The other man agreed.
“I won’t, but you’re still lucky.”
The pisser nodded.
“Lad, his ass is spectacular. All those tats. Fuck the polis. I don’t listen to them. You aren’t the only one wanting to go knock on that gate. I was also thinking of heading up to the castle to see if he’d see me tonight. My balls need to unload, and his ass is perfection.”
Michael could feel his heart racing.
Gate?
Castle?
Wanting to die?
Oh, no.
Were they talking about Graham?
As they kept talking, Michael was putting the pieces together.
“Are you talking about the brown-haired guy with the green eyes?” he finally asked, jumping into the conversation as he tried to get information.
The one man grinned.
“Oh, even the Americans have had his ass—or want it. That’s how good it is,” he said, patting Michael on the back.
Oh, and it took all Michael had not to break his hand off and feed it to him.
As for having that ass…
Yeah, Graham’s ass had been all his.
“I have,” he said, not lying because again, at one point, no one came in him but him.
“Well, Lad, you can attest. He’s on a collision course with whatever demons chase him, but until then, I’m pumping my load into him. He’s absolute rubbish, so why not have some fun? We’ve all been sharing him. Did you get his number from the loo wall too?”
Michael didn’t like this.
Not.
At.
All.
In fact, he was horrified that this was the choice of destruction Graham was choosing to take. It was dangerous, and could literally kill him.
With HIV.
A part of him wanted to not be shocked that Graham was sleeping around, but that part of him was also hyper aware that he, too, had done the same thing. He’d tried to escape until he found Riley.
Then, he’d been okay.
Until he wasn’t.
It wasn’t like he could blame him or fault him for doing everything he could to find some peace or to silence the demons. God knew it had eluded him these last years.
“Are you saying he hates himself?” Michael asked, continuing to do recon on his ex.
