The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe Willow & Tara Forever

by **WiggleStick** » Mon Oct 29, 2001 3:54 pm

I really like this fic, I particularly like the fact that you are willing to use so many narrative styles. And you do them all so well. Outstanding every time.

by **Katharyn** » Tue Oct 30, 2001 12:46 am

quote:
Originally posted by kpmuse:
Glad to see you got some excellent writing done on the island,

Regretably not why I am on the island KP, but thanks!
Thanks one and all, that one seems to have found a largely favourable response, but was one that could have gone the other way just as easily.

quote:
Originally posted by Zahir:
You know, I've never been a fan of "black & white" morality. Real Life isn't. Its full of colors, different levels of light and shadow, etc.
Methinks why I mention this in reference to your work is fairly clear.

You seem to be doing alot of methinking round here Zahir! Methinks you are right, though I rarely think about things like that with the precision that you manage to explain it with. I just work on gut reaction and see how far that will take me. From absolute day one of this fic when I decided to make the concern over the demon one of Tara's main motivations I never wanted this to be "Evil" Maclay Family v's "Good" Tara. It just didn't strike me that was the way it worked. There had to be some reason behind the whole thing - even though it had been corrupted down the line at one point there had to be a real reason for the belief.. Equally there had to be some acceptance from the "victims" to explain how Tara ended up as she was. And with acceptance there is a price to be paid. Usually down the linee but in Tara's dream back at the very beginning.
My only nod of the hat to good/evil is Donny. Who I just don't like, I admit it. But I put that down to sibling rivalry gone mad more than anything else.

The next part is causing me big problems (along the lines that I am not comfortable with it - which is generally a bad thing), so there may be a slight delay though I am still trying for Thursday. More as it happens.

Updated to note that I may have reached a compromise with myself. We'll see how that turns out.

Katharyn

[This message has been edited by Katharyn (edited October 30, 2001).]quote:quote:

by **Katharyn** » Wed Oct 31, 2001 11:54 am

Okay I am nervous about this one… but here goes…

I AM SERIOUS ABOUT THIS READ THE NOTE BELOW BEFORE PROCEEDING TO THE STORY.

A large portion of this story is based around sexual activity, which I am always slightly dubious of posting. After a point that is all there is to it. It is not something I tend to dwell on in my writing but this is the story behind the lovely and dirty look (in my humble opinion) that Tara gives Willow during “Out of My Mind” – Willowhand specifically – though without getting too graphically into the detail - at the end it is left to your imagination. I hope that a reader will find it nice rather than titillating, sweet rather than in any way pornographic and something more than purely sexy. That said it is more than a touch explicit. If you do not wish to read about, mainly implied, consensual sex between two women who are deeply, madly in love stop now. Once again there will be a “fade out” version available via e-mail for anyone who wants the limited plot stuff without (too much) of the sexy stuff. Last time no one asked but (much later on) there was a derogatory and nasty flame. If you know that you aren’t going to like this based on the subject alone then please exercise the ultimate censorship and do not read it. If you didn’t like Burning Bright (Part 21) then again do not read this, just come back for Part 40 – you are not missing too much plot here.

DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE:
- LIKELY TO BE BOTHERED OR OFFENDED BY SUCH MATERIAL
- IF YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING IT IN YOUR JURISDICTION
- UNSURE ABOUT EITHER OF THE ABOVE

Should any of the mod’s object to the content I will of course edit as required to fit within the board though I believe this to be less explicit than other recent fics that seem to have passed okay.

Also if you are likely to fall off your chair do not read it in work. It’s embarrassing to do that.

And with the warnings to “Willowhand.”

Katharyn
-----------------

Title: The Beginnings Cycle – Hands on Loving (Part 39)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Keep it constructive. If you do feel the need to strongly object please send it to my e-mail.
Spoiler Warning: Limited spoilers for events up to and not quiet including “Out of My Mind.”
Summary: Tara, decides to have an anniversary – on no particular date. Set the night before the Willowhand scene in Out of My Mind, a possible suggestion of what that means to them – or at least where it came from.
Disclaimer: I still don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the Production Company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories.
Rating: NC-17 – Sorry there is no way around it this time. See the above warning.
Couples: W/T – who else?
Notes: By the way, I have no idea if there is anything in the world called “Chapswort”…but it sure as heck doesn’t have the effect as described in this story so don’t even bother looking for it. Also as described “Chapswort” is very definitely a spell ingredient not any form of drug, the use of which is not condoned in any way by this story or it’s writer.
Thanks To: My chief research assistant. And dear Kerry who’s reassurances arrived just in time for me to give this one the go-ahead.

The Beginnings Cycle

Hands on Loving

By

Katharyn Rosser

This was the way that it should always be. A perfect day… together. A long morning in bed snuggled together under a warm duvet. A walk on the sand, a picnic, a little spell on a secluded part of the beach. Fun with Frisbees in a sort of “can’t catch it but it’s fun to throw way.” Until a dog ran off with it, but even that had been kind of funny. Of course sand got everywhere but you couldn’t let that spoil things. This was the way it should always be. Despite the irritation factor.

It couldn’t be of course. ‘You couldn’t have a perfect day every day, otherwise it wouldn’t seem special when you did have one, it would just be a normal. And though a normal day like that would be good, what would you have to do to make it feel special again, you know?’ So Willow had argued and Tara had agreed with her. The same logic seemed to suggest that a bad day might make the good one’s even better but that wasn’t a theory that they cared to test. They’d had their bad day, Willow had thought looking back, and actually it had brought them to far better ones. Just keep those coming.

