by Jessie » Fri Jan 04, 2002 3:17 pm
Tara's POV was told with such insight into her. It's very much the way I see her ... so poignant, so beautiful.
Will's POV is so silly and happy ... also, just the way I see her.
I wait for more of this exceptional fic ... rather impatiently, but waiting nonetheless.
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"And how long have you known your girlfriend's Tinkerbell?"
by Charlie » Fri Jan 04, 2002 6:24 pm
And Nika, hey, I feel your (insomniac) pain… most of this fic has been written at stupid hours of the night! Cheers for being so lovely, babe. HUGS to all of you for reading and letting me know what you think – means a lot - I love this place! Thankee!!!!
Rating: PG 13
Couples: W/T natch.
Spoilers: It’s set in its own separate little W/T universe really – pretty much spoiler free.
Archiving: Of course… just let me know, K?
Feedback: Yes please… self-confessed feedback whore here.
Disclaimer: Joss is God, Amber and Alyson are Goddesses, Mutant Enemy and UPN own all. I just play.
Notes: There is no plot to really speak of. I’m going down the Jossian road of ‘character development’ and seeing what happens. All set in Tara and Willow’s heads.
The Dreamer - Part 7
‘Whereso’er I am, below, or else above you,
Whereso’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.’
- J. Sylvester, ‘Love’s Omnipresence’
I think I drifted off. I think we maybe both did. She’s breathing lightly but steadily in my ear. A couple of strands of hair have fallen down over my face and I take them and play with them gently. She has silk for hair. So soft.
Her arms are still tight around me, hugging my waist. I love the fact that she never lets go, even in sleep. Oz used to move in his sleep and even if we went to sleep spooned round each other, I’d wake up on the opposite side with an acre of cold sheets in between us. The thing I love most about mornings now is slowly drifting into consciousness and having her arms around me and her breath gentle on my skin. I know then she’ll never leave. The mornings are when I’m most certain, when we wake together and she’s so there and so warm and so completely Tara, with mussy hair and a rumpled face. The Tara that no one else gets to see.
Everyone gets doubts about their relationships; well, I assume they do, I don’t think I’m odd. My doubts are fears really. Tara is so much more than I ever deserved and she just happened, and happened so perfectly. She fell into my life right just when I needed her, and I guess the old Willow can’t ever believe she’s really here for good, forever. She’s my dream but dreams fade and you wake from them. What if I wake from her one day and find she was just borrowed, just mine for a while? I know in my head that she’ll never leave, that she’s my always, but the little, self-hating, geeky old Willow won’t go completely away and won’t stop whispering that I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her. She’s the most light-filled person I ever met. And she has stripped away so much of geeky Willow and banished so much of her. Almost. She’s almost gone. I know one day she’ll be completely gone and new Willow, Tara’s Willow, will be all that’s left. It only takes a whisper though. For now the whispers are still there.
But in the mornings I can’t hear them. In the mornings, and when I wake like this in her arms, I’m certain. I wake in her arms like I’m doing now, and I know then for sure that she’s not going anywhere. She’ll always be here, she’ll always be mine. We’re each other’s always, aren’t we? Tara’s Willow. Willow’s Tara. That stays.
My toes are cold. I need toe cosies… or I could turn the heating up. Or maybe try socks. A glance up to the window tells me night has fallen. The clock reads a quarter past eight. We’ve dozed for a couple of hours. Infinitely carefully, I take Tara’s arms from round my waist, first one then the other, and then inch my way out from between her legs and off the bed. She’s fast asleep, lying propped up on the pillows, her head leaning to the side and her eyelids fluttering as she dreams.
I walk to the window. The stars are out tonight in a crisp clear sky, thousands upon thousands twinkling at me. And the moon, big and swollen, nearly full, looks friendly tonight. Funny how the night sky can be fierce and frightening one night, and contented and safe the next. I’m tempted to wake Tara and take her out to go lie on our backs and watch them. It’s one of my favourite things to do. It’s a Tara thing to do; she loves the night sky, fierce or friendly. I never thought a whole lot about it except in a sciency kinda way until she showed me the Big Pineapple and Lil’ Pile O’ Crackers and all the others. Much more fun than the real names. I glance over at her but she looks so peaceful I know I can’t disturb that, and I pull the curtains together, closing us off into our little world and leaving the night locked outside.
