AS TIME GOES BY
Part 21Summary: It was a dark and stormy night.
Spoilers: Which probably won't happen again, what with this being southern California and all.
Pairings: Willow and Tara; Faith and Hope. ("One's a perky homemaker; the other's a brooding vampire Slayer. Put them together, and watch the whacky hijinks!")
Disclaimer: A quick glance at my portfolio reveals that I
have no portfolio. But if I owned these characters--which I don't--I'd store them in my portfolio. Except for Willow and Tara. I'd let them run around and play. And Faith. I'd
definitely take Faith out to play.
Distribution: Void where prohibited by law. Otherwise--knock yerself out. Just give due credit.
Shout-out to Debra for the info on a one-year-old's dietary considerations!*****
"I am stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey," Xander groaned as they stood in the parking lot of Simone's Seafood. "Excellent choice, kids."
Eight sated adults and a sleepy child were in various stages of post-gorge bliss, although Kyra seemed to have grasped that she was getting the short end of this particular culinary stick. She had wolfed down some avocado and shredded turkey before they left the house, and Willow fed her raisins and Goldfish throughout the meal, but both of them thought that shellfish might be too rich for her little belly. Kyra, though, kept glancing suspiciously at the succulent bits of lobster, crab, and shrimp that lay strewn about their plates. By the end of the meal, she looked positively disgruntled.
"And thanks for picking up the tab, Giles!" Willow enthused, affectionately linking her arm through his. The Watcher had insisted on paying for everyone, with one admonition: "If anyone holds back in order to be polite, I shall be offended."
Yeah, like that's gonna happen..."Yes, thank you!" Anya practically gushed. "I had no idea a near-suicide would leave me so starved!"
"It was like watching the Pacific Ocean get depleted before our very eyes," Buffy marvelled. "Which, actually, isn't so good, is it?"
"All I know is, I
love seafood," Faith announced, rubbing her tummy.
Don't look at Tara. Don't look at Tara. Don't look at Tara.They piled into two cars and drove back to Revello Drive, stopping by first Xander and Anya's house and then Giles' flat so that various toiletries and changes of clothes could be retrieved. "Grab enough for a couple of nights," Willow instructed, wondering yet again when she had become such a top.
Dinner had been suprisingly enjoyable, considering that five of them had given serious thought to taking their own lives in the last forty-eight hours.
We're so used to living in danger that we grab onto anything that reminds us we're alive. She suspected that if they spent all of their time in full recognition of their daily peril, their heads would explode.
The conversation had been a mixture of general conversation and gallows humor. Willow detected none of the awkwardness of the previous night. It was an odd dynamic, to say the least. None of them could joke about anyone
else's near-miss, but as the hours passed, each intended victim was more inclined to make what could only be described as defiantly, morbidly ironic references to her or his own experience.
"Well, sure I'm embarrassed about you guys seeing my Slayer-specific insecurity," Buffy admitted, cracking open a crab claw. "I'm just glad you didn't find out about my participation in the sex addicts group..."
"Buffy, that's not funny," Dawn hissed.
"She's right," Giles added, spooning up the last of his lobster bisque. "And I say that as someone who is much, much older than all of you and thus far more knowledgeable about such things."
"You're not helping!" Dawn said, glaring at him.
"What's that? You'll need to speak in my good ear."
We all use humor to cope with this. Willow glanced around at these people she held so dear.
Better than crack, I guess. But she and Tara would be having a far more serious conversation later, she vowed.
She wouldn't exactly say that Faith had
maneuveredher way next to Buffy; indeed, if there had been any conscious effort, it was certainly well-concealed on the Dark Slayer's part. And yet the two always seemed to end up side by side. Had Buffy noticed it?
What was going in Faith's mind? What was she making of the targets thus far? Did she assume that she was safe because she wasn't worth taking? And how much had Buffy's near-miss heightened Faith's feelings about the other Slayer? Faith was clearly protective of Buffy. Had the latter picked up on that surge?
And as always, Faith had kept one eye on Kyra. Willow remembered her own initial suspicion as if it were a thing of the distant past. Now she felt faintly heartened by the attention her daughter received. A Slayer,
another Slayer, who clearly doted on their daughter? Worse things had happened.
