All Parts of Him Ch. 01

*** AUTHOR'S NOTE - Some scenes may be triggering or upsetting. All characters are over 18. ***

There he was, the angel with the golden hair, submitting to a man he hardly knew. Though he had recently celebrated his 20th year, his silky skin and boyish features lingered, a picture of young masculinity. Steven lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, his eyes rolling with his moans of ecstasy. The bed sheets were disheveled and unmade, his phone blasted music from its perch at the edge of a run-down computer desk covered in stickers. From between his legs, the head of an older man bobbed up and down clumsily.

The eyes could see that the man had a large tattoo on his back, partially obscured by the door. And then the eyes turned back to Steven, watching him bite his lower lip and furrow his brow...the look one wears when their cock is being handled too roughly but the pleasure overrides the discomfort. They couldn't hear him approach the room, the one who watches them, they didn't know he observed their indiscretion from the narrow slit between the door and its jamb.

Lifting his head and releasing the lightly tanned cock from his mouth, the older man sucked in a deep breath, "Fuck, you're so hot!"

Steven didn't know how to respond, he just nodded, feeling the older man run his finger through his pubes and up to his flat belly.

"Turn over so I can see that sexy ass."

Steven sat up, "I told you I'm not ready for that."

The man shook his head and gave a dismissive wave, "I just wanna see your ass, that's all. You won't suck my cock; you won't even let me fuck you. Do you even want to have fun at all?"

Complying with the sweaty guy, he turned over, exposing his behind, two perfectly round mounds with blonde-brown hair that crept across the lower-inner part of the cheeks, as though the hair from his thighs was migrating up to his asshole.

The eyes were transfixed on the two of them. He had never seen Steven like this before, a man he had known for most of his life, here now, unashamedly nude and submissive. The eyes shifted to see the hands of the man, groping and massaging the cheeks of the ass. The hands looked rough, with little dried cuts and small yellow calluses here and there. The lids of the eyes, dark cocoa brown, squeezed shut, unsure if he should continue to watch, or just leave now and pretend he saw nothing. But it was too difficult to leave now. He felt his own erection growing as he watched the two of them stealthily. He was going to keep quiet; he didn't want them to know he could see. Maybe there was still a chance he could pretend that he didn't witness a thing.

Standing up, the white man with the tattoo then straddled Steven's backside, on his knees. The man was now stroking his cock, heavily scarred from circumcision. He reached down between the young man's leg's, stroking the light brown hair on his balls. The oscillating motion of his hand gradually hastened; his teeth clenched.

The eyes widened; the observer's hands trembled, even as he squeezed his own hard-on. Seeing them both from beyond the doorway, doing something that was so taboo, it made the blood in his veins surge. His cock throbbed and ached.

"I'm gonna cum!" the white man said, still furiously jerking his dick.

"Yo, Robby, where you at?" A voice called from the stairs. In the darkness, footsteps approached.

Robert, the observer, thought quickly. He backed into the bathroom across from the bedroom, turning on the light and quietly shutting the door. He hated himself for what was about to happen, but he was sure there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He heard the door across the hall open.

"Oh shit! Stevey?!" the voice cracked. "What the hell is going on?"

Quickly opening the bathroom door, Robert ran out as if he was also caught unaware. He entered the bedroom in time to see his friend Marco, standing by the door in disbelief, his jaw gaping open.

The white man was still ejaculating on Steven's back as they both desperately tried to cover up with blankets.

Looking up at Robby, Steven could see his best friend, a nearly seven-foot tall and somewhat muscular black man with a runner's build, who now looked back at him with an expression of horror.

Robert turned to the white man, "Get out of here!"

The man stood up and started putting his clothes back on, looking up constantly to make sure he wasn't about to be attacked.

Marco, ever the macho Latino of the group, took two steps toward Stevey, "What the fuck, man? Have you been a fag this whole time?" Without waiting for an answer, he raised his fist and landed a blow on Steven's forehead, causing the bed to bounce and shake.

The sudden shift to violence caught Robert off guard, his gentle brown eyes connected with the cobalt blue eyes of his best friend; eyes that called out to him for help. With his blood suddenly boiling, Robert stepped in between his two friends and shoved Marco away, "No! Leave him alone!"

