Compassion

by FaithC

Copyright © 2003

faithcorvid@yahoo.com

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Written and read for enjoyment not for money.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Please email me first.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Spoilers: Through Season 6.
Author's Note: This started out as a very sweet, very PG story, but a friend's response to that was "Why?" OK, so now it's a kinda dark NC-17 story.
Pairing: Buffy/Tara

"To forgive is an act of compassion ... It's not done because people deserve it, it's done because they need it." -Rupert Giles, I Only Have Eyes For You

"Don't forgive me, Tara. Please don't." She met Tara's eyes again and the deep compassion within them, understanding and love and forgiveness the color of an April sky was too much and she fell forward into Tara's lap, blinded suddenly by her own tears.

Buffy Summers was the Vampire Slayer. She had come back from the dead twice, held back hell itself from destroying her world, protected the living and buried the dead, killed demons and faced down gods. It was the weight of her own self-disgust, the insurmountable anguish that came with the realization that she no longer knew who she was that broke her at the last, and tonight she clung to Tara like a child afraid of the dark.

Tara watched, almost as if from a great distance, her own hand, shaking slightly for Buffy had startled her, moving towards her, felt the shining silk beneath her fingers as she tried to smooth aside the curtains of hair Buffy was using to hide her face. Tara knew that feeling too well, the pain and shame that can be hidden from cruel eyes and mocking smiles and disgusted frowns with a frightened little girl's very last, and so inadequate defense – her own golden hair. She wanted Buffy to look at the world and realize that it hadn't ended, but she pulled her face away with a violence that frightened Tara a little, reminding her that the helpless-looking creature in her lap, thin shoulders shaking with every breath, was still the Slayer. She'd seen with her own eyes the tiny hands twisted into the fabric of her skirt tear the heads off of demons and reduce vampires to dust, and years of living under the Maclay roof had taught Tara to fear physical power. So she simply stroked her from the crown of her head down to her neck in a gesture that had comforted Dawn, and Willow too, many times.

She realized suddenly, and not without a strange kind of sorrow, that she had never once seen Buffy cry. Not even the day of Joyce's funeral, not even the night she recalled to them her memories of heaven. Tara realized she had come to think of Buffy as one of those steel-spun women who were beyond tears. Her mother had been one. And she wanted to tell Buffy that the ancients believed that only creatures with souls could cry: she had a soul, then, and she was, still and always, Buffy. Vampire Slayer, sister, daughter, friend, lover, beloved. She wanted to tell her that tears cleanse and purify the body from the poisons of grief, and that Tara had long suspected her mother's refusal to cry had killed her in the end. She wanted to tell Buffy a lot of things suddenly, for in that moment she felt a kinship with the Slayer that surpassed the family status that had long been assumed between them. And maybe someday she would. But for now, Tara simply stroked gently the Vampire Slayer's hair, whispering words of love and comfort.

Buffy, who had been so numb for so long, had forgotten how much crying hurt. And that you have to stop crying eventually and that hurt even more. She felt her breathing becoming less harsh and ragged as her spirit tired out and the instinctual breath control that came from years of physical training took over her body. She turned her head a bit and the damp cloth beneath her cheek made her feel ashamed.

Tara heard her mumble something and leaned down further. "What is it sweetie?" she asked gently and attempted to brush Buffy's tumbled hair away from her mouth. This time Buffy allowed it, even moving towards the comfort of Tara's hand, gentle and warm. It was so different, so much more real, than the comfort she'd been seeking from Spike's hands, strong and cold.

"I got your dress all wet."

Tara's drawn features broke into an understanding smile and she felt relief fill her as she realized Buffy was coming back out of the darkest place. "It's wash and wear, darling, don't worry about it." She paused for a moment looking down into Buffy's sad, beautiful face in profile, her head still resting heavily on her lap. "I guess that means I can wash it and wear it at the same time." Her attempt at humor was rewarded with a quick smile, although Buffy kept her eyes closed and her head down.

Buffy sighed, almost with contentment, knowing she would have to get up soon, have to let Tara leave the house, have to go to bed, get up in the morning, face this thing with Spike. She didn't want to do any of it. But mostly, right now, she simply wanted to stay in this warm darkness in her head. She remembered when Dawnie was very little she used to close her eyes when she was hiding from Buffy, as if because she couldn't see Buffy then Buffy couldn't see her. She felt something like that now – that time would stop here on Tara's lap and the rest of the world wouldn't ever come back if she just kept her eyes closed and felt nothing but the soothing, rhythmic motion of Tara's hands on her hair.

