FIC: That kind of love, Darla/Tara, Willow/Tara, NC-17
Title: That kind of love
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Darla/Tara, Willow/Tara
Word Count: 4,256
Warning: Character deaths, darkfic
Disclaimer: Oh how I wish Tara was mine. But she, Darla and Willow, as well as all other characters and situations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. I'm not making any money with this.
Notes: Many, many thanks to my betas wolf_cat, roadrunner1896 and carawj. And to the Slashstammtisch for helping me realize that I could just cut out the middle manpire :)
~*~*~
When Darla kisses her, Tara feels almost alive.
They have to wait until dark arrives, watch as the dusk creeps over Sunnydale. Darla is dressed in Willow’s clothes, a light flowery skirt, a low-cut crimson top a little too tight. Darla’s scent is mingled with Willow’s; Tara drinks it in greedily, licking her lips, which still hold a faint taste of Willow’s blood. She’s wearing one of her usual outifts, a pair of jeans, a dark blue sweater.
Her pants are still unbuttoned; Darla has ordered her to keep her hand between her legs while she is kneeling in front of her, her head buried in her lap. Willow’s clothes, Willow’s scent surround her, yet all she wants is Darla Darla Darla, and she licks and pushes and bites. Darla’s hand is on her head, holding her in place, guiding her. Tara doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she knows Willow’s body on the floor is cold. She shivers when she hears Darla moan and she comes when Darla tells her to, calling her name. Darla, Darla, Darla pulls her up into her arms, and Tara collapses next to her on the bed. It is still a little light out, it is not yet time. They are meeting Buffy at the Bronze later; they will kill her. After that, they are going to leave Sunnydale; Darla doesn’t care about any of the others. All she wants is revenge, and revenge means Willow’s death and Buffy’s death.
Tara pushes up Darla’s shirt, cupping her breasts before licking them, sucking them. She is like a child, eagerly feeding on Darla’s breasts, but now her hand is buried between Darla’s legs, fingers teasing her, pushing inside her. She is slow, she is fast, she takes what she needs. They have to wait before Tara can safely feed; Darla doesn’t want to take any risks, and Tara obeys.
Darla watches Tara pleasing her, she is beautiful. Her expression is one of want and abandon, mixed with still lingering traces of sweetness and innocence. This is not what she came for, but it is not unwelcome. Tara’s teeth scrape over her skin, Darla cannot help arching against her. Again, she climaxes; Tara is insatiable and Darla doesn’t mind. Tara’s lips find hers and they kiss, hungrily
People in the other rooms are turning their lights on, it is time. Still kissing, they get up, straightening their clothes. Tara walks over to the mirror to pick up her hairbrush, stepping over Willow. She brushes her hair and then hands the brush to Darla with a suggestive smile. Darla laughs and shakes her head. Later.
~*~*~
Later, Tara thought, furiously. We’ll talk about it later.. Yeah, right. With Willow, later meant tomorrow, or the day after that, or never. For all her love for talking, Willow did not like to talk about things, especially when those things concerned her use of magic.
Tara was on her way back to the dorms. She had been over at Buffy’s house, together with Willow and Xander. Dawn was visiting a friend, and Buffy had told them all about Dawn’s attempt to raise Mrs Summers from the dead. Tara had been horrified to hear it. How could Dawn have known about such a spell? One look at Willow, though, had been enough. She had excused herself soon after that; claiming that it would be good for the three friends to spend some time alone together. Of course Willow had known, and of course she had apologized. But what good were apologies when it came to raising the dead? It was wrong, it was against everything Tara had been taught, and no matter how often she tried to explain it to Willow, she didn’t understand.
With a sigh, she opened the door to their room. She toed off her shoes and left them near the entrance, not caring about putting them back in their right place. She walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out the book she knew Willow had shown to Dawn. Tara sat down on the bed and started to leaf through the book. When she found the spell, her anger flared up once more. How could Willow not understand? Sometimes she wondered whether it was good or bad that Willow didn’t know exactly how much power she possessed. It might help make her more cautious. Or it might end up making her more reckless.
The phone rang; it was Willow telling her she would stay the night at Buffy’s. They hardly ever spent their nights apart, and despite everything that had happened the room felt too empty. Tara was about to change into her pajamas when there was a knock on the door. She frowned; maybe it was Anya? On her way to the entrance she picked up her shoes and put them into the closet where they belonged.
When she opened the door, there was a woman she had never seen before. A tiny blonde, she reminded her a bit of Buffy, but there was something very different about her. Tara shrugged it off; her fight with Willow was obviously affecting her more than she would like.
“Hello? Can I help you?” she asked.
“Hello.” The woman’s voice was raspy yet sweet, and her smile was beautiful. She was wearing a red party dress, and holding a small bag in her hand. “I’m looking for Willow Rosenberg?”
“Oh. Um. She isn’t here right now. Why - were you supposed to meet her?”
The woman laughed, a bright and sparkly laugh. Of course Willow wasn’t seeing other women behind her back, but it worried her that Willow knew women as beautiful as this one.
“No, she didn’t know I’d come by. I’m not even sure she knows me. I was just hoping she could help me with my chemistry notes. I missed a couple of classes since I am new here and everybody said that she was the one to go to. We have a test tomorrow, so…” The woman looked at her hopefully.
