Lars’s bowling ball

The first time he fingers you he's extremely thorough about explaining what he's going to do - I'm gonna touch you here now, okay sweetheart? Tell me if it feels good... oh you're so wet for me- I'm gonna slide my finger in, alright? Okay, that's it, you're taking me so well holy shit- I'm gonna try a few speeds okay? You tell me what feels good- I'm gonna rub your clit, I'll be gentle don't worry- mmh that's it, oh you're makin' me so hot sweetheart, your legs are shaking... gonna fuck you on it again now, okay?

When you jerk him off for the first time he shows you how with his hand wrapped around yours but you have a knack for it that he doesn't expect and just sits back to enjoy the ride. Let me guide you, that's it- mmh, oh- you feel so good, don't stop- just like that- ohh! and it's over pretty quickly because he hasn't felt a touch like that in a long while.

With his head between your legs for the first time, he give a few gentle laps to test the waters first. Do you like that? You want me to do it again? and then you hear faint mumbles as he keeps swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves.

When you want to suck him off, his fingers tangle in your hair as he falls apart but he still talks you through it. Jesus- ohh, fuck! Yeah just a little slower sweetheart or I won't last- that's it, ohhh you've got it- and what follows is a string of incomprehensible moans until he cums and then tries to tell you what a good job you did for him.

And the first time he buries himself in you he spends so long preparing you with his fingers and tongue, not letting you cum just yet because he doesn't want to overwhelm you but also so he can feel you clench around him. He almost cums in his pants just from pleasuring you but manages to wait until he's inside. You're sure you're ready? Yeah? Okay, I'm goin' in! Mmh god- you feel so fuckin' tight, baby, I'm not gonna last-

Imagine it slipping out when you've been unable to stop staring at him all night at a party because looks so good, all smart and dressed up with his hair slicked back and his best suit on, standing tall with those big strong hands resting at your lower back every chance they get or taking your hands in his strong but gentle grip.

‘You look so good,’ you coo with your fingers squeezing his thigh.

Lars closes his eyes and tries to breathe for a moment, but he’s getting better at this game and he turns to whisper in your ear, ‘I can’t wait to get you home.'

'Oh? Are you gonna take good care of me… daddy?'

You can practically feel the heat coming off Lars when he hears that, it does something to him that words can't describe. He grabs your hand and your coats, and with hurried goodbyes, marches you out to the car.

On the journey home, you can hear him trying to force his breathing calm, and when you arrive home and are behind closed doors, he says something so quiet, you can't make our what it is.

'Lars, baby, what is it?'

He looks you dead in the eyes, 'Say it again.'

Lars knows he has to do something about this. He’s hard every night, every morning and sometimes even at work when he looks at you for a bit too long. He spends more time in the bathroom waiting for the pleasurable ache to fade away than he does at his desk, and people are starting to notice.

The woodpile isn’t helping this time, and he can’t will the feelings and urges away as easily as he has in the past.

He wakes up after wet dreams more often than he’d care to admit and cries at how embarrassing it feels, but even with the mild relief of a mid-dream orgasm, it never helps the feeling to go away for long, because it’s simply not enough.

He can’t bring himself to jerk off because when he's tried it before he so guilty about it, it doesn't feel worth it.

He has to take care of it somehow, he knows he does. But how?

Lars knows about the bar at the other side of town because Kurt talks about it all the time. Kurt’s never actually used the glory hole but he’s absolutely certain it exists, he's seen it, he says, and he knows someone who used it once.

It seems to Lars that if someone else, someone anonymous who doesn't know him either, takes care of his needs for him, he's not technically doing anything sinful. It seems detached from him somehow. And since he doesn't stand a chance with you, he might as well, right?

So Lars drives across town with a furrowed brow, his cock aching so much in his trousers along the way that he can barely see straight and for a moment he considers pulling over and touching himself a bit just to be able to concentrate, but as always, he powers through.

When he arrives, he's so pent up that he leaves the door open and the key in the ignition, marches straight to the bathroom, right into the second stall like Kurt said, and there it is.

The adjoining stall was already locked shut. There’s a note scrawled on the wall: knock 3 times. 3 knocks back = good to go.

He knocks three times. He waits a few agonising moments that seem to stretch on forever, and then, finally, there are three knocks back.

