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xp_logsMiles asks Gabriel for some personal advice following Miles's recent misadventure with Bobby.
Casual. Miles had to make this casual. Hi, Gabo, what a coincidence to run into you here kind of casual. Oh while you're here can you answer questions for me about gay sex because the Internet is terrible for advice? That kind of casual.
Miles was sitting in the oak tree he liked to climb, the same one where a couple years ago, they'd inadvertently had another casual sex talk. Make it just like that again. He craned his head when he caught sight of Gabriel jogging down the path, and gave him time to approach before waving to him and announcing his presence.
Just like that. Super casual.
At least this time, Gabriel saw Miles coming. "Yo," he said with a nod before pausing his playlist and pulling his headphones out of his ears. He'd gone for speed over distance and the exposed parts of his body glistened with sweat. "It might already be too hot for this. Or I'm a baby." He reached his left leg and started stretching his quads. "Whatcha up to?"
"Just chillin'. Or, I guess, the opposite. It's not that cool even in the shade.Thought I'd give the AC a break, though, instead of sitting under it all day. You, uh, you just working out?"
“Uh, yeah.” Gabriel wobbled a bit on his standing leg as he raised an eyebrow. “Trying to tan. Trying to slim down. It’s beach season, so, you know,” he shrugged. “Plus I like a good sweat sesh. Working out indoors is lame.” He switched legs.
"Yeah, yeah, for real, I bet." Real smooth, Morales. "That's a thing? Sweating? Like, as an activity?" He internally facepalmed. Why was he so bad at talking? Rolling his eyes at himself, he let himself off the tree, first by climbing down to hang on the branch, and then jumping off the rest of the way.
Gabriel planted both feet on the ground. "The fuck is wrong with you, cabrón?"
"Me?" Miles blanched at the accusation, but his cracking voice betrayed him. "Nothing's wrong with me, buddy. I am A-OK." He pointedly pronounced each syllable to emphasize just how OK he was.
"Oh my god," Gabriel smirked, "are you high right now? Did you get into someone's stash?"
"What? No! Claro que no. I wouldn't even know what to do if I had any." Miles's eyes widened as a realization came to him. Analogy! "Like, I know you put it in your mouth but then who knows? I know you don't just get high like that."
Gabriel couldn't help but roll his eyes a bit. "You've seen a movie," he crossed his arms. "I'm sure you could figure it out. Also, hello, internet."
"Yeah, the Internet has been less than helpful in that regard. It all just makes it look like you put it in your mouth and suck on it until . . ." Miles almost gasped when the words he was saying caught up with him. Keep it metaphorical, tonto.
Gabriel blinked, had the decency to look puzzled for a half-second, and then he burst into a grin. "Oh." He said, the mirth all over his face, his eyes almost dancing. "Oh."
Miles froze like a deer in headlights. So much for subtlety. Or any possibility of retaining his dignity. Was it too late to camo and run the hell away? Maybe venom blast Gabo, just a little, so when he came to, he would think this all a dream that never happened.
"Uh . . ." he said instead.
Gabriel said nothing, unable to wipe the amusement from his face. He let the silence get uncomfortable and watched as Miles shifted uncomfortably. "Miles," he said with a shit-eating grin, "did you have something you wanted to talk about?"
The younger man was pulling his best Tina Belcher impression just to keep himself from crying in embarrassment. This was not going as he had hoped, and they had not even started on the actual topic in question. Why was he so bad at this? "Gabo, I . . . Um . . . Dammit, I wish we were in Limbo right now. This would be easier."
"Well," Gabriel snorted, "I'm pretty sure that's not true." Still, a different side of his fraternal instinct — the one that wasn't busy taunting Miles for being the world's most awkward person about this — kicked in. He decided to take some pity on the guy, lest this get entirely too cruel. "You know," he said, a hint of playfulness still in his expression, "first of all, you weren't nearly this awkward talking to me about Becky, which is probably a case study for The Velvet Rage, by the way. And more importantly," he shrugged and then dropped his bands back to his side, "if you can't talk about it, you're going to have an even harder time doing it."
"Yeah, but I don't know how!" Miles gestured wildly, like he was trying to grab hold of something that kept flitting out of reach. "They didn't teach us this in school, and trust me, I tried the Internet, but now I know what fisting is and I wish I didn't. No shade, but eww. Pass on that. And, like . . ." He sighed again. "A few days ago we were up in our room and Bobby did this thing and I . . . in my pants, Gabo. I had to change. I've never been so embarrassed."
"You're, what, 18? That's not gonna be the last time you finish in your pants, buddy." Gabriel cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. A bread of sweat dripped down his arms, and he flicked it off his bicep. "Any chance we can move this inside? You clearly need a chance to get a hold of yourself, and I need a Gatorade."
