I hear her say as she closes the door quietly behind us. Choosing not to turn on the light, because the dorm room seemed to be bathed in a strange blueness emanated from the moonlight outside, illuminating the darkness within. I kept my back turned away from her. I can't� I can't turn and face her.
Willow wraps her arms lovingly around my own. Which are, as always, wrapped tightly together on my chest. A habit I picked up a long time ago. As if crossing them against my body would protect me from all the horrors in my life. It never did, and I seem unable, or unwilling, to break the habit� even now. I can feel her nuzzle into the nape of my neck. Hear her deeply breathe in my sent. She told me once, soon after we had moved beyond friendship into loving one another, that I had the most intoxicating smell. She told me she never seemed unable to get enough of it, enough of breathing me in, touching me, of tasting me. I had turned away from her then, and blushed, as I so often did. I do that less now. I think finally being loved, and believing it, has made me feel less� well, less insecure. Like maybe I do deserve all the wonderful incredible things she says to me while we're making love, or when we're just holding each other in bed late at night.
"I love you."
She whispers softly caressing against my ear and I feel soft tender kisses and her oh so talented tongue dart out and taste me. I sigh and finally relax into her embrace. She continues to place soft sweet kisses along my ear, down my neck and back up again.
I don't know what's wrong with me these days. I mean I have everything I ever dreamed of. I have someone who loves me. What looks like a real place in this messed up confusing world, and some of the issues that had plagued me throughout my youth have been dealt with. But sometimes� sometimes I just get so scared.
Like I'm not supposed to be this happy. Like if I close my eyes even for a second something bad will happen and this house of cards I've built up my entire life will come crashing down around me. Burning me in nothingness.
Willow can always tell. She always knows when I'm feeling insecure, afraid. She never needs to ask why, or to try and reassure me that everything will be okay. In a way, she understands better than anyone. Living on the Hellmouth her whole life, being involved with the Scoobies, you learn to live with the reality that your entire life could change at the drop of a hat. You live with it, and you live. That's all you can do.
So she understands and she doesn't say a word as she slowly moves around my body, hands slipping gently across my stomach, to finally face me.
She has that smile on her face. The one that always makes me want to cry because it's beautiful and happy, and it's all for me. I can feel my forehead starting to scrunch into a frown, but she reaches up to smooth it all away.
Smooth everything away.
It's so quiet in our dorm room� our room! Yes, you couldn't believe how I felt when she asked me to move in with her. I think I cried for hours like some pathetic child. And after I had finally calmed down, lying in her lap, her small strong hands playing with my hair, she had asked, "so does that mean yes?"
And the grin.
She tells me a thousand things with that smile and with her touches� like now, as her hand glides gently down my face. Fingers entwining in my hair as her thumb caresses my cheek.
Our lips touch, just once, before she pulls back and stares at me. I can feel her other hand on my hip as it begins to travel up under my shirt. She quirks her head to the side a bit, as if contemplating something, than I feel her hand abruptly change direction as it starts to head back down to my hip. And settles there once again.
My questioning gaze is washed away when she leans into me. Her hand on my face lifting it up as her lips come down to kiss me gently at the hollow of my neck.
She says it in a way that makes it sound like I'm meant to be worshipped. Held in reverence. And I sigh again and work my hands onto her shoulders, than downward, caressing her back.
I want her to touch me more, kiss me harder, but she keeps it light, teasing. I think she likes to keep me on the edge. Something I learned about her as our relationship had progressed. Her slightly 'kinky' side. Although she hasn't really asked me to do anything kinkyish. I grin remembering a conversation we had about fantasies. It was one of those conversations you have when you know the relationship is sold and you can handle what the other person just might be fantasizing about doing� to you. Needless to say, I got quite a dose of Willowkink during that conversation.
I'm suddenly distracted from my musings as her lips travel a straight, incredibly slow, pace down the front of my body. When she gets to my stomach she finally stops. Her hands nimbly grabbing the edges of my peasant top, one she gave me for my birthday, and lifting it swiftly up and over my head. Tossing it onto the chair in the corner.
Steadying herself with both hands on my hips, she sinks to the floor onto her knees. Her hands gravitate around my body, locking behind me, pulling me into her embrace. She holds me like that for what seems like forever. Or do I want it to be forever? Arms wrapped around my body, her cheek pressed up against my bare stomach. I can tell her eyes are closed and I run my hands through the red hair I so love to play with and just stare at her� down there� on the floor.