Ok so he’s really doing this.

He’s nervous, he feels so dirty as he unzips that he whimpers, carefully easing his leaking cock through the hole. And then he waits, tears welling in his eyes as his cock throbs with heat against the cool air.

He mutters a prayer that he hopes the person on the other side of the divide can’t hear.

But his holy words are cut short as he feels the warm, wet relief of a mouth at the other side, taking him all the way in. A swirling tongue, a light suck with hollowed cheeks. He can't breathe. And then it’s mere seconds until it’s all over and he fills the strangers mouth with his release, groaning and slamming his fist against the cubicle wall as a wave of satisfaction crashes over him.

He’s finally sated. For now.

****

The cock that slides through the glory hole today is your first. You’d only got into this situation because you couldn’t stand dealing with your crush on Lars any longer. He’s simply perfect, everything you could ever want, but he would never be into you. You feared if you tried to talk to him you’d scare him off for good.

Your friend had joked you need to get laid to get over him, but you didn’t have an interest in a cold unfeeling exchange with some random person you didn’t know when Lars is so warm and comforting and simply everything to you.

So as her idea of a compromise, she took you to the bar where she’d had some fun in the first bathroom stall a couple of times before. She made it sound so innocent and fun and promised you’d never need to know who was on the other side, so just imagine it’s Lars and then you might get some clarity.

You weren’t sure to begin with, but at this point, you were willing to give anything a shot. Lars had looked so handsome at work today, his hair slicked back and his best sweater on, and you’d heard him chatting with Kurt about his ideal partner. But he didn’t look in your direction. Didn’t smile when you tried to get him attention walking by his stall several times. Didn’t name you when he was talking to Kurt.

So you finish your drink and wait in the stall to see if anyone appears.

It’s only right before you’re about to give up and leave that you hear the second stall click shut, the signal of three knocks, and the muttered prayer.

You almost run away, it doesn’t feel right, this just isn’t you — but… maybe if you just do it once, it’ll help you move on a little bit, somehow. Maybe. You wondered if Lars was out there somewhere right now, getting amorous with his ideal lover who so obviously isn’t you, and the searing jealousy that burned in your gut had you dropping to the floor instantly. You knock three times.

The dick you’re presented with is so pretty. It’s big, filling the hole, standing proudly up in front of you. There’s precum trickling down the sides, veins throbbing and an angry red tip, fit to burst.

You lick your lips and take the length into your mouth. The moans from the other side are frankly obscene, like something you’d hear in a porno movie, and after swirling your tongue over the tip a couple of times and hollowing your cheeks to suck, your mouth is filled with hot, thick spend.

The way they thrashed and hammered on the divide made your job easy, fucking into your mouth and cumming so fast you barely felt you’d done anything.

The raging jealousy that had pooled low in your belly was rapidly dissipating. Dropping back, you spat the strangers release into the toilet, and turned in time to catch a glimpse of a familiar blue jacket and grey trousers through the hole as the person on the other side tucked their limp cock away and got themselves together.

Surely not…

You brace yourself agaunst the divide and peer through the hole.

‘L-Lars?’ you blurt, kicking yourself as soon as you heard your own voice.

He freezes, and you swear you can hear him crying.

‘Lars it’s me… I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. I-’

He breathes your name, sniffling and wringing his hands.

‘Listen, I need to tell you something.’

You’d already sucked him off anonymously and then made it very not anonymous. What use was keeping your crush from him at this point?

‘I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-’ he mutters, and you wince, hoping you haven’t embarrassed him beyond redemption.

But he’s using the same glory hole you are after all, so-

‘I really like you Lars. Really, really like you. And I know you’d never like me so I just did this to try and… move on, I guess. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’

He stills, forcing his breath even.

‘You- you like me?’ he whimpers.

‘Yeah. More than I’ve liked anyone before. It’s kinda painful honestly, so-’

‘I’m only here because I like you. Is this a joke?’ he asks quietly and you wince.

‘No. It’s no joke, Lars. I’ve wanted to ask you out since my first day at Preston Industries. But I never thought- wait you like me too?’

‘… Yeah,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘I was telling Kurt about it today… kind of.’

You unlock your stall and step out into the bathroom.

‘Get out here.’

It takes him a long moment, so many feeling and thoughts running through his body and mind he feels dizzy. But he joins you, avoiding your eye.