“Well, she isn’t here, but I can check whether her notes are here. I can’t give them to you, but you can have a look, if you want.”
“That would be great! Thank you!” She beamed. “I’m Darla, by the way.”
“Tara.” She hesitated for a moment, but when she saw Darla’s hopeful smile, she opened the door a little wider. “Do you want to come in while I look for the notes?”
She didn’t move. “Are you sure?” She fiddled a little with her purse.
“Sure! Come in.” Tara gestured her inside and closed the door behind her. “You can sit down on the bed if you want to. The chair’s kind of… occupied.” She pointed to the heap of clothes lying on it.
“Thank you.” As Tara went over to the desk to look for Willow’s notes, Darla wandered over to the bookshelf. “You’re interested in witchcraft?”
“Oh.” Tara looked up. She wasn’t really used to having strangers around. Strangers who didn’t know anything about witches, and vampires and slayers. “Um. It’s for… classes.”
“I see.” That answer seemed to be enough to satisfy her and Tara let out a relieved sigh.
“I’m not sure I can find her notes. I -“
When she heard something behind her, she turned around. Darla was standing really close to her now, smiling. “It’s okay.”
“Really? What - what about your test tomorrow?”
“I don’t care about the test.” Darla’s voice was low as she stepped even closer. Tara looked at her, transfixed before realizing Darla was about to kiss her. She almost jumped backwards.
“No! I mean - no! I’m sorry but -“ Tara didn’t know where to look. “I mean - Willow and I - she’s my -“
Again, Darla laughed. “Good. My mommy always said I wasn’t to play with my food anyway.”
The second she said that, Tara knew. She tried to fight back, she tried to struggle, but Darla’s arms closed around hers and she was pushed against the wall. Darla’s face morphed and Darla’s lips were on her neck. Her teeth punctured her skin and when Tara smelled blood she knew it was her own.
~*~*~
The next thing Tara remembers is her mother, holding her. She is safe, she is home, she is warm. Tara sighs and buries her head between her mother’s breasts, resuming her suckling. Her arms are wrapped around her mother’s waist, she is kneeling on the floor and back in her mind she knows that something is wrong. But she doesn’t care, she doesn’t want to care; this is how it should be. Her mother is running her fingers through her hair, a gentle caress, and Tara sighs once more, content.
At that moment, she is pulled away. Tara lets out a whimper. She needs, she wants more. She licks her lips, they taste salty.
“That’s enough for now.” She knows that voice, it is not her mother’s. She looks up, and Darla is smiling at her.
“What-“ What happened?, she wants to ask, but she knows what happened. She can feel Darla’s blood in her veins, she can feel a strength she has never had before. How?, her next question, she can answer by herself too. “Why?” she finally asks. Darla, who has been standing while feeding her, walks over to the bed.
“Sit.”
Tara obeys. Darla turns to face her and puts one hand on her thigh while using the other to push strands of hair behind Tara’s ears.
“My pretty one,” she whispers. The hand on Tara’s thigh moves upwards, making her shiver. “When do you think your girlfriend will be back?”
“My girlfriend?” Tara frowns. “Willow… I think she’ll be back in the morning, before class. What time is it?”
It’s still dark outside; a glance at her clock tells her she hasn’t been - dead for long. “We have at least seven more hours,” she tells Darla, who looks pleased.
“Good. That’ll leave us enough time to get a little more… acquainted with each other, don’t you think?” Tara’s eyes widen at that. Darla’s hand has crept up even higher; she lightly traces her fingers over her crotch.
“But - but what about your plans? What - why are we waiting for Willow?”
Darla leans over to whisper into her ear. “I’ll tell you later.” She catches Tara’s earlobe between her teeth before moving to kiss her cheek. It’s the first time anyone other than Willow kisses, touches her like that, and she enjoys it. When Darla’s lips meet hers, she returns the kiss hungrily; she moans and cups Darla’s face, pulling her closer. She can feel Darla laugh, and fury washes over her, mixed with desire. Her kisses become more forceful, and she pushes Darla down onto the bed, grinding against her. Darla is still laughing, but a few moans escape her throat when Tara finds her way to her breasts. The wound from which Tara drank is almost healed, she licks over it once, hard before pulling down the straps of Darla’s dress, pushing it down. She cups Darla’s breasts with her hands, they are bigger than Willow’s and still unfamiliar. Tara flicks over a nipple with her thumb; when there is no reaction, she uses her mouth, her teeth and bites down, first gently, then hard as Darla moans and arches into her. She is elated and wants more, so much more.
Darla’s skin is cold, she revels in the feel of it against her own. She is still dressed in her old clothes, a shirt, a skirt, but she doesn't bother to undress. She is still busy teasing Darla’s breasts when Darla pushes her downwards, hissing “Down. Now. Fuck,” through gritted teeth. Tara does what she is told, eager to please. Darla’s folds are wet, she dips into them easily. Darla is impatient and Tara knows what to do, pushing two fingers inside her, three as she demands more. She uses her thumb to rub over her clit and Darla is moving under her, beautiful, oh so beautiful. Tara is leaning over her, watching her as Darla pulls her down to kiss her; she bites her lips so hard that there is blood. When she comes, she looks right into Tara’s eyes, she seems determined, satisfied.
