Date: Sat, 3 Jun 2000 23:25:37 +0800
From: Lady Poetess <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Stephen

THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Stephen

By and copyright Lady Poetess

Disclaimer

This is fiction, with no resemblance to anyone real, dead, or about to be
born.


ONE

He wasn't a morning person. The last time he saw 4 am was when an apartment
several floors above his caught fire. Hence it took the phone a while to
ring before Stephen Patrick David Gately reluctantly opened one eye and
grimaced.  "Get lost!" he murmured. The phone, as if on cue, stopped
ringing.

   Blissful silence reigned for two seconds before the damned ringing began
again.

   "Damn damn damn!" With seemingly great effort Steo sat up on his bed and
rubbed his face. He lifted the phone. "This has better be good!" he said
curtly.

   A warm baritone reached his ears, its dulcet thick Irish brogue
reminding Steo of hot warm coffee. "Hello buddy. Did I interrupt anything?"
the voice said in husky Irish.

   Ronan Parick John Keating, pest extraordinaire. It was all Steo could do
to swallow his groan. "Ro, it's 4 in the morning. What on earth are you
trying to do?  Kill me?"

   "Rise and shine buddy. Nobody has ever died of sleep deprivation
before." A pause. "You were sleeping, weren't you?"

   "Yes I am." Steo fell heavily on his back onto the bed and shut his
eyes. "What is it Ro?"

   "Well, I have something to tell you. Should've waited till you're wide
awake, but I'm just too excited." Another pause, probably for dramatic
effects. Ronan was like that. "My uncle died. Long painful process."

   Steo's eyes opened wide. "Huh?"

   "That cruel old fart has accumulated 14 million dollars in real estate
and investments. 14 million! Can you believe it? That fucking miser. I just
called Mother. It was all she could do not to jump in joy. Never liked that
old bastard after he cut her off without a penny for marrying me Da."

   "So what's exciting about it?" Steo walked groggily towards the wide
glass window on the opposite wall. He pulled the curtains
apart. Strange. He never noticed how beautiful nighttime was.

   "Contrary to what the old fart expected, he couldn't take his money to
the grave. That dumb schmuck didn't even leave a will. As Mum and me were
his remaining kin, we're getting the lion share of the money."

   "Now that's exciting." Steo switched on his apartment lights. "So what's
it gotta do with me?"

   "Well, I'm gonna go back to Ireland. That's a grand wooden castle-like
country home up some remote Irish backwaters I have to look at. Thinking of
selling it once the paperwork's done. You miss Ireland?"

   "Well... sometimes. Every time I hear the 'Star Spangled Banner'. Is
that an invitation?"

   "A command, actually," Ronan said. "Next Monday, 2.48 pm flight. I've
got us tickets."

   "Wait..." But Ronan had already hung up.

   Steo scowled at the copy of a Picasso hanging on a far wall. That cocky
bastard knew him too well. Ronan hadn't even considered than Steo would
turn down the invitation. And why the hell he had to call at 4 am anyway?

   Sleepiness evaporated with the thought of a visit back to Ireland with
Ronan.  Ronan Keating, whether Steo liked it or not, was a good
friend. They had both came down to New York together, to pursue a career in
music. Ronan was a successful singer of torchy, romantic ballads and had a
loyal following, especially among females thanks to his golden good looks
and a creamy, soothing voice that reminded every listener of long, slow
lovemaking in front of a hearth - which wasn't Steve's taste in
music. Steve had pursued a different path, treading Broadway and stage. He
wasn't too successful, partly because his darker, boyish good looks will
never suit many lead roles. But he did well enough. His role as Tobias in
acclaimed playwright Ethan Hawke's play was most critically acclaimed and
was most probably up for a few awards later this year. And he was chosen to
act alongside professional players like Glenn Close and Stockard Channing
in his upcoming plays. Steve was well occupied for the next year or two.