"What are you thinking, Buffy? I think that was almost a real smile."

Buffy knew that was her cue to lift her head, but she wanted to wait just a little longer so she replied truthfully, "I was thinking about Dawnie and I when she was really small. Mom said once that for the world's sake she was glad it was me and not Dawn that was born the Vampire Slayer." Flooded with the memory of her mother, and happier times, Buffy swallowed hard and felt a few more tears slide out from beneath her closed lids. She sighed and began to lift her head and was surprised and warmed when Tara very, very gently held her down.

"It's all right darling," she said. "You – I can s-s-stay just a little longer."

Buffy opened her eyes and stared up into Tara's face. She was startled by what she saw. The warm light from the lamp was shining through Tara's long fair hair, almost making it look as if it were burning from within and with some unearthly light. The curves of her face were set in strong, beautiful lines of compassion and the blue eyes she looked into were as deep and as loving as eternity. In that moment as she sought the Tara she knew, or thought she knew, in the depths of that eternity she had the sudden, complete experience of heaven again, too physical, too real to be one of the memories that were fading bit by bit every day. She blinked and the hallucination was gone. But Tara remained and she was still beautiful. Buffy'd never paid much attention to Tara, but staring up at her now she saw what Willow always had. What Giles and Anya and even Spike had recognized from the beginning.

"Tara," she whispered and now she did lift her head from Tara's lap, but not to move away. She left her hands on Tara's hips and moved forward, arching her back and neck in the quick, precise movements of the predator the Vampire Slayer so essentially was.

Tara recognized the movement a split second too late to react, like a bird sensing the shadow of a cat in the last moment before it is too late to take flight. And so she felt Buffy's fingers tightening into her hips, Buffy's lips on hers before she could even decide how to react, and in that moment she forgot what rational thought would have dictated as her reaction. She lost all thoughts of pushing Buffy away, of gently acknowledging Buffy's vulnerability and offering her unequivocal friendship, of reminding her of the complex layers that existed between them. The calm voice of conscience and reason was lost beneath the roar in her ears and the sudden pounding of her heart. The energy, the heat coming off of Buffy made a sound like the ocean and a feeling of immeasurable power and as she felt Buffy's tongue against her lips Tara was blinded by the truth that she wanted to taste Buffy, too – not just what had been offered to her – tongue, mouth, teeth – but all of her.

Buffy felt Tara's skin jump beneath her hands, her lips, and then the undeniable sensation of dominance and control. She had been born knowing how to dominate, how to win. Spike had taught her more about how to push that instinct into a darker control than she had consciously wanted to know. Power. Tara had the power to tell Buffy what had gone wrong with her, with the resurrection spell, and Buffy had had to come to her – not even Willow or Giles to help now – and ask – beg for help ... Buffy gripped Tara's hips harder and then one hand moved to the small of her back pushing Tara's body into hers. She felt Tara's lips parting against her tongue and she plunged it inside the other girls mouth, swallowing the whimper that was escaping from Tara's throat. She moved her other hand to the back of Tara's neck holding it in a strong, grip, twisting her deadly fingers into Tara's long hair, pinning her immobile against her body, ravishing Tara's mouth and then moving her lips, her strong teeth scraping hard against the vulnerable flesh that angled towards the hollow of her throat, heard that soft voice whisper her name ... as she had in those moments, that time she couldn't take back, when Buffy had laid in her lap like a child, Tara had whispered her name, she had been Tara's to control ... No Tara wasn't about control, Tara didn't want to hurt her, to control her, she had forgiven her ...

Buffy felt Tara shaking beneath her tongue and the satisfaction that welled up from her belly was replaced suddenly and sickeningly with shame and fear and all that disgust that Tara had managed to make go away just moments before.

"Oh god." Buffy leapt back from Tara as if she had been burned, staring into the other girls eyes, unable to read the expression in them. "Oh god. Oh Tara, I'm so sorry. That's not what I meant at all."

Tara breathed in the distance between them, her heart still racing. After trying and failing to speak three times she realized suddenly that she was still holding Buffy's wrist in a death grip and dropped it.

Buffy sat back on her heels, burying her face in her hands and crying softly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Again, Tara reached forward to comfort her, and found that her heart had stopped racing enough to form coherent thoughts and words. "Buffy it is okay. I told you. I know you're going through a lot. I told you things aren't simple."

