My North Star Pt. 07-08

Feedback encouraged in the comments.

Please be ruthless if you notice a fucked up comma, or italics. : D

This part is a double because I didn't feel like publishing two separate things. See if you guys like it better as a double chapter instead of a single.

Getting close to the end here. Ch 10 should be the last one.

Trigger/Content Warning:

This story contains themes of religious guilt, emotional repression, family trauma, and queer yearning. It's a slow-burn gay romance with a dumbass himbo and a beautiful femboy. It also explores the internal struggle of growing desire, shame, and forbidden closeness between two best friends.

There are a few homophobic slurs used in specific moments and some veiled references to Domestic Violence.

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Chapter 7- A Judas Kiss

Somewhere West of Atlanta, Georgia, Spring, 2023.

Friday, February 17th

Someone left the blinds open last night, and the sun punches me in the eyes. Judging light. Unforgiving.

I groan, half-blind, and blink awake.

Stephen is practically draped over me. Hips curled over my thigh, his face buried in my chest, a drool patch soaking into my shirt. He looks like a sleepy little demon, soft and beautiful and wrapped around me like a sin I want to commit twice.

I take a deep breath of his raven hair in the cool of the morning and brush my fingers gently down his back. I find the hem of the hoodie and realize, very quickly, that it had ridden up during the night.

My hand moves instinctively, muscle memory maybe, and lands right on the curve of his ass.

Smooth. Firm. Lotioned to hell and back.

I squeeze.

Once. Then again, bolder.

God forgive me, but I'm going to hell happy.

Man if Stephen is blessed with this kind of ass, I wonder what his mom looked like...

"Mmmm... babyyyy..." he mutters in a half-sleep moan, shifting slightly. His hips roll.

Right. On. Top. Of. Me.

...

Okay. Time to go.

As much as I'd love to keep hearing those sounds, molesting him in his sleep is definitelynot very gentlemanly.

I need to jerk off. I've barely touched myself lately because the images have been too much. Now, though? I might bust quicker than a thirteen-year-old.

I kiss the top of his head, lingering longer than I should. I have to talk to him tonight. It might ruin everything, but I'd rather be honest and rejected than silent and haunted.

I refuse to be a coward anymore.

I ease him off me, gently rolling him to the other side of the bed. He clings a little, stubborn as always, but I tuck him under the pillow, pull the covers snug, and close the curtains to let him sleep.

Then I go work out.

Pilates. Calisthenics. Treadmill at the hotel gym. I get in a few miles before a call interrupts me.

The complex says emergency repairs should be done by two. They even replaced my bed. I might actually give them a 4-star review.

Then the sheriff's office calls for a quick follow-up. He suggests I get Stephen checked out, just to be safe. So I book him an urgent care appointment---$45 bucks. A steal, considering Stephen's probably gonna cost me a lot more in the long run.

I snag two bagels and juice from the lackluster breakfast bar. Orange juice for me. Apple juice for Stephen, Neanderthal.

Back upstairs, I hear his music before I even reach the room. He loves his routines.

The door swings open---and there he is.

Wet hair glistening, black lace boy shorts, a towel draped over his shoulders. Sunlight wraps around him like a halo.

I nearly drop the food.

He turns, cerulean eyes locking onto mine. He checks me out, slowly, thoroughly. The tension is a damn electric fence.

"Don't stare too much, or you will go blind Mikey." He teases

"What if I want to stare?" I growl

"Wh--what?"His eyes go wide. His voice wavers.

"I can look all I want."

I step closer until I'm just within touching distance. His breath hitches.

"What? Don't tell me my attentionbothers you..."

My voice dips low as I reach out and trail a finger along his neck, down his arm.

"Uh... hhnnng... M-Mikey... w-what...?"

He's practically melting, trembling like a black cat in a thunderstorm.

I lean down, thumb gently on his lips, hand cupping his cheek. I whisper against his ear, slow and deep:

"I know how to play your little game, Stephen."

Then I step back. Watch him wobble. Breathless. Flushed from ear to chest. His erection says more than his mouth does.

I strip down to my underwear in the center of the room, basking in his shocked silence, then head to the shower.

"Fair is fair, bud," I smirk.

"Fuck you, Michael."

That little minx deserved that for years of teasing.

Still... his reaction makes me wonder.

Does he want me?

Or did I just push the right buttons?