As they filed into the house, Xander asked, "OK, so we're having the Queen Mother of sleepovers. Where's everybody gonna fit?"
Buffy paused, hands on hips. "Let's see...What about this: Willow and Tara stay where they are. Dawn, you bunk with me, and Xander and Anya can have your room."
Dawn turned to face the married couple. "Fine. But if you even
think about doing anything that involves the exchange of bodily fluids..."
Xander looked horrified; Anya, thwarted. But they both nodded.
"Giles, you mind bunking on the couch?" Buffy continued.
The Watcher gave a wry smile. "Considering that I've spent nights in Xander's basement, I should hardly consider your couch incommodious."
"You spent nights in Xander's basement?" Faith asked, one eyebrow arched in consummate suspicion.
"They don't like to talk about it," Buffy replied, leaning over to "whisper" to Faith. "They grew apart when Xander learned to read on his own."
Faith nodded sympathetically.
"And we have an inflatable mattress up in the attic," Buffy went on. "Faith, howzabout you crash in my room with me and Dawn?"
Faith hesitated for a moment, looking uncomfortable.
"Is there a problem?" Dawn asked, surprised.
"No--no problem," Faith answered, but her grin seemed forced. "I just...You know, in case anybody snores or anything."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right. You fight the worst that hell has to offer, and some nocturnal wheezing tweaks you? And to this I say: Cope." But her tone held no anger.
Somebody won't be getting much sleep tonight...It was only a short time later that they all moved to their various accommodations. Everyone was tired, that was clear. "We can pick this up in the morning," Buffy announced, stretching. "Willow--good call on the break."
Willow felt herself blushing, and remembered yet again how far she had come. At first she had been eager just to tag along on Buffy's adventures. The discovery that she had something to offer had been an unexpected perk. Now, years later, she was able both to recognize necessary adjustments
and advocate for them. And her recommendations were taken seriously. She still carried that girl in the plaid jumper with her, but her wardrobe had expanded considerably.
Maybe there's room for all of me...There was, of course, the requisite jostling over the bathroom. "Put the freakin' seat down, Xander!" Dawn's voice bellowed through the house.
"Oh, sorry...That was me," came the apologetic British reply.
Tara chuckled as she and Willow headed upstairs. Kyra had fallen asleep on the ride home. "Well
this should be an interesting night's sleep for pretty much everyone involved," she said softly. A few minutes later, Kyra was settled into her crib. She kicked out, twice, as if to ensure that she had full range of motion should she need to leap up out of her bed, and then gave a heavy sigh, burrowing in. Tara gazed at her as she pulled the light blue blanket up to the tiny shoulders.
"Sometimes I think my heart would crack wide open if I loved her anymore. And then the next morning I love her more, and my heart has adjusted just fine." The blue eyes were soft as they turned to Willow.
Oh goddess...We need to have that conversation...And we also need to talk about today...Is there a 'Pause' button handy?"Tara," she began uncomfortably.
"I know," came the quiet reply as they backed out of their daughter's adjoining room, Tara pulling the door gently closed. "We need to talk."
"Um, yeah."
Tara sighed. "Didn't I say the same thing to you, like, two nights ago? God, Will--last week at this time we were getting ready for Kyra's birthday party. Demon-induced suicide really wasn't on our reading list." She shook her head. "Let's get ready for bed and have this discussion where we do all our best work."
Willow grinned in spite of herself. "Exposition and processing should never supercede good dental care," she nodded. Two brushings and flossings and a well-deserved bathroom break later, they were comfortably ensconced in their bed.
"So how you feelin', Baby?" Sometimes the simplest questions were the best, she decided.
"I'm guessing pretty much like you did, except maybe less so," came the thoughtful reply.
Willow looked at her quizzically. "Less so? What do you mean?"
Tara shifted. "Well, you were the first, Sweetie. And you came so close...God, it still wrecks me to think about it. But today's big grab...Well, I was part of a group effort; at least, to some extent. It's like the whole experience got...diffused, somehow. You know?"
