The first date had gone great. Matthew is a sweetheart through and through, even walked you home and let you borrow his jacket. The kiss was soft, and he was left all flushed and pink-cheeked—what a shy boy, really. It's adorable how soft-spoken he is. He's nothing like his brother.

Alfred is loud and brash and, unfortunately.. your idiot roommate who had set you two up on the date. You don't hate his fatass, though. Matthew is just sweeter.

The second date was even better.

He asked you out, asked to be your boyfriend! And you'd be silly to say no. He's perfect boyfie material!

So you two had agreed to hang out today—over at his place, of course. The poor thing was in the shower when you had arrived early to surprise him. Now you're sat together on his couch, watching a movie as one of your hands caresses his arm after making a comment about how strong it is. It's something that left him flustered, the blood rising to his cheeks—and elsewhere, too.

But can you blame him for the tent in his pants? You're here, touching his thigh and caressing his arm and playing with his curl! His curl!! You have to know what you're doing.

Still, he stays silent, face red and eyes glued to the TV.