A/N: I give you Soccerward and Trainerella! This o/s was written for Smut Monday on Twilighted 7/12/10. My thanks to manyafandom for having me *giggle* and for being all around fuckawesome. I got to go see Eclipse and hang out at Starbucks with her, and she's sofa king fun.
Huge thanks to Kassiah, who I literally couldn't have done this without. She provided fuckhot picspiration, talked me through brainstorming and outlining this piece, and preread to ensure hotness. Thank goodness for friends with dirty, creative minds! Mad love to Chele681, my magical beta, and to MsKathy and ECullenitis for prereading & suggestions.
The usual disclaimers apply...no copyright infringement intended on characters & whatnot owned by other peeps (who actually make money off their stuff). This hot piece of Jock-Assward is all mine.
I loved soccer.
Since seeing my first FIFA World Cup when I was three years old, I had been addicted. My dad was a sports fanatic, so if it was on ESPN, he was watching. Since I loved my dad and wanted to emulate him in every way, I too watched every sport that came on our favorite channel. That had been my first exposure to soccer, and after that year's tournament, I insisted I needed to play.
The following spring, my parents signed me up, and I'd been running, kicking, dribbling, and making diving headers ever since. I'm not too proud to admit that I could do a little front hand spring throw-in from time to time as well. Seventeen years had made me pretty damn good, and my commitment to the sport had also made me co-captain of my Division I team my junior year of college. I had always worn the number nine on my jersey, and after so many years, teams, and tournaments, it was like a sign of my accomplishments that I carried with me.
My many years on the field had a few downfalls, though. I had broken my left ankle when I was fourteen and sprained it less than six months after my cast was removed. Ever since, I'd taken care to get it taped before each practice and game. I had not majorly reinjured it, but there were times, after strenuous work outs, that I could feel some irritation that would require ice and elevation. I refused to take any chances; a permanent injury would be devastating.
All things considered, I always developed a good relationship with my team's trainer. In college, it was usually the student trainer who took care of me, with periodic checkups from the head guy just to make sure I was still doing all right, since taping an ankle was a minor, routine job.
That year, we knew the head trainer, Emmett, was getting a new assistant since his student assistant had graduated the previous spring. Imagine all our surprise when a girl walked into the locker room with Emmett on the first day of pre-season conditioning. A very pretty girl with perky little tits and long dark hair that fell down her back like an arrow pointing to her ass.
Damn.
"Hey guys, it's great to be back here with you for another season. I hope it will be one with as few injuries as possible, right?" Emmett said, smiling brightly. He had been a football player in college, and he was an enormous dude. His demeanor was almost a contradiction of his appearance, though; Emmett was one of the friendliest, nicest guys I'd ever met. "For you newbies and transfers, I'm Emmett McCarty. Everyone, I'd like you to meet my new assistant, Bella Swan. Coach and I both expect you to treat her with the same respect and courtesy you gave Ben these past few years."
Everyone nodded and murmured their understanding, saying hello to Bella and waving. After a few more announcements from Coach, those of us who needed to see Emmett proceeded to his office, and everyone else headed out to start stretching. Since the season hadn't begun and there weren't many medical concerns yet, only two of us followed Emmett and Bella.
"Spencer, over here with me. Masen, Bella's going to take care of you this year. You know the drill." Emmett immediately got to work on assessing Eli Spencer's knee, since my teammate had undergone arthroscopic knee surgery in the spring. I hopped up on the table and waited as Bella prepped her supplies.
"I'm Edward," I said when she came over.
She smiled at me. "I gathered that. Plus, Emmett gave me the run down on you. Left ankle wrap every practice and game from a previous injury. How's it been this summer? Have you been running on it?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I run pretty much every day. No problems with it. I kept it wrapped and iced when anything felt off. So how'd you end up with the men's soccer team, Bella?"
She got to work, speaking casually as she did her job. "I've been doing this in some form since ninth grade. I started out helping the trainer at my high school, mostly with soccer and track. I did my first two years of college at Community, but I had to transfer here to complete my Sports Medicine degree."
"So you requested soccer?" I asked. Our light conversation flowed easily, even though we had just met. Bella was obviously comfortable in this setting.