The room’s kinda dark except for Tara’s fairy lights which are always on, so I wander, lighting candles everywhere and switching the globe on. I love this room. It’s so… us. The first room we’ve had that is a complete mix of both of us. We both bought our favourite things to it and I love the way our personalities mix and flow and complement within it. Candles, crystals, our favourite pictures, strings of shells and collections of weird stones and sticks. It has lots of plants, which we haven’t had before. That was me. I had a gardening moment a while ago and went a little plant mad. One corner looks like a mini jungle, Tara says, but I like it. She just smiled and looked on amused as I dug into gardening and botany and plant breeding books in the library, and then smiled some more when I got a tiny bit bored as I always do. I never do things by halves, she says. It has to be all or nothing. It’s usually all and then nothing with my crazes. Still, the plants have stayed. They add something.
I love this room just because Tara is here, I guess. She always creates a feeling of safety and peace wherever she goes, makes me feel nothing can get in and disturb us. This is our place. The excitement that I felt in handing over our first joint rent cheque was kinda excessive. Tara teased me when I hopped up and down in the accommodation office. She said I was probably the happiest a student has ever been to pay their rent. I don’t care. It was a joint cheque! Me and Tara paying rent on OUR room, not mine or hers, OUR room! And the stuff in it we chose and bought together. Our things in our room. Silly, I know, but I guess it’s another finger in the eye of old whispering Willow and her doubt demons.
I wander aimlessly for a little, picking things up and putting them down again. Our extra flamey candle that neither of us want to burn anymore so it just sits on the window sill. We’ll keep that till we’re old and blue-haired, just to remind us that we always choose each other, that there is no other choice. I pick through our jewellery box and pull out a necklace I haven’t worn for ages. Buffy gave it to me a few years ago. It makes me feel a little guilty. Once I would have treasured that and worn it constantly, just ‘cos Buffy gave it to me. I guess the most important people in your life will always change. I guess it’s a matter of accepting that and making sure you don’t lose the others at the same time. The Scoobies are OK; we’re just different now. Not worse, or separate, or divided; just different. And part of me can’t help thinking it’s good. Willow Rosenberg doesn’t rely totally on Xander and Buffy anymore; she has self-confidence and belief and she has Tara, and she can be her own woman, maybe for the first time. Definitely for the first time. Tara makes people feel they can be themselves. She teaches self-belief without even knowing she’s doing it. She makes me feel so loved I know that what the rest of the world thinks doesn’t matter. She loves me and does anything else really come before that? I don’t think so.
I get a can of cat food from the fridge and fill Miss Kitty’s bowl for her. She’s purring in her sleep, lying curled up in front of some dream fire somewhere, or stalking more bugs on her little prairie. She was so funny today, her tummy stroking the ground as she stalked bugs through the grass. And she would creep so brilliantly, and then suddenly pounce and the poor bugs didn’t stand a chance. Me and Tara were copying at one point, until she looked up at us and gave us such a scathing look we felt quite embarrassed.
I give her a little stroke and then cross to the bed. Tara’s still fast asleep. She looks as exhausted as the kitten. I love the way she manages to look SO peaceful even in this funny position. I kneel on the bed and scooch up into the space between her legs again, so I’m kneeling before her. Some of her hair has fallen in front of her face in a silky blonde curtain and I gently tuck it back behind her ear. She stirs a little but doesn’t wake. She’s making tiny moans in her sleep, and I wonder what the dream is. I hope it’s a happy place she’s in. I hate it when she has nightmares. She does, kinda frequently, and I wake to her shaking, sweating and crying in her sleep. I have to gently wake her and hug her till she quiets. We talk about them sometimes but mostly she doesn’t want to do anything but lie and cuddle. She says they’re about her family, her dad and brother mostly, and part of me doesn’t want to know anymore than that. That’s horrible of me, I know. I know that one day we’ll talk about it. One day she’ll tell me everything, all her horrible childhood stories, but I have a feeling it will come a little bit at a time over a long space of time. That’s what we do now; it comes out a tiny bit at a time, and that I can deal with. That’s what Tara can deal with, which is more important.