‘Lars, do you wanna go for dinner with me next week?’ you ask with a nervous smile.

‘I- I’d l-love to,’ he stutters. ‘Sorry about uh- y’know.’

You tilt your head. ‘About what?’

He gestures to the stall.

‘I need to tell you something else,’ you bite your lips together, bracing yourself. ‘That was my first time- my first time doing that. And I actually kinda loved it. And I’m so glad it was you.’

Lars holds his hand out to yours. You take it and he waits for a few seconds, realising it doesn’t burn. You don’t burn.

Ken’s almost spent from the last few days, but he still gets a big kick out of seeing his release spread all over your body, watching the way you’re relishing in it.

He feels quite comfortable with your current arrangement, too, as you’re only kissing him, Luke is out of the picture and… well, he would like to touch you again. But he guesses the time will come for that, perhaps if he asks to sleep over in your room one night soon.

When you sit together to watch your show tonight, you surprise Ken with something he’s never considered in his wildest dreams.

The kiss is steamier than usual, hands exploring and Ken moaning loudly into your mouth, his tongue forceful against yours.

‘Ken?’ You pull away for breath.

‘Yeah?’ he says, dreamily,eyes half-closed as he gazes across at you.

‘Listen, I know what this kissing thing is doing to you. And it’s okay, I just… I don’t want to keep teasing you.’

‘You’re not teasing me,’ he grins, still high on your kiss. ‘You’re giving me everything I need.’

‘Well, how would you feel about taking things up a notch?’ you bite your lip, shooting a glance down between his legs.

Ken’s eyebrows raise. ‘You mean…’

You blurt out at the same time, Ken yelling out an excited, ‘You want me to jerk off in front of you?’ While you ask, ‘I could touch you?’

His eyes go wide and his jaw drops as you go on.

‘If it’s too soon, it’s okay, but I thought since you’ve already kinda touched me, I could kinda… y’know…’

You trail your hand from where it rests on his shoulder, down over his smooth, hard chest and abs, finally slipping over the bulge in his shorts. 

Ken melts immediately, cock straining beneath your palm, and he nods eagerly, lost for words for once.

‘I don’t have to go all the way if you’d rather not complicate things, but I could start you off? You know, like you did with me?’

Ken’s not sure what you mean. He made you moan, and isn’t that everything he needs to do? But he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment, so he just nods again. 

He feels that now familiar sensation riding in his body; hot cheeks, fluttery stomach. It all feels kinda nice now you’re actually touching him, though, like you’re soothing the ache his body holds for you.

You drag your palm over his length slowly, biting your lip at the way he shudders and grips the sofa cushions. Is he always this sensitive? Do his knuckles turn this white when he’s jerking off in the bathroom, right on the other side of the wall after you’ve kissed him for a few minutes?

Ken feels his orgasm approach quicker than usual, and before you have a chance to slide your hand inside his shorts and really get going, he spills, hot and thick beneath the fabric.

You feel the heat of his release spread over your palm as he writhes under your touch, breathing ragged and moans frankly unhinged. 

He recovers from the climax surprisingly quickly, only a little breathless when he lifts his head to ask you a question.

‘Wow,’ he pants, ‘so that’s like... kissing but the jerking off kind, or-?’

‘It’s a handjob,’ you answer gently, ‘or, it would have been if I’d actually got my hand on you. But that’s okay! I don’t mind when you cum, as long as it felt good?’

‘It did feel good. That was so cool! Wait,’ Ken sits up, suddenly completely sobered, ‘are you saying you were going to jerk me off for me? Like, inside my shorts, touching my dick?’ 

He makes a crude gesture to demonstrate the action.

‘Well… yeah, that’s kind of the idea of a handjob.’

‘Woah.’ He collapses back against the sofa, eyes wide with wonder.

‘Ken,’ you go on carefully, ‘was that your first handjob?’

‘Sure was,’ he smiles, still dazed from the high, but he stills as if to tell you something of the hightest importance. ‘I know you don’t like calling me your boyfriend, and that’s okay. But I can’t help thinking, I wouldn’t be a very good handjob roommate if I didn’t return the gesture, would I?’

You clench your thighs together, trying so hard to resist. You couldn’t quite believe it was his first. 