I don't know. But I want to.

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At a lake house, Lake Acworth, Georgia, 2023

Evening, Friday, February 17th

The day blurred after that little Hilton moment. We had a full list of errands:

* Urgent care

* Lunch

* New outfits for the bonfire

* Booze

* Check on the apartment

While Stephen had a virtual therapy check-in, I snuck off for a secret errand of my own.

He was quiet all day. Barely said a word. Avoided eye contact. I hope I didn't push too far. I was just teasing... but maybe it was too much. Too soon.

He said he was just nervous for the party. But there was something else behind his eyes. Like he wanted to say something---but swallowed it every time.

At one point, I caught him staring at me during a phone call. The second I noticed, he looked away like he'd reached for something he couldn't have.

Stephen drove us to the party and we arrived a bit late. The party had clearly been going for hours already.

There were three kinds of people there:

* The chill crowd outside, grilling and playing cornhole.

* The party animals inside, throwing back drinks and bumping music.

* The jet ski and swimsuit crew down by the docks.

A lot of people had showed up. Cars were parked all along the path through the woods to the lake house and some more affluent classmates had showed up on their own boats or jet skis from other lake houses.

I lost Stephen early. He disappeared into the crowd, and I wandered---got a drink, ate a burger, sat with some guys from my enviro class.

I spotted Stephen here and there---laughing, splashing, glowing in the sunset in a black one-piece.

But once, just once, I saw him alone. Sitting on the dock. Legs dangling. No smile. Just... stillness.

I stood to go to him. He vanished before I took a step.

Two of my buddies sat with me near the end of the docks as the sun started to set and the fain hint of thunder started in the distance. There was a cluster of partygoers trying to kick start a bonfire before this little pocket of drizzle hit us.

Later, I sat with Ethan and Nico near the docks. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, and some guys struggled to light the bonfire.

Ethan's my old gym bro. Nico's a party goblin. These guys are blunt.

Ethan: "So when are you gonna move on from Barbie Bitch and find someone who'll actuallyhold you down?"

Nico: "I got a cousin. She a little crazy, but in a fun way. Slashed her ex's tires. Not his throat."

Me: "It's not really in the cards right now."

Ethan: "That's a bitch-made answer."

Nico: "What you really need to do is stop acting like a pussy and go tap that ass you been staring at all night."

I take a big gulp of my drink. They're not wrong.

Stephen had changed into a slinky little black one piece and let his hair sit in the basking rays of the sunset. He had spent the last hour or so on the lake with a few of his friends and they were making their way back now.

Stephen looked ready to take in that little number.

Nico: "I've seen the way he takes care of you. Brings you food. Sends you lil texts. If I had someone like that? I'd never leave the house."

Ethan: "I'd have two kids and a mortgage by now."

Ethan rumbles in laughter and pushes me slightly, causing my drink to spill on my shorts.

Me: "Fuck you guys. I'm going to wipe this shit off."

Nico: "Slap his ass and kiss him already. Mark your damn territory."

Ethan: "Or maybe I will."

I flipped them off. They laughed harder.

I saw Stephen and some of the other partygoers head into the house as a light rain started to pick up.

I passed Stephen on his way in. He looked... fragile. Eyes on the floor. Shoulders hunched. He didn't even glance at me.

That look carved me up.

Most bathrooms were full of puke or people... doing things. Gross.

Upstairs, I found one empty---until I heard it. Two voices.

Cindy. Stephen.

I stopped breathing.

"Look I don't understand why you are telling me all this know Stephen. All that stuff is in the past."

"Yeah but you need to understand something Cindy..."

I crept closer.

"That man is the reason why your relationship failed. He's the reason why I've never felt comfortable to be who I am."

"He's a violent asshole who breaks things that don't belong to him."

No...

"He ruined his relationship with Mrs. Worthington. He's a fuck-up."

Please... no.

"At his core, he's a coward, Cindy. A fucking coward who poisons everything he touches."

Don't do this...

"You deserved better. I deserved better. But you know what they say---"

"The sins of the father..."

The door opened.

Stephen froze.

Tears streamed down my face.

He called my name.

I ran until I couldn't breathe. Down the wooded path. Into the night. Rain soaking me like judgment.

I should've known.

It was too good to be true.

My sins finally caught up to me.

My hands trembled on my phone.

One number. One name. A contact I never should've dialed.

