by forrister » Sun Dec 22, 2002 3:57 am
Title: The Holiday Fic 2002
Authors: Katharyn and Forrister.
Disclaimer: Neither Katharyn or myself own these characters. Joss does. (Some people don’t appreciate things they own.)
Rating: R WARNING – Parts of this fic contains smut. Yes, real smut. (I’m not responsible – that’s my co-author’s department.) I’ve been told that R is an appropriate rating for the fic as a whole.
Spoilers: Everything up to the end of Season 5. Season 6 does not exist. (I’m still doing the whole refusal to live in Joss’s reality thing.) I guess you’d call this a post S5 alternate universe. I call it a much nicer place to be.
Summary: Being snowed in isn’t all bad, there’s Disneyland and the cheerleaders. (Yes – we have finally gone round the twist.)
Thanks: “Now is the hour of Scampering.” Thanks to all the kitties who have encouraged, pushed, and given praise to the writers on ‘Pens’. You’ve been the reason for many great fics seeing the light of day.
Chapter 7
“I’m Bored.”
They’d all heard those words many, many times over the last few hours. Even Xander, who was all ill and sniffley was getting even sicker of those two little words than he was his sore throat. Anya had exhausted all the entertainment possibilities of the cabin almost immediately – mainly because, to be fair, there hardly were any. They were still snowed in and even Xander was too ill for what she considered to be the most entertaining use of the time where she wasn’t earning or making money.
And she had eight more E-bay auctions ending this week. How was she going to know how much money she’d made? It was as maddening as it was boring.
“I bet,” she announced, “that I wouldn’t be bored at Disneyland. There’s a lot to do there,” she continued, not really caring that no one was listening. That was the story of her life as a human. They didn’t listen unless they wanted to know things that an ex-demon could tell them or if they wanted to know about making money.
At least Tara listened to her – and she wasn't here. She was off getting all snugly with Willow who’d got the romantic cabin for two. If she couldn’t have it herself then it was probably better that Tara did… if it hadn’t been for Willow.
Tara didn’t listen to her for the reasons that Xander did though – he, at least of this current audience, was interested. Unfortunately he was hardly up to having a conversation. He was just sniffley and croaky – which she found strangely endearing. It made her feel like breeding and having someone else to care of.
They’d all heard it all before. Xander just sneezed and the rest went back to ignoring her. Ever since she’d seen the Christmas resort video she’d not been able to get that place out of her mind.
“There are fun rides, things to buy, and places to see, and all those people in those Halloween costumes, even though it’s Christmas and not Halloween. Why is that?” Anya asked of no one in particular. Anyone who would listen would do just fine.
Dawn had finished the chapter of the book she’d been reading and replied, more for a change of pace than real interest. She’d been before. “They’re dressed up as characters from the Disney movies. Its to entertain the children.”
“Like Mickey Mouse and that dog thing of his?” Anya asked, sitting down next to the youngest Summers sister. This could be interesting – Dawn obviously had some sort of insider knowledge that could prove invaluable in getting Xander to take them there. “Tell me little girl.”
That was too much for Dawn, she smiled as best she could and made an excuse to go across the room and pretend to be doing something that was… else.
After all it had to be a better vacation than being entombed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for days on end. They’d be lucky if they weren’t eating each other’s kidneys in a month.
“Yep, and Cinderella and Prince Charming, and Alice in Wonderland and Snow White.” Xander sneezed again and reached for yet another one of those man-sized tissues she’d thoughtfully provided for him.
Anya walked over and pulled the blankets closer around her sneezing sweetie. “Snow White wasn’t anything to look at. I have no idea why anyone found her worth commemorating in film and effigy.”
Dawn’s eyes lit up and she turned back to Anya. She’d always regarded Snow White as her favourite – when, of course, she’d been young enough to enjoy that sort of childish film. Last week had been the last time. Absolutely the last. Maybe. “I think she was beautiful, that dark hair and pale complexion.” She went back to Anya and sat down.
Anya actually gave a contemptuous chuckle at that. “She wasn’t that much to look at in real life. The dark hair, and the pale skin were true enough. Pasty you might say. And she had a nose that you could park a wagon under.”
That got Dawn’s full attention. “Snow White? You really knew her?”
“Sure, the real one was called Rochelle, and she was the daughter of an Earl who went away on Crusade and never returned.” Anya began to warm to her topic, as this was first time today that someone had actually engaged her in anything approximating conversation since they’d teased her about nasty little jumping mammals.
“Really? Wow.” To Dawn this was way better than history – it was the real deal. Anya would talk and talk and talk… and then she’d surprise you with true stories of the last thousand years.
“Yep – she was left in the family castle with her step-mother. It was the step-mother who made up the whole Snow White thing. I suppose she was trying to accentuate the girl’s good points and get her a husband. It was all about sales and putting goods on display in the right way. Decoration sells,” she said pointedly and in a voice loud enough to carry to where Giles was working. He ignored her though.
Xander sneezed yet again and Anya absently passed him another tissue. “The lands she stood to inherit should have been enough to make anyone overlook that nose though. This was before plastic surgery of course. Surgery in those days was… more bloody and brutal. People never tended to volunteer for it.”
“So there was an evil stepmother though?” Dawn replied, deciding that a prominent nose was not so bad to a pretty girl.
Anya sat down again. “Well, not so actually evil, not for those days. She organized a really good marriage with an Italian Prince who stood to inherit his own money. They really could have done well together. But the girl had other ideas and ran away instead.”
