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“Oh, yes,” Rev answers. “We’ll all get a reward, son.”
“Hallelujah,” Scrap breathes, and I know he’s as lost to lust as I am.
I’m tempted to ask what Rev wants me to do, but I make myself be patient. I don’t want to interrupt the Reverend if he’s not done with his sermon. When he wants me to act, he’ll tell me. Being careful not to snap the reins holding me, I listen, and I wait.
“Are you ready to begin, boys?”
Definitely. “Yes, Reverend,” Scrap and I say, and our voices are quiet and respectful, like we’re in a religious sanctuary. I can’t help feeling like Rev’s Working is all around us, leading us in this exercise. I want to show the Working that I can handle the Gift it gave me. I want to prove it to myself, too, so I can be with Cora again.
“Then let’s begin.” Rev takes up position behind Scrap, and he draws the younger man’s arms behind his back.
Scrap’s head leans back on Rev’s shoulder, so trusting. His torso is a feast for my hungry gaze. His abs ripple with his every movement. Silver hoops gleam from his nipples. His throat is a column of sinew and muscle. I want to lick it. But I lock down that desire before I can do anything to Scrap without Rev’s permission.
“The other night,” Rev says to me. “When the three of us hung out behind the shop, was that your first time giving head?” He must be holding Scrap’s arms back with one hand, because with his other, he caresses those firm abs.
I nod. “Yes, Reverend.”
A breath shudders out of Scrap when Rev’s fingers sneak up to flick a nipple ring.
“How did he do, Scrappy boy? Did your brother suck you good?”
Scrap’s nod is discombobulated. He swallows. “Yes, Sir.”
“Mmmm.”Rev nuzzles the side of Scrap’s head, rubbing his cheek and lips over the place where Scrap keeps his hair buzzed short to enhance his bleached fauxhawk. “I wonder what it would feel like to have your dick caressed by your brother’s Gift.”
Scrap’s throat moves with a swallow. Nerves or excitement? If he’s feeling what I am, it’s probably a little of both. Getting to make this sexy, spirited man come is a sensual high I look forward to, but using my Gift on his dick lights up a warning sensor in my brain.Danger! Danger! Danger!
“Brawn.” Rev’s tone is commanding. “Using just your Gift, pop that button on Scrap’s jeans.”
It’s my turn to swallow. I can do this. I can be careful. Earlier, I accidentally shoved Scrap against a stall door. It’s time for me to make it up to him.
“Yes, Reverend.”
Concentrating like I haven’t concentrated since high school trigonometry class, I hone in on the waistband of Scrap’s jeans. When I widened that charred helicopter opening, I did it by picturing myself doing it with my hands. I do the same thing now. I use my mind to conjure an image of myself kneeling in front of Scrap. My imaginary hands reach out in front of me and take hold of the rectangle of faded denim. Carefully, gently, they twist just the right way to ease the top edge of the brass button through the hole.
And in real life, Scrap’s button releases itself. Scrap looks down his body as the denim moves on its own, and his eyes close on a whispered curse.
“Fuuuck.Barely felt that,” he says, and he has this look on his face like he’s experiencing that shivery awareness you get when someone you like touches you. I felt that way when Rev stripped me of my shirt. I’m glad I can give him that after being rough with him earlier. I’ll give him a lot more if Rev lets me.
“Very good, Brawny boy.” Rev’s praise makes my chest swell with pride. “Now the zipper.”
I do the zipper the same way, slow, gentle, concentration laser focused. Scrap’s jeans part in aV,and his package juts out, a long, hard rod trying to poke a hole through black boxer-brief cotton.
“Now push everything down his legs so he’s bare assed for us.”
I lick my lips. The jeans are easy. There’s no resistance as I nudge them into a puddle around Scrap’s sneakers. But the snug briefs are tricker. This is no button or zipper. This is a lifting of elastic waistband around a sensitive cockhead, then a scraping of fitted fabric over glutes like big apples and muscled thighs. But I focus on how I would do it with my hands, and soon, Scrap’s underwear joins his jeans, and his dick hugs tight to his lower abdomen, leaning a little to the right.
Wow. I did that. I undressed Scrap with my mind. And I did it without hurting him. I did it on command. I didn’t lose control and rudely strip him simply because I like seeing him naked. I controlled myself. This is a good start. I just need to keep this up.
“Wonderful, Brawny boy.” Rev strokes over Scrap’s stomach and hips but he never touches the rod that has to be aching for attention. “Now, suck him with your Gift. Give your brother something nice to make up for that shove earlier.”
“Yes, Reverend.” Yes. I want to. I want to give Scrap something nice. He’s been patient with me. I’ve yanked down his pants and shoved him around, and he takes it. He just takes it, like we’re actual brothers that roughhouse and cause each other grief, but we know deep down, there’s affection between us.
It’s easy to imagine kneeling in front of Scrap, because I did it for real a couple nights ago. This time, though, Rev doesn’t control my every movement. He’s quiet. Maybe giving me the freedom to work out the logistics of this act for myself.
I’m going to make him proud.
I use my imaginary hands first to lower Scrap’s flagpole, and in the real world, his dick eases into a nice ninety-degree angle from his body. Mentally holding it like that, I use my big hands to caress all over his pelvis and that glorious shaft.
