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whatmakesyouhappy
I do that, with stories I really enjoy. Read from the beginning while waiting for the next chapter. Wait over. Hope it pleases.
masterjendu
Hi. Thanks for hitting that comment button, it's appreciated. As for small moments, I'm in complete agreement. It's always a small gesture, a word, a touch that sends our worlds in totally different directions. I hope that this story continues to please.
So, I've been staring at this pretty much since I posted the last chapter. I've almost scrapped this several times to rewrite it, but decided I was just totally nervous about the whole thing. I hope it lives up to expectations. You lot are actually incredibly easy to satisfy, and I thank you for that. Here's to hoping. (Oh, also -- this is long.)
Chapter 13
“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
-George Eliot
Portland, Oregon
September, 2008
Willow’s heart pounded violently in her chest. The blind panic that had been the wait in her hotel room had nothing on this: a terrifying sensation that her frantic mind searched to name. Willow Rosenberg, for all of her brilliance and tendency to babble, lost all capacity for words. She made no movement to rise from her seat as the auditorium cleared around her. She sat, immobilized, staring fixedly on the beautiful woman who was standing stage right, talking with a crowd of people. Her eyes made quick work of the familiar form, encased quite differently than she remembered. The Tara of her memory was always in a waitress’ uniform. She hadn’t realized that until this very moment, that even in her fantasies, Tara wore the black pants, white button down shirt and tie of a waitress. She nearly laughed out loud but she found she had no oxygen to spare. Her breathing was erratic in the way of total panic.
She fidgeted in her seat, glancing down at her attire with a growing concern that she didn’t look half as good as she should. Perhaps it would have made more sense to come in something decidedly low cut, the way Xander had suggested to her when they were out of earshot of Buffy and Dawn. His boyish grin had done nothing at the time to alleviate the desire she had to punch him in the arm after he had claimed that it was certainly one way to get a girl’s attention.
Still, not all hope was lost. Tara’s eyes kept drifting over to her, the one lone audience member who had not jumped on the gigantic meet and greet line or wandered out the door. She must have at least some of the woman’s attention. It had been Tara who had locked eyes with her in the midst of her reading. It had been Tara that had nearly caused a heart attack in the midst of her huge event by leveling the expansive blue of her eyes at Willow, who had smiled coyly and read some very dirty language. Listening to Tara read was something akin (she imagined) to being fed a pill that caused orgasm at the slightest touch, being strapped naked to a table without anyone touching you for six hours, and then suddenly feeling hands all over your body at once. Or something like that that’s not so weird. She shook her head to dismiss the thought, and missed Tara breaking away from the line of waiting people.
It was impossible to miss her agent? begin to assauge wounded egos of the long line of people Tara had left behind. One particularly upset woman took to swearing, and the poor man swept his glasses off his face and began cleaning them with a sense of disdain. Tara had disappeared somewhere back stage, and Willow’s heart gave a saddened thud. Dawn was wrong. She doesn’t want to see me. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Her head dropped down, and she stared at her lap, trying to will away the tears beginning to form in her eyes away. Her frustration grew as the hot tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped into her hands crossed on her lap. She sighed, fighting back the urge to scream. A hand on her shoulder made her jump three feet into the air. She landed with a thud and shot a glare at the person who had disturbed her.
A very sorry looking Powell’s employee didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m sorry to bother you.” The boy shifted his weight from foot to foot, and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair.
“What is it?” Willow answered, trying to keep her voice level and failing.
“Uh… Miss Maclay has asked for you to join her?” Justin, his nametag read, smiled reassuringly at the redhead before him.
“I’m sorry?” Willow asked, wiping at her tears impatiently.
“Miss Maclay? Uhhh…” Justin glanced around looking for someone else to help him communicate with the woman. “She wants to know if you’ll come backstage and talk to her?”
“Yes!” Willow yelled, not meaning to. She winced at the loudness of her own voice, even as she jumped up and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
Justin grinned, and waved an arm in the direction they were headed. “If you’ll just follow me…” He waited for her at the end of the aisle, and walked beside her silently. Her gaze wandered towards him once or twice and he continued to smile at her.
