AUTHOR: Dumbsaint
DISCLAIMER: Willow and Tara belong to Joss, but more importantly, to each other.
RATING: R for sexual content
PAIRING: Willow and Tara
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just please let me know if you archive it somewhere.
FEEDBACK: Is always appreciated. Graashoppa@aol.com
PROPS: Thanks as always to Ruth for her editorial finesse.
SPOILERS: Season four, up through episode 16, “Who Are You.”
SUMMARY: In the aftermath of the spell that takes her to the Nether Realm, Willow finds exactly what she has been looking for.
“Yours,” by Dumbsaint
Heaving a gasping breath that was more of a sob, Willow reeled back downwards into her body. Magickal energies still pulsed their way through her veins, pleasure careening through her in a riot of sensation that left her trembling, her skin flushed and unfathomably sensitive to every touch. Hands stroked her face, soft fingertips retracing again and again the same tender paths across her cheek, her brow. Awareness flooded her mind, the knowledge that she had found what she had been looking for. She had seen that her best friend’s body had been hijacked by the rogue slayer. She had touched realms of existence so powerfully different than her own dimension that her mortal mind could only process the new information as pure pleasure. And finally, she knew that the lap she rested in, the hands so delicately caressing her face belonged to Tara. Her Tara. Yours, she had said only this morning. I am, you know… Yours.
Her body coiled tight with need, breath still heaving in shallow pants, Willow opened her eyes to find the blonde’s face hovering above hers, concern written in the crease of her forehead, fond affection in the curve of her mouth, one side sloping upwards in a relieved grin. Her thumb brushed against Willow’s lips just as the redhead’s eyes fluttered open, the girl’s back arching at the simple contact, a moan escaping her lips.
Seeing Willow in such a state had been having a powerful effect on Tara. Only the knowledge of how dangerous it would be for Willow if her own attention were to wander while she was acting as the girl’s anchor on the physical plane kept the blonde from losing herself completely in the thrall of the wild beauty that trembled before her. Really, the reading she had done on astral travel to the Nether Realm hadn’t quite prepared her for seeing the girl who was quickly coming to mean everything to her, head thrown back, gasping in orgasmic bliss. The danger now past, it was only through the exercise of every ounce of will power Tara possessed that she didn’t simply descend on the girl, hungry-mouthed, insistent-handed, aching as she did to taste the sweetness she had just been witness to.
They hadn’t yet ventured quite that far in what had begun as late night make-out sessions and blossomed somewhere along the way into finding their way into each other’s arms whenever the opportunity presented itself. Willow would come by in between classes when she knew Tara would be in her room, sometimes even if she could stay only a few minutes. Together they stole time and kisses, making way for the momentary crashing of their mouths against one other, leaving each other increasingly breathless, giddy. They were like teenagers discovering kissing for the first time, carried away in the excitement of exploring each touch, every caress.
Reining in her own desire with fierce self-control, Tara bent low to kiss Willow’s forehead, meaning only to lovingly reassure the girl that she was safe, that she had returned from where she had been, whatever she had seen, unharmed. But the moment her lips brushed the witch’s heated skin, Willow whimpered for her, hands reaching for her at once, guiding her downwards. The redhead gently slid off her lap, pulling Tara down on top of her, arching up into the blonde in raw need.
“Please,” Willow panted, her hands grasping at Tara’s clothing, grabbing a fistful of the gauzy material of her shirt and pressing into her tummy. “Oh, God, Tara- please. I need-”
Willow didn’t finish the sentence, merely pulled Tara down into a kiss that bespoke pure desire, hungry, aching, raw.
Tara swallowed thickly, her brain nattering on insistently at her, trying to explain that it might be too soon, that she could be taking advantage of the situation. But then Willow was pulling one of the blonde’s hands under her own shirt, and when Tara pressed her palm to the hot softness of Willow’s belly the girl reacted with a jolt, as though seared by a fiery brand. She writhed under the blonde’s touch, pressing up into her, one arm wrapped around Tara’s neck, pulling her face closer to kiss her again. Their lips met in a heated frenzy, tongues dancing against each other, effectively shutting up the nagging voice inside Tara’s head. Suddenly there was no time left to wonder if this was happening too soon. Their mouths trailed hotly, nipping at each other, and Tara’s hand was traveling slowly but steadily lower along Willow’s belly, past the hastily unbuttoned seam of the redhead’s jeans, pausing to idly trace the waistband of the panties she encountered before she continued the slide of her fingers downward into heat and wetness.
There was no teasing, no games, only the gently insistent motion of Tara’s hand as she pressed into Willow’s liquid center, two fingers slowly building a rhythm as she explored soft folds, pressing deeper with each downstroke of her hand.
Willow clung to her, hands working their way under Tara’s shirt to caress her back. There had been no time for the shedding of clothing, either, Willow’s need too intense, too immediate to allow for anything as practical as the removal of the cloth barriers between them. These were only impatiently tugged aside. Moving to kiss the redhead’s throat and shoulder, Tara kissed and nipped her way across tender flesh, Willow’s soft mewls of pleasure proof positive that this was exactly what she needed. The blonde could feel her lover’s heart pounding in her chest, crashing against the ribcage that bound it as though it did so with the intent to burst through. Pressing her own center rhythmically into Willow’s thigh, Tara could almost hear the rush of blood in the redhead’s veins as they rocked against each other. The feel of the girl’s molten center grasping at her searching fingers, holding them tight sent Tara’s mind reeling with awed desire.
