She wonders if maybe part of the reason he treats her so delicately is because he’s waited so long for her, he doesn’t want to chance messing things up.

            He asks her where she wants to go to dinner and every single time he says, “that sounds great,” even though she knows that he hates Korean food (and she kind of does too, but she wanted to see if he was agreeing to agree or if he actually always thinks she has a great idea.)

            It’s not exactly a disaster, but sometimes she wants him to choose where they eat, what movie they see, what channel to watch on TV; she wants to know what he likes, too.

            When Roy wanted to do something, he really wanted to do it, and sometimes she didn’t mind sitting down with him and cheering for the Orioles or the Steelers because she loved him and he enjoyed those things. But more than anything, with Roy, Pam was missing the give and take.

            She starts to think if maybe this isn’t the exact same thing with Jim, she’s just seeing it from the other side.

            “What do you want to do?”

            “Whatever you want to do,” he’ll answer and smile.

            She doesn’t know how to tell him that she can handle not getting her way, she can handle him being a man, but he seems determined to not be anything like Roy, even if that means giving up everything for her all the time. She feels more like a porcelain doll sometimes than a girlfriend.

            He’s so gentle with her, even when she demands he not be.

            Jim pushes into her slowly and she’s been ready for the last half hour, just waiting for this moment when he’s all the way inside of her and it burns in such a good way that she doesn’t care if it lasts 5 minutes, she needs him to just take her.

            He moves only about half of his capacity, she thinks, not quite going all the way in, not quite going as fast as he can, and tonight it one of those times when she really needs.

            “Harder,” she whispers, her legs around the backs of his, pressing him into her, but she can feel him resisting, and he moves a little faster but he’s still just not quite all the way there.

            Maybe he wants her to be sweet all the time, maybe it scares him a little the way it first scared Roy when she pulled him against her and commanded him to fuck her as hard as he could. The difference was Roy did it anyway. Eventually she didn’t have to ask, and he would beg her “tonight, can we do it like that tonight?”

            “Harder, Jim,” he looks down at her, and she sees the sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes half closed, tries to beg him with her eyes.

            “I don’t want to hurt you,” he looks too concerned for a moment like this, when he’s supposed to just fuck and he looks too much like he’s concentrating, like this takes such an extreme effort.

            “You won’t hurt me,” she presses her legs harder against him, trying to pull him deeper.

            She reveled in that; those times when Roy would hit so deep that it did hurt a little bit and three hours later when she was making dinner or drifting off to sleep, or getting up to take a shower, it was like she could still feel him in her and she was so very his. She wants that now, from him.

            Jim moves a little faster, but she knows that faster isn’t harder and he’s still resisting like she’s too breakable to handle him. It makes her a little bit angry but she hopes it comes off more demanding than anything.

            “Fuck me deeper, Jim,” she digs her nails into his back like she wants it to sting him a little, taunting him until he listens to her. He’ll eat all the Korean food she could ever put in front of him but he won’t fuck her how she wants.

            He grunts softly and she thinks that maybe she’s won. He shoves into her hard and deep and there’s that biting pang somewhere far inside of her and she arches off the bed towards him, letting out a louder moan than she has in a long time.

            “Shit, are you okay,” he stops moving, looks worried.

            “Yes, yes please don’t stop, please. Do it again,” her hips jump off the bed wildly, urging him on; it takes a moment for him to respond to her.

            “I’ll hurt you, Pam. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s too deep, I can feel it... hitting things,” he’s still not fucking and she’s ready to cry because she’s so close, she just needs a few more thrusts and she’ll be gone.

            “Please, I just need you to, I just need,” her hips jump again and she feels it throbbing where he pushed into her and she’s just sitting at the edge waiting to go over, “oh fuck, please!”

            This might be the most she’s ever cursed in front of him and he looks afraid, like she’s a wild animal he can’t figure out what to do with. Her hips jump again and she takes him as deep as she can without him helping her and she’s desperate and close and angry and when she bucks that last time his name is on her lips like a sob and she comes, but not as hard she thought she could have.

            He just stays there in that position, watching her writhe and when she’s laying there panting and he’s still hard inside her, she opens her eyes and watches as he starts moving again. Slowly, predictably, and it feels good, but she wants him to need her, wants him to lose control.

            He comes not five minutes later, collapsing on top of her.

            Later that night he asks her if she’s feeling okay, and her insides twist like her whole body is rolling its eyes at him because she’s feeling amazing, that dull thumping still residual where he touched her, and it’s then that she first decides to make him need her.