Willow followed him on shaky legs, cursing her stupid behavior. Still, the emotional roller coaster she’d been on wasn’t nearly half over and she wasn’t sure if she could take much more. Tara. It was all about what Tara would say. Willow couldn’t imagine, mostly because she couldn’t imagine what she would say either. Please don’t babble. Please don’t babble. Please don’t babble. She begged herself over and over again.
* * *
Tara paced, nearly tripping over her own two feet. What the hell do I say? What do I say?!? Hi Willow, it’s good to see you? Do I just kiss her? Do I hug her? How do I greet her? Hi Willow? Hi? It’s been eight years and you say hi? You don’t know her. You only know what Dawn tells you, and that’s barely enough to even figure out what kind of food she likes! Heaven help me. She froze as she heard footsteps behind her. She heard Justin’s voice clear as day behind her. “Tara?” He asked. “I brought her.”
Tara didn’t turn completely towards him, afraid she’d catch sight of Willow and she’d been unable to look away. “Thanks, Justin. Do you mind if we talk alone?”
He grinned, though neither of the women saw it. “Absolutely. Talk away.” He slipped away from them, Tara with her back still half turned, and Willow with her eyes completely closed. It wasn’t until they heard the soft thud of the door closing that they turned their eyes to one another for the first time in a very long time.
At least I haven’t passed out yet. Tara thought to herself as her eyes swept over Willow’s form. Her red hair was as vibrant as Tara had remembered, her green eyes beacons in the midst of beautiful skin. Those eyes that stared at Tara the same way she stared back. She had trouble letting go of them to let her gaze wander over Willow’s body. She had definitely matured, Tara saw evidence of the eight years they had been separated in Willow’s face. Her form, still thin and yet curvy where it mattered, bid Tara’s eyes welcome, its curves and lines invitations that Tara’s hands were all too happy to accept. Still, as their eyes met once more – those emerald orbs stained red with tears that Tara’s heart sunk to see – there were so many words left to speak before such things could be granted.
For Willow’s part, she was congratulating herself on not breaking into a long stream of reckless babble. As her eyes scanned the form of her new companion, she couldn’t help but to think how gorgeous Tara was, how achingly beautiful every single bit of her was. Staring at this woman in the dark of the emptied stage, she knew why she had waited eight years for one person. Her body flooded with the same nervousness she had felt for weeks before, giving her limbs a jellied kind of feeling that made it impossible to step forward or move back. Tension began to build through her form. I can’t do this. She felt her body start to turn and she begged herself to not run away. Please. Don’t turn away now. Her body severed the connection to her brain, and total panic took over. Her body flew into survival mode and she felt herself start to turn away. Please, god, stop me from doing this. The voice was small in her head, and she desperately wanted to be brave, but how could she in the face of everything she had ever wanted and knew she could never have. How could this work out? How would it work out? For her? Measly Willow Rosenberg who has spent her entire life up to this moment hiding from what she wanted?
Tara watched the panic flood Willow’s face and she watched the girl begin to turn away. Her mind flooded with words to say, stop, wait, where are you going?, and finally, “Willow?”
Willow froze at the sound of the voice directed to her, but didn’t turn back. Her body still said flee, but her mind managed to regain control. She froze in place, waiting to hear, desperately wanting Tara to save her from making this mistake. Is it fair to ask this of her? To stop me from running away? Have some courage. Turn around. Please, turn around. She pleaded with herself, tears of frustration forming in her eyes.
Tara took a step towards the girl, knowing that the fact that she stopped at all was a good sign. C’mon, Tara, have some courage. She kissed you, all those years ago… it’s your turn. “Willow?” She called again, taking another step forward, examining the girl’s frozen form, turned away from her. She received no answer, but there was no movement away. Finally, she stepped up next to Willow, their bodies mere inches away, and stopped. “Willow, please, turn around?” She tried her best to keep the desperation out of her voice. Willow couldn’t fight the urge to run. She wanted desperately to turn around and face Tara, she wanted to throw her arms around the girl, but her body refused to cooperate, as if some magic had taken hold of her and her body was no long hers to control. Her foot lifted. She lurched forward. Then, the miracle happened.
