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I promised a reward to DaddycatALSO for figuring out an obscure joke in my fic. So here it is...Happy holidays!
Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS or any associated characters or settings. I simply like to write naughty things about them.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pointless...
**********
The old house was dark.
All electric lights had been turned off for this occasion. It was Tara and Willow's first Yule in the house they had bought together, and they had planned to make it a special one.
They sat together, nude, in a nest of cozy blankets in front of the fireplace. Holding hands in the darkness, meditating on the events of the past year, they waited for the grandfather clock to toll midnight. This was the first time the two witches had ever had the opportunity to do this particular ritual, and both were looking forward to it.
Anticipation or no, however, both were startled when the chimes did begin, the deep sonorous sounds echoing throughout the silent house. Willow simply sat for a moment more, letting the audible measure of time roll through her, before striking the match laid ready on the hearth.
The scratch and flare as it lit was loud to their ears. She leaned forward and touched the flame to the paper and tinder under the logs in the fireplace. The tiny fire guttered, then caught the paper and flowed upward into a small inferno. The dry pine began to burn merrily.
Tara watched her wife lean back, away from the new fire, and turn toward her. The green eyes shone dark in the firelight. The two women reached for each others hands.
Their joined hands reached for a pillar candle, thick as their combined wrists and nearly two feet tall. Together they extended it to the fire, and when it lit, placed it in hand sconce. Tara rose and moved around the room, lighting other candles from the one she held. Each motion was fluid, full of intent.
When she returned to the fire, she again took her wife's hands, and began the ritual call and response.
“As the year dies, so too does the light.”
Willow answered, in words passed down for generations.
“The dark has ended this, the shortest day”
“Keep we vigil through the longest night.”
“To rejoice at the sight of the sun's first ray.”
Tara smiled, and leaned in to graze her lips across Willow's forehead. Slowly, sensually, she pressed kisses to each pale cheek, her chin, her eyes as they fluttered closed, and finally, her lips.
A sigh escaped the redhead, and her head fell back, exposing a long slim neck. Tara took the move for invitation, and began a series of open-mouthed explorations of that smooth column of flesh. She tasted the musk and sweat of anticipation on the skin, and growled low in her throat.
They fell back into the soft blankets, lips meeting with a surge of passion. Tara came to rest atop her wife, their bodies fitting themselves almost automatically to each curve and swell. Breast to breast, belly to belly, thighs spreading in invitation.
This was an old dance between them, and yet every time it was new. As well as Tara knew Willow's body, she was ever surprised at the depth of desire it evoked in her. As her teeth drew their own path across a shoulder, the gasp and heave of the body beneath her own surged her need higher. To taste, to touch, to surround and be surrounded, she wanted, she needed it all.
Rising up on taut limbs, she swayed above Willow, just out of contact, and tasted her mouth again. She moved her body down, allowing just her nipples to drag over her lover's. She reveled in the whimpered moan, and answering, replaced that contact with her lips.
Mouth wide, she brought as much of the breast into herself as she could, then slowly, firmly, closed her lips, until just the crinkled nub of the nipple still quivered in her grasp. Her tongue came out to play, teasing and flicking, driving both of them higher.
Willow could bear no more teasing, and rolled them over, freeing one breast from her lover's greedy mouth, only to feed her the other. She straddled Tara's hips, one hand sliding into flaxen hair, keeping those lips, that tongue, where she needed them.
She could feel a hand slide up her thigh, and gave full voice to the groan that erupted from that first firm touch at her center. Sliding, exploring every fold and crease, those magical fingers drew from her a symphony of desperate sound.
“Please,” she managed, “need...now...”
And her need was answered, as two strong fingers glided into her, thumb stroking gentle paths of fire from her clit. Willow began to rock, unaware of the sounds she made, or where she was...aware only of the mouth and hands upon her, the body she craved so much beneath her, the woman she loved above all others within and surrounding her.
The peak came fast, sharp and unexpected, carrying her beyond the edges of reality for one long raveled moment. She arched and stiffened, sobbing her release into the still winter air, and folded down into the arms of her wife.
Tara held her, murmuring adoration into her hair, until she began to return to herself. Slowly, the trembling in her limbs stilled. The red head lifted, green eyes seeking blue.
“You are...so far beyond everything I....I would never have known even to wish for you.” Willow searched deep for words to express what she felt. “I...”
“Don't put me on a pedestal, Will. You know I'm not perfect.” Tara's hair sparkled in the firelight, forming a halo around her face.
“If you were, I'd be too intimidated to love you.” The redhead dropped a kiss on the tip of her lover's nose. “You may not be perfect, but you are perfect for me.” She kept placing quick little kisses on Tara's face.
Soon those tiny pecks grew more languid, more lingering. She nuzzled Tara's ears, gnawed gently at her throat. Moving down, she bit and suckled the pulse point calling to her.
As the smile of appreciation on her wife's face turned to rapid breath and slack-jawed groans, she allowed her mouth to explore more fully, her own body becoming nothing but a guidance system for her lips and tongue and teeth.
She bit at the point of a shoulder, licked across and down to the gentle swell of breast. Circling, tasting, she followed the rising flesh to its summit, only to descend again without claiming the stiffened tip. Her tongue followed the contours of a shapely rib, then traced a slow path into the soft expanse of belly.
Tara was lost to herself. She wanted to beg for more, for now, but words were too far beyond her reach. She could only writhe under the magnificent torment of that beloved mouth. A strangled moan burst forth when finally, wet heat surrounded a nipple. When Willow began to suckle, it was as though every nerve in her body was being drawn into ecstasy.
Her hips began to buck and roll of their own accord. Spread against the bedding, wanton, her body spoke what her mouth could not. The aimless wandering of her lover's mouth answered with new urgency, new purpose.
A blazing line of bites and kisses trailed down from breast to navel. A long moment of warm breath on her belly, and Willow moved yet further down to nuzzle the dark-gold fur of her mound. She felt her legs fall open even further, widened to make room for the woman who above all others brought her joy.
Tiny lapping licks teased her center wide, the fleeting, exquisite touches drawing sound from her in sobbing gasps. Lapping shifted, lengthened into laving, strong wide strokes that covered all of her most tender flesh, pausing here and there to draw a fold between warm lips, to delve, slow and strong, into her depth.
And then there was firm, shifting pressure inside, and Willow's agile tongue danced and flickered upon her clit. She dimly heard her own rising cries fill the room as her lover filled her, and she let go of thought, released any sense of time or space or anything but Willow, her Willow, and the excruciating treasure of her mouth and hands. Tara felt the rising within her, and rode it, and sailed across the breaking wave into exultation.
A fiery eternity later, she found herself entangled in arms and legs, replete. Green eyes laughed down into hers, and Tara felt her own lips stretching to a matching curve.
“And to think...we almost invited the gang over for Yule.”
Laughter overtook them both.
Last edited by Morrigan on Mon Jan 18, 2010 12:40 am, edited 2 times in total.
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