Returning from Sparrow's, Part 2, NSFW
Continued from here.
"I want to make love with you, Shane," Tara whispers, her lips brushing against Shane's. She doesn't usually ask, but this is a moment of ritual. The words need to be spoken and answered. "I want to be inside you, and to have you inside me."
Shane lets out a soft, shuddering breath, nodding her head ever so slightly, unwilling to lose those tiny points of contact their lips have found. "Yes... please...." she whispers back.
Left hand still resting over the fresh black lines of the tattoo, Tara's right hand rises to cup Shane's face as she deepens the kiss, a tender brush of tongue to tongue, her hair falling to either side of Shane's face, a soft curtain that almost excludes the rest of the world, except for the glimmering star-like fairy lights that adorn the ceiling of the round room.
Instead of reaching up to draw that curtain away as she usually would, Shane simply lets it enclose her, lips curling softly at the corners as she returns the kiss, her hand sliding down over Tara's back to settle lightly over the marks at the small of her back. Completed. Whole. More soft, unhurried touches of lips, undemanding and sweetly reverent.
Tara arches her back gently, pressing into that touch, sweet painpleasure of the tattoo, like bittersweet chocolate melting underneath her skin. Shane's lips feel wonderful under hers, the softness of them a distinct contrast to the sensation at the small of her back.
Nibbling lightly on Tara's bottom lip, Shane draws her legs up, bending them at the knee as she shifts her hips on the soft carpet and wrapping her legs around Tara's waist, opening herself and drawing her wife closer at the same time. Her right hand smooths over Tara's hair but she doesn't try to tuck it back out of her face, instead she just touches, admires, appreciates...
Feeling the heat of Shane's sex against her, Tara repositions herself slightly, settling herself more deliberately over Shane. Her mouth strays for a moment, dragging soft, almost chaste lips over Shane's jaw and up to her ear, teasing the lobe with her tongue, raking gentle teeth over it before returning to Shane's mouth.
As Tara nibbles lightly at her ear, Shane's lips draw back into a tiny, sweet smile. Peace. She's never felt peace like this before in her life. Knowing, without a doubt, where she belongs and that she does belong and that she's loved and appreciated. Feeling Tara's cheek brush against hers, her smile broadens but loses none of its sweetness as she lifts her head up just slightly to meet her wife's lips.
She is held, cradled in Shane's arms and legs, above and below and around her. Shane's mark burns softly on her back, and she can feel the radiating heat of her mark on Shane in front of her. Shane's blood, that single mouthful, courses through her veins, mixing with her own, and Shane is truly touching her everywhere it is possible to be touched, places her fingers could never reach.
Dragging her fingertips up along Tara's back, she notes every contour of muscle, following them along as she draws her hand over her wife's shoulder and down along her chest, palm resting flush over her heart between them, her other hand still resting over Tara's tattoo. For the first time, it's enough. She doesn't feel the usual urgency or near-desperate hunger that she feels when she and Tara are together. That's gone, having been replaced with warmth and certainty, spreading through her and making her feel as though she must be glowing even more brightly than the candles or the softly twinkling fairy lights overhead. She's lit from inside with life and love and she only has this beautiful, wonderful woman to thank for that.
Tara's fingers explore just as slowly, tracing the counters of Shane's breast, the subtle indentation of her hip, the strong muscle of her leg. Eyes fixed on Shane's, she can't see any of the skin she's touching, but she knows it, better than she knows her own. There's a lassitude to the golden glow in her lower abdomen, perfect patience as her tongue continues to curl wetly with Shane's. She's quite content to stay this way indefinitely, kissing and caressing and never needing more.
Shane lets her eyes slide closed, a barely audible hum of delight sounding at the back of her throat as her own hand pets lightly over Tara's skin, fingertips tracing the shape and weight of her breast, relearning the texture of her nipple - not a touch meant to tease or inflame, but simply exploring. The thick carpet beneath her feels almost like a bed of soft grasses, cradling the both of them and she half expects to see a tree's branches swinging overhead as she briefly opens her eyes and looks up, but finds only the lights there when she does. This place, this moment, feels unspeakably sacred and she realizes that no words are necessary to complete this spell. All the words, all the meaning in them, is nothing when compared to this...
Sighing softly, Tara's fingers drift over the back of Shane's thigh, the soft, firm flesh of her buttocks, stroking the skin there with fingertips and then with the backs of her fingers, exploring the sensations different touches allow. There's a faint aftertaste of incense in the air, a slightly spicy, slightly musky flavour laced with sandalwood that makes this room seem like it's part of a different world. It's still day, outside, but here the stars sparkle overhead, the thick curtains over the windows shielding out the natural light, and is feels as though the earth is breathing beneath her as her body rises and falls softly with Shane's own breath.
The sense of the room as well as the spell that the two of them are completing twine themselves together, in much the way their bodies are tangled together on the floor, and create a heady, almost dreamy atmosphere. Her limbs are starting to feel slightly heavy, sluggish and not as quick to respond to her commands as they might usually. Still, she isn't frustrated by it... the feeling is merely a part of the whole experience and so she welcomes it just as she welcomes each and every touch from her wife. She slowly runs the length of her leg over Tara's leg and hip, delighting in the tickle of their skin brushing and catching as she presses dozens of feather-light kisses to Tara's lips.
Slowly, Tara's mouth begins to wander, returning those feather-light kisses to Shane in a line down the curve of her jaw, the arch of her neck, the sculpted rise of her collarbone, the space between her breasts, where hard bone covers the most vital of her organs. Softly swelling breasts brush against the sides of her face and she turns her head, rubbing her cheek more deliberately over Shane's breast, feeling the contrast between that flesh and that under her tender lips. Her skin is alive, prickling with sensitivity, and she's sure she could feel Shane's touch millimetres before it even reached her skin, so attuned does she feel to the small world they've created for themselves.
She's sensitive, very sensitive and attuned to what her body is feeling right now, but at the same time, there is still no sense of urgency despite the acuteness of her awareness. Feeling the silken skin of Tara's cheek as she nuzzles her breast causes both of her nipples to slowly peak and tighten, but her movements are lazy, languid as she runs both of her hands over Tara's shoulders and down her arms, gently squeezing and pressing as she goes and admiring the sculpted softness of her wife's body. Her own is all sharp angles and bony corners and edges but Tara is nothing but softness, every inch of her.
Tara slowly rubs her cheek over Shane's breast, again and again, feeling the change in sensation as the shape of Shane's nipple changes. She feels like a cat, rubbing up against scratching fingers. Her fingers rises, stroking the underside of the arms that are stroking her, the strength hidden by sheer relaxation.
Shane lets out a soft noise, barely a chuckle and more of a delighted hum, at Tara's touch. She unwinds her legs from Tara's waist to give her wife a bit more freedom to move, the inside of her thighs sliding along the outside of Tara's. Every sensation is like music, each touch a separate, sweet note of its own, each of them adding to the symphony. Music. They're music.
