Rating: G to NC-17 (dialogue being G-rated)
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all its characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Spoilers: Pretty much yes, though why anybody who hasn't seen Season 4 would be on this board is beyond me.
Feedback: Certainlyso.
Summary: What we all wanted to see in Season 4, but didn't because of homophobes and etc. I'm sure many others have done this bit too, but I wanted to take my own whack at it. I'm hoping I've been able to portray their characters and passion in a realistic, canon way.
I would also like to say that I am so grateful for the reverence that Buffy has always treated W&T with, except towards the end of course.... But overall, I thought it was so amazing how their relationship could grow and deepen, and I thought it gained a lot through that gradual process... which is why I set the beginning of their *physical* relationship so late.
Hope you like!
[center]Between Breaths[/center]
"The inward eye, the sightless sea... Ayala flows through the river in me."
The flow of the chant was disrupted as Willow fell out of the circle, out of the spell, out of the reality and into... somewhere else. Tara watched her back arch, heard her climax through the daze of the spell's ending, as the magic circle around them dissolved into the air.
"Willow, Willow." Tara leaned over the prostrate form, half-expecting the eyes to stay as they were, to find that she had pulled the two of them up and out of the other woman's mind too late, that she had left Willow behind somewhere. She had been sure she carried Willow with her.
But her eyes opened. Willow was there. They took a deep breath together, and a smile blossomed between them. Relief for Tara...
"Gosh. Seeing you smile like that makes me so happy." Willow sat up slowly, frowning. "What just happened?"
Tara withdrew a little. "I, uh... What do you remember?"
Willow's brow furrowed in an expression Tara had become very familiar with. "We did a spell, didn't we. And... Faith!" Her expression shifted rapidly from thoughtfulness to disgust. "She just can't keep her... her self to herself! And... Buffy. Oh gosh. I remember now." She sighed. "How come I ended up on the ground?"
"I, uh... I don't know," Tara said, avoiding eye contact. "So it's that girl that, uh, we were looking for before. The one with the running away?" She rose and went to her pile-o'-books. "Do you remember, that night.... With the disspelling spells? You know, the touch-tokens attuned to a certain type of magic?"
Willow made a soft noise as she approached Tara. "That night I stayed over?" she murmured. She was close behind Tara, and then her arms slipped around the other girl. "I remember." Her breath tickled Tara's neck.
Tara froze like a deer in headlights. Her arms were frozen too, suspended above one of her books; she felt ridiculous and obscene, and stupid, very stupid. Those feelings was as much as her brain could handle, being overwhelmed by a blanket of nothing. She was silent as she was still.
Willow must have sensed the disturbance she'd caused in her friend's mind, but unsure about how to interpret it, made no comforting movements. Her arms stayed around Tara's waist, though, as she tried to piece together the words to explain herself.
"I've got to tell you something. I don't know... how to say... what I feel, Tara. I... it's kind of like, every ten minutes something reminds me of you, or I think of something I want to say to you. And... and also... when I touch your hand... it's so nice. Not nice, like nice," Willow sensed her babbler start to shift in, but couldn't stop it. "Nice, like, um, fulfilling. And then I wonder what it would be like to touch you, other places, and have you touch me... And, and not like, in a bad way. All goodness of touches. Like, like this." She squeezed softly, bringing her body closer, spooning the girl in her arms.
Tara tried mightily to keep her breathing steady as her friend's body came against her. *'Not driving stick anymore...'* She relaxed her arms, but didn't know what to do with them after that; she settled them on the desk. "Me, too," she finally said, but it was a lie. She knew how she felt. Closing her eyes, she decided to risk it. "Willow, d-during the spell, I know it was Faith, or, or I guess it was B-Buffy's body, that we got c-c-caught up in, but, with your hand on mine, it kind of felt... felt like..." She didn't have a word for it.
"Appropriate," Willow murmured. She breathed deep, with a slightly confused look. "I-I mean, that's what it was like for me. When I looked at you. Like that's what we should be doing, when we touch. Feeling this way."
Tara closed her eyes again. "Yes." Her voice was sure; it sounded like a queen's, perhaps, or somebody with great power and wisdom-- at least that's how it sounded to Willow. Willow started nuzzling her softly.
Tara stopped breathing. A fire in her roared; the warmth spread from her center to all her limbs and then back, making her burn like only moments before, during the projection spell. "I have crazy thoughts, Tara," Willow whispered, her breath hot on Tara's neck. "I think... sometimes... that I could..." Willow kissed her jaw right below the earlobe, softly, questioningly.
Tara lost any coherency of thought she had possessed before. Breathing, yes, quickly, when the opportunity presented. Moving, yes, good. Lips together and apart, gasping, fingers exploring in a fever, in delirium, and skin, arms and hands and excellent stomachs soft together, and a need, desire that ran swift, thrumming through both their bodies, skipping between them, snapping with energy. Willow fell to the floor, breaking away from Tara's lips and grasping her ankles, running her fingers up the backs of Tara's legs, taking her skirt up to her hips. Tara stumbled, desire throbbing, as Willow buried her face in Tara's stomach, her hands clutching her backside, rubbing her.