Finding her way back to Willow’s lips, Tara kissed her hungrily, her passion for the redhead taking hold of her, making her movements against Willow more fierce, claiming the girl’s need and meeting it with the thrust of her fingers, the curling of her thumb as she stroked Will’s clit with firm command.
Feeling the body beneath her tensing, Tara opened her eyes, taking in the full effect of the redhead’s flushed skin, her eyes closed, mouth fallen open as she shuddered, each breath forced with the heaving of her chest, the rocking motion of her body against Tara’s, and then she was there, gasping breathlessly and pulling Tara down to her one last time. Screaming soundlessly, lips trembling against the blonde’s skin as she came, Willow gave herself so completely, so sweetly that Tara’s throat ached with the intimacy of the moment. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through the girl below her, the muscles of her belly contracting, pulling Tara more deeply into her. Willow finally cried out, sobbing.
“Yours,” she breathed. “I’m yours.”
There was one final, breathless crash of Willow’s body upwards, her internal muscles still grasping at Tara’s fingers as the blonde rode out her lover’s rocking motion, and then the redhead went still, the breath slowly returning to her body as she gazed into the eyes of the woman she loved.
“Yours,” she repeated softly, tracing the fullness of Tara’s lower lip with one fingertip. There were tears in her eyes as she said it, the intensity of what she was feeling singing through her veins in sweet pulses of heat. Somewhere between the gentle press of Tara’s lips against her trailing fingers and the hand that came up to cup her own face, those tears broke loose.
She wasn’t sure why she cried. She was aware only of having found in Tara something so precious that the very dearness of it made her ache, as if love itself was carving into the depths of her that she might hold yet more feeling. All the while Tara’s hands and lips soothed her with the same boundless tenderness, even still anchoring her to this place, to the soft glow of candlelight about the room, the plush roughness of the rug they lay upon, keeping her safe, giving Willow back to herself.
As suddenly as they had come, her tears receded, a measure of strength drawn from the closeness of the woman who held her. In that moment, calm pooling in the depths of herself, drowning out her nameless fears, Willow felt herself grow fiercely protective of what she had with Tara, of the tiny space they occupied together in each other’s arms that seemed to stretch on as endless and unhurried as the nighttime sky. The hands that caressed her skin, the lips that traced the paths of her tears, tasting her salt, the soft blue of Tara’s eyes intensified here and now to the deepest cobalt. Her gentleness, kindness- the strength that lay sleeping behind them, all hers.
The fullness of Tara’s mouth brushed her ear in a lingering kiss, breath light on her skin as the blonde pulled away just enough to meet her gaze, their faces hovering as near to one another as possible without touching.
“I love you, Willow.” Tara’s voice came low, soft but sure, having lost its hesitancy, no trace of her stutter in evidence as she declared the will of her heart. Even still, Willow could feel the pull of shyness on Tara’s heart like gravity, the urge to lower her eyes, let her hair fall into her face, obscuring the vulnerability in her open gaze, all that it revealed in her. She could feel the firm resistance on Tara’s part, denying the need to protect herself from the world around her, refusing because it would mean denying Willow. The firm set of the blonde’s jaw as she grappled inwardly played in counterpoint to the undertone of a wet glimmer in the girl’s blue eyes, strength and vulnerability warring in the shadows and contours of Tara’s sweet face. And even beyond what she could read there, Willow felt it all as though it were her own, marveling at the gentle flow of emotion as she realized that Tara had opened herself to her completely, indeed somehow letting her test the waters of what the blonde felt for herself. Her empathy, Willow realized. Tara had shown that she could feel what others felt at times, and now- now she was offering the contents of her own heart to Willow, holding it out in offering with the carefully controlled, tentative hope of a little girl asking to be loved in return.
“I do,” Willow breathed, green eyes gone wide with surprise as she regarded the blonde, letting the weight and texture of Tara’s love and hope and fear wash over her. “Oh, Tara- I do love you. Almost more than I know what to do with.” Tracing the lines of Tara’s face with her thumb, Willow curled the fingers of her hand against the girl’s cheek, caressing her skin softly. “I never knew that I could,” she hesitated, not so much unsure as merely in amazement as she sought to stumble across the right words to explain, “feel this way for…”
“For a girl?” Tara offered, tentative once more.
Willow’s mouth curved upward in a wide smile, her green eyes pools of warm regard. “For anyone,” she corrected quietly, her grin widening even still.
In the slow, lazy heat of the kisses that followed, lingering caresses replaced the frantic pace of their earlier lovemaking. Hands explored more thoroughly, searching out every sensitivity, every nuance of touching and being touched in return. Kisses grew unhurried, eternities unto themselves stretching on boundless, breathless. Sometimes given voice, sometimes not, each time they came crashing down into one another, entangled in all the places where it became increasingly impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, the words pulsed through both minds, both bodies, their rhythm alive in each movement, in every touch.
Yours, I’m yours. Yours.
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Shiver me timberless.