Evening with El Diablo

Parallels with real life folks, entertainment purposes only.

*****************

I stayed at my brother's place for a few days to play with my niece and just in general be brotherly. You know, minus the sex but that was only a minor technicality. I let Carey know I was going to stay in New Jersey until Thursday so imagine my lack of surprise when my phone got a text message at 3am on Wednesday.

'Richard, you're still here, right?' I had reached over, bleary eyed to grab the phone, my playbook falling to the side and on the floor. Falling asleep while reading seemed to be a habit I couldn't shake, even though my wife always gave me a glare that could melt steel when she woke up with a binder in her ass crack.

That's as good of place as any I figured. I typed carefully on my phone, still mostly unconscious. 'Yes. Need anything?'

It was a few minutes and I almost fell back asleep before my phone beeped again. 'Could you come visit?' Carey asked, followed by an address. His house. Hmm. This could get interesting indeed.

'Nine AM,' I typed simply, rolling back over. Ashley made a noise but I just draped an arm across her waist and pulled her close. I wasn't going to wait for a response because I didn't need to. Even if his coach requested him at practice, I knew he'd make up an excuse. I wasn't to be ignored. Carey knew that.

My only question: What exactly did he want?

-

I toweled off my hair, staring at myself in the mirror. "What are you doing, Carey?" I said out loud, resigned. The absolute last thing I should've done was ask him to come here. I hadn't slept for a few days, the bags under my eyes standing out more than usual, my eyes themselves blood shot. And it was all because I didn't know what to do.

I knew what I should do. Tell them that this Game was over. Turn my back on all of this and just chalk it up to a moment where my faith faltered and faltered mightily.

Problem was, my faith didn't just falter-it was shaken. Unsure. It was intact enough to make me question what I was doing but not so solid to refuse or forget. That was the core of the problem. The day when I just went willingly with no questions asked, no hesitation, I knew I had to stop. Then I was lost. Completely and utterly lost. I didn't think spiritually I could accept that.

Though when the doorbell rung, I was unsure if I had failed already.

-

When Carey opened the door, he looked like hell...if one would pardon the description. "You haven't been sleeping," I surmised as he invited me in, shutting the door quietly behind me.

"No, not really. But it's been enough," he assured me, looking down. "I didn't mean to wake you up last night, I just..."

"Needed to say what you wanted to before you lost your nerve," I filled in the blank. Carey winced and I smirked, eyeing his dark blue basketball shorts and worn through tank top I'm pretty sure he'd had since his time at university. "I was born but not born yesterday."

His face turned to steel for a moment, intense and slightly angry. "I never said that," he said hotly before taking a deep breath, looking away. "Why-how do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Make me...do things I don't normally do," Carey whispered shakily, walking past me to put his hands on the kitchen counter. He stared off into space, searching for something I knew he wasn't going to find. "You can make me angry, make me forget everything I was ever taught, make me want things that I...I never thought I'd do."

I understood then he saw me as a test of his faith and that he was losing to it. To me. Terribly. "You can tell me no," I reminded him and he laughed, shaking his head sadly.

"That's the problem. I don't want to," he admitted softly. "I guess-I do but I don't. It's not something I expect you to understand. It's something I can't really explain."

Coming closer and hitching a hip on a bar stool next to him, I put my chin on my fist. "You act like I didn't grow up a Christian," I reminded him. "Or that I still have faith in something out there. I hope I haven't been too pushy."

Carey nodded solemnly. "You haven't," he replied. "I mean, I just...never really thought it would be like this. I don't know. That's a lot to take in. All of this is a lot to take in."

I patted him on the shoulder, silently amused when he didn't jump. 'Faced your demon and now you aren't afraid. Now my only question is: what do you do now?' I thought. "Don't try to all at once," I advised him out loud. "It'll make you crazy. Thank you, honestly, for talking to me. I am a bit...well we'll go with 'snarky' as far as personality but I always am ready to listen."

"Thank you as well. But confessing my misgivings is not why I asked you to come."

I arched an eyebrow. Full of surprises, aren't you Carey? "Oh?"

"When I said last week that I..." Carey picked at his fingernails unconsciously, shy, and I waited patiently for him to speak. "That I wanted to touch you, that I just didn't know how-I-I meant it. I don't know if I am capable of being as...good as you and David but-"

Well. "We all start somewhere," I said, attempting to ease his fears and I put a finger under his chin, making him look at me. "But I'm not having sex with you."

Carey looked hurt. "Why?"

"Because you're not ready for that yet," I reminded him as much as I was reminding myself. "When it comes to this, I know you better than you know yourself. Not now. Not for some time."

"How will you know? How will I know?"

"You'll beg for me. And mean it," I rumbled, pulling my hand away. "I know what that sounds like. It sounds needy but sure. Aroused but full of conviction, no hesitation, no clouding of head space. It's the most beautiful sound a man could make."

Standing, I turned away but stopped when Carey tugged on the hem of my t-shirt, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. "Something else to add?"

Instead of answering, he slid his hands under the fabric and up my back, whispering into my spine, "Lord, find it in your heart to forgive a weak child; a child that knows what he does and can't help himself."

