Happy New Year everybody! Time for an update!
But first, feedback responses!
@vampyregurl73: I’m glad you like sexually-forward Tara. I see her as someone with a strong sense of who she is, even if she’s not proud or happy with parts of herself. She knows what she wants, and is willing to go after it. She’s in kind of an uncomfortable box right now: she sees her birthday on the horizon, and now that she’s made the mistake of falling in love, she feels like Willow may be her only shot at being sexual with another person before her life as she knows it is over. Add to that nineteen-year old virgin hormones and the total hotness of Willow, and she didn’t stand a chance.
Re: her mom, I like her talks with her mom, too. She really needs a peer to talk to about the upheaval in her life, and we don’t see her with non-Scooby friends until season six. The structure gives me a chance to highlight the fact that Tara isn’t a saint, and it gives her a really good coping mechanism.
@ wimpy0729: So many of the season 4 scenes feel awkward to me, but it helps remind me how confused Willow is about everything, even if she isn’t consciously aware of it. She shows up giddy, but doesn’t reach out to touch, like she needs some time to acclimate to Tara’s room before it’s okay.
Re: teasing, banter is the only way I’ve experienced a relationship, so that’s what I write, whether I start out intending to write it or not. I’m glad others find it hot as well.
Re: boundaries, I think that even though Tara’s almost completely swept up in the experience of rolling around the bed with Willow, she’s really afraid of pushing Willow away. She’s wise enough to see that putting Willow in charge of boundaries will keep her from inadvertently scaring her off.
Re: lesson. Aw, shucks. When I sat down to write this story, I knew it would be a new experience for me: I’ve haven’t written much fiction, and certainly no sexy fiction. So I’m always glad to hear it’s working.
@ LonelyTara: Why yes, yes it does. And I’m glad your wife likes you
Saying I’m taken is a defense mechanism learned from years of hanging out with nerds.
@ Zampsa1975: Much with yayness! Since you hit like every point vampyregurl73 did, you might want to read my above reply.
@ DaddyCatALSO: Since I am a total Shadowrun dork (the tabletop RPG, not the FPS), I think of Willow as a hermetic mage and Tara as a shaman. And yet they do in fact get along quite well (a shock, I know).
Spell sabotage is below; I hope you like.
@ mishki: Let me psych you once more with my glorious update-y prowess! I’m glad that the shift in tone was noticeable; since Willow and Tara’s relationship is a closeted and fairly ill-defined one until NMR, I’m also containing it in my writing, if that makes sense. I want it to feel separate from the rest of their lives.
@ SMGOVAN: I know, right? I doubt this qualifies as “soon,” but it is an update! Enjoy.
@ Promthea128: Awesomesauce! Thanks for reading!
@ wayland You know, I do love language! I’ve studied four languages (including English) formally, been a reader my whole life, and my sister is a writer. Playful. I like the sound of that. Apt description of me. I must confess, though, that I didn’t recognize the Clarke Gable reference in the scene; I saw the movie referenced in the shooting script, and had to look it up. But I didn't have to look up Clarke Gable, putting me ahead of many 28 year olds. I’m pleased your store bowed to the power of correct grammar, even if it was a well-armed militia rather than a sweeping army that took them down. I was flattered to see you noticed how I leave feedback. I sometimes have a hard time leaving feedback, because it feels wrong not to sit down and do a thorough job of it. I hope I end up being remembered for more than “that chick who called out Heather on less/fewer.” Also, I don’t know the book you mentioned, but I’m pleased to have been useful!
@ spells42 Yes! Story lurker poked into leaving feedback! Success! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story. I think I write Tara differently than a lot of people, but that’s what’s so great about her character: we know relatively little about her, so she can still “accurately” be lots of kinds of people. Since I’m a lot like Willow, I just sat down to create the sort of Tara that a) fit the information I know for certain about her and b) is the sort of person with whom I would fall in love.
@ceridwen Yes. Yes I did. I’m glad you enjoyed the chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, too.
@ Ariel Aw, shucks. I think what’s so awesome about Willow and Tara is that they are protagonists in their own right: who they are as characters changes throughout the course of the story. In fact, I think they change more notably than Buffy does. So it’s important to me to have them constantly growing. I think it’s my science training, but I really like to think about things in context, so the dialogue is important to me. My goal when writing this was to fill in gaps, and you have to see what those gaps are between for it to mean anything.
@JustSkipIt You? Verbal? I never would have guessed.
Wait, that’s a lie.
Still, praise like “erotic and sensual” makes my little heart (and ego) go pitter-pat. Squee!
Oh, and this was ages ago, but I realized I never actually typed this.
You said this:
On the same note, I feel that Gwendolyn Post is the start of Faith's issues. She places the hint about the Scoobies meeting without her and that's it for Faith.
I read this, and my response was, “huh, I think she’s right. You take out that bitch and Faith would be . . . just like Debra writes her. Woah!” And then I went and re-watched that episode, and it only firmed up my conclusion. So good on you!
@dlline Couldn’t have done it without you.
@ edob Done!
@ nanotech Hey, glad you found it, and bonus glad you like it.
***
Author: BeMyDeputy (Kate)
Rating: PG-13 (hard PG-13?) for this section (for sexiness). Up to NC-17 for later installments.