“She did?” Arranged marriages… There were cultures that found them to be good things, but personally Dawn could see the problems with that. The Prince might have had a hairy back or anything. “Into the forest, where she stayed with seven dwarves in a little cottage, and there was a mine and everything?” Dawn positively burbled.
Anya shook her head. “No, there were only five of them, and only two of those were really what you’d call short – like Buffy. The others were about average height. They made their living off mining iron, making charcoal, and the eldest was a sword smith – pretty good one if I recall rightly.” Not that she’d actually paid that much attention at the time. She’d never had to pay attention unless there was vengeance involved.
Dawn was fascinated. She’d loved the movie Snow White since she was little – she still had the Snow White costume her mother made her for one Halloween. “Go on,” she prompted.
“Not much to tell really, she lived with them for a couple of years until her step-mother tracked her down.” Anya continued in a matter of fact tone. “ Funnily enough the woman didn’t approve of polyandry at all. It was kind of frowned upon in those days – the Church had no sense of fun.”
“Huh?” Dawn had no idea what the word meant, but she didn’t think it was good.
“More than one husband.” Giles commented, his gaze still firmly on the diary he was trying to write while ignoring Anya’s little gibes. Whenever she got bored one would tend to come his way.
“Oh. . . . . OH! You mean like the Mormons used to do?” Dawn had heard about such things, there had even been a documentary on TV one night.
“No. That’s polygamy, having more than one wife. But many cultures had similar practices.” Giles put down his pen as he warmed to the subject. “Early Judaism allowed multiple wives, and modern Islam still practices it, it’s a fascinating subject. Did you know…”
Anya cut him off, knowing full well he could bore them for hours with historical details when she had some of her own. “I am trying to tell the story here.”
“Oh. You were? Sorry.” Totally unconcerned Giles went back to updating the Watcher’s Diary. It seemed best to pretend that he hadn’t known that she was telling them anything… then he could pretend he couldn’t hear her at all. The paper was still a blur so he leaned forward and rested his head on his arm. It was really just like school. Of course in school he’d actually done his homework. The diary was still way out of date. He’d made all the notes, but just never got around to writing them up. Currently he was being tortured by Angel.
Little had he known then that working with Anya would seem almost as painful sometimes… at least once a few years had passed.
“Well, she didn’t want a scandal – and Prince was still willing, so she had the girl drugged by a peddler and her men at arms came and carried her off, still asleep.” Anya remembered that bit well, because that was where she became involved. The background story had been something she rarely bothered with – but that one had been more interesting than most.
“But the Prince really loved her, didn’t he?” Dawn asked, desperate to cling to some part of the fairy tale she loved.
Anya shook her head “Not really, it was her lands he loved more. In those days very few nobles married for love and even then they only really met the sort of people that they should have been marrying anyway.”
“But what happened to the dwarves?” Dawn had to ask, although she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
“Oh, they were killed.” Anya paused for a minute, trying to recall the exact details. “Two were in the mine when the soldiers pulled out the supports and caused a cave in, the rest were shot by the Prince’s crossbowmen.” Anya looked at Dawn’s shocked face and realized that something was wrong, but couldn’t really imagine just what that might be. “Hey, it was better than being hung, drawn and quartered, or even burned at the stake.”
“And what about Snow White.” Dawn asked in a strangled voice.
“Well, she didn’t have much of a choice. She was kept drugged to the eyeballs by the Stepmother until it was all over. By the time she was properly awake she was married off and locked up in the castle. She died in childbirth I think though there were mutterings about that too… I mean five husbands and the timing… well lets just say no one was very sure at all. But I did get to give the Stepmother leprosy, and I think the Prince was killed by a wild boar while hunting.”
“You didn’t do that, did you?” Buffy’s voice wafted over from the corner where she was whittling stakes and listening to the entire conversation. Whittling was good – mindless tedium passed the time and if they were attacked by a legion of vampires with tennis rackets fixed to their shoes then they were well set for the defense.
“No – I had something interesting in the form of syphilis in mind, but he went and got himself killed before I got around to it.” Anya replied. She saw Xander wince at the mention of that disease and patted his arm. “Those were busy times, sometimes I had to multi-task. It could get a little confusing,” she admitted. Sometimes, when there were some of the more complex overlapping triangles going on she hadn’t known who was supposed to have done what.
Buffy wasn’t really interested in Anya’s intentions, educational as they might have been, she was only concerned for the pained expression in Dawn’s eyes. This wasn't even a funny story that had any redeeming features. Everyone died. She wasn’t about to let Anya get away with spoiling her sisters illusion. She was well aware of the copy of the Snow White video that Dawn had hidden under her bed. “You know Disneyland could be fun, all those characters to see,” she said casually.
Anya turned to her, surprised that the Slayer shared her point of view. Perhaps it was just that Buffy needed to relax a little – have some fun.
“There’s Dumbo the elephant, and Goofy, and the Mad Hatter,” Buffy paused, making sure she had Anya’s full attention before pressing on, “and how can we forget the March Hare, or Bambi’s little friend, Thumper the rabbit.”
Anya’s delighted gaze turned to dismay. “They have… bunnies? At Disney?”
“Sure they do. Disney films are full of bunnies.” Buffy allowed herself a broad smile and settled back to watch the ex-demon squirm.
“And they let children see such things! What about the ratings system?” Anya was truly horrified. She had convinced herself that Disneyland was the most wonderful place in the world – look at the amount of money they made. How could it be otherwise with a name like ‘The Magic Kingdom’? This was a terrible, shocking development. “There should be a law against it!”