Miles nodded and walked a step behind Gabriel as they went back inside. He could use a drink, too. An actual one. Goodness knows it's lubricated his tongue before.
Thankfully, no one else was in the kitchen when they arrived, so he could pour himself a glass of water and talk undisturbed. Still, for extra protection, he spoke in Spanish. "Look, it's just . . . I don't even know how to do what I want to do."
"And what is it you want to do?" Gabriel bee-lined to the fridge and started moving things aside. "That's incredibly vague, you know." He pulled out a bottle of blue and slammed the fridge shut. "What have you even tried to do? I mean, I assume you've touched." He twisted open the cap, then glanced at the door. "You want to go upstairs, or...?"
"Please." Miles drained his glass and left it in the sink for someone else to take care of before once again following his friend. "And yeah, we have. Only second base, though. I want to do more. But, like, I've only done it to myself before, you know what I mean? That's not the same."
"No," Gabriel agreed, still speaking in Spanish, "it's not. But it's good that you know that, because that's an important part of it. Everyone has things they like and don't like. And you gotta, you know, communicate to find out what that is." He shrugged. "I mean, you'd do that for women, right? Just because you have the same parts as him doesn't mean it's that different."
"Why does it feel like it's so different?" Miles lamented. They reached Gabriel's suite, and Miles draped himself over the couch after kicking off his sneakers into the corner of the room. "And, like, when he does tell me, how do I do it right? I don't want to do it bad and turn him off."
"You listen, hijo." Gabriel kept walking to his room so he could change out of his sweaty shirt. "And you read the signals. The way a dude breathes, the way he moves — those are your clues."
"'Hijo?' Sure, papi. Hmm. Do guys like being called 'papi'?" Miles wondered, jotting down another mental note. "Okay, but I need more, like, practical advice. Where to put my hands and how much tongue is okay, and who's responsible for the condoms? I mean, when we get there."
"You should both always have condoms with you," Gabriel called out. "Duh." He appeared two seconds later, dressed in almost-identical athleisure, in front of his pantry, where he pulled out an energy bar for him and an unopened bottle of lube for Miles. "Here. Catch." He tossed the lube to his would-be sexual protege, counting on the other man's danger sense to kick in, before appearing on a chair opposite him a split-second later.
Miles did not even look up when he held up his hand to catch it. He peered at the label, his eyebrow raised in a curious manner. But not at the lube per se. "Do I want to know why this is in your kitchen?" he asked. "Or is this, like, an eating out kind of thing?" He grinned widely, proud at his own joke.
"If I want to bend someone over the kitchen counter, I don't want to have to waste time running into the bedroom." Gabriel shrugged, looking at Miles as casually as if he'd just mentioned the weather, and almost daring him to react.
It had the desired effect, as Miles nearly choked on his own saliva. Coughing to clear his throat, he turned his gaze back to the bottle. "That half a second for you to run in and back out is really precious, huh? How, um, how do you get a guy ready, anyway? Like, besides with this."
"Well, I usually try to make him do most of the work," Gabriel said with a glint in his eye. "But you know, lube is your best friend. And I always keep my fingernails short so that when we're you know..." He shrugged. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't want anyone to get scratched down there."
"Down whe . . . oh. Oh!" Miles thought about it for a second, envisioning holding Bobby with one arm while his other hand did what Gabriel alluded to. It made him smile and he adjusted his position on the couch. Not so bad, actually. "Guess that manicure Warren's getting me is gonna come in handy."
Gabriel just snorted. "Honestly," he said after another sip from his beverage, "your first few times at gay sex are going to be as awkward and uncomfortable as straight sex, and the only reason it's worse is because you're going to think it's more awkward when it's really not." He shrugged.
"Just so you know, this has been a lot more insightful than even the straight sex talk my dad gave me when I was 14."
"Well sure," Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not invested in your moral well-being."
"My moral compass is straighter than either of us so it's in no danger. Oh, something else I read on Teen Vogue. Rimming, y/n?"
"I mean, yes?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "You won't know unless you try it?"
"Did you, like, try a lot of stuff at once, or did you spread it out over many boyfriends?" Miles smiled bashfully again, looking down at the bottle in his hands. "You know, never mind. I'm overthinking. Just gotta let things go naturally. You ever seen that old movie There's Something About Mary? I'll just do that first so I don't have an early accident again."
"You honestly just need to, like, experiment. Listen to Savage Love. I don't take everything that guy says as gospel, but, like, there are some good tips in there."
Another mental note made. "Experiment." Miles sighed. "Well, if I end up single in a week or two, we know it's 'cuz I'm a bad scientist."