Then it is her turn to please Tara; she discards her own dress before sliding down Tara’s body, undressing her. She bites and licks and sucks and Tara moans. She belongs to her now, she knows, and Darla is careful to bind her to her. She will not make the same mistakes again; she marks her with her teeth, her skillful tongue. Her teeth scrape the tender skin of the inside of her thighs and soon Tara's blood mixes with her juices and she knows the other can tell. Darla circles her clit with her tongue, tasting her, all of her, and she sucks and pushes into her, Tara grinding against her before coming with a scream.
They use the night well, and in between Darla explains to Tara what she has planned. In the early hours of the morning she gets dressed and leaves. She won’t be far, she tells her.
~*~*~
Tara loved Willow, she always had. Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night and instead of going back to sleep, she’d simply lie there and watch Willow, red hair spread out on the pillow, pale skin shimmering in the dark. She’d feel so right in those moments: she was where she belonged, this was what she had been waiting for all her life. Willow was her everything, more than she had ever thought she’d have.
Now there was nothing. It was strange, this absence of feeling. Tara tried to recall the Willow who had made her feel loved, more out of idle curiosity than anything else. But all she remembered was the Willow who would never listen to her, the Willow who got more powerful by the second, the Willow who would scare her sometimes. But not anymore.
Tara was standing in front of her closet, naked, trying to make up her mind about what to wear. Willow wouldn’t arrive before eight o’clock, so she could change into her pajamas. She probably should clean up first, too. She took the bathrobe from the hook and slipped into it, taking a pair of sweat pants and a blue tanktop with her. No underwear, she decided, and left the room to go and take a shower, grabbbing a towel on her way out.
It was still dark outside when she returned, her top clinging to her still slightly wet skin, the towel wrapped around her hair. Tara put the bathrobe back onto the hanger and left it on the door to dry. Six thirty. She picked up the blow dryer and a brush. It felt strange to do it without a mirror, but it was not as hard as she had thought it would be. As soon as her hair was dry, she shook her head, relishing in the feel of it against her skin. Everything was so much more intense. She was vaguely worried Willow might smell Darla on her, but she suspected she could only pick it up because of her heightened senses.
Tara looked around her. The room was a mess. There was some blood left - her blood - on the floor, and she used the towel to clean it up. She then collected the discarded clothes, which were torn and which she wouldn’t be able to wear again. She didn’t mind much -those clothes belonged to her old life. To her life. She made the bed, smoothed over the covers, and closed the drapes. She lit some candles and then settled down back on the bed, folding her legs. It was amazing, she could feel the power rushing through her and she wasn’t doing anything. It was like Darla had told her - What wonders we will do, my little witch. What wonders.
When Darla had explained to her that she was to kill Willow, she had been delighted. Yes, she wanted to do it, and she knew how. Darla hadn’t asked - she knew she could trust her. She had agreed to leave them alone, at least for a while. She had forbidden Tara to turn her, however; she wanted her dead. Willow was the one responsible for Angelus deserting her, Drusilla had told her. Angelus was gone and he would never return, and it was Willow’s fault.
“I had not expected to find you,” Darla had said, leaning over her, her nipples brushing over Tara’s. She had only gasped in reply, her head thrown back. Darla had found her and now she was hers, completely. “I will show you the world,” she had promised her; they only had to do this one thing before they could leave. Their vengeance would be swift and cruel and beautiful; Tara had never been as happy when she was alive.
Seven fourty-five. Willow’s classes started at nine, so she should arrive soon: she’d need to change and pick up her books and notes. She would never risk not being on time, Tara knew. She smiled. She fully intended to make her miss her first class, and every class after that.
Finally, she could hear Willow approaching. She stopped outside their room to talk to someone in the hall; Tara sat up straight and took a deep breath, just for show. She did her best to look concerned, while at the same time making sure one of the straps of her tanktop would slide down her shoulder.
The door opened and Willow stepped inside, a worried expression on her face. “Hey,” she greeted her.
“Hey.” Tara gave her a lopsided smile.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Willow asked. “Don’t you have class at eight?” She walked over to the desk and started gathering her books.
“I thought I’d wait for you. I wanted to talk to you, you know, after everything…”
“Yeah. I guess we should talk.” She sounded unenthusiastic, and Tara sighed.
“Listen, Willow, I don’t want to - take anything from you. But you have to be careful - there are some things you have to just let be.”
“I know. I know that, and I promise I won’t do it again. Just -“ Willow dropped her books and walked over to the bed, kneeling down in front of her. She looked at her pleadingly. “Just don’t be mad at me, please.” She took Tara’s hands in hers. “You’re cold,” she said, rubbing her thumbs over them. “Are you alright?”
“I was just worried.” Tara smiled. “And I’m not mad at you. I just - I was just worried. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Me neither,” Willow confessed. “It was so horrible, lying there without you next to me. I never want to be without you, Tara.” She looked directly into Tara’s eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” It was so easy to lie.
Willow’s face lit up. “Good. And I won’t let magic come between us, I promise. I - I will be more careful, and you can teach me all I need to know. About the universe and the laws and rules and such.”
“I will.” Tara laughed. Then she looked at Willow with a mischievous smile. “You know what?”