"Sort of. When I was assigned to my advisor, he told me men's soccer and both basketball teams had openings for student trainers. Since I'm already familiar with the game and the usual injuries in soccer, it was the obvious choice."
Not once did she mention being a girl working around a bunch of guys. I guessed it was just weird for me since I'd never had a female trainer.
"I'm a junior, too," I added as she finished and secured the tape after she cut it.
"Cool. Now get out there with your team. I won't be your excuse for being late!"
As the season progressed, I had many more interactions with Bella, and the more I was around her, the more infatuated I became. Despite the stigma that was often attached to community college, Bella wasn't some stereotypical underachiever who didn't have any other option. I learned that her dad was a small town cop who had raised her on his own. Bella had actually gotten into the university her senior year of high school, but when she compared the price of tuition, she felt it would be wasteful when there was a less costly option. She seemed so level-headed for someone our age; it was resourceful to knock out all her core classes at less than half the price before transferring here to complete her degree, and I could tell that she was confident in her decision.
I had to admit I respected her for how hard she worked to pursue her career and help her dad out in the meantime. She was also smart, witty, laid back, and completely at ease around a team of sweaty, crude male athletes. All that combined to make her even fucking hotter to me.
It didn't take long to realize I wasn't the only one who thought so. There was always someone commenting on how good she looked, how nice she smelled, or in some more vulgar circumstances, how fuckable she was. I never admitted how much those locker room conversations irritated me. In a way, I felt possessive; I had been the first person she treated, and I got to see her every day.
The more time I spent around her, the more I liked her and started thinking some of those dirty thoughts myself. It was difficult not to when Bella smiled at me, her dark chocolate eyes gleaming with that undeniable spark she possessed. I'd begun to think she was growing more flirtatious with me, but then I would catch her speaking animatedly with another one of the guys and smiling, and I wouldn't be so sure.
As we got into the latter portion of the season, behind the scenes talk about Bella escalated. I couldn't blame anyone for looking, because Bella was very pretty, but a number of the guys claimed that she wanted to fuck them. Speculation flared about why a hot chick like her would want to be a trainer for the men's soccer team if she wasn't fishing for attention and ass. And then there were the bets. In conversations I didn't participate in, several of my teammates challenged each other to see who could score with her first.
I hated that their stupid conversations changed my perception of her, but with the constant exposure to their assumptions, they did. There was one day they pissed me off enough with that shit that I slammed my locker door unnecessarily hard.
"What's your problem, fucker?" our goalie, James, asked snidely.
"I'm just tired of you guys obsessing over Bella. I fucking get it already. She's hot. But the only reason you do it is because she's the only chick around. There are thousands of others on campus, so just find someone else already," I replied angrily.
"Dude, the only reason you have got your panties in a twist over it is because you wanna nail her just as much as the rest of us, but you're the only asshole making puppy eyes at that little bitch."
That set me off. I moved to shove James' ugly face into the grate of his locker, but Laurent, a French study abroad student, grabbed me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Settle down, my man. She's just a girl, and like most of these college girls, she probably likes to fuck. Don't you believe she's already screwing Emmett? I'm sure of it."
"Fuck off," I scowled, pushing him away from me. I was incensed, and if I stayed around those guys any longer, I would have started a fight. I definitely wasn't in the mood to get in trouble with Coach, so I grabbed my stuff and headed home without showering. I'd rather be sweaty and nasty than be near those assholes.
No matter how hard I tried not to, I couldn't keep myself from considering all the bullshit the guys suggested. Could Bella really be screwing her boss? Did she flirt with everyone on the team? Maybe she did and I just couldn't see it because I was too infatuated with her. It put me on edge at our next practice, and when I had to go get taped, I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eyes or start a conversation.
It continued that way for over a week. I was standoffish and quiet around her, even though she was just as friendly toward me as she had always been. She never forced conversation, but she was her normal self. I watched her more carefully around everyone else, and every smile seemed more suggestive; each graze of her hand on their arm or leg appeared to linger. It pissed me off because, somewhere in my head, I actually believed that she was mine even though I really had no claim on her. If those other guys wanted to whack off thinking about her, it wasn't my place to care. Not that I wanted to hear about it.