It rang.

"Honey... is that you?"

I didn't get to answer.

The truck came around the bend.

It hit me.

Hard.

Rain poured over my crumpled body.

I wished for forgiveness.

I wished my father had loved me.

I wished my love could forget me.

I wished for peace.

I heard voices---distant, panicked---before everything went dark.

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"The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children..." -- Exodus 20:5

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Chapter 8- The Veil Torn

Somewhere West of Atlanta, Georgia, Spring, 2023.

Friday, February 17th

Stephen's POV on the events of Chapter 7

I was having a rather pleasant dream.

Superman was filling in for Batman on patrol through Gotham. Catwoman, of course, was playing her usual game---hips swaying, suit zipped low, voice sultry and low as she whispered only for him.

Finally, Superman had enough. He pressed her against a rooftop wall and growled,

"It's time I give you the hammer of justice, Catwoman."

That hammer was halfway between her thighs when a firm hand grabbed my ass.

Wait...

That wasn't part of the dream.

Michael's hand squeezed again.

Oh.

Oh.

I could work with this.

"Mmmm... babyyyy..." I mutter in a half-sleep moan, shifting slightly.

I feel him beneath me---firm and thick---and suddenly I'mwide awake.

Holy hell. That thing is real?

He kisses the top of my head gently, and I have to fight every urge in my twisted little soul not to pull him back down and make him see what sin tastes like.

He shifts me gently to the other side of the bed and tucks me in. I play possum.

I peek through the blanket as he changes into his workout clothes. Damn.

His back muscles are singing hymns to my libido.

God help me, I want to lick the sweat off those biceps. I want to tear his underwear off with my teeth. I want his cock buried so deep I taste his ancestry.

...

I run to the bathroom like a man possessed.

I strip down, grab his discarded shirt, and commit what can only be called a holy ritual in the shower. Thirty minutes. Cold water. Dirty thoughts.

Even afterwards, the phantom sensation of his hand on my ass lingers like a cursed brand.

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I do a light version of my routine, blasting Dolly Parton, because the Queen gives me strength, and pull on my favorite pair of lace boy shorts.

Today's the day.

I'll stand by the window, sunlight catching just right, curves out, hopes high. Maybe he'll finally take the bait. Hell, he could take me however he wanted, gentle, rough, or upside-down in a chandelier. I wouldn't care.

But he never will.

Michael is my best friend. My whole heart. The only person who's ever made me feel safe. But I want more. So much more. And he's straighter than an arrow dipped in holy water.

Right?

Still. Can't blame a girl for trying.

I hear his boots stomping down the hall and strike a pose. Sunlight. Lace. Hair toss.

The door opens.

I can practically hear his blush and turn slowly to meet the eyes of my personal superhero. He always looks so... delectable... after he works out.

I should set up a secret camera in his room for when he does calisthenics. That would be some great... night material.

"Don't stare too much, or you will go blind Mikey."

Please stare. Please. Consume me.

"What if I want to stare?" he growls, dark and hungry.

"Wh--what?"

"I can look all I want."

He steps into my space like a lion circling prey. I can barely stand.

My brain blue-screens.

"What? Don't tell me my attention bothers you..."

His voice rumbles through my ears as he starts to trail a finger down my neck towards my arm.

"Uh... hhnnng... M-Mikey... w-what...?"

My knees knock. My erectionthrobs against the fabric of my shorts. I'd let himruin me right here.

He leans in, thumb against my lips, hand on my cheek.

God, let me suck that thumb. Please.

"I know how to play your little game, Stephen." he whispers.

And then he steps back, smug as sin, grinning like a devil who knows I just sold my soul.

I can't breathe. I can't think. If I don't sit down, I might actually melt into a puddle on the floor.

This bastard.

He strips down right in front of me, flexing like a fitness model, and struts off to the shower.

"Fair is fair, bud,"

"Fuck you, Michael."

Yes, actually. Please.

I have to clench every muscle in my body not to chase him into that bathroom and beg for his dick like a starving dog.

But I don't.

Because I know the truth.

Michael loves me, but only as a friend. A brother. Something safe.

Right?

He was just teasing. Our little game.

Right?

God, if you're listening... Turn Michael gay. Pretty please.

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The rest of the day passed in a fog.

Urgent care. Lunch. Shopping. Chaos. But my mind was stuck in that moment by the window. Every look. Every word. Every breath.