But Willow could only shake her head. "Actually, I don't. I mean, I'm seeing it from the perspective of someone whose world only makes sense to the extent that you're in it. So when I think of it going after you, it just wipes me out."
Tara took her hand, pressed it lightly to her lips. "I know, Willow...It's just that...Well, maybe part of it is that I feel less exposed than you did. You were sort of front and center that night, remember. But today--well, today we were
all standing out there on stage, you know? We all did our little mortification monologue." She paused for a moment. "This may not make much sense, and I can't be sure because, well, I wasn't in anybody else's mind. But I think my attack may have been different; even from the other three today."
As if I weren't worried enough... "How?"
"Can you remember how yours talked to you? I mean, not just content, but
how? Like, do you remember any specific thoughts?"
Willow felt her stomach clench with the memories. "Um...Not likely to forget them any time soon." Her laugh was brittle.
"I know it hurts, Will. Believe me, I'm not keen on rewinding that tape myself. But it feels important somehow." Tara rubbed her back gently, holding Willow to this safe place with the touch.
"Well...I remember thinking, when you and Faith were banging on the door and you called me 'Baby,' that you didn't need to do that. You didn't need to lie." She looked up to see Tara blanche. "And...and I remember thinking that I loved you, and Kyra--right before...you know..." Tara's hand tightened over her own, and then she looked sharply at Willow, brow furrowed.
"Willow, was it
you talking to yourself? I mean, saying 'she doesn't have to lie to
me,' and '
I love you, Kyra'?"
"Yes. Definitely." She could still hear her own voice, muttering in her ear and pulling her toward the railing. "That would be the first-person singular."
"Yeah, well, mine was
second person, thank you very much," Tara nodded, biting her lip. "Or at least, it started out with a little back and forth, but then went into attack mode pretty quickly. It's like I was arguing with some
part of myself, but there were definitely 'you's' involved."
Willow considered this. "Do you think that matters?"
"I do. I'm not sure exactly how, but it seems like a different...
route, you know? Like a full-frontal assault, instead of my own ideas gradually turning against me."
"So...Why? What's with the different strategy?"
"Well, it seems like you guys had stuff simmering for a while. It sounds like the other three started feeling it last night...the irritability, the fatigue. And it continued to build up today. But Will, I really don't think I got hit until about mid-way through my lesson with Blake. And then it just slammed me with a literal vengeance. So maybe it
was in a rush, or pissed off. Because it started
off with all sorts of denigration."
"Like what?" Willow asked, her voice soft.
"Yeah...I figured you might ask that." Tara's smile was equal parts sadness and fatigue. "Oh, just your basic fun stuff: being unlovable; being bad; being unattractive..."
"Tara Maclay, don't you dare go all general on me now--" She broke off as Tara recoiled slightly at the sound of her last name. "It's about your family, isn't it?"
Tara nodded, pulling her knees up close to her chest as if anticipating a blow.
"I was thinking about you and Kyra, and how you're my family now and I was safe here and how much I loved you--and then this crazy thought popped into my head: 'Just like Daddy loved Mom.'"
Willow looked at her in shock. "Tara, that's ridiculous! I mean, not to be all disrespectful or anything, but..."
"I know. At least, I know now. But that's when the battle really picked up." Tara rested her cheek against her knees and closed her eyes.
"So it hits you in your weak spot," Willow said slowly. "That your family will somehow
still manage to drag you back."
"That actually ended up in second place," Tara countered with a humorless laugh. "The hands-down winner in that particular race was that you would get hurt because you were distracted worrying about all of my insecurities."
"Oh God..." Willow breathed.
"Yeah...It started off, I think, trying to make me feel guilty about
your attack. 'You did that to her.' I remember it so clearly...But I managed to fight that one off. Not because I hadn't felt it, but I'd already wrestled with it and I knew I definitely
hadn't kissed Faith and I just thought I was being self-indulgent...fretting about myself and my guilt complex instead of focusing on the problem." She turned again to face Willow with a sigh. "Then were some
lovely memories involving body image. That was fun. And I started remembering being in that house, and how screwed up and angry and cold everything got. Then I reminded myself that I got out and had a new family, and that's when it started in with how much my dad--or at least, the guy who raised me--loved my mom and look what happened
there. Then it segued seamlessly into how I told
you to be honest about
your insecurities but I don't talk about my family...Because if I did, you'd worry and you might get distracted and you could..." Here she broke off, huddling tightly into herself again.
