Date: Fri, 20 Oct 2000 19:57:29 GMT
From: Irda Majere <jack_kea@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Brother Part I

Yo!! Here's a new story for ya to read and enjoy, I've had the opening scene
in my head for a while so I decided to get it down once and for all. Be sure
to write and tell me what you think! The address is jack_kea@hotmail.com
Look forward to hearing from ya!!

Disclaimer: Fiction. Don't read if you're not mature enough to.  This story
is not intended to imply anything about the sexuality of any celebrity
mentioned.


The Big Brother
by Irda Majere


Part I


Ronan Keating was sitting in the
living area of his hotel suite in Glasgow, smoking. God, he loved having the
afternoon off. No work, no hassle, no screaming girls, no BZ members... And
since Viv and the kids were over in Dublin, no nagging wives or crying kids
either! Taking a long drag from his joint, Ronan leaned back and closed his
eyes, getting lost in the tones of George Michael's 'Songs from the Last
Century' which was playing on the stereo at a high volume. It was his
favourite 'getting high' record, he sometimes listened to it four or five
times in a row when he was wasted.

He sighed. All he needed now was a blow
job, preferrably from that new dancer guy....what was his name? Ronan's mind
was clouded from the marijuana, but after a moment he remembered. Shaqur.
Damn, that boy was gorgeous! Tall, black, PERFECT body.... He had to get his
hands on that guy, sooner rather than later. It shouldn't be a problem, most
of those dancers were queer anyway. And what bloke wouldn't jump at the
chance of sleeping with Ronan Keating? The singer smiled in the knowledge
that there were tons of guys out there who would que up for the chance to
suck his cock.

The thought of the sexy dancer aroused Ronan, and he soon
slipped his hand into his pants, stroking his member as he took a drag from
the rapidly-shrinking joint. 'Damn,' he thought as the strokes became
faster, 'I need you, boy. Where the fuck are you?'



Shaqur Amaro was
homesick. He had never in all of his eighteen years been abroad before, and
being so far away from his brother and his friends was killing him. He
couldn't remember ever having been apart from Areq for so long, and he
missed his brother like hell. He was wandering around the fancy hotel
aimlessly, looking for something to get his mind off his homesickness.

'Who
could I go see?' he thought as he went over the list of people he could
visit in his mind. Not Stephen, he was too....Stephen. Disney just wasn't
Shaq's thing. What about Shane? He was cool. And not so bad looking
either... Shaqur made his way to Shano's room and once there he knocked a
few times. No answer. He waited and knocked again. He sighed. Shane
obviously wasn't in.

Shaqur walked off, trying to think of who to try next.
As he passed the door next to Shane's, he heard loud music coming from the
room within. 'Ronan,' he thought. 'He's obviously in.' He knocked, but got
no answer. 'He probably can't hear me 'cause of the music,' Shaq thought and
tried the door. It was open. He stepped inside and closed it behind him. The
sight before him made him gasp. Ronan was sitting in one of the arm chairs
with his hand down his pants, jerking off! The sight was definitely
shocking, but also incredibly sexy. 'What am I thinking?!' he thought to
himself. 'I can't just stand here and stare!' He was just about to turn
around and exit the room, hopefully unnoticed, when Ronan opened his eyes
and saw him. To Shaqur's surprise, a smile spread across Ronan's face. He
reached out and turned off the music.

"You're here," he said in a raspy
voice. It was only then that Shaq noticed the smell in the room. He couldn't
quite place it... No. It couldn't be. Ronan couldn't be smoking grass?!
Ronan stood up and walked over to the stunned teenager, pulling off his
t-shirt as he went. Shaqur's gaze travelled over the hairy but gorgeous body
of the older man, and his admiration did not go unnoticed by Ronan.

"Like
what you see, honey?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around the taller
man's neck. Without giving Shaq a chance to reply, Ronan pulled the young
dancer into a kiss, catching Shaq totally off guard. Shaqur gently but
firmly pushed the overly eager man away, trying not to think about what was
pressing against his thigh.

"Yo, man, calm down!" he said. Ronan just
looked at him, smiling. He slipped his hands under the younger man's t-shirt
and ran them up and down the well-defined torso. He drew a breath through
his teeth and looked straight into Shaqur's eyes.

"Damn, you're built," he
said as he slowly moved his hands downward. "And I'll bet you're hung as
well," he said as he slipped both hands inside Shaqur's trousers. The smile
widened. "Oh yeah."

"Ronan, what the fuck are you doing?!" Shaq exclaimed,
removing the other man's hands from his pants. "You've got a wife and two
kids, remember!"

