Gareth and Phil
by Alexander


Chapter 16

They were sat at a pool-side table, and judging by the number of empty Coke bottles had been there some time. After the introductions we ordered some more refreshments and got to know each other. The boys soon became bored with our conversation and went off to swim. Mike and I ditched the soft drinks and ordered a brace of beers. He was an easy-going guy and good fun to be with I soon found out and we chatted for ages, not realising how quickly the time went. We were reminded though when the boys returned, full of life after their swim, and hungry of course. Moving to the dining room we ordered a quick meal and carried on our conversations.

I took the opportunity whilst eating to look at Pete. For a 13-year-old, he was average in build with a shock of black hair, usually curly, but rather flatter now as it was still wet. He had an oval-shaped face with those luscious red lips where the top one curves up slightly, ‘Cupid’s bow’ I think they are called. As you would expect, he had a deep, even tan which accentuated his hair and good looks. On closer examination I noticed that his legs and arms were covered in fine downy hair, black like the hair on his head. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had hair anywhere else, but the chances of finding out I put at zero. Gareth might have more luck I thought with a smile: I must remember to ask him one day.

On our way home later, Gareth told me that he got on OK with Pete and they were going to see each other again on Sunday for a swim, or whatever. That was fine by me as Mike and I had also arranged to meet as well. We got together that Sunday, and regularly after that as we became better friends: Mike and I got on well together, as did Pete and Gareth.

Pete became a regular visitor to the flat in a short space of time, which I was pleased about as it gave them both something to do and somewhere to go apart from the club. Between us we converted one of the unused rooms into a sort of games room, which was handy for Gareth as well as it meant he could do his drawing and painting in there as well. It wasn’t unusual for me to get home in the middle of the afternoon and find them both engrossed in either drawing or computer games, completely wrapped up in worlds of their own making.

Gareth, being the sort of character that he was, soon adapted his way of life to accommodate Pete, and Pete his to some extent. The first time I really noticed this was one day when I got indoors and they were both in their swimming things sat on the balcony sipping soft drinks. I instantly got a mental flashback of the days when we would strip off in the old flat and wander round in our underwear, or less, with or without Jake. I smiled slightly at Gareth who guessed what I was thinking. He grinned ever so slightly and shook his head a little, telling me not to dare go down that road. I did his favourite thing when he was being made fun of, stuck the tip of my tongue out at him and went to get myself a drink. Pete ignored our little interchange and simply said “Hi!”

It was a couple of weeks after this that I had an even bigger surprise. It was a Friday; Gareth and Pete had been out all day somewhere or other and I was in the lounge reading when they both burst in the front door. Gareth was carrying a large parcel which he took with him into the games room, with Pete close behind. I heard them both giggling in the room and wondered idly what they were up to. I found out a few minutes later when they re-appeared, now wearing the accepted dress of swimming shorts. Gareth was holding a framed picture in his hands with its back to me so I couldn’t see what it was.

I recognised the excited sparkle in his eyes as he smiled and said, “I’ve got a present for you.” He

turned to Pete and they grinned wickedly at each other before turning the picture round for me to see: it was the one I’d asked him to do for me ages ago, of him posing naked like the ‘David’ statue. It was brilliant, and so life-like I stared in awe. I’d forgotten Pete for a moment as I mentally compared the picture with the body I knew so well – I couldn’t fault it except for one thing, which I would mention to Gareth later when we were alone. Alone! Suddenly I remembered that Pete was there and must have seen the picture as well. I looked from one to the other confused.

They knew exactly what they were doing of course, and were thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. Desperately I tried to think of something appropriate to say.

“Very good, I like that,” was all I could lamely come up with.

They both giggled again and I stared at them. Was I wrong, or could I see the beginnings of erections on them both? Gareth I could tell immediately was getting hard, but as I had nothing to judge Pete by, I assumed that he was either very well endowed or he too was starting to bone up.

Gareth rested the picture against the wall and came to sit on the arm of the chair alongside me. Together we examined the picture and I again told him how good it was. To my astonishment he leaned over and giving a quick glance at Pete, kissed me on the cheek firmly.

“Thanks,” he whispered, “I’m glad you like it.”

Pete wasn’t at all put out by Gareth’s little display it seemed, almost as if he was expecting it. He stood there smiling at us both.