We had a big game on Saturday, but I'd been so on edge lately that I couldn't resist the call of a loud, raucous party. I needed some release and freedom, so even though I didn't drink, I still went. I hung out with my friends, then immersed myself in the energy on the dance floor, pushing my body against the variety of girls who danced with me. Distractions. It didn't fix anything, but it was a band-aid. Despite the handful of chicks I knew would've been willing to hook up with me, I went home alone. I woke up a little tired but in much better spirits after a night out to clear my head.
"Excited for the game?" Bella asked as she taped my ankle.
"Yeah, I guess. Why?" I asked.
"You just seem to be in a better mood. You've been a little distant lately."
Her comment struck an ugly chord in me, dissonant and unsettling. She had noticed the change in my behavior. I wondered if she understood why. Still, I managed to push those thoughts away as we chatted for a couple more minutes while she finished. Unexpectedly, I felt better after our interaction. If she had cared enough to notice a difference in my behavior, maybe she wasn't just some flirtatious, opportunistic co-ed.
Just before I left, she placed her hand on mine and gently brushed her thumb over my knuckles a few times. "Whatever's stressing you, channel that onto the field and kick some ass." With a bright smile, she released me, shooing me out with the team.
We took the field for warm-ups, but my eyes kept darting back to the sidelines, watching Bella as she and Emmett set up their station. She pulled my mind in a thousand different directions, and I had no idea what to think or feel about her anymore. I knew there was only one way to figure out who she really was; I had to ask her out. Fuck what anyone else thought or said.
In the blink of an eye, that resolve evaporated and morphed yet again. From across the field, I watched one of the guys from the opposing team run over to Bella on the sidelines and lift her off the ground in an enthusiastic hug. I stopped paying attention to my warm-ups and gawked at the scene. It obviously wasn't a first time meeting, and I squinted to see the name "Kyler" on the back of his jersey. Garrett Kyler. Coach had told us about that guy; he had led their team in goals and assists for the past two seasons. I had no idea how he knew Bella, but they looked awfully friendly as he cupped her face and smiled at her. She certainly didn't mind his affection, reaching up and fluffing his spiky, sandy-colored ponytail.
"Masen!"
I heard my name a second too late and took a speeding ball hard in the stomach. The force made me stumble back a step, but I righted myself immediately, shaking off the shock of the impact. At least it hadn't been six inches lower.
We cleared the field a couple of minutes later, and after meeting with Coach, the captains from each team gathered with the head referee midfield. I adjusted my Captain arm band as I walked out, then straightened the sweatband over my forehead, making sure than my messy hair would stay back. When I was across from Kyler, I stared at him, glaring.
The ref went through the usual greetings and reminders, and when the captains exchanged handshakes, I gave Kyler an extra hard squeeze. His good natured smile faded, and I felt smug that he looked a little intimidated...or at least confused.
As we returned to our teams, I glanced over at him one last time and watched as he kissed his pointer finger and made a gun-shooting motion toward someone on the sideline. I followed the motion just in time to see Bella giggling and shaking her head.
That was when it hit me. She had obviously fucked this guy. I instantly hated him, and I hated that I still wanted her despite my realization.
I proceeded through the first half of the game playing harder than I had all season. I always went for my best, but there's a limit between playing at peak and pushing yourself to a point where you might not make it through the entire game. I didn't care about physical exertion, though. I wanted to annihilate the opposing team, as if it would prove something to Kyler.
By the half, I was heaving for breath and my face felt inflamed. I chugged several cups of Gatorade in succession, not pausing to consider that the liquid might upset my stomach, but I didn't really care at that point. As the team headed for the locker room, Bella trotted up beside me.
"Hey, let me check your tape when we get inside. You've been playing really hard out there and I want to see if you need a rewrap."
Just hearing her voice made my blood boil. I couldn't...I wouldn't deal with her. Every word she said was just another reminder of how fucked up my mind was over her.
"Go check on someone else," I snapped, pulling my arm away when she reached out and touched me. "I'm fine."
