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“I think I might be the only gay man on the planet who’d actually like to know someone’s name before he starts grabbing my arse.”
Halfway along the path, Mitchell Thompson paused and looked over his shoulder. He frowned slightly as he shook his head at himself, sure he must have misheard.
“No, I’m not bloody well exaggerating. You have no idea what the men here are like!”
Thompson turned around and retraced his steps to a gap between the excess of greenery that separated a secluded little seating area from the paths that flanked it. The leaves parted to reveal a stunning view over the cliff tops to the sea beyond, but Thompson’s attention never actually moved past the young man in the middle of the scene.
He had a mobile phone glued to his ear, and he was sitting on the table with his feet on one of the chairs, but otherwise, he presented a pretty picture.
“I did not!” His eyes opened very wide. Pale pink lips morphed into an inviting little O. “I came here because he said the hotel was gay friendly. Friendly,” the younger man stressed. “Handshakes are friendly, clapping someone on the shoulder and watching rugby matches with someone is friendly. Trying to grab someone’s cock before you’ve even said hello is not friendly, it’s...it’s...well, it’s a damn sight more than friendly!”
Thompson smiled to himself. The younger man sounded so shocked, so innocently appalled by it all.
The boy pushed his hand through his hair, disordering the dark brown spikes. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just not as gay as I thought I was...”
Thompson’s smile faded a fraction. The younger man sounded so lost, so uncertain about it all.
A noise from the path on the other side of the seating area caught the boy’s attention. He rushed out his goodbyes and hung up on whomever had been playing agony aunt for him.
Mitchell tore his attention away from the younger man just in time to see a group walk out from the excessive shrubbery. There were half a dozen men, none of them much older than the boy at the table, and all of them more than a little tipsy. If Thompson was any judge, they were harmless. They were just as obviously out of the boy’s league.