Barlowen {One Shots}

Barlowen {One Shots 2}

For Gary, it was the perfect end to the perfect day: a dip in the pool with Mark after a picturesque drive through the Mediterranean countryside. And it started to get even better when he actually saw the pools at their exclusive hotel: a series of cascading hot and cold baths decorously arranged between fountains, urns and marble statues - and that, being divided into single sex areas like proper Turkish baths, swimming costumes were not required.

In the past, he might have been embarrassed to be naked in public, but not any more: not now that his music 'ruled the world', and not now that on he was on a driving and shagging drip across Europe, thinly disguised as a 'song writing' trip, with Mark at his side. Being as toned and buff as a Greek God - well, not far off - didn't do any harm, either! He couldn't wait to get his kit off and show off, relaxing with his beautiful lover at his side.

Having stripped off his shirt and shorts in the majestic, Romanesque changing rooms, Gary caught sight of himself in a large mirror. With only a miniscule towel wrapped around his waist, he thought he looked magnificent, notably his bulging pectorals and biceps. Even the naughty cheese-saturated lunch he'd consumed hadn't had too much effect on his almost-perfectly-flat stomach...yet.

He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, quirking an eyebrow for effect.

'Not bad, mate,' he muttered to himself, and grinned a cheesy grin.

Mark wasn't ready yet. Gary could hear him rustling about inside the only cubical in the otherwise communal changing rooms, so Gary sat down and waited. And waited.

'You okay?' he asked, after a few minutes; the sweat was dripping off Gary's brow and he couldn't wait to get in the crispest and coolest of the pools.

There was another scuffle, and then Mark spoke abruptly: 'I'm not ready!'

Gary groaned, sidling up to the cubical door. This was just so typical of Mark. 'What you doing in there, Marco? Powdering your arse?'

'Don't take the piss!'

'Eh? No need to get tetchy with me.' There was a muffled curse from within Mark's cubical. 'What is it?'

The door finally opened, and Mark was there, looking hot and bothered and holding the large towel wrapped around him up to his neck; he was hiding behind a large but fashionable pair of sunglasses and a slightly battered straw hat.

'How long does it take to take your clothes off, Markie?' Gary frowned, questioningly rather than crossly; Mark huffed. 'What is it?'

'Sorry, Gaz, but I don't want to get naked in front of all these people!'

'Eh? You've got a lovely body!'

Mark shook his head rapidly. 'No, I haven't! You're just being nice. I were never all pumped and buff like Jay and Howard and...well, you, Gaz! You're beautiful...and as for me...well, I'm just a bit...oh God, Gaz, I'm fat! And there were people there with cameras, what if they take pics and...ugh!'

Gary stared at Mark a second, huddled behind his towel. And then he burst out laughing - he couldn't help it.

'Fat? Oh, God, you say daft things, mate, but that takes the cake! You - fat? There's nothing of you!'

'You're just being nice!' Grimacing, Mark dropped his towel so it just covered him below the waist and Gary glimpsed of the top of his blue dolphin tattoo. He cast his eyes over Mark bewilderedly - and not unappreciatively. He was pretty familiar with Mark's body, his slender, toned limbs, how you could see his ribs even when he was breathing out - which Mark certainly wasn't at the moment. He was sucking in his little soft tummy so hard you could see the strain on his face.