She attempted to protest, but I picked up my pace, leaving her behind and entrenching myself within the team as we entered the locker room. There was a subtle ache in my ankle from all the exertion, but it would be fine. There was no way I was going to let her touch me, especially when every time I looked at Bella, all I could see were my fantasies of her, except now they were Bella with Garrett Kyler instead of me.
On the way back to the field, I saw her coming my way, but I dodged that bullet again. I was anxious to get the game going and hopefully keep my mind occupied while running off some of my aggression.
Even though I was a bit crazy out there, things seemed to work out in our favor. I managed to score once and had assisted two other goals, putting my team up three to one with less than ten minutes left in the game. Even with that lead, I couldn't keep my eyes off Kyler. He enraged me just being there, and I found myself growing so hateful toward him that I just wanted to take him out. Once the idea was in my head, I couldn't erase it.
When the opportunity came, I didn't even stop to think. I couldn't see or hear anything around me. All I knew was that Kyler had the ball and was very swiftly headed for the goal with it. It didn't matter that I was a forward and had no business going after him. My mind couldn't even rationalize the fact that I was blowing past midfielders and defenders on my team in my pursuit. The only thing that registered was bolting in front of Kyler and knocking the ball away from him. Then we were both tumbling to the ground - me sliding and feeling a sharp pain jolt through my leg, and him rolling over me, knocking against me in several places.
A whistle blew, and as I lay on the ground clutching my leg, I heard and saw my teammates surrounding me. Emmett and Coach pushed through the crowd, followed by a cacophony of voices asking me what the hell I was thinking, some confused and others enraged. Hands covered my legs, carefully patting along them and straightening them out, as Emmett asked me if anything hurt. He helped me to my feet, and as soon as I stood, I could feel the pain in my quads. I had definitely pulled something, but I was able to walk, so the muscle didn't seem to be torn.
As Emmett turned me to leave the field, I glanced toward Kyler, and there was Bella, leaning over him and saying something I couldn't hear. I hated the way her ponytail fell beside his face. I despised how familiar she appeared with him. I turned away quickly, unable to witness that car wreck any longer.
To add insult to injury, as soon as I took a few steps, the referee was in my face, holding up a yellow card. I simply nodded, my face stoney, and put my head down as I limped off the field.
Coach was beside me, speaking menacingly through gritted teeth. "Masen, get your ass in the locker room with Emmett. You obviously can't play any more, and I will deal with you later."
I went without argument, and after Emmett checked things out, he still believed it was a pull and not something more serious. Not that I was very helpful or friendly. He hadn't done anything to upset me, but my mood was shot with little chance of recovery at that point.
"Listen," he said, taking a step back from me. "I don't know what's gotten into you or what the hell you were thinking with that stunt on the field, but this is your playing career, Edward. If you want to fuck it up, then by all means, go ahead, but I know what it's like to lose your dream on account of an injury. Just don't be stupid, okay? If it gets worse or anything else happens, go to the hospital and get it checked out, got it?"
"Yeah," I agreed weakly, nodding.
He left me alone, and a few minutes after hearing the locker room door slam shut, noise filled the room with the return of the team. Anyone who attempted to say something to me or look at me was shut down with my "fuck off" expression.
When Coach began our routine post game talk, I was still pissy. He stopped speaking abruptly, took one look at me, and told me to wait for him in his office. I had taken my jersey off when I left the game in an effort to cool down, and it was hanging around my neck in the perfect position for me to tug hard on it with both hands. Nothing I did seemed to calm me, and the longer I had to wait, the more frustrated I became. All I wanted to do was get a shower and get the fuck out of there. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to think about soccer anymore.
Needless to say, Coach ripped me a new one once he came into his office. I had never angered him like that, and he tore me to shreds about everything from leaving my position on the field to injuring another player, no matter how minor. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that if my injury healed well enough for me to resume the season, he was going to make my life a living hell. Worst of all, he stripped me of my duties as co-captain until I got my shit together.
Fuck.
By the time he let me go, the entire team was already gone, and the locker room was silent. Coach set the locks and told me to get my head on right before the next practice, and with that, he was gone.
