Return to The Sex Journals Part Twelve

The Sex Journals

Author: Washi (ZWS)
Rating: NC-17 baby!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, Joss does or whoever. If I owned them, do you really think I would let season 6 happen? And why the hell would I be writing this? So yeah, all belongs to Joss, ME etc...

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Tara asked Willow as they entered their house.

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong baby." Willow replied absently, her mind whirling with proposal possibilities.

"Willow, look at me. You were distracted during the movie and you seem so far away. What's bothering you?" Tara replied, folding her arms across her chest.

"Aww, baby, I swear, it's nothing, just thinking about a couple of things. You know, work. And it's kinda noisy up here tonight." Willow replied, smiling and pointing to her head.

Tara smiled and unfolded her arms, moving towards Willow. She slipped her hands over Willow's shoulders, down her arms, and let them fall until they clasped hands.

"Well, I'm pretty tired too. So, how about we have a good night of sleep instead of staying up. I think we should recharge our batteries." Tara said as she leant towards Willow and slowly kissed her. Willow nodded and hand in hand, they went to their room.

Willow was on her back, with Tara sleeping on her shoulder, snuggled up like usual. But Willow wasn't asleep. She looked at the clock beside her. It was three o'clock in the morning, and the redhead's mind was still trying to find the perfect proposal.

<Okay, how about... I rent a limo and take her to dinner? Nah, she'll know I'm up to something. How about, we just go to dinner... Um, not romantic enough. The park? No. The Magic Box? No. Think Willow dammit! Okay, think romance... Roses. Sunset on the beach. That sounds nice. A picnic. Yeah. With chilled champagne, and strawberries dipped in chocolate. Ok, so it's more of a desert... Scratch the sunset. How about when the moon rises? Yeah, that's nice. Okay, we're gonna need some kind of a protection spell over the area, so no baddies can come over and ruin the night. I'll get Anya to put it around. Oh! Maybe I can get some tinkerbell lights that spell "Will you marry me"? Or maybe fireflies. Ohh! That's be great! Now, I need a romantic speech. And of course, I need to get a beautiful ring for my beautiful girl. Ok, let's imagine the scene.>

And Willow did just that. She saw the scene in her head, over and over until sleep finally claimed her.

Buffy climbed into bed after a light patrol and found her best friend's journal right where she had left it. She rubbed her hands and starting leafing through it.

<Ah ha! The night when they decided to get "registered" as "domestic partners". I'm not even gonna start rambling to myself about how weird it is to call them "Domestic Partners" instead of wives. Let's see.>

These last few days, I thought about how to ask Willow to get officially registered as "domestic partners". We've been living together for years, but we can't get married, so, getting registered is the next best thing. We have Power of Attorney in case one of us gets hurt or something of the kind (Goddess forbid), but we're not officially registered. We have talked before of a Wiccan hand-fasting, and I'm sure we'll do that someday.

But let's focus on yesterday. Last night was the perfect evening to bite the bullet. Dawn and Buffy were going on patrol together and were out for the night, so me and Willow had the whole house to ourselves.

I was pretty nervous since I had no idea how to engage in this conversation with Willow. I didn't know if I should get rings or not. I had no idea how to act or what to do.

I thought a lot about the ring question, and then, I decided against it. If we get rings for every ceremony we might do, we'll have our fingers full of them.

Anyway, I was nervous. SO nervous. And when I'm nervous, I stammer. I prayed all day that my stammer wouldn't hit me at night, but I was still nervous.

I cooked dinner and I got us a bottle of wine. As I was chopping vegetables for the salad, Willow got home from work. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear her sneak up behind me. Only when I felt her arms circle my waist did I know she was home.

"Hello my love." she whispered in my ear.

I smiled and turned around, her arms still around me. Our eyes met, and her features softened to a pure look of love. I love Willow's eyes. They're green, with little specks of gold, amber, blue and gray. I lost count of how many specks there are. Probably because I usually get myself lost in her when I look into her eyes. I could probably spend this whole journal talking about Willow's eyes, so I better stop.

I replied with a simple "Hey sweetie." and leaned closer for a kiss.

She met me halfway, and instinctively, I cupped her face in my hands. I love doing that when we're kissing. Her lips met mine softly, and she tightened her hold on me, pulling me closer as she deepened the kiss, her tongue seeking entrance to my mouth to greet my tongue hello. It was a slow, sensual kiss, and as always, it took my breath away. She pulled back slightly, our lips practically touching.

"Baby, is it just you and me tonight?" she asked.

Her lips brushed against mine as she talked, and my lips tingled.

"Yes." I replied breathlessly, my eyes closed and my fingertips tracing the smooth contours of her delicate face, memorizing the shapes and the textures beneath them.

