Disclaimers/Author's Notes: See Part 1.
Buffy, Giles, Xander, Anya, and Riley all responded with due energy and concern to Willow's dark humor and wry understatement. She had said only that she had decided to end things with Oz and that this was what had precipitated his transformation. Now, on their way to the Scooby meeting, Willow gave voice to her fears. In so doing, she felt the full brunt of another fear: that Tara would find her anxiety a sign of weakness, or uncertainty about their relationship.
"It's like, I wanna be all, 'I'm here, I'm queer, I lick her a lot, get used to it,' but-" She stopped suddenly, facial hue matching their high school mascot. "I mean, 'I like her a lot, get used to it.' Oh, jeez, I can't even get my gay pride slogans right." She let out a sharp sigh of frustration. "I mean, I hate that I'm scared to tell the others. They've never made any gay jokes, and I really can't imagine any of them being mean or stupid. And-hello-experienced demon fighter and deeply motivated Wiccan here. What's there to be afraid of?" She couldn't bring herself to look at Tara, and suddenly, she wished they'd taken a much longer route to Giles' house, one that included a nice long look at the Florida Everglades.
"Sweetie, I don't think you're worried that they'll suddenly freak out and call you awful names. I think you're afraid that things will change."
"Which is silly, I know, because they won't."
"Of course they will. Whether anybody wants them to or not, things will change. Being with a woman isn't all of who you are, Willow, but it is a part. And if the world were different, things wouldn't have to change but people still carry around all these expectations and assumptions and so when we don't match them, things change. And these people have always known you as a heterosexual. So it'll be like...like they've always known that they could buy you chocolate for your birthday and you'd love it but now you're telling them you've developed a taste for cinnamon." Tara paused and looked at her. Willow didn't think she'd ever heard Tara hold forth about a subject in the way that she just had. Tara blushed as if reading her thoughts.
"God, just shut me up if I sound like I'm telling you what your experience will be like. I'm just...I just want you to have some idea about what this will be like and who knows if it'll be anywhere close to what I'm describing. So...Shutting up now."
Willow stopped, and pulled Tara around to face her. "No, it's good to hear what you're thinking, because everything you said makes sense. I just..." She trailed off uncertainly.
"What?"
"I just don't want to disappoint you by being afraid, and I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of you."
"Well, that's important, honey, because you know of course that when I came out, I did so with complete confidence and poise."
"Really? Oh jeez, see I knew it; I knew you'd think I was a total, five-alarm chicken; the fowlest of the fowl. I could have told you-"
"Willow, honey, that's called irony. You learned it in junior high." Tara stopped, and gave her a gentle smile. "I know you're scared, and I understand why. And I definitely know you're not ashamed of me. I guess there's some part of me that wants to tell you it's OK if you decide not to tell them, but I can't. It's...It's too hard for me to hold onto p-pride in myself to be an ongoing secret in your life. Not pride about b-being gay, but about being somebody w-worth loving." She stopped as her mouth twisted with what Willow suspected were memories of a life-time of denigration and mockery.
Oh, goddess...Nothing is worse than her feeling like this. Anything that happens with the gang will pass, but this, for her... No, I won't be a part of that. I can do this.
"Tara? Baby?" Tara looked up from under her mantle of hair. Willow could see that she was chewing the inside of her mouth. "Tara, I'm telling them. Just stand by me and please don't think less of me if I stammer my way through it."
"Willow-I don't think I can be with you if you stammer." A small half-smile flickered over her lips. "I need to be with someone w-with perfect diction and elocution."
"Well, as long as we're clear about our expectations. Because I need to be with someone who's a linear thinker and gets right to the point when she speaks."