Buffy just watched, enjoying Anya’s discomfort and Xander tried to splutter words of comfort, smiling sweetly at his slightly amused, slightly accusing glance. Finally she got up, walked over to where Dawn was sitting and put her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “I think its time we headed off to bed everyone.” Dawn nodded, it had been a rather long day in the sense of knowing when every minute had ticked by.
“Night all.” Buffy called as she closed the bedroom door behind them. Only Dawn saw the smug little grin on her face. One more demon slain. The thought gave her pleasant dreams that night. Buffy Summers might be on vacation, but not the Slayer.
*******************
Tara watched Willow lying in the bed and as she did so she was watching the expressions brought on by dreams playing over her lovers face. It was late in the morning now and they’d already been awake once, but by mutual consensus they’d allowed sleep to claim them again. The weather was calmer outside, shivering Tara had made her way to the window to look, but still not passable without something like snowshoes – which they didn’t have – and very warm clothes, which they couldn’t be bothered to put on when… well…
Less was definitely more, at least clothes-wise in this cozy cabin. Heat wasn't going to come from fabric. It was going to come from contact.
From Tara’s point of view the main attraction of falling asleep again was so she could wake up with Willow one more time… or so that she could wake up and watch Willow dream on as she was doing now. This was good too.
Willow was just so cute when she was sleeping. Cute was fine, but Tara preferred the beautiful woman that she was when she was awake. It wasn’t that sleep indicated a lack of love… but there was definitely less passion in dreams. Wasn't there? As she watched a smirk cross Willow’s face she wondered if, in fact, her lover was awake and just pretending, knowing Tara was watching her.
But no, after the smirk there was a shuddering sigh the likes of which Willow could never have faked.
Tara recognised both the sigh and the expression very well. She’d seen and heard Willow in the grip of passion often enough to know just what those meant. After the sigh Willow made some tiny, quiet, little sounds that might have been a word or two. Or not. “What was that honey?” she asked gently, determined to see if she could talk to Willow whilst she was in that other world.
“Oooh, bendy Tara,” Willow repeated, but more clearly this time.
Bendy? What the heck was happening in that dream?
---------------------------
She didn’t know where Buffy and Xander had gone and for some reason her hair was so much longer than it should have been… but she was somewhere that she remembered very well. The gym at Sunnydale High. She sat in the bleachers and rested her chin on the back of her hands as her elbows in turn rested on her knees…
And sighed.
Investigation. That was why she was there. There was something bad happening… and something that was… mmmmn… well good. There was something about witches, spontaneous combustion and all sorts of other things… and then there were the cheerleader try-outs. Which she’d been waiting for, for like… ever. Or at least since she’d found out that a certain person was trying out.
A certain Miss Maclay.
She’d been here before, but never quite… it hadn’t been like this. There had been more… urgency the last time.
And hadn’t the whole place burnt down when they blew the school up?
She’d sighed her way through the last performance and she couldn’t quite remember how good or bad it had been because her eyes had been fixed on the individual who’d been trying out. The long blonde hair tied back carefully and the uniform…
Oh the uniform. Such a little skirt. Such a tight t-shirt. She’d never dreamed that… except she was dreaming. Wasn't she?
If she hadn’t intimately known the curves that composed that luscious body then she would have been able to see them anyway. The curves, the jiggling, the bendiness and the lovely legs as the wannabe cheerleader had kicked to impress. Kicked in her direction.
Willow was impressed. Willow was very, very impressed. And bemused. It was so unlike the person she knew…
Somehow she didn’t think that she was investigating enough though. It was very possible that the bad stuff could be going on in the locker room that the would-be cheerleader had just walked off towards – leaving the gym and the tryouts behind. There could be badness in there. In the girls locker room. There often had been badness there. Before. And she was a girl too… she should probably go and make sure that it was safe.
Do the investigation thing.
That could be… it could be that Tara was in danger. She had to go help.
Just in case.
Willow made her way down the row, then down the steps onto the floor of the sports hall. She passed Xander doing a limbo under a girl who was supported only the feet that rested on the two chairs she was doing the splits over. “Should you be doing that?” she asked him.
“You never know where evil is lurking,” he pointed out. Hunting in his clown suit probably wasn't the most inconspicuous way of going about tracking evil though. “Besides… it’s okay she’s Anya.”
“Hi,” Willow said. “I never knew you were a cheerleader.”
“Well obviously I wasn't – I was still a demon then, but Xander always liked it and…” Perhaps she read Willow’s expression when she decided that discretion was best.
Wow this was a weird dream. Anya discrete?
“Besides,” Anya added, “Do you think the girl you were following was here back then either?”
Willow sighed. Just the mention if that girl brought her lovely face to mind. “I’m going to go and protect her,” she said dreamily.
“Good luck with that,” Anya told her and with those words Willow found herself outside of the locker room instead of in the gym.
Anya… being nice? Hmm. Anya here at school? Then? Now?
She pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The whole place was deserted except for…
Tara.
She was still dressed in her little uniform, which was very good. Willow liked the little uniform on her. They were a big factor in her decision to come and protect this girl from… well whatever locker monster might exist in this changing room this week.
Tara’s foot was resting on the bench that ran down the centre of the room as she retied her lace. Willow came over and sat next to her, unable to resist casting her eyes upwards along Tara’s smooth legs to the edge of the little skirt. Did it make her bad to wish that she would be able to see a little further?
“D-Did you like my routine?” Tara asked her, sounding a little nervous. She didn’t remember Tara being this nervous for a while. But… then here… they’d hardly spoken? Or were they already best friends?
“Well…” Willow started and was aware of the expectant eyes that were on her. “I was looking out for evil.”
“You missed it?” Tara asked. “My routine. But it was just for you.”