We settled down on the patio after a while, the two boys sitting together chattering whilst I continued with my book, glancing at the picture once in a while. It was a peaceful afternoon with the three of us whiling away the time, chatting once in a while but otherwise each of us doing our own thing. Early evening came round, and Pete had to make his way home, saying on his way out that he’d almost forgotten to pass on a message from his dad to say that he’d be in the club later for a drink if we wanted to join him.

Once he’d left, Gareth came across and stood behind me, massaging my neck and shoulders gently. I moved my hands up to his and held them lightly as they eased away the slight tension in my muscles. I leaned backwards and smiled softly at him. Looking at me with his doe-like eyes he bent down and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“OK, mate?” I sighed.

“Yeah, fine.” he replied. “It’s nice to be by ourselves for a bit though.”

I grasped his wrist and pulled him round the lounger, lay him down with his head in my lap and stroked his hair. I knew him well enough to know that he wanted a bit of TLC and I was more than happy to provide it. Smiling slightly he tucked his knees up to his chest, stuck his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes. I picked up the tube of sunblock, spread a good measure of it on his legs and rubbed it in for him as he dozed, watching as it disappeared into his soft skin. He sighed contentedly, pressed his head into my groin and slept.

I must have dropped off too as it was an hour later that I opened my eyes as Gareth turned over,

stretched out full length on the lounger and looked at me.

“It’s nice here,” he said. “I’m glad we came.”

“Mmmm, so am I,” I agreed and stroked his cheeks lightly. “No regrets then?”

“No, none at all. Couldn’t be better, could it?”

“Nope. I think this is probably as good as it gets, just as long as you’re happy. What do you make of Pete?” I asked conversationally. “Like him?”

“Yeah. He’s OK. I think he was lonely until we came. He’s a bit sort of clingy sometimes, but that’s OK, I don’t mind. He’s a good swimmer.”

We chatted idly for ages about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. Gareth’s hand had wandered to his groin and he was gently rubbing his cock and balls with the palm of his hand as we talked, not in any sexual sort of way though, just a comfort sort of thing. I pushed it out of the way, rested my hand on his cock and stroked it with my thumb. He wriggled slightly to give me a bit more room and sighed. His cock didn’t harden in the slightest, a sure sign he was completely relaxed and content.

“Pete’s cock is nice,” he said inconsequentially.

“You seen it then?”

“Yeah. We mess about a bit sometimes. He likes it.”

“Randy little sod!” I said, giving his dick a slight squeeze. “Lucky one though!”

He opened his eyes, grinned, and closed them again.

I wasn’t in the least surprised at his news and neither was I put out by it. He needed someone else

apart from me to pal around with and whether it was a boy or girl didn’t matter in the slightest in one sense, but I knew he would be happier with a boy. I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

“What’s he like doing?” I asked. I wasn’t prying into his affairs: he knew that, I was just curious.

“BJ’s and wanking. He used to go to a boarding school and he started there.”

“Anything else?”

He opened his eyes again and shook his head. “Nope,” he said firmly. We both knew what I meant: our agreement still stood.

Gareth got up and seated himself in my lap, locking his arms round my neck. He leaned in and kissed me deeply, running his fingers through my hair. I kissed him back, allowing my tongue to explore and find his.

“Let’s get undressed,” he whispered.

We lay back on the lounger with him laying out on top of me, our burgeoning dicks arranged side by side and continued with our smooching. Once again, there wasn’t any real sexual aspect to this: it was much better when we were naked as the feel of skin against skin seemed to make our loving far better and much more enjoyable for us both.

“Let’s not go out tonight,” he said between kisses. “I don’t feel like it. Let’s stay in.”

We were both getting really aroused by now and I was half inclined to agree with him, but seeing as it was quite early yet, and I fancied a beer and chat with Mike anyway, I put him off.

“You haven’t got to come, you can stay here if you like.”

He thought about it for a second then said, “No. I’d better come with you. I don’t trust you – you’ll

only try and seduce Pete if I’m not there.” He giggled, gave my dick a short painful squeeze and kissed me hard.

“Hey!” I said suddenly remembering something and squeezing his balls in return to emphasise my point.


“That picture you painted for me.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You didn’t put any hair on your balls.”

He laughed and gave me a hug. “There’s a reason.”

I looked at him intrigued. He slid off my body and lay alongside, one arm under my neck and the other across my chest. I sensed the mood change: he was being serious now.