As I approached my locker, I yanked my jersey from around my neck and balled it up, throwing it with an angry grunt. Instead of heading right for the showers, I leaned my forehead against the neighboring locker, banging it a few times.
What the fuck had I done? I was standing there, after having my ass handed to me, balancing my weight on one foot because I had a self-inflicted injury. And over what? A girl? I was an idiot.
Since my day only seemed to be getting worse, I turned when I heard a door and saw Bella coming out of the trainer's office. I squeezed my eyes closed, willing her to just go away.
"Edward? Are you all right?"
"Just dandy," I grumbled, not looking at her.
"I'm serious," she replied sternly. "I don't understand what the hell happened out there, but I...I didn't want to leave without checking on you."
"Like I said, I'll be fine. Go home, Bella."
"You're obviously not taking very good care of yourself, so at least let me help you."
I turned, unable to deny the softness in her voice, and I saw a genuine sincerity there. She held up her tape scissors, wiggling them as a signal to sit down so she could cut off my wrap, as she normally did after practice and games.
I was silent as I sat and extended my legs, peeling off my cleats, socks, and shin guards. She straddled the bench near my foot and began her work. I tried not to look at her; I tried to remain cold and aloof, as if she didn't affect me in ways I had no control over.
"How's your leg feel?" she asked after setting her scissors aside.
"Hurts, but it'll be fine," I mumbled.
"Emmett said he thinks it's just a pull. Why don't you let me see if I can work some of that out?"
With her hands wrapping around my calf as she spoke, I found myself unable to deny her. Bella's hands were warm and soft against my skin, and her fingers immediately began kneading my tired, sore muscles.
"You don't have to do this," I protested weakly. God, it felt good, though.
"I know," was her solitary response.
As she continued, inching up my leg very slowly, I fought my body's reactions to her. Her ponytail had loosened over the course of the game, and a few pieces of short hair fell around her face in a delicate frame. Her hands, while silky, were strong and precise in their actions. What she was doing felt so enticing, borderline sensual, but I inwardly reminded myself that it could not be that way with her. She had no idea why I was aggravated with her, and since we had developed somewhat of a friendship over the course of the season, she was probably just being nice and trying to help.
My tension spiked when she moved to my thigh, though. My irritated quads needed the relief she was providing, but having her touch me that way, so close to my uncontrollably awakening dick, was a little torturous. I stared down at her hands, attempting to focus on the way the massage was soothing my pain and not how turned on I was becoming. It was even worse that she periodically asked me how I was doing, changing the pressure of her touch to accommodate and help me. Her voice was soothing and sweet, making me want to forget everything that had happened that day and just sink into the comfort of her presence.
My eyes squeezed shut when she hit a particularly sensitive spot, and she remained there for several minutes, rolling her fingertips into my skin and smoothing out the pressure in the muscle. I relaxed significantly, but with my eyes closed, I was unprepared when her hand moved a little too high, a little too far inward on my thigh. I jumped back, my eyes flying open as I gaped at her.
I swore and stood quickly, moving back toward my locker to collect my shower things. I needed to get away from her. I was still mad at her, and she was manipulating me. Before I got far, she grabbed my arm in protest, trying to turn me toward her.
"Edward, wait!"
I spun around and glared at her. "Wait for what, Bella? I don't want to play fucking games with you right now. Go find some other athlete to toy with. I'm sure Kyler wouldn't mind a little action for old times sake."
She moved in front of me, squeezing my forearm tighter before I could shake her off. "Garrett? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh come on, Bella. Everyone can see it. You flirt shamelessly, and you seemed awfully familiar with that guy earlier."
"Well you don't know what you're talking about Edward. And you're wrong about me. Completely off base."
The tone of her voice had thickened to rival mine, and she wore a serious, frustrated look on her face.
Impulsively, my arms rose on either side of her until she had backed herself into the lockers. My hands fell flat against the metal on either side of her. I moved closer, little by little, watching uncertainty claim her expression. As I bent toward her, my forearms came to rest where my hands had been. Then, without warning, I pinned her body to the cold metal with mine and stared at her. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she never did, so I kissed her. Hard. Forceful. Spiteful. It was over nearly as soon as it had begun, and I sneered down at her.