Tara saw Willow’s body move away from her. She watched, helpless, as the seconds turned into small eternities. She saw Willow’s foot pick up in the beginning of a run, and she knew. She reached her hand forward in slow motion, her eyes closing as her fingers connected with Willow’s. She grasped the hand in hers, cementing her grip around Willow, and then loosely bringing their hands together.
Willow stopped moving. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt an electric shock run through her body as their hands connected and interwove. Tara was holding her hand. Thank you. She sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening. She flexed her fingers against Tara’s in their handhold, enjoying the feel of the woman’s skin against her own. She was riveted by the kind of surge that ran though her entire body, the surge created by the warmth and softness of Tara’s hand, it ran through her, down her spine and back up again. She felt her body give over to her mind’s control finally. She sighed a happy little sigh. There was a pressure from Tara’s hand, a pressure that directed her to turn and meet Tara’s full gaze. She took a sharp intake of breath, and turned towards the woman, forgoing the voice in her head that screamed at her to run, and listening to the call of her heart to stop moving and look. She opened her eyes to see Tara once more.
And she could see her, truly, for the first time. She could see written on Tara’s skin in bold letters, every moment of waiting they had endured, every second she had thought of giving up and hadn’t. She felt silly now, as they locked eyes again, at how nervous she had been that Tara hadn’t wanted to see her. The woman before her, those blue eyes that danced over her skin with a gaze that felt like a hot touch, this woman had wanted. She wants me. Willow knew it unequivocally in those moments, she knew it to her core. And with a deep, shuddering breath, she opened to her.
“Tara Maclay.” Willow’s lips danced to a smile. “You have no idea how happy I am to know your name.” Tara opened her mouth and closed it, still searching for the words. Willow’s smile grew, and she waved a hand between them. “I’m not sure if this will make sense to you at all…” Willow glanced up, making sure she had the girl’s attention. “But I’ve missed you a lot. I know… that we don’t know each other or anything. But there’s something about you, you just, you got stuck in my head really fast, and there have been so many wonderful things that have happened, kind of because of you, if that makes sense at all. I’m sure it doesn’t. How many times can you ask a person if something makes sense to them without them answering? In any case, I just, I’m so glad I’m here with you.”
Tara brought her free hand to Willow’s cheek, the smile she gave in response growing more breathtaking with each passing second. “I’ve missed you too. Babbling really does run in your family, huh?”
Willow’s face contorted into puzzlement before she broke into a wide smile. “Dawn?” Tara nodded at her. “She spends too much time with me.”
“She loves you very much.” Tara responded, running her hand over Willow’s face before dropping it back down to her side. “This is very weird.”
“Being here with me?” Willow asked, cocking her head to the side with a small smile gracing her features.
“Yes, being here with you!” Tara laughed. “You look older.”
“Older?” Willow’s face twisted in distaste.
“Mature. Sexy.” Tara blushed, the heat flushing her cheeks red.
“Sexy?” Willow’s voice edged on hopeful, and she grinned at the woman.
“Beautiful.” They hadn’t realized how close together they were until that moment, the air between them charged with the courageousness of their flirting, which gave way to boldness in other ways. Their manners had eased, and they regarded each other with an identical smile, small, barely there, but one that spoke of the pleasure of their company.
“That’s not the first time you’ve called me beautiful.” Willow dropped her gaze to her shoes, suddenly incredibly interested in the color of them. She smiled downwards, happy that she’d risked bringing up the beginning. She shuffled her feet, edging herself dangerously closer to Tara.
“No, it’s not.” Tara smiled. “I’m amazed you remember.”
Willow laughed out loud. “How could I possibly have forgotten anything about you?”
* * *
“How did they look?” Dawn demanded. “How did they seem? Did they say anything with you there?” Dawn’s eyes swept over Justin’s face, trying to gauge any form of reaction. “C’mon, anything… please?” She pleaded with him.
