[fic Bend It Like Beckham] like a flower leaning towards the sun, Jules
Back in 2005, when I wrote "Not Like Christmas, Exactly" for Yuletide, I also started this fic. I've finally finished it, at least as much as I'm ever going to finish it. Why all these posts? Well, I have diet Dr. Pepper, a Cadbury Caramello bar, and my Remix fic open. Of course I'm going to write something else instead.
Title: like a flower leaning towards the sun
Author: Carla
Disclaimer: Kintop Pictures, and others, own the characters.
Author’s Note: The title is from “I Turn To You” by Melanie C
Rating: 16+
Summary: There’s something wrong with Jules. Maybe. She’s not really sure.
America’s bloody hot.
Big, too, not a place you can cross in a day. Well, maybe in a plane. No one takes the train, and everyone drives everywhere. Jules doesn’t, of course, and not Jess either, but all the girls on the team have cars, and licences, and they’re always running from the dorm to the car park just to go to the shops. Usually, it’s to buy food and alcohol, so Jules can’t really complain. It’s just very different.
Life’s different. Life’s bollocksed. She loves her ex-coach who loves her best mate who’s also her roommate. It’s a nasty mess, even thousands of kilometers away, because she’s beginning to think she also loves her best mate who’s also her roommate who loves her ex-coach. Jules can’t even think about it all straight. That makes her laugh. Can you think straight when you’re not?
She likes boys. Boys are great, as long as they don’t think girls can’t play footie. Boys smell good, and they kiss good, and she likes to make them groan and squeeze her too hard with their calloused hands. It’s just that girls are great, too.
She discovered girls first, playing soccer in the park, and drinking fizz in the backyard, and tangy sweet kisses where her hands fumbled and her lips were too thick. She likes locker rooms and breasts in sports bras, and the way girls know her body so well.
Is there something wrong with her? She wonders, sometimes.
~~*
There’s one girl on the footie team in particular, the team captain, a tall black girl called Becca. She’s all muscle and hair and, god, those breasts. She practically has to bind them so she doesn’t hurt herself on the field.
“Can I call you Becs?” Jules asks, gasps in her ear, and Becca pushes her harder up against the wall and bites at her throat.
“Whatever.” She shoves Jules’ knickers out of the way, runs her thumb across her clit. “Just don’t expect me to grow a dick, or talk in that whiny-ass voice of his.” Jules can’t answer, she’s thrusting too hard and struggling to breathe, but it makes her laugh and pull Becca’s hair and give a little scream when she comes.
“I’m not picturing him or anything,” she says after, when they’re standing in the showers together. Becca rolls her eyes and angles her body so her hair doesn’t get wet.
“I fucking well hope not.”
She’s not picturing Beckham, she’s really not. What Jules doesn’t say, because she’s not thick, is that, sometimes, occasionally, she might picture Jess.
~~*
Christmas is tough. Jules expected as much, but when she sits next to Jess on the plane on the way home, all she wants to do is pull a blanket up over their laps and then reach up under Jess’s skirt and see what she looks like when she comes, see if she bites her lips or has to savage her own wrist to stay quiet. Probably not. Jules does.
All Jess wants to do is talk about footie and how to break the news to her parents about her and Joe.
Jules wants a drink, and a fuck. She’ll not get either on the plane.
She should just choose, right? It’s okay to like boys, it’s okay to like girls, but this whole thing with both - that can’t be right.
Joe’s waiting with their parents, all four of them, at the airport, and Jules really wants to scream.
End
Title: like a flower leaning towards the sun
Author: Carla
Disclaimer: Kintop Pictures, and others, own the characters.
Author’s Note: The title is from “I Turn To You” by Melanie C
Rating: 16+
Summary: There’s something wrong with Jules. Maybe. She’s not really sure.
America’s bloody hot.
Big, too, not a place you can cross in a day. Well, maybe in a plane. No one takes the train, and everyone drives everywhere. Jules doesn’t, of course, and not Jess either, but all the girls on the team have cars, and licences, and they’re always running from the dorm to the car park just to go to the shops. Usually, it’s to buy food and alcohol, so Jules can’t really complain. It’s just very different.
Life’s different. Life’s bollocksed. She loves her ex-coach who loves her best mate who’s also her roommate. It’s a nasty mess, even thousands of kilometers away, because she’s beginning to think she also loves her best mate who’s also her roommate who loves her ex-coach. Jules can’t even think about it all straight. That makes her laugh. Can you think straight when you’re not?
She likes boys. Boys are great, as long as they don’t think girls can’t play footie. Boys smell good, and they kiss good, and she likes to make them groan and squeeze her too hard with their calloused hands. It’s just that girls are great, too.
She discovered girls first, playing soccer in the park, and drinking fizz in the backyard, and tangy sweet kisses where her hands fumbled and her lips were too thick. She likes locker rooms and breasts in sports bras, and the way girls know her body so well.
Is there something wrong with her? She wonders, sometimes.
~~*
There’s one girl on the footie team in particular, the team captain, a tall black girl called Becca. She’s all muscle and hair and, god, those breasts. She practically has to bind them so she doesn’t hurt herself on the field.
“Can I call you Becs?” Jules asks, gasps in her ear, and Becca pushes her harder up against the wall and bites at her throat.
“Whatever.” She shoves Jules’ knickers out of the way, runs her thumb across her clit. “Just don’t expect me to grow a dick, or talk in that whiny-ass voice of his.” Jules can’t answer, she’s thrusting too hard and struggling to breathe, but it makes her laugh and pull Becca’s hair and give a little scream when she comes.
“I’m not picturing him or anything,” she says after, when they’re standing in the showers together. Becca rolls her eyes and angles her body so her hair doesn’t get wet.
“I fucking well hope not.”
She’s not picturing Beckham, she’s really not. What Jules doesn’t say, because she’s not thick, is that, sometimes, occasionally, she might picture Jess.
~~*
Christmas is tough. Jules expected as much, but when she sits next to Jess on the plane on the way home, all she wants to do is pull a blanket up over their laps and then reach up under Jess’s skirt and see what she looks like when she comes, see if she bites her lips or has to savage her own wrist to stay quiet. Probably not. Jules does.
All Jess wants to do is talk about footie and how to break the news to her parents about her and Joe.
Jules wants a drink, and a fuck. She’ll not get either on the plane.
She should just choose, right? It’s okay to like boys, it’s okay to like girls, but this whole thing with both - that can’t be right.
Joe’s waiting with their parents, all four of them, at the airport, and Jules really wants to scream.
End