   He was on his way up, he'd told his mother back home in Ireland. He was
content. He was. Although sometimes the loneliness threatened to consume
him, almost driving him into melancholic mood swings his friend Ethan
plummeted into with alarming regularity. If Steve sometimes found the
silence deafening, he kept it to himself. One day, he would reassure
himself. One day, he would find the Ultimate Orgasm.

   He walked across his spacious apartment, towards the shower. His
apartment was wide and roomy; the walls were painted a light shade of
cream, the floors white, shiny marble. With his savings he had the whole
place renovated, knocking down most walls so that the whole apartment was
one giant space separated into two levels by a raised floor halfway through
the apartment. A bed in his sleeping area and a table with four chairs in
the living area was his only furniture. Shelves and shelves lined the walls
of the apartment, displaying CDs, books, wine bottles, and video CDs all
arranged neatly. The only concession to privacy is a door leading to the
shower.

   Ronan always said the apartment was unlivable, but Ronan was always said
a lot of things just to irritate Steve. Steo relaxed under a rain of hot
water pouring from the shower. There was a time when he fancied himself
madly in lust with Ronan. It was hell. Ronan was an incorrigible womanizer
and a tease.  Steve had no doubt Ro would be horrified that his best friend
had entertained thoughts of jumping his bones. It was agony, however, for
Steo, to not shiver with need whenever Ronan casually put an arm around his
shoulder. Or worse, rubbed the back of Steo's neck with skilful fingers.

   "Thank God I'm over it," Steo said loudly to himself. He had hooked up
with Clydes Bownes, a Ronan look-alike, the moment he realized his lust for
Ronan was getting out of control. After three days of sweaty, sticky,
painfully pleasurable sex up at Aspen, Steo had gotten tired and dumped
poor Clydes. He took his quick loss of interest in Clydes as symbolic. If
Clydes bored the hell out of him that soon, Ronan would too. Hence, why
bothered sighing over what couldn't be?

   Steo felt just like Ally McBeal. Shit.

   Still, if should be easy pickings to spend a few days with Ronan. Just
two good friends inspecting a country house. What could go wrong?





TWO

"Here, I brought you a gift."

   Ronan gracefully climbed into Steo's car and handed him a package. It
looked suspiciously the size of a CD. "Let me guess. Your new album," Steo
said wryly.

   "Yup, and signed by me." Ronan smiled that beguiling smile of his that
always reminded Steo of the serpent in Eden. "Don't be disappointed, Steo.
It's not your birthday after all."

   It might seem self-absorbed to others, but Steo knew Ronan well. The CD
was a gift, an automatic gesture that had become a tradition among them
both, such as the front row seat Steo always had for Ronan in his plays and
musicals.  If anything, it was an acknowledgement between them of how far
they had come.  Steo kept Ronan's signed CD in a prized display shelf, and
he wondered what Ronan did with the backstage passes Steo gave him. And
Steo hated himself for wondering.

   "One day I must get a car." Ronan sat back, easing his long legs and
carelessly placing his arm around Steo's shoulder. "A beauty, just like
yours."

   Steo suppressed a shiver as white-hot chill shot up his spine at the
touch.  "Maybe you can get your manager to give you one. Your last CD went
quadruple platinum, right?"

   He turned to Ronan, then back to the main road. It was sometimes almost
painful to look at Ronan's golden beauty. Wavy shoulder length hair of
gold-spun brightness framed an aristocratically handsome face. Sensual lips
and a pair of eyes so blue it reminded Steo of drowning hyacinths
accentuated Ronan's sharply chiseled face. Ronan's lean, sleekly muscled
physique didn't hurt too bad either, Steo thought wryly. Jeremy, his buddy,
had remarked that it would be heaven to sink one's teeth into those tight
buns of Ronan's. Oh yes, definitely.  Sink his teeth and probably lick the
cleft of those sexy taut buttocks too.

   With a groan, Steo realized he was getting a very painful erection right
there.

   Down boy!

   "Maybe." Ronan reached out and turned the stereo on. "A Caddy like this
sure beats a limo. Chicks will go wild and hang their panties on the
antenna. Or handcuff themselves to the bumper. Leave phone numbers and
addresses on my windscreen."

