I've decided what to do with this. Hope the results are satisfying.

Last Time On : Statistics

How can he act so harsh and yet touch so soft? He smirks again. And I realize how. He's in control. Not only that, I realize again as his hands roam delicately down the front of my body. He wants me to beg. Beg. I do not beg.

Now : Chapter Two

His hands, ever the hard workers, are everywhere at once. Up my shirt, down my pants, in my hair, on my face... Everywhere. That is everywhere except... the right places. Sure they're up my shirt, but are they moving? No. They're just barely touching the edge of my ribs. And, yeah, they're down my pants... in the back. And my hair... actually, I have no complaints there. Same with my face. Its just that a few places can seem like a lot of places in a moment like this. During the few seconds it takes to think about this, he manages to pin me to the couch, thus eliminating the height difference, and, consequently, giving him even more control.

I lose my shirt first... Or was it my pants? Boxers? No, that isn't even possible... All I know for sure is that somehow, we both ended up naked. On the couch. Where anyone could see.

Now, while my calmness may be disturbing to some, others are surely thinking. Does this happen often or is he just always a rational thinker? On that I would like to say that I only wish this happened often. Wishing is very different from it actually happening though. Now am I always rational in my thoughts? I don't know. My thoughts always seem a least a little rational to me. Considering there's usually a reason I'm thinking something that others would deem irrational. Anyways... Back to the moment.

After a few failed attempts at speaking around the tongue in my mouth I finally manage. "Carlos?" And, while I'd like to say that this was a strong, assertive question, it was actually more of a squeak. Pitiful, I know. He pulls back, and the gleam in his eye almost makes me lose my resolve. Almost.

"What?" He murmurs/purrs. There really is no other way to explain it.

"Umm... Shouldn't we have gone on a date or something first?" I know. I'm about to have my teenage desires satisfied and all I seem to be able to think about is the lack of dating. Sue me for enjoying having him friend. A one-night stand isn't really worth a friendship. No matter how good the... interactions may be.

"Dates are for people to get to know each other. I think we know each other pretty well. Don't you?" His voice is sly, and sounds as though he'd given this particular argument some thought. As though he'd rehearsed it in his head or in front of a mirror. That doesn't stop me from agreeing with him though.

"Carlos?" I just don't want this friendship to die because of this.

"It's not a one time thing. Promise." And for all of his recklessness he rarely, if ever, breaks promises.

"Ok..."

And, with that, spoken words die out. And it wasn't really perfect. First times rarely are. But it was a promise of what was to come. A promise of a time where it will be perfect.

After all, most people's ideas of a perfect first time wouldn't be on a couch. It'd probably be on a bed or something similar.

Thud.

"Ow..." I peer over the edge of the couch at Carlos, who had managed to fall off. "Thanks to you, my afterglow has been cut short." He sends a half-hearted glare in my direction.

"I don't see how this is my fault." The effort of leaning over proves to be too much for my sated body and I flopped back over all the way onto the couch.

"For all of your concerns, you didn't even consider the fact that we were on the couch? And not a bed?" He shifted so that he'd be leaning against the couch rather than the air.

"Not really."

Most people say that their first time will be when 'the time is right' or when 'we both have time planned.' Ours was planned in advance. By him. Notice the lack of my imput.

"So... how long have you had this planned?" Casually. You can't just find a website like that on a spur of the moment decision

"... Was it really that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Months."

"How many?"

"Too many."

Also, for some reason, lots of people's fantasy involves candles. Ours involved spam. Spam of all things.

"Spam?" Disbelief colors my tone.

"Yep." He sounds proud of himself.

"What ever happened to candles?"

That's the kinda strange story of how a (fake) pop-up ad changed my life. Kind of. It would've happened eventually.

Sure, it's short. At least it's done though… I'm particularly proud that it managed to stay T. It was at the cost of length however.