"Die," Willow finished quietly.
Show your face, you son of a bitch! "I'd get distracted and something would kill me."
"Right." The word was barely a whisper. "And how could I possibly explain to Kyra that I'd gotten her mother killed?" A small shudder rippled through her.
Where were the words to wipe the afternoon away? Wasn't there something to make this just...disappear?
Apparently not. There were only silent kisses pressed into soft blond hair and murmurings of love and reassurance. But Tara would hold onto her own horror show just as Willow would hold onto her own. Tara would never forget believing she would cause Willow's death; Willow would never forget seeing Tara kiss Faith.
They sat in silence, huddled closely together, for several minutes.
"Tara, you know--please tell me you know--that you can tell me anything? About your family; how you feel about yourself...All of it. Of course I worry about you, Baby, but I also know you're more together than broken." Tara pulled back slightly to look at her questioningly. "What I I mean is, we're all broken, at least a little bit. That's what I figure, anyway. I'm still kinda broken around the unpopular, dorky thing; you're still kinda broken about your family and--for reasons I just do not understand--your body. But..." She trailed off in frustration. This felt so supremely important, but the words were putting up a fight. "Tara, I've been thinking about it and here's my hypothesis: If either of us were
totally damaged goods, we sure as heck wouldn't be fighting against the forces of darkness and
winning. I mean, do you know how many people would just think we were the coolest thing since cool beans if they knew what we did? OK, maybe not the snot demons and such, but still--we're, like,
heroes, Tara. And...And I know it's not about other people thinking we're cool or getting all validated from everybody else, because, hello: if there's a hole in the bucket, no amount of outside water's gonna fill it up. But still--I think we
have to know, at some level, that we're not totally screwed up because if we didn't we wouldn't even step up to the plate and yes, I know I'm mixing my metaphors but so be it." She finished sounding far more indignant than she'd realized she felt. She paused to draw a breath, and then looked at Tara uncertainly. "Am I making even one tiny Chicklet-sized bit of sense?"
"Yeah, Sweetie; I think so." Tara's eyes were beginning to clear, just a little.
"It's like...People talk about trying to slay their personal dragons, but maybe the trick isn't to slay them so much as...as negotiate a truce: 'I won't try to vanquish you, and you don't try to sabotage me.'"
Tara looked at her thoughtfully. "Negotiate a truce? You mean, make peace with our psyches?" Her laugh now was richer than the last two or three versions. "It's a crazy idea, but it just might work."
She could feel Tara edging back to her.
I will always find you, Tara. Always. A slightly gentler silence fell over them again.
Finally, Tara spoke, almost reluctantly. "Will, I still think there's something to the difference between my attack and the others. If I were betting, I'd say it was either angry or in a rush; maybe both. It started lecturing me, taunting me, so head-on. It was basically saying, '
You shouldn't bother Willow' and '
You'll have to explain it to Kyra.' And I'm telling you, Willow, as soon as it saw your note, it just improvised. It worked your note right into the diatribe."
Willow nodded slowly. "Tell you what: tomorrow we ask the others about it; how this hit them. The same kind of questions, OK? See if it looks like this thing is getting impatient. Because if it is, maybe it'll get sloppy, too. We could talk to people about listening to the voice, seeing how it talks to them. If," she added, "it goes after anybody else here. And that just opens up a whole
other batch of complications."
"Sounds good," Tara nodded. "Goddess, am I tired." She stretched, running her fingers through her long hair.
That is just such a lovely sight...As they settled down under their blankets to assume Cuddle Position, Willow said, "You know, I get that you have a whole early childhood/adolescent hell that whacked with your self-perception, Baby, but really...How could you not love your body?"
She felt Tara smile against her hair. "How could
you think you're a dork, Willow? And a non-sexy one at that? God, Sweetie, sometimes when we're walking along I'll fall back a step or two just to look at your cute little butt."