**New and improved** Feedback: Yes! Please! Are you reading and don’t have more than “I like this”? Fine, post that! Disagree terribly with my portrayal of the characters? Fine, post that, but I reserve the right to defend them. Supposedly sexy parts not sexy? Bitch! This is my first major fiction piece, so rip it up. The only thing I don’t want to see is unsupported “you suck” comments. You may praise me without supporting details, though.
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 3, including "Poems and Demons" takes place during "Goodbye Iowa"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here?
Content disclaimer (this section): Sex: No. Angst: Yes.
I Don't Own This Disclaimer: The entire Buffyverse (including setting, characters, and plot) is property of its owners, including but not limited to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. "Goodbye Iowa" was written by Marti Noxon.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta reader, dlline, who was kind enough to take the time to send me this incredibly long chapter, even though it’s her birthday. Happy Birthday! (It still is in my time zone.)
Acknowledgements Part 2: “Where the Sidewalk Ends” was written by Shel Silverstein. The earliest publication of it I can find is in the book of the same name, published in 1974.
A side note on reading This segment includes the recitation of a poem interspersed with action. The poem is in italics, and the action is not, though the verses+action are all in blockquotes. I hope this comes across as legible--it does to me, but then again, I wrote it and have stared at it for too long.
Chapter 3 Part 4: Poems and Demons
Topless.
The sound of Willow’s voice stringing those phonemes together echoed louder and louder in Tara’s brain, the space suddenly devoid of other content. Without a thought (as the capacity to form them had also vanished), she rolled onto her back, and pulled Willow with her. They shared an urgent kiss as Tara’s hands roamed wildly up and down Willow’s back and ass.
Willow pulled back slightly and began, “You know,” but Tara followed her up and silenced her with another kiss. When she started to move away again, Tara cupped her right hand around the back of Willow’s head and pulled them both down back into the bed. Finally, Willow migrated sideways, her soft lips brushing Tara’s cheek as she continued, “You seem like . . .” Willow kissed her way to Tara’s earlobe, “ . . . you really like that idea . . .” suddenly, Tara’s earlobe was warm and wet and pinched between gentle teeth, “ . . . but your shirt isn’t going to make it off with you on your back like that.”
Tara squeezed her eyes more tightly closed and arched her back, the delicious sound of Willow breathing heavily into her ear the only thing she’d understood. “Huhjumawhaha?”
The smile was audible in Willow’s voice as she softly teased, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tongue-tied, language girl.”
“I, uh, um. Wow.” Tara turned her head to brush noses with Willow, and slowly opened her eyes. “D-did you say words?”
Oh yeah, language.
“Oh neat!” Willow’s eyes consumed the entirety of Tara’s vision, and they smiled brightly back at her. “Your language processing is sexy-soluble.” Willow kissed Tara passionately before she rolled off to the side and sat up. “This is going to be awesome!” Willow exclaimed as she rapidly clapped her hands together.
What on Earth? Tara propped herself up on her elbows, confused at the loss of contact. “What’s going to be awesome? Why can’t you tell me dow—own—goddess—mmm.” Tara’s eyes drifted shut partway through “down,” her elbows gave out around “goddess,” and then finally the ability to form words, rather than whimpers, departed. She was vaguely aware of her teeth digging into her lower lip, but mostly was consumed by the exquisite feeling of Willow’s fingers dancing lightly across her left breast. When the feeling stopped, Tara moaned happily and lazily opened her eyes to find Willow’s face right above hers.
“See? Awesome.” A huge grin stretched across Willow’s face, and the tip of her tongue poked out through her teeth.
God she’s sexy when she’s happy. I can think of better uses for that tongue, though. No, getting ahead of myself . . . need to learn to think when she’s touching me. Tara cast about for something else on which to focus.
Eyes, look at her eyes.
“You have the most amazing eyes, you know that?”
Willow chuckled. “Not quite what I was expecting. Um, thank you, though.” Concern took hold of Willow’s face. “That was right? Those were happy noises?”
“Mmmhmm,” Tara nodded. “Those were definitely happy noises. ‘Willow gets an A+’-type happy noises.”
A bright glow swept the worry away from Willow’s face. “Yay!” She leaned down and pressed her cheek against Tara’s as she slowly melted back on top of her. Tara realized with a wide eyes and a sharp gasp that the repositioning included Willow gently but firmly pushing a thigh into her crotch. Willow had done this transiently the other night, but now she didn’t pull away, and instead continued to settle in to Tara once the leg was in place. Tara gently hooked her leg around Willow’s and offered a quiet, questioning “hmm?” to ask if it was okay. When Willow responded by pressing harder into Tara for a moment, Tara and pulled her in tight with both arms and the entwined leg.
If the heat from Willow’s cheek was any indication, she was blushing fiercely. “So, uh, did you know that the brain is inherently lazy?” Willow spoke in a whisper, but Tara could feel the breath hit her ear.
“Is that so?”
Okay, so long as she doesn’t move, maybe I can carry on a conversation.
“Yup. It’s a really good idea, from a survival standpoint. Using more resources than you absolutely need to is a bad idea, because then you can’t use them for the next thing you need to survive.” As Willow’s lips formed words, they brushed against Tara’s cheek.