Justin, for his part, tried not to grin at the adorableness that was Dawn Summers. “They didn’t say anything with me in there, Dawn. Willow was crying when I walked up to her, but when I told her Tara asked to meet her privately, she hugged me.” He paused for a moment. “Which I’ll take as a sign that she likes me – even if she doesn’t know who I am.”
Dawn grinned at him, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Well, she’ll like you forever now.” She rested her head against his chest, inhaling slowly through her nose, enjoying the lingering scent of his cologne. “Thank you for helping us.”
“You’re very welcome, Summers.” He circled his arms around her and pulled her close. “How could I deny you?”
“You could have said no.” Her answer was muffled by his shirt.
“How could I have said no after you backed me into a door and laid one on me?” He grinned mischeviously, his blue eyes dancing.
Dawn groaned in embarrassment. “I guess that’s true.”
“I’m glad you did. Rona kept telling me that you liked me, but you played it pretty cool around me.”
“She told you?” Dawn nuzzled further into his body, sighing. “This is so embarrassing. She’s so dead.”
Justin chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on top of her head. “I think she said it because she got tired of me asking.”
“That’s like, the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me.” Dawn looked up at him, catching his eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Justin smiled, bending his face down to kiss her.
“Dawn, are you…” Buffy’s voice sounded behind them, driving them guiltily apart. Dawn turned to catch sight of her sister stopped and staring. “I thought you were getting information!”
“I was! From Justin…” Dawn answered, the guilt still hanging like a cloud around her.
“And this is Justin?” Buffy asked, gesturing towards the boy who was blushing from cheek to cheek, looking appropriately chastised.
“Hi.” He said weakly from behind Dawn, nudging her with his hand. “You didn’t tell me your sister was scary.” He muttered behind her.
“Yes I did.” She responded softly.
“Okay, but not this scary.” He whispered back.
“You both know I can hear you, right?” Buffy asked, rolling her eyes. Finally, she stuck her hand out. “So you’re ‘my best bud, Justin’ that we’ve been hearing about?”
“Buffy…” Dawn’s voice came out in a whine.
Justin couldn’t hold back his grin. “I guess so.” He reached forward and accepted the handshake. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Buffy smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you too, Justin. So? We’re dying to know what’s happening, fill me in.”
“Well, I went to get Willow from the audience as per Tara’s request…” Justin began.
* * *
Dangling their legs off of the side of the stage, they sat next to each other, nothing more than a hair’s breadth between them. Occasionally their legs would brush against each other as they swung. It was enough to make concentrating on conversation difficult. As it was a shared affliction, neither noticed the other’s flustered state. “…it was a bust, when all was said and done. I can’t believe you’re not on the internet at all! I’m all with the high tech-ing.” Willow finished.
What stuck out most in Tara’s mind was the beginning of the story. She had missed the discussion of how it was done, and had been repeating, she looked for me, over and over in her head. When she realized Willow had stopped talking, she blurted out. “You were looking for me?” Tara stared at the redhead, her voice raised a touch above normal in disbelief. “All this time?”
Willow evaded Tara’s eyes, suddenly feeling very exposed. “I thought – I’m not sure what I thought, actually. I felt like a spell had been cast on me, I just couldn’t get you out of my mind. Really, it was nothing special…”
“No. That is special.” Tara interrupted. She stopped, searching for the right words. “You are too, y’know. Special, I mean.” Tara glanced down shyly.
Willow felt emboldened by the assurance that Tara thought of her as special, she reached out and placed a hand on Tara’s cheek, before pulling away and staring down at her feet. Her words were soft, Tara had to lean in towards her to hear them. “We have this family, Xander, Buffy, Dawn, and I. And my whole life has been about us, y’know? Helping each other after Joyce died…” Willow glances up from her shoes finally, making eye contact with Tara before breaking away to fight the tears welling up in her eyes. “She was like a Mom to us all… Xander and I, well, our parents really weren’t… I’ve spent the past eight years of my life working and helping them, and I’ve just never really had anything that was just mine… and I liked that. Having something that was just mine…” She forced a long breath out of her lips, slowing the steady course of words. “And I usually don’t use so many words to say stuff that little, but… do you get it at all?”
