WARNING: This story is rated NC-17.  NC-17 means no one under the age of 18 may read it, according to the LAW.  If you are under the age of 18 please leave this site now.  You can find my PG, PG-13 and R rated works here.
_____________________________________________________________________

Notes: Written for the Faith Ficathon 2004 by request.

“And then we pull the strap tight...” Faith’s brows lilt with a playful curve, dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys her lover with a long, devouring look.

“Are you sure—“ Tara begins, but Faith lays a finger against her lips, quieting her. Faith slowly drags her finger down Tara’s lower lip, letting it pull, then leans to kiss it and catch it between her teeth before it can completely escape.

“Shh.”

Fire snakes through Tara’s belly, slow, coiling heat that ripples through her like a delicious shudder. She stills herself, taking shallow breaths and swallowing hard. They’ve never done this before, but she’s been with Faith long enough to know what her lover likes, what she expects. Still, it’s very, very hard not to twist with impatience as the Slayer takes her time, seeming to delight in Tara’s silent torment, vinyl strap pulling taut against the flesh of her wrists, tying it off as if she had all time in the world, as if Tara weren’t lying there nearly naked in her silk panties, arms extended above her head and tied to the bed, breathless with anticipation and hot and slick between her thighs.

“There.” Faith leans back to admire her work, a smirk curving her full lips. Long, dark hair shivers across the skin of Tara’s shoulder, raising goose bumps as it tickles against her, and then there are warm lips against her neck, teeth teasing and tongue stroking in slow, languorous circles against the pulse of her throat. “All tied up like a hot—“

Her breath dances over the arch of Tara’s neck, and Tara turns her head, stretching and exposing skin as if in supplication.

“—sexy—“

Dark nails scratch over her belly, tracing lazy trails as they tease down the curve of her waist. Rough fingers grasp the hollow of her hip and dig deep, forcing a tiny gasp of surprise from deep within her chest.

“—little Christmas present.”

Tara stiffens against the bed, heart hammering in her ribcage, breath catching in her throat with a slight whimper as Faith’s hands dip lower, under her body, tracing the curve of her ass through thin silk before cupping it in her palms and squeezing tight. Fingernails dig into tender flesh, not enough to really hurt her, but just enough to make her hiss with sudden pain and arch her back. She can feel slick wetness flood between her thighs, hot with need.

“Ah, ah,” Faith says, and nips at her stomach. Preternaturally strong arms take hold of her hips and lock her into place, motionless, and she whimpers again, trying to struggle. Futile, and Faith knows it. She can almost feel those sinful lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“Can’t have you moving around,” Faith whispers and slides lower, leather pants crinkling in the breathless silence. A smile pulls at the corner of her blackberry painted lips as she glances up, sly and slow. “You’re dripping wet.” Staring up at Tara with dancing dark eyes, Faith licks her through the thin cover of her panties, and Tara turns her face, moaning into her shoulder.

The heat—God,  Faith’s mouth is so hot and she’s already soaked, panties wet and clinging to her lower lips like second skin.

“God, you taste so good,” Faith says, taking another slow, languorous lick. Tara moans and tries to thrust her hips upward, eager for that wicked, talented tongue against her bare clit—but the straps pulled through the headboard and the hands on her hips hold her firmly in place, and she only trembles like a bowstring against her lovers body.

“You wanna taste, baby?” she asks, and Tara gasps, arching her back as Faith slips a hand inside her drenched panties. Two fingers slide inside her slick walls with ease, delicious sensation sending shivers and tiny bursts of pleasure coursing through her body. Her clit aches with need, and Faith answers, sliding her thumb over it for one brief, blissful moment. Then Faith presses up and outward, pushing against the tiny cluster of nerves on the upper wall, and Tara nearly screams, biting down on her lower lip to hold back the sound as the sensation surges through her body, filling her head with liquid fire, feeling as if she might explode if she’s not very, very quiet. A quick moment, surging and then gone again, and fingers slide from her with slow leaving, teasing her one torturous millimeter at a time until at last they pull free, leaving her whimpering with need.