Willow pulled back to stare at her. "You do? You make up excuses to look at my...rear?" The word was almost a squeak. Tara's throaty laughter washed over her--sweet, and a little naughty.
"Remember last week? We were coming out of the party rental store? We walked about five yards and then I stopped to tie my shoe. You kept walking for a few 'cause you were looking the other way and didn't realized I'd stopped."
Willow thought back. "Yeah, I remember that."
"Sweetie, I was wearing sandals. Nothing to tie." Tara laughed again; this time naughty overtook sweet and jumped out into the lead.
"Well I am just...
scandalized, Ms. Maclay," Willow finally replied, and was glad to see no recoil from Tara now. "I do believe you were objectifying me."
"Oh yeah--totally," Tara nodded, seemingly more than pleased to cop to the charge. "Whatcha gonna do about it, girl?"
Well now that's just a challenge..."I could do a little objectifying of my own--within a completely loving and committed relationship," she added.
"But of course," Tara nodded. "Still--kinda makes a girl wonder what you have in mind..."
Willow hesitated, just for a second. "Tara, are you sure you're..."
'In the mood'? That sounded sorta cliched...
"You know, ten minutes ago I'd have said most definitely not," Tara admitted. "But goddess, Willow--we haven't made love all week. We've been majorly with the cuddling and the comforting and the processing but not so much with the erotic. And I'm missing the erotic, I have to say."
Had it been a week? Yeah...It really had. How very unacceptable. And she herself was certainly feeling that twisting, tugging in her belly. Ever since Tara had stretched, and her breasts had been outlined under her nightgown, Willow had been having the naughtiest thoughts...
Does Tara know that always turns me on? 'cuz really, it seems almost strategic..."Oh, Baby--I would so very much like to show you all the ways that I absolutely, positively adore your
mphh." Words came to a crashing halt as Tara rolled over onto her back and pulled Willow onto her, kissing her fiercely.
"Less talk. More tongue," came the simple request.
I can do that...And do that she most certainly did. Their lovemaking had always been of the Baskin-Robbins variety: so many flavors; so many options. And she could feel Tara's urgency rolling off of her.
We're alive. It could have so easily gone the other way, but it didn't.
She luxuriated in the feeling of Tara's warm, full body now rocking gently under her own. Her hands slid under the nightgown, playing just-this-side-of-tickle against Tara's ribs. She propped herself up on her left arm, letting the fingers of her right hand graze closer to one full, sweet breast. She knew Tara's nipples were already hard; she had seen them darken under her gown. And now...Now, as her thumb swept along the underside of the taut flesh and closer to that swollen nub, she heard the tell-tale hitch in Tara's breathing.
Oh, I love this part...She slid her hand back away, just long enough to shift her weight and pull Tara into a sitting position. Blue eyes gazed at her, fierce and expectant, as Willow pushed the gown up and over her head, tugging it off over the outstretched arms. Tara's fingers were snapping open the buttons to her own nightshirt. After the last had been undone, she edged the garment back over Willow's shoulders.
Willow just gazed at her for a moment. "God...I just never get used to how beautiful you are." Then she pushed Tara back down onto the pillows, hovering over her for one moment before lowering herself into the sweet warmth of those breasts, that belly.
Nothing...Nothing could ever feel this good. She felt her own nipples press into Tara's as she tilted her lover's head back in order to taste every bit of her lips, her jaw, her neck. Even as she wondered if she should slow down, she felt Tara grip her shoulders and push her lower. Willow acquiesced, until her mouth was poised just over one full breast.
Oh, I will have all of you... Tara's fingers tangled in her hair, urging her to take her breast into her warm mouth. But Willow resisted, just for a moment...And then she relented, and closed her lips hungrily over the taut, swollen nipple. A muffled groan greeted her.
She sucked fiercely, needily--first one nipple, then the other and then back again. She felt Tara's legs fall helplessly open beneath her.
Oh, my girl is so hungry for this... She could feast on this her entire life, and never be full.
After a few moments, she felt Tara shift beneath her.