When Willow finally looked up into Tara’s face, she was stunned by the beautiful smile that graced the girl’s face and eyes. It was the touch of Tara’s hand to hers that brought her from the stupor. “I do.” The words were simple, but they filled Willow’s body with giddiness. Tara nodded to herself, as deciding something. “I am, y’know?”
All of the air left Willow’s lungs at once, her heart pounded loudly in her chest. As she spoke, her voice broke. “What?”
Tara, for her part, was completely at ease. The nervousness she had felt when she first saw Willow in the audience, the mind numbing terror of waiting to see her face to face again, it had all faded away in the moment when Willow had locked eyes with her. Gone was the flirtatious and bold Willow, and instead, in her place, stood the girl Tara had known so many years ago, if only for a night. Shy but so incredibly genuine it nearly broke Tara’s heart in two. Never before had she been so confident, she knew exactly what to say. She knew she meant it from the bottom of her heart, which she had given away eight years before. “Yours.”
Emerald eyes searched sapphire blue, their close proximity, the heat of each others’ bodies through their clothes proved too alluring. They began to drift together, two sailboats on a course for collision. They slowed as they neared each other, Willow’s eyes darting back and forth in a frantic pattern of questioning, Should we? Can we? May I?, Do you need this as badly as I do? Until they bumped lips, unable to keep themselves from drifting closer even as they questioned the wisdom of such a move.
The first bump was a shock, Willow was jolted by the contact, stunned and a little unsure. The second bump was a snap decision, made without thought, and left Tara no less confused, but a lot more certain. The third bump, if it could be called that, was more of a measured landing than anything else, lips brought together purposefully, not pulled away quickly, no rumbles of nervous giggles in their throats. Their lips pressed fully, a sinking sensation moreso than anything else, a melting, a joining. The spark of a match, if nothing else. The first kiss deepened quickly, lips sliding open, tongues meeting in a slow dance. Wet, soft, warm, like eating the perfect piece of fruit, soft and ripe and ready to be bitten, licked, sucked, enjoyed. Their bodies fell together in the style of their mouths, without conscious thought, merely an extension of what needed to be done. They fell back together on stage, pulling apart to breathe. They laid beside one another, staring up at the ceiling, unsure of what to say in the face of a kiss they had waited years to share and still defied their wildest of expectations. Years later, they’ll still debate which one of them reached out and laced their fingers together.
* * *
Tara couldn’t help but to giggle to herself. Willow kept talking and talking; she hadn’t stopped talking since they had kissed. There was no end to the amount of words she could get out with very little breathing involved. She shook her head, trying to focus on the words, and not how cute the redhead looked bouncing around in front of her. She looks like a balloon in the wind, Tara thought absently to herself. I waited eight years for you, I guess I can wait a few more minutes for you to deflate. She forced herself to zone back in.
“Your work is incredible. I mean, the way you use words…” Willow stopped, trying to find some way to explain the effect that Tara’s poetry had on her. “I just can’t even fathom it.” She said with some resignation. Nectarines and honey. Woah.
A blush quickly sprung to Tara’s cheeks, flushing them red. As much as she’d love to hear all about Willow’s reaction to her poetry, she couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t the right time. I can’t believe I read Nectarines and Honey to her. What was I thinking? She had a feeling they both could pass out from embarrassment. They’d been sitting and talking for two hours on the darkened stage, and had only begun to get the sketchiest details about each other’s lives. (They really might have walked right by each other in Sunnydale. Willow almost moved to Portland. Tara had gotten several book deals.) It was more than either of them could process in each other’s presence at the moment.