   Nothing like Ronan talking about getting laid with women to dampen
Steo's surging hormones. Thank you Ro, Steve thought. He looked at Ronan's
seat discreetly. It was a great butt though.

   "I don't know, Ro. Rest assured nobody has ever left their panties or
addresses on this baby before."

   Ronan found the AOR station and John Mellencamp began belting out about
wild nights and getting drunk in a bar. Steo winced, rummaged through the
CD pile, and soon Tori Amos began singing about aborted babies and the pain
of schizophrenia.

   "Hey!" Ronan said indignantly but did nothing. If anything, the arm
around Steo's shoulder wrapped tighter around him.

   Steo swallowed and looked at Ronan out of the corner of his eye. The
black jeans Ronan was wearing were almost spray-painted. Steo had been
fascinated with the intriguing shapes of men's crotches ever since puberty
hit him full force, and he hated himself for being not able to
resist. Ronan adjusted his legs in the limited room of the Caddy, and
Steve's hormones almost broke into heavenly chorus when that denim fabric
bunched up the apex of Ronan's thighs. Damn it, why couldn't Ronan move
those legs a little bit more... that's it... a little bit more and Steo
would bet his Broadway Musical CDs Ronan wasn't wearing any underwear...

   A loud screech interrupted his lustful thoughts. "Damn it!" Ronan
yelled, leaning over and grabbing the steering wheel from Steo's hands. The
car swerved - it had been on the middle of the highway - and tires
screeched in protest. The oncoming truck avoided them in time, the
furious-looking man driver giving them the universal bird gesture as he
drove by.

   "I'm OK, I'm OK," Steo said, breathing heavily as he regained control of
his driving.

   Ronan punched Steo's arm not too roughly. "What the hell was that all
about?  You were looking into space and I swear you were drooling. Are you
out of your fucking mind?"

   "Sorry." What had possessed him? Steo took a deep breath. "Won't happen
again."

   Ronan turned off the CD and switched on the AOR station. "Just what were
you thinking?"

   "An out of body experience, Ro." Good heavens. Half an hour in close
proximity with Ronan and he was already drooling like a nitwit. Over his
straight, best friend's crotch. Which wasn't even unzipped. "Won't happen
again."

   Silence between them was broken ten minutes later when Steve suddenly
said, "Was I drooling? I'm not!"

   "Yes you were," Ronan said, smiling to himself almost in
satisfaction. "Yes you were, Steo."




THREE

They staggered into Sans Diodhrean late dusk. Steo almost sobbed in relief
when he saw the town they were approaching. "Bed! Shower!" he said, "Hot
food!"

   Ronan didn't look too well himself. "Considering our luck, whatever
motels there are in that damned place are probably full."

   Steo had had enough. He stopped and pulled his cap off his head. Ronan
watched, bemused, as Steo threw the cap to the ground and waved a crumpled
road map in his face. "'Our luck'? My ass!" said Steo. "It's all your
fault.  I said we should've chosen that nice little Volks, but no, you
wanted that Datsun.  Which went dead on us three hours down the road! I
said we wait till the car is repaired, but no, you wanna play hitch
hiker. I said take the left turning, but no, we have to get lost
instead. If all motels are full, I'm gonna kill you!"

   Ronan picked up the cap, dusted it, and put it on his head. "OK, maybe
we should've taken the right turn. Come on dear, let's go find a place to
sleep."


There were no motels in the little fishing town. "Tourists don't need
motels.  They come in trailers or camp," a matronly storekeeper informed
them. "Say, aren't you that Ronan Keating singer fellow? Agnes! Agnes' my
daughter! Agnes!  Hey, where are you going? Come back! Take a photo..."



"I thought people won't recognize me," Ronan said as they trekked up the
hill path to the country lodge that night, both of them armed with
flashlights. "Told my manager no bodyguards, nobody is likely to recognize
me without my posh make-up and designer clothes."

