Willow told the crystals to dim the lights. They were starting to burn her eyes, small specks were swimming in front of her and she couldnât focus.
A thin stream of tears fell from the corner of her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. She made no effort to staunch the tears or wipe them away. She knew that it was a wasted effort.
On one level she knew that she was slipping in and out of consciousness, and she knew she should try to snap her mind out of lethargy. There was something comforting about this fugue state. She could shut out the heartache and pretended that she was living in the world of dreams.
"You have responsibilities," a soft voice rang out.
"That were forced on me," Willow retorted.
"But you're always my responsible Will. Are you my responsible Will?" the beautiful voice said.
"I'm your everything Will," Willow sighed. She felt tears coming. Was this another dream, or something else?
Willow threw her senses wide open, to try to reach the source of the beautiful voice. She didn't want to open her eyes, she was afraid of what she wouldn't see if she opened her eyes.
"I'm here, you don't need to be afraid."
"I keep telling you, I'm an evil fiend, I'm not afraid of anything," she pouted.
"Then why are you so afraid to open your eyes?"
Willow hesitated, her love had always had the uncanny knack of calling her out, at exactly the right moment.
"I don't trust myself, Tara, I think I'm dreaming, and when I wake up you'll be gone."
"I'm here, Will, feel me. Trust yourself when you feel me."
Willow reached out with one open palm. "Hold my hand. If you really are here, take my hand, baby."
Her entire body stiffened in tension and she held a breath that she didn't need. The undead nerve endings on her fingers hummed in anticipation of the touch.
And when she felt, finally, the tender touch of warm fingers that she knew so well, her hand was shaking so much and she had no grip. She felt Tara's fingers slip out of reach, and cried out.
But strong fingers grasped her hand firmly, and wrapped it up in protection. Their fingers instinctively entwined, and Willow opened her eyes.
And a cry choked at the back of her throat.
Pre bone-thin Tara. Pre gray-pallor Tara. Pre all-life-sucked-out-by-chemotherapy Tara. This was the Tara of her soul, the Tara she had so carefully drawn so that she could treasure within her heart, each exquisite feature meticulously mapped out over the years.
She could barely contain the sob that escaped from her at Tara's smile. She pulled her love close and buried her head in the familiar chest. Her whole body was shaking.
"Baby, it's alright. I'm here," Tara soothed.
Willow couldn't stop. Tears were falling freely from her, and she held onto her love with an iron clasp.
"I'm making your shirt all wet," she murmured, but made no attempt to stem the flood of tears.
"You're worried about getting my shirt wet?" Tara teased.
Willow looked up, and was overwhelmed by an intensity inside her from Tara's benevolent look. Her mind was strangely quiet, as all her focus was on her love â her soft love who she had buried just hours before.
"Am I dreaming?" she wondered aloud.
"No, I'm really here," Tara answered, anticipating Willow's next question.
"Shh. I can't tell you yet."
"But you tell me everything." The Willow pout was in place again.
"I said I can't tell you yet, I'll tell you when it's time," Tara replied, and she reinforced the message by kissing Willow hard, so hard that their lips felt crushed and bruised.
Willow felt like a possession, one that Tara was stamping her ownership on. Mine, mine, Kitten seemed to be saying. To remind herself? To remind Willow? Tara must have suffered through their separation too.
Willow let her body go slack into a loose noodle form for Kitten to mold, to explore and cherish as she wished. It had taken her by surprise, when they first started their games, how easily she submitted to Kitten, how natural it felt to be under Kitten's dominance.
Tara caressed the small gold earring in Willow's ear, and with a small tug, removed it.
"No games tonight. Tonight, we're equals," she hummed into Willow's ear.
Willow shuddered as Tara breathed and nibbled on her sensitive ear, everywhere her love touched was fire. She didn't even bother with the pesky basics, with a wave of her hand, their clothes fell to the floor and she pulled her naked love into her arms. Tara grinned.
Tara's grin turned into full blown squeals as Willow set about exploring every inch of her love's body. Willow remembered visiting the blind, alternate universe version of her during her dimensional hopping days. She remembered her reaction when she first met the tiny, pathetic, girl in a plain T-shirt and second-hand jeans, of how repulsed she felt at the disability. Vampires were strong creatures, and weak vampires were usually culled. But they started talking, and the blind vampire told her about her brave Tara, and how it didn't matter that her sight was gone, the ravishment of her love was as powerful and arousing without sight.
She was mapping her lover again, with her hands, her lips, her skin, rediscovering one soft curve after another. Tara mirrored Willow's moves, her touch lingering over tingly skin, re-learning, re-heating. Ready fingers sought out hidden depths that were cool and wet, hot and smooth, tight and welcoming.
It had been a while for them. Since the doctors ran out of treatment and Tara grew weaker by the day, they hadn't been intimate, Willow refusing her love's plea to find release elsewhere.
They took their time, slowly allowing their passion to build up, teasing each other with kisses and feathery touches that fulfilled and swelled. Yet when they surged too high or too fast, they would slow down and returned to soft lazy strokes, waiting for the tightness to subside before starting the build up all over again.
We're on a journey together, and it will never end.
Time and time again, they brought themselves almost to the edge of their desires, then eased off the pressure to let the urgency pass. The powerful sensations didn't retreat, instead they slowly added to the tension and excitement spreading to every single cell in their bodies.
Willow no longer knew where her cold, undead body ended and Tara's warm, healthy body started. They found themselves, without thinking, at the center of the Sanctum, and their fused bodies and essences open to the forces of the elements that had been woven into the sacred space. The earth underneath them, the very earth that had swallowed Tara a few hours ago, seemed to be calling out to them, to invite them to let their energies flow into the natural rhythm of the universe.
The small part of her mind still thinking thoughts that weren't Tara, Tara, Tara wanted this ritual to last forever. She recognized that this was a ritual that she and her love were performing, a supplication to the goddesses who had watched over them for so many years, their mounting pleasure that they still held onto fiercely, but freely available for the goddesses.
She froze in fear at the one thought that lingered in her mind. What will happen when this ends? When our desire for each other had been sated, when the goddesses are done with us, what then shall we do? Will it be time for her to leave?
She felt her arousal draining out of her. But in a flash Tara was there, and with swift kisses and murmured words of love, brought her back to the brink.
"I'm here. I have you," Tara repeated until Willow's fears receded.
"I'm yours," Willow said.
"And I'm yours too," Tara replied.
This time they reached the peak quickly, and they knew, they knew it was time. The slow fire burning of their impeding release gathered power and when they hit climax together it was an exploding orgasm that released their love, their spirits and their magic in a blinding, deafening burst of pure whiteness that spun them round and round, up and down, in and out, and filled them with joy that radiated from the dead center of the pentagram into every corner of the Sanctum.
It was a long while before they could properly see, hear, taste, feel.