It was almost 1:30 in the morning and Willow still couldn't sleep. She moved onto her back and opened her eyes. Her bedroom was softly lit from the nearly full moon outside. It was bright enough so that she could see some detail in her room, the computers resting on her desk across the room from the foot of her bed for instance, but not so light that she was unable to sleep.
No, there was an entirely different reason for that. Tara.
Willow closed her eyes at the thought of the woman. She had been trying to quiet her busy mind for the last forty minutes, to no avail. Every time she thought she was close to sleep, her mind pulled a fast one and slipped in an image of the blonde, or a snippet of the woman's voice, and Willow would begin to think.
Of Tara in the kitchen. How the wisps of blonde hair gently fell about her face and neck as she cut mangoes for dinner. How strong her hands looked as she worked with the different ingredients, cupping, pinching. How her full breasts would strain against the cotton top when she would pause for a moment, resting her hands on her hips, biting her lower lip while considering her next move. How red those lips were in the warm kitchen.
Please... not tonight... Willow thought, knowing where these thoughts were leading. Where she had allowed herself to be led on so many nights since she discovered her attraction to the blonde three years ago. Her hips were aching to roll, and when she shifted a little to ease her growing tension, her legs fell open slightly.
She took in a deep, steadying breath and felt her chest rise and fall, sweat beginning to accumulate on her neck. She reached up and ran her left hand across her neck, her forearm rubbing against her breast in the process. She had to bite back a groan. She removed her arm to her side, opened her eyes and looked down her body, where her stiff nipples pressed against the thin material of her tank top. She knew she didn't have much in the breast department, but on nights like these, with thoughts like these, they were more than enough. She moved her left hand to her rib cage, and pushing up, cupped the underside of her right breast. She moved her thumb, passing the digit over her erect nipple. She released a shuddering breath at the contact.
She shifted again, her legs falling open a little further. Her breath was growing increasingly ragged, soft, deep sighs in the dark that grew her excitement. She arched her back slightly, as she put her right hand on her stomach. She drew a lazy circle and then slowly moved the hand down, slipping it eventually into her flimsy cotton pajamas. She squeezed her breast gently with her left and sighed.
She would usually run her hand over her damp panties, tease her mound and mind with the growing signs of her arousal, but tonight there was no need. She was ready, and desperately desired more friction than teasing would allow. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her cotton underwear, and slid her hand down through wet curls, squeezing her breast a little more roughly, pinching her nipple between her thumb and hand. She squirmed a bit, opening her legs wider in anticipation of her fingers. She rubbed them lightly down and over her outer lips, feeling the liquid trickling out.
"Oh god..." She moaned, almost silently, thinking of how wet she'd be if Tara ever sought her out in the night. She let her fingers move down between her folds and she slipped in her arousal. So wet... She had tried this before, thinking of others, and while it was good, it was just... good. But when Tara was on her mind... she groaned quietly, pressing into the abundant wetness. "Oh god..."
She thought of the skirt Tara had worn to the club, the kick pleat dancing over her strong, creamy calves as she moved. How she'd like to tickle her fingers over those same calves, how she'd tease Tara before taking a handful of the skirt and pulling it up the blonde's leg slowly. Willow stroked the length of herself deliberately, bottom to top, intentionally missing the bundle of nerves she knew was waiting for her. Her hips rocked forward after her fingers slightly, as if begging for more.
Her mind showed her Tara's collarbones, peaking out into the area the peasant top she wore at dinner revealed. Willow imagined running the material of that shirt's neckline between her fingers and thumb, from the collar to where it met in a 'v' at Tara's breasts. How soft the blonde's skin would feel under her knuckles; how Tara might moan if Willow pushed the palm of her hand into the inside of her breast.
Willow released a low, quiet moan herself, stroking along her length again slowly, bottom to top, again missing her clit. She loved how her body felt when she thought about Tara. Awake. Alive. Bold. She felt like she could feel every cell in her body; the muscles in her back as she tensed and relaxed at her fingers touch, her thighs as they did the same. It was wanton, electric and powerful; things that Willow had been afraid sex would never be years ago.
It hadn't been like this when she was younger, exploring her body tentatively, afraid that even alone she'd do something wrong, or crass. Or even later, when she had been wrapped up in her crushes on Xander, on Oz. She had to work to find release then. This, her body's natural reaction and obvious arousal, this was because of the blonde, and she secretly rejoiced in it.
I shouldn't be doing this... Willow briefly thought guiltily, pulling her hand up to her curls. Tara's just down the hall, and isn't there something sort of, wrong, depraved, about doing this while thinking about a friend? Willow's brow furrowed, her breath still ragged. But she isn't a friend, Willow thought, pushing her hand back down into herself. She's Tara. She sighed, contentedly, massaging her breast, running her thumb over the nipple, before migrating to the other breast. She's the woman that the redhead adored. She cupped her left breast and squeezed. The woman she loved.
