Situationship [Complete]

1 | Mostly Air

Holy shit, we have to break up.

"Oh, God. Teagan!" Lenny moans as he finishes. His body shudders the way it always does after a hard four minutes of work. His expression is one of elation, but all I feel is frustration.

This is fixable. This is something that can be improved upon with proper time and training. Right? It's not worth overlooking all the blindingly positive traits he has. He's intelligent, kind, and that body . . .

The sweat glistens against the defined muscles of his chest, taunting me. I stroke my hands against them as he catches his breath. I guess it wouldn't be fair if he were perfect in every way. He just can't seem to figure this out, even after five long months of trying. Five aggravating, vexatious, frustrating months.

He looks down at me, wetting his lips between panting. "That was so good," he says. Was it, Lenny? Was it?

He lies atop me and wraps me up in a hug. When I'm not looking at him, I don't like him nearly as much. I stare up at the ceiling in annoyance, dropping it for a smile when he turns his head to look at me. "Did you . . . ?"

If you have to ask, the answer is no. "I . . . No, I didn't," I admit. "I was close though." I wasn't close at all. The sun is closer to that orgasm than I was.

He looks rueful, as if realizing he let me down. He did. "I'm sorry, I thought you had."

Bitch, where? "No," I tell him in as gentle a tone as I can manage. He's a sensitive, little lamb, but he has yet to figure out I'm a lioness, always ready to fight for what I want. I've been playing coy to keep from scaring him away, but it gets harder every day that passes. "It takes me a while to get there," I tell him. He nods in understanding and presses an apologetic kiss on my cheek. "There are . . . other things we could do to help me along, you know."

"Like what?" he asks. He brushes his hand over my cheek. "I'll do anything you want."

"Well . . ." I tread lightly. "You could go down on me."

His gaze drops from mine and his mouth presses into a straight line. "I told you that makes me uncomfortable."

"I know you had a bad experience with a partner before, but I'm very rigorous about my hygiene, it would never—"

"No, Teagan. I don't want to."

"Okay, okay," I coddle him. "Then . . . Would you let me do things to help me along?"

"You shouldn't need those things when you have me. I should be enough."

He pulls out and rolls over to sit on the edge of the bed. I stare at his back, watching his muscles flex as he fumbles with the condom. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? Every part of my body wants him, only to get nothing when I have him.

He's the human equivalent of a bag of chips. The image promises so much, but you buy it and find out it's mostly air and won't go down on you.

"I don't think this relationship is working," I blurt out.