Tara had agreed with her lover on that too, she thought now that there could be more of them, many more. Finally what had been her fate, her destiny, seemed like no more than a suggestion. It wasn't true any longer that she had to go. If she could just hide what she was then she could stay. Her actions would not betray her. She knew that it wasn’t evil – the magic. The demon wasn't evil either or if it was, well she could control that. Her mother always had – Tara had never seen a hint of it, only the magic – and her love. How blind had she been to miss that all these years?

She, her mother, had been able to love. Nothing had stopped that. Not magic, not demons, not evil. Nothing. Tara had known she was loved, had never seen the evil. So why had she always accepted what she was told? That it was there? That it would take her? And if that was true and she could ask those questions about her mother then Tara knew she could do the same. Be the same. She could stay with her Willow. All she had to do was hide what she was. Somehow. They, the scoobies, might not like having a demon in their midst, but Willow… She had never lied to Willow about that. She had never said, “I am human.” But then you didn’t need to did you? It was sort of a given – even at a Hellmouth – that you were wholly human when you appeared to be. Well no maybe not actually. But the point still stood.

This was not the time for that though. Not tonight of all nights. Tara had decided in the aftermath of that dream, the one that Willow told her had caused her to wake screaming, that it was time to have an anniversary. What was in the dream she had no clue of anymore. But whatever it was it had cleared her mind. Clarity was a beautiful thing – especially when you didn’t even realise that you were confused. Almost as beautiful as her love and almost as important. They had missed celebrating six months, probably through scoobyage and despite her recent decision there was still the remote chance that they would never make twelve either. She slapped the gag on that part of her brain once more This day would not be spoiled. Not when she had her clarity and her Willow.

‘Can I use the shower or the bath? I’m all sandy.’ Tara asked, emptying her shoes on the doorstep. Never having been in Willow’s childhood home before she was a little nervous. Mr and Mrs Rosenberg were absent, visiting yet more members of the widespread Rosenberg clan. Willow had suggested their house as a venue for tonight’s celebration – it had the virtue of a kitchen that you could create in – rather than simply feed yourself with waffles and pancakes. Occasionally in the dorm you could boil an egg too, but they had bigger, more complex, culinary plans tonight.

‘Of course you can.’ Willow replied wanting Tara to feel at home, but doubting that she would anymore than she would with the Maclay family. Whom she had still never met… she had to admit she was curious about the people who had shaped this wonderful woman. Wonderfully shaped woman. She smiled at her own mental joke.

‘What?’ Tara asked her.

‘Nothing… just a little mental babble sweetums.’

Tara smiled. ‘Don’t call me sweetums.’

‘Okay babycakes…’

Tara looked at her and Willow cracked up.

‘And I think you could use one too’ Tara suggested to her.

Willow took that as an invitation. Maybe even a command. Which was a good thing. Still it was also true that, after being half buried in sand – which seemed a lot more fun in theory than it was in practice, that she needed to get washed down. It had probably been more fun for Tara who had delighted in tickling her exposed feet and nose with a feather that she had found.

‘A bath I mean, a long hot soak with a few herbs. It’ll help shift some of that sand.’ Tara suggested realising that she may have gone a little too far with the burial thing. Every step Willow had taken after getting up had seen another flurry of sand, and every few steps another gripe. Besides Willow hated to have the underside of her feet tickled.

‘And if I don’t?’ Willow asked having no intention of refusing anyway.

‘Then you’ll just have to suffer the chafing, scratching and itching.’ Tara smiled with mock sympathy and a definite dirty mind. ‘Have we got everything we need for tonight?’

‘We checked that twice already. Everything is present and correct sah!’ Willow reassured her, saw her face and added ‘I mean we have got everything. I was just doing a sort of Riley impression.’

‘It was very good,’ Tara told her.

‘No… it was just embarrassing.’ The ingredients for their anniversary meal were filling the fridge. More than they would ever eat. Xander and Buffy would be eating their leftovers for a few days. Dawn would probably help out too. Scraps always seemed more fun when they were someone else’s.

‘I just want this to be a perfect night. For us.’ Tara replied.

‘It will be love. Nothing is going to spoil it. Now go and run me a bath. I can’t move without dropping sand and I don’t want to get it in the food either. Third door on the left in the hall.’ Willow smiled contently to herself as Tara left to her bidding, then winced as her skin scraped against more sandy residue as she shifted.

Willow wasn’t certain what exactly they were celebrating but Tara had been all over her in the last two days – seemingly since that dream. She had said it was a celebration of their love. One they had missed at six months. She was no more sure than Tara where that one had gone. It seemed an age since they had met and since they had made the connection that first night in the laundry room and, Willow had to admit, it had all started there. Had probably been inevitable from that point on. Her historiography lecturer would no doubt tell her that nothing was inevitable. But this seemed to have been. The early period filled with doubts, dancing around issues rather than each other but always heading towards one conclusion. Willow sighed, closed her eyes and sat back in the easily wiped down kitchen chair, feeling sand tinkle onto her toes as she relaxed and thinking of all that had gone before. All that might follow. Starting tonight – perhaps they were celebrating the end of their beginning. It was a shame that they were not living together… it seemed fitting and it had, once upon a time, seemed like an option but one that had faded away without discussion. Neither of them had pursued it. Why had that been?

