Evening with El Diablo Ch. 05

What I told Richard was right-I didn't feel that way for Carey. I didn't love him like a partner but I did love him like a littler brother. A little brother that I slept with on occasion but I couldn't talk since my own big brother and I had had sex more times than I could count since I was fifteen. In retrospect I was surprised he waited that long but I guess he wanted me to see what women were like before he did anything. 'Which is more restraint that I ever would've expected out of him,' I thought, grinning.

I was in the upstairs room, spotted blue tie dangling around my neck and the top buttons of my shirt undone, pinstripe blazer tossed over the back of one of the couches. I had left early because I just didn't feel like partying, not because I didn't win anything as some people might have guessed. Occasionally I was a loner and my wife understood that better than anyone. She just kissed me good night and smiled, messing up my hair. "Tell Landon next time that I'll dress him. That shirt was awful," she grinned.

I smiled back, giving Abby a parting swat on the butt as she walked out. "I'll let him know. Love you."

"Love you too. If Richard comes over, tell him I need you healthy. I haven't gotten laid in two days."

Yeah, I think I married a good one.

I got up, grabbed a beer and fell on the couch. The noise and cameras and walking the red carpet-I didn't understand how movie stars did it. When I asked an actress, she just laughed and said, "You get used to it." Doubtful I ever would but I only had to do it once a year, thank God.

The air condition clicked on and I let out a slow breath, relieved for a chance at peace and quiet which I got for about an half hour before I heard the door open. After thirty years or so, I could tell my brother's footsteps and Richard was upstairs in no time, striding in as confident as ever. Things like award shows didn't bother him like it did me; he could work a crowd like it was nothing but my deadpan sense of humor has gotten me in trouble more than once where as his dry humor and great comedic timing earned him chuckles.

We both decided to wear pinstripes-independently I might add-but his were white and mine were gray, his suit black and mine a navy blue. Richard represented his loyalty to his new professional team and his Alma Mater by wearing a bright orange tie, something I know I could never pull off. I'd look ridiculous. "David, you broke camp early," he smiled. "Too much?"

"You know me, it's not really my scene. Plus my back, general aches and pains from standing up so much without game adrenaline," I shrugged, pointing to the fridge with the half empty beer bottle. "More in there."

Richard laughed, grabbing one and just un-buttoning his jacket to sit. "I still say you need to go to the doctor. You read my mind though, more than once. What's with the suit?" he said, touching the cold bottle to my ear.

I jumped before mock glaring at him. "I will, I will. At least I didn't wear a day-glo tie," I countered and finished off the rest of my beer. I realized that I polished off a beer in a half an hour which wasn't like me at all. 'Guess I'm more stressed than I thought...'

"It's supposedly "in" though gray suits seam to be "in" instead. I guess we missed the memo," Richard replied thoughtfully, unscrewing the top and taking a long swallow. "Still all joking aside, you and Abby looked good even if you were being a cheap ass and didn't buy a new suit."

"Hey, these things are expensive."

"A thousand bucks isn't going to kill you to look even better than you do."

I started to make a comment about whoring myself out when the doorbell rang. "Carey?" he asked and I shrugged, standing.

"Don't know. I'll be back-"

Richard stopped me with a hand on my elbow and stood as well. "I got it, probably wife looking for me because I forgot my watch; might have left it on the plane. I've been looking for it," he said, walking past. "You've earned a rest."

All I could do was shrug and sit down. I wasn't going to object-I loved his wife but the less people I had to deal with tonight, the better. Closing my eyes, I felt calm, comfortable until I heard two pairs of feet coming up the stairs. I knew one was Richard's but the other wasn't as heavy as Carey's. They sounded forced, dragging even and when Richard appeared, his face wasn't the calm, happy Richard he was when he left. No, this was all business Richard and I found out why once the other person appeared.

"What do you want, Edward?" I asked, swallowing. I knew what I did to him was out of character but I couldn't help it. The bruise still was stark on his face, black stitches barely visible from the outside; I guess my punch split the inside of his lip and not the outside so he wouldn't scar his super model face. For once we were dressed better, the two of us in suits and him in just a t-shirt and cargo shorts. Edward's hair was down, loose and messy as if he rolled out of bed and decided to come over and he hid behind it a bit, only one slightly defiant hazel eye visible.