If this . . . whatever this is with her . . . persists, I’m going to associate the most eclectic assortment of topics with sex. “Makes sense.”
“It really does. Sadly for me, I’ve learned a behavior that doesn’t generalize very well to my current problem. But you might have just solved that.”
“Pleased to be of,”
don’t say “service,” don’t say “service, “uh, to help out. How . . .” with effort, Tara dragged her attention away from the feel of Willow’s fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, “. . . how so?”
“See, I’d learned that leaving my leg here . . .” Willow indicated where with a tender push, “. . . was enough to give me a constant measure of my success in the ‘turning the other person on’ department.” Tara heard herself whimper, but couldn’t recall telling her voice to do so. “I was lazy about learning to monitor other things. So I worried, because I want to know that I’m successful. Feedback is very important.” A chuckle tickled Tara’s ear before Willow continued in a quieter whisper, “Mostly this . . .” she pressed again “. . . makes you squirm in a delicious positive-feedback-y way.”
Everything was suddenly on fire: the feel of Willow’s movement shone so brightly that it blocked out everything else. As reality came back into focus, the first thing that crystallized was Willow kissing her, followed by the realization that her tongue had made it into Willow’s mouth of its own accord. Whimpers, moans, and groans that Tara recognized as being in her voice hit her ears, but she was certain that it was Willow, not herself, that told her vocal chords to make them. At some point later (Tara’s perception of the passage of time still absent, she had no idea how much later), Willow gently pulled away with what Tara could only describe as a shit-eating grin on her face.
“I . . . you . . . um . . . yes,” Tara sputtered as she looked up in awe at Willow.
Willow batted gently at Tara’s nose like a kitten with a ball of string. “Yes. Very awesome. See, now I have a new model system for knowing if I’m doing things right: your language goes away.”
“That seems ab—” Tara arched into the feel of Willow’s hand brushing over her right nipple. Her shoulder blades fell back onto the bed when the contact abated and she continued, “—out right.”
“You have to know some poems or songs or something by heart, right?” A thoughtful look crossed Willow’s face before she continued, “Stuff with a sexiness quotient of greater than or equal to zero, though: I don’t think ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ would really be appropriate.” Tara nodded, having started memorizing poems to help with her stutter when she was young. “Most excellent. So, here’s my plan: we get you topless like we talked about (okay, technically like I mentioned the once and then you got all nonverbal), you recite something not un-sexy and then I use your inability to form words as an indicator for if I’m touching you right.”
“Good plan.”
“I’m going to need this back, though.” Willow started to pull her leg back, though it didn’t make it far with Tara’s still around it. With a suspicious glance, Tara growled quietly and pulled Willow’s leg back into place. Willow laughed. “Tara . . .” she softly chastised.
“Fine, fine,” Tara acquiesced as she reluctantly set Willow’s leg free. A smile broke through the petulant look she was trying to maintain, but she didn’t care.
Willow took back her leg, and sat up. Tara followed suit and reached for the bottom of her shirt to remove it, but Willow darted out a hand to stop her. “Wait.” Concern flashed through Tara as she searched Willow’s face, but a soft smile comforted her. “Let me?”
“Uh . . . okay.”
Mouth: dry. Stomach: upside down. Heart: pounding. Nipples: painfully hard. Not quite how I thought this would feel. Yet . . . better.
Willow gently pulled Tara’s shirt and camisole off, the back of her fingers and the heel of her palms brushing along Tara’s sides. Once the fabric finished passing by her face, Tara saw Willow looking at her handiwork with awe and glee. Despite the removal of layers, Tara somehow felt warmer, rather than cooler, particularly with Willow’s gaze on her. When Willow pulled Tara in for a kiss, her hands felt hot on Tara’s back and stomach.
“Wow. You look . . . wow.” Willow ran her hands along the newly exposed skin of Tara’s stomach and back, and Tara could feel goose bumps rise in their wake, as if they were a Braille typewriter. “You’re so soft,” Willow reverently whispered. A hesitant finger returned to the shoulder strap of Tara’s bra, and slowly traced along the top of it. Willow looked up to Tara’s face, pupils wide and face flushed. “You, uh, never answered my question. About the rules changing?”
“Hmm? Um, right. Not really . . . skin’s a lot more sensitive than skin through cloth, and you just pulled off two layers.” Tara thought for a moment before adding, “The skin between my breasts, along the breastbone, is pretty sensitive.”
“Bare skin and sternum: sensitive. Got it. Is that additive?” Word failed Tara as she realized what Willow was asking, and could only nod. “So . . . you have any ideas? For my plan?”
For how I’m going to keep my hands out of both your pants and mine during this plan of yours? No. “Y-yeah.”
“I’m thinking something not too long, first.”
“Well, there goes my idea: I was going to go with ‘The Epic of Gilgamesh,’” Tara deadpanned.
“You know that by heart?” Startled surprise displaced the soft awe from Willow’s features.
“No.” Tara giggled, happy she was starting to relax despite the lack of shirt.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” With a pull on Tara’s waist, Willow pulled her in for a quick kiss.
“You like it.”
With a broad smile and a roll of her eyes, Willow agreed. “Well, yes, but . . . just get to talking.” Willow encouraged Tara to begin with nip at her earlobe.