She stirs suddenly and groans. I smile watching her wake. She looks funny, her mouth falling into a tiny adorable pout. She opens her eyes and blinks blearily at me, and then rubs her nose and yawns.
“How long have I slept?” she mumbles.
“Too long,” I whisper, and lean forward and kiss her softly. “I missed you.”
She smiles a sleepy smile at me and I lean in and kiss her again. She slips her arms up to hold my face and run her fingers through my hair, the way she loves to. I slip my tongue in to meet hers and she moans, a tiny moan that feels so good inside my mouth. Willow’s Tara. Tara’s Willow. That stays.
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‘When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.’
- Natalie Clifford Barney
by Quill » Fri Jan 04, 2002 6:52 pm
by katydid » Fri Jan 04, 2002 6:56 pm
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"She practically has 'genuine molded plastic' stamped on her ass.
by xita » Sat Jan 05, 2002 3:41 am
by 'lucy' moore » Sat Jan 05, 2002 7:05 am
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fiat justitia,ruat caelum.
by tommo » Sat Jan 05, 2002 3:56 pm
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"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by Rane » Sat Jan 05, 2002 4:27 pm
by Scout » Sun Jan 06, 2002 4:52 pm
by Charlie » Wed Jan 09, 2002 12:16 pm
RatingG 13.
Couples: W/T natch.
Spoilers: It’s set in its own separate little W/T universe really – pretty much spoiler free.
Archiving: Of course… just let me know, K?
Feedback: Yes please… self-confessed feedback whore here.
Disclaimer: Joss is God, Amber and Alyson are Goddesses, Mutant Enemy and UPN own all. I just play.
Notes: There is no plot to really speak of. I’m going down the Jossian road of ‘character development’ and seeing what happens. All set in Tara and Willow’s heads.
The Dreamer - Part 8
You hold me in your hands
You won’t let me fall
You still my heart
And you take my breath away
- Jason Wade, Lifehouse, ‘Everything’
Her mouth on mine, her teeth nipping my lower lip, tasting me, possessing me. Why do I never get tired of this? Shouldn’t it get boring after a while? How does she manage to make it better every single time?
Her hand traces a feather-light line down my neck, across my shoulder, down my side and settles on my hip. She pulls me closer in to her, moulding her body to mine, till I’m lying on top of her. She wriggles and slides her thigh up inbetween mine, and then pulls away for a second to watch my face as I moan. She’s grinning and I love the way she always wants to watch, wants to see me at my happiest. She says my face tells her everything Willowbabble never manages to put into words. Or at least, manages to put into lots of words but not quite the most appropriate ones.
“That’s my favourite way to wake up...” she murmurs. I smile and slide down the bed a little until my face is level with hers. She moves too until we’re lying side by side, facing each other. Our foreheads are pressed together, and her legs are still entangled with mine. Her breath on my cheek makes me shiver a little and she smiles gently and moves her hand up to caress the skin, running the pad of her thumb over my cheekbone.
“It’s kind of even better than in the morning. In the morning we’re both still half asleep and we have morning breath and everything. That was just… perfect.”
I smile and nod, agreeing. “Mmmm…" We lie in silence for a few minutes. She’s right. That was perfect; all of it is. But can you sustain perfection? Perfection, by its very nature, surely has to be corrupted or spoilt or stained over the course of time. Nothing can stay pure, can it?
“Tari, d’you ever wonder if this isn’t… forever?” She’s giving me her best ‘stop it now Willow’ look, but I carry on. I’ve started now. “It’s just… do you ever worry about it?” She moves both hands to cup my cheeks and moves in a little closer still, till our lips are virtually touching and her breath wisps across my skin when she talks.
“Do I worry about losing you? Nothing worries me more. I can’t even start to imagine life without you, baby. But you know what, Will?” She stops and gives me a cutest half-smile, one side of her mouth curling up, and her eyes shining with happiness and sureness.