I enjoy these simplest of loving moments. But I know it will not last� not the loving, but the moment. I mean her. She can never NOT just hold me without doing more. Not unless she's very tired or in a crowd. And even being in a crowd, or with the Scoobies at the Magic Box, doesn't always stop her from touching me. From touching me intimately in ways I never thought anyone would ever touch me.
No, she seems to never get enough of me.
That thought always makes me want to cry. I always cry it seems. I'm pathetic. Again she senses my self-deprecation almost instantly even though no words have been spoken and tells me�
One simple word is all I need from her and I begin to caress her hair again, not realizing I had stopped in the first place.
She starts again, slow, a delicate kiss on my stomach than she turns her eyes up towards mine. I know she can read everything in my heart through my eyes.
'Your eyes are your soul. That's why you always hide them behind your hair.'
She said that to me once, grinning, using that playful little baby voice she sometimes does. And I smiled at her knowing she's being ridiculous and just trying to comfort me. But maybe, in a sense, she's right, and I stare intensely down at her trying to let her know� feel, how much I love her. Want her. Need her.
I try to bend down to kiss her, to join her on the floor but she tells me "No," so I remain standing.
I think her friends would probably be surprised at how good she is at this. At this making love. Making love to a woman. Because she is, very good at it. Her eyes languish away from my own as she draws back slightly, her hands coming up to the clasp of my jeans as she undoes the first button.
And I think they might also be surprised that I'm not all soft and sweet and tender all the time either. That sometimes, before Willow can even realize what is happening, I'll back her up against the wall of our room. Hands roughly kneading at her flesh, not even talking the time to enjoy her small sensitive breasts as I always do, just delving straight between her legs bringing her to an searing orgasm quicker than she ever knew she could.
Yes, sometimes I'm not so shy and sweet.
I can feel the second button loosened from its hole� and the third and finally the fourth. She peels back each side exposing my lower abdomen and the faintest hint of my plain white undies underneath.
She inhales deeply.
And I think something snaps in her, because the kisses start again and they're no longer sweet and delicate. They're rougher, full. Her mouth opens to suck on the flesh above my panties. Her hot slick tongue working it's way in and out of my navel.
My eyes close.
Everything eases away as I'm holding her.
My hands leave her shoulders where I had been steadying myself and travel directly to the edge of my pants. I want them off.
But she stops me. Hands grasping tightly onto my own as she turns up to look at me once again. That mischievous little grin she has that makes me giggle lovingly.
"No you don't." She says playfully as she puts my hands back on her shoulders.
Still watching me, she runs her fingers along the waist line of my pants, just on the inside. Touching me just enough to drive me insane, like her touches always do, but not enough for me to be satisfied that she's going to do what I want her to do.
Remove my pants.
When she reaches the back, she turns just the smallest bit down and than works her hands back to the front pulling my jeans down just the slightest. I frown slightly and pout down at her and she quickly silences my bourgeoning sour attitude by placing a kiss right below my last pant button. I grown in anticipation of what she has in store for me, but I also know the satisfaction will not come quickly.
No pun intended.
Like I said, sometimes Willow likes to keep me on the edge. For a long time� a really long time. The first time she did it, I nearly killed her. Well, not really, but� ya know. When she had finally released the orgasm that had built up with such intensity, and after I had remembered how to breathe� and speak, the first worlds out of my mouth were;
'How could you do that to me?'
I had been so accusatory. I think it had hurt her more than she had let on at the time. She had the saddest puppy dog look on her face for much of that night. A look I NEVER wanted to see again. We had talked for hours afterwards. I had finally been able to coax her into my arms and we drifted into sleep cuddled together. Our conversation about fantasies had started that night.
We talked a lot about such things these days. I get the feeling that one day, real soon, I'm going to be tied up to the bed and blindfolded. Somehow that thought, and Willow's fingers working their way into the opening in my jeans, turns me on incredibly and I moan my approval of both.
Her hands graze across my flesh stopping at my hips. She turns her fingers downward on the inside of my jeans and starts to slowly work my pants down. Fingers touching just enough of the outside of my thighs to make my body start tingling.