She moaned, "Willow," and took her love's face in her hands and pulled her upright again, away from the stomach that Willow seemed to believe required only nuzzling pressure. They ate one another's faces, happy for the opportunity, but Tara had a vague plan now, and lost no time implementing it, sliding her foot between Willow's, and catching the hem of Willow's skirt. She pulled the skirt up to Willow's knees, relishing the way her action started the other girl's body shuddering, then quickly dipped her own body and caught the skirt with her legs, slipping a thigh between Willow's. Willow's arms slid up to Tara's back as her knees gave out.
Tara slipped her arms under Willow's, her leg in deeper, closer, and held her upright. Willow responded spectacularly to the bait, thrusting forward, and finally felt her underwear, and the throbbing beneath, touch Tara's body. They moaned at the same time, and Tara disengaged, guiding her backwards until her bottom touched something solid, a ledge-- the head of Tara's bed. Satisfied that Willow would not be collapsing so easily now, Tara embraced Willow's thigh with her own two, and Willow cried out softly, as if in pain. She was hot and moist against Tara's thigh, the liquid seeping through her underwear and tasting Tara's skin. Tara ground her hips against Willow's, touching her thigh tentatively with her own desire, and Willow caught on and began rocking into her, drawing her in, in hunger that didn't sate, only grew with each motion, compounding, building, grinding in long, hungry strokes... "Don't let go," Willow cried, and Tara, weakening, collapsing into the power of Willow, held her close and kissed her softly, offering her breasts and her tongue and her passion, finally, in hungry motion and panting, standing for both of them, loving Willlow as she threw her head back and screamed her climax, following her a moment later, in slow motion now, melting to the ground, legs locked and contractions and moaning and finally, still silence.
Willow, on top now, made an incoherent sound. Tara rolled so that they lay on their sides and sighed. *That* was how she felt.
Willow's hair obscured her face, so she brushed it away and saw that there were tears in Willow's eyes. Suddenly the unity of a moment ago shattered; Tara searched herself for a reason, sure that the redhead had returned the passion, had cried and thrust with an abandon no less than hers. Tears were not for a moment like this. Or were they?
"What is it?" Tara whispered.
Willow shook her head. "I don't know. That's just... just so nice." She slid closer to Tara. "Wow. I mean, I never... thought it could happen like that." She smiled and caressed her lover's face.
Tara moaned. "My god... you're like... a magnet. A lovely magnet." Willow smiled again and moved in to kiss her. Tara pushed away a little, and Willow, feeling it, backed way off and looked worried again. Tara returned the look.
"Are you sure, that, that this is how you've... felt, for a while, not just for right now?" She held Willow's eyes in her gaze, needing a confirmation, expecting something else.
Willow's eyes dropped. "Well, yeah. Why? What about you?"
Tara sighed, hating to say it. "It could be... just transference. I mean, that's the most likely explanation, isn't it? We've never done anything like this before." Her voice trailed off as they locked eyes again.
Willow took Tara's hand, which had been pressed between them. Her voice was light. "Definitely no. No transference here! I mean, just because we didn't do it, doesn't mean we weren't thinking it. Right?"
Tara tightened her lips and shook her head. "Y-You're straight, Willow. You told me about Oz, and Xander..."
"The soul knows no gender," Willow whispered. She remembered that time, a few weeks ago, when she'd stayed with Tara the whole night. One spell had left them both weak and shaking, freezing, and Tara had taken Willow in her arms and laid her on the bed, pulling covers over them both. In Tara's warmth Willow had drifted asleep, and awoke the next day with the strangest feeling, of comfort and wholeness, a feeling she hadn't had since Oz left... hadn't had to that degree, ever. Looking at Tara's sleeping face, she realized she didn't need Oz anymore. She would rather be needed, and need in return, in this softness and comfort, than act as a leech in some parody of a relationship-- a relationship in which one member could up and leave, and the other was expected to just... wait. Willow would not wait anymore.
"No," Tara replied. This time, their skin together did the kissing, and then it was Willow's skin kissing Tara's lips, and then naked Willow legs and white bottom and wordless, passionate supplication to a woman who took sweet time, sliding clothes slowly off, and then a sudden moment of self-conscious modesty that brought the dark covers over them both, at first cool and smooth, bringing Tara in, ending the toying and beginning everything else, soft thin fingers plunging and caressing, a little tentative, a little rough, a little bit of what would happen every day, desperately, in each silent empty corner they could find. Between classes and between breaths they found each other and claimed what they found, writing their names in thick fluid on every inch, desperate to make up for lost time, to take what they had while they had it.
