded like an order and added an, "If you'd like. I'll text you the directions to some place I'm pretty sure no one will follow you to. Cameras love you more than you know."

There was a bit of a hesitation before I got a, "Sure. I'll be there." After I hung up I was left to wonder what exactly did my big brother do to Carey Sanders.

And if I could do the same. Or if I even had any business doing so.

-

I worked out enough that I could eat whatever I wanted, which included much to my family's chagrin cold Spaghetti-Os and Oreos before every game I've ever played. I'd never be ripped in a sense-defined yes, ripped, no-and at six foot four, two hundred and twenty pounds was the heaviest I had ever been after being forced in the off-season to lift weights by my quarterback coach. To most people I looked skinny and awkward from far of way or on TV but I usually got in person the, "Whoa, you're kind of big." Seeing as I lined up against guys that were close to outweighing me by almost a hundred pounds, of course I looked skinny in comparison.

Italian food was an honest vice and a tiny place about five miles outside of the suburbs was my favorite. The owner knew me, knew I brought other players here to chat so he gave me the back room as per usual, leaving only one menu since I always ordered the same thing: spaghetti. I was easy to please.

Well, sort of.

"David, who am I looking for?" the owner asked and I smiled.

"Christ, the Football Redeemer," I said smirking. The older man laughed, nodded in understanding and went out front to guide what Richard called "our little wayward lamb" back to where I was sitting. I wore a suit, minus the tie, black with a light blue shirt that was undone at the top, trying to appear casual but also wanting to look like I gave a damn which I did. The only thing that mildly annoyed me was the fact that my hair was getting long enough that it was starting to curl on the ends. Ugh.

It was only a few minutes before the owner knocked on the door and walked in, followed by a confused and slightly apprehensive Carey Sanders. "Carey, glad you could make it," I smiled, standing up to shake his hand. Even if he was nervous, he kept a brave face, smiling in return and giving me a firm grip. His own suit was light brown, a blue/gray tie that matched his eyes but his beard was still there, only a little more than a five o'clock shadow.

"I-sorry I'm late," he apologized, sitting down. "I, well, was looking for something to wear since most of my stuff is still in Denver."

I waved it off. "Not a problem-you look fine. Look at the menu, we'll talk over food." Damn, I was starting to sound exactly like Richard. Not good. 'You don't give orders Mr. Easy Going, not that dismissively,' I reminded myself. 'But you do say things and expect them to be done. That's the problem with being a quarterback; you're in that mode even when you don't intend to be. Turn it off for a minute and just see what Carey wants.'

The young player scanned quickly and picked lasagna, rolling a glass of water in between his massive hands. "You're nervous," I said simply and he looked down, taking a deep breath. So much for 'turning it off'.

"Well," Carey started and then looked around, searching for someone else that could overhear him.

"We're alone. I pay quite well for that. The Game requires silence, full stop. No pictures, no recordings."

He nodded, sighing. "I-with your brother-I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I just..."

"Needed something? Comfort? Someone to talk to? A few moments to forget?" I surmised, swallowing wine which I offered a glass. Carey hesitated for a moment but gave a little shrug as if to say, "Why not?" and I poured him some.

"I guess. All of that. I've accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior and none of my faith could save me," he replied sadly and drank a bit of expensive Blood to give his hands something to do.

'Oh hell, guilt. What keeps Christians devout,' I remembered, leaning back. "Only He knows what you need, right? Sometimes it's not a matter of repressing but a matter of experience. If you believe your future is pre-determined-that no one knows the Day or Hour of the Return but Him-then you can't be upset. If it happened then He knew about it."

"God gave us free will and I...abused that."

I crossed my arms. "Who did you hurt Carey? Not Richard. He was quite...pleased with you. I can see why," I explained and there must have been something in my look that gave him reason to blush. "Your relationship with God? Something that you can easily fix with Him being omnipotent, being a forgiving God that even murderers can find redemption in? You're hurting yourself in the name of absolution in hopes of redemption. Personally, I don't think you need it-redemption I mean-but only you and your Man Upstairs can decide that."

Carey frowned, unsure. My words were conflicting with decades of religion which was something that I was not expecting. 'There shouldn't even be a conflict. Something was already there then,' I realized. 'Some form of doubt. Our choir boy might sing a half step lower than he realizes and all it took was Richard being, well, Richard.'

"I-I shouldn't have done that though but..."

"But what?"

He couldn't look me in the eye and instead seemed very interested in his fork. "I would probably do it again," he confessed before rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I-you don't understand how confusing this is for me. I'm not gay-"

I had to laugh at that and poked him with my shoe under the table so he'd finally look at me. "And neither am I. Just in this job, things happen; stress, pressure, all of it can push a man to want to take an hour to himself. Only the people around us can know what that's like so this is a...brotherhood. We comfort each other and if that involves going to their bed then, well, you go if you'd like. No strings attached. No obligations. And you can always say no."

