Hi Kittens - Well, here's the update, a bit later than I'd expected, but hey, I'll be writing more tomorrow and I'm off on Tues. too - Yay!
So what can I tell you about the next bit? Um, probably no ice, or cold showers, or thudding helmets/pillows will be necessary. Probaby you can blame the weird week that I've had for that....
Rating - PG13 - R for sexual situations, innuendos, semi nudity, and just stuff.
Angst warning - 7/8 on a scale of 1-10.
******
It was all she could do not to skip.
Such a beautiful, glorious day! It cried out for skipping. But if she skipped she’d really seem like a dork. Wouldn’t she? Tara glanced sideways at Willow, who was smiling slightly at nothing – and everything.
She gave the hand she held a little squeeze, felt Willow squeeze back, and throwing caution to the winds, skipped a few steps.
“You’re happy,” Willow commented. “I like it when you’re happy.”
“You make me h-happy.”
“I do?” A note of wonder suffused Willow’s voice.
“Yes. You make me very happy,” Tara confirmed, with an emphatic nod that loosened the hair that she had tucked behind her ears. She skipped another few steps.
“Happy because I’m holding your hand?” Willow asked.
Tara nodded and gave her hand another squeeze. And for other reasons too, she thought.
Willow glanced down at their joined hands. “It’s just sooo strange how nervous I am to be doing this with you, and when I do it with Buffy I don’t even think about it.”
She turned a little to smile at her lover. “I’m n-not Buffy. I understand …”
Willow interrupted, “But why should I feel differently about it? She’s a girl and you’re a girl, and no one, well, uh, not too many people know we’re girlfriends and since those that do know wouldn’t care if I’m holding your hand, then why am I nervous about the ones who don’t know that we’re uh, girlfriends? That’s just soooo wrong of me.”
Tara parsed the Willow-babble carefully and decided she did know what Willow was saying, and that it was in fact what the onslaught of babble had prevented her from stating. “Y-You know the difference, sweetie – and because you do, you think everyone else does. That everyone seeing us thinks “oooh, lesbians”. We’re not wearing a sign that says that.”
She kept to herself her feeling that while Willow might be almost ready to admit publicly that they were lovers, she wasn’t ready to admit to being a lesbian – and that really was the crux of her love’s difficulty.
“So am I going to feel weird now when I hold Buffy’s hand?” Willow’s voice shook just a little.
“I d-don’t know, sweetie. Maybe?” Tara had no verbal reassurances for that question, and was pleased that they were almost at her dorm’s side door. Inside, she’d be able to hug her lover without restraint. They entered the basement common area and headed up the steps to Tara’s floor.
She noted the heightening color on Willow’s cheeks as they passed some of the students in the hall and gave her lover’s now icy cold hand a reassuring squeeze.
Willow finally broke her silence with a sigh. “It’s just that … It’s all just sooo stupid. This is … thinking this way is just wrong, but I can’t stop, and it’s making my stomach all acid-y.”
Tara hoped she could make it better inside as she fished in her pocket for her key. The door was a bit of a problem to negotiate since neither of them was willing to unlink hands. Almost in one motion she closed and locked the door, dropped the blanket and the bag, and pulled Willow into her arms. She gently rocked her love, swaying from side to side and letting her bury her face in her shoulder.
When Willow finally lifted her face, her green eyes were welling with tears. “You must h….”
“No, n-never. I would never ….” She refused to finish the phrase she’d interrupted. Gently she cupped her lover’s face and kissed the tears away. Drawing her close, she whispered, “I love you, Willow Rosenberg. I love you with all my heart.”
This wasn’t how she had imagined saying those words out loud to Willow for the first time. She’d usually dreamed of saying them while they made love, but there were other dreams too: dreams of kneeling before her offering a ring as she said the words; dreams that involved other jewelry, or flowers; there was even one incredibly silly one involving strawberries and cream .…
Never had she imagined speaking them while she held Willow’s sobbing body in her arms. And yet those few words fit this time, this occasion perfectly. They resonated in this here and now, their meaning and importance heightened by Willow’s need.
Her lover pressed into her body, and Tara tightened her arms about her.
