by: Dacia
BtVS W/T PG
WARNING : Do I need a warning if it's canon? How's about: While this story is not so much about hating the men, it is centred around the girl-on-girl action.
DISCLAIMER : I do not own the characters of BtVS they belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui… and anyone else with an army of lawyers to back them up. I do take responsibility for my defiantly Canadian/British spelling though. Vive Le Canada!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS : All right, all right, I admit it. I'm the one who owns a red polar fleece blanket, and it's absolutely fantastic for star gazing on a chilly night.
SPOILERS : None. In fact, I'm choosing to ignore the distressing tangent Joss has gone off on, and thus, I am retreating to my own happy place.
"So, you're all done?" Came a muffled question.
"Yup." Tara replied simply, content to just sit silently holding her girlfriend.
The two witches were taking advantage of one of the resources most often overlooked and abused by SoCal residents. They were at the beach. But no harsh sunlight beat down on them and the relentless din of surfers and skaters and swimmers did not engulf them. Instead, the moon hung fat and bright in the clear night sky and the ocean shifted and sparkled beneath its pale gaze. The air was pleasantly crisp and salty and contained just a trace of chill as the day's heat had long since bled away. Beneath their feet the sand was cool and tickled between their toes.
Tara was positioned behind Willow, with the redhead snuggled tightly against her chest. The blonde had her arms wrapped loosely around her girlfriend, and around them both was a well-loved, red, polar fleece blanket to ward off the mild effects of the chill night air.
"What do you think you'll take next year?" Willow asked, fidgeting slightly.
"Probably more of the same." Tara buried her face in the crook of Willow's neck and inhaled deeply; she smelled like apple shampoo and incense and something else uniquely hers.
"I think I'm going to try and squeeze in that neuroscience seminar next year, but I'm worried that my course-load will be too heavy."
Tara smiled softly and lifted her head, "I'm sure whatever you decide will be fine. I doubt there's a course-load on this planet that you couldn't handle."
"But what if…"
"Shhh…" Tara whispered, her breath brushing past Willow's ear. "Do you really want to talk about school? Here? At the beach? On this perfect night? With a full moon and no one else around for miles?" Her loose embrace tightened incrementally with each question.
Willow paused as though considering, then flashed an impish grin, "But school's one of my four favourite things to talk about."
Tara chuckled quietly and played along, "So, what are the other three?"
Willow's hands began to play with Tara's, lacing and unlacing the fingers. "Well… slaying, of course, would have to be one. What's the new oogily-boogily on the block and how do you kill it? Where are the most popular vamp hideouts? If a Graal demon crosses over from a parallel dimension should you decapitate it and live with the permanent stink? Or open an inter-dimensional portal to dispose of the body? And I suppose hacking would fit into that category too, since I'm always cracking some official database or something in search of the big bad evil."
With one fingertip, the redhead traced a slow spiral on the palm of Tara's hand. "So, we've got school and slaying." She ticked two off the list, verbally. "Next, I'd have to say that there are few things I enjoy discussing more than where precisely do all the single socks go that the washing machine eats every week. My personal theory is that one of the tubes attached to the back of the washer leads to a secret underground kingdom of gnomes. There, the socks get spit out into a room specially designed for the speedy conversion of the multitude of single socks into little gnome hats, so the gnomes can keep their little gnome ears warm, cuz sometimes it gets chilly down there."
Tara laughed softly into Willow's shoulder.
The redhead turned her head. "Hey, I'm serious," she said with mock indignation. "I like the idea that my lost socks are being put to good use. I'd hate to think that I'm buying new socks every week for no other reason than a spiteful washing machine."
The blonde nodded solemnly, and that seemed to mollify the tempestuous witch as she settled back into the circle of her arms. After a minute, when Willow had not spoken again, Tara's curiosity overcame her, "School, slaying, single socks… so, what's the last?"
Willow was very quiet, but Tara could see the upward turn of her lips from the corner of her eye. "Willow?" She prodded, her voice low and lilting.
The redhead rotated in her arms, their shared blanket falling from her shoulders. "It's you," she confided, a brilliant smile lighting her features. "You are my absolutely, most favouritest subject in the whole world." Her warm breath ghosted across Tara's parted lips with every word.
"Oh I am, am I?" Tara teased with a sultry grin.
Willow's green eyes glinted merrily, "Yup. In fact, last semester in my Sociology of Gender class, I gave a 20 minute presentation on my idolization of the female form and what it was like having the epitome of the gender for a girlfriend."
Tara's eyes widened, "You did not!"
"Oh yes I did." The redhead's tongue poked between her teeth as she grinned widely. "I also went through your physical attributes in an easy to follow, point by point form, demonstrating their obvious superiority through a cross-cultural comparison of traditional concepts of beauty. I even had visual aids..."
"Willow!" Tara pushed out at the other witch in disbelief, toppling the slighter girl, and pinning her in the sand. Her body pressed against the redhead's length. "You did not do that! Take it back!" She laughed while issuing her demand.
"No can do. I'm sure by now, 3/4's of the campus is aware of what high regard I hold your breasts in," she waggled her eyebrows.
Tara slumped momentarily against the redhead in defeat, pillowing her head against the other girl's chest. She mused thoughtfully, "I thought something was weird. For a while there, no one seemed capable of raising their eyes above my shoulders." She propped herself back up on her elbows, gazing down at her girlfriend, "Y'know, I almost had to stop wearing vee-necks because of you."
Willow grinned in response, completely unapologetic. "So, what about you?"
"Hmm?"
Willow took advantage of the other girl's distraction to flip their positions. Now it was she who pinned Tara with the delicate weight of her body. The redhead leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her girlfriend's neck, her warm lips contrasting with the cool night air. Tara shivered. Encouraged, Willow placed a chain of kisses across Tara's clavicle as she queried, "What..." Kiss. "... is..." Kiss. "... your..." Kiss. "... favourite..." Kiss. "... subject?" Kiss. She halted her ministrations and pulled back to hear Tara's answer.
Tara looked up at Willow. The moon was behind her, illuminating her in its pale glow. "My favourite subject?" Tara drawled, tugging the other girl back down. Barely a whisper lay between their lips, and Willow smiled in anticipation. "Well... " Her breath feathered against the redhead's mouth, "... let's start with my breasts and work our way from there."
Willow was only too happy to comply.
THE END
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