Willow hadn’t been able to take her eyes off it… she just couldn’t remember it from a quality point of view. That was embarrassing. “I’m sure that you were very good and everything. Very… bendy,” Willow reassured her. “Not that I ever pictured you as, you know, the cheerleader type. Neither giving nor receiving of the cheers. Like me.”
“But you did picture me as a cheerleader,” Tara told her. “That’s why we’re here sweetie, because you did – in your head one time.”
“Oh,” Willow thought about that and started to play with the elastic at the edge of Tara’s sock. “Well… if this is all down to me then, you know… maybe I should watch your routine. Will you be doing it again?”
Tara smiled at her, moved and skirt shifted to expose the white panties covered fulcrum of her legs. In response Willow started to circle her fingers around Tara’s raised calve. “I could do that…” she said.
“Or…?” Willow asked.
“Maybe I won’t,” Tara teased, moving along and lifting her leg over Willow’s thighs then easing her self down to sit on Willow with her legs shifting to enclose her. Willow felt arms close around her for additional support and then Tara was rocking against her. “Maybe I never need to dance for anyone but you ever again.”
Pulling herself in closer, Tara was right there and Willow knew that this wasn’t how the investigation had originally gone, but this was definitely a better version of that day. So Cordy went blind… Buffy could deal with that. She had her hands full right now. Tara’s hands were on the back of her head and her lips were seeking out Willow’s own.
Seeking, meeting, kissing.
Parting, probing, teasing.
Willow took one hand to the back of Tara’s head, determined that there was no way this beautiful would-be cheerleader was going to escape her now. The other… the other she took down Tara’s body. Over the tight t-shirt where the sports bra was so clearly outlined. Further down until her fingers were playing with the hem of the skirt. It was so high up that it was hardly worth calling a hem at all. Was there a name for the edge of a belt?
Still, this was no time for semantics. Her fingers flipped the skirt upwards and dove beneath to the place that Tara was already pressing against her as she rocked. Spread around her, Willow had seen enough of the routine to know that this young woman wasn’t as spread as she could be… but it was enough right now to allow things to happen that they wanted to.
Her fingers slipped down over the raised mound of flesh, feeling the springy hair beneath the tight cotton and then lower still until they were moving over obviously parted and swollen lips, pressing into the cleft through the fabric. Tara moaned into her mouth until Willow pulled back from the kiss and then Tara moaned even louder. That second time it was a protest.
“Why do you want to be a cheerleader?” Willow asked, really wanting to know what would make this shy woman expose herself to the scrutiny of others like that.
“I don’t” Tara breathed. “I never did this…”
“Then… why did you do the dancing thing with the pompoms?” Willow wondered. If Tara didn’t want to be… to do…
“I only ever danced for you my sweet… and it got you here didn’t it?” Tara replied and pulled her lips back to Willow’s.
All Willow could reply was “mmmmn.” It was all she would have said even if Tara hadn’t been thrusting her tongue into her mouth.
“Besides,” Tara started to ask her as Willow’s fingers slipped behind elastic, “isn’t this every high school girls dream?”
“What’s that?” Willow asked as her fingers sought out Tara’s eager flesh.
“To f-fuck the cheerleader…” she completed.
-------------------
“I said that? Me?” Tara asked her lover when Willow had shifted out of the dream world. She’d been able to hear Willow’s half of the conversation and the idea that the final question… that had prompted a breathless ‘yes,’ was using that word… well it just wasn't her. It really wasn't. But the Tara in the dream… she hadn’t been a cheerleader. It had been her… A dream her. All she wanted was Willow. The only person she had ever danced for was Willow.
“It wasn't you,” Willow replied quietly, a little embarrassed about where her dreams had taken her – but when Tara asked she could hardly deny it. Not to this beautiful love of hers. Except it had been Tara as well.
“No,” Tara told her. “It wasn't. Why did I ask you that then?”
Willow flushed, she felt her cheeks turn a bright shade of red, suffused with heat… almost as suffused as other parts of her – the legacy of the dream. Not to mention the presence of her lover here as well as there, in the dream. Here was better… here Tara was already hers.
“Because… well, you know… in the dream… we… its kind of hard to explain,” Willow hedged. She wasn’t sure just what Tara would think of her dream. It was… well it had been Tara, but it clearly hadn’t been any Tara that she’d ever known. It was just a dream, but when she talked about it then it might seem to be more of a fantasy – to Tara at least.
“Sweetie…” Tara said. She knew that it was all that she needed to say. The tone, the look and the word were everything.
How could she resist her love when she spoke to her like that? Tara could break her every time. There was just no holding anything back from her. Nothing at all. “Well… you were a cheerleader.”
“Me?” Tara asked. Wow. That was… different. Definitely not something she’d tried at school, or wanted to. “Like a Laker Girl?”
“Not exactly,” Willow admitted. “More… High School tryouts sort of thing.”
“Was I any good?” Tara asked her.
“I don’t remember,” Willow said quickly. And she didn’t. She hadn’t been following the routine.
“I sucked then,” Tara surmised. That was no surprise – something as deeply stupid as cheerleading was something that she would be glad to suck at. She had to admit that, perhaps if she’d ever been one then she wouldn’t have thought that it was such a waste of time. It was, after all, just positive thinking – but with kicks, jiggling and pompoms. Positive thinking was important.
“I really don’t remember,” Willow confirmed. She’d known that she’d seen the routine… but she didn’t remember it at all. Dreams. Still the good bit had been… getting good when she woke up.
“So what happened?”