"I needed to talk to Richard. This was the only place I could think to find him," he admitted. "If I could talk to him alone-"

"You're in no position, of any kind, to ask any favors," Richard reminded him and I knew that voice. 'Edward, sleeping dragon. Bad idea,' I thought, feeling almost sorry for him. My brother was a dominate in that he displayed it in private but only rarely. It was evident in his personality-very high strung even off the field-but it wasn't something he practiced all the time.

"I'm sorry," he replied, barely above a whisper and I raised an eyebrow. That was...unexpected. And judging by the look on Richard's face, he hadn't expected it either.

In response, he circled Edward, eyeing him and sizing him up. It wasn't an, "I want your body" look, it was a, "What exactly am I supposed to do with you?" look. "Sorry isn't in your vocabulary, Edward," Richard pointed out and he looked away, chuckling softly.

"You know, you call me 'Edward' but no one else in my life does," Edward said as if attempting to delay the inevitable. "Why do you do that? Why not 'Ed'?"

Richard crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his biceps. "Because I consider it a sign of respect," he explained. "Still you're here, apologizing. For what?"

"I...I acted out of line. I left here and after I got stitched up I sat and thought some," Edward said, looking briefly at me before down at the light brown carpet. "That fucking kid-sorry, Carey-he was right, ok? Yeah I tried to bait you. It was wrong, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry to the both of you."

I frowned, thinking all of this could be a trap but Richard turned to walk away and raised an eyebrow that said, "He's serious." Even with that, the only thing I believed less was that I was an alien and even then I did look a bit goofy. "Carey's worth apologizing to as well. And anyone and everyone else you've hurt so far," I pointed out and he still looked at the ground but nodded.

"There's a lot of phone calls to make," Edward admitted. "Not a lot can be made up but what else am I supposed to do? It happened, I can't change the past."

Richard finally stopped and grabbed his beer, taking a swallow. "No, you can't. This is quite a one eighty Edward," my brother pointed out and buttoned his blazer. I knew why-it made him look more intimidating, less relaxed and casual. His suit was loose but tailored perfectly and I'd be lying if I didn't say he wore it well. "This is a new you, one that does things the old Edward Collins would not. What else will this new you do?"

There was a pause, the space of five or six heart beats before Edward went to his knees, hair hiding his face entirely. "You know what I...you're going to make me beg aren't you? Just like you said. I knew you would even though I hoped you wouldn't-maybe leave me with a little bit of dignity but you think I don't deserve it, not after what I've done I guess," he whispered sadly.

The change on Richard's face was slow but unmistakable. It was his game day face, his, "I'm going to work" face and I held my breath. 'Edward, do you even know what you're asking? Oh good Lord...'

"Richard, you don't have to do this," I said softly, able to read the slight reluctance in his posture. He swirled the last of his beer before finishing it off, looking off into the distance.

"No David, I do. Because otherwise he's not going to understand what I can do, never going to truly respect me. Most do in the league; they know what I'm capable of but don't wield. It's a knife I don't draw because I don't like to. He doesn't understand any of that," he said just as quietly, a bit of remorse crossing his features.

"You don't have to stay-you've never seen me do this. I had hoped you never would. I won't hurt him permanently but he'll remember it for the rest of his life." He gave me a weak smile and mussed up my hair. "Big brother has just as much of a dark side as you do. Just afterwards...I'm going to need some time, maybe someone to talk to. This'll be...more intense than anything I've ever done in awhile."

I took his hand from my head and squeezed it. "You're my brother, I love you. I'm not going anywhere if you need me here," I assured him.

He gave me a final nod before taking a slow breath and turning around again to face Edward. "You might be the one person in my adult life that I do not like. Not in the least. You had not one redeeming factor to you before this, before finally-maybe-being honestly sorry for how much of a horse's ass you've been for over ten years. You've hurt and abused more quarterbacks than you or they will probably ever admit," Richard said, voice harsh but didn't move from his spot. "And now you ask me to control you again?"