From downstairs, a commotion grew louder as two young men hurried up the stairs and into the room. They were each dressed casually in pants and sweaters of dark colors. "Dude, Robby, what's going on?" another black man wearing a pristine red zip-up hoodie, had asked. But as the group of men scanned the room, seeing Steven pull on a pair of briefs and cowering behind Robert, and then on the other side of the room, the strange white man who thrust his feet back into his shoes without tying them, it became apparent what had transpired. "Woah...what the hell?" he said.

The muscular Asian friend peeked around the other black man saying, "Dude, were they hooking up with each other?"

"I don't know," said the black man in the red hoodie, his voice and mind lost in bewilderment.

"Get out of here!" Robert barked at the white man again.

Picking up the rest of his belongings, the older white man tried to push past the trio of men, they shoved him, wrinkling their noses and narrowing their eyes.

"You sick fuck!" they spat. "Perv!" another one said. The young men filed out of the room after him.

Robby turned around to see Steven who was hunched over, head bowed, arms crossed, and shivering from nerves. He had a blank expression on his face, as though all the life had been drained out of him. "Stevey, you alright?"

He didn't respond. He just shook a little, his eyes glassy. There was a small cut on his forehead and a bead of blood began to form.

More commotion from the hallway; a woman hollering, "Steven what is going on, there was a strange man and-" Both his parents had entered the room, seeing clothes strewn about, and their son standing with only his underwear on. His expression read like a book.

The father, standing there uncomfortably in his plaid shirt and heavy jacket, couldn't bear to look at his own son. He simply cleared his throat and said aloud, "Robby, we uh, we need to have a word with our son."

The black man nodded, noting the father with one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his forehead as a vein throbbed under the skin. The mother had her mouth covered, and she glared at her son with an expression that Robby had never seen before. It could only be described with the message it conveyed: disgust, disappointment, and resentment, all of it emanating from her eyes.

Robert went out of the room and descended the stairs. He realized that Steven was in a heap of trouble. He may have been an adult and earned an income of his own, but that doesn't mean every family will just accept their son's homosexuality with open arms.

How long has he been hiding this? Robert thought to himself. How many times had he hung out with me, and he was thinking those thoughts? Why did he decide that he wanted to sleep with a man?

In the confusion of the moment, Robert had only thought about protecting his friend from getting hit again, but now his mind was in a frenzy as he stepped out of the house. In the distance, the white man started his car and drove off in a hurry as the young men kicked and threw small rocks at it.

Robert had known Steven most of his life, they both relied on each other for friendship. Eventually, they grew their friend group with the trio of men who stood nearby loudly debating what they had seen in that bedroom. Steven had been the quiet one in the group, endlessly lost in his own thoughts, but he always was ready to share a smile and a laugh. It occurred to Robert that for the last few months, Stevey hadn't been acting his usual self...maybe that's when he started planning to meet a man in his room?

From behind him, the front door slammed shut. Steven was dressed in the same jogging pants, but this time he had a heavy sweater and shoes on. He wiped his eyes as he hastily pushed past Robby.

"Hey, Stevey, are you ok?"

"What do you care?" He spat with a shaky voice. "What were you doing here, anyway? You weren't supposed to be off work for another two hours!"

Robert shook his head, "I got off early, me and guys thought we might play some games with you, so we came over. Your dad didn't feel very good after dinner, so your parents skipped the movie and came straight home and they let us in as soon as they got here." He paused to look back at the house, pointing to it, "I went upstairs to use the bathroom," he decided to leave out the part where he observed their gay sex, "...and that's when I heard Marco yelling."

Stevey, looked around, unsure of what to say next. He wiped another tear from his eye, "You should have just minded your own business."

Robert took a half step backward, cocking his head slightly. "What?" he couldn't believe his ears. "Steven, Marco was about to beat the living shit out of you, I stopped him! I thought that's what you wanted!"

"What I wanted..." he squeezed his eyes shut, and more tears fell from his cheeks. His lips quivered momentarily. "What I didn't think would happen tonight, is being disowned by my family."