Not that she could remember two consecutive nights where they had not shared a bed anyway. Whose bed didn’t matter, but they were together. That was what mattered and in a dorm, the other practicalities of living together didn’t matter so much. What else was there to share that they weren’t already… their lives, their fears, their secrets and their love. Not a lot more than those.

Tara found her there, minutes later, slumped and spread-eagled in the pine chair a beatific smile fixed to her love’s lips. She simply stood watching her for a minute, more perhaps, thinking similar thoughts to those running through Willow’s mind. Then finally ‘Honey…your bath is getting cold.’

Willow, not unaffected by her thoughts opened her eyes, and found Tara already looking into them as was her habit. It had taken so long for Tara to do that, regularly. To find the confidence to just share even a gaze. Something else to celebrate. My love’s confidence, Willow thought. She wasn't conceited enough to think that she had done anything other than let the real Tara emerge but it was nice to realise how far she, they, had come from where they were. Tara wasn’t the only one to have changed. ‘Help me?’ It was expressed as a sultry invitation more than a question. And not at all a command.

‘Here?’ Tara asked, slightly shocked. The way Willow had always talked of her parents she had doubted that they would dare do more than kiss and hold each other here tonight – and wasn’t really sure if she was comfortable with any more than that herself. But to bathe Willow which, inevitably would lead to fun and hi-jinks. In an actual bath. Mmmmn. Practicality and doubts were taking a back seat already in her mind - to the possibilities.

‘They’re away until next week – and I spoke to them in St Louis this morning. They aren’t suddenly going to suddenly like turn up and demand to know what you are doing in their house. With their daughter. I promise.’ Willow was sure. Had made very, very sure and probably aroused Sheila’s suspicions with her probing questions. ‘Help me.’ It was not a question or an invitation this time. It was a requirement. Perhaps that was what Tara needed to overcome her reticence.

Tara held out her hand, took Willow’s in her own, felt sympathy with her love as Willow carefully manoeuvred herself out of the chair and got slowly to her feet with another cascade of sand. Where was it all coming from? Was it magic? Message to self – no more mock burials.

They made their way slowly to the bathroom, Willow leading Tara by the hand, observing with approval the steaming freestanding bath of water, smelling the promised mixture of herbs, oils and other ingredients and identifying several of them by scent realised that they were not all strictly medicinal or freshening. ‘Chapswort?’ She asked in a mock incredulous tone. She knew of course that Tara had some – after all she had given it to her – but that had been months ago. She had thought that it was either used, which had seemed a little selfish, or hidden away for a special occasion.

Which this seemed to be at Tara’s whim. What a whim it was.

‘I-I well, I wanted you…refreshed.’ Tara admitted to her, that cute shy smile on her lips, feeling guilty. For all her protests in the kitchen, by adding that ingredient to the mix she had pretty much signalled her intent anyway.

‘Refreshed is not exactly what was advertised on the label young lady.’ Willow smiled at Tara’s guilty blushes. ‘Are you sure that it is suitable for bathing? I wouldn’t want to get dry skin.’ She smiled. She hoped the implication was clear… have you tried it love? She liked to think that Tara hadn’t used it all for her. There was a little nod in return. ‘Undress me?’

Standing behind her Tara coaxed Willow’s arms upwards and drew the t-shirt up over her head and when those arms wearily fell to Willow’s sides Tara could not resist running her hands up their curves, barely touching the rounding the shoulders and back down the nearly nude back from neck to base of the spine. Willow shivered.

‘Cold?’ Tara checked, looking at the steaming water.

‘No’ replied Willow, ‘but you would warm me up if I was wouldn’t you? That’s what you do, make me feel better.’

‘Always love,’ Tara assured her and rounded Willow, allowing the shorts to fall to the floor in a sandy heap. She hoped that the Rosenberg’s had a dust buster to deal with this beach that they had brought back with them… or there was going to be a lot of time on her hands and knees cleaning up. Course being on your knees wasn't so bad.

Tara took the opportunity to kneel and remove Willow’s underwear. Then stood, kissed her love on the cheek and reached around behind her as their chests met to undo the last article of concealing clothing on the red haired woman.

Standing back from Willow then Tara could see that the other was sprinkled with sand, a fragment of seaweed in her hair. Funny how she had not noticed that before. She plucked it out. ‘You’re a mess honey’ Tara admonished referring to the patches of sand that clung to a sweaty body and showing her the seaweed.

‘And I thought I was a siren… luring you to me.’

‘Oh you do, but you’re a mess too. A messy siren.’

‘Clean me up?’ Willow asked Tara for the favour, knowing that asking was totally unnecessary.

Tara didn’t even bother to respond and just helped Willow into the bath she had probably been washed in as a baby. Goddess, that was kind of weird to think about. Sometimes she wished that she had known Willow that long. Like Xander. But then, like Xander, they might just have been best friends. Instead of what they were.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Willow asked, seeing Tara go absent without leave for a minute.

‘What we are.’

‘Naked, madly in love lesbians covered in sand?’ Willow suggested.

‘I’m not naked.’

‘Give me time.’ The grin on Willow’s face was full of promise. And for that she gave Willow her time, allowing her to settle back into the water, so deep that only the swell of her chest broke the surface apart from her neck and face. Now this was a bath. Not for the Rosenberg’s the cramped shallow plastic mouldings that existed in most modern houses where the water barely came halfway up you without washing out of the overflow.