“What?”
“This was our first real fight, right?”
“I guess.” Willow frowned. “Why?”
“Well… isn’t there usually make-up sex?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. Willow opened her mouth but no sound came out of it. Tara spread her legs slightly and let herself slide into Willow’s lap. “What do you say?” she murmured, pressing against her.
“I - I have class,” Willow replied.
“Mmmh…” Tara leaned over to suck Willow’s earlobe. “Don’t you think you could miss it? Just this once? For this… special occasion?” Her hands slipped under Willow’s shirt, caressing her back.
Willow shivered. “You’re so cold…” she sighed.
“Then warm me.” Swiftly, Tara unhooked Willow’s bra and started to push up Willow’s shirt before pulling it over her head. “I like you naked.”
Willow mirrored her actions, quickly discarding Tara’s top. She kissed down Tara’s neck before tracing the outline of her breasts with her tongue, teasing her. “Yes,” Tara hissed. She leaned back, her hands wandering up and down Willow’s back, almost touching her breasts. Willow moaned before capturing one of her nipples with her mouth. “Yes,” Tara repeated. She didn’t want her to stop, didn’t want to make her stop, not until she had gotten what she wanted. She wanted all of it, all of her, and she would get it. Now. She grabbed Willow’s shoulders and pulled her away, roughly, causing her to look at her, confused. Tara didn’t say anything, she simply leaned over to kiss her, before pushing her down on the floor.
“Shouldn’t we - the bed?” Willow gasped, but then Tara’s knee was between her legs and she rocked against her and all was forgotten. She started fiddling with Tara’s sweats and let out a triumphant cry when she managed to pull them down her hips. She slid her hand down Tara’s body, between her own, and Tara was cool, oh so cool, but wet, and familiar, and she gasped when she found her clit. Tara’s back was arched, upwards, and she looked beautiful, so very beautiful, and Willow was amazed that she could make Tara look like that, eyes closed, mouth open and yes, yes, yes, Tara hissed, shouted, cried. She buried her face in Willow’s neck when she came, and Willow slid her arms around her, pulling her close. Tara was still cold.
Tara bit her neck, bit and licked. She kissed her, kissed her everywhere, every spot down her neck, her breasts, her belly. She licked around her nipples, her bellybutton, and by the time she reached Willow’s skirt, Willow was panting, waiting for her. She lifted her hips so Tara could undress her more easily, but all she did was take off her skirt. Willow was left lying on the floor with just her panties on while Tara continued kissing her, her feet, her knees, her thighs. She placed a kiss on the damp spot on Willow’s panties and Willow moaned loudly. Instead of pulling them off, Tara merely pushed them aside and started licking everywhere she could reach. Willow pushed against her, she needed more. Tara gave her a teasing and cruel smile. She knew what Willow wanted, but this time she didn’t care.
She heard the click of the door and she knew it was time. She glanced at Willow who was looking back at her, full of trust and love and Tara grinned. She could smell, feel Darla, standing in the door, but she kept concentrating on Willow. Tara slowly, deliberately licked over Willow’s clit and knew she had her where she wanted.
“I love you,” Willow gasped.
And then she screamed as Tara slammed her teeth into the tender skin of her thighs. “Tara! Tara! What -“ Her skin was still cool against hers, so cool, so cold, and Tara was sucking at the wound on her thigh. Her eyes met Willow’s and then looked up and Willow recognized Darla standing over her, smiling.
Willow started struggling, but Tara’s arms were strong and she couldn’t move. Darla knelt down and Willow watched as she and Tara kissed, and the sight was more unbearable than the pain in her thighs. They separated and Tara pulled her up a little, and then she was trapped between Tara and Darla, who had wrapped her arms around her waist. Tara’s face was all wrong, all morphed, Tara was gone, It’s not your friend anymore, she could hear Giles say. She was crying, Darla was naked, and she and Tara kissed again. Willow looked away, her glance falling on the candles and books and hope flared inside her. Her lips were forming the words of a spell but before she could finish it, Tara stopped her. Willow didn’t know how, but she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think anymore. Tara was too strong, too horrible; it was over.
Tara’s mouth was on her neck, and Darla’s too; they started feeding on her at the same moment. Willow could feel Tara’s skin on hers, and she wrapped her arms around her, trying to hold on to her, to the woman she loved. Willow gasped and moaned, let out a stiffled cry; she was gone.
~*~*~
They lick each other clean, like cats. Afterwards, Tara curls up on the bed and watches as Darla goes through Willow’s wardrobe. She discards most of the clothes as ridiculous - too fuzzy, too childish, too what the hell is this, she mutters - but in the end she finds a skirt and a top she likes. Tara starts masturbating after a while; she is bored.
Darla smoothes down her shirt and turns around to look at her new plaything. Companion. She tilts her head. Decisions, Decisions. There are some mistakes she won’t make again - they will stay away from gypsies, for one thing. They will kill the slayer and then leave Sunnydale, California, maybe America. Who knew, maybe the little witch could find a way to bring back Angelus. Maybe they could kill him together. “So many possibilities...”