"That wasn't what I meant to do."

"I know that." Tara assured her. "But ... maybe it will help if you talk about it with me."

Buffy sighed and looked up from her place at Tara's feet. "I ... I wanted..." Tara waited patiently for Buffy to explain her confusion, knowing that an incident like this one, left unresolved, could fester into a secret that would destroy their friendship. "I wanted to ... to kiss you because ... because you looked so beautiful. And you're so good to me. And ... and I guess I thought maybe you were lonely too, and I could give you something back. But then I ... it all got mixed up with ... I got you mixed up in my mind and I thought I wanted to hurt you. But I don't." She paused for breath. "And you can leave right now and never speak to me again and I'll understand..." she burst into tears again as Tara blinked in shock, trying to process Buffy's words. "But I wish you'd stay. Stay with me."

"Buffy."

"'s okay," Buffy replied, sniffling. "I told you I'm all fucked up inside."

"Buffy."

"… and I know you love Willow and I don't know what the hell I feel for Spike except it's probably not of the good and I don't know when the hell it all got so messed up, or where we all went wrong, but I never wanted to hurt you but I'm so lonely. At night. Tara I'm so lonely. And I know you are too. You're braver than I am and you're stronger so no one knows. But I know. I want to give you something and this is all I have left."

"Buffy." As Buffy's breath ran out and her thoughts wound down the fact that Tara didn't sound angry was finally able to reach her muddled brain. "Buffy look at me."

She did. Again, she saw love. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Understanding. And something else. Something new ...

"Buffy, t-t-tell me again what you are thinking and i-i-fff you are really sure ... " Tara's sweet voice took on a husky, breathy tone Buffy had never heard before and her stammer vanished completely "you want me to stay."

Buffy smiled again as she recognized the something else: desire.

"I want you stay. And I'm not sure about anything, but I'm as sure about that as I am anything else. I want you to stay."

Tara's face broke into a sweet smile and she bridged the distance between them, cupping Buffy's chin in her hand, kissing the face with its lingering taste of tears, allowing her fingers to explore the soft territory of Buffy's hair once again. "This should feel strange," she said musingly, as she bent to Buffy's lips. She brushed Buffy's lips gently with her own, allowing her tongue to lick out against them briefly and her fingers to tighten their grip just a bit. She pulled back, sighing. "But it doesn't, somehow ..." She looked at Buffy questioningly, and Buffy smiled.

"Tara, everything feels strange to me. Everything. I can't figure anything out beyond that. But ... stay with me."

Tara nodded and moved towards the girl who still knelt at her feet. She kissed her again, all the voices of reason and the dictations of life outside of this room falling hushed at the feel of Buffy's mouth opening beneath hers. It had been so long since Tara had felt this rush of energy, these feelings of desire and want. She'd pushed her own wants and needs aside, buried them down deep so that she could continue to offer love and support to Dawn, to stay away from Willow, to help Buffy through her pain. But tonight, at the sensation of Buffy's hands on her back, Buffy's tongue smoothly caressing her own, the feelings of loneliness began to fall away and Tara realized suddenly that this was all she had, too, anymore. Perhaps not all she had to give, but all she wanted to receive.

Buffy pulled Tara down to the floor beside her, her hands unconsciously gripping Tara's wrists harder than the girl would usually find comfortable. Tara found she didn't care. She was a still a little afraid, the dark control and confusion that she could still sense as she reached out with her mind to touch Buffy's aura could take the two of them to a darker place. And Tara realized that she liked that too.

One hand still gripping Tara's wrist, hard, Buffy moved closer to her, bridging the distance between them. She climbed into Tara's lap, wrapping her legs around Tara's waist and digging her heels into her back. She had no doubts, no thoughts beyond Tara's soft skin, the way she smelled like lavender and the full breasts pressing into hers. So soft and yet so strong. Tara's flesh was firm and smooth and warm and exactly what Buffy needed right now. She pushed her slender body closer, allowing all the hard and sharp angles of her own bony limbs to mold themselves into Tara's warm and giving flesh. Tara's body was as beautiful as her loving smile, she tasted as sweet as her voice sounded. Buffy wanted all of it, all the sweetness, all the warmth; Tara would give her anything she asked, she was sure. But Buffy didn't ask. She took.