Holding. Loving.
*****
She didn’t mean to be doing this. Any of this. She just hurt so much inside. Usually it was safely tucked away. Barricaded really – not tucked – because it was pain and it hurt. Tucking away was what you did to things that were nice, and fuzzy, and warm. This pain was none of those things, even if – in a way – it arose from nice, fuzzy, warm circumstances. None of it was Tara’s fault. She was just here when the barricades broke down. Not really her fault at all, even though it was Tara-love that had eroded the foundations of those walls. It all came rushing back. Jesse, dear dead Jesse, not seeing her while he looked at every other female in the world. Ice cream on her nose and Xander preferring to kiss someone they both despised. Her mother not caring enough to notice that she’d cut her hair and her father not around enough to have known that she even had hair. Angelus killing Ms. Calendar who did care about her. Oz finding love with another beast rather than staying with boring Willow. Giles treating her like a willful child …. And Buffy. Her best friend choosing to hang with Faith rather than her, choosing a bunch of soldier guys over time with her. It hurt sooo much, but usually she could deal with it. She could close a door on it or push it under a rock. But not today. It was too much today, what with the addition of all her other anxieties, raising the levels so that the combined neuroses just spilled over. The other anxieties – the ones that involved Tara. The “did she-didn’t she” love her and the “was she-wasn’t she” gay now and especially the “oh-god-I’m-falling-in-love” thing all churned with the hurt until a whirlpool sucked at her soul. She was so confused. But … she did know some things. Some things were clear even in the midst of her turmoil. She had never, ever felt this way about another person. Not even when it had been good before, not even with Oz, had she felt like her heart was being held in warm hands. It would be so much easier if the person holding it was … wasn’t another girl. But easier didn’t mean better, and often meant not as good … right? And why the hell was it called being “gay” anyway? She certainly didn’t think the emotions she was feeling were what Webster’s suggested as synonyms. On paper it looked like such a happy little word. Gay. Warm, bright, birds singing, flower petals in the air, dancing choruses. Not that she was really that naïve. Well, she was, she admitted with an inward nod, but not about what being gay was likely to mean. It was going to be scary. Like being on a whole other Hellmouth. The whole thing made her palms sweat. So … she loved a girl, loved Tara. And she was falling “in love” with a girl, the aforementioned Tara – which probably meant, if she were honest with herself, that she was kinda gay. And since she was a naïve geek, that was probably why she heard birds singing and saw the air filled with petals when she looked at Tara. She just didn’t want a chorus of dancing anythings to suddenly join them. Grimly she swept the combined hurt and pain and anxieties into a mass and pushed it back over the damaged wall. She stepped back and surveyed it. The thing leaked, but at least it was made out of wood and concrete, not earth; she didn’t need to stick her fingers in any holes. That imagery was just too weird. She looked up in Tara’s face and hedged. “I can’t skip.” Sniffling a little still, she wiped at her nose.
“That’s okay, sweetie. I can.”
****
She pressed her lips to Willow’s forehead and brushed them over her damp cheeks, tasting her love’s emotions. She was beautiful even when she cried! And skipping – Tara knew that none of this was about the ability to skip. She’d triggered this – not specifically today, this moment, but she knew she was the catalyst. At least she was there to comfort Willow when it happened.
That her lover still evaded – still wouldn’t speak – about them … well, that was okay.
For now.
And while she wished her declaration of love had been able to stop Willow’s tears, she understood why it hadn’t. Willow was still horribly conflicted about her own feelings. She had no doubts that the clever brain in the beautiful head was processing the words and that Willow admitted them internally. If she denied them she would have been pushing her away, not pulling her ever tighter as she cried, right?
It had been the right time to pledge her love, even if she knew that Willow couldn’t acknowledge it.
Yet.
But her sweetie was so brave. She rested her forehead against Willow’s and swayed with her, listening to her breathing even out, become less halting. And when she judged the time was right ….
“Hey.” She lifted her head from her love’s and looked into the slightly reddened eyes..
“Hmmm?”
“I still have that chocolate, if you w-want it.”