Edward didn't look up and I watched Richard's shoulders tense from behind. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. Answer me, damnit! I deserve at least that if nothing else!" he snapped and the other man raised his head.

"Yes," he ground out, fidgety, wanting to look away but the barked order was keeping him from doing so. "Last time was just something I can't get back. I've tried and just can't fucking find it. I just want to shut off, not think for the first time in two decades, please? I'm...I guess I'm begging you."

Richard reached and pulled his wallet and keys out of his pockets smoothly, Edward completely focused on him. I could practically hear my brother thinking, his eyes narrowed in concentration and was probably unaware that Edward followed his fingers touching the leather of his wallet with a bit on longing. "With that admission, fine, I'll do this and I will do my best," he said, sounding almost bored, detached. He'd put himself somewhere else for his benefit and I bit my lip, worried.

"I am not here for me. From this moment until this ends, I have no special designation-"Richard" is fine. You are my property until one to both of us ends the scene. You can end the scene by using your safe word. They should be things that you can remember and not "no" or "don't do that" otherwise I won't know. If you can't think of anything, 'yellow' is often used as a slow word, and 'red' as a safe word."

I could see more and more of Edward dissolving into head space. It was a wonderful place to be but a place I never really liked being in for long; I was too much of a control freak to endure it for more than a few minutes and probably unable to do anything like this. 'At least I know my limits?' I reasoned, shrugging slightly.

"Yellow and red are fine," the other quarterback agreed, moving to push his hair out of his face but stopping when Richard shook his head. The order was simple and unspoken: don't move until I say so. His hand fell back into his lap but he didn't look away.

"How far are you willing to go?"

"As far as you want, Richard," Edward swallowed. All three of us knew what that meant and Richard nodded once. Edward was already adding his name to every statement he made. That pretty much meant the lights were on but no one was home or if they were, they were passed out in front of the TV.

My brother stopped pacing and stood in front of him, posture relaxed but close enough to reach down and pat him on the head. The position made Edward tilt his head all the way back to look up at him, more than likely intentionally. "Then you've given yourself over to me for tonight. I'm going to take you over because you asked me to. You have your slow word and your safe word. Don't think that I will not be mad at you if you use them; they are there for you and your comfort. To start, stand and strip to show me how far you're willing to submit."

He stepped back slightly. "Every piece is something I'm taking from you. I'll obviously give them back later. Be neat about it. You're not a slob."

Edward stood and pulled off his t-shirt and turned it right side out, folding it carefully and laying it on the back of the recliner. Next came the cargo shorts, the Calvin Klein boxer briefs, the surprisingly simple white socks stuffed gingerly into Underarmour track shoes. His body was even more lanky than either of our's-athletic, yes but more like a swimmer, muscles long, lean, and tan. Edward had almost no fat and I felt a little jealous before realizing eating Spaghetti-Os every morning, a bag of Oreos every two days, and not being a teenager anymore might have something to do with why I had a flat stomach but not defined abs any more.

He started to wring his hands but dropped them to his sides, still staring at Richard for something-approval, disgust, anything. He just couldn't look away because he wasn't ordered to and Richard walked around him, slowly, appraising him like he was on the auction block.

"You keep in shape well, Edward," Richard said almost to himself. "Explains why women are knocking down doors to get to you. But they're not here, are they?"

The response was immediate. "No, Richard."

"I'm here," he continued, his voice lower but not softer. "Just little ol' me. Just me and a naked, vulnerable, Edward and my baby brother here to witness his archenemy taken down just a step further. Are you scared, Edward?"

"I-yes, Richard," he stammered but I knew he wasn't completely scared because he went from half hard to almost completely hard on words alone, a fine shiver making his hands tremble.

My brother smiled, just barely. "Good. You should be. Kneel," he ordered. "Hands behind your back. Knees apart." Edward fell to his knees quickly and went to the position Richard ordered awkwardly; more than likely he'd never knelt voluntarily before but his back was straight, face still upturned to see if he made him happy.

"David requires you to stand when he overpowers you but I only require you to kneel. More comfortable?" Richard chuckled before waving his hand dismissively. "Don't answer that. Movie quote." Instead of elaborating, he squatted in front of a kneeling Edward and moving his hair out of his face, tucking it behind each ear. "How do you feel?"