Ah--I know what she wants.She reluctantly pulled her mouth away from Tara's breast and leaned forward until her her lips were pressed against her lover's ear. "Roll over, Baby," she whispered. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
Tara gave a slight nod, and Willow slid back, feeling Tara twist beneath her.
She loved this view...Tara's long, tapering back that flared out to such wonderful, strong hips...hips that were now rocking back expectantly, needily.
"I know what you want, Baby," Willow whispered. "You want me in you--don't you?"
"Yes. I want to feel you slide into me, Willow," came the hoarse reply.
Willow remembered the first time she felt Tara take her, take the fingers that pressed and slid and pumped into her. "I never dreamed I'd like that," Tara said later, flushed. "But you...It's...God, it's so good how you take me..."
Willow edged forward again, letting her breasts press into the surprisingly muscular back.
No one knows how strong you are...Nobody sees your muscles ripple like I do, like I see when you're rocking back onto my fingers... She slid her hand down over the full, round hips and then further still, down until she felt the warmth of that place...
She teased that opening, knowing that Tara was already wet; knowing that Tara could take her so easily whenever she finally plunged into her. Ah, but not yet...Not yet...Still such pleasure just from tracing tiny circles closer, and closer to where she would go. She heard Tara's groan of impatience.
"Soon, Baby...Soon..." She knew she'd pay for it later--later tonight; later that week--but it was a payback she was willing to make. For now, Tara was completely hers, stretched out under her and open for her, wanting her...
"Willow, please," came the whispered plea.
"Shh, Tara...There are people here...So many people...We can't let them hear anything. We have to be so quiet..." Tara looked back over her shoulder, shooting Willow a glare of simultaneous reproach and arousal. Willow's fingers traced closer, and then stopped, poised just at the very edge of Tara's opening. "Even when...even when I..." And she plunged, deep, into that wetness and that heat, watching through a haze of lust as Tara's back arched and her hips rocked back against her. "Even when I take you, like this..."
There was a choked moan as Tara pushed back into her. Her fingers were gripping the sheet, flexing convulsively. Willow swallowed heavily and watched Tara rock and grind to the rhythm she set.
We are so good at this...She pushed again into the warmth; felt the warmth welcome her, close around her. As she reached the deepest, hottest place, she curled her fingers back and dragged them over the ridged wall close to Tara's opening. After plunging into her lover again, and then again, she stopped suddenly and withdrew her fingers. Tara groaned her frustration.
"Shh, Baby. We have to be so quiet." Willow reached down to spread herself open and then pressed herself into Tara's thigh. She had to bite back her own cry, dropping her head to Tara's back. She took one moment to savor only that sweet feeling, and then she plunged into Tara once more. Sweat ran between her breasts and Tara's back; Willow felt herself sliding over the smooth flesh with every thrust.
"Do you want to touch yourself?" It was a game they played. Not exactly Willow giving Tara permission to stroke her own clit, but somehow that element--Tara waiting until Willow suggested it--made the moment even sweeter, thicker with heat and need.
Tara nodded, looking back at Willow once more, biting her lip. Then she shifted slightly, raising herself just enough to slide her hand beneath her and reach down, to that swollen nub that Willow had taken into her mouth and teased so many times. Willow knew when she had reached it. She knew from the shuddering of Tara's breath; from the quickened rocking her her hips.
"Does that feel good, Baby? Touching yourself like that while I fill you up, plunge into you?"
"You know it does," Tara groaned. "It's so good with you, Willow."
"Shh," Willow whispered. "What if someone heard? We can't make any noise, Tara...No matter how much you wanna moan; no matter what you wanna do when I pull out like this...and hold, here, just barely touching you...and then pump back into you." She watched the muscles in Tara's back twist and writhe as she took Willow into her. Willow pumped steadily now, nipples dragging across Tara's back. "That's right, Baby...Look at how you spread yourself open for me." Her left hand was gripping Tara's bicep, squeezing the firm muscle fiercely.
"No one can hear us, Tara...And you're so turned on, and so wet...Feel how I slide into you...So easy...So slick..."
Tara groaned into her pillow. "That's right...You wanna moan, don't you? I can tell you're getting close...You're squeezing on me; pushing back at me...And you wanna cry out so bad, don't you?" Her own wetness surged out of her, coating Tara's leg as she rocked herself into that sweet, firm flesh.