Faith slides up her body and kisses her mouth again, claiming it with the faint taste of her own arousal, and then, between the hungry tangle of lips and tongue, Faith’s fingers slip inside, painting her lips and then her tongue with the taste of her body even as she kisses it away. Tara arches up into her lover again, the taste of her own juices driving her into a wild crescendo of painful desire.

Faith smiles and sits back, surveying Tara with a quiet smile for a long moment, then raises her arms and peels the t-shirt from her body. A moment later, her full breasts hang free and her fingers have moved on to the zipper at her waist. Like a cat, she arches, leather pants pulling free in one smooth, twisting motion, and then she’s naked before Tara, wearing nothing but her hair and her teasing smile. She leans over, reaching for something beside the bed, and Tara lets her eyes drift closed.

There are a few small sounds, the motion of Faith moving around as she situates something, but mostly Tara is left to the windstorm inside her body, the aching need that pulses frantically, acutely aware of every nerve in her body as it sings and thrums, each one begging to be touched, licked, stroked.

Faith touches her again, fingers stroking lightly down her hips, and Tara’s eyes flutter open. Her lover smiles, and reaches up, hooking one finger inside the waist of Tara’s panties. “Do you trust me?”

Tara tilts her head to the side, hair falling over to cover one cheek, and stills suddenly, the ache between her thighs subsiding for just a moment, forgotten as she meets her lover’s eyes.

“I do.”

Faith presses a tiny kiss against her belly, and rests her forehead against the soft curve there. “Do you love me?”

A slow, warm smile creases Tara’s lips, and she wishes her hands were free so she could stroke that beautiful, long dark hair. “You know I do,” she murmurs, her heart caught up in the words.

“Tell me.” The words are small, a tiny whisper that Tara can hardly hear or believe.

“I love you,” she says, and in the space of a few seconds she’s gone from the edge of screaming in frustration and need to the verge of tears.

Faith is still for a long moment, and then lifts her head to meets Tara’s eyes again. “Are you sure you wanna do this, baby?”

One corner of Tara’s mouth lifts in a crooked smile. “I want to do everything with you.”

Faith holds her gaze for a long moment, and although she doesn’t speak the words, Tara can read them reflected in her warm, dark eyes. Then Faith nods, kisses her belly again, and then Tara’s panties are gone, Faith’s tongue trailing in their wake as she slides the slick silk down her lover’s body. Tara gasps and bucks against her, arching her hips, but Faith’s too good, too fast, and her mouth has returned to kissing Tara’s almost before Tara can move.

Faith’s hands are in her hair, tangling there, pulling there, mouths dancing and tasting in a slow, heated rhythm, devouring Tara until she doesn’t know where her own skin begins and Faith’s ends. And then she gasps, shocked from the moment as Faith slides inside her. Warm plastic fills her, joined to her lovers hips by a thin harness that digs into her hips as she thrusts and moans against her lover sliding in and out with the same slow, sinuous rhythm as her kisses.

Tara wraps her legs around Faith, her body arching upward and thrusting back move for move, give and take, and she can feel herself getting close, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Faith pulls her from her body, floating up into the sky, leaving the earth and the bed far behind.

“Not yet, baby,” Faith whispers and kisses her again. Faith slides from her, leaving her empty and moaning in desperation again, and Faith puts a hand on her face, thumb pressing against the corner of her lips, so swollen from their kisses. Faith’s other hand drifts lower, and she raises one of Tara’s legs up, pressing a kiss against her calf before resting it on her shoulder. She traces a slow trail up Tara’s other calf with her tongue before settling it on her other shoulder, and then looks down at her lover, flushed and breathing hard with her own need.

“You’re sure?” she asks one more time, and Tara feels something fragile in her heart shift, on the verge of breaking. She can’t find the words, lost between her consuming need and her overwhelming love, and she only nod her head to answer. Faith nods back, turning her head to kiss Tara’s knee, and then there is a new sensation as Faith uses her other hand to guide the strap on against the tiny rosebud of her ass.

Slick with wetness, the phallus nudges inside her tight opening with ease, parting the elastic ring with a delicious pressure and friction that makes Tara gasp and her legs tense.