Shane's hum sings through her, a soft sound of pure joy that's echoed by Tara's own, almost silently laughter. She feels as though she is floating - not in water, that weightlessness of air, but in water, that heavy lassitude that cradles the limbs even as it holds you inexorably in place. And she is, floating on Shane, who is the ocean and the rain to her, the drink that quenches her thirst and the waves that can lift her off her feet or pound her against the rocks. For most people, the sea is something they look at and dream of - so peaceful on its surface, just as Shane is. Underneath, though, hidden in those depths are greater dangers than most people can recognise, and so people visit the ocean, long for it, watch it and dream of it - but they don't want to be in it for more than a few hours. And Tara... Tara is a mermaid. This is her home, here in the depths of Shane, the uncharted waters that so few understand. She's not jealous of the many people they come across who want her wife - how could she be, when Shane chooses her, every day? - but in a way she pities them. For whatever reason, they're not brave enough or strong enough to let go, to accept Shane's love that is so completely consuming. They fight to stay separate from her - as Kate does, though she loves Shane more than life itself - to hold something back for themselves. For Tara, there is nothing held back. Everything she is is wrapped in Shane, and giving herself so totally means she knows Shane better than any person has ever known her before.
Pressed so closely together as they are, Shane can feel that laughter even more than she can hear it and it makes her smile even brighter. Sometimes she's so sure that she'll drown, herself, caught and swept under by the weight of her own history and dragged to the depths by her ghosts, but this woman, her wife, her beloved Tara, is the life preserver she clings to, the one thing that helps her to keep her head above water... the one thing that makes her want to. It would be so easy, to let the wretched sadness of her past overwhelm her, to let it douse the tiny ember of hope she still has inside and resign herself to hopelessness. But Tara makes her want to try, makes her shelter that ember with every ounce of strength and sheer force of will that she has in her. Tara accepts her, all of her, all of her darkest corners and bleakest memories, and treasures them as a part of her, loving her truly and completely and unconditionally. The thought of loving anyone this deeply doesn't make her feel fragile or vulnerable, anymore... it makes her feel blessed. Because it means that she can know what it is to be loved, fully and utterly, and that is something that she will carry with her always.
"I love you," Tara breathes, the first words after long moments of silence, barely ruffling the stillness of the room. She kisses her way, openmouthed, around Shane's breast, the very edge of flesh that begins to rise from her ribs, chin and then nose brushing against Shane's erect nipple. The other breast gets the same treatment, interspersed with Tara's quiet declarations of love. "All you are, all you have ever been, all you will become. Maiden, Mother, Crone. I love you."
"Love you... love you so much, Tara," Shane whispers softly, her heavy-lidded eyes shining as she watches Tara's every move, hands still tenderly stroking her wife's back and shoulders and hair and face, touching every part of her wife that's within her reach. "All I was, all I've been... all I am... is for you..."
"You are whole," Tara whispers, pressing a kiss over Shane's heart, her eyelids falling shut reverently. They flutter open again to find Shane's next chakra, her solar plexus. "You are strong," she whispers, another kiss pressed gently to this spot. Sliding further down Shane's body, Tara settles her shoulders between Shane's legs and presses the softest, longest kiss yet just below her belly button. "You are important," she says, her voice still soft but inexorably firm, and this one gets a second kiss, because Tara knows it is the hardest for Shane to accept. Lower again, lips brushing just at the edge of Shane's public hair, dark curls tickling her chin as she presses this kiss into place. "You are wanted," she whispers.
"You want me..." Shane whispers back and her voice still has a wondering tone to it, but there's more understanding, acceptance of that, than there ever was before. Her eyes glow with warmth as she gently brushes her fingertips over Tara's forehead, down the slope of her nose, over her cheek. "You... you love me."
She's not finished yet, and she just nods silently as she raises herself back up over Shane's body. Pressing a kiss to the hollow of Shane's throat she whispers, "you are understood." Her eyes meet Shane's as she lifts her head, tilting her chin up to kiss the very bridge of Shane's nose, just between her eyebrows. Her tongue darts out to taste this flesh, very, very softly, as she whispers, "you are wise." Her head drops, now, lips hovering over Shane's as she whispers, "you are loved," her voice impossibly light and joyful as she brushes Shane's mouth in a kiss.
Even just a few short weeks ago, hearing these truths - and that is what they are - spoken to her so frankly and simply would have brought tears to her eyes, for the simple fact that it's everything that she has ever wanted in her life. So fundamental to who she is, these desires, these needs, that the knowledge that her journey is finally over and she has found someone who can do and be all of these things for her broke her and then put her back together all over again. There is no overwhelming surge of emotion, now, no tears... just deep, quiet gratitude and reverence and joy. "I love you, Tara," she whispers, her own voice sober and sincere, though her eyes reflect the light and joy that she hears in Tara's voice.
"I love you, Shane," Tara replies, letting herself leave behind ritual words that felt pulled from deep within her. One hand cups Shane's cheek, the tips of her fingers petting the hair at Shane's temple softly, while the other hand falls to her mark on Shane's hip. The kiss is a blessing, a benediction, a truth as sure as the words were truth. She has no illusions about Shane. Her wife isn't perfect - she's frightened and scarred, and much of the time only just holding on to the calm, peaceful, easygoing face she presents, although that, too, is truth. Far from blind to her flaws, to Tara it's like the labels on silk or leather. 'Variations in the fabric should not be regarded as flaws, but as part of the unique character of the material'. And that's what it is. Part of the unique character that is Shane, and so she loves all of it. Dark and light, strong and weak. All Shane is. She sees, understands, accepts, and loves it all.
No matter how many times she hears those words or says them, they still humble her as much as they did the first time she heard them spoken to her by her wife and she said them in return. How long ago was it? It seems almost like years ago, now... lifetimes ago. In so many ways, she's the same but in others she has been changed so greatly by the simple act of loving this woman. Leaning her head into the touch, pressing her cheek into Tara's palm, her eyes slide closed, a small smile shaping her lips even as she reaches up hands slipping up over Tara's shoulders to rest lightly on her shoulder blades, gently drawing her down. "Make love with me, Tara," she whispers as she turns her head and tips it up, parting her lips in invitation, welcome.
"Always," Tara whispers, and her lips find Shane's, her tongue finally slipping past that barrier to taste her wife again. Shane is so familiar to her, but every time is like returning home after a long absence. Her tongue strokes along Shane's, slow and sweet, her body lowering to rest her weight on Shane again, breasts crushing together.
Slowly tipping her head to one side, Shane slips her tongue beneath Tara's, curling it against the underside, coaxing her in further. Letting her hands slide down over Tara's back, she brings them around, broad palms sweeping up along her wife's sides as she suckles carefully on Tara's tongue, a low groan of delight and gratitude escaping her as she feels her weight settle, anchoring her.
Tara lets out an answering moan of pleasure as the gentle suckling on her tongue travels through her, pulling forth a desire that was never sated, only banked. Her thumb strokes in soft circles over the sensitive skin on Shane's hip, tracing the circles of her mark as her hips begin to gently rock, following the rhythm of Shane's suckling. Her free hand drifts down, trailing over Shane's side to touch her thigh, gently urging Shane to open to her again.
At that light touch, Shane spreads her legs, the soles of her feet resting flat on the soft carpet, knees bent as she looses a low, rumbling purr into the kiss. The tattoo still aches, being so new, but that sweet pain is overshadowed by the aching between her legs and her own hips grind upwards to help ease that as her hands slide back down along Tara's sides to rest on her hips.
Murmuring her own approval into the kiss, Tara's fingers slip between their bodies, her fingers starting low to coat themselves with moisture before gliding softly up and over Shane's clit, feeling Shane's pulse beat faintly through the swollen nub of nerves there. She's doesn't break contact with the tattoo, but she's careful to keep her fingers very, very gentle, conscious both of the pain in her own lower back and that the location of Shane's is already more sensitive.