She knew what she wanted, even though she'd never really thought about it before. Thought of Tara that way, thought of herself this way, though there had been moments with Faith ... she pushed those thoughts away, thoughts of everything away except Tara, here, now. She took Tara's wrists in her hands again, in that grip that hurt and would leave petal-shaped bruises for Tara to find in the clear light of tomorrow morning, bending her backwards and forcing her shoulders to the floor, hands clenching uselessly above her head. Buffy bent her head to Tara's throat, allowing her own weight to fall forward onto her elbows, enjoying the feel of Tara's body stretched out beneath her. She placed her lips against Tara's throat, planting small, delicate kisses along the soft curve of her jaw and following the smooth path of her skin to the place where her blouse fell open, allowing Buffy her first glimpse of Tara's breasts, rising and falling in the beautiful rhythm of her shallow, rapid breathing. She could feel Tara's skin tremble beneath her lips, whether in fear or desire Buffy neither knew nor cared. She was getting the reaction that she wanted: she could feel Tara's pulse quickening against her mouth, and she licked out into the warm dark hollow above her collar bone, enjoying the whimpers and moans that fell on her ears like music. Seeking more, demanding more from herself and her lover, she trailed her lips back up to Tara's neck, easily finding the vulnerable place where her blood pounded hard and strong. She bit, just sharp enough to sting and Tara cried out, her back arching, pushing her belly and breasts hard against Buffy, her fingers still clawing helplessly at the air.

Tara felt the moisture that she had was gathering between her legs flood into the fabric of her skirt and, knowing Buffy could feel it too, would have been embarrassed and awkward had the feelings awakening in every nerve of her body allowed any room for thought. She was flushed with heat, and her skin was crackling with desire and lust. It had never been like this with Willow, or the few lovers she'd had before she met Willow her sophomore year. Tara's sexual experience had always been about love, or at least friendship, companionship and communication. The shock of the sensations Buffy was evoking in her was like plunging into a cold river in the heat of the day: everything about this was new, and frightening, and delightful in the way that only pure, raw feeling can be delightful. Buffy was stronger than she was. Buffy was in control of her body in ways that went far past her dominant position. And Buffy was not entirely emotionally stable. Tara had never known how intoxicating desire laced with a little fear could actually be. She had never realized how being helpless could be so liberating. She was in someone else's power. Buffy did not have to listen to her.

And as if to emphasize that point, Buffy, without letting go of Tara or of moving off her body, stilled her mouth and stopped the rolling movement of her hips. Simply stopped, staring hard into Tara's face as it changed from desire and joy to surprise and disappointment. Tara opened her eyes and stared into Buffy's, allowing herself to feel and express everything in them. For half a minute they stayed like that, neither giving an inch. Then Buffy smiled, a little wickedly, but without menace. "Are you afraid of me, Tara?" she asked in a voice as flat and neutral as stranger's.

Tara had no idea what answer Buffy was seeking, so she fell back on her usual honesty. "A little."

Buffy leaned forward, kissed her firmly and replied, "That's okay. But don't be. I won't hurt you."

"Promise?"

Buffy smiled again, making a face like a playful puppy's. "No." And she kept her playful face as she bent down again to Tara's throat, this time allowing her mouth to move lower, pressing her lips against the tops of Tara's breasts. Tara sighed contentedly, relaxing her arms and letting her neck extend further and her back arch once again, seeking more of Buffy's expert attention. Buffy allowed her eyes to drift closed again, as she had while she rested on Tara's lap. The feeling of pressing her lips, mouth, face into Tara's soft breasts was evoking in her the same feelings of comfort and security. Too anxious to get even more of the feeling, Buffy abandoned Tara's wrists and used her nimble fingers to make quick work of the buttons on her blouse. She brushed her fingers against the lacy cotton covering them and Tara whimpered again rolling her stomach against the pressure of Buffy's straddling thighs. Buffy responded, pressing harder, her own pleasure beginning to build as the hard seam of her jeans pressed into the blood-rich nerves hidden beneath.

Her fingers sought Tara's breasts again, even as her neck arched outward like a bird's, and her eyes pressed shut to further savor the sensations Tara's rolling body was creating in ever-increasing waves. She moved aside the fabric that kept her from touching them fully, hearing the rip of cotton as strength and desire met and matched and removed the barriers that kept her from what she wanted.

