Work Text:
Tyra avoids her for the next week.
Her mother comments on it, asking if they've had a falling out, asking what's wrong.
Julie tells her that she's going to work on it, that it's nothing, not to worry. She wants to say, You were so right. It's not just one body part going into another. It's so much more than that.
She knows that that's why Tyra's been avoiding her.
She knows that she's being just as -- no, more -- deceitful to Matt than he ever was to her. And Julie cares. She feels guilty about it. She does. She tries to make up for it by letting Matt go a bit further when they manage to sneak half an hour completely alone with each other, but he's so clumsy and fumble fingered next to Tyra that Julie just wants to scream in frustration.
She still wants Tyra. Because it's new and she's never had anything like it and it's different than what she's got with Matt.
She wants more . Switches have flipped in Julie's mind. She's aware of her body in a whole new way now. Aware of the possibilities offered by women's bodies for the first time. During dance practice she's distracted and gets reamed out for it, but can't stop wondering if any of the other girls know what she knows about their bodies. Their amazing, wonderful bodies, and the possibilities of them.
Across the quad she sees Tyra talking to Landry and smiling at him and a hot rush floods through her as she thinks about Tyra's mouth.
(Tyra's lips. Tyra's tongue. Tyra's breath ghosting across her skin, making her prickle and shiver.)
And right now, that's what matters most. Julie needs to know more . Needs to see this thing between them out to the end.
~oo(0)oo~
Tyra's mom is MIA again, which is just as well. It's Mindy who blearily answers the door and waves Julie in before stumbling back to bed.
Julie knocks on Tyra's door, hears a "Yeah?" and enters. She shuts the door behind her and leans on it. If Tyra doesn't want to talk about this, she's got to get through Julie or go out the window.
Tyra gives an angry, huffing sigh. "What?"
"We need to talk," Julie says.
"Okay."
Julie sits down next to her on the bed and the words she planned to say vanish. She takes Tyra's hand in hers and kisses her.
"Julie --" a soft gasp as they part for air.
But it's weak, Tyra's protest. She offers no resistance as Julie puts a hand on her collarbone and pushes her to lie back.
~oo(0)oo~
They're kneeling on the bed, face to face, naked.
Tyra's breasts fill the palms of her hands and ... it's different than having your own in your hands. Julie likes the way Tyra's skin feels and the heft of them, their shape, their warmth. She shifts back and ducks her head head and sucks a pert nipple into her mouth. It's it moves, hardening even more in response to her tongue, and Tyra's gasp is music to her ears and the taste is ... okay, it's not like strawberries or any berries or any crap Julie's ever read in a romance novel. It's skin , faintly salty, and something else.
Tyra reaches for her and Julie shies back, but Tyra's persistent, so Julie lets her finally get her hands on Julie's breasts. She's only half aware of that, except that from time to time a shiver makes her breath catch. Right now she's all about Tyra and making Tyra gasp and shudder and arch into her and ... she reaches a hand down, delicately touching at Tyra's wetness. It's tantalizingly cool and slightly sticky where the curls are damp, but so hot and slick in the folds, and Tyra rasps a breathy, "Julie "
"Wh-what do you like? What should I ...?" Excitement puts the stutter into Julie's voice. She delicately trails her index finger over Tyra's moist warmth, thrilling as she feels Tyra twitch and shiver there.
(The tiniest, most delicate micro-spasms, it's amazing.)
Tyra looks at her a long moment and shows her. "Like this." She holds up her hand and crosses middle finger over ring and brings her hand down, reaching for Julie. Julie tries to shy away, she wants this to be about Tyra and ... but she's hot and wet and needy too, and when Tyra's hand brushes against her, her legs part and she lets Tyra in.
Ohgod .
(A little corner of her mind wonders the how, what, where, why, and who of Tyra's past experience, but she can ask that later. That's not important right now.)
Julie wastes no time doing the same to Tyra, sliding her fingers into the snug warmth and wet and it's ... perfect. Her index and pinky frame Tyra's lips and the heel of her hand brushes against Tyra's clit, hard or soft, depending on the angle and speed. Tyra throws an arm around Julie, hauling her in, kissing her, devouring her , and both of them are moving hands now, and it's so good. Julie feels almost like she's not quite sure where her body begins and Tyra's ends, and Tyra's begging her and calling out her name like it's Jesus's, and asking for more and faster; she stiffens and arches and gives one last, choked cry and Julie gives a cry of her own, falls over the edge right after her, shuddering like she's got her finger in a socket, sure she's soaked Tyra's hand the way Tyra's just soaked hers.
They wobble a bit, bones gone to jelly, panting for air, and don't take their hands away from there, quite yet, as they kiss, long and luscious and everything a kiss should be, and Julie can feel Tyra's aftershocks, the twitches and flutters, and Julie's so sensitive right now that the slightest brush of Tyra's palm against her clit is both pleasure and pain but, spent as she is, she still wants more, knows from her own explorations alone in bed at night that she can have more, they just need to wait a few minutes, take the edge off, wait until the spasm-throbs die back a bit, and then there can be more, and Tyra tears her lips from Julie's, brushes her hair aside, starts kissing at Julie's neck and shoulder and --
-- gasps and shrieks.
Julie whirls around to see what it is.
Shit! Shit! Shit! They forgot to close the blinds!
Tim Riggins is on the other side of the window. His hand's still raised to rap on the glass, but it's floating there, forgotten, as he stares back at them, jaw slack, eyes glazed.
Oh. FUCK .