   Steo wiped sweat off his forehead and looked miserably at his almost
empty water canteen. "You should've stayed and persuade the Mayor. With
your star status they'll get us a helicopter to fly us up here. Or carry us
on their back." He drank the last of his water. "I feel as if I've just
walked across the Sahara fucking desert."

   "Star status is not to be abused," Ronan told him loftily, the effect
ruined by a grimace when he stepped on a rock. "OK, so I spoiled our road
trip. Next time we'll get Brendan to loan us his private plane."

   "Shit!" Steo's flashlight flickered, then went dead. "What next? Grizzly
bears?"

   "Don't worry. Mine's still working." Ronan looked at the written
directions given to him from a star struck restaurant owner. "The lodge
will be just right...  ahead...oh God."

   "Oh God. I thought you said it was a castle."

   "My uncle's a miser. Probably the smallest hovel is a mansion to him."

   Both of them stood gaping at the small hunting lodge before them. In the
moonlight it looked positively run-down. Whatever fencing remained around
had either been tangled in overgrowth or lost long, long before. The lodge
itself looked like a haunted place, dark and positively reeking of ruin.

   "You think there's a toilet in there or do I have to get a shovel?"
Steve asked.

   "It should be well-furnished according to the lawyers," Ronan said,
swallowing whatever indecision he felt. "Come on, we're here already. Let's
just go in. I think it's not that bad! Things always look worse in
moonlight."

   "You got it wrong, Ro." Steo sighed and continued walking. "Things
looked better in moonlight, not worst. I hate to think what I'll see when I
wake up tomorrow."

   "You can look at me then." Ronan fumbled with a bunch of keys. His face
was lost in darkness.

   Steo's heart had stopped beating when Ronan said those words. You can
look at me then. The silence of the woods, with only the soft songs of
insects to indicate life, and the coldness of the night air had ceased to
torment him.  Instead, he wondered if the world heard the accelerated
thundering of his heartbeat.

   He really shouldn't place too much meaning in Ronan's words.

   Ronan is straight. He kept hammering himself with that simple statement,
hoping his heart would get the message where his unruly lions wouldn't. He
watched as Ronan opened the door, and numbly picked up his bags to go in.
Ronan is straight... Ronan is straight... oh yes, straight is nice... stop
that! Steo wondered what Ronan would think if he dashed his head against
the door.



Thankfully there was electricity, generated by a motor in a shed somewhere
behind the lodge. And a shower, though minus hot water, with an irritating
tendency to require half an hour for the tank to refill after a shower
before the next could be taken.

   Steo stood before the window, watching as thunderstorm raged outside. It
had started to pour only a few minutes before, and turned into a raging
torrent in only minutes. In the cold night air, water condensed on the
outer surface, clouding the outside world from his view. Not that it
mattered. The wheels of his mind was in full gear, the mischievous part of
him suggesting he seduce Ronan, the saintly side warning him such an action
would destroy a friendship that had lasted more than a decade. Steo
groaned, suddenly feeling utterly, totally alone in this god-
fucking-damned world.

   "Are you okay, Steo?"

   Steo looked up. He could barely see the reflection in the misted glass
but it was enough. Ronan had walked out of the shower, clad in jeans that
rode low on his hips. It was all he could do to keep his tongue in his
mouth as he watched Ronan rubbed away the water drops on his upper
body. What he couldn't see clearly, he provided from memory - the feel of
the rough cloth rubbing against those smooth skin, clearing away cool
moisture... he clenched his fists tight as he tried to regain control of
himself. But oh, to have his fingers and tongue follow the trail of the
towel, feeling the tight supple skin, gently caressing and touching the
hard muscles just below the flesh! To start at the neck, following the
curve of the nape, perhaps lingering to trace the fine veins, before down,
down to the pectoral muscles. Steo swallowed, almost feeling himself
following the collarbone, licking away the moisture with his tongue. Down
along the valley bisecting the chest, lingering at those nipples, erect in
the cold. Oh yes, one would die of ecstasy feasting on those tempting buds
alone. Then down along the abdomen, tracing those ridges of muscles, his
tongue cleaning every valley, every ridge...