Casual. Miles had to make this casual. Hi, Gabo, what a coincidence to run into you here kind of casual. Oh while you're here can you answer questions for me about gay sex because the Internet is terrible for advice? That kind of casual.
Miles was sitting in the oak tree he liked to climb, the same one where a couple years ago, they'd inadvertently had another casual sex talk. Make it just like that again. He craned his head when he caught sight of Gabriel jogging down the path, and gave him time to approach before waving to him and announcing his presence.
Just like that. Super casual.
At least this time, Gabriel saw Miles coming. "Yo," he said with a nod before pausing his playlist and pulling his headphones out of his ears. He'd gone for speed over distance and the exposed parts of his body glistened with sweat. "It might already be too hot for this. Or I'm a baby." He reached his left leg and started stretching his quads. "Whatcha up to?"
"Just chillin'. Or, I guess, the opposite. It's not that cool even in the shade.Thought I'd give the AC a break, though, instead of sitting under it all day. You, uh, you just working out?"
“Uh, yeah.” Gabriel wobbled a bit on his standing leg as he raised an eyebrow. “Trying to tan. Trying to slim down. It’s beach season, so, you know,” he shrugged. “Plus I like a good sweat sesh. Working out indoors is lame.” He switched legs.
"Yeah, yeah, for real, I bet." Real smooth, Morales. "That's a thing? Sweating? Like, as an activity?" He internally facepalmed. Why was he so bad at talking? Rolling his eyes at himself, he let himself off the tree, first by climbing down to hang on the branch, and then jumping off the rest of the way.
Gabriel planted both feet on the ground. "The fuck is wrong with you, cabrón?"
"Me?" Miles blanched at the accusation, but his cracking voice betrayed him. "Nothing's wrong with me, buddy. I am A-OK." He pointedly pronounced each syllable to emphasize just how OK he was.
"Oh my god," Gabriel smirked, "are you high right now? Did you get into someone's stash?"
"What? No! Claro que no. I wouldn't even know what to do if I had any." Miles's eyes widened as a realization came to him. Analogy! "Like, I know you put it in your mouth but then who knows? I know you don't just get high like that."
Gabriel couldn't help but roll his eyes a bit. "You've seen a movie," he crossed his arms. "I'm sure you could figure it out. Also, hello, internet."
"Yeah, the Internet has been less than helpful in that regard. It all just makes it look like you put it in your mouth and suck on it until . . ." Miles almost gasped when the words he was saying caught up with him. Keep it metaphorical, tonto.
Gabriel blinked, had the decency to look puzzled for a half-second, and then he burst into a grin. "Oh." He said, the mirth all over his face, his eyes almost dancing. "Oh."
Miles froze like a deer in headlights. So much for subtlety. Or any possibility of retaining his dignity. Was it too late to camo and run the hell away? Maybe venom blast Gabo, just a little, so when he came to, he would think this all a dream that never happened.
"Uh . . ." he said instead.
Gabriel said nothing, unable to wipe the amusement from his face. He let the silence get uncomfortable and watched as Miles shifted uncomfortably. "Miles," he said with a shit-eating grin, "did you have something you wanted to talk about?"
The younger man was pulling his best Tina Belcher impression just to keep himself from crying in embarrassment. This was not going as he had hoped, and they had not even started on the actual topic in question. Why was he so bad at this? "Gabo, I . . . Um . . . Dammit, I wish we were in Limbo right now. This would be easier."
"Well," Gabriel snorted, "I'm pretty sure that's not true." Still, a different side of his fraternal instinct — the one that wasn't busy taunting Miles for being the world's most awkward person about this — kicked in. He decided to take some pity on the guy, lest this get entirely too cruel. "You know," he said, a hint of playfulness still in his expression, "first of all, you weren't nearly this awkward talking to me about Becky, which is probably a case study for The Velvet Rage, by the way. And more importantly," he shrugged and then dropped his bands back to his side, "if you can't talk about it, you're going to have an even harder time doing it."
"Yeah, but I don't know how!" Miles gestured wildly, like he was trying to grab hold of something that kept flitting out of reach. "They didn't teach us this in school, and trust me, I tried the Internet, but now I know what fisting is and I wish I didn't. No shade, but eww. Pass on that. And, like . . ." He sighed again. "A few days ago we were up in our room and Bobby did this thing and I . . . in my pants, Gabo. I had to change. I've never been so embarrassed."
"You're, what, 18? That's not gonna be the last time you finish in your pants, buddy." Gabriel cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. A bread of sweat dripped down his arms, and he flicked it off his bicep. "Any chance we can move this inside? You clearly need a chance to get a hold of yourself, and I need a Gatorade."