I felt her smile vixen-ishly against my lips as we kissed again. She sucked at my lower lip and then ran her tongue on it, making me moan. Goddess, she knows exactly how to turn me on with the slightest touch. One look, or one kiss, or one slight touch, and I'm ready to jump in bed. I wonder how people think I'm innocent.

Our tongues met and sparred, our lips crushing together as the kiss became an inferno of liquid heat. Our tongues still dancing a heated tango of passion, she led me slowly towards the wall. I knew what she planned to do, so I eagerly let her lead the way. She pressed me there with her body, her hands seeking mine, our fingers lacing together before she pinned them to the wall, over my head, our elbows bent so that both hands touched, forming a kind of cocoon around our heads.

That position always makes me feel safe, as if we're in our own little plastic bubble of joy, passion, love and desire. The security that's been missing from my life for so long. That's something else I love about Willow. She makes me feel safe. After what happened two years ago, I didn't think I'd feel safe again, but I was mistaken. Every morning, I wake up with her, and I thank the Goddess for bringing Willow in my life. Her small lithe body holds incredible strength, and she shows it to me everyday, just by the way she holds me when I'm asleep, her arms around me, her warm body against mine. The little gestures that other couples take for granted, such as the stolen looks, or the handholding take a new meaning with her. She's my strength in our fight. And I'm not just talking about the Scooby life. She encountered darkness and came out shinning brightly, the Northern Star in the inky darkness of my past. She is my past, my present, my future. Truly my always.

We kept kissing, our breath growing ragged and she slowly pulled away, releasing my hands to run her own down my arms to my sides, her palms teasing the sides of my breasts in her journey. My hands fell to her shoulders as I rested my forearms on them, while my hands were running through her coppery locks. Our foreheads were pressed together, and I felt her shallow breath on my lips. We stayed like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's loving hold. I opened my eyes and found hers closed, a smile touching her lips. She loosened her hold and drew slightly back, opening her eyes and fixing them on mine.

"How was your training?" I asked her, knowing from her clothing, her smell, the taste of her lips and the late hour that she had spent sometime training with Buffy.

Since she pretty much gave up magic, Willow started training with Buffy, acquiring some fighting skills. She does practice witchcraft, but not like before. She has a lot of power, and I knew that she needed to master it and control it which is why I taught her Wicca, the respect of magical forces. She understands her mistakes and almost never uses magic, and when she does, it's based in light and she's with me. Still, she doesn't use it in general, so she thought it would be good for her to learn how to fight. Her lithe body keeps getting more and more muscular, but not in the Amazonian-kind. More like in the fact that her muscles are more defined, without taking away any of her femininity. Her strength is great thought, especially in the bedroom, where her stamina is extraordinary. So, I'm not complaining at all.

"Workout was good. Tiring but good. Would you be offended if I got showered while dinner gets ready? I smell icky and I feel sweaty."

"Darling, you don't smell icky. You smell like you usually do after a long night of wild passionate sex. But you do feel sweaty, so, up to the showers you go." I replied, grinning.

She slowly pulled away, her eyes glinting.

"You are such a vixen. I can't even make one normal comment without you thinking of sex. What am I going to do with you?" she asked, grinning cheekily.

"You are going to enjoy it." I replied laughing. "Now, scoot up to the shower. Dinner is almost ready."

She mock saluted me. "Yes Ma'am!"

She giggled and ran upstairs, leaving me alone in my thoughts again. I finished fixing up the salad and brought the meal to the dinner table, and I sat down, waiting for my love to come downstairs.

I don't believe words exist to explain how much I love Willow. She uses the term "soul mates" but she says it pales in comparison to what we have. And I agree. After all the pain I had known growing up, I never expected to feel a love this poignant, unwavering and strong.

And to think that our connection first came through the simple touch of our hands. In the past, hands and fists always hurt me, causing bruises inflicted by the angry men of my "family". Willow is going to get sad when she reads this, she doesn't like it when I call the Maclay clan my family. She says they don't deserve me. But that's another subject I will get in some other day.

After that much pain, inflicted by hands, I welcomed Willow's touch. Her hands are smooth and fine, but they hold strength, and not the physical angry kind. They are like my mother's, but different. Willowhands are special. They touch me with infinite tenderness, almost reverently. Her fingers draw me, making me feel like a work of art. They mold me as if she was a sculptor, they enter me softly or urgently, but they never cause pain, always causing pleasure. She uses them to draw my contours, to hold me, to play me, as if she strummed a ballad, using my body as a guitar that's precious to her.

I was so lost in my Willowhand and Willowfingers fantasies that I didn't even notice her coming down the stairs.

"Baby? Are you okay?" she asked, sitting down.

"Um? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about some things." I replied, trying to look casual.