“Ahem. ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends,’ by Shel Silverstein
[blockquote]
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.”[/blockquote]
Willow spent the first verse focused on previously explored territory: her hands gently caressed bare back, stomach, and sides, while she seemed to be trying to kiss every square millimeter of Tara’s neck.
When Tara continued with the second verse, however, Willow actually put her model to use.
[blockquote]
"Let us leave . . .” Tara’s voice went up an octave as Willow’s teeth dug into the skin above her jugular, “. . .
this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark . . .” Fingers from each of Willow’s hands moved to the top of the shoulder straps of Tara’s bra, and lightly traced down until they met in the middle, “—uh,
dark street . . . winds and bends.
Past the pits where . . .” Willow gently cupped Tara’s breasts, one in each hand, but left the nipples untouched, “. . .
where . . . where . . . the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk . . .” Slowly, Willow squeezed, a careful eye on Tara’s face. When she reached as hard as Tara had said was comfortable, she released her hold just as slowly. Tara was unable to speak until the squeezing stopped, “. . .
that is measured and slow,
And watch where . . .” Tara let out a gasp as fingertips grazed her nipples, “. . .
the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where . . .” A soft pinch to both nipples pulled Tara forward into the touch, the rest of the world faded away until Willow let up the pressure, “. . .
the sidewalk ends.
“Yes we’ll walk with a walk . . .” Willow moved to sit on Tara’s lap, facing her so that legs loosely wrapped around waist “. . .
that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go . . .” Tara looked quizzically at Willow as she locked her hands around the middle of Tara’s back, “. . .
where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, . . .” Willow kissed the length of Tara’s collarbone, “. . .
and the children, they know”[/blockquote]
Once she’d finished Tara’s collarbone, Willow began to kiss down her breastbone. Tara slowly fell backwards, grateful for the hands holding her in place. She held her breath as Willow’s mouth paused before touching her breasts, only to let it out in a groan as Willow continued to kiss southward, zigzagging between breasts until she hit bra. Tara then felt her self being pulled up, and met Willow’s lips for a deep kiss.
“‘
The place where the sidewalk ends,’” Willow finished for her.
“Wow. That was . . . wow.” For a long moment, Tara could just stare, wide-eyed into Willow’s eyes, breath loud and heart racing.
“Yeah. Definite wow.” A huge grin stretched across Willow’s face. “So, you like? I did good—I mean, well?”
“I’d even say ‘double-plus well,’ if it weren’t for the creepy overtones.”
“Spiffy!” After she glowed for a moment, Willow glanced to the side and bit her lip. With a deep breath, Willow looked back into Tara’s eyes, slipped her hands up Tara’s back, and took hold of either side of where her bra hooked together.
Oh. Wow. “Okay?”
Tara took Willow’s face gently in her hands, and kissed her ardently before looking her firmly in the eye. “Yes. Please?” Tara kissed her again, and hands started moving on her back. After a moment, however, Willow interrupted the kiss with laughter.
“You know, this is surprisingly different from this angle. Like trying to do a tie from the wrong point of view. Only, you know, less technically complicated but more situationally complicated, with the being really turned on and therefore impatient.”
Did she just say--? Tara’s heart stopped, and it must have shown on her face. “Are you still okay?”
“Yes.”
“You looked really surprised all of a sudden.”
“It’s just . . . you said you were t-turned on,” Tara answered in a quiet voice.
Why is talking about her being turned on embarrassing to talk about? Well, not the idea in general, but the idea that I’m responsible. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, but at the same time felt a chill go through her. Even more perplexing was that the pivot point was a
good thing.
A quizzical look took over Willow’s face. “This is surprising?” With a confused frown, Willow let go of the bra and wrapped her arms tightly around Tara’s waist.
“Well, yeah.” Tara nodded. “You never said--” Tara wasn’t sure how things had spun around so quickly: one moment, she felt like the center of the universe, and now she felt so small.
“Things like ‘I’m one hundred percent sure I’m interested in you’ or calling you a ‘sexy blanket’? Or saying that squeezing my butt and pressing my groin into yours is something I like?” Red splashed across Willow’s cheeks as she asked the final question, but otherwise maintained a concerned and serious expression.
“I heard you say those things. But . . . they don’t mean that I . . . that you . . . .”
I’m saying this all wrong.
“That I’m turned on? That you turn me on?” Tara’s shoulders fell as she nodded again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t make that abundantly clear. Tara: I’m turned on right now. You turn me on. Here, you should be able to tell.” Willow pointed to her eyes. “Pupils dilated?” They were, and Tara nodded. Willow set Tara’s hand over her heart. “Heart beating all fast-like?” It was, and Tara nodded. “Nipples . . .” Willow glanced down, “. . . are totally obscured by shirt jacket. Hang on.” Quickly, Willow undid the buttons holding her shirt closed before pulling it off. “Where was I? Right. Nipples erect, in a very ‘ooh, ooh, pick me’ sort of cry for attention?” They were, and Tara nodded. “Was I just trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to get your bra off?” She had been, and Tara nodded. “Well, if you take all of those symptoms and put them together, the likely diagnosis is ‘really turned on Willow.’ There are more, but demonstrating would require violating earlier agreements, which, by the way, is really embarrassing to say out loud, but I want you to know how serious I am.”