   "Steo?" Ronan came closer.

   Stay away, Steo's mind screamed. Oh yes, closer baby, his bludgeoning
erection seemed to call.

   "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're upset, this place is a dump, I
know... but I thought, you know."

   Ronan was too close.

   Steo took a deep, ragged breath. Control. He hadn't been this close to
losing control since high school jock Bobby Roin played strip poker with
him years ago.  "It's raining Ronan." He tried to clear his mind, send
Ronan away. "Can you go see if the heater's working?"

   Ronan could be an irritant at times. And he never listened. Steo almost
jumped out of his skin when Ronan came up behind him and wrapped his arms
around Steo's waist. "Oh God!" he exclaimed, wondering if he could die
happy now that he had feel Ronan's naked upper torso against his back.

   The shirt Steo was wearing suddenly felt inadequate, too thin. He could
feel Ronan's erect nipples burning, boring into his back, and those sleek
muscles wrapping him into a cocoon of ecstasy.

   "I'm sorry Steo. I thought you would enjoy yourself here," Ronan
whispered, looking out to misted window. "Spend some alone, two friends,
that kind of thing.  It's been awhile since we do anything together after
all."

   You can do me, Steo wanted to say.

   "We'll go back to town and make arrangements to leave, if you'd like,"
Ronan said.

   Tell him.

   Ruin friendship.

   Probably make Ronan hate him too.

   Steo weighed all these in his mind. Ronan was one of his few friends
that made the loneliness bearable. If he wanted Ronan to be more than
friends, to touch Steo with the affection and need Steo so desperately
craved, should it just be best to be left to fantasy.

   Feeling the heavy bulge in Ronan's jeans pressing into his buttocks did
it.  Steo lost control. He turned around and wrapped his arms around
Ronan. Taking a deep breath he pulled Ronan's mouth to meet his.

   Ronan stood still, probably in shock. "Damn it, kiss me!" Steo
whispered, roughly forcing his lips between Ronan's, rubbing his tongue
along Ronan's lips, coaxing him to open, open, open, and just kiss me, damn
it.

   Ronan didn't move.

   Despair tore at Steo, almost making him howl in pain. He'd done it. Led
by his unruly cock, he'd destroyed their friendship.

   "Damn you Steo." Then Ronan's arms came up and pulled Steo into a warm,
crushing embrace and their lips met. Steo almost choked in pleasure when
Ronan's tongue insinuated into his mouth, their tongues dancing around in a
sensual serpentine rhythm of writhing, rubbing, coiling, and feeling. He
tilted his head for the taller Ronan to explore his mouth fully, arching
his back and letting himself drown in Ronan's embrace.

   Steo arched his neck, moaning softly as Ronan now licked the skin of his
neck.  He ran his palms down Ronan's back, feeling the warm skin burning
his palms, and hesitated when his fingers touched Ronan's waistband. He
felt Ronan froze, but there was no mistaking the way the latter pressed his
erection urgently at the juncture of Steo's thighs.

   Steo reached for Ronan's zipper even as Ronan now cupped Steo's face in
his hands and kissed him again, hard. Steo's hands trembled, but they
managed to pull Ronan's jeans down his hips. His blood boiled with the need
of fulfillment, and fuck if he knew how he got his own jeans off, but when
Ronan lifted his mouth from Steo's, they both looked down at the juncture
of their bodies.

   Steo looked at Ronan's thick, throbbing cock, the wet moist tip lodged
amidst the center of the pucker of Steo's anus. Steo felt the cock flex,
throb, then he lifted his legs, wrapping them around Ro's torso even as Ro,
a glazed look on his face, began pushing himself up Steo, inch by inch.

   Steo threw his head back and gave a cry of joy, relief, and pain as Ro
filled him slowly, stretching him painfully. He balanced himself, placing
his hands on the windowsill and letting Ro sit him on the window ledge.