“What?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Willow Rosenberg, and you know that. This is where I fit. This… you and me, being silly all day and talking about our fantasies and playing and loving. This is my world and everything else can come and go… but you know as well as I do that this is forever.”
I lean back a little and just gaze into her eyes, transfixed, falling into the blueness of them, the peace and calm that radiates from them.
“You’re so sure. I love how you’re so sure…” I whisper.
“Will, we all get scared about the future, worrying that something as perfect as this might disappear from our grasp. And of course I worry… I wouldn’t be Tara if I didn’t. I dreamt last night that you were standing in front of me, and you were crying. I wanted to go to you and wipe the tears away, kiss them away. But I couldn’t reach you and you drifted off, you vanished into the mist, and I couldn’t stop you from going.” There is such sadness in her eyes as she remembers and tells me this, and I cannot speak. Instead I touch her face, hoping my fingertips will tell her what my mouth cannot. She smiles, shaking her head a little and carries on. “But Will, d’you know what? I woke up, and the fears and pain all evaporated when I saw you curled up asleep on the pillow next to me. And that’s how it will always be. We can both worry and dread losing each other, but we will always be there to let each other know that we don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere…”
“Neither am I…” my voice comes out a croak. I love her. I love her so much more now than I ever did when we met, and I’d never have thought that was possible. She was everything. She kindled this burning realisation in me, starting from that first second our eyes met, and I fell so quickly. The surge as our fingers linked in the laundry room would have knocked me over, had I been standing. It was like life suddenly stopped or disappeared; yeah, it disappeared. No sound, no fear, no nothing. Just her, and her blue eyes burning into mine and her fingers sending electricity like I’d never felt before shooting through my body. All panic, fear, adrenalin, all fell away, and it was just the two of us. And yeah, moving that drinks machine was amazing, but what was a hundred times more amazing was the feel of her skin on mine and her eyes on mine and me suddenly feeling like I’d just found something I’d been looking for for a long, long time. And I could tell she was feeling the same things; I think that’s what was most amazing. We were looking at each other and I was wondering where she’d come from and I knew she was smiling inside.
She’s smiling inside now. Her mouth is sightly open, her breath coming a little irregularly, and her eyes are boring into me like she’s trying to read my soul. But she’s smiling; not her face but the whole of her. I make her smile. She looks at me and smiles inside. That’s maybe the single coolest thing about our relationship. OK, so there are some other VERY cool elements… But making each other smile; that has to be something not many couples ever get. Oz made me laugh; Tara makes me smile inside. It’s that feeling that you wanna run and dance and giggle uncontrollably all because life is so great and worth living and because she’s there. She makes me laugh too, but smiling inside comes from the knowledge that your life is about as perfect as it can be. Only she can give me that.
And now, the way I love her now is scary sometimes. She makes me whole, and that means I’m not whole without her. I love so much that we complete each other but it makes it a whole big world of scaryness as well. It’s why I panic about losing her, because I know that Willow Rosenberg isn’t much of anything without Tara MaClay in her life. Or maybe she is and maybe I put her down too much. I guess Tara’s teaching me that slowly. Tara loves her and that makes her something pretty cool. And so I panic and worry and then I realise she still loves me and I’m her always, her everything. And the honesty and love and peace that she’s pouring all over me now, like she does everytime I need her to, it chases away everything impure and unwanted from the room. And then suddenly the way I love her now isn’t scary at all anymore. We make each other whole and I’m not whole without her and suddenly that’s the coolest thing in the world again.
“Calm inside now?” she asks, placing a tiny kiss on my lips. I nod and smile and smile inside too.
Suddenly she moves, sitting up and hopping off the bed. She stands and faces me, and she holds out her hand. And suddenly I catch my breath, and see her, properly see her. One of those moments when everything that she is hits you in the face. She’s standing, hand on hip, her legs encased in her almost skin tight faded denim flares and they just go on forever. She hates them but I could kiss and lick and love down their length all day. The trousers are moulded to her and she just looks incredible. Her hair is swept back from her face, falling in a shower of silk across her shoulders. The vest top she’s wearing pushing her boobs up and out as well, and she just has acres of creamy cleavage today. It’s one of my favourite tops on her and I know she put it on today because today was ‘Tara and Willow’ day. I never looked at anyone and felt myself remember the love I felt for them every time before. It’s every day; every time she turns her eyes on me, every time her fingers flutter over my skin, every time she stands and looks at me like she is now.