Shane shivers as she feels Tara's fingers brush against her and she draws one of her legs a bit further to one side, giving Tara's hip a squeeze before slipping her hand between her wife's legs in turn. Letting out a soft, shuddering breath, her fingers slide over Tara's heated folds, nestling between them and seeking out the slickness, mirroring Tara's movements as she rolls her hips up again, inviting more of that touch.
Tara's fingers quickly find a rhythm - ducking two fingers just barely into Shane's entrance, gathering up that slickness, and gliding up to paint it over Shane's clit, stroking it with firm, moist fingers. She knows exactly what this is doing to Shane, the desire to feel her deeply, to be filled, because she's feeling it herself - but it still lacks the hungry urgency their interactions have had of late, and she drags this moment out deliberately, exploring the sensation for the moment. Shane is inside her, deeper than fingers could ever reach, and she wonders if she could isolate that sensation, diffused as it is throughout her blood.
Another involuntary breath escapes, trailing off with a low groan, breaking the kiss to bury her face in the hollow of Tara's throat, her wife's long hair falling over her face like a curtain or a veil, heavier than silk and a thousand times more precious. Nuzzling Tara's throat, she presses soft kisses to it, inhaling the perfume of her wife's skin, her hair, trying her best to concentrate on what she's doing even with those distractions and it proves difficult but she focuses on matching the insistent rhythm of Tara's fingers instead of trying to find her own, which helps.
Each return of her fingers to Shane's body brings them a little deeper, a fraction of a millimetre, taking the time to learn Shane's texture, the many and varied ripples of tissue, the way her body welcomes Tara, the faintest possible ripple of her muscles seeking to draw Tara in further - though maybe that's just her own desire. She can feel Shane's fingers pressing into her simultaneously, and she's never been as conscious of the sensations in her own body, the point at which the sensation goes from teasing to torturing, when her body demands more and her hips buck to find it.
Her movements, up until now, have been a game of mirrors with Tara, but feeling her hips buck draws a ragged moan from her own throat, as though it's her own growing hunger that has prompted the sound rather than Tara's. Tara aches and it's her own throat the pleading sounds fall from and she can't help but wonder how else this connection will manifest itself here... if it will in fact manifest outside of this room, after these moments have passed. Shane tips her head back a bit, her cheek sliding against Tara's, and the sensation is so light, ticklish, that she has to do it again purposefully just so that she can appreciate it completely. Ducking her head, she feathers more soft kisses to her wife's throat as she carefully eases two fingers inside, pressing and seeking the depth of her.
It's Tara mirroring Shane, now, gently slipping two fingers inside, the pads of her fingers pressing against Shane's walls, still learning as much as she can by touch, taking the time to appreciate in a way she never has before. Shane gives the tender kisses to her throat that she would give to Shane's in response to those sounds, and though the angle means she can't reach, somehow it feels reciprocated. She rubs her cheek over Shane's hair, feeling the strands tickle at her face as she lets out a low, purring moan.
That moan, just the sound of it, fills Shane's blood with fire and she finds herself shivering against Tara, her own fingers moving with deliberate care, scissoring a bit as they slip deeper and turning her hand carefully at the wrist. Every milimeter is a journey of its own, an encounter all its own, and the intensity of it all is gathering and it's like a thousand tiny deaths, like a thousand tiny little pricks of the needle, pressing ink into her skin and leaving Tara's mark behind in their wake. Rubbing her cheek against Tara's throat, an answering rumble sounds at the back of her throat.
Her cheek falls still on Shane's hair, just resting there quietly as her focus narrows to the sensations created by Shane's fingers, and the sensations she can feel around her own. Her breathing grows ragged, almost tortured by the deliberate slowness, interrupted by a gasp when Shane's fingers touch that spot. Her other hand still rests on Shane's tattoo, and the burn in her own back is the only sensation that distracts her from their mutual explorations - but really, it's not a distraction, but the perfect counterpoint. Ever beat of her heart makes the wounded flesh pulse slightly, a throb that tunes her in to that pulse which is life itself, which Shane drew into herself and even now runs in her veins, lingers on the back of her tongue.
When they fuck, there is almost always an urgency to it, urgency that makes their movements quick and sometimes even almost forceful, but this is something on a completely different level from what Shane is used to. They've fucked and they've made love - or, as Tara would say they're always making love to each other every single moment they're together, it's just that sometimes those moments happen to involve fucking - but with this, they're reaching the crest of a new plateau and she can feel it. Warmth, everywhere is warmth and this woman and nuzzling the softness of Tara's cheek one last time, Shane lays back so that she can see her - her woman, her wife - and have her with eyes and hands and heart and self.
Tara meets Shane's eyes, the love in her own unmistakable. There's a world in Shane's eyes, and she could look forever and never tire of it. Their movements remain slow and languid, the sensations coming more from the press against sensitive tissues than the friction of their thrusting. Her thumb rises, resting at the base of Shane's clit, a firm presence that anchors her as her fingers continue their slow, amost torturous glide. Pleasure pools in her lower abdomen, but it's not fire, this time - it's water, dappled in gentle golden light, shining sweetly within her.
That steady pressure against her clit forces a low groan from her, wrenched from the pit of her stomach and it takes every ounce of control to keep her eyes open. A task that's almost impossible, without something to focus on, and so her eyes lock on to Tara's and hold her gaze and she loses herself in the complexities of color and emotion she sees there. She lets her own thumb slide into place, nestling against the underside of Tara's clit, the soft pad of her thumb pressing as she stares into her wife's eyes... the shining surface of a calm, moonlit pool, the waters black and hiding so many secrets - some that are as dark as the water itself so that they cannot be seen, but others are silvery in the light, like dragonfly wings.
Tara's lips curve into a soft smile, parted slightly to let her ragged breath escape. Her eyes shine as Shane meets them, a connection slipping into place that's deeper than their mirrored hands. Keeping her thumb perfectly still, her fingers are forced to curl rather than to thrust, pressing on Shane's upper wall in new ways. Like deep velvet, the tissues give under Tara's fingers but only so far, revealing the strength that always rests just below the surface of Shane's demeanour.
Shane's own lips part at those firm touches, that steady pressure that is slowly but surely driving her out of her mind, and her eyelids flutter but somehow she fights it and manages to keep her eyes open, the effort of it causing her own breath to quicken, losing all sense of rhythm or steadiness. Another hungry shiver coursing through her, she lifts her head from the carpet, pressing her lower back against the floor so that she can lift herself up those few precious centimeters so that she can brush her parted lips against Tara's, using that soft, tiny touch to try to coax her down.
Following Shane down willingly, Tara guides Shane back down to the carpet, relieving the strain on Shane's neck. Her lips brush against Shane's, sharing her breath without attempting to deepen the kiss. As Shane's shiver ends, her own begins, as if their quivering muscles were connected, a single sensation moving through a single being in two bodies, and she moans softly, a whispered sound of pleasure and wonder.
This can't last much longer, this way, she knows it... there has to come a moment, a breaking point, where the delicate thread of this has to snap and hearing Tara's moan only pushes her closer to that moment, because it was a sound that she had felt welling up in her own throat. Settling her lips against Tara's, her breath is labored, but it's not a kiss, just a simple touch of her lips to Tara's, feeling that lush softness and breathing in just as she is breathed.