“When we first got together in Milton Keynes, I didn’t have any hair round my balls and I wanted a reminder of me and you in those days. I drew my prick a bit too big, but that doesn’t matter, it’s just a sort of secret for us. I did the rest of me like I am now so’s we can see that I’ve changed since then.”

I hadn’t thought of that and was amazed that Gareth had. I looked into his eyes, whispered a ‘thank you’ to him and hugged him.

“There’s something else as well,” he went on quietly. “Those twisted spirally flower things I did around the edge are supposed to represent two people in love with each other and who can’t live apart. I forget what they’re called, but all the best Greek pictures had them on.”

Once again, Gareth had astounded me, not only with the depth of his knowledge, but the utterly amazing ability he had to show our love for each other in the most incredible ways. I didn’t even try to speak, I just gazed into his face, kissed him properly and gave him another hug.

He returned it passionately, his body trembling with emotion, head buried on my shoulder. He may have shed a tear or two, I didn’t know and didn’t look, the background he’d just given me about the picture was enough.

“Come on,” I whispered trying to change the mood, “We’d better get dressed and go out before I drag you off to bed and have my wicked way with you.”

“Piss off!” her grinned cheerfully, “You can have me later if you’re good.”

We showered and dressed together, Gareth having a wicked thought and getting us both togged out in the matching T-shirts and shorts we’d bought in England.

“People will think we’re lovers, not brothers,” I laughed as we put them on.

“So? I don’t give a shit!” he said, half-joking but with a definite serious edge to it.

I looked at him and could tell he meant what he said. Oddly enough, I didn’t give a shit either. We headed off to join Mike and Pete in a gloriously happy mood.

For once we beat them to the club, and by way of a little celebratory drink, I bought us both beers. I noticed with not a little pride that we seemed to attract quite a bit of attention from the other ex-pats as we chatted and sipped our drinks; that outfit of Gareth’s certainly brought out the best in him. I gave him a 20 pound note (the local currency is the Egyptian pound) and told him that it was for his first commission, the painting was well worth it. He grinned and put it away.

Mike and Pete were surprised too when they joined us, but thinking quickly, I explained that we’d been celebrating a private anniversary and let it go at that.

Although Mike and I had a good evening and talked a lot about home and work and so on, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Pete, knowing what I did about him. I kept wondering what he was like under those clothes and how lucky Gareth was to meet someone like him so easily. Gareth knew what I was doing of course and despite his earlier warning was in fact enjoying the situation. Pete also had noticed what I was doing, and was looking just a bit nervous. Before it became a problem though, Gareth whisked him off somewhere and when they returned he was happier, even managing to give me a sly, cock-hardening wink as he clasped his hands in his groin, pointing one thumb upwards in an unmistakable imitation of what lay below.

It didn’t occur to me until later when we were strolling home that the picture hadn’t been brought up during the evening. I mentioned this to Gareth and he told me that when he took Pete off to one side he told him not to talk about it, reasoning that his father might not like the subject matter. I also told him why you kept looking at him the way you did – I had to, you were freaking him out Gareth laughed.

“That explains a lot,” I said, and went on to tell him about the wink and his hands in his groin.

“Do you fancy him?” Gareth asked.

“No, not in the slightest,” I replied.

“Liar!” he said, digging me in the ribs and grinning. “You’d have the pants off him in no time if you could.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I lied. “Well, maybe I just might if I was given the chance.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gareth joked. “Anything to help a poor old man!”

By this time we were back at the house and as I put the kettle on to make some tea, Gareth shot off somewhere. When he joined me in the kitchen, he’d shed most of his clothes and was wearing those red briefs again.

“I’ve hidden that picture under the spare bed wrapped in a sheet,” he said. “Pete reminded me that the maid might not like seeing it laying around.”

“Christ yes!” I said, “Hadn’t thought of that.”

He put his arms round my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder, watching as I made the tea.

“Got anything to eat?” he said, letting me go and heading towards the fridge.

This was despite constantly snacking all evening on bits and pieces from the bar top as well as a plate of French fries.

Once we’d got our supplies organised, I picked the tray up and went to the living room.

“Indoors or out?” I asked.

“Out,” was the definite reply. It was still very hot and he was probably right.

Setting the tray down on the table, Gareth went back in the living room and turned all the lights off, leaving the patio in darkness.

“That’s better,” he said as he took his briefs off before sitting down. “It’s nice out here like this with all the lights off.”