They talked when they could, about spells or classes or people. "Buffy's spending a lot of time with Riley," Willow once whispered, directly after a particularly passionate go; Tara smiled as she asked if that was what she was thinking about. Often they talked about how mysterious it was that they had been so close, both feeling the same, and yet so tentative that nothing came through. Willow thought it was hilarious how Faith had understood their connection better than they had, and at first glance, too. She concluded that Faith knew her stuff, and that the pair of them were admirably blind when it came to... "it."
"It" was the closest either got to saying "love," though. As if making love was a smooth transition from making magic- both private and together, both a secret- they continued with their outer worlds, while being consumed from the inside with this crazy, blind passion. "Committment" was also taboo. Tara wondered again and again whether the lack of discussion meant it was implied, or not; she had expressed her own committment even before they became lovers, but the closest she got from Willow was an occasional affectionate name.
This went on through the Jonathan phase a week later, with no slight pause. The first social event they chose to attend, deferring sex, was a pretty little disaster all around, when it came to it; though it did get Willow talking.
"You know," she said as they walked to Tara's dorm room, "Sometimes I feel like... like that, too. It's strange, because I was sitting on Oz's lap, no problem, you know? But with you... I gotta say, I'm just kind of... pretty much afraid. I guess... of what the hypothetical 'they' might say. So it was... scary even to touch you." She paused, stealing a glance.
Tara looked at her seriously. "You know, what I said, I've never felt that. 'Dirty' is nothing even close to what it feels. It was the house speaking, not me."
Willow's lip twisted. "Well..." she said, and stopped walking. The crickets chirped. They were near Tara's dorm. "Sometimes I... kind of do. Because.. I guess because of everyone else. And... I never thought... I mean, I had feelings... But I mostly just ignored them, buried them. And Oz came along, and he was so perfect when it came to it, to having a boyfriend, and that's what's expected, you know? And I loved him a lot. He was so sweet."
"Yeah." They started walking, and after a while Tara looked up at Willow. "It's not bad, Willow. For a long time I thought it was bad too, but it's just... just that a lot of people don't like it, or don't respect it. But that's their problem. Not ours."
They reached Tara's room, a singles suite. Willow paused at the door and smiled, thoughtfulness done. "Right. Not ours." Tara ducked her head and went in first, and Willow's hand found the door to slam it blindly behind them, already lost in her lover.
Then, disaster. Oz's return. Confusion.
"Do what makes you ha-happy," Tara breathed, struggling at the last. And then they were together again, bodies melding, fingers caressing. They broke apart to find one another's lips, doing what they knew so well, Willow moaning already through her tears. She clung tightly with her arms, but her legs were weak and her kisses, passionate but supplicant. Tara came to her, they rolled on the bed, and then they found the rhythm and were off, not stopping for one another, surging on again and again, climaxes exploding onto each other. Finally, Tara slid her hand into Willow and the familiarity of that touch brought Willow back down. Though the motion did not stop, she breathed words. "Take something of mine. So I'll be with you. I need... I need to be with you." This trailed off into incoherency, but that was the final time. Tara brought Willow up, all the way up, and then sinking down again, into a deep drowsiness.
"Class," Tara whispered. Willow shook her head, eyes closed. Tara propped herself up and looked at Willow. "Come on, get up. Jefferson Hall is 5 minutes away. You're almost late."
Willow shook her head again and rolled into Tara, bearing her down into the mattress. She straddled her hips, leaning forward to suck on Tara's neck, then flattening her body against her girl's, reaching for Tara's breasts. Tara flipped over, bearing Willow backwards and allowing access. For a few moments they rubbed their bodies together, loving the friction and motion; Willow slid her leg between Tara's, and Tara rode it. Then she turned her body so that she faced Willow and pulled off the sweater, to Willow's delight.
Tara got up and out of the bed, leaving a soft kiss on Willow's lips. Willow complained wordlessly but vocally, feeling cheated and teased, reaching toward her lover, wanting the thoughtless ecasty of her touch. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that this was the game they played, that one of the two of them would always back away when it was time, that the other always begged but they were meaningless words. She sat up and shivered.
'*Oz,*' she remembered. She watched her lover sit down at the desk, pulling out a textbook and staring at it, her sweater in a ball on her lap. Standing up, she thought to approach her, and then sighed and moved to the door, picking her books up and going to Jefferson Hall.
Tara couldn't concentrate on the reading, but didn't try too hard-- she was already a few chapters ahead of the assigned reading. An hour and a half after Willow left, she stood and stretched, feeling a dead weight on her chest and trying to shake it off. She sighed and pulled at Willow's sweater in her hands, finally pulling it on, over her arms and shoulders, closing her eyes and feeling the Willow-cloth envelop her. She picked up her books and made her way out of the room, remembering that Willow's "class," a study session really, was over now, realizing that Willow was not coming back to her. She held her books closer to her chest.
Last edited by synthwrr on Thu Aug 21, 2008 6:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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