Slowly, almost delicately, Tara's thumb glides upwards, a firm pressure over Shane's clit in almost perfect counterpoint with the fingers that glide inexorably in and out, pressing as deeply as they can go, but slowly - so slowly. The sensation of water pooling in her abdomen grows stronger, no longer dappled sunlight but the blinding white glare of full sun on a reservoir of water that overflows into a whimper.
A whimper that is answered by Shane's own, each of her panting breaths trailing off into a tiny pleading noise as she tips her head ever so slightly to one side, lips hovering over Tara's, fitted against them but still barely touching. Her own fingers curl and carefully press, that firmness of touch remaining even as she withdraws her fingers and her thumb slowly begins circling over her wife's clit before her fingers start that slow glide back into the welcoming heat.
Sucking in a breath, Tara stays perfectly still - expect for her moving hand, still mirroring Shane's touch. It's all she can do not to press down onto Shane's fingers, but somehow the very slowness of it is more precious, the reverential movements. If she could, she would set this to music, the sweet theme of their lovemaking, that drifts from one to another seamlessly to make up the impossibly precious whole.
Shane does her best to keep still, but it's basically impossible at this point, because the shaking inside has become such that it has begun radiating through her entire body, down along each of her limbs, all of the tension gathering in her torso and especially her lower abdomen where each of these excruciatingly slow, impossibly provocative touches is felt. Keeping still is breaking her and she can feel herself shattering and she lets out another tiny whimper and she's not sure she could move, now, even if she wanted to.
Shane is so still underneath her, pinned by her weight, her limbs trembling, and that whimper sounds so plaintive to Shane's ears that it shatters something inside her. Tara's tongue slips between Shane's lips, brushing gently against her wife's, chasing down that whimper as her thumb strokes up and over Shane's clit, again and again, working that small bundle of nerves. Gently, on the next slow withdrawal, she slips a third finger into Shane, stretching her walls, filling her more completely.
Parting her lips wider, Shane then closes them gently around Tara's tongue, suckling it deeply into her mouth with a series of grateful, broken whimpers. Feeling Tara ease a third finger inside is almost too much, almost pushes her over the edge, but she holds back long enough to mirror that touch, as well, slipping a third finger inside her wife. Her muscles jump and twitch beneath her skin and she feels as though she's sitting on a live wire, because the shaking has grown almost completely out of control and soon it will roll back in on itself and it will take her down.
Tara can feel the quavering of Shane's muscles around her, unsteady and irregular twitches of muscles that massage her fingers gently, but hold within them surprising strength. She moans against Shane's mouth, the suckling on her tongue travelling straight to her clit, which twitches and pulses under Shane's thumb. Each of Shane's whimpers pushes her closer to the edge, but she doesn't speed her motions. Slow and steady, pushing Shane inexorably towards her orgasm, the sweetest possible torture in the most living possible way.
The excruciatingly slow pace has left her entire body feeling impossibly sensitive to all sensations, but it takes even her by surprise when, upon feeling the vibrations of Tara's moan against her lips, it's that that finally pushes her off the edge. With a low, throaty sob her eyes squeeze shut tight as she feels her muscles clench down hard around Tara's fingers as she reaches up, fingers tightening around a handful of Tara's hair.
Shane's sob bursts the buckling walls of the dam that holds that pool of sunlit water in place, and it flows through her, a warm current. Usually her orgasms wring her dry, clamping muscles and choked, keening wails, but this has been different from the very beginning. She knows her muscles are clenching around Shane's fingers, as Shane's are around hers - that indescribably precious tension - but she can't feel it. All she feels is the wave of pleasure that curls her toes and ripples up through her back, arching and bowing her under its passing, bright and golden, ending in the mouth that's still pressed against Shane's.
In all her life, Shane can't recall ever feeling so delicate, so fragile, as she does in this moment. It feels as though a touch from anything else, anyone else, might break her into a million tiny, quivering fragments, but somehow, with Tara's weight holding her in place she's still together, in one piece and she's so impossibly grateful for that. The warmth of it flows over her, blotting out everything else, and all she can do is hang on, clinging and shaking and kissing her wife over and over again.
Tara mouth moves against Shane's, returning those kisses mindlessly, her free hand still resting on the fresh black lines of the tattoo, her mark, where it's been the whole time, a gentle, almost unmoving presence. She can hardly bring herself to move, her whole body heavy and limp in the wake of that wave, collapsed on top of her wife, resting above her, inside her, within her, and this is home.
Even as the last tremors of her orgasm subside and begin to fade, she's still shaking, her breath labored and ragged as the tension in her muscles gives, her legs falling open in an almost obscene sprawl and she uses the last of her coordination and focus to brush Tara's hair out of her face, hand tenderly cupping her cheek. Finally, she has to break away for air and she hooks her arm around the back of Tara's neck, drawing her in close.
Finally lifting her hand from Shane's tattoo, Tara strokes the side of Shane's face, delicate fingers stroking lovingly over her brow, her temple, her cheek, tiny soothing sounds emitting instinctively from her throat. She rests her head in the crook of Shane's neck, as close as she can possibly be, pressed full-length along her wife's body, both of their hands still buried in the other. "My girl," she whispers, warm and low and breathlessly tender. "My beautiful, beautiful girl. I love you."
Shane's eyes are still closed and every nerve in her body is still singing, still screaming, and so when she feels the first touch of Tara's fingers against her face, she sucks in a sharp breath. It's such a tiny, harmless touch and she can feel it throughout her entire body. Shuddering, she turns her head, leaning into the touch, following it. "Goddess... love you ... love you so much," she whispers back.
"My knight," Tara whispers, pressing a dozen tiny kisses to Shane's neck, letting her fingers drift over Shane's jaw and slide back up into her hair so that the palm of her hand cups Shane's cheek, mirroring Shane's position on hers. The skin of Shane's neck is so soft, and she opens her mouth, suckling gently. She's drowsy and sated, still feeling as if she's floating, and the motion of her mouth is soft and slow and feels more natural than breathing.
Drawing in another shaky breath at that additional stimulous to her already hypersensitive nerves, Shane turns her head, rubbing her cheek against Tara's forehead. "Love you, baby... my goddess," she murmurs softly, keenly aware of the way her pulse jumps beneath Tara's mouth.
She can feel the throbbing of Shane's pulse against her tongue and around her fingers, the muted drum beat that measures out the precious seconds of Shane's life, and she laves it with her tongue. She can hear Shane's ragged breathing, and part of her wonders if she should be still, to let Shane come back to herself - but her hand is still, buried within Shane's body, her thumb motionlessly pressing at the base of Shane's clit.
The combination of that pressure as well as the delicate touch of Tara's tongue has Shane shifting almost uncomfortably. Unfortunately, there are times when there's such a thing as too much sensation. "Baby, I -- you have to either move your hand, stop kissing my throat, or keep going and fuck me into the floor," she murmurs, her voice husky and ragged. She's obviously not in any condition to do the latter suggestion yet, but she has to say something.
Removing her thumb immediately, Tara folds it into the palm of her hand, murmuring soft apologies as she nuzzles Shane's throat. The concept of fucking Shane into the floor is appealing, as always, but this isn't the moment for it, and she's being far too selfish. "My love," she whispers, trying to keep still, to let Shane work through the sensations on her own terms. "My beloved."
"Tara..." Shane sighs quietly, though the sigh isn't from relief so much as emotion. Turning her head, she brushes soft kisses to Tara's cheek and temple. "My heart... my goddess. Always."