I had to agree with him. Once we were seated, we could be alone in the universe for all that it mattered: the only things we could see were the moon and stars in a cloudless sky. Even the ever-present traffic noise seemed to disappear as we star-gazed.

It seemed we were here for the night and so I stripped down to my briefs to make myself comfortable and was just about to sit down again when Gareth pointed at my one remaining item of clothing and said, “Them as well.”

I grinned, did as I was told and cuddled up to him.

“Just a bit better than Milton Keynes, isn’t it,” I mused.

“Yeah, just a little,” he replied, snuggling up closer. “It seems a life-time away now, like some sort of dream. Not a very nice one either.” He shuddered as he said that, probably at the remembrance of some unpleasant memory.

“Have you written to anybody at home yet?” I asked.

“Yeah, just the other day.”

I looked at him. “Well. I was going to. I will soon, promise.”

“You haven’t got to, It’s down to you. Only do it if you want, but it’d be a shame not to keep in touch.”

“Mmmmmm.” was the only response, but I knew he’d write home soon, all it wanted was a gentle prod.

We turned over onto our backs, staring up at the sky once more.

“Six,” Gareth said after about an hour.

“Sex?” I said, turning to him.

“No, six, number six. I’ve seen six shooting stars.”

“Oh, right,” I replied, only half interested.

He turned sideways on to me, threw his leg over mine and lay his head on the cushion. I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh and looked at him.

“What you thinking about?” I said, running a finger down the length of his dick.

He opened his eyes and stared at me. “Guess.” he said softly and kissed me.

We embraced and cuddled for a while, kissing deeply, our hands roaming freely over each other.

Taking a breather, he twisted a lock of my hair in his fingers and started to nibble at my ear. This is one of my weak spots as Gareth knows, and I wriggled in pleasure. Suddenly he stopped and whispered something.

“What?” I said, not hearing what he’d said very clearly.

“I wouldn’t mind you know.”

“Mind what?” I said, trying to think what bit of the conversation I’d missed.

“People knowing about us.”

I came to full consciousness with a jolt, suddenly wide awake.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m getting pissed off with having to keep everything so bloody secret and I don’t see why we have to.”

“What’s brought this on?” I said, wrapping an arm round him.

“Dunno really, tonight I suppose. Your comment about me being a brother and not a lover, and then having to take Pete away from the table to tell him I’d told you about him and me, and all that sort of thing. I could understand having to do it at home in England, but out here I thought we were going to start all over again. And no one knows us here, so why not?”

“But I’m years older than you are, and people mightn’t like it.”

“So? Sod ’em. If they don’t like it, it’s their problem not ours. I’m just really pissed off trying to keep it all secret not being able to tell anybody the truth when they ask.”

I hadn’t thought of that aspect before: I’d never been challenged in that way, but I suppose Gareth must have come across it almost daily, if not here then certainly in England.

“OK, then,” I said, “Assuming we tell people, what next? What do we say about how we met and

when we started doing things? That might not prove to be so forgiveable. And what about your dad when you were living at home? Want people to know about that as well? Don’t get me wrong, I really wish we could be honest with people, but I’m worried about you and what they might think.”

He drew circles on my chest with his fingers as he thought.

“We could still be brothers,” he said slowly, “And say we’ve lived together for ages. If they want to think we do stuff together, then let ’em. If anyone asks, then we tell ’em. It’s up to them then if they still want to be friends with us. The important thing is that I don’t want us to be a secret any more.”

I must admit he had a valid point. I hadn’t had the courage up until now to be quite as up-front as I would have liked to have been, but Gareth was right, we were trying to start a new life together and it wouldn’t be any good unless we were honest with people right from the start.

I thought for about ten minutes before saying, “OK. I think you’re right. We’ll start tomorrow. Right now in fact. But promise me one thing?”


“Don’t start by telling the whole world whether they want to hear it or not!”

“Dickhead! What do you think I am, stupid?” he said, now visibly happier.

“What about Pete? How much does he know?”

“Oh, he’s guessed already. Hasn’t said much about it though, he just sort of knows that I know that he knows.”

Having worked my way round his words, I said, “But how?”

“Oh, come on Phil!” Gareth said exasperated, “Pete isn’t stupid. He comes to our flat almost every day, sees only one bedroom being used, sees only one bed made up, sees all our clothes in the same room, sees……….”

“OK, OK, I get your point,” I laughed. “So that’s one person you can cross off your list of people who should be told about us!”