"From what I've seen, He always forgives, right?" I whispered back but stood still, letting him explore when I took off my own shirt. There is no way in hell I'd be as ripped as he was-he was twenty four, I was pushing thirty seven. I'd always be lanky, tall, slightly broad, a bit defined but that was it. When he slid his hands around my sides to touch my stomach, I let out a sigh, Carey flinching slightly.

"Am I doing this wrong?" he asked, hesitant, probably mistaking it for a sigh of exasperation. I smirked and looked down at my growing erection before glancing over my shoulder again.

"Parts of my anatomy say you are doing great," I remarked, eyes slowly closing when he kissed the surgical scars I still had on my neck. 'You've got a bit more instinct then you think, Carey,' I realized, gripping the counter with one hand.

I couldn't afford to be "Richard" here-I could maybe be "Richard Light" but if I grabbed any of my normal intensity, I would scare the ever living shit out of Carey. Instead I opted to show him just how much I appreciated his attention and turned, asking for a kiss that he gave readily. "Do you mind if you stand?" he asked and I pulled him closer, our erections coming into contact.

"You have always been quite the gentleman. I don't mind at all," I said quietly. I tugged at his shorts and he gave the tiniest whine, trembling.

"Richard, I still can't...focus if you do...that. Lord have mercy," Carey breathed, pulling at my shorts, completely frantic. I knew he was trying to hold on to some sense of control and I knew that at any point I could steal it. In a way, though his mission was to bring me to orgasm and not himself, I was still running the show. I let go of his shorts and just settled on removing his shirt, the tip of his tongue licking his throat.

"Well you're pardon my eagerness with all of this right in front of me," I apologized and put both hands flat on the counter-top behind me, leaning back. "But what is it that you want from me?" Carey started to answer but I put a finger on his lips. "Wait. Don't answer that. Just take it. Show me."

He blinked but nodded, kissing my chest, fingertips trailing lightly across my nipples before journeying lower. When he started to unbutton my khakis I sucked in a breath, finally groaning when he grabbed me through my boxers. 'Isn't our little pastor a tease?' I thought and watched as Carey pulled me free, grip a little unsure but firm. "This is ok, right?" he asked innocently.

I didn't answer at first, just grabbed the back of his head and kissed him like I meant it. No niceties, no being careful, just pure un-distilled lust. A growl, a real one, rumbled in my chest and I had the image of Carey laying under me, fighting me, saying he doesn't want this but he does and finally letting go...

Panting heavily I pulled back, knowing from the pressure on my thigh that he was rock hard. "More than ok," I replied, pulling down his gym shorts, most of my restraint gone. "But I want to feel you too." I put Carey's erection next to mine, guiding both his hands to wrap around them and squeeze gently. "Move me. And you."

Mouth hanging open in shock, he did what I asked and I could feel him pulse as he did so. Carey's eyes were glazed over, trying to suck in as much air as possible and failing. "I...gosh that feels amazing," he managed and I had to agree, swearing when he sped up.

There was always the potential to make things more interesting and despite the fact my orgasm was creeping across my shoulders and up my neck, ready to finally force me to let go, I was thinking, searching for something. I looked behind me briefly and saw a bottle of olive oil, unscrewed it and poured it over his hands, hearing Carey shout in surprise. "No! I'll-too soon-" he gasped, shaking his head frantically. His chest heaved in the effort to keep calm but he was failing, just like I was.

"I'm not fucking super-human!" I snapped, setting the bottle back on the counter and gripping his bicep hard enough that I knew he'd bruise and bruise mightily. "I'm close. Finish!" I didn't mean to take his head off but if there's one thing I hated was being made to wait for anything which "anything" included orgasms. So much for "Richard Light".

Carey froze, staring shocked at me before he came, white angry streams covering my stomach and thighs. His hands clamped tight enough to hurt but I enjoyed a little pain. What could I say? I didn't do anything that I couldn't take myself. I let go of his arm before I caused more damage and shouted wordlessly, arching my back and climaxing hard on his hip and thigh. My vision was a little blurry but I still reached down and dipped my fingers in the olive oil-come mixture and touched it to his lips, Carey licking out of sheer instinct.

"Apologies for the harshness, Carey. I forgot you are left handed," I said, panting and gave him a light kiss, one that he returned. When he pulled away, he wiped his hands on his thigh, smearing white and smiling, a bit high. At least he wasn't passed out on the floor. Progress.

"Felt good. Oh wow..." he mumbled. "This stuff gets everywhere. You're so calm. Wish I could be. Wish a lot of things."

I laughed, wiping sweat, oil and other things across my chest, something he readily focused on. I might have created a monster. "You didn't make any noise and I bawled like a buffalo during mating season. We both need a shower because I smell like sex and the Olive Garden. Suggestions?"

Carey blinked and I realized I was trying to make him think complex thoughts. Not something I should be doing. I doubt he could recite his social security number and address right now. "Uh, I have two," he explained. "First door on the right or the one in my bedroom."

"I'll take the guest one. And Carey?"

"Yeah?"

I smiled. "Thank you. Now go get cleaned up. Me and you are going to have throwing practice."