The images started to come unbidden to her mind, faster, just as her hand's movements sped up. Tara's half smile. Tara's ass as she leaned over the kitchen counter, her weight on one leg forcing her hip out. Tara's hips when she walked. Tara's arms as they raised in the air when she tied back her hair in a loose bun. Tara.
Willow let her thumb graze over her clit and she bucked, swallowing a grunt. Oh god, she thought, this is gonna be fast. Her hand was slick, her buttocks squeezing and relaxing, ready. Willow took a couple of breaths, paused in all movements, trying to corral her mind. She wanted one more thought, one more image of the blonde that she could hold on to and focus on as she came. She saw Tara, standing in the doorway, in a flimsy nightgo- Oh my god.
Willow shifted suddenly, sitting up some on her left elbow as she saw Tara standing in the doorway in a flimsy nightgown.
Willow's eyes were wide at the sight of the blonde and she sat up fully. She quickly pulled her hand out from between her legs and held it away from her under the comforter. Not sure what to do with the now-offending extremity, she wiped it quickly - and she hoped subtly - on the sheets. Note to self Willow thought oddly coherent for a split second, do laundry tomorrow. She continued to stare at the blonde, speechless, her mind racing. How long has she been standing there? Did she see, did she hear-
"I was on my way back to bed from the bathroom and I heard some noise." Willow closed her eyes and sighed in humiliation. "Are you okay?" The blonde asked softly, her quiet voice carrying in the night.
"Yeah," Willow croaked. She sighed again, biting her lip and then nodded, embarrassed. "Yes," she repeated, this time her voice under control. "I'm just, having a hard time sleeping. I'm sorry if I disturbed-"
"You didn't." The blonde quickly reassured. There was a moment's silence. "May I come in?"
Willow's mind swam. She tried to think, had Tara ever been in her room since she moved in? She looked at the expectant blonde and nodded sharply once. Tara crossed to the bed and sat down. Willow's left hand lay dead at her side, the right still under the comforter.
"Why can't you sleep?" Tara asked gently. "Work stuff?"
Willow nodded. Sure, why not. Yes, work stuff. "Uh huh."
"You look kind of tense." Tara whispered.
"Oh..." Willow thought of an appropriate answer. "My back, and shoulders, kind of tight, so...hard to get cozy." She finally answered numbly.
"Want me to see if I can help?" Tara asked quietly, helpfully. Willow's brow knit together in confusion. "Here, lay on your stomach." Tara scooched back, giving Willow room to roll onto her stomach.
Willow looked to the space and then back up. "No, really you don't have to-"
"I know. But just let me try." They held each other's gaze for a long moment before Willow nodded and obediently moved to her stomach. She was careful to keep her right hand close, and she tucked it under her body as she settled.
Tara reached down and tugged on Willow's right elbow, to free the hand but Willow quickly spoke, "No! I mean, this is how I usually sleep, so..."
"Okay." Tara said. "I just want you to be comfortable."
Not going to happen. Willow thought, her body rigid at the blonde's proximity. Tara reached down and began to gently rub Willow's shoulders through the redhead's tank top. Oh god... Willow shuddered, trying hard not to moan.
Tara rubbed for a few minutes, deepening the pressure and moving from the redhead's shoulders to below her shoulder blades. Willow became more and more relaxed, and when Tara rubbed along her spine, she couldn't help but sigh contentedly. A half smile quirked across Tara's features. "I think someone likes this..." she teased. Willow nodded into the pillow. Tara chuckled, and then spoke, her voice low and husky. "I think that someone might be me..."
Willow went instantly alert at that. Did she just say she likes rubbing me? I mean, massaging me? Tara's hands dipped lower onto Willow's back, and Willow found it impossible to relax again. Each swirl of the blonde's hands was getting closer and closer to her backside. Tara's hands dipped a little lower, and rubbed the fleshy area just below her hips in deep circles. Willow couldn't help it, and groaned into the pillow. She was instantly mortified, and her body tensed.
"Hey," Tara said softly, pausing her motion then sliding her left hand up Willow's back as she stretched out and laid down to the redhead's right. Willow turned her head to face the blonde, seeing her roommate rest her head on the pillow next to her face. The blonde licked her lips and reached her left hand out, tucking a lock of hair behind Willow's ear. Willow closed her eyes at the touch. When she opened them, she saw Tara staring at her intently.
"Tara..." She whispered softly, her voice full of need, and uncertainty.