An hour later, as oxygen finally began to work its way back into her lungs and she could actually feel her legs again, Willow took stock of her disclosure and the ensuing reactions. All in all, it wasn't as bad as she had feared. Buffy, of course, already knew and could tell when Willow began speaking that she was going to tell the gang about her relationship with Tara. So she had moved discreetly to Willow's other side to offer all the non-verbal support she could. Though Riley had helped hang the Lesbian Alliance banner at school, she still felt inexplicably concerned about his response. She realized abruptly, however, that she had been making some pretty sweeping generalizations about him as a naïve country boy. Hugging her, he had whispered in her ear, "You know, we do have lesbians in Iowa. It's not just an urban chic thing."
Giles had stunned them all by not cleaning his glasses. More than she had given him credit for, Giles considered the love that she felt to be the most important aspect of her disclosure. "I'm so very happy for you," he murmured as he pulled her into a warm embrace. "You deserve to be loved for the remarkable person you are."
Anya insisted that she had known all along, giving numerous examples of lesbian couples she had known over the millennium of her life. She also made it clear that she probably knew far more about lesbian sex than either of them and that she would be more than happy to share that knowledge in the form of either a lecture or, more effectively, a live demonstration. At this, Giles not only cleaned his glasses but took that opportunity to phone his optometrist and set up an appointment to discuss a new prescription.
Xander was uncharacteristically quiet. "Wow, Will-so, look at you, all with the lesbian relationship that's lesbian in nature. Did I mention 'wow'?" After a moment of blinking rapidly and grinning in a blindingly insincere fashion, he added, "So congratulations are definitely in order. And to that I say, congratulations!"
The group then turned to the more somber task of mapping out a strategy for dealing with Oz should he not change back quickly.
"From everything Willow's saying, I think she's probably right. I think he's probably already reverted back to his human form and he's somewhere trying to sort all of this out," Giles opined.
"I hope you two are right, but what if you're not? What if Oz stays a man who runs with the wolves?" Buffy inquired reluctantly. A momentary silence greeted this, and then Willow said, "I think we should try to find him. Just to be on the safe side. Besides..." She paused, feeling Tara's eyes sharpen upon her. "I need to talk to him." She held up a hand to forestall the rush of protests. "I'm not saying that I go out and find him in some secluded place and hope he understands. But I can't pretend that we don't need to talk. Not to discuss any chance of getting back together, but just...I mean, you guys get that, right?"
Tara spoke up first, and most decisively. "Yes. I get that. Let's just find a way to make it safe, OK?"
Willow nodded quickly. "Oh yeah. I'm all about safe. I mean, when I'm not patrolling for vampires or pulling souls back into bodies or averting apocalypsi. Or whatever the plural of 'apocalypse' is."
"Let's find him first, OK?" Buffy suggested with a shake of her head. "And Willow, before you talk to him, you check in with me and we'll make sure that there's lots of back-up."
Willow nodded quietly. She hated the idea of needing back-up to talk to Oz; then again, she hated the idea of being shredded alive even more.
Xander finally found his voice as the official part of the meeting wrapped up and everyone moved off into the kitchen in search of new snacks. Tugging gently at her arm, he edged the two of them off to the side of the living room.
"Look, Will...I don't know how to say this, but..." He had difficulty meeting her eyes, and dug his fists further into his pockets.
Willow felt her stomach clench slightly. "Well, Xander, just start with little words and sound out the big ones." She tried to smile, and felt it stop half-way along her cheeks.
"OK. Well, it's just...It's just..."
"Just what? Just about time for lunch? Just an old-fashioned love song? Spit it out before I hit menopause." She could feel the anger edge into her voice. Xander had always had more than his share of opinions on everyone else's actions; so much so that he frequently came up short in evaluating his own.
"Willow, it's like this. Oz left so freakin' suddenly, and it just about killed you. And Tara's such a nice girl and all..."
"Yes, Xander, wonderfully nice. Her breasts are especially wonderfully nice." Part of her couldn't believe she was speaking that way; part of her kept hoping Xander would stop being a bear of such small brain.
"OK, Willow, now before you bite my head off, just let me finish. You can't deny that Oz leaving hurt you a lot. And before Oz..." He fumbled again, finally looking her in the eye. "Before Oz, you were in love with me, and I know that I hurt you."