"Naked. Helpless. Humiliated," he answered, unable to lie.

"And you like it."

"Yes, Richard."

Richard put a finger under his chin, probably the first affectionate touch he'd ever given the other man and nodded in understanding. "You're doing very good," Richard assured him. "Better than most."

Even in this state, a quarterback's pride never went completely away. "I'm better than most, Richard," Edward said, eyes almost defiant but a glare from Richard held it in check.

"That remains to be seen," he rumbled and stood, walking over to a chest of drawers I kept in the corner. The first three were full of clothes to change into-after all, fucking was hard work and they were of various sizes and even some of Abby's were in there too-but the bottom two were toys, things that either I found online and thought were interesting, things my wife found or things that were given as presents, Tributes as we called them, if they felt that they just couldn't uphold their side of the Bet they made.

I was nice, some said too nice; if it was a new guy or someone who I had beaten particularly badly, I'd just demand Tribute. Since I couldn't demand money due to league rules, I opted for things. I've gotten liquor, sex toys, even a kitten for my kid.

"I thought about blindfolding you," Richard said, his back still turned as he held up a few objects in plain view so Edward could see them. A vibrator, various dildos of every size, shape and color, a butt plug, a gag-all of these he held up, made a show of examining before shaking his head and putting them back. Edward could see all of this and he let out a whimper, one I was pretty sure he didn't realize he had let be heard. "But I want to see the look on your face. Pure. Raw. Fear.

"I don't get off on fear, Edward. Don't think that for a second. I get off on power. Power is what we all want. It's what all people with our job need to have." Richard finally settled on some pink bondage tape, a gag, and a leather belt strap, shutting the door carefully and striding back to Edward who still knelt.

"We stand at the line and demand the play we want. And we've been around enough that we are not to be questioned. It's intoxicating. It's like a drug. It's why I went to Denver and not Miami or anywhere else-I could do what I wanted there, no questions asked," he explained and took the paddle and stroked his cheek with it. "But right now, you're my second string punter. You better be glad to be here. Are you where you want to be, Edward?"

The other quarterback nodded, the end of his erection dripping in a long line to the floor and he swallowed quickly. "Yes, Richard. Here. No where else."

My brother gestured almost nonchalantly at the couch and said simply, "Bend over. Support yourself on the sofa. Hands behind your back." Edward moved quickly, not at all gracefully like he would if he was paying attention but almost frantically. With his wrists crossed, Richard forced his arms higher until the forearms were parallel and started to wrap them slowly and carefully, taking his time so Edward could realize what was happening. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, Richard." I admired the tape job he'd done; minimal amount of tape and yet I could tell Edward flexed and it did not give. The stuff was durable, I'll give it that much.

The gag was next and Richard said simply, "Open your mouth. I'm not having you wake up my sister-in-law and niece." Edward obeyed and my brother was surprisingly gentle in inserting the red ball and buckling it around his head, making sure it wasn't too tight and didn't catch his hair. "Nod if you're fine."

He nodded once and Richard slapped the paddle against his hand, the *thwak* making both Edward and I jump. "I'd make you thank me after each one but I'd rather hear you try to wail. Besides, that's so damn cheesy," he sighed dramatically and started off with something I figured was a medium strength swing. It still rang out just as loudly and Edward let out a muffled, shocked cry.

"I don't have to tell you that coming before I say will make me very...displeased." It sounded like a dire threat, one that rumbled like a distant but destructive storm and carried the promise of unrestrained physical violence. The other man nodded quickly, trying to convey he understood.

Each swing started off detached, mechanical until about the tenth one where Richard's eyes filled with a fury I hadn't seen since his championship lost and that was directed to himself and the interception he threw that broke his team's back. This rage was pointed at the now wailing quarterback and after the thirty first strike he stopped and took a deep breath, looking at his work. Richard did his job and did it well-Edward's rear end and upper thighs were uniformly pink, every strike barely landing in the same place twice. The other man himself was wailing and yet his erection was as stiff as ever, pre-cum flowing faster but he was doing his best not to climax by taking deep breaths through his nose.