a/n: oh, just a little ficlet. based on:

"If you fuck a woman well, she will leave you alone."
-Louis CK.

The Anatomy of Cuddling

She was no martyr in the bedroom, no silent partner—that was for sure. She was talkative and demanding and informative, which he wasn't used to—but found he liked, as it cut down on the amount of time he tried to figure out if what he was doing was working, or if she was satisfied—

-with her there was no silent reproach if he failed to notice she hadn't come yet, no insistent post-coital cuddling, no small sighs of annoyance or looks of slight frustration—she told him what she wanted—and more often than not, swore at herself if it wasn't working—

The thing about Jen was, she was all over him after sex, even if she was satisfied—she tangled herself up in him and—he wasn't that opposed to some closeness after the deed was done, but she smothered him; she pressed herself close when they were trying to cool down, and her sweaty hair seemed to get all over him—she smelled good, and he liked her—but the aggressive cuddling was shocking in a woman so independent and he wasn't used to it—

He realized, though, it was an extension of her libido—she was younger than him, and she was a woman who had trouble letting things go: small things, big things, orgasms—the like. She'd focus so hard on a technical mistake in a mission that she'd have him working on her for what seemed like hours until she surrendered to some weak release—

-not to say she never had a good time; she off-handedly stated several times he was the best she'd ever had—but the cuddling, and the neurotic perfectionism—it frustrated him to no end—he couldn't get comfortable until she fell asleep and relaxed off of him, and she was perpetually plagued with insomnia—

He discovered one night, though, after a particularly determined and aggressive intimate assault of her body that culminated in what he'd end up counting as the best sex of his life—that when she got it that good, she left him alone.

She kissed his neck, squeezed his hand, rolled over, and curled up to sleep—and in an obnoxiously ironic turn of events, he was pissed that he had to move over and pull her close, because he missed the stupid aggressive less-than-satisfied cuddling—and this time, she lazily put up with his sudden desire to smother her.

cuDDLES!
-alexandra
story #177