"I want to make love with you, Shane," Tara whispers, her lips brushing against Shane's. She doesn't usually ask, but this is a moment of ritual. The words need to be spoken and answered. "I want to be inside you, and to have you inside me."
Shane lets out a soft, shuddering breath, nodding her head ever so slightly, unwilling to lose those tiny points of contact their lips have found. "Yes... please...." she whispers back.
Left hand still resting over the fresh black lines of the tattoo, Tara's right hand rises to cup Shane's face as she deepens the kiss, a tender brush of tongue to tongue, her hair falling to either side of Shane's face, a soft curtain that almost excludes the rest of the world, except for the glimmering star-like fairy lights that adorn the ceiling of the round room.
Instead of reaching up to draw that curtain away as she usually would, Shane simply lets it enclose her, lips curling softly at the corners as she returns the kiss, her hand sliding down over Tara's back to settle lightly over the marks at the small of her back. Completed. Whole. More soft, unhurried touches of lips, undemanding and sweetly reverent.
Tara arches her back gently, pressing into that touch, sweet painpleasure of the tattoo, like bittersweet chocolate melting underneath her skin. Shane's lips feel wonderful under hers, the softness of them a distinct contrast to the sensation at the small of her back.
Nibbling lightly on Tara's bottom lip, Shane draws her legs up, bending them at the knee as she shifts her hips on the soft carpet and wrapping her legs around Tara's waist, opening herself and drawing her wife closer at the same time. Her right hand smooths over Tara's hair but she doesn't try to tuck it back out of her face, instead she just touches, admires, appreciates...
Feeling the heat of Shane's sex against her, Tara repositions herself slightly, settling herself more deliberately over Shane. Her mouth strays for a moment, dragging soft, almost chaste lips over Shane's jaw and up to her ear, teasing the lobe with her tongue, raking gentle teeth over it before returning to Shane's mouth.
As Tara nibbles lightly at her ear, Shane's lips draw back into a tiny, sweet smile. Peace. She's never felt peace like this before in her life. Knowing, without a doubt, where she belongs and that she does belong and that she's loved and appreciated. Feeling Tara's cheek brush against hers, her smile broadens but loses none of its sweetness as she lifts her head up just slightly to meet her wife's lips.
She is held, cradled in Shane's arms and legs, above and below and around her. Shane's mark burns softly on her back, and she can feel the radiating heat of her mark on Shane in front of her. Shane's blood, that single mouthful, courses through her veins, mixing with her own, and Shane is truly touching her everywhere it is possible to be touched, places her fingers could never reach.
Dragging her fingertips up along Tara's back, she notes every contour of muscle, following them along as she draws her hand over her wife's shoulder and down along her chest, palm resting flush over her heart between them, her other hand still resting over Tara's tattoo. For the first time, it's enough. She doesn't feel the usual urgency or near-desperate hunger that she feels when she and Tara are together. That's gone, having been replaced with warmth and certainty, spreading through her and making her feel as though she must be glowing even more brightly than the candles or the softly twinkling fairy lights overhead. She's lit from inside with life and love and she only has this beautiful, wonderful woman to thank for that.
Tara's fingers explore just as slowly, tracing the counters of Shane's breast, the subtle indentation of her hip, the strong muscle of her leg. Eyes fixed on Shane's, she can't see any of the skin she's touching, but she knows it, better than she knows her own. There's a lassitude to the golden glow in her lower abdomen, perfect patience as her tongue continues to curl wetly with Shane's. She's quite content to stay this way indefinitely, kissing and caressing and never needing more.
Shane lets her eyes slide closed, a barely audible hum of delight sounding at the back of her throat as her own hand pets lightly over Tara's skin, fingertips tracing the shape and weight of her breast, relearning the texture of her nipple - not a touch meant to tease or inflame, but simply exploring. The thick carpet beneath her feels almost like a bed of soft grasses, cradling the both of them and she half expects to see a tree's branches swinging overhead as she briefly opens her eyes and looks up, but finds only the lights there when she does. This place, this moment, feels unspeakably sacred and she realizes that no words are necessary to complete this spell. All the words, all the meaning in them, is nothing when compared to this...
Sighing softly, Tara's fingers drift over the back of Shane's thigh, the soft, firm flesh of her buttocks, stroking the skin there with fingertips and then with the backs of her fingers, exploring the sensations different touches allow. There's a faint aftertaste of incense in the air, a slightly spicy, slightly musky flavour laced with sandalwood that makes this room seem like it's part of a different world. It's still day, outside, but here the stars sparkle overhead, the thick curtains over the windows shielding out the natural light, and is feels as though the earth is breathing beneath her as her body rises and falls softly with Shane's own breath.
The sense of the room as well as the spell that the two of them are completing twine themselves together, in much the way their bodies are tangled together on the floor, and create a heady, almost dreamy atmosphere. Her limbs are starting to feel slightly heavy, sluggish and not as quick to respond to her commands as they might usually. Still, she isn't frustrated by it... the feeling is merely a part of the whole experience and so she welcomes it just as she welcomes each and every touch from her wife. She slowly runs the length of her leg over Tara's leg and hip, delighting in the tickle of their skin brushing and catching as she presses dozens of feather-light kisses to Tara's lips.
Slowly, Tara's mouth begins to wander, returning those feather-light kisses to Shane in a line down the curve of her jaw, the arch of her neck, the sculpted rise of her collarbone, the space between her breasts, where hard bone covers the most vital of her organs. Softly swelling breasts brush against the sides of her face and she turns her head, rubbing her cheek more deliberately over Shane's breast, feeling the contrast between that flesh and that under her tender lips. Her skin is alive, prickling with sensitivity, and she's sure she could feel Shane's touch millimetres before it even reached her skin, so attuned does she feel to the small world they've created for themselves.
She's sensitive, very sensitive and attuned to what her body is feeling right now, but at the same time, there is still no sense of urgency despite the acuteness of her awareness. Feeling the silken skin of Tara's cheek as she nuzzles her breast causes both of her nipples to slowly peak and tighten, but her movements are lazy, languid as she runs both of her hands over Tara's shoulders and down her arms, gently squeezing and pressing as she goes and admiring the sculpted softness of her wife's body. Her own is all sharp angles and bony corners and edges but Tara is nothing but softness, every inch of her.
Tara slowly rubs her cheek over Shane's breast, again and again, feeling the change in sensation as the shape of Shane's nipple changes. She feels like a cat, rubbing up against scratching fingers. Her fingers rises, stroking the underside of the arms that are stroking her, the strength hidden by sheer relaxation.
Shane lets out a soft noise, barely a chuckle and more of a delighted hum, at Tara's touch. She unwinds her legs from Tara's waist to give her wife a bit more freedom to move, the inside of her thighs sliding along the outside of Tara's. Every sensation is like music, each touch a separate, sweet note of its own, each of them adding to the symphony. Music. They're music.