“Willow.” Tara said the name again, allowed it to roll over her tongue. She was pleased to see those green eyes turn to her quickly. “As much as I love this…” She couldn’t resist pausing for dramatic effect, watching Willow’s face intently as they stared at each other. “I think we should probably go somewhere else? Powell’s will probably want their stage back.” She grinned. “Maybe we could go out to dinner? Or go for a walk? Or get a drink?” Maybe we could go out for a hundred dinners? Thousands of walks? I could make you coffee in the morning, you could make me tea in the afternoon. We could go out with our friends. We could have a little house, I could garden, you could have an entire room filled with computers. We could have sex in the morning, when you’re cute and disoriented with sleep. I could wrap my legs around you on the couch while we watch movies.
“Like a date?” Willow’s voice was small, but her tongue pushed through her teeth as her lips curled into a grin.
“Exactly like a date.” Tara replied, forming a half grin in response.
“Lead the way.” Willow responded, silently swearing to herself, I’ll follow you anywhere, Tara Maclay.
October, 2008
Portland, Oregon
“Fuck it.” Tara said clearly, resolutely. With that, she picked herself up off the couch and held her hand out to Willow. “Come with me?” She asked, her voice and face softening.
“I’ll follow you anywhere, Tara Maclay.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she recognized them as truth, just as they had been a month ago on that stage. Willow smiled up at Tara, grabbing the offered hand.
As Tara led her down the hallway towards the bedroom Willow had grown to think of as theirs, a calm that Willow had never known took hold of her body. She knew this was right, she knew this was their moment. They’d waited so long, just to be sure, just to know that yes, it had been worth it, this waiting, these eight years of yearning for someone they had barely known. Each passing day did nothing but affirm to both Willow and Tara that this person who had once been nothing but a fantasy was in fact the one. Tara’s easy laughter, her patience, her kind and caring heart, these were just a few of thousands of details that Willow understood as reasons she loved the brunette. Her imagined Tara was a shadow of a person compared to the real woman, and Willow knew love. She knew it in the sway of her girlfriend’s hips as she led them forward. This was love, and she was ready to show Tara all of the love she had. She would beg if she had to, plead with this woman who was nothing short of goddess in Willow’s eyes. Please touch me. If you don’t, I might die with longing for it.
Tara glanced behind her as she reached out to grasp the doorknob, catching sight of Willow’s slightly dazed, eager expression. She couldn’t help but grin, consumed with love for the woman behind her. She had always assumed Willow was a kind, generous human being. She hadn’t understood that these qualities in Willow reached new levels, Willow was more generous than anyone she had ever met. Willow was kind to everyone – much the way Anya had always accused her of being. Her girlfriend, the woman who had searched for her for years, the woman who had uprooted her life just to be with Tara. She shook her head at the flood of thoughts. Fuck it. I love her. I want this. I’ve wanted this for too long. She pulled them both through the door, and kicked it shut behind them.
They regarded each other for just a moment before their lips met, the same way they had that day on the stage. They met and devoured each other, stumbling over themselves to get to the bed. It was Willow who won dominance when they got there, she urged Tara to sit back on the bed, a gentle pressure on both her shoulders causing her to fall back. Willow knelt in front of her, pushing their lips back together, and bringing her trembling fingers to Tara’s shirt. She paused, pulling away from the kiss to look Tara in the eye. “I love you.” She said, a shade just above a whisper. Her fingers, shaking as they were, still managed to pry open the first of the buttons on Tara’s shirt. She placed a kiss on the skin there, over Tara’s breast bone. She kissed her neck, and then finally her mouth again. “I want you.” Again, her voice was barely more than a murmur, but she might as well have been shouting, Tara’s ears strained to hear any words her lover uttered. She was stunned into silence by the plain admissions. Another button undone, another kiss placed on the skin revealed. “Eight years.” It was almost a sigh. Two more buttons undone, Willow’s hands refrained from ripping the rest of the shirt open, but just barely. Her green eyes leveled with Tara’s blue. “I’ve been waiting eight years for you.” The reverence of tone forced Tara into action, she pushed forward, grabbing Willow’s face with both of her hands and kissing her soundly, opening her mouth with a sweeping gesture with her tongue.