"You gonna come for me, Baby? Shh...Shh...I can feel it...That's right--take me. Take me all the way, Tara. Take everything I have. It's all for you."
She loved this--thrusting into Tara and then teasing her on the way back out, just to her opening...Playing with that sensitive flesh while Tara stroked herself and bucked beneath her...All the way back, and then--ah, yes--the push, the plunge back into all that wetness, so slick and warm, that clenched around her.
And Tara...So close; she could feel it...Just another stroke...And one more...
And then that twisting, shuddering spasm that ripped through her, brought her hips off of the bed until Willow's fingers were buried so deep within her that Tara couldn't possibly take more...until Tara's one last push forced Willow just...slightly...deeper.
Oh God...This...Always, this... They hung together in that moment, entwined and joined, inextricable.
Finally they both collapsed, Willow's breasts and belly pressed wetly against Tara's back. After a long moment, she gradually eased her fingers out, away from all of that sweet cream. It always felt so cold, in that moment, away from the heat. She watched as Tara pulled her own hand away. The back of her hair was damp with sweat.
"I love you, Tara," she whispered simply.
And then Tara rolled over suddenly, her eyes dark with what Willow recognized as hunger.
How many times have I seen that expression? And always, the deep answering ache in her own belly.
Tara grabbed Willow's right leg and pulled fiercely, tugging until Willow was straddling her belly. "You. On me. Now." Tara didn't give sexual orders often, but when she did...Oh, she was so good at it. She was clearly in no mood to tease. She was hungry, and Willow would feed her.
Without a word, Willow edged herself to the top of the bed until she was poised just over Tara's mouth.
"Give it to me," Tara commanded her. "I need to have you, Willow."
The full, soft lips...lips that were stronger, more forceful than anyone else could realize at the sight of a shy smile...Willow lowered herself to those lips, and choked back a groan.
Tara was the last person to brag about herself but Willow knew it to the bone: Tara had a gift for using her tongue and mouth and lips to take Willow to such beautiful, decadent places. The thoughts she had; the images that played in her mind as that tongue stroked over her stiff, throbbing nerves and back, further, to reach the wetness that spilled out of her.
"Drink me, Baby...Drink all of me..." Willow clutched their headboard, grinding desperately into that urgent, searching mouth, welcoming the tongue that probed into her so knowingly, so demandingly.
Oh my...I cannot last long...She looked down, and her eyes locked onto Tara's. The blue eyes grew so dark when she was turned on, so fierce and hungry.
Oh goddess...What's she doing to me? She was helpless with need, so close to her own release...And still Tara stroked her, relentlessly, circling her clit and sucking just the tip into her mouth before releasing her and sliding back to pull more of Willow's cream onto her tongue.
"Tara...Baby, I can't take it...So good...Tara, I'm so close." She could feel it, the coiling that started low in her belly and spiralled out, white-hot and relentless, expanding until it pressed against her throat and her fingers and most of all, sweetest of all, against the heat of that place where she joined with Tara and it was so good, it was--oh--incredible and no one, God, no one could know how this felt...
And then she was shuddering, wrenching as her climax ripped through her taking every bit of doubt and fear and stripping it bare, leaving something clear and white-hot and pure in its wake. She reached down, not even sure how she managed to breathe, and caressed Tara's hair as the waves finally began to recede. She saw the sweat that was trickling down her arm; didn't bother to wipe it away.
This is what we make...all this heat...Finally she shifted her weight, feeling her legs precarious beneath her, and flopped down next to Tara. Her beloved looked at her, her expression serious, and uncertain. Willow felt a sudden spasm of fear.
"Willow, did--did you come?"
Willow pressed her hand to her mouth to smother her laugh and in so doing, breathed in the scent that could still leave her head spinning. "I kinda think so, yeah," she finally managed.
That night they both slept better than they had in a week.
*****
To Be Continued
).
Excellent update. And a wonderful, positive resolution to my heart jumping in my throat last time.
...I promise. Willow and Tara won't be the only ones sleeping well tonight. 