Ken fills the silence with a lowered voice, ‘I’ve been dying to feel you on my fingers again.’

You’re so turned on by how quick he unravelled, and the way his voice sounds right now is making you flush, but… perhaps things are best left there for now so you can guide him through your pleasure when he’s a little more acquainted with his own.

‘Oh. I’d love you to, Ken. Really. But, maybe next time, okay? I don’t wanna overwhelm you.’

‘Yeah, I guess that’s okay,’ he agrees, with a little shrug. ‘You’re gonna go use your pink buzzing toy now, aren’t you?’

You blush, flustered enough at his question you don’t even register that he knows a little bit too much about the vibrator.

‘Would you like me to?’

‘Yeah,’ he winks, and then his voice drops lower, ‘just give me a minute to clean up first. I wanna hear it when you moan my name.’

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You don’t see Ken in the morning and return home to an empty apartment. As you slip off your shoes and pass through the hallway toward your room, you pause. Did you really see that?

Taking a couple of suspicious steps back, you turn dizzy.

An art print you were looking at online two weeks ago, the one you’d mentioned to no one at all, is mounted in a frame and displayed on the wall exactly where you were thinking of hanging it.

You step forward and cautiously touch its frame. It’s really there.

Something snaps in you at that moment. Too much has been convenient recently. Too much has seemed a little too close to home. And sure, Ken might simply have similar taste to you, but this coincidence was one in a long line of coincidences and this one was simply the straw that broke the camels back.

As you try to think through it, all the breath slowly leaves your body. You shake your head. Unless he’s reading your mind, and knows the password to your laptop. And surely not?

But there’s a lingering pull in your gut, telling you there must be something else. So you head right for your laptop.

Finding it where you’d left it in your room, which comes as a small relief at least, you flip the laptop open and punch in the password. 

Of course. How could you be so stupid! You’d talked nonstop about your favorite character every night you’d watched TV together. Of course he would try that as your password!

Opening the browser, you navigate through the open tabs, frowning for a moment as you realise you’d organised your date with Luke on here, leaving it open. 

And there it is, the something else you’d felt in your gut. Four unread messages from Luke, who had been muted;

Hey, sorry if I said something weird last night. I was just going along with what I thought you wanted.

I really liked you though, it would be cool to chat some more and work it out.

If not, no worries. It was still really good to meet you.

And finally, just two days ago the final message had been sent:

Goodbye and all the best.

You scrolled up, wondering what this was about, and saw you’d apparently sent a couple of extra messages about your underwear. And your hot roommate. 

‘KEN!’ you yell, tossing the laptop aside and storming to his room to see what else you can find that could be anywhere close to this fucked up. 

Heart hammering in your chest, you stare at the door to his room. You knock, and there’s silence. You call his name. Silence again.

So you open it, lightheaded as you pass the threshold, because this feels so wrong. But as you begin to look around, it becomes kind of addictive. 

It’s bizarre in here. Horse blankets, pink sparkly decorations, neon signs, a mini fridge, an impressively organised closet with a crazy mix of clothing styles (the doors left open to display them). It’s somehow like standing inside Ken’s brain.

There are some chocolate bar wrappers tossed around and it’s not all completely pristine, but the bed is made and it’s tidy, for the most part. 

It’s very Ken but in a weird, eclectic way you wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone else, and you feel oddly comforted by it. You could stay here a while. The thought crosses your mind that you could sneak in again next time he’s out and you have to shake your head to snap yourself out of it.

‘What is wrong with me,’ you mutter, stepping back to head out, mentally telling yourself off for ever thinking stepping foot in here would be a good idea.

What did you expect to find? A shrine to yourself? Ha! He was a nosy weirdo with boundary issues,  but he wasn’t a creep. Ken had his share of awkward moments when he first moved in, sure, and he’s obviously violated your laptop, but he never actually snooped through your room, like you were doing to him. Right?

Wait. 

You think back. The underwear you’d seen him wearing, the pink toy left in the middle of your bed when you were certain you’d put it away — and did he actually mention it was pink last night? Had the laptop been in your room when he used it?

Surely not.

The dizzy sensations return two fold but as you turn to leave, you trip over something on the floor and grab his chest of drawers to keep from falling. 

As you grip it, something topples from the surface and you catch it with your other hand.