“I followed you into the locker room. You told me that you’d been dancing for me,” Tara smiled at that, “and we… you know.” Willow gave Tara her own smile was a little discomfited when her lover didn’t continue to return that.
“Is that what you like?” Tara asked, deliberately keeping her tone carefully neutral. There was fun to be had here. “Locker rooms? Uniforms?”
Willow looked at Tara, tried to figure out what her opinion on all that was. Was she playing or was she upset by it?
“Bendy girls?” Tara went on, desperately trying to keep the grin off her face as Willow’s own face contorted in confusion and worry. “Did you like to visit the cheerleaders?” she pressed.
“There was just the once that we went to the tryouts… all of us. And there was serious badness to be fought there. There was a witch,” Willow summarized.
Tara just looked at her.
“A bad witch,” she tried again.
“And how did you find out about that?” Tara asked. She’d already heard this story… she knew how they’d found out. She knew most of the Scooby stories, especially those involving magic or anything to do with poor Amy… still a rat in a cage. And she knew that, back then, Willow wouldn’t really have dreamed of visiting the try-outs to look at the girls in their uniforms. That was more Xander’s motivation – bless him. Still she might know it, but Willow was clearly having to think on it.
“We were…” Willow thought back. “We were… errr…” They’d just been there. There had been no badness really – the investigation wasn't why they’d been there. They’d gone to support Buffy! That was it. They were there to support their friend. “We went to support Buffy at the tryouts.”
“That’s not what Xander said,” Tara teased.
“Xander… he’s a man, he just liked looking at girls in uniforms… all stretchy and bendy… and…”
“If that girl was Buffy so much the better?” Tara finished for her.
“He did have a serious crush on her,” Willow told her. This was good. A nice neutral topic. Xander’s infatuation with Buffy. He’d hate to have it mentioned now, but it had been part of who he was pre-Anya.
“And you were all supporto gal?” Tara continued.
“Exactly.”
“Not there for the scantily clad ladies in revealing postures at all?” Tara suggested, struggling to keep her voice level. Willow was just so much fun to tease sometimes that she couldn’t resist. Especially when her sweet woman thought that she might have done something wrong by even thinking about it.
This was even better, because whilst there would have been nothing wrong with Willow looking back then, she would be thinking there was. Tara knew better though. The dream had been of her in that uniform. Willow had confirmed it. That was different. Even if Willow had been there all those years ago for anything more than supporting Buffy, which she knew wasn't true, now all Willow saw was her. And being there, in her dreams as well as her life, was a very good thing.
She wouldn’t tease Willow for too much longer though.
At least not verbally. There were better ways to tease. Some of which still involved her mouth.
Lips and tongue.
“No… I mean I didn’t even know that I was interested -”
“So you are interested in cheerleaders?” Willow just made it so easy for her. About to say in girls… Tara had deliberately taken it the other way.
“Yes,” Willow squeaked. Then she saw Tara’s grin. “But just when they’re Tara shaped cheerleaders.” She turned in the bed and looked at that shape, obscured as it was by the quilt. She liked Tara shape. She wanted to see more of Tara shape now.
Not that she hadn’t got the look, feel, taste and smell of Tara shape engrained in her memory… along with the sounds that went with that. It was nice to get a regular reminder of those though.
“Tell me what I said next,” Tara breathed thickly at her.
“You didn’t say much…” Willow responded. “It was mainly moans, you know?”
-------------------------
Tara moaned as Willow’s fingers found what they were looking for. She knew, here within the dream, that she should have been able to seek that place a little more expertly – that she had the intimate knowledge that was required. Somehow this lovely young woman, everything about her, was engrained in her head.
But somehow that hadn’t translated into practical dream seeking… more sort of fumbling.
But that was fun too and Tara, the cheerleader in her lap, didn’t seem to be complaining about fumbles.
This pretty much was her dream.
Tara was her dream… and Tara was, finally, here for her. Finally? Tara was always there… but here, in the dream, she had her hands on Tara for the first time. She had her lips on Tara. She had hands in that luscious hair and she had another hand in… well other hair.
Not on her head.
It was nice to finally be here.
Now see… thinking like that she would have thought that this was her first time… but then… she knew exactly what she wanted and she knew just what that was going to be like too. Freaky things – dreams. But pretty damn good right now too. Just as Tara was feeling so good to her.
She circled her fingers in a way that she was sure that Tara was going to like very, very much and she recognised the way that the wannabe cheerleader closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She felt the growl that rumbled in Tara’s throat as she leaned forward and took advantage of the chance to layer her kisses over that part of her.
The contours of that long neck should have seemed strange to Willow, after all she’d never kissed anyone before – let alone Tara – but… she knew them. Such a strange thing to know. The shape and feel of someone’s neck beneath your lips. You’d have to kiss someone a lot to know that sort of thing.
Stranger to know that if she did this then Tara would press herself forward towards her, even closer, those legs surrounding her waist and something else entirely surrounding her fingers.
She couldn’t deny that Tara had the dream pegged… just so long as the cheerleader was Tara herself.
Tara moaned.
-----------------------
“That’s your fantasy then?” Tara asked as she squatted by the fireplace and tore up strips of newspaper. “Cheerleaders sitting in your lap in locker rooms?”
“No baby, it was just a dream,” Willow responded as she watched Tara go through the process of relighting the fire. She had to say that the dream had already relit her fire though. Talking about it, remembering the… well they were juicy details… and watching Tara by the fireplace naked as the moment she’d rolled out of bed… that was all getting her fire burning pretty hot thank you miss.
“Oh,” Tara commented a little disappointed. It had sounded like a fantasy.