You could have fun in a bath like this.

They intended to so that was all right.

Willow though was lost in that ecstatic moment she felt whenever she slipped into a hot bath – the moment though stretched and lingered, became more intense. She smiled eyes closed. Chapswort going to work immediately. Deep within her a familiar spring started to bubble. Opening her eyes she was surprised to see, and feel, the tips of her breasts become taut and distended, breaking the surface as she watched without making another movement in the now stilled water.

Tara too was surprised. It was one thing to lose yourself in the effect of Chapswort, it was another to watch the face of another person feeling that. Very… nice. An unadvertised benefit.

Willow, feeling the full effect of submerging herself in the water, tried to sound sexy and husky as she breathed ‘Wash me woman.’ Though she felt sexy her voice betrayed her and she knew it sounded vaguely ridiculous – like Darth Vader on helium more than likely. She wasn’t good at husky, but she guessed that Tara would get the idea.

Tara gave a gentle laugh, knelt beside the bath and picked up the facecloth and soaked it, then gently reached forward to wipe Willow’s face and brow. ‘Soak your hair love’ she said and watched as Willow slipped down, taking her head and face into the water. Tara though could feel a tingle start in her hands and connect through her body with her chest, downwards, pooling between her thighs. Just the start of desire – and just from dipping her hands in that specially treated water. It was, however, more than the start of desire that she felt as Willow, sinking down was forced, by the length of the bath, to thrust her pelvis upwards, just breaking the surface with her pubis darkened to almost a rich brown by the water. Later for that thought Tara as Willow re-emerged. She reached out once more and slicked back Willow’s hair from her face.

As Tara stroked her hair back, Willow followed that hand with her head, trying to bring it back into contact with her cheek as it started to withdraw, like a cat rubbing up against a favoured person, Miss Kitty though had never seemed as desperate as Willow did now. Tara responded and left her hand on that cheek for a moment or so, gently and tenderly moving her fingers across the damp soft flesh, responding to Willow’s need to be stroked there.

‘Come on love. Time for you to get cleaned up.’ Willow almost whimpered as Tara removed her hand, picking up the shampoo bottle and building up a lather in her hands proceeded to rub it into Willow’s fiery mane, probing insistently at her scalp with her finger tips in a powerful massage against semi-magically sensitised flesh, making sweeping moves to sculpt the hair into shampoo held curves around Willow’s head then when fully lathered in pushing gently but insistently on Willow’s head, guiding her head back into the water to wash away the shampoo which dispersed in a film across the water, clinging to anything it met, the edge of the bath, Willow’s flesh, Tara’s own hands.

As Willow rose from the water once more, Tara again slicked back her hair and then took the soap to start work on Willow’s body. Wherever Tara’s hands went they were eagerly anticipated and received by Willow, a hand raising to meet her touch as the Tara gave a soapy massage to Willow’s fingers and palms. Working her way from wrist down fingers, giving each joint and tiny muscle it’s due. Up the arms, left then right, teasing and easing the ache caused by excess of Frisbee fun. As Willow had said, it was amazing that you could fight for your life and never use muscles stressed by throwing a plastic disk. When each arm was raised Tara’s cleansing hands journeyed to the tops of each, cleaning the shoulder and underneath into the arm pit and both wanted further exploration of the swell of Willow’s breasts that was so tantalisingly close when she was there, yet Tara resisted and proceeded to the neck and shoulder blades.

‘Lean forward sweetie’ Tara instructed moving to do Willow’s back, exposed as she obeyed.

Willow sat up and pressing her rapidly swelling breasts against the backs of her legs, she clutched her thighs to hold herself forward and to stop herself from grabbing Tara and pulling her in here too, clothes and all.

Unaware of that threat, Tara gently soaped the proffered area carried on down under the water level to the point where back ended and the spread of Willow’s buttocks began and just for a second left a finger there in the upper reaches before withdrawing and tracing a line up the spine to the base of the neck, causing Willow to shiver in spite of the steam filled air, the descending again to lift the warm water up, letting it flow down the curved expanse to wash the soap away. Though finished with washing there Tara maintained her position behind Willow to rub at her shoulders, Tara could feel the little tension that there was escape up into her hands and from there it descended through Tara’s own body to pool in her chest and between her own thighs. Tension, like energy it seemed, was neither created nor destroyed it was just transferred from one form to another.

I bet Einstein didn’t have that in mind with E=MC Squared. Maybe she should check with Willow, but she was almost certain that was not the basis of the theory.

Possibly a little too much Chapswort she was forced to conclude as without conscious thought her hands rounded Willow’s shoulders to the upper slopes of her breasts still rubbing with some force. It wasn't as if they had ever needed any help before was it?

Willow sighed and leaned back a little into the caress, tipped her head back as Tara took each globe in her hands, manipulating, squeezing. Willow was looking almost straight up now, as Tara leaned over her, into the other’s face. The blonde woman was also flushed. Willow was again tempted then to pull her over into the bath with her, clothed or not, as they always seemed to do in movies…but this is real life she thought to herself. In real life people get hurt doing stuff like that and wet clothes. And water all over the floor. Along with the sand. It’ll be just like the beach. Better not. Instead she concentrated on fighting to control her breathing. With Tara’s hands loving her chest she felt the need to take deep ragged breaths, but the moment was so beautiful, so perfect that she did not want to disturb it just for the minor matter of breathing. Breathing could wait if Tara would just carry on. Instead she tipped her head back and offered her lips in invitation to be kissed from above. A silent suggestion Tara acceded to eagerly.