Shane's hum sings through her, a soft sound of pure joy that's echoed by Tara's own, almost silently laughter. She feels as though she is floating - not in water, that weightlessness of air, but in water, that heavy lassitude that cradles the limbs even as it holds you inexorably in place. And she is, floating on Shane, who is the ocean and the rain to her, the drink that quenches her thirst and the waves that can lift her off her feet or pound her against the rocks. For most people, the sea is something they look at and dream of - so peaceful on its surface, just as Shane is. Underneath, though, hidden in those depths are greater dangers than most people can recognise, and so people visit the ocean, long for it, watch it and dream of it - but they don't want to be in it for more than a few hours. And Tara... Tara is a mermaid. This is her home, here in the depths of Shane, the uncharted waters that so few understand. She's not jealous of the many people they come across who want her wife - how could she be, when Shane chooses her, every day? - but in a way she pities them. For whatever reason, they're not brave enough or strong enough to let go, to accept Shane's love that is so completely consuming. They fight to stay separate from her - as Kate does, though she loves Shane more than life itself - to hold something back for themselves. For Tara, there is nothing held back. Everything she is is wrapped in Shane, and giving herself so totally means she knows Shane better than any person has ever known her before.
Pressed so closely together as they are, Shane can feel that laughter even more than she can hear it and it makes her smile even brighter. Sometimes she's so sure that she'll drown, herself, caught and swept under by the weight of her own history and dragged to the depths by her ghosts, but this woman, her wife, her beloved Tara, is the life preserver she clings to, the one thing that helps her to keep her head above water... the one thing that makes her want to. It would be so easy, to let the wretched sadness of her past overwhelm her, to let it douse the tiny ember of hope she still has inside and resign herself to hopelessness. But Tara makes her want to try, makes her shelter that ember with every ounce of strength and sheer force of will that she has in her. Tara accepts her, all of her, all of her darkest corners and bleakest memories, and treasures them as a part of her, loving her truly and completely and unconditionally. The thought of loving anyone this deeply doesn't make her feel fragile or vulnerable, anymore... it makes her feel blessed. Because it means that she can know what it is to be loved, fully and utterly, and that is something that she will carry with her always.
"I love you," Tara breathes, the first words after long moments of silence, barely ruffling the stillness of the room. She kisses her way, openmouthed, around Shane's breast, the very edge of flesh that begins to rise from her ribs, chin and then nose brushing against Shane's erect nipple. The other breast gets the same treatment, interspersed with Tara's quiet declarations of love. "All you are, all you have ever been, all you will become. Maiden, Mother, Crone. I love you."
"Love you... love you so much, Tara," Shane whispers softly, her heavy-lidded eyes shining as she watches Tara's every move, hands still tenderly stroking her wife's back and shoulders and hair and face, touching every part of her wife that's within her reach. "All I was, all I've been... all I am... is for you..."
"You are whole," Tara whispers, pressing a kiss over Shane's heart, her eyelids falling shut reverently. They flutter open again to find Shane's next chakra, her solar plexus. "You are strong," she whispers, another kiss pressed gently to this spot. Sliding further down Shane's body, Tara settles her shoulders between Shane's legs and presses the softest, longest kiss yet just below her belly button. "You are important," she says, her voice still soft but inexorably firm, and this one gets a second kiss, because Tara knows it is the hardest for Shane to accept. Lower again, lips brushing just at the edge of Shane's public hair, dark curls tickling her chin as she presses this kiss into place. "You are wanted," she whispers.
"You want me..." Shane whispers back and her voice still has a wondering tone to it, but there's more understanding, acceptance of that, than there ever was before. Her eyes glow with warmth as she gently brushes her fingertips over Tara's forehead, down the slope of her nose, over her cheek. "You... you love me."
She's not finished yet, and she just nods silently as she raises herself back up over Shane's body. Pressing a kiss to the hollow of Shane's throat she whispers, "you are understood." Her eyes meet Shane's as she lifts her head, tilting her chin up to kiss the very bridge of Shane's nose, just between her eyebrows. Her tongue darts out to taste this flesh, very, very softly, as she whispers, "you are wise." Her head drops, now, lips hovering over Shane's as she whispers, "you are loved," her voice impossibly light and joyful as she brushes Shane's mouth in a kiss.
Even just a few short weeks ago, hearing these truths - and that is what they are - spoken to her so frankly and simply would have brought tears to her eyes, for the simple fact that it's everything that she has ever wanted in her life. So fundamental to who she is, these desires, these needs, that the knowledge that her journey is finally over and she has found someone who can do and be all of these things for her broke her and then put her back together all over again. There is no overwhelming surge of emotion, now, no tears... just deep, quiet gratitude and reverence and joy. "I love you, Tara," she whispers, her own voice sober and sincere, though her eyes reflect the light and joy that she hears in Tara's voice.
"I love you, Shane," Tara replies, letting herself leave behind ritual words that felt pulled from deep within her. One hand cups Shane's cheek, the tips of her fingers petting the hair at Shane's temple softly, while the other hand falls to her mark on Shane's hip. The kiss is a blessing, a benediction, a truth as sure as the words were truth. She has no illusions about Shane. Her wife isn't perfect - she's frightened and scarred, and much of the time only just holding on to the calm, peaceful, easygoing face she presents, although that, too, is truth. Far from blind to her flaws, to Tara it's like the labels on silk or leather. 'Variations in the fabric should not be regarded as flaws, but as part of the unique character of the material'. And that's what it is. Part of the unique character that is Shane, and so she loves all of it. Dark and light, strong and weak. All Shane is. She sees, understands, accepts, and loves it all.
No matter how many times she hears those words or says them, they still humble her as much as they did the first time she heard them spoken to her by her wife and she said them in return. How long ago was it? It seems almost like years ago, now... lifetimes ago. In so many ways, she's the same but in others she has been changed so greatly by the simple act of loving this woman. Leaning her head into the touch, pressing her cheek into Tara's palm, her eyes slide closed, a small smile shaping her lips even as she reaches up hands slipping up over Tara's shoulders to rest lightly on her shoulder blades, gently drawing her down. "Make love with me, Tara," she whispers as she turns her head and tips it up, parting her lips in invitation, welcome.
"Always," Tara whispers, and her lips find Shane's, her tongue finally slipping past that barrier to taste her wife again. Shane is so familiar to her, but every time is like returning home after a long absence. Her tongue strokes along Shane's, slow and sweet, her body lowering to rest her weight on Shane again, breasts crushing together.
Slowly tipping her head to one side, Shane slips her tongue beneath Tara's, curling it against the underside, coaxing her in further. Letting her hands slide down over Tara's back, she brings them around, broad palms sweeping up along her wife's sides as she suckles carefully on Tara's tongue, a low groan of delight and gratitude escaping her as she feels her weight settle, anchoring her.
Tara lets out an answering moan of pleasure as the gentle suckling on her tongue travels through her, pulling forth a desire that was never sated, only banked. Her thumb strokes in soft circles over the sensitive skin on Shane's hip, tracing the circles of her mark as her hips begin to gently rock, following the rhythm of Shane's suckling. Her free hand drifts down, trailing over Shane's side to touch her thigh, gently urging Shane to open to her again.
At that light touch, Shane spreads her legs, the soles of her feet resting flat on the soft carpet, knees bent as she looses a low, rumbling purr into the kiss. The tattoo still aches, being so new, but that sweet pain is overshadowed by the aching between her legs and her own hips grind upwards to help ease that as her hands slide back down along Tara's sides to rest on her hips.
Murmuring her own approval into the kiss, Tara's fingers slip between their bodies, her fingers starting low to coat themselves with moisture before gliding softly up and over Shane's clit, feeling Shane's pulse beat faintly through the swollen nub of nerves there. She's doesn't break contact with the tattoo, but she's careful to keep her fingers very, very gentle, conscious both of the pain in her own lower back and that the location of Shane's is already more sensitive.