"You just look distracted tonight. Are you sure everything's okay? Did I do something?" she asked.

I smiled and took her hand, feeling the usual spark of electricity that flowed between us.

"Everything's fine sweetie. I was just thinking about my past, and our future." I said, trying subtly to see her reaction.

She smiled somewhat sadly. "How about we only think about our future? I don't like the sadness I see in your eyes when you think about them." She said the last word as if it was poisonous.

I smiled and agreed, and her eyes started shinning again, the Willow-spark back. We chatted and ate, and she was even more tender than usual, feeding me bites of chicken and looking at me in undisguised adoration. She had uncorked the white wine and poured me a glass.

"To us and the future my love." she toasted as she raised her glass to mine.

"To us and our future my soul mate." I answered.

We cleaned up after the meal and sat down on the couch to watch a movie. She pulled me into her embrace, between her parted legs and I laid down into my usual space. She wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, and my hands came to rest on hers. My head was pretty much resting on her shoulder. I wasn't really focusing on the movie as much as I was on the way her fingertips were caressing the skin of my stomach or the way my fingers were running up and down her arms. Again, I started thinking about security. Even just laying like this, in her arms makes me feel so safe. It makes me feel like I belong, like I have a place in the Scooby gang, and I truly believe that I do. These people are my family. Willow already gave me a family, and it feels so good. My musings were interrupted by Willow.

"Baby?" she whispered gently, her voice caressing.

"Yeah." I replied.

"I kinda need to ask you something, or more like we need to talk."

Her serious tone wasn't lost on me, and I got up from her embrace. She held my hands and took a few deep breaths. I was really starting to wonder what she was gonna say, and for a second, a flash of insecurity came to the surface.

"Willow, y-you're m-making me n-nervous. And I also wanna talk to you about something."

She looked up at me and smiled.

"You shouldn't be nervous about this, I promise it's nothing bad. Have your really thought of our future? I mean, have you pictured us staying here with Buffy and Dawn forever?"

I smiled. "I always thought we'd do a hand-fasting ceremony, and we'd get a house together, not too far from here, and we would live there until we get old and gray. Together."

"Well, I... um... What do you think of the house next door? The Stevenson's place."

"I... um... I don't know what it's like inside, but it looks really nice from the outside." I was starting to get really curious.

"Did you notice the For Sale sign on the lawn?"

I started understanding what she was getting at, and I felt my heart burst with happiness. I nodded.

"Well, I was thinking that ... um... maybe we could, you know... buy the house and um... move out of here." she continued, looking in my eyes.

I felt my tears start to flow and I hugged her, nodding my head.

"Great! I'll call the real estate company and talk to them tomorrow. Now," she said, pulling back from the hug, "what do you want to talk to me about?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Willow, d-do you wanna get registered as a 'domestic partner'?"

She smiled, her eyes widening. "Oh yes! Yes! I'd love to baby!"

I smiled, a smile straight from the heart and she leaned over and kissed me. Her hands cupped my face, her fingertips touching my skin as if I were made of fine porcelain. Slowly, her tongue traced my lips and I parted them to allow her tongue entrance. Her tongue entered my mouth gently, licking my tongue, caressing it with the sweetness of her touch. I melted into the kiss, feeling nothing besides the subtle touches of Willow's fingertips tracing my jaw and then creeping to my neck and the touch of her lips and tongue sliding sensually against mine like two sweat-covered bodies rocking together in a slow dance of love.

Slowly, she pulled back from the kiss and gazed into my eyes, brushing away some stray strands of my hair from my face. Her smile was an arch of warm red, tenderly beckoning to me, her eyes were liquid pools of green, enveloping me in a loving embrace and her fingers were a painter's soft brush, tracing the lines of my face and neck as if drawing me anew. She is an artist, and I'm her favorite painting, the one she keeps perfecting with soft strokes of paint.

As if reading my thoughts, she said: "You're a renaissance painting. Even Botticelli couldn't paint someone as exquisite as you."

I blushed and replied that she was exaggerating.

"No, I'm not." she said, running her fingers, soft like butterfly wings on my lips.

I seriously don't understand what I did to be rewarded with having Willow in my life. She keeps telling me that she's the lucky one, and we usually start the bantering there, until we finally agree that we're both lucky.

Her words, her compliments keep getting more and more tender, loving. She always finds new images to describe me with. Willow is also a poet. Her words flow languidly over me like the softest caress she can bestow.

Her hands dropped from my face and find mine, entwining them tightly together, molding them in a sculpture of love. She got up and led me upstairs.

<Dear God! I see now why Willow says Tara is the artist! Her writing is just... wow! She writes better than that author we studied... Lord Baritone! Or something. God, I need a glass of water.> Buffy thought as she got up and headed towards the kitchen.

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