Tara was at a loss for what to say. She was where she wanted to be, and had just heard what she wanted to hear. Yet the whole situation was so overwhelming. It had been so much easier just to let Willow touch her without questioning why or how she felt about it. It made her emotionally dizzy, and all she could do was hug Willow close.
If Willow was confused or put off by Tara’s behavior, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she just held her back until Tara’s grip slightly loosened. Then, she gently disentangled herself from Tara, and slid off her lap before extending her arms again. “Here,” she encouraged, “I’ll trade you.” Tara didn’t understand quite what Willow was doing, but was happy to follow her lead, and so sat on her lap, reversing their positions from moments ago. Once she settled in, she just looked at Willow, not knowing what she was expected to do. Willow looked back at her quizzically, before her eyes moved first to Tara’s bra and then to her own camisole. When she looked back up into Tara’s eyes, it was with a knowing smile. “So, I’m guessing the reason I’m wearing a shirt and you’re not is that I haven’t explicitly invited you to remove mine.”
There was something in the way she moved Tara’s hands to the hem of her shirt, in the tone of her voice, in how her eyes smiled. It had been there all along, but that Tara hadn’t heard it through the din of hormones. Trust. Not simple trust, like “I trust you to hold my wallet,” or even complex trust, like “I trust you not to tell people my ex is a werewolf.” Somehow, “I trust you to touch me” was so much more momentous. The world had been swimming, but now Willow’s trust acted like a lens and it snapped back into focus. Tara smiled hugely and kissed Willow hard.
“I’m guessing something good happened in there?” Willow asked before she kissed Tara’s forehead and returned Tara’s smile.
“You trust me.”
Okay, that sounds stupid. Of course she trusts me. “I mean, you--”
“I get it,” Willow nodded. She glanced down at Tara’s hands, which still held the hem of her shirt. “And yes. I do.”
Elated, Tara looked down at her hands. She’d been looking forward to this. As amazingly, incredibly, language-disabling-ly, good as Willow touching her was, the converse was what kept her up at night. Tara slowly pulled the shirt up, careful to keep her hands in contact with Willow’s sides and arms until it was off. As she took in the vision that was Willow topless, Tara ran her hands up and down Willow’s arms, freckled shoulders to slight fingers. The sight did
not decrease her desire to sleep with this woman. “You are stunning.”
With a shake of her head, Willow glanced down. “No, not really.”
“Yes really. I know what stunning looks like. I have to say that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, hands down. That’s even
before the bonus points for inviting me to sit on your lap and the implicit invitation to touch.”
“
Implicit?” Willow scoffed. “I swear I drew the line at ‘pants removal,’ not ‘please take off my shirt and then just look.’ I’m wearing a whole layer still that’s fair game,” she laid out, pointing to her black bra. “Oh, and shoes. And socks!” Willow looked at Tara expectantly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you wanted? Maybe for me to remove your shoes?”
“From innocent confusion to removing my shirt to annoyingly dense in what, two minutes flat? My kinda woman.” Willow looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay, technically at this point in time the set that describes ‘my kinda woman’ only has one known member, that being you, but you get my point.”
Tara laughed. “I-I . . .”
love you. “You’re amazing.”
“Seriously, Tara, if you don’t start touching me in the next ten seconds I
will be forced to pull your mouth to my chest.”
Tara wanted to see if the threat from Willow was a bluff. She wanted to feel Willow’s desperation for this in the pull to her head. She wanted to taste Willow’s skin. Ten seconds was, however, far to long for her hands. By the time she’d gotten to thinking about debating if Willow’s reaction was worth the wait, they’d made their way to the front and center of her bra. Tara slowly followed the edge in either direction. The sensation was incredible: it was as intense and arousing as Willow touching her, but totally distinct, like it was a different color. It was like the high of magic and the buzz of alcohol and the pleasant anticipation of an impending orgasm all wrapped up into one. She wanted to watch Willow’s face, but the sight of her own fingers as they brushed against the top of Willow’s breasts was too compelling. Fortunately, as much as being touched disabled Tara’s ability to speak, it pulled a string of words from Willow.
“See? Not so hard, is it? Though if you go down two inches from where you are you’ll touch hard, not soft tissue, and you’re going up and not down which is still very good and did I mention you’re good with your hands because you’re good with your hands though I suppose I haven’t had much time to mention it as most of that time my mouth was busy either warning you against all this or pressing against you but yeah hands I’ve always noticed people’s hands and speaking of hands yours seem to be a lot better at undoing a bra from the wrong direction than mine and off please with that and with the kissing you now.”
Tara only caught a glimpse of Willow completely topless before Willow made good on her promise and kissed Tara deeply. Too caught up in the kiss and too fixated on the memory of Willow’s bare breasts to notice anything else, Tara was surprised when Willow stopped the kiss a minute later and pulled Tara’s bra with her as she retreated.
Time froze as the pair stared at each other. Suddenly the moment shattered, and mouths and breasts crushed eagerly together and hands ran the lengths of completely bare backs. Willow was a radiant fire, and her touch only served to further stoke Tara’s desire. Tara brought her hands to Willow’s shoulders, and firmly pushed. As she fell back, Tara brushed her hands lightly across the entirety of Willow’s front, from shoulders to breasts to stomach down until they hit slacks and the waist she now straddled. Her nervousness abated when her fingertips unleashed an avalanche of words from Willow once more.