Shane shivers as she feels Tara's fingers brush against her and she draws one of her legs a bit further to one side, giving Tara's hip a squeeze before slipping her hand between her wife's legs in turn. Letting out a soft, shuddering breath, her fingers slide over Tara's heated folds, nestling between them and seeking out the slickness, mirroring Tara's movements as she rolls her hips up again, inviting more of that touch.
Tara's fingers quickly find a rhythm - ducking two fingers just barely into Shane's entrance, gathering up that slickness, and gliding up to paint it over Shane's clit, stroking it with firm, moist fingers. She knows exactly what this is doing to Shane, the desire to feel her deeply, to be filled, because she's feeling it herself - but it still lacks the hungry urgency their interactions have had of late, and she drags this moment out deliberately, exploring the sensation for the moment. Shane is inside her, deeper than fingers could ever reach, and she wonders if she could isolate that sensation, diffused as it is throughout her blood.
Another involuntary breath escapes, trailing off with a low groan, breaking the kiss to bury her face in the hollow of Tara's throat, her wife's long hair falling over her face like a curtain or a veil, heavier than silk and a thousand times more precious. Nuzzling Tara's throat, she presses soft kisses to it, inhaling the perfume of her wife's skin, her hair, trying her best to concentrate on what she's doing even with those distractions and it proves difficult but she focuses on matching the insistent rhythm of Tara's fingers instead of trying to find her own, which helps.
Each return of her fingers to Shane's body brings them a little deeper, a fraction of a millimetre, taking the time to learn Shane's texture, the many and varied ripples of tissue, the way her body welcomes Tara, the faintest possible ripple of her muscles seeking to draw Tara in further - though maybe that's just her own desire. She can feel Shane's fingers pressing into her simultaneously, and she's never been as conscious of the sensations in her own body, the point at which the sensation goes from teasing to torturing, when her body demands more and her hips buck to find it.
Her movements, up until now, have been a game of mirrors with Tara, but feeling her hips buck draws a ragged moan from her own throat, as though it's her own growing hunger that has prompted the sound rather than Tara's. Tara aches and it's her own throat the pleading sounds fall from and she can't help but wonder how else this connection will manifest itself here... if it will in fact manifest outside of this room, after these moments have passed. Shane tips her head back a bit, her cheek sliding against Tara's, and the sensation is so light, ticklish, that she has to do it again purposefully just so that she can appreciate it completely. Ducking her head, she feathers more soft kisses to her wife's throat as she carefully eases two fingers inside, pressing and seeking the depth of her.
It's Tara mirroring Shane, now, gently slipping two fingers inside, the pads of her fingers pressing against Shane's walls, still learning as much as she can by touch, taking the time to appreciate in a way she never has before. Shane gives the tender kisses to her throat that she would give to Shane's in response to those sounds, and though the angle means she can't reach, somehow it feels reciprocated. She rubs her cheek over Shane's hair, feeling the strands tickle at her face as she lets out a low, purring moan.
That moan, just the sound of it, fills Shane's blood with fire and she finds herself shivering against Tara, her own fingers moving with deliberate care, scissoring a bit as they slip deeper and turning her hand carefully at the wrist. Every milimeter is a journey of its own, an encounter all its own, and the intensity of it all is gathering and it's like a thousand tiny deaths, like a thousand tiny little pricks of the needle, pressing ink into her skin and leaving Tara's mark behind in their wake. Rubbing her cheek against Tara's throat, an answering rumble sounds at the back of her throat.
Her cheek falls still on Shane's hair, just resting there quietly as her focus narrows to the sensations created by Shane's fingers, and the sensations she can feel around her own. Her breathing grows ragged, almost tortured by the deliberate slowness, interrupted by a gasp when Shane's fingers touch that spot. Her other hand still rests on Shane's tattoo, and the burn in her own back is the only sensation that distracts her from their mutual explorations - but really, it's not a distraction, but the perfect counterpoint. Ever beat of her heart makes the wounded flesh pulse slightly, a throb that tunes her in to that pulse which is life itself, which Shane drew into herself and even now runs in her veins, lingers on the back of her tongue.
When they fuck, there is almost always an urgency to it, urgency that makes their movements quick and sometimes even almost forceful, but this is something on a completely different level from what Shane is used to. They've fucked and they've made love - or, as Tara would say they're always making love to each other every single moment they're together, it's just that sometimes those moments happen to involve fucking - but with this, they're reaching the crest of a new plateau and she can feel it. Warmth, everywhere is warmth and this woman and nuzzling the softness of Tara's cheek one last time, Shane lays back so that she can see her - her woman, her wife - and have her with eyes and hands and heart and self.
Tara meets Shane's eyes, the love in her own unmistakable. There's a world in Shane's eyes, and she could look forever and never tire of it. Their movements remain slow and languid, the sensations coming more from the press against sensitive tissues than the friction of their thrusting. Her thumb rises, resting at the base of Shane's clit, a firm presence that anchors her as her fingers continue their slow, amost torturous glide. Pleasure pools in her lower abdomen, but it's not fire, this time - it's water, dappled in gentle golden light, shining sweetly within her.
That steady pressure against her clit forces a low groan from her, wrenched from the pit of her stomach and it takes every ounce of control to keep her eyes open. A task that's almost impossible, without something to focus on, and so her eyes lock on to Tara's and hold her gaze and she loses herself in the complexities of color and emotion she sees there. She lets her own thumb slide into place, nestling against the underside of Tara's clit, the soft pad of her thumb pressing as she stares into her wife's eyes... the shining surface of a calm, moonlit pool, the waters black and hiding so many secrets - some that are as dark as the water itself so that they cannot be seen, but others are silvery in the light, like dragonfly wings.
Tara's lips curve into a soft smile, parted slightly to let her ragged breath escape. Her eyes shine as Shane meets them, a connection slipping into place that's deeper than their mirrored hands. Keeping her thumb perfectly still, her fingers are forced to curl rather than to thrust, pressing on Shane's upper wall in new ways. Like deep velvet, the tissues give under Tara's fingers but only so far, revealing the strength that always rests just below the surface of Shane's demeanour.
Shane's own lips part at those firm touches, that steady pressure that is slowly but surely driving her out of her mind, and her eyelids flutter but somehow she fights it and manages to keep her eyes open, the effort of it causing her own breath to quicken, losing all sense of rhythm or steadiness. Another hungry shiver coursing through her, she lifts her head from the carpet, pressing her lower back against the floor so that she can lift herself up those few precious centimeters so that she can brush her parted lips against Tara's, using that soft, tiny touch to try to coax her down.
Following Shane down willingly, Tara guides Shane back down to the carpet, relieving the strain on Shane's neck. Her lips brush against Shane's, sharing her breath without attempting to deepen the kiss. As Shane's shiver ends, her own begins, as if their quivering muscles were connected, a single sensation moving through a single being in two bodies, and she moans softly, a whispered sound of pleasure and wonder.
This can't last much longer, this way, she knows it... there has to come a moment, a breaking point, where the delicate thread of this has to snap and hearing Tara's moan only pushes her closer to that moment, because it was a sound that she had felt welling up in her own throat. Settling her lips against Tara's, her breath is labored, but it's not a kiss, just a simple touch of her lips to Tara's, feeling that lush softness and breathing in just as she is breathed.