   Ronan placed his forehead against Steo's chin, breathing harshly as they
both soaked in the sensation of Ronan embedded so deep up Steo that Steo
could feel the man's rough pubic bush brushing his own testicles. "Steo,"
he heard Ronan murmur, and felt the man's right hand caressing his cheek.

   "Shut up and fuck me, damn you," Steo whispered, digging his fingers
into Ronan's buttocks and urged him on with one hard thrust of his groin
down at that cock impaling him.

   Ronan needed no further urging.

   Steo placed his head against the glass, biting his teeth and closing his
eyes tight against the wild ebbs of pain and pleasure sweeping through
him. Ronan pumped him hard, his hands holding Steo's thighs around him,
each thrust causing Steo to rattle the window frame.

   At length Steo watched Ronan's eyes glazed from disbelief to pleasure,
then he was groaning loudly, emptying himself in one final plunge up his
best friend.



FOUR

"I can't believe I just ejaculated up my best friend," Ronan shouted
weakly, before reaching for the toilet bowl and throwing up again for the
second time.  "Sorry," he said weakly.

   Steo handed him a towel in silence.

   "Look, I'm sorry," Ronan said. "I just don't know what had gotten over
me."

   "I know. Temporary insanity," Steo murmured softly, closing his eyes
warily. He refused to feel any pain.

   "Yeah, that's it," Ronan said gratefully, pulling his bathrobe around
him as he walked out of the bathroom.

   Steo handed him a glass of water.

   "Talk to me, Steo," Ronan said after a grateful gulp. He
frowned. "What?"

   "Nothing." Steo just wanted to lie down and die. Maybe if he wished hard
enough he would wake up and realize that all this was just a nightmare. And
he refused to give Ronan the satisfaction of seeing him break down and
cry. No way.

   "You are so fucking stupid, you know that, Ro?" he couldn't help saying,
however, before walking off to his bedroom. He slammed the door hard.



FIVE

Two weeks later

Stephen woke up to see Ronan sitting beside his bed two weeks later. At
first neither of them spoke. Ronan sat there, silent, his hands folded
under his chin as he glared accusingly at Steo, as if he blamed Steo for
some hurt the man caused in him.

   "How did you get in here?" Steo asked, making to sit up until he
realized he was naked underneath his sheets. He hesitated.

   "No, get up. Why are you so scared of letting me see you naked? Think
I'll jump your bones?"

   The last sentence was said in a low, suggestive tone that sent a thrill
up Steo's spine. Hell, Steo was having an erection right now.

   "And I asked the building supervisor to unlock your front door for me."
Ronan moved, straightening his right leg and placing his bare foot right
over Steo's left thigh, thus preventing Steo from moving away. "You left me
stranded in Ireland and never returned my calls. I want to know why."

   Steo jumped at the underlying edge of barely restrained temper in Ro's
voice. "I thought you don't want to see me again."

   "Since when did you start deciding how or what I will feel?"

   Steo felt his temper rising. "Look, you threw up and told me to 'forget
it' when I tried to talk to you about… about that night. What am I to
expect?"

   "I don't know." Ronan sighed and looked away, deflated. "I really don't
know.  Look, I'm confused, okay? I mean, I now don't really know who I am
anymore.  Cut me some slack, okay?"

   "Okay," Steo said. He couldn't bear it, seeing Ronan looking this
way. "I'm sorry."

   "And stop apologizing. Gosh, you're whiny." Ronan stood up. "Is there
any good food around the house?"

   Steo winced when lights flooded the room. Trust Ronan to ignore the fact
that he was trying to sleep. He watched Ronan rummage through the fridge
for a while before taking pity on the man. "I don't have anything in there
or in the pantry. I'm afraid you have to deal with some eggs in the
pantry."

   Ronan cast him a dirty look. "Eggs it is."


"Why did you run away?" Ronan asked later after he had cleaned away the
dishes.