"Was that what you were after?" I found my shampoo and soap and walked toward the showers without looking back. "Go home, Bella. We're done here."
Outside the large, open shower room, I grabbed a towel and hung it on the hook nearby before turning on the water and waiting for it to get warm. Standing just beyond the spray, I let my shorts drop and hung them beside my towel. I was about to finish undressing when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Shocked, I turned to face Bella, while clad only in my Boxerjocks.
Without speaking, she locked her gaze with mine and dropped down on her knees in front of me. She didn't seem to mind the water flowing toward the drain and soaking her pant legs.
Inside, I was panicking. I was supposed to be the one in control of this situation. I had told her off with my action and my dismissal, but she had apparently called my bluff. No, I wasn't necessarily bluffing. I was still frustrated and confused about fucking everything, but pushing her away was my only hope of staying in control. Did she have any idea how mixed up and out of order she made me feel?
"I wasn't done," she said, her voice lower. Her hands came to rest on either side of my calf, slowly sliding up until she reached the back of my thigh. This touch was a transformation from what she had been doing just minutes earlier. She set my skin ablaze, and when I looked into her deep, determined eyes, I was hopeless. I wanted to push her away, but I just...couldn't.
"Bella," I said in a warning tone, but it was all I could manage. We both knew it was a weak, pathetic attempt to halt her advances.
As her fingers dug into my quads, skillfully resuming her massage, she continued, speaking softly. "I've known Garrett since high school. We were never involved. He has been dating my friend Kate since we were sixteen, so between that and me being a trainer for the soccer team back then, he and I are good friends."
She kneaded harder, making my knees buckle for a moment, but then she resumed a steadier pressure. "Edward, I have never fucked around with any of the athletes I work with. Never. This is the future of my career we're talking about. Do you really think so little of me that you believe I would put that in jeopardy or earn myself a reputation like that?"
Bella's eyes dropped for the first time since she had come into the showers, and the movement of her hands stopped, even though they remained in place on my leg. As intense and unraveling as her gaze had been, I immediately missed it.
"But you... you've contradicted all my plans and rules. You shake my foundation." She looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw vulnerability in her eyes. Confident, secure Bella was vulnerable. To me. "I know there's something here. Even if you want to act like an ass, it's undeniable, and it kills me to see you get upset and not understand why or what's going on with you."
While Bella spoke, slowly revealing her feelings to me, she walked on her knees, effectively guiding me under the hot stream of water from the shower. I felt the luscious heat as it rolled down my shoulders and watched it hitting her as well, seeping through her clothes and making them cling to her frame. Her fingers moved now and then, but they lacked pattern or intention on my muscles any longer. I was losing the fight with my self-control; I grew harder with each touch.
As water cascaded over both of us, darkening Bella's hair and intensifying this strange, combustible moment, I finally snapped. My hands moved under her arms, yanking her up until she was standing flush against me. I held her close with one arm around her waist, and our eyes met again. I was trapped there, scrutinizing her words, her desires...my body's reaction to her. She'd had her face inches away from my cock, for god's sake! I had felt her breath on me.
Water ran in my eyes, but even with my vision blurred, what I needed to do remained clear. Slowly, I dragged my hand up her back, her neck, and into her hair. I found the elastic of her hair tie and pulled it gently, tugging her ponytail out.
"Much better," I whispered as my lips found hers, and I kissed her the way I truly wanted to - the way our first kiss should have been. She didn't seem to hold anything against me for that, though. As it deepened, pulling me into her mouth and her world, I finally released all the tension, anger, and irritation I had been feeling lately. I forgot about stupid assumptions and undeserved reputations. Instead, I focused on the fact that I had been hoping for this opportunity for months (okay, maybe not this particular opportunity, but you wouldn't find me complaining) and it had finally come my way.
Once we had begun, I knew I was in too deep, drowning in everything she offered. All of my stupid assumptions fell away, and I knew she had been honest with me. That was when the magnitude of her feelings for me finally clicked. If she had never gotten involved with any of the athletes she treated, there had to be a good reason she was making that exception for me. I realized that I wasn't the only one who had been warring with my desires; she had tried to resist - a futile effort on both our parts.
