Part 06
Willow craved sleep. In her delirium, with sweat pouring off her uncontrollably, her thin body shaking constantly, all she wanted was to return to the world of dreams to see Tara again.
"If you want me to experience all our time together, give that time to me," she said weakly. She thought she was dying, and it was strangely comforting.
She thought about her own Turning, at the hands (fangs, really) of Xander, about the whole universe of opportunities that were lost to her seventeen year old, fluffy self. She thought of the old Master and the Order and the unquestioned loyalty he demanded. She thought of the slayers and the motley assortment of characters that came into her life.
But most of all, she thought of Tara. Her constant sun, moon, star, air, water and universe. How even her demon grew to savor every second spent with her love.
She remembered the numbness they both felt, that day at the doctor's office. Of how Willow's demon had almost escaped and how she was tempted to savagely rip the poor man's throat apart.
And how the only reason for her existence faded away with the sound of that last rasping breath that would forever be etched in her mind. She had spent the endless stretch of time before The End at Tara's side, not sleeping, not feeding, not even blinking sometimes, so she could remember as much of her love as possible. Each labored breath, each struggle as her love tried to smile or speak or open her eyes, each weak squeeze of their entwined hands was desperately consumed and stored away.
Listening to the slowing heartbeat that had been her rock for so many years, as it stuttered, and then there was silence.
"I am condemned, but you owe me one last chance. Take me, but give me one last dream," she begged.
Tara giggled but didn't stop the attack of Willowhand. She started her own attack of Taralips on Willow's neck, and soon their giggles started to attract the attention of other movie-goers. Willow idly thought she should have had the place cleared, or at least had one of Harm's boys tag along to control the human interruptions.
A germ of an idea sprouted in her mind, of purchasing the theater. But the thought was quickly replaced by those of her girl, who was slowly nibbling her way up Willow's neck and had reached a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear.
She closed her eyes in delight.
~~~~~
When she opened them it was night, and she was lying naked on wet grass. She lifted her head up a little and noted her surroundings, with a satisfied smile she realized she was on the 18th green of the Sunnydale Golf Club. She had taken up the 'respectable' pastime, even demons are not immune to the allure of conducting business over a genteel game of golf. Sunnydale Golf Club held the unenvied title of probably the only golf club that was open 24 hours a day and with a membership list that included some very strange names indeed.
All that was forgotten as soft footsteps made their way toward Willow's prone form. She smiled again, knowing who the footsteps belonged to, and when she turned her head, found her eyes level with bare feet and dainty little toes. Her gaze traveled upwards from the toes and was rewarded by the most erotic sight of a giant naked Tara standing over her. Her love was standing casually, with her legs slightly apart. Willowâs mouth popped open as she took in the sight of Tara's beautiful wiry curls at the apex of her thighs, and silky, damp folds of her lover's sex.
Tara lowered herself and brought her knees to either side of Willow's hips, allowing Willow a full display of her opening, and as she moved further down, her full breasts. Willow squirmed on the damp grass, caught between Tara's wetness on her abdomen and the wetness of the grass at her back.
Tara leant down to kiss Willow, a sweet possessive kiss. Her hands stroked the vampire's arms seductively, causing ripples to travel all over Willowâs body. Their bodies, as Tara's breasts came into contact with Willow's; the ripples of pleasure continued in a loop around them.
Without warning, the floodlights of the course came on and so did the sprinklers. They stopped their kisses for a moment to share a giggle, but wordlessly agreed that they didn't need to move from their position.
Soon they were drenched by the water raining down on them. Drenched inside too, with a different sort of wetness. They started a slow rhythm that was building steadily with their mounting desire. Hands joined, and moved as one down the slippery expanse of warm and cool skin.
Willow closed her eyes in rapture.
~~~~~
Even before she opened her eyes, she could feel the ropes biting into her. She struggled but found that the more she moved, the more tangled up she was. She gasped in surprise when she felt the rough edges of the thick seaman's rope scrape over her clit, the mixture of pain and pleasure was so intense she almost came.
She opened her eyes to see her lover tugging on the rope. The sight of Tara was all she was able to focus on at that moment. She was on their bed, the scent of the sea wafting gently around the room and sounds of waves rolling in onto the shore complemented each other. Tara must have done some sort of spell because she even felt the bed moving as if rocking on the ocean waves.
A rocking that was mirrored by the movement of the rope causing all sorts of sensations to course through her sex. A human would not be able to withstand the tightness of the bonds, but her demon needed it. The rope looped from her waist, forced its way inside her ass cheeks and snaked up to her front. It cut deep into her dripping, wet, throbbing cunt, chafing the outer muscles and making her writhe as she longed for more friction.
"Are you alright?" Captain Tara asked.
Willow could only moan in frustration. "Faster. More," she whimpered.
She could sense Tara's concern. Any more abrasion and she might start bleeding where the rough texture met soft pliant tissue.
"Please, Captain," Willow begged. "I can take more, just let me come."
Captain Tara nodded her understanding and moved to tie a thick knot at the point where the rope touched Willow's folds. She gripped the end more tightly and pulled until the knot was placed directly over Willow's opening.
Willow opened herself wide, to take in as much of the rough material as she could. While she rocked her hips, Captain Tara dragged the rope over achy, needy parts, creating the most intense, delicious friction. Once, twice, by the third pass of the rope over Willow's clit and the shallow penetration of the thick knot and she hit climax, screaming and convulsing and riding the rope like a never ending Willorgasmic Delight.
She woke up, and she couldn't even scream. She was jerking and throbbing from the aftershocks, she was sure she came physically.
She shivered from the sensations. Then another shiver ran through her, coldness creeped up from her back and the hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up.
"Tara?" she asked uncertainly.
At the recesses of her consciousness, she could vaguely feel Tara's presence. There was a movement at the corner of her eyes but when she turned around there was nothing. She was in her Sanctum, a sacred place, she was sure no one, nothing, not even a ghost, could enter without her permission.
She flopped back down and stared at the ceiling. The memories of times with Tara were so real she felt tears and despair coming, but she forced them away.
Just let me sleep. Let me go back to the world of dreams. Bring those memories back to me.
*****
