Ahh, crap. John pulled away a little to look at him, surprised: the question 'Is this your first time with a guy?' went unsaid on his lips, but John felt like he was asking it all the same, just by letting the silence fall between them.

Unable to hold back one astounded chuckle, he pressed what he hoped what was a reassuring kiss to that furrowed brow. "Look," he admitted, "I typically have sex when I'm very drunk, so I'm gonna be awful, sober." And it was easier, easier to talk about how he was the one to blame for any discomfort than deal with the deer-in-the-headlines expression in his boyfriend's eyes. He felt liked he'd just kicked a puppy. So John eased himself off Bobby's lap, keeping a hold of one of Bobby's hands and tugged him up gently from the couch to pull him towards the stairs, if he wanted to go. "And uh, despite the fact you'll think I'm terrible, I still would like to sleep with you."