“Piss off!” he grinned. “But seriously though, I’m glad we haven’t got to keep it a secret any more. I feel a lot better now.”

“So do I Gareth. Believe me, so do I.”

“There’s only one thing I can’t explain to anyone though,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.


“How much I love you!”

Before I could even think of a reply, he kissed me ferociously and deeply, holding me as tight as he possibly could, his arms locked together behind my neck.

Once he’d let go, we stared up at the sky together: it truly was a beautiful night, the stars twinkling brightly through the moisture in my eyes.

“Hey, you!” I said, giving Gareth a dig in the ribs.

“What? he replied, lifting his head up.

“Will you still love me when I’m an old man?”

“What do you mean ‘when’?” he giggled. “No one told you? You’re there already.”

We wrestled around for a bit before he straddled me and sat on my stomach, smiling gently.

“Can I?” he whispered.

I nodded.

I lifted my legs up for him as he positioned himself carefully. With a satisfying groan he slid his well-lubricated dick as far up me as it would go. I dropped my knees to his waist and locked my ankles behind him. We stayed frozen like that for ages, just savouring the sensations. I swear I could feel every heart-beat of Gareth through his swollen dick filling my insides, as he must be sensing mine through the coolness of his hands handing cradling my own dick and balls.

Infinitely slowly he started to thrust himself to and fro, extracting every last drop of sensual delight as he moved, each thrust being accompanied by a satisfying sigh. I reached up and caressed his hardened nipples gently between my fingers, surprised at how big they grew, and just how sensitive they were. He was gasping by now, the effort of forcing himself to take it slowly and easily bringing beads of sweat to his forehead. I pushed his hair back out of his eyes, wiped the perspiration off with a finger and licked it clean. Even his sweat tasted good. Gareth was completely oblivious to anything except the intensity of the emanations arising from his groin, his hands now on my knees, gripping them firmly.

His pace hadn’t varied in the slightest all the time he was inside me; a slow, steady, heart-stopping rhythm, first inwards as far as he could, then outwards as far as he could. Rest and repeat. Rest and repeat. Even when his cock throbbed with the force of ejaculation, his regular thrusting hardly changed, each passionate, desperate thrust seemingly producing one intense spurt of boiling-hot cum. He’d never orgasmed quite like this before, slowly and with such intense control; it must have taken fantastic self-control to do it, more than ever I could manage I was sure.

As he ejected his last, solid stream of cum, he shuddered violently, arched his back and fell forwards into my arms, jerking madly. He let out two low feral moans and fainted. For five minutes I hugged him loosely waiting for him to re-join us, stroking his hair, his back, his butt all the while.

With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, looked at me and grinned. “That was fucking awesome!”

“Yeah, I could tell!” I said, the relief coming though in my voice. I kissed him deeply, feeling the

coldness of the sweat on his face.

“I hate it when you do that,” I whispered.

“Bollocks!” he replied, “You love it.”

I shook my head, knowing that I’d never change him, and probably didn’t even want to if the truth be known. It wouldn’t be the Gareth I know and love.

We slept like two lambs for what was left of that night. In many ways we’d had quite a stressful day without realising it, ending with a Gareth Spectacular, which was nearly as hard on my nerves as his.

Work the following day was difficult; I found it next to impossible to concentrate. I decided to give up doing anything which needed any sort of serious attention and just did the filing and routine stuff.

I was having coffee with the boss when he looked at me and said, “Rough night?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I answered. “Didn’t think it showed so much.”

He laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “That boy of yours getting too much?”

I looked at him startled. What did he mean? How much did he know?

He laughed again and said, “Don’t worry. What you do is entirely your affair. It doesn’t concern me in the slightest. Unless it affects your work,” he added still smiling, “And so far it hasn’t.”

“You know then?” I said quietly.

“No, not really. I just assumed. Until just now that is.” he was still smiling, which was a good sign and I felt a bit less stressed out.

“Your not the first person in the world, you won’t be the last, and there are a good many others in

between,” he said. “Personally, I don’t go that way, but maybe I’m the unlucky one. Your lad is

certainly a looker.”

“You don’t mind then?” I checked.

“Not in the slightest, Phil.”

Taking a deep breath, I told him the gist of what Gareth and I had decided last night, grateful in fact for having someone I could talk to about it.

“He’s right, of course,” the boss said, “Wonder you didn’t do anything about it yourself first.”