Miles nodded and walked a step behind Gabriel as they went back inside. He could use a drink, too. An actual one. Goodness knows it's lubricated his tongue before.
Thankfully, no one else was in the kitchen when they arrived, so he could pour himself a glass of water and talk undisturbed. Still, for extra protection, he spoke in Spanish. "Look, it's just . . . I don't even know how to do what I want to do."
"And what is it you want to do?" Gabriel bee-lined to the fridge and started moving things aside. "That's incredibly vague, you know." He pulled out a bottle of blue and slammed the fridge shut. "What have you even tried to do? I mean, I assume you've touched." He twisted open the cap, then glanced at the door. "You want to go upstairs, or...?"
"Please." Miles drained his glass and left it in the sink for someone else to take care of before once again following his friend. "And yeah, we have. Only second base, though. I want to do more. But, like, I've only done it to myself before, you know what I mean? That's not the same."
"No," Gabriel agreed, still speaking in Spanish, "it's not. But it's good that you know that, because that's an important part of it. Everyone has things they like and don't like. And you gotta, you know, communicate to find out what that is." He shrugged. "I mean, you'd do that for women, right? Just because you have the same parts as him doesn't mean it's that different."
"Why does it feel like it's so different?" Miles lamented. They reached Gabriel's suite, and Miles draped himself over the couch after kicking off his sneakers into the corner of the room. "And, like, when he does tell me, how do I do it right? I don't want to do it bad and turn him off."
"You listen, hijo." Gabriel kept walking to his room so he could change out of his sweaty shirt. "And you read the signals. The way a dude breathes, the way he moves — those are your clues."
"'Hijo?' Sure, papi. Hmm. Do guys like being called 'papi'?" Miles wondered, jotting down another mental note. "Okay, but I need more, like, practical advice. Where to put my hands and how much tongue is okay, and who's responsible for the condoms? I mean, when we get there."
"You should both always have condoms with you," Gabriel called out. "Duh." He appeared two seconds later, dressed in almost-identical athleisure, in front of his pantry, where he pulled out an energy bar for him and an unopened bottle of lube for Miles. "Here. Catch." He tossed the lube to his would-be sexual protege, counting on the other man's danger sense to kick in, before appearing on a chair opposite him a split-second later.
Miles did not even look up when he held up his hand to catch it. He peered at the label, his eyebrow raised in a curious manner. But not at the lube per se. "Do I want to know why this is in your kitchen?" he asked. "Or is this, like, an eating out kind of thing?" He grinned widely, proud at his own joke.
"If I want to bend someone over the kitchen counter, I don't want to have to waste time running into the bedroom." Gabriel shrugged, looking at Miles as casually as if he'd just mentioned the weather, and almost daring him to react.
It had the desired effect, as Miles nearly choked on his own saliva. Coughing to clear his throat, he turned his gaze back to the bottle. "That half a second for you to run in and back out is really precious, huh? How, um, how do you get a guy ready, anyway? Like, besides with this."
"Well, I usually try to make him do most of the work," Gabriel said with a glint in his eye. "But you know, lube is your best friend. And I always keep my fingernails short so that when we're you know..." He shrugged. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't want anyone to get scratched down there."
"Down whe . . . oh. Oh!" Miles thought about it for a second, envisioning holding Bobby with one arm while his other hand did what Gabriel alluded to. It made him smile and he adjusted his position on the couch. Not so bad, actually. "Guess that manicure Warren's getting me is gonna come in handy."
Gabriel just snorted. "Honestly," he said after another sip from his beverage, "your first few times at gay sex are going to be as awkward and uncomfortable as straight sex, and the only reason it's worse is because you're going to think it's more awkward when it's really not." He shrugged.
"Just so you know, this has been a lot more insightful than even the straight sex talk my dad gave me when I was 14."
"Well sure," Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not invested in your moral well-being."
"My moral compass is straighter than either of us so it's in no danger. Oh, something else I read on Teen Vogue. Rimming, y/n?"
"I mean, yes?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "You won't know unless you try it?"
"Did you, like, try a lot of stuff at once, or did you spread it out over many boyfriends?" Miles smiled bashfully again, looking down at the bottle in his hands. "You know, never mind. I'm overthinking. Just gotta let things go naturally. You ever seen that old movie There's Something About Mary? I'll just do that first so I don't have an early accident again."
"You honestly just need to, like, experiment. Listen to Savage Love. I don't take everything that guy says as gospel, but, like, there are some good tips in there."
Another mental note made. "Experiment." Miles sighed. "Well, if I end up single in a week or two, we know it's 'cuz I'm a bad scientist."