Willow watched her lover, noticing how cold it must have been outside of the snugness of the bed. She would have thought, ordinarily, that it was a small bed, but in these conditions it was better to be so close to each other in the mornings. Tara was still tearing off strips off paper for the fire. Just to get it going. Her baby was disappointed by that? That she had denied it was a fantasy?
Tara wanted Willow.
First she had to get the fire lit, but… she wanted to be with Willow. Hearing what she’d heard, how could it not affect her? She was Willow’s fantasy and Willow was hers.
She bent to the fireplace and thrust a good portion of the paper atop the fresh logs she’d already put in there then hunted around for the matches. “Sweetie? Did you see the matches?” Willow had lit the fire the previous morning – they’d managed to keep it going then through the day.
“Matches, smatches,” Willow responded, calling the necessary spell to mind but before she could do anything with that Tara had, in her glorious nudity, obscured her view of the fireplace.
“No. Sweetie. Have you seen the matches?” Tara was quite firm. She still remembered the barbecue on the beach. She neither wanted a flash of flame like that nor a rainstorm inside the cabin. Things were chilly enough right now without being all wet.
Even if not all wet things had to be chilly.
She slowly walked over to Willow holding out her hand as Willow leaned over the side of the bed and searched for the pocket she’d left them in. Tara smiled as the expanse of Willow’s naked back was exposed to her sight. And as the quilt slipped there was the start of the divide of her buttocks. If she’d been lying on the floor down there she’d have been able to kiss Willow and caress her breasts whilst she searched.
Nice idea, if uncomfortable. She could have them in easier ways.
Willow found the matches and Tara’s toes were in her eye line as she tried to carefully fold her clothes again. It was tough, lying on her front over the edge of the bed like that and trying to tidy things up. Especially with Tara’s toes wiggling, seemingly impatiently. She lifted her head, her eyes sliding around Tara’s ankles, up the long sweep of her calf to her knee.
Then it started to become more of a strain.
She tipped her head back and the journey continued up Tara’s thighs.
Tara watched Willow’s slow look take her in. She had deliberately moved in close to her sweetie and she’d deliberately positioned herself so that there was only one place that Willow’s eyes could end up. She wanted Willow to know what she was doing to her. What she always did to her… just a little more so when she talked like that though.
Willow’s view slid along Tara’s smooth thighs until they came to the apex and the treasure that waited there for her. She was craning her neck to take in the sight, but the best view was always at the end of the hardest journey. Treasure indeed. All glistening and sparkly. She felt her tongue part her own lips… and she could only wish that it were Tara’s lips that she was parting right now.
It wouldn’t take long to get to that now would it? Tara so obviously wanted… and she wanted too. They both wanted… so there should be no problem at all.
Tara watched Willow lick her own lips… and she knew what her baby was thinking. She would be thinking, she was thinking, the same thing. Willow’s poor neck gave up the uneven struggle against gravity and her head sagged, but her hands were reaching for the tops of Tara’s toes. Stroking them, up her feet as far as she could go in that position.
“Roll over,” Tara told her.
“Huh?” Willow replied. She really didn’t get… Ohhh that.
She rolled over and Tara didn’t let her slip further onto the bed, so she was forced to support herself in part with her hands, reaching back which meant that she couldn’t reach for Tara any more. And her baby seemed to like that as she stepped closer so that Willow was looking straight up at the centre of their mutual desire. She thought that Tara might just lower herself over her face then, but that wasn’t what her lover had in mind it appeared.
So Tara was moving past her, round her back stretched hands and she was climbing onto the bed, lifting the covers. Willow felt the chill air rush into the snuggly pit under the duvet that still part covered her but Tara’s warm body was quickly against her and Tara’s lips were on her hers… briefly. Then they were on her throat, then her breasts which ached to be rubbed, kissed or squeezed… something. Tara seemed to realise that and that was probably why those hands were on her now, even as Tara slipped lower.
“This,” Willow breathed, “wasn’t how the dream went.”
The denial matched the moment when Tara’s lips paused in their slow, deliberately teasing descent. She felt the breath of air over her hot flesh as Tara spoke. “No sweetie, this will be better than any dream.”
And then Tara lips were on her. Kissing her gently all over… until… until… Tara’s tongue slipped from between them and in between Willow’s other lips. She tried to wriggle, to make her way further onto the bed, so that she had some support, but Tara wasn’t having any of that. Hands on her boobs, from being delightfully playful, were now controlling her movements. She just knew that Tara didn’t want her to move and she realised that she was…
Absolutely exposed to being kissed and loved. Tara was between Willow’s spread legs and her sweet girl was balanced back on her hands. She couldn’t move back onto the bed and she couldn’t use her hands at all. Willow was at her mercy… or maybe at her pleasure. Tara dipped her tongue between the swollen lips and thought about what her pleasure actually was.
So Willow wanted to dream of cheerleaders huh? That was fine. Tara would never admit, at least not now, that she’d been dreaming of cheerleaders much, much earlier than her love. But just as Willow, whose breasts she was caressing, was seeing her… all of those dreams had morphed into Willow shaped dreams.
Willow shaped… she removed her hands from Willow’s small breasts and watched as gravity quickly flattened them against her chest… all but the small peaks. Willow shaped was fun. Helpless Willow shaped… that was going to be even more fun. She didn’t have anything special in mind. Certainly nothing with the running joke that was the cucumber, but there was something appealing about just being able to pleasure her lover whilst she could do nothing about it. Nothing but moan, cry out and beg her for more.
She’d have to hurry though, before Willow’s arms gave out.
Or… well not hurry, Tara thought as she sought out that delicate nub of flesh that she was after, maybe it was just not taking her time that was needed. Urgency might come.