When Tara released Willow’s chest she heard the groan escape from deep within the other young woman. Felt it transmitted through the shoulders that her hands rested upon, through their connected lips and through Willow’s teeth and her tongue caressed them too. Despite what must have been a conscious knowledge that this was not over Willow’s body had betrayed her disappointment that the moment could not last just a little longer, but the stance was uncomfortable…and by anybody’s estimation Willow’s chest had been more than thoroughly cleansed. Well enough for now anyway. Instead Tara came to the other end of the tub…glad that Willow’s parents had such an old fashioned freestanding bath that allowed that sort of freedom of movement. Though what Ira and Sheila Rosenberg would think of these particular events with their daughter was a matter that worried Tara immensely – especially since Willow had started to mention introducing Tara to them when they returned from St Louis in a couple of weeks time.

Willow was oblivious to Tara’s sudden discomfort…. but the other woman soon forgot those irritating thoughts anyway. Willow felt a hand enter the water at the plughole end, near her feet and almost sank without trace as she reacted to another fiendish tickle there that greeted the arch of her foot. In not quite mock rage she admonished Tara ‘I told you before Maclay…don’t tickle the feet!’

Tara felt she might just have learnt that lesson this time, drenched as she was by the impulsive kick of Willows leg. ‘Lift your leg baby,’ she said quietly, smiling as Willow obeyed her instruction, a shining limb emerging like Excalibur from the lake, toe pointed at her as if accusing and daring Tara to proceed. Tara took that dare, working up another lather and tending to Willow’s limb. Foot, between the toes shifting every stubborn particle of sand, calf and knee. Then the outer thigh and finally the inner thigh.

Willow, her senses heightened by the effect of the Chapswort, sucked in her breath as Tara, leaning far over, finally touched the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, soaping ever upwards, slowly and deliberately. Held it as Tara moved away again, back down to her knee, then rushing upwards and inwards. And away again. The breath only escaped on the fourth such incident as Tara, moving faster, overshot the mark she had set herself and a fingertip finally touched the more intimate flesh between Willow’s thighs.

And withdrew without fulfilling the promise seemingly offered.

The process was repeated with the other lower limb – and though it was without the same sense of anticipation as this time Willow knew what was coming she could not appreciate it any the less. She was flexing her body to try and bring the welcome fingers into sooner and greater contact with her intimate parts. Tara though played the tease and resisted the very real temptation to caress her love then though. It was a struggle not to succumb, to give Willow what she wanted. That was always hard to resist. Willow had been right before. Whatever her love needed she would try to provide. It was just that sometimes it was better to make her wait. Just a little.

Even in her brief disappointment Willow revelled in the conflict playing across Tara’s face. Seeing her love caught between fulfilling a building desire that was obviously equal to that she was inspiring and a duty to simply cleanse and allow them to move on to the meal - with a promise of later fulfilment and joy. Willow could not remain disappointed and guessed that she would not have cause to.

Tara allowed Willow’s leg to sink back into the slowly cooling waters and came again to kneel at the side of the bath. Placed her hands in the water in front of her and allowed Willow to lay back, running her hands along the flanks and front of the bathing beauty, caressing briefly her chest once more, and later again, and again…in between moving to the abdomen and lower to the belly. Washing once more between excursions those peeking tips. And then withdrew and went for a towel, offering it for Willow to step into.

‘You missed a bit.’ Willow admonished her love, knowing that Tara would know what she meant.

Without protest Tara returned to her place at Willow’s side and gave the indicated region a thorough clean. ‘I’m sure you could have done this yourself’ Tara smiled wickedly.

Willow was almost shocked by that joke, never having heard such blatantly sexual humour from Tara. ‘Not with…ahh…your delicacy love. And besides it is your fault that the sand got to those new and interesting places...’ She tried to relax under the ministrations and found that it was impossible as Tara took her duties seriously. ‘Though,’ Willow said, ‘I am not sure that it got quite… mmmn… that far.’

‘Best to be safe rather than sorry,’ Tara told her, not even bothering to threaten stopping just yet.

‘And I am not so sorry now that you buried me…’ Willow told her a minute or so later after a certain point had been passed. ‘Though I am still mad about the tickling.’

‘Get out, you’ll wrinkle like a prune.’ Tara finally withdrew her hands from Willow’s body and stood holding the towel again. Reluctantly Willow obeyed aware that they had greater plans than just this for the evening. Standing, water running in rivers across smooth skin Willow awaited the warm towel which Tara used upon her, drying her as one would a small child – at least until she came to certain focal areas to which she again paid close attention, the rough towelling a delicious counterpoint to the previous silken touch.

With the bath vacated Tara began to strip off her own clothing, damp from the steam and the spray of water that Willow had sent in her direction. Willow immediately ran her another tub of water, prepared to offer her love the same services that she had received but Tara dismissed her.

‘But…bath time Tara… waterborne slippery fun. Your turn… My turn!’ Willow protested desperate to experience it from the other side of the tub.

‘Just a quick dip sweetie, not playtime. We have a meal to cook, remember? I think you should go start it umm?’ Tara suggested. ‘Otherwise it’ll be late when we get to eat.’ Her stomach growled as she climbed into the tub, feeling the sandy residue from the previous occupant sharp beneath her flesh as she sat down in the hot water.