Suddenly, my mind and body caught up with one another, and I became uncontrollable, rough. I practically devoured her, and she was just as crazed along with me.
Eventually, needing a moment to catch my breath, I pulled our mouths apart and rested my forehead on hers. I was clutching her hair behind her ears, keeping her close. As the water cascaded over us, I knew I wanted more of her, but I needed confirmation from her before this went any further.
"Is all that true? Everything you said?"
"Yes," she breathed. "I've tried so hard to hold off, to at least make it til the end of the season, but I just..." Instead of continuing, her fingernails raked up my back, sinking into my shoulder blades and holding me tighter. It was all I needed.
I'd like to say her clothes came flying off after that, but that was impossible with as water logged as they had become. Instead, we worked together, releasing each layer from her body and tossing them into a heap on the floor. Her shirt, then her pants. A cream colored bra, speckled with lacy flowers, then a moment's pause to touch her bare breasts and kiss my way across warm, wet flesh. Finally, Heaven, as plain pink underwear were wiggled down her legs. I didn't even give a fuck that her undergarments didn't match because she was my fantasy come true, and she didn't need to look like a lingerie model to be everything I wanted and needed.
I took a moment to stop and examine her body, devouring every detail, curve, and little freckle. I ran my finger down between her ribs, dipping it into her belly button and smiling crookedly when she squirmed at that. My hand trailed lower, but she stopped me. I smirked and tried again, but she held firm.
"Wait," she ordered, tucking her fingers into my Boxerjocks. My gratitude went to Under Armour for keeping everything secure while I was playing, but peeling those things off while soaking wet wasn't the most graceful event. Bella bit back a giggle as I stuck my hand into my underwear and held everything in place while she pulled them down. When I'd kicked them away with her clothes, she stood upright again, laying her hand over mine until I allowed her to replace it on my stiff cock, and she tentatively began to stroke me.
Everything felt completely surreal and primal all at once. Was I seriously in the locker room shower, naked, with my fantasy girl, the soccer team's trainer? Fuck yes, I was.
My lips returned to hers frantically, demonstrating how badly I wanted her. We pressed ourselves together tightly, and it was sensory overload having her with me that way. My hands couldn't seem to stop moving, feeling every inch of her I could manage, until I finally made my way between her legs. She didn't give any signs of hesitation, so I slid my fingers along her wet lips, running back and forth in a few teasing strokes before sinking them into her pussy. Her body reacted to my touch immediately, squeezing, and she moaned against my mouth. She continued to touch me, sliding her hand down and rounding the head before moving back again for another swipe. Thank god she had given me that massage or my leg might have become too sore to stay standing. Regardless of any discomfort I felt, I pushed it away to focus on her and everything she was doing to me.
Sooner than I'd expected, she shuddered and shook over my hand, pressing her clit toward the heel of my hand as I moved my fingers in her. When her body had calmed, I pulled her hand away from me and lifted her up. I was done with the games; I needed her completely, if she would let me. Her legs moved around my waist, granting me permission as I supported her ass, and I was ready to dive right in, to have her completely, here, up against the shower wall. I spun her around until her back met the cold tile. She cried out for me as my lips explored her neck and collarbone, but just as I was positioning myself to give us what we both wanted, a moment of clarity struck us.
"Condom," I groaned, loosening my grip on her.
"Fuck," she whined at the same time. "Do you have any?" she asked hopefully.
"No," I moaned miserably, leaning my weight against her. I was awash with a combination of disappointment and anger.
Her arms wrapped around me tighter, running up and down my back as we both wallowed in our unhappiness and coming down from our lust high.
"Wait!" she said suddenly, perking up. "There are some in my office. In Emmett's desk."
For a moment, I stiffened at the mention of Emmett and condoms. "Wait, you and Emmett aren't..."
"God, no!" she practically yelled. "No, never. I just saw them in there one time."