Willow's eyes widened as she caught his monumentally narcissistic drift; then she leaned in closer and peered at him as if he were a new and spectacularly ill-advised life form. "Oh my God," she choked out, unsure whether to slug him or laugh in his face. She opted for Door Number Three.
"Tara? Honey? Can you come in here?" Xander looked at her with confusion in his eyes. Seconds later, Tara emerged from the kitchen.
"What is it?" The edge of concern in her voice told Willow that she knew Willow was agitated about something.
"Tara, Xander thinks he made me gay."
"Geez, Willow-I was trying to have a private conversation," the beet-faced naif hissed.
"Hey-this is big stuff. Not to be taken lightly. Tara certainly deserves to know how you figure into all of this, doesn't she?" Willow felt equal parts anger, disappointment, and amusement. She could sense Xander's consternation rolling off of him in waves, particularly after the others started filing into the living room to catch the latest installment of "Xander Makes a Big Mistake."
Willow obliged them with a review of recent events. "Xander was just telling me that he thinks I probably turned to women out of my deep and abiding longing for him."
"Did you?" Anya asked. "I don't think it really works that way."
Willow shrugged. "Well, I didn't think so, but what do I know? I have to consider the possibility that Xander is indeed the alpha and omega of my sexual orientation."
"OK, guys? A little explanation here, and a whole lotta back-pedaling, now that I think about it. I was just...I mean, she's been hurt bad by a couple of men and Tara's all sweet and kind and...and, you know, I just thought maybe..."
"That she was the default option? A gentle soul who can cuddle with me and help me heal from those mean boys?"
"That's not what I mean; at least, what I meant didn't sound so stupid in my head."
Caught up in her own indignation, Willow said without thinking, "Maybe you'd like to hear what we did last night, and then you can judge how kind and innocuous it all was." Catching herself, she wheeled in horror and looked at Tara. The gentle blue eyes were wide with shock.
"Tara, baby...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so...so blunt. I just-"
"It's OK, sweetie. I just think that m-maybe the video tape w-we made would be more helpful." And with that, Willow got one more clue into just how intricate Tara really was. She grinned exuberantly at her now-slightly-blushing lover.
"It's true, Xander," Buffy chimed in. "After you and Cordelia broke up, she turned to women for comfort. Actually, she moved to LA to join a lesbian convent-or is that redundant?"
"I guess it's true," Willow noted sadly. "The only heterosexual woman in Sunnydale is the woman who sleeps with Xander. All others heal their burning desires with the safe companionship of a woman." She turned to Anya. "Congratulations, satisfied heterosexual woman. Truly, the gift of passion is yours."
"Oddly enough," Anya replied without a trace of irony, "I've felt a stronger pull to women in the last year than I have at any other point in my most definitely extended life."
"OK, fine." Xander held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "I was way off-base. I had no right to question your life, Willow. I'm sorry." Willow felt a small measure of lenience edge back into her heart at Xander's abject remorse. "I have so very, very much to learn." He looked at her ruefully. "Can I have a do-over on the congratulations part? As in, congratulations. I'm happy for you. Tara seems fantastic."
Leaning toward him, Willow muttered softly, "You know that in my mind, I'm barfing on your shoes right now." But she smiled as she said it.
"Yes. Of course. As well you should."
She gave him a hug that was actually something of a hybrid between a warm embrace and a slap on the head...not easy to pull off, but then she was just learning what kinds of wonderful tricks her hands could pull off.
Giles had remained silent throughout this recent exchange, but as Willow pulled back away from her oldest friend, she saw the Watcher gazing at them with an odd expression on his face. Willow stared in growing curiosity as he began to walk toward them.
"Xander, as you spoke so passionately, so convincingly just a moment ago, I was forced to realize that I've been living a lie." Giles' voice was low and urgent. "The stirring in my loins told me that I, too, have fallen under the power of your sexual magnetism. Kiss me, man--for the love of God, kiss me!"
The meeting, having nowhere to go but down after this scene, disbanded soon after.