Tara looks up, panting. Darla smiles. “Let me help you with that.” She slowly crawls towards Tara and finally lies down next to her. She knows she is hungry; the very young are always so greedy. Darla offers her her breasts and Tara accepts.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Darla/Tara, Willow/Tara
Word Count: 4,256
Warning: Character deaths, darkfic
Disclaimer: Oh how I wish Tara was mine. But she, Darla and Willow, as well as all other characters and situations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. I'm not making any money with this.
Notes: Many, many thanks to my betas wolf_cat, roadrunner1896 and carawj. And to the Slashstammtisch for helping me realize that I could just cut out the middle manpire :)
~*~*~
When Darla kisses her, Tara feels almost alive.
They have to wait until dark arrives, watch as the dusk creeps over Sunnydale. Darla is dressed in Willow’s clothes, a light flowery skirt, a low-cut crimson top a little too tight. Darla’s scent is mingled with Willow’s; Tara drinks it in greedily, licking her lips, which still hold a faint taste of Willow’s blood. She’s wearing one of her usual outifts, a pair of jeans, a dark blue sweater.
Her pants are still unbuttoned; Darla has ordered her to keep her hand between her legs while she is kneeling in front of her, her head buried in her lap. Willow’s clothes, Willow’s scent surround her, yet all she wants is Darla Darla Darla, and she licks and pushes and bites. Darla’s hand is on her head, holding her in place, guiding her. Tara doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she knows Willow’s body on the floor is cold. She shivers when she hears Darla moan and she comes when Darla tells her to, calling her name. Darla, Darla, Darla pulls her up into her arms, and Tara collapses next to her on the bed. It is still a little light out, it is not yet time. They are meeting Buffy at the Bronze later; they will kill her. After that, they are going to leave Sunnydale; Darla doesn’t care about any of the others. All she wants is revenge, and revenge means Willow’s death and Buffy’s death.
Tara pushes up Darla’s shirt, cupping her breasts before licking them, sucking them. She is like a child, eagerly feeding on Darla’s breasts, but now her hand is buried between Darla’s legs, fingers teasing her, pushing inside her. She is slow, she is fast, she takes what she needs. They have to wait before Tara can safely feed; Darla doesn’t want to take any risks, and Tara obeys.
Darla watches Tara pleasing her, she is beautiful. Her expression is one of want and abandon, mixed with still lingering traces of sweetness and innocence. This is not what she came for, but it is not unwelcome. Tara’s teeth scrape over her skin, Darla cannot help arching against her. Again, she climaxes; Tara is insatiable and Darla doesn’t mind. Tara’s lips find hers and they kiss, hungrily
People in the other rooms are turning their lights on, it is time. Still kissing, they get up, straightening their clothes. Tara walks over to the mirror to pick up her hairbrush, stepping over Willow. She brushes her hair and then hands the brush to Darla with a suggestive smile. Darla laughs and shakes her head. Later.
~*~*~
Later, Tara thought, furiously. We’ll talk about it later.. Yeah, right. With Willow, later meant tomorrow, or the day after that, or never. For all her love for talking, Willow did not like to talk about things, especially when those things concerned her use of magic.
Tara was on her way back to the dorms. She had been over at Buffy’s house, together with Willow and Xander. Dawn was visiting a friend, and Buffy had told them all about Dawn’s attempt to raise Mrs Summers from the dead. Tara had been horrified to hear it. How could Dawn have known about such a spell? One look at Willow, though, had been enough. She had excused herself soon after that; claiming that it would be good for the three friends to spend some time alone together. Of course Willow had known, and of course she had apologized. But what good were apologies when it came to raising the dead? It was wrong, it was against everything Tara had been taught, and no matter how often she tried to explain it to Willow, she didn’t understand.
With a sigh, she opened the door to their room. She toed off her shoes and left them near the entrance, not caring about putting them back in their right place. She walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out the book she knew Willow had shown to Dawn. Tara sat down on the bed and started to leaf through the book. When she found the spell, her anger flared up once more. How could Willow not understand? Sometimes she wondered whether it was good or bad that Willow didn’t know exactly how much power she possessed. It might help make her more cautious. Or it might end up making her more reckless.
The phone rang; it was Willow telling her she would stay the night at Buffy’s. They hardly ever spent their nights apart, and despite everything that had happened the room felt too empty. Tara was about to change into her pajamas when there was a knock on the door. She frowned; maybe it was Anya? On her way to the entrance she picked up her shoes and put them into the closet where they belonged.
When she opened the door, there was a woman she had never seen before. A tiny blonde, she reminded her a bit of Buffy, but there was something very different about her. Tara shrugged it off; her fight with Willow was obviously affecting her more than she would like.
“Hello? Can I help you?” she asked.
“Hello.” The woman’s voice was raspy yet sweet, and her smile was beautiful. She was wearing a red party dress, and holding a small bag in her hand. “I’m looking for Willow Rosenberg?”
“Oh. Um. She isn’t here right now. Why - were you supposed to meet her?”
The woman laughed, a bright and sparkly laugh. Of course Willow wasn’t seeing other women behind her back, but it worried her that Willow knew women as beautiful as this one.
“No, she didn’t know I’d come by. I’m not even sure she knows me. I was just hoping she could help me with my chemistry notes. I missed a couple of classes since I am new here and everybody said that she was the one to go to. We have a test tomorrow, so…” The woman looked at her hopefully.
