“It’s fine, Drew.”

It most definitely is not fine.

Jessica sighs and stretches, the soft lines of her naked body elongating with the movement, the fabric of her bedsheets bunching up beneath her. Her hand is still between her thighs. Drew’s cum is drying on his own stomach.

That’s the… what? Fifth time now that Drew hasn’t been able to get her off during sex, and the third time they’ve ended up finishing themselves off next to each other.

Fuck.

Drew stares at the ceiling, watching the sun catch a few dust motes in its rays where it filters in through the gaps in the blinds. He feels nauseous.

They haven’t been dating long, maybe a couple of months at this point. They sort of just… fell into it. They met at the campus bar; she flirted a lot and asked for his number. They got coffee not long after that, and Drew realized how much they actually had in common, and the conversation flowed easily. It’s been great since then, really. Well, aside from the sex.

Drew just can’t quite