A Ken doll. Your Ken doll. Your Shaving Fun Ken doll.

‘What the-’ you start, scanning the top of the dresser for more. 

You don’t need to look far. There’s a sweater of yours, your pink underwear (which also appears to be coated in that pink shower goop), and finally, placed in a little cowboy boot shaped dish like a sick shrine to you, the pièces de résistance – a ball of hair.

You hold it up to compare the colour and the texture to your own, and you really can’t deny it. It’s yours.

You look down to see what you’d caught your foot on and right there before your feet are the pink high heeled shoes you tripped over in the hallway on Ken’s first night here.

Your heart slams in your chest again. Who did those shoes belong to and why did he still have them? 

Why did he have your hair?!

You have to get help. What had Ken done with the poor woman who belonged to those pink shoes? What will he do with you when he gets home and finds you in his room?

Suddenly it all makes sense. His lack of experience, his awkward interactions that could usually be read two ways – and for some reason you always chose simple misunderstanding over  creepy, which he no doubt hoped you would. He must be smarter than you ever thought.

You grab your doll and rush to leave. Then everything turns dark.

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‘Hey, baby,’ Ken smirks down at you as you collide with his chest. ‘Doing a little investigating of your own, huh?’

‘Ken- no, I-’

His eyes look so dark you can practically see yourself in their reflection.

‘Hey, it’s okay. I told you, if it feels good you should do it. I’ve been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t.’

‘You have?’ you play dumb. ‘Like what?’

‘I’ve been in your room,’ he says proudly, gesturing to the doll in your grip. ‘You’re holding me in your hand.’

You look down at the doll, then back up at him. As bizarre as it may seem, Ken suddenly makes a lot of sense to you. You recoil and drop the doll back onto the dresser.

‘I’ve been watching you, too,’ he grins, ‘but don’t worry, I did it within the guidelines of our agreement,’ he adds, strangely soothingly.

‘What did you do with that woman?’ You’re too riled up to keep up the charade when there’s some poor person out there — or in here — oh god...

‘What woman?’ Ken asks, completely baffled.

Oh he’s playing dumb now? Really?

‘The one who came here to kiss you. The one who left her shoes out in the hall!’ You point to the shoes in question like a defence lawyer convincing a jury. ‘What did you do to her? What are you going to do to me?’

Ken holds his hands up in surrender.

‘Don’t get mad, babe,’ he says, way too calmly. ‘I know, you’re jealous. That was the whole point. But there’s really no need to be.’

‘No, I’m not jealous, Ken-’

‘The shoes are mine,’ he says simply, shrugging, like it’s nothing. ‘I brought them back from Barbieland because I liked them and they remind me of Barbie. I thought they might come in useful. Turns out, I was right.’

He looks so pleased with himself that you want to slap the stupid smirk off his face. You clench your fists at your side to stop yourself. 

‘What?’ you say flatly.

‘There was no woman. No one night stand. I left them outside to see if it made you jealous, so I knew I had a chance at being your boyfriend, which has obviously worked out- oh no, wait… is this our first fight?’

‘Prove it,’ you say bluntly.

‘Prove what?’ he asks, scrunching his face in confusion, ‘That I’m your boyfriend?’

‘That there was no woman, Ken! Or I’m calling the cops.’

‘I told you, I brought the shoes back from Barbie-’

‘Then prove you’re a Ken doll,’ you shrug, calling his bluff and wincing as you hear yourself. It sounds completely ridiculous.

‘Oh! Yeah I can do that,’ he said, grinning and leaning casually against the door frame. ‘But you’ll have to watch me jerk off. Unless you wanna hand me off again?’

‘It’s a hand job,’ you scathe, ignoring his invitation.

‘Okay, well I can prove it if we do one of those, because something I’ve learnt from watching those late night movies here, is that guys from the Real World don’t have stuff that looks like mine.’

‘What do you mean?’ You are genuinely curious even though he’s so obviously leading you on for sex. Your blood is boiling.

‘My orgasm stuff,’ he says under his breath like he’ll get in trouble for it, pointing at his dick, ‘is pink and it glitters. Guys here have this boring white stuff. I bet it doesn’t even taste of anything! Mines strawberry, if you were wondering,’ he adds, looking very pleased with himself.

You slump back to sit on the end of his bed.

