It wasn't the first time he invited a match from a hook-up app to spend the night in his dorm.
It wasn't the first time he'd taken extra pillows out from the closet to accommodate another on his twin-sized bed.
Condoms and strawberry-flavored lube? Right where they had always been: in the top drawer of his nightstand, still plenty of each to last a few rounds. He kept his toys in the bottom drawer, not as easily accessible. But should his date feel so adventurous -
Gil Connolly sighed as he paced around the room. His date. Re-reading the conversation that had persuaded him to swap his typical flannel for a black, wrinkle-free dress shirt, he suspected his toy box might be better unmentioned.
Reasoning: when Gil offered to get them a bottle to drink, he expected the other to answer with a type of wine, or vodka, or champagne -
['Sparkling cider.'
'You mean hard cider?'
'No, like the bubbly kind.']
At least he could say it was the first time he'd gotten the stuff for a hook-up.
Not only that - judging by the other's profile on the app, his date seemed very...
Vanilla
. Ash blond hair was styled the same way in every photo: like a Mormon boy ready to go out on his first mission. His wardrobe appeared to be very polo-centric. His face was, of course, young. Round, with pink lips. It was his eyes that caught Gil's attention, though. Brilliant, hazel gems that had him wonder (assuming they weren't highlighted using a filter) what about himself could possibly stand out to a guy like that.
He decided to take a quick glance at his own profile, scratching his head while it occurred to him maybe he should've updated it sooner. In the pictures Gil had posted, his raven hair was short, mostly tame around his square jaw, with bangs swooping just above his brows. At present, however, it had become something of a mullet - feathering out behind his ears and constantly needing to be pushed away from his dull, gray eyes.
If it was some Edgy Bad Boy fantasy his date was after, he'd probably be a better fit in that moment than on his profile. So maybe he assumed the pictures were older? Or maybe, more likely, he'd recently spotted him around campus.
A controlled knock at the door disrupted Gil's train of thought. Discarding his phone to the pocket of his leather pants, he took a deep breath and went to answer.
Showtime
.
A boy, half a foot shorter but a few pounds heavier than him, stood as far away from the door as possible while still being in front of it. Having been biting his nails, he quickly tore the trembling hand away from his mouth to offer a small wave. "Hi."
"Barnaby. Hey-" Gil greeted him with an award-winning smile that nearly faltered. The poor guy was beet red, and his smile was strained - like if he wasn't so intent on keeping it up, he might actually sob.
Not exactly the signs of someone who had done this before.
Head ducked to hide any doubt, Gil stepped aside to let the other through. "Come on in. You look great."
"Oh. Thank you."
It was an odd choice for the occasion, yet somehow charming: a green striped polo that was a size too small and khakis that seemed of similar fit. Not that Gil saw it as a turnoff; the boy had wide, girlish hips, and those pants did an impressive job accentuating them. Overall, very plush in appearance. Squeezable.
Gil didn't even notice Barnaby's plumpest feature until he closed the door and turned to find his guest with his back to him, presumably questioning how to proceed. Christ. Bent over, he wondered if those khakis would rip apart on their own.
"You can sit on the bed or the chair-" Gil pointed to his swivel desk chair. "Whichever."
Or my lap. Or my face. Whichever.
He made himself useful, pouring cider into two champagne glasses, while Barnaby claimed a seat at the edge of the bed, smoothing his hands along his thighs. That left the chair for Gil; he gave the boy his glass on his way over, sitting with the backrest against his chest.
"I hope I got the right kind-" he commented for conversation's sake. "I thought sparkling cider was just...y'know. Sparkling Cider. Turns out there's different flavors."
Barnaby had taken a sip but covered his mouth immediately, an indignant snort erupting from behind his hand. Badly timed nervous laughter. "It's-" he croaked, struggling to recover. As soon as he did, breathing in deep, he managed another smile at Gil. Faint, but natural. The red in his face had begun to fade. "It's fine. Thank you. All flavors are good flavors."
"Well, alright," the host muttered, eyes wide with amusement as he downed half his cider in one gulp. He then gave in to the obvious inclination to ask, "So, do you not drink, or-?"
"I...can't?"Barnaby's grin widened sheepishly, and he fidgeted in his seat. "I'm not twenty-one yet, so...No." When Gil dramatically rolled his eyes, he sputtered, "I don't want to risk it! At least not on campus. Like, I've had wine with my mom before."
"Oooh, we've got a rebel," the raven snickered. He did recall the boy's age being twenty on his profile, and judging by the Everything Else About Him, he should've figured he'd want to play it safe. "Might let the dean know about that."
Barnaby scoffed, being the one to roll his eyes that time. "Please, I bet you've done much worse-"
That caught Gil off guard. He blinked in surprise, not sure if he should be insulted or impressed. "Oh yeah?" he tested the boy, a careless lift in his tone, "And what exactly do you think I'm capable of?"
It took his guest a second longer to realize what he'd said, all color draining from his face as he did. "I mean...Not...Not like you're a bad person, just...with the...the drinkingβ"
"You think I'm some alcoholic?"
"No!"
"Then what?"
"Just-" Barnaby was shaking again, biting his lip as he searched for the right words. Gil knew instantly that he'd made a mistake.
"Wait-"
"Sorry-" It was already too late for the boy to stop himself. "I just- meant that- You've probably done worse than me. W-Which is fine! Because I- I don't really do anything at all..? I've never had a one night stand, and I'm like, freaking out, and you're all cool and calm and handsome and offered to get me alcohol, so I'd assume you have experience, but I'm-" He paused only to catch his breath, "I'm really bad at words, so I'm sorry if it sounds like an insult; I promise I don't mean it that way, I-I admire it, actually..."
Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. Closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. It was one thing to guess the other's lack of experience. Another to have it confirmed.
"I'm sorry," Barnaby muttered, sounding desperate. "I'm weird, I know but...I-I can shut up if...weβ"
"You don't actually want to do this, do you?" Gil tried not to sound so accusatory, but inevitably, the question left the other looking like a kicked puppy. "I don't know - did someone dare you?"
"What? Who...
No