But more importantly, she’s holding her hand out to me and her eyes are still latched onto mine and everything in them says ‘I love you’. All her passion and sweetness and honesty and love all suddenly standing there, and I fall in love all over again. Today has been a day I won’t forget; one of those utterly perfect days when nothing gets in the way and nothing is out of place, one of the days you store up as memory and keep safe. I stand slowly, and she takes my hand and draws me in to her, pulls me close. She leans in and puts her mouth next to my ear.
“Dance with me…” she whispers in her bedroom voice, soft and husky and low, and I shiver again at her breath on my neck. I pull back and look into her eyes again.
“Always…?” It wasn’t meant to be a question but it came out one.
“Always…” she smiles.
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‘When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.’
- Natalie Clifford Barney
by Jessie » Wed Jan 09, 2002 1:16 pm
This is absolutely wonderful. I have never read a fic like this ... ever. The devotion, the doubts ... it's all bundled up prefectly without the contrived writer's constructs that so many authors use (fan fic and other).
You are proving yourself to be, through this piece, a true artist.
Would it sound odd to say that I feel privileged to be reading this? Maybe ... but it is that special. Thank you so much for sharing ... and I hope you continue to do so.
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"And how long have you known your girlfriend's Tinkerbell?"
by Quill » Wed Jan 09, 2002 2:51 pm
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"I'm a very self-centered poet...all of my poems are about 'I'. I can just picture it now, the title of my first book of poetry will be: 'An egocentric book of self-centered poems by someone arrogant enough to think someone would want to spend money on a book of poems about her selfish, boring existence'."
~"Josephine"
by xita » Thu Jan 10, 2002 12:56 am
by tommo » Thu Jan 10, 2002 2:11 am
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"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by Charlie » Thu Jan 10, 2002 7:45 am
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‘When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.’
- Natalie Clifford Barney
by Charlie » Fri Jan 11, 2002 6:58 am
I may write another when I post it at EF so you can read it there, but for now Charlie toddles off back to real life! Hope you’ve all enjoyed it – I have, and I just wanted to say a BIG thank you to those of you who check in every day and always post your feedback – it’s such a boost when you’re writing, believe me. I’ve had people say some seriously wonderful stuff which is hugely appreciated. And a little bemusing. Won’t try and thank you all personally cos I’m bound to miss out someone and offend – but THANK YOU!
Rating: R I think (Xita, can you edit if not...)
Couples: W/T natch.
Spoilers: It’s set in its own separate little W/T universe really – pretty much spoiler free.
Archiving: Of course… just let me know, K?
Feedback: Yes please… self-confessed feedback whore here.
Disclaimer: Joss is God, Amber and Alyson are Goddesses, Mutant Enemy and UPN own all. I just play.
Notes: There is no plot to really speak of. I’m going down the Jossian road of ‘character development’ and seeing what happens. All set in Tara and Willow’s heads.
The Dreamer - Part 9
‘Two women, eye to eye
measuring each other’s spirit, each other’s
limitless desire,
a whole new poetry beginning here.’
- Adrienne Rich, ‘Transcendental Etude’
She turns back to me and the room fills with the first strain of the ethereal haunting music that she loves so much and that I’ve ended up loving too just because it’s so… Tara. This is our music. The first time she ever asked me to dance it was to this CD. Not ‘in public dancing’; that came much much later, when we were much much more sure of ourselves and what we had. No, the first time we danced, it was exactly like this, just the two of us, alone, pretending the rest of the world had floated away. She stood so close and I felt her hands pull me in closer, closer than I thought she could. And we danced, slow and beautiful, until I felt like she was becoming me, moving into every part of me. Our souls dissolving and reforming as a whole. And I never wanted to dance with anyone else again. It was so new and real and terrifying and beautiful and young and… so complete.