“Well, she isn’t here, but I can check whether her notes are here. I can’t give them to you, but you can have a look, if you want.”
“That would be great! Thank you!” She beamed. “I’m Darla, by the way.”
“Tara.” She hesitated for a moment, but when she saw Darla’s hopeful smile, she opened the door a little wider. “Do you want to come in while I look for the notes?”
She didn’t move. “Are you sure?” She fiddled a little with her purse.
“Sure! Come in.” Tara gestured her inside and closed the door behind her. “You can sit down on the bed if you want to. The chair’s kind of… occupied.” She pointed to the heap of clothes lying on it.
“Thank you.” As Tara went over to the desk to look for Willow’s notes, Darla wandered over to the bookshelf. “You’re interested in witchcraft?”
“Oh.” Tara looked up. She wasn’t really used to having strangers around. Strangers who didn’t know anything about witches, and vampires and slayers. “Um. It’s for… classes.”
“I see.” That answer seemed to be enough to satisfy her and Tara let out a relieved sigh.
“I’m not sure I can find her notes. I -“
When she heard something behind her, she turned around. Darla was standing really close to her now, smiling. “It’s okay.”
“Really? What - what about your test tomorrow?”
“I don’t care about the test.” Darla’s voice was low as she stepped even closer. Tara looked at her, transfixed before realizing Darla was about to kiss her. She almost jumped backwards.
“No! I mean - no! I’m sorry but -“ Tara didn’t know where to look. “I mean - Willow and I - she’s my -“
Again, Darla laughed. “Good. My mommy always said I wasn’t to play with my food anyway.”
The second she said that, Tara knew. She tried to fight back, she tried to struggle, but Darla’s arms closed around hers and she was pushed against the wall. Darla’s face morphed and Darla’s lips were on her neck. Her teeth punctured her skin and when Tara smelled blood she knew it was her own.
~*~*~
The next thing Tara remembers is her mother, holding her. She is safe, she is home, she is warm. Tara sighs and buries her head between her mother’s breasts, resuming her suckling. Her arms are wrapped around her mother’s waist, she is kneeling on the floor and back in her mind she knows that something is wrong. But she doesn’t care, she doesn’t want to care; this is how it should be. Her mother is running her fingers through her hair, a gentle caress, and Tara sighs once more, content.
At that moment, she is pulled away. Tara lets out a whimper. She needs, she wants more. She licks her lips, they taste salty.
“That’s enough for now.” She knows that voice, it is not her mother’s. She looks up, and Darla is smiling at her.
“What-“ What happened?, she wants to ask, but she knows what happened. She can feel Darla’s blood in her veins, she can feel a strength she has never had before. How?, her next question, she can answer by herself too. “Why?” she finally asks. Darla, who has been standing while feeding her, walks over to the bed.
“Sit.”
Tara obeys. Darla turns to face her and puts one hand on her thigh while using the other to push strands of hair behind Tara’s ears.
“My pretty one,” she whispers. The hand on Tara’s thigh moves upwards, making her shiver. “When do you think your girlfriend will be back?”
“My girlfriend?” Tara frowns. “Willow… I think she’ll be back in the morning, before class. What time is it?”
It’s still dark outside; a glance at her clock tells her she hasn’t been - dead for long. “We have at least seven more hours,” she tells Darla, who looks pleased.
“Good. That’ll leave us enough time to get a little more… acquainted with each other, don’t you think?” Tara’s eyes widen at that. Darla’s hand has crept up even higher; she lightly traces her fingers over her crotch.
“But - but what about your plans? What - why are we waiting for Willow?”
Darla leans over to whisper into her ear. “I’ll tell you later.” She catches Tara’s earlobe between her teeth before moving to kiss her cheek. It’s the first time anyone other than Willow kisses, touches her like that, and she enjoys it. When Darla’s lips meet hers, she returns the kiss hungrily; she moans and cups Darla’s face, pulling her closer. She can feel Darla laugh, and fury washes over her, mixed with desire. Her kisses become more forceful, and she pushes Darla down onto the bed, grinding against her. Darla is still laughing, but a few moans escape her throat when Tara finds her way to her breasts. The wound from which Tara drank is almost healed, she licks over it once, hard before pulling down the straps of Darla’s dress, pushing it down. She cups Darla’s breasts with her hands, they are bigger than Willow’s and still unfamiliar. Tara flicks over a nipple with her thumb; when there is no reaction, she uses her mouth, her teeth and bites down, first gently, then hard as Darla moans and arches into her. She is elated and wants more, so much more.
Darla’s skin is cold, she revels in the feel of it against her own. She is still dressed in her old clothes, a shirt, a skirt, but she doesn't bother to undress. She is still busy teasing Darla’s breasts when Darla pushes her downwards, hissing “Down. Now. Fuck,” through gritted teeth. Tara does what she is told, eager to please. Darla’s folds are wet, she dips into them easily. Darla is impatient and Tara knows what to do, pushing two fingers inside her, three as she demands more. She uses her thumb to rub over her clit and Darla is moving under her, beautiful, oh so beautiful. Tara is leaning over her, watching her as Darla pulls her down to kiss her; she bites her lips so hard that there is blood. When she comes, she looks right into Tara’s eyes, she seems determined, satisfied.