"Okay, good," I said, my smile returning. I readjusted my hold on her and turned off the water, not bothering to question why the hell our trainer kept rubbers in his desk drawer. Reaching for my towel, I tossed it over her back and carried her toward the trainer's office, leaving a trail of dripping water along the way. She giggled, asking why I was carrying her. I happily silenced her with a nibble on her ear.
Pulling the towel down, I laid it on the edge of the desk before dropping her to sit there. She was still very wet, as was I, and goosebumps scattered across her skin. That was fine, though; I planned to warm her up in just a moment. I found the condoms and made quick work of one. As I came back to Bella, I silently thanked Emmett for being such a tall guy and needing a higher desk...and for keeping nothing on his desktop but a calendar...and for having those blessed condoms in there.
She pulled me in for another fierce kiss as my fingertips tickled her pussy, checking to make sure she was still ready for me. When I was certain, I held myself in place and studied her expression. Her eyes were half-closed as one side of her mouth tipped upward and she nodded.
"You're so sexy," I muttered, kissing a path toward her ear. "Beautiful. So gorgeous."
Her sweet moan as I penetrated her was the most amazing sound I had ever heard in my whole life. I wanted to record it and play it on repeat. Instead, I settled on the equally enticing noises she made as I began to move in her, thrusting forward and pulling out unwillingly.
It wasn't the most coordinated sexual encounter, given the environment, our slippery bodies, and my bum leg, but fuck, was it hot. Bella encouraged me with her words and kisses, telling me where she wanted more and how hard. I knew her fingernails were going to leave deep marks in my skin from the way she clung to me, but knowing that she was coming undone for me only fueled my desire. She could have drawn blood for all I cared at that point; it would have been worth it.
Laying back, she planted her feet against the edge of the desk and opened herself wide for me. Her hands curled around the side beside her feet, white knuckled and fighting to keep her grip. She was completely laid out for me, and it was an absolutely glorious sight. Her tits bounced and jiggled in the most delicious manner with each thrust, and I could tell how much she was fighting to hold her position. I gripped her hips forcefully, holding her close to the end of the desk as I slammed against her. Within a few short minutes, I was done. The wild look on her face, the tight angle, and the noises she made - just for me - had combined in the perfect way. As my cock pulsed inside her, I moved my thumb over her clit and rubbed quick, purposeful circles until she arched up, lifting her hips toward me.
After pulling out - rather reluctant to give up the heat of her body - and discarding the condom, I awkwardly climbed onto the over-sized desk with her and lay on my side. I was practically panting, and I rested my head against Bella's heaving chest. I just needed to be close to her; hearing her heart thump loudly was a bonus for my pride and satisfaction.
"That was...mmm...yeah," she muttered. I chuckled at her incoherence and kissed the swell of her breast lightly.
"I think I need another massage now."
"No doubt," she quipped, ruffling my hair. "I'd be happy to give you a good rub."
Her suggestive words sent a tingle up my spine, and I found myself looking forward to much more than a leg massage.
After a few minutes of snuggling and coming back to Earth, I knew we needed to move. It was extremely uncomfortable on the desk, and I was starting to feel cold. We stood, and I handed Bella the towel to wrap around herself, since there was only one. I couldn't hold back a hearty laugh when she pulled out a bottle of cleaning spray and paper towel to wipe down Emmett's desk.
When she was finished, she turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I think we need to go give that shower another try. Maybe at your apartment?" she asked innocently.
"Definitely," I replied with a smile. I didn't bother resisting my urge to taste her rosy lips again.
Letting go of me, she leaned over and opened Emmett's desk drawer. Pulling out several condoms, she smiled cheekily and walked out of the room, turning to wink at me over her shoulder.
"You coming, Number Nine?" she called as I watched her barely covered body retreat.
I smiled widely and turned off the office lights. "God, I hope so..."
E/N: Do yourself a favor and go to the Under Armour website and search "boxerjock." You won't be disappointed =)
Special note for my E/B readers - Remember that time I told you I was going to write another E/B multi-chap? You know, back in February when I finished NMTB? Well, I'm actually getting ready to start one! Finally! Thanks to all of you who have kept me on alert despite the constant influx of non-canon I post. The working title is "Make It A Part", so keep a look out for it!