Ronan seemed totally uninterested in the statement.
Without a word, he knelt down in front of the taller man, undid his trousers
and engulfed Shaqur's large member in his mouth, sucking on it
expertly.

"Oh, shit!" Shaq said, all thoughts about Ronan's wife and kids
forgotten as the blonde quickly brought him to a jolting orgasm. The singer
stood up, wiping his mouth and smiling.

"Like that, baby?" he said, placing
his small hands on Shaqur's chest. The younger man just smiled. Ronan
returned the smile and said: "Thought so. Why don't we go over to the
bedroom so I can try out that sexy mouth of yours, hm?"



A lot of sex and
a few hours later, Shaqur was lying in Ronan's bed, staring up at the
ceiling as the older man slept on his chest. 'What the hell is he playin'
at?' he thought. 'What about his woman? I thought they were totally in love
and shit!' He sighed. Who gave a fuck about the wife? Shaqur had fallen for
this guy, and no bitch was going to ruin that for him. Resting his cheek on
the top of the blond head, the dancer closed his eyes and drifted off to
sleep.

Shaqur felt something wet against his chest, and deciding he needed
to know where the wetness came from, forced his eyes open and glanced down.
It was Ronan, and he was kissing the younger man's hairless chest,
presumably to wake him up.

"Good morning," Shaq said with a smile. Ronan
seized the kisses and looked up to meet his lover's gaze.

"Finally," he
replied, returning the smile as he sat up. "You're a heavy sleeper. Did you
sleep okay?" At this point, Ronan had wrapped his hand around the dancer's
shaft and was quickly bringing it to full attention. Shaqur quickly sat up,
not minding a little reprise at all. He planted his full lips on Ronan's
thinner ones and kissed him deeply while reaching down to lend Ronan a
hand.

Breaking the kiss, Shaqur breathed: "Turn around." Smiling, Ronan
obeyed without a word. Turning around, he got onto his hands and knees and
before long, Shaqur was pounding him hard, bringing loud moans and grunts
from both parties.



Stephen Gately was pissed off. He marched down the
hotel corridor, heading for his bandmate's suite. When he reached it, he
knocked on the door harshly. When he got no reply, he grabbed the handle and
marched right in. Ronan was nowhere in sight, but he could hear some
tell-tale noises coming from the sleeping area of the luxurious abode.
Sighing, the singer went over to the door and knocked, and not too quietly
either. He was sick of Ronan playing 'Hide the Sausage' when he was
*supposed* to be working.

On the other side of the door, Shaqur stopped
abruptly at the sound of the loud knock. Ronan moaned in protest.

"Don't
stop," he ordered, pushing his hips backwards and thus urging his young
lover to continue. Shaqur was too close to cumming to think straight, so he
did what he was told and continued plowing the older man's ass.

"What?"
Ronan yelled at the imposter.

"Ronan, you were supposed to be at the venue
an hour ago to practice!" Stephen shouted back irritably. "Louis and Mark
are going mental!"

The only sound that came in reply was an extra loud
moan, followed shortly by the sound of someone walking around the room. Soon
after, Ronan answered the door in his bathrobe. Stephen looked over his
shoulder to see who Ronan was 'playing' with this time. Figured. One of the
new dancers. He cursed his bandmate inwardly as his gaze moved over to the
newly-laid and smiling blonde.

"You better get your ass down there before
those guys get an ulcer," he muttered as he turned to exit the suite.

"I'll
be right there, Stevie baby!" Ronan said in an high, mockingly cheerful
voice. He laughed as he closed the bedroom door, and then turned around to
face his young companion. Shaqur was dressing hurriedly; Ronan wasn't the
only one who was late.

"It's okay for you pop stars to be late," he said as
he put his shoes on, "they're not as patient with us dancers! The
choreographer is gonna kill me!" Ronan, who didn't seem to be worried at all
in spite of the fact that he was over an hour late, walked over to the
stressed youth and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Don't worry," he
purred, "just tell them you were in bed with a pop star. They won't fire you
then." Giving Shaqur a kiss on the lips, Ronan removed his arms from the
taller man and proceeded to getting dressed, taking his time picking out the
right outfit and so making the young dancer want to pounce on him and scream
at him to hurry up. He didn't care what the hot shot pop star said, he
didn't like to be late, especially 'cause he was new in the dancing
crew.



When Shaqur and Ronan finally arrived at the venue, Louis Walsh and
Mark Plunkett had reached boiling point. "Where the hell have you been?!"
Louis exclaimed as Ronan came waltzing in. But the stuck up superstar didn't
reply, he just marched up onto the stage as if everything was in order,
grabbed a microphone and started his sound checks without even a word of
explanation.