Drawing in a quick breath, like being punctured with a needle, Robert's jaw dropped. Everything had happened so fast, and it had all become a blur. His friend's life changed in an instant.

"What the hell, Stevey?" The three men said as they approached. "Are you gay?"

Silence. Steven's eyes dropped, peering down at the ground as though he might lose concentration and make himself disappear.

Robert was petrified. Steven didn't deny his part in the situation, and now there was no justification for him. Steven liked men. He couldn't understand why he wouldn't deny it. Why not just save yourself all this trouble and at least pretend, why let people judge you?

"Dude, we changed in the gym next to you, did you ever think about us like that?" The Latino guy grimaced at the thought.

Steven shook his head, very slowly, his lower lip quivered, and he clenched his jaw.

"You fuckin freak, we trusted you!" the Asian guy growled.

The men stepped closer.

Robert shoved the guys aside, "Leave him alone!"

"What the fuck, dude?" one of them spat.

"It's over, it's done! Just leave him alone," Robert said, getting between them and his friend. He turned to wrap his arm around the blonde boy's shoulder and together, they started away in the night, leaving the group of men in the darkness.

* * *

They hadn't left the poor side of town yet, but the row houses, like the one they left behind, made way for denser apartment blocks made from slightly larger houses of brick and mortar. Decades ago, these structures had been split into tiny studio apartments barely larger than a closet space and were rented out by people struggling to get by. This was where Robert lived, on the third floor.

The studio was dark, there was a full-size bed in one corner, and just feet away was a large chest of drawers against the wall with the windows. There was room for a tiny kitchenette which consisted of a sink, a mini-fridge, a small countertop, a two-burner electric range, and a microwave. Beyond the wall of the kitchenette was a small bathroom with a standing shower and a toilet wedged into the corner. It wasn't much, but it was home.

Robert sat Steven down on the edge of the bed, it was the only place to sit. He made his way to the bathroom to get a small first aid kit that was gifted to him last summer by his ever-worrisome mother. Then he returned to the room, turned on the light, and began unpacking disposable sterile cloths and a bandage. The blonde guy had a streak of blood down the side of his face coming from the small cut above his eyebrow.

"Here," Robert said, laying out the supplies, "You can clean yourself up. I have to take a shower; I'll be right out."

He took his shower, scrubbing off the stress of the day, all the while so confused about his friend and this sudden decision to hook up with a strange man. It was gross! But he could kind of see the appeal. When he thought back on what he saw through the crack in the door, he remembered how casual it looked. How transactional the encounter was. The two men were giving each other what they wanted, and it would have ended with them parting ways, had everything gone to plan. Yes, he could see the appeal...but he could never imagine himself doing that kind of thing. Robert looked down; his black cock was rising.

After the shower, he toweled off and put on a pair of boxers and some basketball shorts, no shirt, whenever he was home, he liked to relax. He left the bathroom to see that Stevey was still sitting where he last left him, he hadn't even touched the bandages and supplies.

Robert shook his head, and then knelt down in front of his friend and began cleaning the blood off of his face with gauze and sterile cloths. Then he tended to the wound, gently dabbing at the small cut with antiseptic, applying a clear cream, and then laying down a bandage. Then he packed up the first aid kit.

Steven's eyes gravitated to the silky dark-cocoa skin of his friend, passing over his developed pecs, and gliding down his smooth and mildly muscular abdomen. He admired Robert's tall and masculine features, as his friend stood and went to put the first aid kit back into the bathroom.

"Are you hungry, Stevey? I have some kick-ass burritos I can nuke," Robby walked back out to the kitchenette and surveyed the single cabinet pantry under the countertop, "and oh...I have these spicy noodle bowls, they're pretty good if you can handle the heat."

Silence.

He turned to look at Steven, his eyes were peering out the window into the densely crowded suburbs. He seemed a million miles away from here.

Robert sighed, "Look, I'm not that bothered by the gay thing. I just...want to know why you didn't give girls another shot." He sat down on the bed next to him, and when there was still no response he added again, "You could have just lied and told them you were still straight. Everything would have gone back to normal, dude, I mean people make mistakes all the time. You can still go back to being straight."