Then it is her turn to please Tara; she discards her own dress before sliding down Tara’s body, undressing her. She bites and licks and sucks and Tara moans. She belongs to her now, she knows, and Darla is careful to bind her to her. She will not make the same mistakes again; she marks her with her teeth, her skillful tongue. Her teeth scrape the tender skin of the inside of her thighs and soon Tara's blood mixes with her juices and she knows the other can tell. Darla circles her clit with her tongue, tasting her, all of her, and she sucks and pushes into her, Tara grinding against her before coming with a scream.
They use the night well, and in between Darla explains to Tara what she has planned. In the early hours of the morning she gets dressed and leaves. She won’t be far, she tells her.
~*~*~
Tara loved Willow, she always had. Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night and instead of going back to sleep, she’d simply lie there and watch Willow, red hair spread out on the pillow, pale skin shimmering in the dark. She’d feel so right in those moments: she was where she belonged, this was what she had been waiting for all her life. Willow was her everything, more than she had ever thought she’d have.
Now there was nothing. It was strange, this absence of feeling. Tara tried to recall the Willow who had made her feel loved, more out of idle curiosity than anything else. But all she remembered was the Willow who would never listen to her, the Willow who got more powerful by the second, the Willow who would scare her sometimes. But not anymore.
Tara was standing in front of her closet, naked, trying to make up her mind about what to wear. Willow wouldn’t arrive before eight o’clock, so she could change into her pajamas. She probably should clean up first, too. She took the bathrobe from the hook and slipped into it, taking a pair of sweat pants and a blue tanktop with her. No underwear, she decided, and left the room to go and take a shower, grabbbing a towel on her way out.
It was still dark outside when she returned, her top clinging to her still slightly wet skin, the towel wrapped around her hair. Tara put the bathrobe back onto the hanger and left it on the door to dry. Six thirty. She picked up the blow dryer and a brush. It felt strange to do it without a mirror, but it was not as hard as she had thought it would be. As soon as her hair was dry, she shook her head, relishing in the feel of it against her skin. Everything was so much more intense. She was vaguely worried Willow might smell Darla on her, but she suspected she could only pick it up because of her heightened senses.
Tara looked around her. The room was a mess. There was some blood left - her blood - on the floor, and she used the towel to clean it up. She then collected the discarded clothes, which were torn and which she wouldn’t be able to wear again. She didn’t mind much -those clothes belonged to her old life. To her life. She made the bed, smoothed over the covers, and closed the drapes. She lit some candles and then settled down back on the bed, folding her legs. It was amazing, she could feel the power rushing through her and she wasn’t doing anything. It was like Darla had told her - What wonders we will do, my little witch. What wonders.
When Darla had explained to her that she was to kill Willow, she had been delighted. Yes, she wanted to do it, and she knew how. Darla hadn’t asked - she knew she could trust her. She had agreed to leave them alone, at least for a while. She had forbidden Tara to turn her, however; she wanted her dead. Willow was the one responsible for Angelus deserting her, Drusilla had told her. Angelus was gone and he would never return, and it was Willow’s fault.
“I had not expected to find you,” Darla had said, leaning over her, her nipples brushing over Tara’s. She had only gasped in reply, her head thrown back. Darla had found her and now she was hers, completely. “I will show you the world,” she had promised her; they only had to do this one thing before they could leave. Their vengeance would be swift and cruel and beautiful; Tara had never been as happy when she was alive.
Seven fourty-five. Willow’s classes started at nine, so she should arrive soon: she’d need to change and pick up her books and notes. She would never risk not being on time, Tara knew. She smiled. She fully intended to make her miss her first class, and every class after that.
Finally, she could hear Willow approaching. She stopped outside their room to talk to someone in the hall; Tara sat up straight and took a deep breath, just for show. She did her best to look concerned, while at the same time making sure one of the straps of her tanktop would slide down her shoulder.
The door opened and Willow stepped inside, a worried expression on her face. “Hey,” she greeted her.
“Hey.” Tara gave her a lopsided smile.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Willow asked. “Don’t you have class at eight?” She walked over to the desk and started gathering her books.
“I thought I’d wait for you. I wanted to talk to you, you know, after everything…”
“Yeah. I guess we should talk.” She sounded unenthusiastic, and Tara sighed.
“Listen, Willow, I don’t want to - take anything from you. But you have to be careful - there are some things you have to just let be.”
“I know. I know that, and I promise I won’t do it again. Just -“ Willow dropped her books and walked over to the bed, kneeling down in front of her. She looked at her pleadingly. “Just don’t be mad at me, please.” She took Tara’s hands in hers. “You’re cold,” she said, rubbing her thumbs over them. “Are you alright?”
“I was just worried.” Tara smiled. “And I’m not mad at you. I just - I was just worried. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Me neither,” Willow confessed. “It was so horrible, lying there without you next to me. I never want to be without you, Tara.” She looked directly into Tara’s eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” It was so easy to lie.
Willow’s face lit up. “Good. And I won’t let magic come between us, I promise. I - I will be more careful, and you can teach me all I need to know. About the universe and the laws and rules and such.”
“I will.” Tara laughed. Then she looked at Willow with a mischievous smile. “You know what?”
“What?”
“This was our first real fight, right?”