"Shhh..." Tara said gently, pushing on Willow's right shoulder to get the redhead to roll onto her side so they could face each other. Inches apart, they were lost in each other. Willow had so many questions, but she couldn't seem to focus long enough to string together a sentence. She let her eyes drift over Tara's features, her eyes passionate, heavy lidded, her lips full. She didn't even feel Tara's hand move down her right arm, past her elbow, and toward her hand. She snapped out of her reverence however, when Tara's hand closed on her wrist. The thought of where that hand had been previous to Tara's appearance caused Willow to panic; her eyes went wide and she tried to jerk her hand away. But Tara's grasp was tight, and she pulled the hand toward her.
NO! Willow's mind screamed as she watched the hand move toward Tara's face. Her chest rose and fell quickly, but Tara's eyes serenely stayed locked on her own.
As soon as she had the slim, freckled hand to her face, Tara closed her eyes and deeply inhaled, moaning, "Willow..." Willow's jaw dropped and she lay transfixed at the sight. Tara turned her head and pressed a wet, open mouth kiss on the redhead's palm, her tongue reaching out and tasting the skin, tasting her, and Willow almost came. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, trying to remain in control of her now trembling body. It was almost too much. She opened her eyes, Tara again staring at her. "Willow..." She again said, this time softer, full of need, adoration. She moved the hand from her face, pulling it down to her collarbone, where she pressed it into the exposed flesh.
Willow bit back a moan, and Tara began to guide the redhead's hand down her body. Over her chest, slowing as the hand travelled over her round breast, the taut nipple grinding into Willow's palm as it passed below. Willow's hand then travelled over the blonde's ribs, down further over her belly. She could feel every curve under the barely-there material. Willow couldn't tear her eyes away from the blonde's face, mesmerized by her slightly parted lips, air passing through them irregularly as the girl softly panted. The sweat forming on Tara's brow, and the deep, dark eyes. "Willow..." Tara again sighed, moving the redhead's hand between her legs, pressing it into the wetness, the softness, hiding just below the nightgown's material. "Yesss..." She hissed.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Willow's eyes flew open and she saw her room flooded in sunlight. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she moved her thick tongue sluggishly in her tired mouth as she blinked. She squinted, trying to place herself, the beeping shrill in the background. She twisted her head, pulling the tangled sheets with her as she looked to her left; the bed empty. She looked to the door, closed as she remembered it being when she climbed into bed the night before. She flopped her head back down into the pillow and pressed her eyes shut tight in disappointment. It had been a dream. She moved her head to the side and fought off a sob, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Finally composed, she rotated toward her night stand and turned off her alarm with her left hand. She extricated her right hand from where it rested between her legs, and freed from the sheets, threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She walked to the closet, grabbed two towels and headed to the bathroom.
Once there she quickly turned the nozzles to start the shower. She held her hand under the stream until it felt sufficiently warm and then quickly stripped. Her busy mind raced, and her cheeks were hot. Just a dream. Her lips drew into a thin line as she entered the shower, the warm water blasting her shoulders and matting her hair to her face. She shook her head ruefully and picked up a bar of soap, rubbing it harshly across her fevered skin.
Of course it was just a dream, it will always be, just a dream. Willow put the bar down and stepped into the stream, letting the water wash away the suds. It'll always be a dream, because you're a coward. Willow picked up the shampoo bottle and squirted the liquid into her open palm, then rubbed it into her scalp furiously. Because you're too afraid to tell your friends and family that you're gay. Willow stepped into the stream and let the water rush through her locks. Because you're so afraid that if there were no obstacles, if you were out and you told her how you felt... she would say no. Her chin started to tremble and she rested her palms flat on the shower wall. She reached down and quickly turned the nozzle until the hot water cut out, and the stream turned icy cold. Tears ran down her face as she stood under the freezing water. Tears, because it had been such a wonderful dream.
Tara awoke to the sound of the shower going. She rolled onto her side, the down comforter loosely resting on top of her, her head resting heavily on the soft pillow. She opened one eye and checked the clock. 7:00. She sighed and closed the eye. She could easily drift back to sleep; she had no reason to rise at such an early hour.
Her sleepy lips broke into a wide grin. The noise that woke her was Willow readying herself for the day. Willow in the shower. Tara's smiled widened. Willow in the shower... She knew the redhead liked to get up early on work days. The girl didn't need to be in to work until 8:30, but she liked giving herself an hour in the morning to read the news on her laptop as she drank a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
She sighed happily and pulled a spare pillow to her chest, hugging it tightly. "My Tara." She thought back to the glowing smile Willow had given her when they sat close on the couch at the club the night before, how they lost themselves in the other, if even for a brief moment. She was there with me, right? The blonde sighed again, then giggled quietly, remembering Willow popping the olives she had given her into her mouth. Such a beautiful mouth. Tara thought. I wonder what she likes for breakfast... The pause was brief before Tara rose from bed to find out.