Steven pursed his lips, suppressing the emotion within.

"All I can think," Robert paused, trying to make sense of the situation, "is that maybe you...want to be gay." He shook his head, bewildered, "But I don't get it, why would you go on down that path when you can clearly see your life is falling around you?" He exhaled, his voice sounding somewhat defeated, "I don't get it, Stevey."

The eyes of the golden-haired boy began to well up with tears, but they continued to reflect an emptiness within.

"Unless..." the black man crossed his arms, pinching his lower lip, "unless you realized that you've been gay all along...and it's a part of you?" He became lightheaded as the thought occurred to him. Anyone in their right mind would have gone back to being straight...if they only could. Steven must have felt like he couldn't go back, which means that he's tried going back. He wouldn't have wanted his life to collapse around him like this, nobody wants this, they are afflicted with it, they have to live with it.

Steven didn't move or speak or even shift his eyes, not even when another tear rolled down his cheek.

It broke Robert up to see him feeling so hopeless and lost. "Stevey," he said, "You're my best friend."

Steven's eyes blinked slowly.

"I love you, Stevey," he said in a soft breathy voice, ducking his head to search those cobalt blue eyes for the friend he lost, "You are loved."

And like an avalanche slowly gathering momentum, Steven's expression began to break, the tears streamed down his face, and his lips distorted and twisted. The boy shattered then, and he wept. Robert had never seen a man cry like this, but he was happy to see his friend come back from the abyss, he wrapped his arms around him. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Steven buried his face into Robert's neck, and soon he was wailing like an injured animal.

Robby held him tight, his right thumb softly stroking the back of his neck. The pain emanated out of him, turning his skin red hot in Robert's grasp.

Steven was lost in a daze of emotion, he was physically and mentally exhausted, and nothing in the world mattered anymore, nothing besides Robert. His eyes were shut to keep the rest of the world at a distance, and the only thing he could hear was the rhythmic beating of Robert's heart and the air passing in and out of his chest. As Steven wiped his own tears, he laid his hand to rest against Robby's chest, the sensation of the larger man's skin against his own was a comfort like no other he'd ever felt. The arms that held him, appeared larger as they flexed to tightly grasp him. He felt so safe, so warm, in Robert's protective arms.

On and on it went, the tears for the life he lived. It became dark, and the boys grew tired. Robert lay back in his bed, bringing Steven with him to lay his head on his chest, the wailing over, but the tears still falling amid quiet sniffles.

As Steven listened to his friend's breathing, he kept in synchrony with him, learning how to breathe with him, and letting everything else in the world fade away. There was no familial breakdown, the loss of a home, or the betrayal of his friends, there was only breathing, and the body heat that radiated from his protector and made its way into his soul, defrosting it from the icy abyss.

Robert wasn't used to laying so intimately with another guy, but this was an extraordinary situation that called for a great deal of support and comfort, from one human to the next. Holding the man close to him was a small price to pay for a friend so desperately in need of a friend.

* * *

Cars on the road honked, elevated municipal trains sped across the landscape with their shrill electric cry. Though the blinds on the window were drawn, rays of sunlight infiltrated the small separations between them. Robby's heavy eyelids opened wider, taking in his surroundings. He had some kind of gut feeling like a major battle was fought the night before, and today the aftermath must be dealt with. Though he couldn't recall what exactly had happened.

As his senses came to, he could feel a gentle tickle against his left nipple, then he realized the pressure of Steven's heavy head was against his chest, his soft exhalation brushed against him every few seconds. He looked so peaceful, so serene. He didn't have delicate or feminine features, he was very much masculine in appearance, but his small size and weak build made him look...cute.

Robert felt his own cock stir within his basketball shorts, he had morning wood that suddenly grew and stiffened even more. The thin material of his boxers and shorts were nothing to hold back the raging erection that began to pitch a tent. It was then that he realized Steven's arm was wrapped around his waist, and the cock that tugged at the material, was also rolling his arm slightly, threatening to shake him awake with each throb of the nearly eight-inch dick.