“I guess.” Willow frowned. “Why?”
“Well… isn’t there usually make-up sex?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. Willow opened her mouth but no sound came out of it. Tara spread her legs slightly and let herself slide into Willow’s lap. “What do you say?” she murmured, pressing against her.
“I - I have class,” Willow replied.
“Mmmh…” Tara leaned over to suck Willow’s earlobe. “Don’t you think you could miss it? Just this once? For this… special occasion?” Her hands slipped under Willow’s shirt, caressing her back.
Willow shivered. “You’re so cold…” she sighed.
“Then warm me.” Swiftly, Tara unhooked Willow’s bra and started to push up Willow’s shirt before pulling it over her head. “I like you naked.”
Willow mirrored her actions, quickly discarding Tara’s top. She kissed down Tara’s neck before tracing the outline of her breasts with her tongue, teasing her. “Yes,” Tara hissed. She leaned back, her hands wandering up and down Willow’s back, almost touching her breasts. Willow moaned before capturing one of her nipples with her mouth. “Yes,” Tara repeated. She didn’t want her to stop, didn’t want to make her stop, not until she had gotten what she wanted. She wanted all of it, all of her, and she would get it. Now. She grabbed Willow’s shoulders and pulled her away, roughly, causing her to look at her, confused. Tara didn’t say anything, she simply leaned over to kiss her, before pushing her down on the floor.
“Shouldn’t we - the bed?” Willow gasped, but then Tara’s knee was between her legs and she rocked against her and all was forgotten. She started fiddling with Tara’s sweats and let out a triumphant cry when she managed to pull them down her hips. She slid her hand down Tara’s body, between her own, and Tara was cool, oh so cool, but wet, and familiar, and she gasped when she found her clit. Tara’s back was arched, upwards, and she looked beautiful, so very beautiful, and Willow was amazed that she could make Tara look like that, eyes closed, mouth open and yes, yes, yes, Tara hissed, shouted, cried. She buried her face in Willow’s neck when she came, and Willow slid her arms around her, pulling her close. Tara was still cold.
Tara bit her neck, bit and licked. She kissed her, kissed her everywhere, every spot down her neck, her breasts, her belly. She licked around her nipples, her bellybutton, and by the time she reached Willow’s skirt, Willow was panting, waiting for her. She lifted her hips so Tara could undress her more easily, but all she did was take off her skirt. Willow was left lying on the floor with just her panties on while Tara continued kissing her, her feet, her knees, her thighs. She placed a kiss on the damp spot on Willow’s panties and Willow moaned loudly. Instead of pulling them off, Tara merely pushed them aside and started licking everywhere she could reach. Willow pushed against her, she needed more. Tara gave her a teasing and cruel smile. She knew what Willow wanted, but this time she didn’t care.
She heard the click of the door and she knew it was time. She glanced at Willow who was looking back at her, full of trust and love and Tara grinned. She could smell, feel Darla, standing in the door, but she kept concentrating on Willow. Tara slowly, deliberately licked over Willow’s clit and knew she had her where she wanted.
“I love you,” Willow gasped.
And then she screamed as Tara slammed her teeth into the tender skin of her thighs. “Tara! Tara! What -“ Her skin was still cool against hers, so cool, so cold, and Tara was sucking at the wound on her thigh. Her eyes met Willow’s and then looked up and Willow recognized Darla standing over her, smiling.
Willow started struggling, but Tara’s arms were strong and she couldn’t move. Darla knelt down and Willow watched as she and Tara kissed, and the sight was more unbearable than the pain in her thighs. They separated and Tara pulled her up a little, and then she was trapped between Tara and Darla, who had wrapped her arms around her waist. Tara’s face was all wrong, all morphed, Tara was gone, It’s not your friend anymore, she could hear Giles say. She was crying, Darla was naked, and she and Tara kissed again. Willow looked away, her glance falling on the candles and books and hope flared inside her. Her lips were forming the words of a spell but before she could finish it, Tara stopped her. Willow didn’t know how, but she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think anymore. Tara was too strong, too horrible; it was over.
Tara’s mouth was on her neck, and Darla’s too; they started feeding on her at the same moment. Willow could feel Tara’s skin on hers, and she wrapped her arms around her, trying to hold on to her, to the woman she loved. Willow gasped and moaned, let out a stiffled cry; she was gone.
~*~*~
They lick each other clean, like cats. Afterwards, Tara curls up on the bed and watches as Darla goes through Willow’s wardrobe. She discards most of the clothes as ridiculous - too fuzzy, too childish, too what the hell is this, she mutters - but in the end she finds a skirt and a top she likes. Tara starts masturbating after a while; she is bored.
Darla smoothes down her shirt and turns around to look at her new plaything. Companion. She tilts her head. Decisions, Decisions. There are some mistakes she won’t make again - they will stay away from gypsies, for one thing. They will kill the slayer and then leave Sunnydale, California, maybe America. Who knew, maybe the little witch could find a way to bring back Angelus. Maybe they could kill him together. “So many possibilities...”
Tara looks up, panting. Darla smiles. “Let me help you with that.” She slowly crawls towards Tara and finally lies down next to her. She knows she is hungry; the very young are always so greedy. Darla offers her her breasts and Tara accepts.