Complete

I don't think I can move.

No, I seriously don't.

My body's plastered against Justin's, probably making it impossible for him to breathe, but I just can't seem to do anything about it.

Not that he's complaining.

I snort…because this fucking kid could be gasping for air, the full weight of my body keeping his lungs and all other necessary bodily functions from working right and if he were asked if he's alright, he'd probably still say, 'No…no…I'm good.'

And the funny thing is…I'd believe him.

But the truth is that I don't want to move. Because although I feel my cock softening and each little aftershock-spasm of Justin's ass keeps trying to force it out, I know that the slightest movement will actually cause my dick to slide out of him…and I just don't want that to happen.

Right now…at this very moment…still buried deep inside of my lover's ass is where I wanna be.

I'm happy…and satisfied and…complete.

I feel fucking complete.

And I know that it's really just some breeder word that Jerry Macquire coined, setting the whole fad-like use of it in motion. But right now…it's how I feel.

God, I think I should definitely limit the amount of time I spend with Emmett and the munchers, because they must be rubbing off on me.

Drawing in a deep, somewhat stuttered breath I exhale and Justin shivers beneath me as the sudden warmth rushes against his damp skin. I like the result, so I do it again, with the same desired effects.

"Brian," I hear him whisper…and I'm not sure if it's an admonishment or praise or just because he likes the sound of my name.

I feel him shift slightly and I can't help the unhappy groan that escapes before I have time to get it under control as my dick slips out of him.

Summoning all the strength I have left in my entire body I lift my head and look down at Justin. And although he's trying his best not to smile, a little smug and satisfied one tugs at the corners of his mouth in reaction to the unexpected sound that just flew from my lips.

I snort as his eyes meet mine to let him know that he's not doing a very good job of hiding his pleasure.

So I have to decide. Should I let it go and let him have his moment…or do I come back at him with some lame-assed excuse of just what the groan was about?

And that's when I decide to say nothing and let him think that he's won. Because the truth is…we've both won.

He's here beneath me…and I'm above him…so really, either way, we can't lose.

I hear Justin gasp, trying to take a breath in and know that THAT'S my signal to move. Not that he'd ever tell me to. God, sometimes he slays me. I smile and he smiles back and I have to lean down and press my lips against his just one more time.

When I roll off of him, landing with a heavy thump beside him, I hear him try again, this time the intake of air is long and sturdy and I don't miss the little sigh of relief that comes along with it. I shake my head and tug off the condom.

I swear, he's gonna be the death of me.

But I can't think of a better way to go.

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