‘What’s wrong, baby, I thought you liked it? It looks so good on your skin!’

Stunned, you speak slowly, realising this as you say it out loud, ‘The body wash I’ve been using is your cum?’

‘Is that what’s it’s called? Interesting.’

‘This is insane.’

‘Right?!’ Ken exclaims. ‘I had no idea there was a name for it! I learnt orgasm when I looked up how to use this thing,’ he points to his dick again, ‘but I didn’t see the word cum.’

‘I didn’t know I was covering myself in your stuff this whole time,’ you wince.

‘But you like it,’ he smiles, shooting you a finger gun.

You have to take a moment to really admit this to yourself, but ultimately, you nod.

‘So that’s what’s in the underwear you stole from me when you also pretended to be me on the dating site and ruined my date with Luke.’ It’s a statement, not a question. 

Ken shrugs in agreement.

‘Do you know how fucked up that is?’ You sound calmer now, but your heart is racing. Taking time to process all this is really taking a toll on you. ‘Why do you have a ball of my hair?’

‘Because I like your hair,’ he says simply, like taking a clump of it was the obvious thing to do in that situation. ‘I got it from your hairbrush. I didn’t think you’d like me cutting a chunk off while you were asleep.’

‘God. That’s so fucking messed up,’ you breathe, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your core. ‘You’ve watched me sleep?’

‘No, but I’d sure like to,’ he says, far too intensely.

‘Holy shit,’ you sigh. ‘What did you mean before when you said you’d been doing things within our agreement? What agreement?’

‘Oh!’ Ken laughs, ‘You said not to watch you through the gap in the door, right?’

You nod.

‘And you said I could still jerk off as long as you couldn’t see me doing it?’

You nod again, narrowing your eyes.

‘So I jerked off in your closet while you were naked in your room and didn’t know I was there.’

You take a deep, shaky breath. ‘Ken?’

‘Yeah?’

‘How often have you jerked off about me since you moved in here?’

He lifts his hands up to focus intensely on trying to count on his fingers, but gives up pretty quickly and shrugs. ‘A lot.’

‘Do you want me to do it for you more often?’ you ask, looking him in the eye now – and you’ve got his full attention. ‘Because despite my better judgement, despite you being a complete sicko and snooping through my stuff and stealing my Ken and my hair and hacking my laptop to ruin the first date I’ve had in over a year… I’m-

‘Baby, you’re so hot when you’re mad-’ he interrupts, but you carry on.

‘I’m so turned on right now that I want you all over me, and I don’t think I can wait any more.’

‘You mean…’

‘Yeah, if you want to call it being my boyfriend, fine. I just need you and your glitter jizz. Right now.’

‘You need me… like in those late night movies?’ Ken asks, awed. He wasn’t sure that was something people really did.

‘Exactly like that. Except I’m gonna teach you how it’s done properly,’ you smirk.

‘So am I your-’

‘Yes, Ken. You’re my boyfriend, and I want you to do everything boyfriends do.’

‘Oh good because I have some matching outfits I’ve been saving for us to wear-’

You stand up from the bed only to pull him back down onto it with you, lips crashing together in a bruising kiss that has him trembling on top of you.

‘You’re a freak, you know that? You’re sick.’

‘You like that, baby?’ Ken grins.

‘I like it,’ you agree, and shut him up with your lips again.

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Thanks for reading and I hope the cliffhanger isn't too frustrating ;) don't worry, we'll delve right into it next chapter!

He’s gonna be jerking it constantly when he’s home because he’s hard every time he catches sight of you in the hallway or the elevator.

Keeps his gloves on so he can imagine it’s your hand, and imagines kissing you in order to get off.

Pressing his ear to the wall to catch any sound he can and god forbid he ever hears YOU touching yourself because he will be practically humping the wall that separates you.

Definitely gets to the point of figuring out if there’s a way he can see into your apartment from his, ideally into your bedroom. Is not beyond tracking your movements and acquiring some floor plans to know when you’re out and where to target, and then will make this happen so he can watch you whenever he wants.

But you’d never know he was so creepy and filthy because when you meet him outside or in the hallway he’s always a perfect gentleman and so quiet. You’d never suspect him. He’s gentle and soft and you see the way he looks at you so you start to tease him with glances that linger too long and little touches here and there.