“Okay, backwards, I can do backwards, and you look amazing, did you know that and yes please with the hands on my breasts and backwards can stop now so your hands stay there and you’re with the smiling so I don’t think you mind that idea and eek with the falling now hi there bed.”
Tara couldn’t help but laugh, even as she looked down at the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“When I touch you it makes words come out.” Tara placed her hands gently over Willow’s breasts. They were soft and warm and the touch made Tara’s whole body hum. She was suddenly intensely aware that she sat straddled over Willow’s hips.
“I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it much, I mean, a lot of the time I’m kind of too preoccupied to talk what with the kissing but I suppose—hey! You stopped.”
“Just testing.” Willow reached up slowly, and her hand paused over Tara’s breast, her face hesitant. Tara leaned gently forward into the promised touch. It was brilliant and blinding, and the next thing Tara knew, she was on her side next to Willow, her body on fire. “How’d I get here?”
Willow laughed. “I did this.” She reached forward again and caressed one of Tara’s breasts. Without the feel of Willow between her legs, Tara was able to see through the rapture. The touch was light and gentle at first, but Willow quickly got bolder as Tara’s whimpers filled the air. As Willow began to circle Tara’s nipple with her thumb, Tara pulled Willow in by the hip.
“I-I can see why I fell.” Tara reached out to mirror the touch, but the moment she made contact the world was lost to ecstasy. To touch and be touched was too much; somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was an increasing danger of shouting her unadmittable love so it resonated off the neighbor’s walls. “Wait . . . wait.”
“Tara?” Fear shot across Willow’s face, and she started to pull back her hand.
“It’s okay. I just . . . I can’t do both at once. It’s too much.”
“Really?” The fear began to fade from Willow’s face, but left doubt in its place.
Tara smiled, and pulled Willow’s hand gently off her chest. Willow still looked concerned, but Tara comforted her with a soft kiss to her lips. Tara grinned at Willow before she moved to kiss the center of her collarbone, and then trailed a series of kisses down Willow’s breastbone down to her bellybutton. Her skin tasted sweet: it reminded Tara of fresh-picked strawberries. Strong fingers wove their way into Tara’s hair, and gently encouraged her to make the return trip. As Tara began to kiss her way between breasts, Willow pulled her off course. So intoxicating was the feel of Willow’s need for her that she didn’t realize exactly where she was until her lips kissed nipple. Tara felt Willow’s back arch, felt her hand push Tara harder down into Willow’s chest, and heard Willow moan. She brought a hand up to Willow’s other breast and began to gently squeeze while she focused the rest of her attention on sucking on hardened nipple. It was almost overpoweringly arousing, and Tara felt like she could have stayed there forever.
“My turn,” Willow declared before she flipped Tara onto her back. She grinned down into Tara’s face before teasing, “I’m going to do that to you, but only if you start with another poem.” Tara let out an exasperated sigh, but Willow cut her off before she could object. “Or did you not like our earlier game?”
“Fine, fine. Ahem. The ‘Queen Mab’ monologue from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by William Shakespeare.”
And so they traded, back and forth; one focused on learning to touch until the other couldn’t stand
not touching any longer.
***
“Argh!” Tara was partway through Poe’s “The Bells” when the recently familiar sound of Willow’s claxon sounding interrupted. Willow rolled off Tara before she complained, “I swear, when Buffy catches that demon, I hope that she makes it a painful death. Interrupting my topless Tara time, the meanie. Not okay.”
“I just hope she catches it
soon.”
“That would be nice, yes. C’mon, I gave us forty-five minutes to go get spell ingredients, eat, and go over the spell.” With a glance to shirts on the floor, Willow smiled. “And, you know, get dressed again.” Eyes back on Tara’s chest, Willow set her jaw. “Though I’m starting to think I should have left time for a cold shower in there.” Willow got up, and began to direct garments to their correct owners before she put hers back on.
Tara was again amazed at how Willow responded to the alarm. Yes, she was clearly frustrated. No, she clearly didn’t want their time to stop. But she
moved. With every word of complaint, she moved toward the next thing she had to do. Could Tara learn to be so obedient? Oz had been a Scooby, so therefore he had been able to learn this, or it wouldn’t be Willow’s default. If Oz could do it, Tara was determined to be able to do it. Not out of malice for man (the only one in Willow’s life who had eyes, as far as she was concerned), but rather to make sure that the . . . whatever . . . between herself and Willow was not more dangerous or difficult for Willow than her relationship with Oz had been. Of course, by the time she had considered all of this, Willow was already redressed and had begun to tie her shoes; Tara, however, still lay topless on the bed.
“So, are you going to dinner topless, or am I eating alone?”
“Neither. I’ll get dressed. Just give me a minute.”
“I
did give you a minute. You lay there on the bed all dreamy-eyed.” Willow smiled and bent down to help Tara sit up, and rewarded her with a kiss when she complied.
“I remember the rules,” Tara said as she put on the bra Willow forced into her hand. “I just feel as frustrated as you look.”
“It gets easier with practice. You learn to compartmentalize.”
“How did you learn to do it?” Tara asked as she pulled on her shirt.