Willow definitely would.
Willow pushed her head as far forward as she could. Her arms were starting to quiver, but all she could think about was…
No she wasn't even thinking, was she? All she could feel was the symphony of pleasure that Tara was just starting to play for her, down there. If she strained though she could see Tara’s delicate movements. At least until long hair hid the connection. When her hands were free she would have moved that aside just so that she could see Tara’s face.
Tara’s face pressed up against her…
The delicate motion of that tongue and sometimes fingers.
But… she sort of realised that usually she would have been looking as much to anticipate for a split second as to savour… and this way, even if Tara hadn’t planned it, there was no anticipation. Anything Tara chose to do was a surprise to her. And, you know, for such a small part of her body there were a lot of surprises to be had.
Dabs, licks, thrusts. Teases and swipes.
On that most sensitive part, around it… further away on her thighs.
All sorts of surprises, she just let her head hang back, looking at the rest of the room upside down as Tara ate her pussy out. Just lay back, Willow told herself, and enjoy your lover’s attentions.
Then, she thought as she felt a moan escape her, she would pay Tara some attention. After her girl had finished of course… it would be rude to try and interrupt. Ohh…
Massaging Willow’s breasts now, but paying careful attention to the nipples that Willow loved to have played with, Tara’s movements were almost automatic. She could savour them without thinking of them. She could savour Willow and her response without having to worry about how to bring those responses about. It was so different to their first times… Where they’d been so worried about being ‘good’ when really they could never be bad.
Except in a good way.
Being able to free her mind, to take in the sensations of loving Willow and making love to Willow, also let the thoughts about Willow’s dream come into her mind. What Willow had started to describe. That was what had made her so… frisky… in the first place. At least this time.
She closed in, reading Willow she knew that it was time to stop teasing, to stop playing elsewhere and bring… well to bring Willow off. She would have smiled if her face hadn’t pressed into her lover’s pussy at that moment, she pulled back a little to sound out Willow’s clit with the tip of her tongue. Pulling back encouraged Willow to follow her and seek out what she wanted and that was always better than just giving it to her.
Wanting Willow. That was what she liked. To make Willow want and then to deliver that for her.
Tara’s tongue danced over her lover’s most sensitive part and Willow could feel her climax rising within her. She knew just when it was likely to break… and she knew that Tara was more than aware of that. Tara was reading her, playing her. Tara knew and that was why she was forcing the issue… that was why Tara’s fingers had taken to tweaking her nipples as she had come to like so much.
That was why Tara’s tongue was, aside from their love, the most important thing in the world to her right then. That was why cries were escaping from her. Tiny cries that were no more than whimpers and bigger wracking cries that were becoming more and more the norm. She could hear them but she couldn’t have done anything to stop them if she’d wanted to.
And she didn’t want to stop anything. Anything at all… nothing.
She forced her head back up to look down her body at Tara loving her. The hair somehow been moved aside and she could see Tara very carefully paying attention to just the right spot. She could see it, she could feel it…
She could see her legs quivering, the physical reaction overtaking the knowledge that it was happening reaching her brain. She could see Tara pause for a second, less than that, she saw that Tara realised that the orgasm she had been building was about to over boil.
She saw Tara react to that. She felt that reaction as Tara helped it to sweep over her and then to engulf them both as she pulled her legs in to hold Tara’s loving tongue and lips against her in the only way that she could.
In the aftermath of her lovers orgasm Tara gently parted the thighs that had been clasped around her face and kissed her way upwards from Willow’s pussy, up over her belly towards her breasts, but she found that it was all moving away from her. Willow’s arms were bending slowly and she was sinking, headfirst towards the floor.
Arched Willow… that was good and there was no danger of her falling and hurting herself. Tara kissed her way around the arch and found Willow, and the bedding, sliding from beneath her – and though she’d made her way up her lover, Willow’s pussy was passing beneath her.
She snatched a kiss there and wasn't sure if the movement of Willow’s legs was due to the kiss or a desire to stay up there.
Tara looked down… pussy in motion. And finally Willow reached the floor, resting there with her legs up on the edge of the bed, at a nice even forty-five degree angle. Tara could, if she just shifted a little, bend over the edge of the bed and keep kissing her there… and this time Willow’s hands were on her head…
Stopping her?
“It’s cold down here,” Willow told her. “And… my dear, sweet, love… I’m not about to let you get away from my dream.”
“I wasn't even trying,” Tara told her. She gave Willow one more intimate kiss between her sprawled legs and then helped her lover back up. “But I can see why you were watching the cheerleaders rather than being one,” she teased as Willow finally clambered back onto the bed beside her.
“Not cheerleaders,” Willow insisted. “Just one. Just the one that was you.” That was important. That was really what it was all about.
Tara smiled. Well… if Willow wanted to play… There was no uniform. No locker room. No pompoms – though she might be able to do something about that.
“Where are you going?” Willow asked as her lover left the bed and went back over to the fireplace.
Tara didn’t answer, she just tried to look graceful in her nudity as she bent down to retrieve the rest of the newspaper that she had shredded to act as kindling for the fire. She heard Willow giggle even before she’d straightened up. Maybe it was the appealing sight, maybe she realised what Tara was about to do.
She was happy, they were in love and they were going to play. What else mattered?
Willow watched as Tara straightened up. She’d been only dimly aware of what Tara was doing, other than the bending thing and just what that revealed to her. Now, as Tara turned around to face her, with her hands coyly over her breasts and groin Willow could plainly see the strips of paper cascading from her hands. Tara shook them and she giggled again.