‘Okay, that’s alright. I’ll go and cook you your dinner. Don’t you worry about it.’ Willow joked, hearing the hint and acquiescing as she departed the room with Tara laying back in the bath. She was reluctant to leave now, but Tara was right. They could fool around anytime, well anytime they could find a bath. This was a special night.

She added that feature to the dream home that she intended to share with the soaking woman one day, a big bathroom with a big, deep tub and plenty of access. Mmmmn. A definite requirement. So she had the bedroom and the bathroom planned. They might have fun planning the rest of the home too. They had plenty of time after all.

----------

Despite promising a quick dip it was nearly half an hour later that Tara emerged from the bathroom to find Willow hard at work in her parent’s kitchen. The table in the dining room was laid, the salad ready, the ingredients for the main course chopped and ready. And Willow running around in just a t-shirt. Tara came over to her and stopped her moving round the kitchen…kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘You’re a wonder.’ She said referring to how much the other had accomplished in that short time as well as her general wonderfulness, which was always worth commenting on.

‘Care to join the nearly-naked chef?’ The cook offered jokingly. She had not wanted to ruin her dress by accidental spillage and had no other clothes here other than those sandy things that Tara was stuffing in the washer.

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Tara shrugged off the robe she had found on the back of the bathroom door – equally not wanting to stain Mrs Rosenberg’s robe with beetroot or anything else. That might take a little more explaining than they would face when Ira and Sheila were finally told about them. Not only are we an item, Tara could not see herself saying, but I spilled beetroot on your robe whilst preparing a meal for your daughter after ravishing her in your bathroom.

Probably not the best icebreaker there had ever been in the history of human conversation.

And so they were there, preparing food in Willows parent’s kitchen Willow naked but for her long t-shirt, Tara in her underwear. Creating something special together.

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When the food was prepared though it was time to dress more appropriately for the occasion, each had been shopping for an outfit, wanting to mark this not very exceptional occasion in their relationship and each was not really all that sure of the dress that they had bought.

Willow emerged first having eschewed her earlier preference for longer dresses she had picked up what could only be described as a little black dress and had she not been here in this house would never dared to wear it… and certainly for no one other than the woman that she loved. With quite a high hemline and a fairly low cut front it was more daring than she would ever usually consider, particularly as the back…well actually the back didn’t exist, simply crisscrossed with supporting spaghetti straps.

Tara on the other hand had gone for what could only be described as a gown, long, as colourful as she usually preferred to be and form fitting it merited her best efforts with both hair and makeup too. But the occasion demanded it – even if there wasn't one. She was in the mood for special.

Laying eyes on each other, seeing the other fidget in the unfamiliar clothing each was blown away by the utter beauty of the other.

‘Oh…’

They simultaneously stared, gaping in admiration at the other and forgetting just what they had been worried about in their own choices.

‘Tara…you look…amazing. A classical beauty,’ Willow finally breathed. ‘I knew you were beautiful…. but I never knew you were so…well beautiful.’ Tara thought about that and decided it was definitely a thumbs up.

Willow started worrying though about just what she had implied…that the other woman was not beautiful in a classic sense everyday. ‘I mean, well you know, that you are…wow.’ She gave up. She knew Tara, that she wouldn’t take what she had said wrong. ‘I have a beautiful girlfriend. Even more beautiful than I knew.’ Willow couldn’t shake the joy that Tara had finally revealed just how classically attractive she could be if she wanted to be on a special occasion… her girl was definitely coming out of her shell and if that was what she looked like out of it then bravo! It wasn’t that she preferred this Tara but it was definitely nice to know it was in there too.

‘Thank you - I think….’ Tara smiled. ‘But have you looked in the mirror Wil?’ Tara replied, her smile turning bashful as she asked. Gushing praise of her beauty was something she was still new to even from this source.

‘You don’t like it? You’re right it makes me look like a slut -’ Willow had grave reservations about the little black dress even in the shop…but something about it had just screamed to her – and living on a Hellmouth meant you listened to your intuition…even if from time to time it led you wrong.

‘No…I mean yes I like it and you could never look like a slut love.’ Tara crossed the living room to hold Willow’s hands in her own. ‘I think that it makes you look… sexy.’ Tara smiled again this time proud. ‘You’re like me. You hide yourself away but that…that dress shows you as the sexy woman I love.’

‘You like it?’

‘Well I couldn’t wear it but on you…mmmn.’ Tara leaned in and kissed Willow’s nose. ‘Good enough to eat.’

‘Maybe later - if your still hungry after dinner’ Willow told her absolutely deadpan.

It took a second for this to sink into Tara’s thoughts and when it did she responded by starting to gently admonish the other. ‘Willow you…you…well you sexy babe.’ Tara laughed unable to help herself.

‘Babe? You never called me “a babe” before…I think I like that too.’ Willow crossed to the sideboard where a bottle of wine stood waiting for their attention. ‘I think we need a toast.’ She poured the wine and brought the glasses over to Tara gave her one and took the other hand in the grasp that they had first had in that laundry room so long again, palms facing and touching, fingers interlaced. ‘To you, my beautiful love on no special occasion at all.’

‘To you, my sexy babe. Just being here with you is reason enough.’ Tara replied, raising her glass to meet Willow’s gesture.

‘To us.’