First one foot, than the other, I step out of my jeans and Willow tosses them in the general direction of my shirt. Urging my legs open just slightly, she runs her hands up the backs of my calves. Feeling my skin as she works her hands higher up my body stopping to tease a spot just above my left knee that she knows is particularly sensitive.
I think she knows my body better than I do. She's spent more time touching it, caressing it, learning it than I thought possible. She knows exactly how to touch me and when� where. Her hands begin their ascent only stopping again once she has reached right below my butt. She seems content to just rub her hands up and down the backs of my legs for a while, all the time I can feel her hot breath starting to caress across my body. Instinctively, I open my legs just a little bit wider.
She takes her time, the heat from her hands penetrating upward through my body before she moves her hands to the front of my thighs. Continuing to caress.
She tells me over and over how amazingly silky my skin is. Like it's the most incredible sensation just to touch me. Willow says just touching me is enough sometimes. Like when we're at the Magic Box and I walk by her to put a book back on the shelf. She'll reach out, and run her hand down my arm and through my fingers. She says that's enough sometimes, for the moment, to satisfy her. But other times, other times she says it sends her over the edge. When she touches me, touches my skin, she says it turns her on more than she ever thought simply touching someone ever would. You can always tell the difference. Well I can at least. Between when it's enough, and not. When she gets lost in the desire, that lust, her eyes close slightly and become a shade of green that I never thought existed.
And that's usually when she'll jump up from her chair abruptly, grab my hand and tell everyone we have to 'go somewhere.' We usually end up back at her dorm room, satiating those desires.
Her hands travel to the inside of my thighs, underneath me and to my behind, which she starts to caress. It's a slightly awkward position and I feel as if I might topple over at any moment, but she's so strong for someone so petite and holds me firmly, pulling my legs open even further. My eyes are closed, so the next sensation that rips through my body takes me completely by surprise.
I suddenly feel her tongue touch me through my panties. It starts low, between my legs as she licks slowly upward. Pressing down hard when she reaches the top, near my clit.
"Oh God Willow." Digging my fingers into her shoulders, I try to hang on.
Her tongue continues upward and I frantically try to push her back downwards, but she's not having any of that. I can hear her muffled giggle as she kisses me right above my panties.
No, Willow is in control� this time.
And like she's been planning the maneuver the whole time, she grabs the top of my panties from behind and swiftly yanks them down. But not off. And I feel slightly 'tied-up' as I'm restricted from moving as they settle on the floor around my ankles.
I groan. Goddess she's such a tease sometimes.
"Tara?" She says more insistently and I can feel her hot breath between my legs. Can sense how close she is to touching me there, and my eyes snap open.
I look at her and plead.
"Promise me," her tongue licks across my stomach, "no more doubts."
And I just kind of nod not really comprehending what she's saying because her breath is so hot against my skin and her hands are dancing across my flesh. A finger tracing tiny figure eights on the inside of one of my thighs.
Than, with that mischievous glint in her eye, she asks me what I want.
"Tell me Tara. Tell me what you want?"
"Please Willow." I beg hoping it's enough. But the look on her face tells me it isn't. She wants something more.
Now, I don't usually swear, or am this crude, but sometimes� well sometimes it's just necessary.
"Fuck me Willow. I need you�" I start to stumble on the emotion built up inside me. "I ne�"
Before the word even leaves my lips, I feel her swiftly insert two fingers deep inside of me.
My hands are grabbing anywhere, as she's suddenly no longer tender and teasing. She's everywhere. Lips, tongue, teeth� devouring me in hunger as her fingers pump in and out of me.
Her tongue slips into me as well keeping an erratic rhythm with her fingers.
My head starts to spin and I'm no longer thinking I don't deserve this, I'm not worthy of this� touching.
And I know I'm moaning, and probably grunting as well because Willow turns all her attention to that little screaming bundle of nerves. Sucking at first. Than biting, her tongue torturing me, before finally giving into her own need� and simply sucking.
And as the orgasm rips through me all I can do is scream.
Because in that instant of utter joy and release, that's all that matters to me. She's all that matters.
I'm not sure how, but she gently eases me down onto the floor with her. And we're on our knees together. Breathing hard, sweaty, satisfied.
And we simply stay there, clenched together, her head on my shoulder and mine on hers.