Our food arrived at the table and the waitress quickly disappeared after setting the plates down in front of us. I finished my wine and started to eat, watching Carey properly and carefully cut and eat his lasagna. "I understand, sort of," he said softly. "But what now?"

"Well that's up to you. After all, you look like you can punch through a brick wall. I'm not pushing you."

Carey did the last thing I expected; he smiled. "I've only punched one once," he admitted. "But thank you for giving me space. I'll do my best, it's-" he stopped and chuckled. "Same thing I said to Richard. 'I'll do my best, it's all I've ever done.' Except I said it in a...completely different situation. You're different than him. The same but different."

Snickering, I reached for another piece of bread. "Sure, just rub it in," I scoffed before turning serious. "I am Richard's brother after all. We share things but I'm always going to be a bit more...I don't want to say 'passive' but 'observant' will work.

"Lazy analogy: Richard's a pretty direct hunter. He goes out as is, no safety vest, no camo, nothing. Why? Because who's going to challenge him? And as for what Richard's hunting...he knows it'll come to him. Oh sure, there might be a couple of new faces but he'll be direct, forthright before he even catches anything. You'll know he's after you."

I broke the bread stick in half and offered Carey a piece. He took it automatically, eyes never leaving my face and I toyed with my half, thinking of how to phrase what I was thinking. Considering for a moment, I leaned forward, elbows on the table so we were about ten inches apart. "Me? I'll sit and wait in a nice spot. I'll study all of you and if you decide that walking into where I am is a good idea then so be it. But chasing, the hunt...it's never been my style. But I'm just as happy and thorough as Richard when I catch something."

He didn't move, wouldn't move, like I just spotted him in the grass and the best thing to do would be to sit still and hope that they'll just walk on by. Nothing to see here. Move along. "How come you've never...you could by the rules right?" Carey managed to say, taking slow, even breaths. I wasn't in the habit of seducing anyone-I was more likely to try and hit my head on the door frame or something-but I decided that perhaps I was bringing more pressure than I intended and sat up straight.

"I could but I told you Carey, it's not my style. You're a back up now. That means no one has a right to make you play the Game. Once you start, you can elect to every game, bow out or simply throw your name in the Non-Members column. Any disputes, you can bring to Richard since he's the Game Master but like the Commissioner, his rulings are final."

"Could-I mean, can I just say I Trust only certain people? I saw that in the book Richard gave me," Carey said before hanging his head. "Crap. Can you just...forget I said that?"

"I can pretend to," I shrugged. "But yes and still be in the Non-Member's column once you reach an agreement with your Trustees. You read it correctly."

Finally taking a bite of the bread I gave him, Carey took a deep breath. "May I...have time to think about all of this, David?"

I give him an honest smile. "All the time in the world as a matter of fact."

-

I didn't push Carey even though I was unsure if my brother would have let the matter rest. I gave him a few people to call and he found a nice two bedroom house ten miles away from the stadium for him and the dog. There wasn't enough time for me to think too much about it-OTAs were starting and my main focus were the new rookies I now had to train...and torment.

Being nice, I only hid their underwear in the ceiling after I finished working out and pulled off my t-shirt on the way to the shower. I barely noticed someone out the corner of my eye and turned to see Carey fresh out the opposing team's gym. Sometimes there were benefits to sharing the same stadium. "Uh, hi?" he ventured. "I was wondering if I could, um, look at some tape with you if you have the time?"

He was trying hard, very hard not to look at me half naked and sweaty but he was failing. 'Ok, he must be seriously hard up because I'm pretty much translucent and feel like I missed gym class since High School,' I thought. I tended to be, in my opinion awkward looking at best. I had a few good features but on the whole I was an odd mix of things, pasty, lanky, and tall. People seemed to like the tall thing. That's about it. "Sure. Right now is fine?"

Pure panic. I have to say it was all very adorable. "I thought you were going to shower? I mean, you were heading that way."

"You need to shower too. But, looking at tape is exhausting work," I countered, shoving back on my shirt and asking him to follow me. "My team's room, I'm pretty sure your's is occupied."

Dutifully he followed and I hit the light outside the door that said to the rest of my team, "David @ Work: Enter at your own risk." Even Coach didn't come in unless he really needed to when that light was on and the only I remember him doing so was when my wife was in labor. When I closed the door behind us, Carey looked around in the low light. Barely a few computer screens were lit, making everything look gray, long tables and chairs that were bolted to the floor and usually full of my receivers sat empty. "I gather this isn't about film?" I said.

"No, well, one day, maybe? I'd like to see how you see stuff, how different it is from me," he asked honestly and I smiled, hitching a hip on a table.

"Of course."

