This was it. One more hour. One more hour until Hercules Mulligan could go back to his dorm, collapse on his bed, and take a nap.
College was tough.
It was his last class of the day, which just happened to be his least favorite one: Biology. He had only enrolled in it because he expected to be cutting open frogs every day, which was sadly not the case. More like holding a four hundred paged text book while trying not to fall to sleep.
"Hey, Herc. Over here," a familiar voice called out. He turned around to find his friend John Laurens gesturing for him to sit next to him. Hercules obliged, and settled next to him
"How's it doing?" he asked.
"Great. My new turtle shirt is going to be shipped in today, I can't wait! I love those little turtles, with little heads and tails, and do you know what? Even when the fuck each other they're adorable! Like…"
John droned on and on, and Hercules just zoned out. He could go on like that for a while, especially if the conversation is about turtles. The two were best friends simply because they had no other people who would even start a conversation with them. Ah, the struggles of being an outcast.
Fortunately for Hercules, the professor came and the class started before John could go into detail of the history of turtle sex. Hercules never would have guessed that that was a thing, but his only friend proved him wrong.
"Alright, class. Today our class is going to be cut a bit short."
The students whispered to each other, wondering why they were so lucky.
"We have a new student coming in. He is a foreign exchange student from France. Let's see… He should be here any minute now-"
Almost on que, a boy burst into the class, running right into the professor's desk. He dropped all of the books in his hands, and gripped his ribcage, where the sharp edge of the desk had hit him. He then realized the other college staring at him, and picked back up his books.
"Désolé," he said quietly, facing the professor.
Hercules looked up at him, and suddenly felt his pupils blow up. With dark curly hair tied back, and eager, chocolate eyes, the boy was hot.
"That's alright. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?"
"Um… Sure," he spoke with a French accent. France, did he say? Ah, the sexiest accent… Herc thought to himself. No. No, Herc. Shut up. Don't fucking be so gay now. Not in class.
"My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. But you guys can just call me Laf, if you want. It's easier. Je parle français et anglais beaucoup, mais je prefere français."
Everyone nodded, pretending that they understood him.
"Um… okay. Nice," the professor nodded. "You can sit wherever. There's no specific seating, just to let you know."
Laf looked around at everyone. His eyes caught on Hercules and Laurens, so he went to sit next to them. They seemed like the only ones that weren't glaring at him.
Throughout the entire lesson, Herc couldn't think. All he could focus on was the Frenchman sitting next to him.
Everything about Laf was hot. From the way he spoke, to the way he dressed. Everything seemed just so perfect. Hercules just wanted to throw the kid against a wall and make out with him. He wanted to feel Laf against his thigh and fuck him. He wanted to come with him. Just the thought of it all made him hard.
Damn, He thought to himself.
I am so gay.