I called my therapist during a quiet moment. She wanted to talk about the shooting.

I wanted to talk about Michael.

He's been the topic of more than a few sessions lately. Especially when we discussed past relationships. The trainwrecks. The misfires. The ones who wanted a pretty toy, not a real person.

They wanted:

* A blowjob from a "girl."

* A "girlfriend" who wouldn't get pregnant.

* A "boyfriend" who wouldn't challenge their masculinity.

But Michael?

Michael was everything I wanted. Everything I feared.

And unlike the others, hemeant something.

I could live without his love...

But not without him.

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The party was already in full swing when we arrived. I parked my Altima in a little open spot between the trees.

I wore my black one-piece. Something bold. Powerful. Maybe if I dressed like confidence, I'dfeel confident.

I lost track of Michael. Too many bodies. Too many lights. Too much noise.

I made drinks. Said hi to friends. Laughed a little too loud. Smiled a little too hard.

But I kept watching him.

Every time our eyes met, I panicked. My heart couldn't take the weight of his gaze.

I ended up on a boat with a few girls to clear my head.

Cindy sat at the front. Stephanie was in the back. I settled in with them.

She shocked me with the details of the failed date.

I shocked her back with details of the previous night.

"Hmmm. I knew it was too good to be true. He was being a little bit standoffish. Almost like a robot..."

She sipped on her tequila lemonade and gave me a look that could peel paint.

"What happened between you two?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Huh?"

"CINDY! Get your fat ass over here."

Cindy flopped beside me, her expression soft but serious.

"Stephen. He's in love with you."

I choked on my margarita. Stephanie patted my back.

"She called me after the failed date. We pieced it together. I love NCIS, after all."

"Michael clearly tried to 'pray the gay away.' So... what happened? A kiss? A hand job?"

"It looked like he was trying to follow a script for 'Being a Gentleman'," Stephanie added.

The two ladies kept going and The puzzle pieces fell. Hard.

My tears came next.

I told them everything---my fears, my longings, the bracelets, the nights I lay in silence praying he'd hear my heart.

"I am so sorry ladies. I am sorry He has caused us so much pain."

Cindy and Stephanie rub my back as they coo over my tears.

"Its okay baby, we forgave him..."

I could see the shore approaching now and knew I didn't have long to tell the story thatreally needed to be told.

"Not Michael." I choke out. "His father. That man broke him."

"Michael's heart is fragile. Love is dangerous to him---it has to be hidden. He's afraid of being what hurt him."

They stared at me, wide-eyed.

Most people didn't know much about Michael's family. He kept it locked down. Buried.

I saw him on the docks, eyes searching me. That look---full of love---hurt.

"I gotta go to the bathroom."

I passed him on the way in.

I couldn't look at him. Couldn't let him see my pain. My hope.

Cindy followed me to the upstairs bathroom, shoved her way in, and held me as I trembled.

"Look I don't understand why you are telling me all this now Stephen. All that stuff is in the past."

"Yeah but you need to understand something Cindy..."

I stepped out of her grasp and looked at her resolutely..

"That man is the reason why your relationship failed. He's the reason why I've never felt comfortable to be who I am."

He put Michael in that cage.

"He's a violent asshole who breaks things that don't belong to him."

He ruined Michael's wings.

"He ruined his relationship with Mrs. Worthington. He's a fuck-up."

He blocked out the sky.

"At his core, he's a coward, Cindy. A fucking coward who poisons everything he touches."

Michael will never give me a chance because of what his father did to him.

"You deserved better. I deserved better. But you know what they say---"

"The sins of the father..."

I turned to leave the room then, and saw him.

Michael stood there. Silent.

Tears streamed down his face.

My breath caught in my throat.

He turned.

And ran.

I collapsed to my knees.

Cindy held me. Stephanie joined later. I couldn't stop shaking.

He heard the worst part of everything.

He thought it was about him.

He didn't know I loved him.

"Please," I whispered to the ceiling, "please let him come back to me."

Somewhere in the distance, I heard an ambulance.

I didn't sleep.

Please don't leave me, just like everyone else.

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"The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children... but to those who love truly, mercy shall endure for a thousand lifetimes.

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Thanks for reading. : D

Spicy is happening in ch.9, so not too far away now

Text your best friend tonight.

-YearningStories <3