“Choc ... chocolate.” Willow’s voice was still a little bit choked, but she smiled. Or rather, her mouth smiled. The green eyes had the same expression in them they’d carried the night that they had moved a soda machine together.
Oh yes! Tara’s soul leapt and spun around, skipping madly.
“Yes, ch-chocolate,” she said it calmly and almost clearly, in spite of what was happening inside her heart.
“And … what were you planning to do with this chocolate?” Willow inquired, her eyes lightening as mischief slowly pushing the awe back.
“Feed it to you?” she suggested.
“Oooooh, how?” Willow waggled her eyebrows.
Tara laughed, amazed again at her lover, who had never had any hesitations about the physical aspects of loving a woman. Willow’s hesitations were about … everything else.
“Ummmm, I was thinking with my fingers?” She had other ideas, of course, but she wasn’t certain if those were appropriate now.
Willow blushed and tossed her head back, sniffling a little still. “We could melt it. And …” She ducked her head in a gesture almost like Tara’s habitual one. “And I could lick it off you.”
No, not shy about the physical aspects at all! Tara rummaged about in her jacket pocket with one hand. She showed Willow the somewhat misshapen candy bar. “Melting probably isn’t necessary.”
“Where’d you have it? I mean, I looked …” her lover’s gaze dropped to her breasts. “But you said it wasn’t there.”
“Under my right thigh.”
“Ooooh, tricky woman. I like that.” Willow snuggled closer. “So can I lick it off?”
“Off wh-what, sweetie?” Tara teased – and wondered if her lover would be able to tell her.
Willow tilted her head back, smiling slyly. “Well, I have some ideas, but I don’t think I should say. I think you … um, no, we should undress, and climb into bed. Then you should shut your eyes and let me play.”
She smiled, and teasingly lifting the chocolate up over her head, she caroled, “What would you do for a ….”
“Chocolate bar?” Willow finished with a grin. “That’s not the right ending, but hey, it fits. And while you have a beautiful voice and all, I think what I’ll do is ….”
Willow-hands that had been quietly resting on or caressing her back as they held one another formed pointy little fingers and began tickling her sides.
“Oh, n-no, Willow, please!” She squirmed and twisted herself out of her lover’s grasp. Ducking and dodging about the room, she evaded Willow’s relentless pursuit. Finally, she paused at the foot of her bed and held the chocolate outstretched in one hand.
“Ahhh, a bribe. And what guarantee do I have that you won’t pull that out of reach again, hmmm?” Willow stalked around her grinning, circling ever closer.
Tara said nothing and just stood still, breathing a little rapidly from the tickle-chase, as her lover came within reach and closed her hand about hers. She felt the chocolate squish a bit at the additional pressure. Closer and closer Willow came, her motion forcing their joined hands down and to one side, until their bodies touched.
“Here.” She released it into her lover’s hand.
****
“Wise woman.” Willow stowed it in her own jacket pocket with a smile and slid her hands over Tara's sides. Soooo ticklish, she thought, noting the minute flinch that preceded her lover’s quiet sigh of pleasure. “But I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”
She caressed Tara, her thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts as she slipped her hands under the light jacket and pushed it off her love’s shoulders. Her girlfriend cooperated, shrugging a bit so that it slipped down her arms and over her hands to be tossed casually toward the rattan chair.
Willow tugged the long-sleeved t-shirt up and unbuttoned the soft corduroys. She brushed her fingertips over her lover’s soft tummy, feeling her skin flutter and hearing her soft intake of breath. Her hands slipping within the pants and over the firm bottom, she pulled Tara closer.
“What about your clothes?” Tara murmured in her ear.
“In a moment,” Willow replied, nuzzling her face into the soft skin of her lover’s neck. She felt Tara’s hands slip under her jacket, un-tuck her shirt and slide up her back. Skin. Her skin against Tara’s skin … it just felt so good. She sighed and her lover’s arms tightened about her in a gentle hug.
She loved the holding, the cuddling.
She’d always loved it – with Xander as a child, with Buffy on sleepovers. And with Oz, she had come to crave it.