Buffy's hands were so rough, so different from the soft skin of most women, Tara thought fleetingly. The fingers that traced along her nipples were covered with the coarse skin of old scars and more recent burns. The palms were calloused from years of wielding stakes and training with weapons. So different ... but so good. Tara didn't think Buffy had ever been with another woman, but she seemed to know without being taught where touch, how hard to squeeze, when to sooth her burning flesh and when to pinch and raise the fever. It was then that Tara realized her own hands were free, and she reached around to run her hands over Buffy's tiny waist. Feeling no resistance, she moved her hands beneath Buffy's shirt, gasping with delight as her hands made contact with the Slayer's warm skin. She ran her nails smoothly up Buffy's back, fascinated with feel of her rib bones, the ridge of her spine. Buffy felt like some exotic creature, as delicate and unbreakable as wrought iron. She heard her own voice, but one she barely recognized, whispering her new lover's name. Buffy responded by nuzzling her head back down into Tara's breasts, rolling one nipple between her finger and then taking it, so gently between her lips and teeth. Tara screamed, her eyes flying open and her nails gripping harder. Buffy was pleased by that reaction and bent to the other breast, this time suckling hard, allowing her tongue free reign to lap and explore the tight little peak. Her hand drifted to the other breast, cupping it firmly, holding the weight in her palm and fanning her small fingers in arousing circles. Spike did that for her and she always liked it. And now that she was less muddled by her own feelings of desire and lust, she remembered some of the other things Spike did for her and she moaned hard, allowing the vibration of the noise traveling across her lips and tongue and into Tara's sensitive skin.

They stayed that way for a long time, tangled together on the floor, lips, hands, mouths, fingers seeking warm skin, the sound of heated sighs, the smell of salty desire perfuming the air. Tara pulled Buffy's shirt off, moved her fingers over Buffy's chest, petting her, stroking her playfully like a kitten. Kissed her mouth, neck, ribs, belly and breasts. Ran her fingers through the soft, short hair and nuzzled her cheek against Buffy's temple, breathing warmly into her ear. Pleasure and desire built slowly between them, by turns in the disguise of pain, by degrees of fear and trust. It was not that Tara was less afraid of Buffy now, as much as she was less afraid of giving into that fear, of relinquishing that control. It had so long since Tara had allowed herself these feelings, too long since she had trusted completely.

Instinctively sensing this final capitulation, Buffy put an end to the game of teasing, of coaxing, and ran her fingers, hard against Tara's inner thigh, parting her legs, seeking Tara's hot, wet center. Tara offered no resistance in voice or body, even when she felt Buffy's nails dig into the sensitive skin between her navel and where the patch of coarse golden curls began. Instead she arched her hips towards those strong, questing fingers, longing to feel them inside, feel the heel of Buffy's palm pressing, hard, against her clit.

Once again, just before she reached that place Tara was desperate for her to find Buffy stopped. Her hand rested heavily on Tara's inner thigh, her fingers dancing lightly across her belly. Tara opened her eyes, looking helplessly into the other girl's enigmatic face.

"Do you want me to stop?" Buffy asked in that same courteous, distant voice.

"Oh no. Oh god no." Tara replied immediately.

"I don't want to stop, either," she said, her voice low and full of desire now. "Come upstairs with me, though?"

Tara nodded, pulling herself onto her knees, pulling her blouse closed in front of her, but allowing the ragged remains of her bra to drop to the floor. Buffy put her hands over Tara's and pulled the blouse apart again. "I like to look at you, Tara. You don't have to cover up." She smiled again, pulled Tara to her feet effortlessly and guided her up the stairs, almost as if she wouldn't know where to go. As if Tara didn't know this house almost as well as Buffy did. But Tara was grateful for the hand in hers, for the strong arm under her elbow. She knew the way up the stairs, but she was sure she would have fallen behind and gotten lost along the way if Buffy hadn't guided her.

Buffy pushed open the door of her bedroom and guided Tara to the bed, sitting her down on it and kneeling once again at her feet. For only a moment she put her head back in Tara's lap, closing her eyes, but running her hands over the back of Tara's calves. She sighed happily, and got up to close the door behind them. Without words, or need for words, she slipped the open blouse over Tara's shoulders, allowing her fingers to linger on the warm flesh of her shoulders and wrists. She helped Tara out of her skirt, and her shoes, undressing her completely without hesitation. She kissed Tara's breasts, and then her belly as she guided her into relaxing on her back. Kissed her inner thighs as she coaxed them further apart. Pressed her lips into every sensitive spot on Tara's body she could find, listening for moans and sighs and responding to each jump and quiver of her flesh.