She steps in towards me and the smile, Tarasmile, lights me up inside.
“All we need now is a roaring fire and a medieval castle and the romance is complete…” I say quietly, and then wonder where my head goes sometimes. She kinda sends me spinning off into gobbledygook land when she does this.
“Can I be the knight in shining armour?” she smiles, her hands reaching for my waist. Her touch is so light but so sure. Her fingers playing on my sides sends shivers shooting through me, and I smile at how this girl can still do this after all this time. She pulls me closer and I move as I will always move – towards her.
“Only if I can be the princess who needs rescuing from the fiery dragon…”
“Oh, I already defeated the dragon,” she shrugs with a grin. “My horse awaits you, m’lady,” she whispers and her hands are moving up, inching me closer… closer still. My whole body is on fire, waiting for her, swept away in her.
“Just… wait… here for a bit…” I murmur, and its an effort to achieve the coherent thought needed to form the words. Her breath is on my cheek, her heat suffusing every part of me. She’s moulded to me, and yet she’s not touching me with anything but the lightest of touches, the hint of her stomach on mine, her breasts brushing mine. Her fingers slip up and curl round my head, dipping into my hair, her head moving into the curve of my neck.
And she dances with me, our feet hardly moving, our bodies melded together and our minds lost in each other. The fingers of her right hand are stroking the downy hair on the back of my neck and her left hand is pressing gently, spread on the small of my back. The tiny movements her fingers make are enough to send me spiralling. She releases electricity that never fails to blow me away. Her fingertips circling on my neck is possibly the sexiest movement anyone’s ever made. And her hand spread on my back, pulling me closer, refusing to release me (like I’d want to be released). It’s her tiny statements of possession that I adore and that leave me gazing and mooning over her like a school girl again and again. I moan, almost silently, but I feel her face, buried in my neck, curl up into a smile.
She pulls back and looks at me for a moment. “Everyone has another half. You are mine,” she kisses me so so lightly on the lips. “You are mine, and I’m not ever letting you go, Willow.” I just smile and stare and love her silently, and she leans back in for another kiss. Her hand on my back tightens and pulls me nearer, harder, and her fingers on my neck curl closer, slipping up into my hair and caressing. That feeling… her fingers on my head, in my hair, playing, stroking… and her tongue licking along my lip softly… I just let her move me and lead me. She hypnotises me. In a good way. My hands move round her neck without my telling them to, and her tongue slips inside my mouth. Without my realising, she’s moved me over to the bed, and with her hand cupping my head, she carefully lowers me down. I love that she holds me as if I’m fragile, some flower she can’t bear to be treated roughly.
She stands over me for a moment, her eyes still locked onto mine, and then she carefully climbs onto me. Her eyes never move from mine but her fingers find the buttons on the front of my shirt. As they move down she allows them to dart in and feel the skin before moving on to the next button, and I lie, gazing up at her, feeling my whole body burn. She does it with a look; simply a look. The gaze she’s giving me now, eyes hooded with desire but still locked onto my own, is enough to dissolve me. Sometimes in the middle of our lovemaking, she simply looks up and connects with my eyes and its enough to send me over the edge, falling and flying and spiralling. She pulls my shirt open and bends her lips to my collarbone.
“I need you…” I gasp. She pulls back and my neck aches at the loss of her lips.
“I’m here,” she pulls me back into her and I arch my head back involuntarily as she nips and caresses with her mouth. She slowly runs a fingertip down from my neck, through the valley of my breasts, across my stomach, and the path she traces leaves a line of fire across my skin. I gasp and my whole body arches under her. It’s the feather light touches that she sends me wild with, gasping with desire. It’s the passion that she pours into every touch, every fingertip that brushes my skin. It burns me up.
She stands and quickly removes her top, pulling it up over her head and casting it to the floor. I lie back and stare up at her for a second, loving the sight of her without clothes as ever, and then reaching forward, I pull her back down onto me. She undoes her bra as she leans in to kiss me and somehow she unclips mine seconds after. Throwing them both aside our arms reach round each other and we roll, our mouths tasting and biting and gasping for breath, on the bed.