   Steo hadn't moved from his bed. Stupid really, but he didn't dare
move. Not that he cared. Watching Ronan efficiently frying the egg, his
rolled-up shirt- sleeves exposing his arms, was enough for him to pass the
time. Ronan moved in brisk strides, each stride causing the pale blue
slacks to stretch taut against smooth gentle curves of buttocks and
thighs. And Steo remembered so well running his hands along those curves.

   He remembered everything, the feel of Ronan's cock thrusting in and out
of him, and the way the man's cock harden even more right before it spilled
its seminal juices up Steo's anus. And he had dreamed of that night each
night, waking up in pure frustration.

   He missed Ro, he loved Ro, and he cursed the day he was stupid enough to
let Ro have him.

   Yet now Ro was in his house, making himself at home. Steo felt the slow
burn of hope in him, which he tried not to encourage.

   "Why did you come here?" Steo asked in return.

   "I've been thinking," Ronan said, pouring himself some milk. "And I
realize that I missed you. A lot."

   "Well, I missed you too if it makes you feel any better."

   "I'm trying to be sentimental here, which isn't easy, so can you just
not fucking interrupt?" Ronan said sharply. Upon Steo's arch look, he
continued, "As I'm saying, I'd like you to know that I like you. I don't
know why, for you complain, whine, and bitch all the time, and most of the
time you're a pain in the ass, but I really like you. You're the only guy I
know that I like talking and being with. And I don't see why us sleeping
together has to change that."

   "No it doesn't," Steo agreed quickly. He would burn inside and probably
die day by day denying that night had ever happened, but if he would have
Ronan in his life again, he would do so three times over. He couldn't bear
his lonely life otherwise.

   All of a sudden Ronan jumped onto Steo's bed, landing heavily beside
Steo who had just rolled out of the way in time.

   "Hey, if the bed collapses you're fucking paying for a new one!" Steo
yelled.

   Ronan merely smiled and looked at Steo, a glimmer of mischief in his
eyes.  "And hell, if I have to sleep with you to continue being your
friend, I'll do it." He suddenly pounced, grabbing Steo by the man's
shoulders and pulling the latter over to straddle him.

   "You don't have to fuck me to have my friendship," Steo started to say,

   Ronan made a disgusted sound. "It's no hardship. You're a damned good
lay.  Best I can think of, in fact, and once I got over my initial
surprise, I must admit I really enjoy it."

   "Really?" The proof, however, was in that huge bulge now pressing
against Steo's stomach.

   "Yeah. You'll have to teach me though, I'm pretty new to all this."
Ronan smiled. "Why say you, Steo?"

   "You'll be a quick learner, I bet," Steo murmured, bending over to kiss
Ro.


EPILOGUE

"So how is life so far?" Tobey Maguire, one of Steo's closer friends,
asked.

   "I'm getting used to it," Ronan said. His fingers went to his lips,
rubbing the lower lip as his face blushed at a memory of what Steo taught
him last night. "It's not that bad."

   Tobey looked away, not wanting to let the man see the smile on his
face. Wait until he tell Jeremy who had always disliked Ronan this. "So you
won't be suing me for bad advice, I guess?"

   "You're right. You ask me to think and I did. Steo's the most important
thing in my life. And sleeping with him feels right, you know?" Ronan
smiled to himself gently. "I don't know, I mean, I'm still not attracted to
guys, but somehow with Steo I just -- it's like I've been waiting for him
all my life."

   Ronan turned his smile on Tobey, who was oblivious to its devastating
effects.  Tobey was oblivious to everything. "Thanks Tob, for making me go
after Steo. It's enough to make me forgive you for egging Brendan to
indulge Steo when he begged him to get him away from me."

   "No problem."

   Tobey waited until Ronan was out of the restaurant, then dialed Jeremy's
number on his phone. "Jeremy? Tobey here. Guess what? Prepare to pay up.
Tell the other guys too. I've won the bet."

   Life was good. Tobey looked outside the window and saw, across the
street, Ronan walking up to Steo and taking that man's hand in his. "I
could use some of that," he thought somewhat wistfully. Then again, maybe
with a little less sugar.