“I shot Oz.” Off Tara’s surprised look, Willow hurried to explain. “With a tranquilizer dart. When he was a werewolf. Not fun. Nothing quite like shooting the guy you want to date to make you separate Scooby life and personal life. It reminds you the alternative is dying,” Willow reported, matter-of-factly.
“I-I hope that’s not the only way.”
“I hope so, too. I’d rather you not shoot me with a tranq dart. Those things can take down an elephant.” Willow grinned. “Shall we?” Willow helped Tara to stand, and held her hand as they walked to the door. Once they reached it, she shifted uncomfortably and frowned down at their joined hands. “I, uh, I really don’t want the army guys to know how important you are, so . . . .” After she gave Tara’s hand a tight squeeze, she dropped it.
“I get it.” There was more to Willow’s action than she said; Tara was sure of it. She hadn’t quite met Tara’s eyes as she explained, and her aura felt more guilty than concerned. Good odds were on the same-sex issue, of course. Willow’s friends were just as out there as the army. Though Tara took all this in, it didn’t bother her. Willow was certain to introduce her to her friends soon, and revelations about any complexities to their friendship could wait until Willow understood them herself. So, as Tara stepped outside her sanctuary, she left behind not only her confidence but also her permission to touch. As she locked her door, she locked away not only her sense of security, but also own acknowledgement of her feelings for Willow.
“We should get the stuff from my room first, while it’s still a little light. Buffy’s going to be after that demon tonight, not after the run-of-the mill vamps.”
Demon. Oh, Goddess. The spell. Tara’s mind raced. How on Earth could she tell Willow? After what happened? It hadn’t just been physical. However Willow felt about her, there was an exchange of closeness and trust. Trust that felt amazing and revelatory an hour ago suddenly felt suffocating.
I haven’t told her. I let her touch me and she let me . . . . I haven’t told her. I should have told her already. But if I had told her, she wouldn’t have . . . so I have to tell her now. But I can’t tell her now. Not after she trusted me. But if I don’t tell her before, the spell will show I’m . . . then she’ll never rust me again because I didn’t tell her before . . . .
“So, this is me: 214,” Willow cheerfully announced as she pulled out her keys. It snapped Tara back to reality from the fog of panic that followed her as they had walked to Stevenson.
“So, how do you like having a roommate?” Tara stalled for time as she tried to catch her bearings.
“Eh, it’s hard to tell.” Willow paused, key immobile in the lock. “I mean, last semester I started out spending so much time with Oz. Then, right after he left, Riley started after Buffy, though honestly a lot of that time is a blur. We haven’t really spent the year getting closer or anything.” Willow sighed. “It feels like we’ve been getting further apart.” She shook her head as she unlocked the door. “When it’s smooth, though, it’s really nice. It’s like how I imagined having a sister would be.” Willow walked into the room and gestured around. “Ta-da!”
Instantly, Tara knew which half was Willow’s. She could
feel it. A green afgan, a star chart, and a laptop populating the left half of the room quickly caught her eye.
This is where she sleeps. The thought warmed her heart. The room felt like Willow, and even though she’d never been there before, it made Tara feel safe. Tara smiled brightly at Willow. “I love it.”
“Really?” Tara nodded, and Willow beamed. “C’mon, there’s someone you need to meet.” For a moment, Tara thought they were going to find Buffy or Xander, but instead Willow walked over to a small cage Tara hadn’t noticed in the corner of the dorm room. A small black rat slept half under a pile of newspaper shreds. “This is Amy. Amy, Tara. Tara, Amy.” Willow gently picked Amy up, and held her out for Tara to see.
“How long has Amy been a rat?”
“About two years. So, you can see she’s human?” Willow’s eyes sparkled, like they did when she was studying and something suddenly came together in her head, or when a spell went particularly well.
“Mmmhmm. Though, can you even
have a rat in the dorms?”
“No, but she’s a
sneaky rat.”
“A sneaky rat with a sneaky keeper.” Tara took a closer look at Amy. “I’d guess she’s a witch, too. Though that might be the spell making things hard to read.”
“That’s so cool!” Willow exclaimed, gently bouncing in place. “She is a witch, and we went to high school together. Well, until she accidentally turned herself into a rat. At least, I think it was an accident. Either way, I haven’t been able to undo it.”
“It was an accident. Someone else . . . multiple someones were the target. But she was fueling the spell with anger, and she couldn’t keep it in check. It went off target.”
“You can tell all that just
looking at her?”
“Not at her, exactly. At the spell. I can read the signature.”
“Wow. I wish I could do that. That’s amazing.”
“Not half as amazing as your brilliant mind.” Tara reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind Willow’s ear affectionately. Willow stiffened slightly and a surprised look crossed her face. Quickly, Tara realized her mistake: she might be able to relax here, but it wasn’t her room. Their friendship had no complications in this space. Without delay, Tara stepped back and clasped her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t forget to keep them to herself again, and resigned herself to the notion that it was more than army guys that made Willow drop her hand earlier. “S-s-sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” Willow turned away from Tara, and put Amy back in her cage. She slowly turned back before continuing, “You just startled me, that’s all. I . . . .” Willow extended a hand partway between them before she quickly pulled it back as she threw a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the star chart. “I’m still really confused.” Her eyes pled with Tara as she changed subjects: “So, for the spell we need amethyst, black quartz, and halite, and then a geode containing minerals from the other crystals, as well as some standard potion ingredients. I’ve got it all in the trunk here.” Willow pointed to the trunk at the foot of her bed, and knelt before it. “Hand me my bag?”