Part 5
"You know, of all the sentences I thought I might h-hear today, none of them included Mr. Giles using the phrase 'stirring in my loins.' That one might stay with me for a long, long time." They were walking back from the Scooby meeting.
"And, holy phallocentrism, Cat Girl-can you believe Xander? Honestly, does he really think he's that irresistible?" The radius of Willow's hand gestures was directly proportional to her emotional agitation, and an estimated compass reading suggested that right now she was Filled With Righteous Indignation.
"Actually, sweetie, I don't think he thinks he's irresistible at all. I mean, I kinda figure that's wh-why he looks so hard for any sign that he's attractive to anyone at all."
Willow paused on the steps to Tara's dorm. "But he has Anya, and she makes it pretty clear that they enjoy carnal knowledge on a daily basis."
"Well, yeah," Tara acknowledged, tugging on the heavy door to the building. "But don't you think Anya's kind of, um..."
"Rude? Socially clueless to the point of stupefaction? Surprisingly able to pay for basic necessities in light of the fact that she apparently holds no job and certainly can't have any savings?"
"Well, I suppose 'yes' to all those things...But I was thinking more along the lines of, um, not being particularly discerning with regard to her choice of intimate partners."
"Oh-you mean easy. Loose. Spends more time with her legs in the air than a professional tight-rope walker."
"Uh, yeah." Tara slid her key into her lock and pushed open the door. "So I don't know how special he feels to her; you know, how irreplaceable."
Willow considered this, and began to think that her girlfriend had a good point. Sometimes she had to remind herself that Tara didn't consider herself to be socially adept-she was probably the most discerning yet charitable judge of character that Willow had ever met.
"Dr. Maclay, I think you may have hit upon the patient's underlying issues. I wonder if I might make a personal appointment with you to discuss my own...needs. That is, if you have any openings."
"Oh, I could certainly make myself open for you. I'm sure I could fit you in." Tara looked equal parts innocent country girl and colossal slut.
Oh my God, she's a total closet vixen. Out lesbian, closet tart. The thought was a wonderful one. She grinned and moved into Tara's arms.
"So here we are, all freshly showered, or at least showered within the last three hours, and at least moderately fed, and-oh my gosh-all alone in your room that you share with absolutely no one whatsoever. Whatever shall we do?" Was that even remotely sexy, or funny? Is it a bad idea to try both of those at once, like swing dancing to a Gregorian chant?
But Tara was looking at her with a crooked, widening grin, and her eyes were darkening slightly. "Are you trying to seduce me, Ms. Rosenberg?"
"Oh God, yes. Is it working? 'cuz I know I'm about as subtle as Tom Green's humor but the fact is, I really, really wanna make love with you very soon; in fact, now-ish works really well for me, so howzabout it-do I fall into the 'At Least Moderately Compelling' category of seductiveness?"
Tara brushed her fingers over Willow's lips. "Close these for right now," she murmured gently. Then she draped a soft kiss on each of Willow's eyelids. "And close these for right now, too."
Willow held herself as quietly as she could, willing herself not to talk or to peek at Tara for reassurance. She felt Tara's lips, soft and full, upon her cheek and then just at the edge of her ear. "I love you, Willow. You can seduce me by walking into a room. Just...just try to turn down the volume on some of those channels in your mind, and listen to what your heart and your senses tell you." With that, Tara guided Willow's index and middle fingers to the pulse point in the hollow of her throat.
"Do you feel that? Do you feel how my heart beats for you?" Willow swallowed and nodded once.
After a moment, Tara slid Willow's palm just inside the now-unbuttoned top of her shirt and over her heart. "And that? Do you feel my heart under your hand? So strong, for you?" Again, Willow only nodded.
