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Pick Up the Pieces

Change comes to all of us. For Theo Bascopolis, the first time is when he's fifteen. He finds his life falling apart when his father discovers Theo is gay and orders him to become straight or leave. Having no choice, in spite of what his father might think, Theo leaves. But where can a fifteen-year-old go? Especially when it starts to rain. He thinks things are looking up when he meets a striking man named Franky, who seems very attracted to him. However, once again Theo's life changes when he learns all Franky wants is for him to hustle. And so Theo becomes the rent boy Sweetcheeks.<br><br>However, Franky underestimates Sweetcheeks, and the results of the ensuing fight sees Sweetcheeks fleeing to Washington DC, where he crosses paths with a group of rent boys who take him in. Finally Sweetcheeks has a family, a home, and an additional source of income in the form of apartments they're able to rent out.<br><br>His life changes again a few years later when a mysterious tenant by the name of Mark Vincent becomes the reason behind the assault on one of Sweetcheeks's boys. Vincent visits the boy in the hospital, bringing with him his equally enigmatic trainee, William Matheson. The instant attraction blindsides Sweetcheeks. In spite of knowing love isn't for rent boys, he hopes Matheson can see beyond the body he's offered to so many.<br><br>But Matheson has secrets of his own. Can Sweetcheeks overcome his insecurities enough to believe in the quiet man who's come into his life? Can Matheson keep his actual occupation a secret without it jeopardizing their budding relationship?

Tinnean · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
122 Chs

Chapter 118

I opened my mouth to carol, “Happy birthday,” but the surprise was on me.

He was wearing those 501 jeans and a snug-fitting, short-sleeved knit polo shirt of deep-forest green that emphasized the fact that he wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Maybe he wasn’t wearing shorts either? I could barely bite back a moan.

The corner of his mouth was curled in that grin. He knew how those jeans affected me.

I cleared my throat and pulled myself together. “Happy birthday!” I had a towel draped over my arm, and I gave a slight bow and escorted him into the dining room. “If monsieur will ‘avea seat?” I used my best French accent.

“Oh, babe!” He took in the decorations, the Irish linen tablecloth, the good china and flatware, the centerpiece of blue and white carnations arranged to look like a birthday cake. “Oh, babe! Thank you!”

“Do you want to open these now?” I pointed to his presents.

“No. I think I’ll wait until after dinner.”

“You do believe in delayed gratification, don’t you?”