Whatever It Takes {MxM} *COMPLETE*

{10} - Can't Stop

The moment when you look at someone and know that they were made especially for you and only you and the thought of anyone else having and holding what you gaze upon, would most likely kill you.

The moment when your resistance is tested and you don't know whether you will make the wrong choice and muck it all up or turn around and walk away, knowing, even as you walked away, that you did what was right. That, in taking things slow, you are therefore cementing a lasting relationship based on respect and honor.

But then...

There is also the moment where right and wrong unite to become something you can never really fight. Something primitive, alluring and tangible. It calls you forth and whispers promises of ecstasy in your ear you are powerless to ignore.

It congeals and merges to become a clear picture and all you can do is stare at it in disbelief and wonder if you're only dreaming or if you lost it and your imagination took flight, thereby conjuring up the vision you can now see before your eyes.

Rafe gripped himself harder, his eyes bulging, his mouth falling open, his throbbing length leaking copiously. He was frozen in place, shocked beyond belief and torn between placing more distance between them or taking the few steps separating them and pressing his raging body to Andre's writhing one.

Gulping loudly, he closed his eyes against the vision of his little angel gripping his overly large appendage. Holy sweet goodness! The man was horrendously endowed for one so small and fragile. But that wasn't really what had him so worked up.

"Andre...please stop doing that." He swallowed hard and hung his head even as he squeezed himself for comfort but it was as if his own touch was like a thousand electrifying needles to his senses and he grit his teeth in agony as he felt himself grow even larger beneath his hand. "You're...you're not ready yet. I'm trying to give you time to heal. Please don't do this to me."

"I feel it Rafe." Came the breathless whisper, the small whimper, the long hoarse moan. "I'm so c-close."

Dammit, he was trying to kill him!

His eyes flew open as a breathy cry rent the air, sending his hackles into haywire static shock and it was all Rafe could do not to throw himself upon the smaller man and impale him on his stiffened member when he saw his hips rise off the bed and liquid began spurting from the beautiful sculpture he caressed so roughly as he moved his body to the rhythm of his hand.

"Good God!" he shouted as he pressed the heel of his hand to his crotch, his eyes glued to the slow trickle of liquid running down the impressive shaft and of their own volition, his feet took life and moved him closer and closer to the man that had his heart beating his poor ribs to death.

He didn't remember the moment he pressed the controls on the bed and brought Andre's body to a level with his own or when he shifted him and placed the pillow beneath his quivering hips. And no matter how many times he would ask himself in the future exactly at what point he had knelt in front of those spread thighs and slid those boxers down those sexy legs, he would never be able to answer with a coherent word.

It was as if he had been taken over by something powerful and unknown, something primitive, wild, something unexplainable yet so hard to resist. He was falling into an abyss of pleasure the likes of which could swallow him whole but he welcomed it, pleaded for it, for it was the only thing that felt right...the only thing that would do.

Parting Andre's thighs, he spread them wide and looked his fill, his tongue coming forth to wet suddenly dry and thirsty lips. Sweat beaded his brow in his eager anticipation and his body trembled with his restraint.