When she was satisfied that Tara was pliant and relaxed beneath her, she stood up quickly and stripped herself naked, and then returned quickly to her lover in bed. She laid on top of her, stretching her slender body to cover every inch of Tara she could possibly could. Absorbing the other girl's warmth through her skin like a tonic. She closed her eyes to savor this sensation, arching only her belly off of Tara and moving her hand between their bodies. Guided by the damp and warmth Buffy quickly found the source of Tara's pleasure and power and thrust two fingers inside her, reaching deep and stretching the warm, silken walls.

Tara screamed again, as the electricity of desire that had been rising through the night found its ground. Pleasure hummed along the wires of every nerve and Tara gave herself over completely. She pulled Buffy's face to hers, kissed her with a passion so sharp it was almost worship. She clutched the bedclothes, twisting her hips and moaning and Buffy added a third finger, and applied terrible, wonderful pleasure to Tara's clit. All of Buffy's natural instincts took over and she didn't need knowledge born of experience to know what Tara wanted and what she needed. Pleasure was drawn out from her lover even as the moisture was drawn out from her body, flowing over Buffy's tiny hands, soaking her fingers and filling the air between them with the smell of desire as primal and eternal as the sea. Tara was blinded by the light, colors in jagged geometric shapes pressed into her brain and still, the pleasure went on, went on too far, became pain. And the pain became unbearable, and she wanted to beg Buffy to stop except that she was afraid that if she did Buffy would stop, and the pain was almost better than the pleasure until the pain became pleasure again and that was ecstasy beyond any definition.

But even a witch and a slayer become bound by the laws of the natural world eventually, and at last Tara had nothing left to give, and Buffy had nothing more to take, and they lay spent, gently drifting in a timeless space that didn't exist outside this bed. Buffy sighed happily, curling up next to Tara. After a moment her deep breathing and the satisfied grin of a woman who has proven herself, she felt Tara shift beside her and decided to allow it. Buffy's contented sighs broke off into sudden gasps of delight. Her eyes flew open as she felt Tara's breath blowing in warm puffs of air across her clit. Buffy was clean shaven, allowing Tara to see the skin darkening from pale pink to a rich color like the flesh of a peach beneath her mouth.

Buffy struggled to pull away, afraid of something she couldn't name, but, even as she had held Buffy's head still on her lap so gently that resistance was pointless, Tara pressed on Buffy's belly and Buffy fell back on the bed, arms outstretched and legs parting without thought of power struggle or of fear. Tara's tongue flicked over Buffy's hard clit, and she felt the girl's tiny body jump with delight.

Buffy wasn't the only person who wanted to give a gift that night. Tara knew that Buffy needed gentleness more than anything right now. A soft mouth, a firm, loving tongue, warm breath. And this is what she gave her. Her strong tongue licked up and inside her lover's tight passage, savoring the taste, refusing to rush even when Buffy's hands tangled into her hair and pulled. She built Buffy's pleasure even more slowly than Buffy had built hers. But without teasing, without taunting, without invoking control or power. Only with a deep desire to give safety and comfort and joy, with a deep gratitude at all that come to her tonight, so unexpectedly. She used her teeth to coax, not to bite, used her lips to suckle, not to consume, used her tongue to lick every surface that would give Buffy the greatest pleasure. She drank the girl's liquid without greed, satisfied her hunger without voracity, in giving Buffy this joy received more than she had at the height of her own ecstasy.

Tara had no need to suspend her partner on the knife's edge to bring her to a place of completeness. One wave of orgasm followed another, neither greater or less than the last, but continually flowing, birthing more. Buffy shook from the inside out, she was still and immobile with pleasure that could not be contained, she laughed out loud, tears spilled from her eyes, and all of this somehow at the same time, and somehow over and over again, like a ring when it is rolling.

After a moment, as though Willow had deliberated knocking, or peeking into the room without knocking, and decided against it, she heard the steps moving along the runner in the hall, heard the door of what had once been their bedroom open and close. Tara stared into the dark, listening to the familiar noises of Willow getting ready for bed. She knew exactly how long Willow would brush her teeth, when she would undress and how much of that expensive lotion (Willow's only real indulgence) she would rub into her white skin, when to expect slight creak of the bed as she settled her tiny body on it. Tara wondered if Willow slept in the middle of the bed now, or if Tara's space was still there beside her. Resisting the impulse to check, Tara slid out from Buffy's embrace without waking her, dressed silently, and tiptoed down the stairs, locking the door behind her with the key she still carried on her chain.

The End

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