“Here.” Tara passed Willow her bag, careful not to brush fingers during the exchange, before she joined her in front of the trunk.
This is what it is, to be with her without having her; only able to look when I know what it is to touch. Is this what the closet feels like? Can I do this? Is the high of earlier worth the way I feel now?
“Shall we go get dinner?” Willow asked, once the bag was packed.
“S-sure,” Tara agreed, “We should head out if we want to beat the dark.”
Tara took in little of the next half hour; though this was the first time they actually had a meal together, she was too preoccupied to take in the details. She revisited her earlier internal battle over how to tell Willow the truth about herself. This time, however, the chill that went her when Willow froze at her touch complicated the matter.
She trusts me, Tara thought over and over again,
but I know I’m not deserving of her trust. I know what I’ve kept from her. The fact was that there was no good way to explain, and she was almost out of time for executing a bad way. The spell would catch her in her lie, and it would all be over.
“Think it looks dark enough, Tara?” Willow’s hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality once more. Stairs. She knew these stairs. They were the last of the stairs before her floor. Her eyes followed Willow’s other arm out the window, to the dark February sky.
“Y-yes, it looks dark enough.”
Before. No, she needs to do the spell, I can’t distract her with me before she finds her target, so after. No, before, no . . . . As they approached Tara’s door, her mind toggled between her two alternatives, unsure which was least likely to shatter the trust she clearly didn’t deserve.
Willow entered the room and was all Scooby: she didn’t even bother to kick off her shoes. She pulled out the incantation for Tara to learn as she mixed up the potion and set up the crystals. Tara was grateful that potion was somewhat complex, because it took her much longer than usual to learn her portion of the incantation, and doubted she could hold it together if Willow were to ask what was wrong. Still, when Willow announced that she was ready, Tara knew the choice had been made for her. She would tell Willow after they cast the spell, because she had run out of time to tell her before.
“Great, so all we have to do is cast the spell, then Buffy can hunt down the demon, kill it, and then life can proceed as normal. Well, normal as it ever is in Sunnydale.”
“So the square is Sunnydale.”
“Right it's like a map. We both take different parts of the potion and when we do the incantation we both blow it onto the square at the exact same time.”
“But how does it work?”
Please, give me a way out of being spotted.
“Well that's the cool part. When the potion mixes and Thespia is called it creates this mist over the parts where the demons are. I-It even makes different colors for different breeds.”
“Wow.”
That doesn’t help me think of a way to be missed by it. It’s okay, I can tell her.
“You ready?”
It’ll show the demon she’s looking for, too, so she can call Buffy with its location and then we can talk. She dated a werewolf. We can get through this. Tara nodded. Willow poured half of the potion into her hand, and Tara looked down at it.
Doom is oddly pretty. “Let’s do it.”
“Thespia, we walk in shadow, walk in blindness. You are the protector of the night.” Tara began the spell, shakily ready to face the consequences of her deception and come clean.
“Thespia, goddess, ruler of all darkness, we implore you, open a window to the world of the underbeing.” Willow’s voice pulled the rug out from under Tara’s confidence. That sound had tenderly caressed her ears so recently; she couldn’t lose it now. The startled look on her face when Tara had touched her affectionately in her dorm room swam into focus, and reminded Tara how precarious this situation really was. Blind panic took hold, and she realized she couldn’t go through with it. She had to stop the spell. Had to stop the revelation of her deceit.
The potion. It has to mix for the spell to work. Tara hid her half of the potion under the edge of her covers as she blew gently into the air.
“With your knowledge may we go in safety. With your grace may we speak of your benevolence.” Willow opened her eyes, and frowned at the square, ineffectively covered in what looked like glitter. “Or not.” The confusion on her face pulled at Tara’s heart: Willow looked like she’d pushed “2+2=” into a calculator and gotten “5.” The puzzlement and disappointment were Tara’s fault, and it hurt to know what she’d done. But she couldn’t explain, couldn’t tell. Ever.
Suddenly, Willow stood. “I have to go.”
“W-wait . . . .”
“No. I have to get back.” Willow walked to the door, not bothering to pick up her bag. “If anything happens to me, please take care of Amy. My notes on de-ratting her are in my trunk.”
“W-Willow.”
She’s talking like might die.
At the sound of her name, Willow turned to face Tara. A soft smile broke through her serious expression, and she extended her arms. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Come here.” Tara stepped forward and gratefully accepted the hug. In contrast to earlier that evening, the contact was simply reassurance and comfort. Willow’s arms carried peace, and though Tara knew she didn’t deserve it, she couldn’t turn it down. All too soon, Willow gave a final squeeze and it was over. “Sorry,” she said softly. “I really do have to go.”
“I know. B-be careful.”
“Always.” And she was gone.
The door shut, and the room felt empty. Hollow. Tara turned, and saw the spell setup still on the floor. Tears came as she fell to her knees in anguish.
“Momma, what have I done?”
(okay, so it's only one word, said twice!)