Tara guided her hand under her bra, so that Willow's fingers grazed over her nipple-swollen, and hard. "Do you feel that, Willow? The minute we walked in the door, I felt my breasts start to ache for your fingers, and your mouth. Feel it, Baby. Feel how full I am for you." Her voice was growing thicker. Willow was unable to stop-or maybe she didn't really want to stop-the half-moan that slipped out of her. Still unseeing, and now silent once more, she stroked Tara's breast and rolled her nipple gently between her thumb and forefinger, now deeply attuned to Tara's breathing-its shallowness, and the catch when Willow cupped her breast fully in her hand and squeezed with greater urgency. Willow heard another sound, too, though she wasn't sure what created it. It was a slight rustling, and she could feel Tara's weight shifting slightly.
And then Tara had taken her other hand, and was easing it slowly but insistently inside of her pants and under the hem of her panties. Willow swallowed hard, and felt the dampness of Tara's soft curls. Tara's hand glided to her wrist, and she gave a final guiding push, and Willow's fingers had slid into Tara's wetness. At this, she didn't even attempt to stop herself from groaning. She opened her eyes to find Tara looking at her, heavy-lidded, with unabashed need.
"Yes, Love," Tara whispered softly, hands sliding to Willow's shoulders as she rocked herself into Willow's hand. "Yes, I find you just about more seductive than I can even describe."
Willow could keep silent no longer. "Oh god, Tara. I just get so crazy-hot thinking about you; I have for months now. And now I know how you feel, and taste..." With that, she stroked two fingers over Tara's clit, and felt her lover buckle against her. "Now that I know it, I feel like it's all I want to do. I know I shouldn't just be thinking of myself right now but I can't help it. I-I feel angry at the idea of anything taking our attention off of each other."
Tara's eyes were the dark cobalt she'd seen last night. "And you think I don't? Right now I don't care that we're on a Hellmouth and I don't care about the forces of evil and I don't want to think about any battles to save the world. You're my world, and right now fighting evil feels like something I do to spend time with you." With a reluctant half-gasp, she edged Willow's hand away from her and began to back over to the bed. Willow paused only long enough to slide her fingers into her mouth and taste Tara's incredible sweet wetness, and then she was following Tara, who had sat down on the bed and pulled off her boots and socks. Willow balanced awkwardly on first one leg and then the other, pulling off her own tennis shoes. She stood before Tara, feeling an almost painful mixture of desire and hesitation. She wanted this, so much; but now, in the daylight, looking into Tara's eyes, she felt the old fear of making a mistake, of being inept or inadequate or just wrong, somehow.
Suddenly she felt Tara's hands on her belly, slowly edging lower to where Willow knew her jeans were soaked with her wetness. Her thumbs rubbed gently over the fabric and pushed into Willow's folds. Tara looked up at her, running her tongue slowly over her lips.
"Take it, Willow; take what's yours. I'm giving it to you." Her voice choked slightly, and then she said simply, "Take me."
The permission given was taken, urgently. Willow pulled Tara to her feet and slid her fingers into the soft golden hair that she loved so much; without preamble or subtlety she brought Tara's mouth to her own and kissed her so fiercely that her lips ached. She plunged her tongue across Tara's soft lips and stroked into her hungrily. She felt almost dizzy with want, and all of the voices in her head had quieted, and distilled into a single insistent thread that existed only to have Tara, right now.
She wanted to be gentle. No, actually she didn't. She felt like she should be gentle, and slow. Wasn't that the right way to make love? And she did love Tara; she wanted to be the perfect lover for her. So why did everything in her right now want to abandon gentleness, abandon slowness and just devour her lover?
But then Tara's hands had edged under her shirt and Willow suddenly felt her nails dragging down her back. Tara's mouth slid down to her throat and her teeth closed over her neck with surprising force, just for a moment. And then Tara echoed, close to her ear, "I'm giving it to you."
Her breath shallow and ragged, Willow pulled Tara back to her lips and then her fingers were tugging at the opening at the top of Tara's shirt. Almost unable to believe her own actions, she gave into the temptation of her own impatience and yanked Tara's shirt open. She heard buttons pop and roll to the floor. She had never felt such an ache, such a desire to take and ravish and just have.