“Scared, I suppose. Scared of what people might think, and scared of losing Gareth.” This was probably very true I realised, but it was the first time I’d put it into words.

We talked around me and Gareth for a good half-hour, me grateful for the chance to get a few things out in the open for the first time, and him glad of a conversation outside of work for once. We ended up shaking hands and better friends. I settled down to work once more, feeling more like meeting the days problems head on.

“Only one piece of advice,” the boss said, “Don’t mistake the friendliness of the natives. They can live with this sort of thing, just like we do, but there are a few religious hard-liners that might make life difficult for a foreigner if it becomes too obvious.”

It was with a much lighter heart that I met up with Gareth later that day, and because I was in such a good mood took us both out for a meal at the Mena House.

Over the meal I told him about the conversation I’d had with Dave, and in particular the reminder about the locals. Gareth, who had spent more time than I had getting to know the place, had already discovered this, but had the grace not to make an issue of it. He also told me that he’d told Pete about us.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Oh, he already knew, like I told you.” Gareth said, taking a mouthful of food. “Told you he’d be OK.”

“And his dad?”

“Down to us. He won’t tell him.”

Gareth seemed to be taking the whole thing a lot less seriously than me, not lightly, but more

philosophically certainly. I envied him, being the natural worrier that I was.

“Only one more thing, and then we’ll change the subject,” I said over the ginger ice-cream and Kirsch.

“Mmmmmm?” was the response through a mouthful of sweet.

“England? You going to tell them?”

“Mmmmm,” he nodded. He swallowed his ice-cream and carried on, “Thought about that. We’re

fucked if we do and we’re fucked if we don’t. If I tell them, I don’t suppose they’ll ever talk to me

again, you know what my brothers are like. And if I don’t tell them and they find out later, which they probably will if they haven’t worked it out already, then we’re stuffed anyway.”

He was right of course, and I was surprised with the equanimity with which he faced it, after all it was his family he was talking about.

“So, have you decided anything yet?”

“Yeah. I’m going to write and tell them. They can tell mum and dad if they want.” He looked directly at me and added viciously, “They’ll enjoy that.”

“You do realise that you might be burning all your bridges?” I said quietly.

Gareth threw down his fork, went bright red and glared at me. He spoke in an angry, furious whisper.

“When will you fucking realise that it’s you I want to be with, it’s you I live with, not that load of fucking cunts! I love ……” He didn’t finish the sentence before he ran off crying.

I was devastated. I’d done it again. Sighing, I followed after him. I found him eventually pacing up and down the corridor leading to the pool, head down and hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Gareth,” I said quietly, stopping a few feet away.

He turned to look me, his face red and tear-streaked. I’d never felt so wretched in my life: what should have been a celebratory meal had turned into an unmitigated disaster.

“I’m sorry,” I started to say, but Gareth ran into my arms and sobbed bitterly.

“Not your fault,” he said. “It’s just that it suddenly hit me that you’re right. I can’t go back can I?”

I held him close to me, ignoring the silent stare from a passing waiter.

” ‘Course you can if you want. Go back tomorrow if you want.”

“No, it’s not that. I know I could.” He took a deep breath, wiped his face with the back of his hands and carried on. “But I wouldn’t because you wouldn’t be there. And even if you were, it wouldn’t be the same anymore would it?”

I let this sink in before I replied. “No, it wouldn’t. And if you weren’t here with me, then I couldn’t stay here either.”

We looked at each other. “So. I guess were stuck with each other.” I said. He managed a weak smile. “You, your hormones and your bloody orgasms!” I whispered in his ear.

This earned me a half-hearted punch on the arm and, after a quick look round, a peck on the cheek.

“Sorry!” he whispered.

“Piss off, lover boy.” I grinned. “Let’s go and have a drink.”

I ordered a bottle of wine for us both as he had a quick wash and brush-up. He returned to the table looking and feeling a great deal better. We raised a glass to each other and took a deep drink.

“No more fights,” he said.

“No more fights,” I replied.

We were on the last couple of glasses out of the bottle when Gareth put his hand on top of mine and said just loudly enough for the group of middle-aged Brits on the next table to hear, “Let’s go home to bed.”

The group, which hitherto had taken a poorly disguised interest in the events at our table, suddenly found something far more interesting to stare at on their table which made one or two of them cough and splutter.

“Race you!” I grinned and we left them to think what they wanted. Neither of us gave a shit.


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