Tara’s dominance surprised Willow, so much so that she moaned with pleasure. Tara broke away from the kiss at the moan, her smile so laviscious Willow felt herself flood at the sight of it. When Tara pressed her mouth to Willow’s ear, her voice is deep and throaty. “There hasn’t been a single day, not a single day of eight years that I haven’t imagined what it would feel like to have you here, in my bed. Every night I touched myself imagining your fingers, your tongue, your body on me, in me. When I come, it’s for you.”
Willow’s hands found both sides of Tara’s shirt and pull. Buttons went flying and Tara gave out a gasp of surprise. Her mouth enveloped Tara’s lower lip, tugging it with her teeth as her hands slid over her lover’s flesh. Her hips bucked forward into Tara, sending the brunette’s head back and giving Willow access to Tara’s throat. Tara’s pulse beat under Willow’s tongue, her thumbs brushing the pink nipples she had fantasized about back on the couch. They turned to pebbles under her touch, and Willow leaned back to see her lover’s breasts for the first time.
Light spilled from the window, the golden glow of afternoon sun bathing Tara’s skin in the same hue, her breasts heavy in Willow’s hands. Tara’s eyes soaked in the expression on Willow’s face, a mixture of innocent delight and naughty intent. Tara was unable to stop her hips from thrusting forward at the sight of it, her impatience getting the better of her. Willow slid her face down, brushing her cheek against the soft skin of Tara’s breast, before capturing her left nipple between her lips and sucking it into her mouth. Her hands worked under the skirt, tracing slowly and dragging her nails up the outside of Tara’s thighs. Willow was enchanted by the moans now erupting from deep in Tara’s body and escaping her throat. She delighted in the way Tara’s hips feel, full in her hands, as if her maker intended to make places for Willow’s hands to rest. Releasing the left nipple, she dove for the right, dragging her teeth slowly across it. Her fingers made lazy circles across the tops of Tara’s thighs, before diving between them and palming the flesh. “Baby?”
It took Tara a moment to respond, her thighs on fire where Willow’s hands are grabbing them. “Mmmm?” Is all she can force out.
“Lay back for me?”
She consented without a word, a hand on her stomach easing her back. Her skirt slides up, her hips jerk as she felt Willow place a kiss against her lips. She was completely unprepared for Willow’s tongue as the length of her is stroked. Willow groaned. “Baby, you smell so good.” Willow’s tongue pushed deeper, and they both moan as it made contact with her clit. “You taste so good.” Willow’s words were almost incoherent as they were muttered into her most sensitive parts. She arched her back as Willow slid a finger inside of her, her tongue beginning a pattern of lapping at Tara’s fully erect clit. They began to dance, moaning as Tara raises her hips into Willow’s tongue, groaning as they fell, forcing Willow’s finger to thrust into her. Their speed increased, the sound of their lovemaking filling the air, Willow felt her wetness drip out of her and down her thigh. Willow had never known need like this, with Tara moving against her, surrounded by her lover’s desire. She slipped a second finger inside of Tara, who cried out at the penetration. Together they move faster, arching and falling towards an eventual goal, the pressure building up in Tara’s abdomen, until she felt the waves of orgasm start. It pushed through her body, down to her toes, and up through her brain till the ends of her hair felt pleasure. She quaked with the intensity of it, rocking against Willow’s hand and mouth, thrusting herself hard against her until the last of the waves slow.
Cold air brushed her sensitivity as Willow moved away from her. She felt the bed shift with Willow’s weight, and allowed herself to be pulled into Willow’s arms. She was incapable of words, but she moaned as she was wrapped up and into her lover. Their quiet breathing filled the emptiness left by the moans that have scattered into the air. The sun set as they laid together, silently, words wasted in the face of something so singular, so separate from the world. They were united, two against it all, and the language of others was not needed in the face of their action.
_________________ "This is not my life, or maybe it is..." -TEB There's some more of my stuff over here: http://bonmot507.livejournal.com/viewtopic.php?t=4929
Last edited by chance on Mon May 05, 2008 4:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Seriously, though, I love that Willow voiced the obvious during their lovemaking -- that she waited eight years. Really brought home the intensity of the moment. 