BY : mcee
Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Tara/Willow
Dragon prints: 4869
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Tara turned off the bathroom light and padded barefoot across the thick carpet, feeling pleasantly cozy in her sweats and tank top. Her skin felt cool from coming out of the shower moments ago, and her mouth tasted minty from brushing her teeth. It was cold out, and they had cracked open the window to let fresh air in. The cold breeze melted together with the warmth of the heater to create an almost surreal temperature, somewhere between nippy and hot.

The room was bathed in the blue-ish glow of the street light outside their thinly curtained window. It was a clear night, and the moon would be full in a few days. Tara, feeling all the world like a kid on Christmas Eve, climbed onto their bed, the soft mattress curving under her weight as she joined her lover. She smiled at Willow, a private smile, and watched as the young woman, lying on her back amidst pillows, subtly lost her battle with consciousness, slipping into a fragile state of in-between. Tara settled down on her side, facing the slumbering girl, and pulled the sheets and heavy comforter over them both. They fell into familiar territory; Tara nuzzled through the thick red hair and settled on Willow's shoulder, her right hand coming to a rest on the girl's belly. She stroked the soft flannel absently, enjoying the familiarity of their night-time ritual. Willow moaned a sleepy acknowledgement and her head turned to Tara's ever so slightly, completing the comforting position.

Minutes went by undisturbed, as Tara allowed her body to mold itself to the mattress, the blankets, the pillows, and the girl. She listened to their clock tick away lazily. She took a moment to smell the fruity shampoo in Willow's hair, and the fresh soap on her own skin. She heard the soft thump of the kitten jumping up on the armchair and curling up on discarded sweaters. She listened as a couple walked under their window, their voices sharp in the cold air, but soothing in their warm tones. She listened until she couldn't hear them anymore, then brought her attention back to the girl against her.

Her fingers played with a button of Willow's pajama top, the last one, where the cotton parted to expose a small triangle of soft flesh that dipped smoothly into the waistband of her matching pajama bottoms. Tara's fingertips glided, feather-light, over the perfect navel, and downwards, drawn by the warmth. Delicate fingers with short nails slipped under the loose elastic, to encounter a thin ribbon of cotton lace, well-worn and hugging against the soft curls. Tara smiled softly, pausing her blind exploration for a moment, letting it sink in. Her fingers caressed their way lower, and she recognized the underwear by mere touch. The yellow ones, with the small pink flower. Briefly she luxuriated with memories of slipping those same panties down perfect legs, maddeningly slow, or pulling them down frantically between their sweaty bodies, when the need was more urgent. Tonight she simply cupped the mounds with a curved palm, over the panties, and Willow gasped next to her, barely pulling out of sleep. Tara felt the wave of warmth roll of off her lover's skin, and Willow's chest rose and fell with deeper breaths.

Tara's fingers curled slightly and she raked her fingertips against the warm cotton, anticipating the feel of the curls under the thin material. A soft sigh from Willow and she slipped under fingers under the garment, combing through the dampness. Tara read her lover like an opened book; it wouldn't be long.

Two inquiring fingers parted the folds and found the hard knot of sensitive skin, caressing along it, not touching it quite yet. It felt familiar. It was familiar. She knew what to do, always had. Even before Willow. The girls she had touched before, they all felt like practice, practice to make perfect until the real thing came along. It felt very real tonight.

Tara slipped her thigh under Willow's, opening her legs slightly. She dipped two fingers into her, and with only a few strokes of her thumb, her lover came in warm liquid, a whimper escaping her, lips enveloping Tara's hand in a moist embrace. Willow's hand crept down her own body and joined Tara's. Sticky fingers entwined, and Tara listened as the girl's heartbeat slowed to a peaceful rate once again. She followed her into sleep, their joined hands tucked into the flannel waistband.


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