‘To us’

After sipping the wine they leaned forwards into a kiss that was finally only interrupted by bell of the oven timer.

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Satisfied long before reaching the desert, Willow and Tara eyed it warily as if the Pavlova were going to leap up and force itself down their throats – which on a Hellmouth was absolutely not impossible, though definitely at the very unlikely end of the spectrum of mystical events. Probably not requiring slayer attention to deal with.

At the start of the meal they had sat facing each other along the length of the family size dinner table that had always struck Willow as superfluous in a household in which it was rare that even the three members sat down together. It had seemed a long way between them and defeated the object of the evening to celebrate their togetherness by facing each other across eight feet of wood. No matter how highly polished. After the salad starter Willow had returned to the table to find the placemats moved along to the centre of the long oval table, next to each other. Tara had not said a word and Willow had said nothing of the move either. It was just the right thing from them to do.

The Pavlova was between them now. It was not going to move - hopefully. Neither of them wanted to spoil the evening with feeling bloated and sick just to get the value out of a couple of dollars purchase. Xander would make a meal of it, or at least a snack, if it was delivered to him, so by unspoken resolve the desert was left untouched.

‘That was all so perfect’ Willow almost purred contented.

‘And the evening is not over yet…at least I hope not.’ Tara replied, continuing ‘Will you dance with me? I mean a close, slow dance?’

‘I’m not a great dancer Tara, besides who leads?’ Now there was a question that would have been loaded if it had come from a third party. Between them however…

‘I just want to hold you and move to the music. I’ve never danced that way. I want to… with you. I always felt silly – dancing. If you do. Will you?’ Tara asked in a tone that made Willow’s heart melt.

Willow placed a hand on Tara’s knee, ran it up her leg and then connected to her arm and caressed the bare skin there.

‘I think that is a yes?’ Tara asked.

‘Yes… we can feel silly together. Will you think about something for me though?’ Willow asked, hesitating to raise the issue.

‘Anything.’

‘You may not think that when you hear what I have to say love. Will you come back…to this house? And let me introduce you to my parents?’ Willow asked prepared for a rejection. ‘If you don’t want to it’s ok…but…’

‘Yes.’ Tara said quietly as Willow continued.

‘But I think that they will like you…as much as they like anyone… I bring back. They are pretty detached from my friends. Getting the names wrong. Generally being the most embarrassing that they can be. The way that parents are. But even if they never ask, I think they should know… that I’m happy. And I want them to know that the reason that I am happy is that I am with you.’ Willow carried on, not realising Tara had needed no reasoning or persuading.

‘Yes’ Tara repeated, willing at last to think about making plans beyond the next few weeks.

‘You will? Just like that?’ Willow leaned in and kissed Tara’s cheek tenderly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything for you…now dance with me.’ She made rather a better job of sounding husky than Willow had, and went and changed the CD to something slower and more romantic and stood waiting for Willow who got up and slowly made her way to Tara, already sashaying, embarrassed, to the gentle rhythm at which Tara had to smile and held her arms out in an invitation that Willow gladly accepted. On your own it was just silly. In each other’s arms it was love.

It was obvious to each that the other knew no formal dancing, but that wasn't what this was about anyway. And so it was as it had been advertised, moving with the music, held close against each other, looking occasionally into each other’s expressive faces and eyes.

How long they held that clasp neither realised it was another of those timeless moments that seemed to creep up on them so often, though the music was well into repeating itself before either determined to change a thing. By now they were virtually one being, so close, so synchronised, moving as one to the slow steady music. Easier than dealing with the floating rose… and much more tactile. Who needed witchcraft to be as one? Occasionally one or the other would rest her head on the others shoulder, or finding themselves meeting eyes at the same time would sink into a long lingering kiss whilst still moving. It was during one of these moments that Willow finally decided to carry things a little further, making the kiss more urgent and passionate, placing her gently hand on Tara’s cheek to ensure that the other would not abandon her mouth. Some chance of that anyway, she guessed.

And she would have been right.

Tara knew what was on Willow’s mind, what she desired. Personally she would have waited until a little later – enjoyed this for just a little bit longer… but she couldn’t be sure that, maybe, her hesitancy was more due to a fear of further intimacy in someone else’s home. Spurred though by the passion that flooded through her from Willow Tara responded, dropping her hands down from their position on Willow’s shoulders to snake around her lower back and pull the redheaded woman closer, deeper into the shared embrace.

Willow moved her hand into Tara’s hair, entwined in the long tresses and pulling the blonde capped head further into her kiss, just as her body was being pulled towards Tara. That other hand roamed freely from Tara’s other cheek, to her shoulders and down lower, running her hand over fabric almost as soft as she knew the flesh beneath it to be.

Sinking into the moment Tara dropped a hand to Willow’s rear, stroking there, through the dress, aware that with a couple of twitches of her fingers that hemline would rise to bunch in her hands, exposing Willow to her caresses, she did so, raising the hem of the dress expecting to come into contact with Willow’s underwear but shocked to find nothing between her hands and the flesh. Strangely something she had never considered – but would no doubt plague her dreams now for months to come - it seemed deliciously daring for her love to be so attired…or rather un-attired… a little bit dirty even. Breaking from the kiss for a second she breathed her desire filled condemnation at Willow ‘You hussy.’

‘I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Willow smiled knowingly ‘Not when it’s just us. Besides there was the sand factor to consider. Like eww. Not nice.’