Faith nudges another fraction of an inch and stops, her eyes hungry and seeking as she watches her lover’s face. “Does it hurt?”

“No. God… it feels…”

Faith smiles and leans down, claiming Tara’s lips with a long, tender kiss, her hips moving slowly as she slides inside Tara’s body one, slow, endless millimeter at a time. Tara gasps again and her hands twist, pulling against the vinyl strap, and she cries out in frustration, wanting to put her hands on Faith’s hips and guide her, wanting to dig her nails deep into Faith’s back and crush her lover against her. And then Faith stops, resting against the bottom of her, and she’s full, God, so full, and it feels like nothing she’s ever imagined and she wants Faith to move, to touch her, wants her hands all over her and—

“Just stay still for a second,” Faith whispers and nuzzles her cheek against Tara’s. “Get used to it.”

“I want… Oh God… I want…”

“I know,” Faith smiles and kisses her again. She sits back again, and her hands glide down Tara’s body, finger coming to rest with gentle pressure against her clit. Tara cries out and gasps, trying to arch upward, and Faith presses her other hand against Tara’s belly, holding her still. “Let me do this,” she says, and then her body begins to move again, sliding backward. The sliding out doesn’t feel as good as the sliding in, and Tara gasps in surprise at the slight pain, but then Faith’s fingers are moving over her clit, swirling over the slick skin in quick, smooth circles, and Tara’s lost again.

It’s almost too much, this delicious friction, tickling and teasing nerves she’d never suspected existed, and Faith just keeps moving in that same slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers flying over Tara’s clit until she’s nothing but an aching need of flesh, a conflagration of girl beneath her lover’s touch.

Her orgasm comes over her so fast and hard that she’s caught up in it almost before she’s aware of it, and then the world disappears in a white-hot haze as her hips buck against her lover, and her head fills with a rainbow of color that leaves behind spots that bloom like tiny explosions and flowers until there is nothing but the sweet spasm of muscles that push strangely against the thin wall in her body, tightening and releasing against the phallus inside her and drawing out new sensations that make her cry out and nearly scream with pleasure.

“That’s it baby,” Faith whispers, her voice ragged and filled with heat. “God you’re so hot when you come.” Tara can’t see her, can barely hear her through the grip of pleasure her body is caught in. “I think I wanna see that again.”

Faith’s fingers slide inside her slick pussy, filling Tara completely as she moves in and out with fingers and hips, and Tara does scream this time, hips rising up off the bed, taut and trembling and shaking as Faith presses against that bundle of nerves on the inside again, and she’s so full and God, she’s never been this full and it feels so good, like nothing ever—

Faith circles her thumb over Tara’s clit and she explodes. There are no colors this time, no thought, nothing but this exquisite moment of pleasure, her head thrashing back and forth between her shoulders as ragged cries erupt from deep within her, pure pleasure so great it verges on pain given raw form in her unbridled screams.

When at last it subsides she is boneless and spent, melting into the bed, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe as the aftershocks ripple through her body. Faith pulls slowly from her, urging the slow ripples of pleasure, and she twists her hips, whimpering, trembling, on the verge of breaking, unable to stand anymore.

A moment later, her hands are free, and she brings them up around Faith, pulling her lover down close against her chest, still shaking.

“I love you,” Tara whispers, and Faith smiles, leaning up to kiss her softly.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I just gave you the two best orgasms of your life.” Faith grins, and Tara can’t help but grin back.

“You just wait until I get my breath back.”

“Oh yeah?” Faith arches a lazy, teasing brow at her. “What happens then?”

“Then it’s your turn.”

“Think you can take me?”

“I know I can,” Tara says and twines her arms tight around Faith’s body. “When I can breathe again,” she adds and laughs.

“If you ever can,” Faith teases and encircles her with her arms, pulling her closer.

For a little while, they lay there together, quiet, content and loved, and then Faith whispers, so low she almost has to strain to hear.

“I love you.”

Sometimes, Tara thinks it a wonder she can breathe at all.

[ short stories ]    [ epics ]    [ btvs / ats fic ]    [ x-men fic ]    [ feedback ]    [ home ]