"Thank you. I...thought about what we talked about. Over dinner I mean," Carey said, fidgeting. "I really-I only trust you and Richard that much. I just wanted to say that. Even though I shouldn't because this is-"

I arched an eyebrow. "Me? I haven't done much," I pointed out.

"You didn't push, only talked to me and...treated me like a normal person," he replied, sitting on the table next to me. "I haven't had that a lot recently. I don't feel like this is some sort of challenge for you. That it is what you say it is. Your brother said he wanted to help me forget and he did. You said you wanted to help me and you have. You've been honest and it's only fair that I'm honest with you."

"The truth will set you free?" I proposed and used the hem of my shirt to wipe my face. 'Careful, David,' I reminded myself. 'Careful and quiet.' "Thank you, for that trust. That is something no one can buy."

Carey looked down at his sneakers and I felt a smile come across my face. Against my better judgement, I reached over and put a finger under his chin, making him look at me. "My brother was the first to touch you, right?"

"In...that way," he managed to say. He started to reach for me but stopped, unsure. I hopped off the table and walked so I was in between his knees, tilting my head to kiss him but paused, thinking, 'This is a bad idea. David, what are you-stop this. Send the kid back to the gym or to the other film room-'

"You can tell me no, I won't be mad," I murmured. "I want you but I'd never hurt you." So much for my brain trying to talk me out of anything.

To my mild shock, he kissed me instead, gasping in surprise when I purred. My brother must have been incredibly not-Richard-like with him which didn't surprise me. He knew when to take in the claws and when to tear someone apart and most of the time I was a victim of the latter rather than the former. I was used to him and his heavy hands after seventeen years.

I moved fast-Richard may have had him in a hotel room but we were at work. I pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. "I would take my time, Carey-you deserve it," I whispered, tracing my fingers up his bicep. "All of you deserves it but I have to be quick. Maybe later I can show you exactly how I would like to treat you." I didn't even know if there would be a later; for some reason in these situation, I seemed to just open my mouth and let whatever tumble out of it.

There was a pun there. I did my best to ignore it I still smirked a bit. My brain was a sarcastic asshole.

Carey shuddered but nodded, hands reaching for my shorts. I grabbed his hand and kissed it, putting it on my hip. "No, no. Later, just like I said. You saw how my brother does things now it's my turn."

Carey started to say something but I bit his collar bone-hard-and he finally moaned, digging his nails into my side. "So loud," I chuckled, kissing the red skin. "You wouldn't want to get caught, now would you?"

"N-no..." he stammered.

"I wonder what scares you more-the wrath of God, me, Richard, or someone finding out?"

He looked guilty, blinking slowly. "Can I say all of them?" Carey asked innocently and I smiled.

"You can say anything. As a matter of fact I encourage it," I murmured against his neck. I had a, "We're all created in His image," half thought when I kissed his throat, feeling his pulse jump. He was built like a tank, more lineman than quarterback and I suppressed the idea that I could take him here and now and damn the consequences. 'Bad David, think and not with your dick. For once,' I scolded myself.

I reached down the front of the dark green shorts he wore, finding that to my surprise he wasn't wearing compression shorts. "Dangerous not to protect yourself. Especially with all of this. Or was this on purpose?"

Gasping, Carey choked on a sob. "I didn't intentionally," he replied and leaned his forehead against mine. "Breathe, trust him, bless me." It came out a whisper and I knew he was praying for himself and for me. I just touched the side of his face and kissed him, quietly, carefully, attempting to say, "Trust me. Don't be scared," without words.

I pulled Carey's erection free, stroking him experimentally and I felt the rest of him tense up, a small whimper betraying his neediness and fear. "Should I stop?" I asked, freezing in place.

"No! I mean-" he looked at me wide eyed, searching for something, anything to anchor him. 'Richard must have just straight bulldozed him, grabbed him and didn't let go,' I realized taking a deep breath. 'Alright David, remember, slow and steady.'

"You invoked Trust. That means I have to Trust you back," I assured him. "So relax and let me know when to stop, ok?"

"I-I can do that." Carey needed to stop thinking and stop thinking soon or else he was going to never going to climax and I was going to go insane. I moved my hand slightly faster, finally getting a groan that was more lust than guilt. He reached out with both hands, timidly sliding his fingertips under my shirt before toying with the waistband of my shorts. Maybe he did have an idea of what he was doing and he pulsed in my hand when I moaned, his body at least liking the fact that he could give me some pleasure even if his brain hadn't caught up yet.

Carey put his head on my shoulder, his breath searing hot and I ran my free hand through his short dark hair. Whatever he wanted from me, he was fighting it every step of the way but every man had his limits. And despite his control, our altar boy was quickly approaching his. I felt Carey's body go limp and then tense, doing his best to stop any sound by biting his lip until it bled. It didn't work-he made an almost pained noise as he came in the palm of my hand, his nails digging into the skin of my hips, finally letting a low groan out that while audible, I didn't chastise him for.