“Tara… Tara… Tar…” Her name is a mantra going round and round in my head. It always is when we make love. She says I’m a kinda noisy lover but the real noise is silent, it’s in me, screaming her name inside. I swear she can hear it though. She hears everything, I think. Or maybe she’s just so much a part of me that she knows without having to hear. She blocks out everything else – making love to her demands so much that all thought is impossible, and except for my desire, I become still and quiet inside. Except for her.
The feel of her breasts on mine is enough to make me ache with desire and need skin badly, and I quickly detach myself from her arms to shed my trousers and then bend to pull off her jeans rapidly. As I crawl back onto the bed she reaches up, smiling, and pulls me down. Her hands cupping my face, her mouth possessing mine, she rolls me over and I lie and love the feeling of her body dominating mine. As she moves her kisses down and begins kissing and sucking my breasts, I give in and just lie there letting her love me. Her mouth on my nipples sends fire coursing through me and my body arches under her. When she moves her attention to one breast, the other cries out for her mouth again. Her hands are everywhere, caressing my back, sliding up to comb through my hair, teasing my breasts until I ache. A moan escapes me and suddenly her mouth is on mine again, capturing the sound. Her fingertips spread, she traces them oh so lightly over my stomach, and I moan again, before grabbing her face and pulling her into me.
Her mouth moves down again, kissing down my collarbone and past my breasts. Her mouth kisses circles on my stomach, while her hands are moving slowly on my thighs, moving higher and higher, until my centre is screaming for her. The hot wet trails she leaves over me cool and burn at the same time. As her tongue licks slowly around the edge of my panties I wriggle and push my hips closer up to her. My hands entangle themselves in her hair, loving the silk, and suddenly she looks up. Her eyes diving into mine, her look of complete desire shooting through me, and my body feels doused in her. She does it with a look. She sends electricity shooting through me with a look. Our eyes connect for only a second before she bends her head again, but in that second she answers every one of my questions and cancels out every single doubt and meets every one of my wants. Just as she does everytime. As the feel of her tongue dipping into me prompts my desire to rise up and crash over me, I smile just for a moment before falling with her, falling into her.
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‘When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.’
- Natalie Clifford Barney
by Jessie » Fri Jan 11, 2002 10:05 am
Oh man, that was, y'know, intense and stuff? Wow. I would love you praise you highly right now, but I think you, uhm, broke me.
Hope to have you writing again soon. Good luck with finals and uhm, 
! 
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"And how long have you known your girlfriend's Tinkerbell?"
by sparrow » Fri Jan 11, 2002 11:15 am
Can think clearly, need a very, vary COLD shower.
WOW, this was a great update, the entire story was outstanding. Off now to clean up the drool and hit the shower, very COLD shower
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"I may be loves bitch but at least I'm (wo)man enough to admit it"
"Yea baby, I'm back"
by Brynn » Fri Jan 11, 2002 11:51 am
After this last part I think I need a cold shower - except I am at work! Hee hee!
by Quill » Fri Jan 11, 2002 1:26 pm
by Rane » Fri Jan 11, 2002 3:27 pm
this was exquisite to read! all of it. thank you, charlie, for such a beautiful day in the life. (um, unless i misread and this didn't take place in a day. lol. i'm such a dork!)
by Scout » Fri Jan 11, 2002 3:40 pm
by willow_thebadasswitch » Fri Jan 11, 2002 3:45 pm
hmm... a cold shower is in order, I reckon.
by boo » Fri Jan 11, 2002 3:52 pm
by Pixie » Fri Jan 11, 2002 5:15 pm
I have to echo everyone else on the mind blowing beauty of this fic - getting into the heads and hearts Willow and Tara, and the poetry of your writing.
Ditto on the cold shower too.
by bearskeeper » Fri Jan 11, 2002 5:52 pm
by KittyKo » Fri Jan 11, 2002 6:37 pm
wow.
by aladdin » Fri Jan 11, 2002 10:44 pm
[This message has been edited by aladdin (edited January 12, 2002).]
by xita » Sat Jan 12, 2002 11:51 am
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