Slowly, almost delicately, Tara's thumb glides upwards, a firm pressure over Shane's clit in almost perfect counterpoint with the fingers that glide inexorably in and out, pressing as deeply as they can go, but slowly - so slowly. The sensation of water pooling in her abdomen grows stronger, no longer dappled sunlight but the blinding white glare of full sun on a reservoir of water that overflows into a whimper.
A whimper that is answered by Shane's own, each of her panting breaths trailing off into a tiny pleading noise as she tips her head ever so slightly to one side, lips hovering over Tara's, fitted against them but still barely touching. Her own fingers curl and carefully press, that firmness of touch remaining even as she withdraws her fingers and her thumb slowly begins circling over her wife's clit before her fingers start that slow glide back into the welcoming heat.
Sucking in a breath, Tara stays perfectly still - expect for her moving hand, still mirroring Shane's touch. It's all she can do not to press down onto Shane's fingers, but somehow the very slowness of it is more precious, the reverential movements. If she could, she would set this to music, the sweet theme of their lovemaking, that drifts from one to another seamlessly to make up the impossibly precious whole.
Shane does her best to keep still, but it's basically impossible at this point, because the shaking inside has become such that it has begun radiating through her entire body, down along each of her limbs, all of the tension gathering in her torso and especially her lower abdomen where each of these excruciatingly slow, impossibly provocative touches is felt. Keeping still is breaking her and she can feel herself shattering and she lets out another tiny whimper and she's not sure she could move, now, even if she wanted to.
Shane is so still underneath her, pinned by her weight, her limbs trembling, and that whimper sounds so plaintive to Shane's ears that it shatters something inside her. Tara's tongue slips between Shane's lips, brushing gently against her wife's, chasing down that whimper as her thumb strokes up and over Shane's clit, again and again, working that small bundle of nerves. Gently, on the next slow withdrawal, she slips a third finger into Shane, stretching her walls, filling her more completely.
Parting her lips wider, Shane then closes them gently around Tara's tongue, suckling it deeply into her mouth with a series of grateful, broken whimpers. Feeling Tara ease a third finger inside is almost too much, almost pushes her over the edge, but she holds back long enough to mirror that touch, as well, slipping a third finger inside her wife. Her muscles jump and twitch beneath her skin and she feels as though she's sitting on a live wire, because the shaking has grown almost completely out of control and soon it will roll back in on itself and it will take her down.
Tara can feel the quavering of Shane's muscles around her, unsteady and irregular twitches of muscles that massage her fingers gently, but hold within them surprising strength. She moans against Shane's mouth, the suckling on her tongue travelling straight to her clit, which twitches and pulses under Shane's thumb. Each of Shane's whimpers pushes her closer to the edge, but she doesn't speed her motions. Slow and steady, pushing Shane inexorably towards her orgasm, the sweetest possible torture in the most living possible way.
The excruciatingly slow pace has left her entire body feeling impossibly sensitive to all sensations, but it takes even her by surprise when, upon feeling the vibrations of Tara's moan against her lips, it's that that finally pushes her off the edge. With a low, throaty sob her eyes squeeze shut tight as she feels her muscles clench down hard around Tara's fingers as she reaches up, fingers tightening around a handful of Tara's hair.
Shane's sob bursts the buckling walls of the dam that holds that pool of sunlit water in place, and it flows through her, a warm current. Usually her orgasms wring her dry, clamping muscles and choked, keening wails, but this has been different from the very beginning. She knows her muscles are clenching around Shane's fingers, as Shane's are around hers - that indescribably precious tension - but she can't feel it. All she feels is the wave of pleasure that curls her toes and ripples up through her back, arching and bowing her under its passing, bright and golden, ending in the mouth that's still pressed against Shane's.
In all her life, Shane can't recall ever feeling so delicate, so fragile, as she does in this moment. It feels as though a touch from anything else, anyone else, might break her into a million tiny, quivering fragments, but somehow, with Tara's weight holding her in place she's still together, in one piece and she's so impossibly grateful for that. The warmth of it flows over her, blotting out everything else, and all she can do is hang on, clinging and shaking and kissing her wife over and over again.
Tara mouth moves against Shane's, returning those kisses mindlessly, her free hand still resting on the fresh black lines of the tattoo, her mark, where it's been the whole time, a gentle, almost unmoving presence. She can hardly bring herself to move, her whole body heavy and limp in the wake of that wave, collapsed on top of her wife, resting above her, inside her, within her, and this is home.
Even as the last tremors of her orgasm subside and begin to fade, she's still shaking, her breath labored and ragged as the tension in her muscles gives, her legs falling open in an almost obscene sprawl and she uses the last of her coordination and focus to brush Tara's hair out of her face, hand tenderly cupping her cheek. Finally, she has to break away for air and she hooks her arm around the back of Tara's neck, drawing her in close.
Finally lifting her hand from Shane's tattoo, Tara strokes the side of Shane's face, delicate fingers stroking lovingly over her brow, her temple, her cheek, tiny soothing sounds emitting instinctively from her throat. She rests her head in the crook of Shane's neck, as close as she can possibly be, pressed full-length along her wife's body, both of their hands still buried in the other. "My girl," she whispers, warm and low and breathlessly tender. "My beautiful, beautiful girl. I love you."
Shane's eyes are still closed and every nerve in her body is still singing, still screaming, and so when she feels the first touch of Tara's fingers against her face, she sucks in a sharp breath. It's such a tiny, harmless touch and she can feel it throughout her entire body. Shuddering, she turns her head, leaning into the touch, following it. "Goddess... love you ... love you so much," she whispers back.
"My knight," Tara whispers, pressing a dozen tiny kisses to Shane's neck, letting her fingers drift over Shane's jaw and slide back up into her hair so that the palm of her hand cups Shane's cheek, mirroring Shane's position on hers. The skin of Shane's neck is so soft, and she opens her mouth, suckling gently. She's drowsy and sated, still feeling as if she's floating, and the motion of her mouth is soft and slow and feels more natural than breathing.
Drawing in another shaky breath at that additional stimulous to her already hypersensitive nerves, Shane turns her head, rubbing her cheek against Tara's forehead. "Love you, baby... my goddess," she murmurs softly, keenly aware of the way her pulse jumps beneath Tara's mouth.
She can feel the throbbing of Shane's pulse against her tongue and around her fingers, the muted drum beat that measures out the precious seconds of Shane's life, and she laves it with her tongue. She can hear Shane's ragged breathing, and part of her wonders if she should be still, to let Shane come back to herself - but her hand is still, buried within Shane's body, her thumb motionlessly pressing at the base of Shane's clit.
The combination of that pressure as well as the delicate touch of Tara's tongue has Shane shifting almost uncomfortably. Unfortunately, there are times when there's such a thing as too much sensation. "Baby, I -- you have to either move your hand, stop kissing my throat, or keep going and fuck me into the floor," she murmurs, her voice husky and ragged. She's obviously not in any condition to do the latter suggestion yet, but she has to say something.
Removing her thumb immediately, Tara folds it into the palm of her hand, murmuring soft apologies as she nuzzles Shane's throat. The concept of fucking Shane into the floor is appealing, as always, but this isn't the moment for it, and she's being far too selfish. "My love," she whispers, trying to keep still, to let Shane work through the sensations on her own terms. "My beloved."
"Tara..." Shane sighs quietly, though the sigh isn't from relief so much as emotion. Turning her head, she brushes soft kisses to Tara's cheek and temple. "My heart... my goddess. Always."