Tara responded only by taking over the kiss and resolving to give Willow something else that was nice, attaching her mouth to the other woman’s desiring only to give and receive pleasure and feeling the effects within her own body already as she sent her hands roaming over Willow’s bare flesh and eventually sent a hand between their bodies, again raising the dress, held back by her wrist as she ran a hand over Willow’s belly and kept heading south into the lush growth in the valley of her thighs eventually bringing her hand to what was, right now at least, the centre of Willow’s consciousness and felt rather than heard the low groan that resonated from Willow’s chest, up through her throat and through their connection as her hand probed those most intimate folds of flesh.

Fighting to control her own motions, Tara strained to keep her movements on Willow’s body slow and deliberate rather than as feverish and excited as she felt she needed to be for her own desires. Willow’s reaction was start her own movements against those fingers. Welcoming them, welcoming the palm, the whole hand.

Willow was almost desperate for more…was about to break their kiss once more to ask Tara, to beg her, to give her what she needed now but the other young woman was as experienced now with her love’s bodily desires and needs as she was with the her own and no stranger to the geography of Willow either. This would be pure pleasure and they would talk again afterwards as Tara took her place, curled up in Willow’s arms, satisfied with her nights work.

And so Willow was brought to her shuddering peak, by another woman, stood on her parents expensive rug, naked beneath her dress with her intimate flesh caressed by that woman’s fingers. There was, she would reflect later, a deliciously dirty aspect to it all that had been lacking before.

As she milked Tara’s fingers of every last drop of satisfaction Willow knew that it could not end now, that she would not let it. Both she and Tara had always been more than happy to provide pleasure for the other when they became intimately involved but they had always valued the cuddles and the kissing and the post-pleasure intimacy more than the sexual activity itself… but not this night. Tara had declared that tonight was special and Willow intended to make sure it was as special as it could be for them both.

‘Thank you lover…’ Willow said quietly before kissing Tara once more.

They were still stood there, still swaying to a beat – but no longer the music’s they were only shocked out of their revelry by the end of the disc once more. Tara kissed Willow again, but this time less with passion than an intensity borne of love, an invitation to retire to that small bed that Willow had occupied throughout her life in this house. Assuming this would be accepted Tara dropped her hand and took Willow’s and started to lead her from the room.

Willow though had other ideas. Tara was allowed to lead her to the couch and then she stopped dead in her tracks, allowing their linked arms to extend, but maintaining her position. Tara turned to her questioningly. Willow smiled…it wasn’t over yet. ‘Sit down.’ Seeing Tara hesitate, no doubt just wanting to snuggle up to her. ‘Please… for me.’

‘How can I refuse when you ask like that then?’ Tara enquired of her goddess and sat where was indicated, knowing that Willow was about to make love to her…somehow. The only question being how exactly this wonderful, beautiful, woman would choose to pleasure her. Really she didn’t care… it was Willow.

Willow sank to her knees, ‘I am still hungry,’ she said, voice full of mischief.

Well that answers that question then, Tara thought to herself, not at all disappointed as Willow manipulated the long flowing dress and the tailored split to reveal Tara’s pale legs. Oddly then, seeing her limbs exposed Tara’s mind wandered from the moment and she realised that perhaps, now she was no longer hiding away and there was someone to see it, that it was perhaps time to do something about a bit of sun. Just a little. Her mind snapped back though when Willow sent a hand to the small of her back, encouraging her to scoot forwards in the seat…which she did, allowing Willow to raise the dress to the point where her underwear was exposed to scrutiny…. and removal. Though Willow made no move to the latter just yet instead planting tiny kisses along the inside of Tara’s legs, from ankle to knee and ever upwards to her inner thighs. The kisses were maddening her, promising so much but never quite delivering on that promise and now accompanied by feather light caresses of those long flanks. Eventually Tara could not withstand it, had to ask…beg Willow to deliver… ‘Honey-’ She was cut off by a swiftly raised finger and a shoosh from the beautiful woman crouched between her wantonly spread thighs. Obedient once more Tara silenced herself, content that Willow would freely give everything that she needed when she believed that her love was ready…and by the goddess was she ready…

Willow finally reached forward for Tara’s underwear, delighting in the sight and reluctant to remove them except in promise of what lay beneath and with the removal of that piece of material Tara was exposed to her, vulnerable and utterly trusting in that vulnerability. And as Willow leaned forward to nuzzle that intimate flesh they were both aware that this physical affection was the very least important thing they had done in a memorable day.

Even if it was more fun than a Frisbee.

--------

Eventually though they made it to a bed and neither of them could manage anything other than the slight caresses that usually soothed them into sleep. That and the comfort of mutual ensnugglement. Tara had to ask though. ‘So have you been reading books again sweetie?’

‘What do you mean?’ Willow asked, not sure what, specifically, Tara was referring to.

‘What you did with your hand… to me… For me.’

‘No baby, that’s all my own work, and it wasn't just for you.’ Willow confirmed smug and more than a little proud of herself.

‘Oooh, well done then.’ Tara meant that and smiled. ‘What do you call it?’

‘Umm - Willowhand.’

‘You may have to show me that again sometime.’

‘Okay.’

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Endnote: Okay so I didn’t give you the specifics behind Willowhand. Use your imagination.

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She's my always

[This message has been edited by Katharyn (edited October 31, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Katharyn (edited November 05, 2001).]

The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe Willow & Tara Forever

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