Any doubts she may have had about Tara's response to her actions were drowned by the groan that came from her as Willow simply shoved her bra up for the moment and began to squeeze her breasts. She pressed them together, stroking her thumbs over the taut nipples. Finally, she reached behind Tara and worked to unsnap the bra, even as her mouth descended on Tara's breasts and she sucked one swollen nipple into her mouth.
"Hurry, Willow. God, please don't make me wait long." With that, Willow dropped to her knees and began to yank Tara's pants down to her ankles, where Tara shook them away from her. Before she had even stood fully, Willow had tugged her own shirt over her head, and then slid her bra over her arms. Finally, she shucked her pants down and stepped out of them. She pushed Tara back down onto the bed, kneeling over her a second later.
"Roll over," she whispered insistently. "I want to kiss your back."
Tara obliged, repeating thickly, "Please don't make me wait." Once Tara was stretched out on her stomach, Willow lowered herself against her back, feeling her breasts push and flatten into the surprising muscularity. Tara groaned; Willow bit her lip with the exquisite sharpness of the sensations. She kissed Tara's neck fiercely and then began to lick across the expanse of her back. She could feel her own wetness slipping out of her as she rubbed herself slowly over Tara's ass. She found herself thinking dimly that she could probably come just from this.
And then an image came into her mind; and she knew only that she wanted to experience it. Dragging herself away from Tara's back, she leaned back on her knees, one leg on either side of Tara's left one. Tara looked back at her questioningly. For a response, Willow reached down and slid her hands under Tara, low on her belly. She tugged insistently, urging Tara onto her hands and knees.
"Goddess, Tara, you're so beautiful." It was all she could say before edging forward and sliding her fingers into Tara's wetness. Tara gave a small cry and rocked forward slightly; and then she pushed back against Willow's hand, as two fingers found her opening and thrust into her. Willow slid her other hand along Tara's back and then down and over her full breast, swaying heavily.
Willow edged forward once more until her own wetness was painfully close to Tara's hip. She removed her hand from Tara's breast just long enough to part her lips and press herself against Tara's flesh; and then she was squeezing and cupping Tara's full breast again. And still Tara rocked back against her, letting Willow fill her as much as she could.
Oh God, it's so good. She's so open, and so wet. It's so easy to slide in and out of her. I need this; ah, sweet goddess... She watched, vision blurred with the heat of her aching, as Tara's back rippled and arched under her. She swallowed heavily as she watched Tara's ass pushing back against her hand; she saw her own fingers disappear into Tara's clenched opening. After a moment, she brought her other hand away from Tara's nipple and down her belly and still lower; and then she was massaging Tara's swollen clit with hungry, insistent fingers while the fingers of her other hand continued to plunge into Tara. At this, Tara dropped her head to the pillow and whimpered; but then she had arched her back again, tossing her head from side to side.
"Willow...Oh goddess, yes; it's..." Willow could see Tara biting her lip as she struggled to find the words. "Having you in me; filling me..." Willow could feel sweat forming on her forehead, trickling its way down over her eye brows and into her eyes. She shook her head, wanting to see every stroke of her hand, every twisting of Tara's body. Her own clit was sliding easily, wetly over the soft swell of Tara's hip. Every time she pumped into Tara, she felt the stroking of her clit. Every time Tara pushed back against her, she felt it. She was having difficult focusing entirely on Tara's pleasure, because she could feel her own climax building.
Suddenly Tara's movements slowed; Willow wondered briefly if Tara needed a different kind of touch. But then she heard Tara whisper hoarsely, "Don't stop; oh...It's-Oh, it's building; I'm so close." With the stilling of Tara's movements, Willow's own clit was barely stroked, but it helped her concentrate more fully on thrusting into Tara as deeply and fully as possible; it helped her focus on the slippery stroking of Tara's clit. Tara rocked back and forth, so quiet that Willow could barely hear her labored breathing. And then she pumped herself onto Willow's hand more forcefully, more quickly, and as she did so Willow felt her own clit surge. She knew Tara was coming; even after one night she was learning to recognize the signs and she saw them: saw the tightening of Tara's body, the hitched breathing; the barely audible moans-and then she felt Tara come, a long shudder ripping through her body as she clenched around Willow's hand, coming around her fingers with heated spasms. And with that shuddering, Willow's own clit throbbed, and she ached to touch herself. As Tara's body slowly stilled, she whispered, "Pull out of me, Baby. And Willow-do it; I can feel how wet you are."