Her fingers found and unhooked the clasp of Tara’s bra. She lifted her head from its pillow and pulled shirt and bra up – pausing while Tara lifted her hands – and over her lover’s head. A gentle toss sent them sailing towards the chair too.
Willow’s eyes dropped automatically to Tara’s breasts. She really couldn’t explain her fascination except – possibly – that she had next to nothing compared to them. Soft but firm, warm and yielding, she delighted in touching them, in making the coral nipples harden, because that was the first step in making Tara moan happily.
They were hard and erect now, simply because she was there – aroused without the benefit of her touch or her lips and tongue.
That was one of the big differences between her two lovers.
Even when it had been good with Oz, there had been a wall between them. Possibly it was only the wolf thing. Possibly it was more.
She had been the one pushing for the physical; he hadn’t. He’d been reluctant. And in what universe was that normal? But when they had finally made love, it had been good. Not that she had any basis for comparison, but she thought it had.
But it hadn’t been like this. She couldn’t keep her hands off Tara and Tara couldn’t keep her hands off her. More, she … they … seemed to have no barriers between them, no secrets. It was just her and just Tara, becoming … more.
She couldn’t help but compare that with Oz’s distance, especially at the end … with Veruca.
But how much of what she felt with Tara was because of the Nether Realms spell? If they hadn’t done that, if she hadn’t come back to Tara’s loving, if they hadn’t shared everything because of that spell, would she be feeling so … connected … to this beautiful woman?
Except she had felt a bond with Tara since the first time their hands had touched. Was magic what drew them together? Was that the attraction and the glue?
But it made her head hurt and her heart ache to even consider not being with ….
“W-Willow … sweetie.” Tara touched her cheek with the back of her left hand.
She must have been motionless, just thinking, for long moments, because her lover looked extremely anxious. Her serenity and happiness appeared to have fled, replaced by a tense frown.
“Tara,” Willow heard her voice break around her lover’s name. “I ….”
“W-We don’t have to do th-this now.” Tara’s voice held nothing but reassurance, belying the look on her face. “If you don’t w-want to.”
“I know.” She heard a pitiful quaver in her voice. She closed her eyes and felt Tara lean toward her, their foreheads touching. “I know, but see I do, I just ….” She inhaled and tried again. “Let’s do it your way. We can play with chocolate another day.” She tipped her head back and opened her eyes, giving Tara her best brave smile.
“Y-You’re s-sure? You are okay?” Tara wasn’t fooled by the smile.
“I’m fine – just overly emotional today. Mood swings are us.” She frowned suddenly. “Actually, that could be it.”
“What?” Tara asked.
“Um, my girl-thing.” She could feel her cheeks redden. “My period – I might be getting it. I’ve been irregular since going off the Pill, but before that, well, I’ve always had wicked PMS. I get cranky.”
“Oh.” Tara nodded a little bit, and then a bit more energetically. “Buffy’s on the Pill, isn’t she?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied quizzically. “Why?”
“You and Buffy were probably cycling together, but you’ve been spending a lot of time w-with me lately, and um, well, I th-think, between us, we’re pulling your natural cycle off,” Tara explained.
“So mood swings ARE us.” Willow nodded. “Do you get cranky? ‘Cause I’m thinking if we’re both, y’know, at the same time, then it could be bad.”
Tara shook her head slightly and smiled. “No. I just get quiet.”
Willow felt her eyebrows lift in amazement at that statement and couldn’t stop them.
But her lover only smiled a little more and said wryly, “Well, okay, I get quieter.” Tara tilted her head to one side, and stated deadpan, “I understand that chocolate is good for mood swings.”
“I’ve heard that too,” she acknowledged.
They slowly smiled together.
“So do you want to …?” Tara asked, her lips quirking to one side.
“I’d love to have you feed me chocolate.”
******
Edited by: Triscuit7 at: 9/7/02 7:43:37 pm
Anyway, I always know where to find any of them. A book in the wrong place sticks out like a white brick in a red wall!
Too funny.
If it was, then that was a rude nickname. 
I knew in the end, that no matter what they did, she would still want to eat that chocolate. I know I wouldn't be able to resist.