“My lovely cheerleader?” Willow asked.
“Always yours.”
Slowly, very conscious of the limited space and the fact that she had no idea what she was doing Tara started to move her hands and with it the pompoms. She started out giving Willow glimpses of what she had seen, licked, sucked and loved so many times before. That was her routine, but she realised that even something like that was more like one of those performers that was naked but for two large feathers than anything a cheerleader would do.
So she started to spell.
Without knowing the letters. Semaphore in ignorance.
But it completely exposed her and she loved how Willow’s eyes widened when that happened.
In her own way, a way that seemed logical to her, definitely more like semaphore or the international language of mime, than cheerleading, she spelled out three little words that they both knew very well. Willow had no problem understanding them. ‘I love you.’ She did it more than once before she came over towards Willow and changed the routine. Two of the words stayed the same.
One was different.
But that statement was part of the other.
“What was that?” Willow breathed as Tara stood naked, and obviously wanting, before her.
“Can’t you tell,” Tara asked as she waved her pom-poms in Willow’s face, stroked her hair with them.
“Tell me,” Willow insisted as Tara lifted her foot and placed it on the edge of the bed beside where Willow was sat.
Just like the dream as she had described it.
“I. Want. You.” Tara spelled out once more. This time saying the words too.
Willow stroked her ankle, remembering how the dream went. She would have thought that the extra attraction in the dream came from the uniform her baby had been wearing… but no. This, naked Tara, was even better than the dream. Just so long as it was Tara.
Tara in anything would have been better, because it was real and nothing imaginary could ever match the intensity that they had here and now.
Willow’s fingers trickled around her ankles but they didn’t stay there very long, they were quickly spiralling up her legs whilst Willow’s other hand played with the outside of her standing leg. Tara’s lover’s eyes were fixed on her naked breasts though.
Willow was getting pretty much whatever she wanted. And that was what Tara wanted too. Willow had said that, in the dream, she’d played with the Cheerleader Tara through her panties.
This time there were none. Willow’s fingers eased through the hair between Tara’s legs until they had descended far enough to be where they both wanted them to be. Where the dream had taken them… but without the barrier this time.
“Isn’t this your dream?” Tara asked. She had to adapt the words… but she could see that Willow knew what she meant. Even when….
“What?” Willow asked, thrilled that a little more of her dream was coming true.
“To f-f… make love to me.”
Willow smiled. Tara had been right before. The ‘F’ word really wasn't her. It had been used, a few times at the very heights of their passion, but not now… this was a dream come true after all.
“Yes,” Willow said simply and with the lightest of touches encouraged Tara to come and straddle her. She watched her baby spread her legs and she gazed on her breasts as they came within range of her lips. As Tara came to rest upon her and they each closed an arm around the other for support, Willow took one stiff nipple into her mouth and teased it with the tip of her tongue.
She didn’t need to see Tara to know what she was going to do… even though she never tired of looking on her lover. Her free hand trailed down from between Tara’s breasts, down over her stomach into the soft hair and without any more preamble slipped inside her – finding Tara heated and damp.
She brought her fingers around until she was able to both move those two fingers inside her baby and also maintain the pressure on Tara’s swollen clit at the same time. It wouldn’t… Tara was so aroused that this wasn’t going to take too much. Not when Tara was moving against her, thrusting back at her fingers as they moved inside her, chasing them as they withdrew.
The grip that Tara had on her shifted from being around her lover’s shoulders to the back of her head, holding Willow’s lips on her breast where she obviously needed it to be. Sometimes, like now, Willow liked to set up a counterpoint between her fingers and her lips. Whichever was wherever… the other could be slightly off the ‘beat.’ She liked to either sense Tara responding to each individual passionate touch or, eventually, to hear and feel those all merge into one chorus of desire.
Almost inevitably that would be as Tara’s breathing became faster, sharper, sucking the air into her lungs to fuel the sounds that she needed to make. Like now.
It was when her movements became more, or less obvious… when the passion overwhelmed self-control and when muscles that were never seen started to do their own work.
Just like now.
Tara cried out as she clenched in delicious reflex around Willow’s fingers. The spasms shook her as her lover gave to her as she had given to her lover. She released her grip on Willow’s head as she pressed her pussy against Willow’s intimate caress and the intruding fingers that she welcomed inside her. Freed and supported only by Willow’s free hand – and her love – she leaned back, arching her back whilst the pleasure washed over her. She knew Willow would support her… now as much as any time.
And she did.
At the very end, with last fading ripples passing through her sated body, Tara threw herself forwards again and Willow fell backwards until Tara was astride her stomach and her pussy was pressing wetly against the naked Willow flesh.
“So why was it that you started going to basketball games again?” Tara asked as she recovered her breath. More cheerleaders there?
Willow, somehow, managed to flush an even deeper red.
Caught. But she only ever saw her baby there.
***********************
(To be continued)
Scis quod dicunt … id quod circumiret, circumveniat.
(You know what they say … what goes around comes around.)
. Dawn's so funny making spicey jokes, lol. It's worth it for the other's reactions. And I am way fond of the squirming, wiggling to get to the pillows. I had a real good image of what it was doing to Tara. I appreciate the creativity in showing their intimacy. 
I hope they get stuck in there for a while 
)
) Keep up the scampering, the sound of little feet brings seasonal joy to the heart of this Aussie celebrating Christmas in the summer heat.
So glad you are enjoying things (Kat is responsible for most of the good stuff). Keep reading, there is more to come . . . so to speak. 
Don't tell Katharyn, but here's a key cut in brass . . .. non magnetic you know. Use it in good health.