"Are you sure?"
"Willow, I want to grind into you. I want to feel you come against me." Groaning, Willow slid her fingers out of Tara's tight, wet opening and away from her clit. She used the fingers of one hand to spread herself open and then braced herself against Tara's back as she quickly stroked her clit, pumping her hips urgently against Tara's ass. Looking down, she saw Tara's breasts swaying beneath her as she rotated her hips back against Willow's own wetness. It was happening; so fast, but so good...
"Tara; Baby I'm coming. I can't stop. I'm gonna come..."
"Yes, Willow. Let me feel it. Let me feel you come." With the words, Willow's back arched forward and her clit surged once more, throbbing with the force of her climax. Wetness poured from her; trickled down Tara's leg; and still she ground herself against the smooth flesh.
Finally, she felt the last shimmering of her orgasm flicker. She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss against Tara's back, and then edged around and stretched out on the bed, pulling Tara down to her.
They kissed in deep, lazy strokes and nips, nuzzling each other's lips and smiling against one another. Willow battled a sense of embarrassment at her own lewdness; she was confident that she hadn't done anything Tara didn't want, but she had quite honestly never expected to do something like rip someone's shirt off, popping the buttons in the process.
"Hey...You, love o' my life," Tara nudged her playfully. "Are you OK?"
"Oh, much-ly OK. I would take gold at the OK Olympics. I am to OK as Jerry Falwell is to closet-case." She paused, fighting an urge to bury her face against Tara's soft neck. "It's just...well, I was so...so forceful. And I was kinda surprised at just how forceful I was."
"And how much you enjoyed it?" Tara eyed her with a teasing glint.
"Well, yeah, to be honest. Tara, I ripped your shirt off. I mean, hello-what kind of lesbian does that?"
Tara propped herself up on one arm. "Willow, did I give any indication that I was feeling anything but quite pleased with what you were doing?"
Willow dipped her head slightly. "Well, no..."
"Are you saying that you'd try to rip my clothes off even if I didn't want you to?"
Willow looked up in shock. "God, no, Tara! I could never enjoy something you didn't want!" She was completely horrified at the thought.
"And I know that. Willow, this afternoon, for whatever reason, I wanted to give myself to you; I wanted you to be-to use your word-forceful. The next time we make love, I'll probably be in a completely different kind of mood; you too. And we'll let each other know what we need, and we'll make love in that particular key." She punctuated her calm words with a slow, gentle kiss.
Finally, Willow pulled back slightly and looked at her with what she knew had to be the expression of an Utterly Smitten Woman. "How did you get so wise, Baby?" She knew Tara had only had one previous sexual experience before; it sounded as it if had been comparable to her own satisfaction level with Oz.
"Heck if I know," Tara mused, looking at her with a half-smile. "I mean, here I am-a shy girl who stutters and hides behind her hair when she meets new people. And yet, barely five minutes ago I was saying things like, 'Let me feel it; let me feel you come.'" Her face flushed quickly, but she continued. "And I wouldn't take it back for all the world. It's exciting to be sexual with you, Willow. I'm tired of being so scared of my own feelings; I'm tired of walking around on eggshells. I mean, I-I'm not going to get all self-confident and poised after reading a couple of pamphlets or anything, but what we have...It's a great start."
Willow looked at her. Yes, it is I-presiding Elder of The House of Smitten. Aloud, she only said, "Think you'll get tired of hearing me say I love you?"
To which Tara, emerging slowly but resolutely into the world of cheekiness, said, "Think you'll get tired of my tongue in your mouth?"
Which told Willow that the answer to her question was a resounding no.