May 2003, Flashfic
Challenge #1 - Buffy/Spike/Tara
Takes place during BtVS Season 6
Tara flipped on the light switch to the room and was rewarded by a faint clicking sound and continued darkness. She sighed, resigned, and waded into the room, careful to avoid stepping on anything. Tucking a length of hair behind one ear, she bent down to sift through the boxes on the floor, debating on which ones she could carry away tonight. It felt strange, being here, even though she'd lived here for months, and the room smelled so strongly of Willow that it was almost more than she could bear.
Willow was blessedly absent, and wasn't supposed to return tonight. Tara had been grateful to Buffy for the 'head's up'. Things were easier this way. Still, there was the part of her that missed Willow and loved her, angry though she might be, and that part of her couldn't help but wish her former lover had been here. That they might have talked, or touched... or kissed... Familiar sights and scents filled her heart with a strange hollow ache, and she pushed away the feeling with annoyance.
A muffled noise from outside interrupted her thoughts. Frowning slightly, she walked quietly to the window, peered around the gauzy curtain and froze in surprise.
Of course, Buffy had told her about this... she'd confided in Tara about it. At the time, Tara hadn't really been able to fathom it, hadn't been able to see what they might see in each other. But standing there at the darkened window, she could see all too well. And she couldn't look away.
Beautiful... breathtaking. Both sculpted as if from marble, Spike pale and Buffy pink, entwined in a tangle of rounded curves and angled lines. Passion paced impatiently around the edges of their fingers and kisses like a hungry tiger, mouths devouring, hands clutching each other, caressing. Buffy's hair trailed over his face as she rolled her head back, mouth open in a silent gasp, neck exposed. Spike kissed the hollow of her throat, then moved on, mouth trailing down her chest, lingering on the creamy flesh of her breast, pale pink tongue almost the same shade as the rosebud nipple it flickered over. He took the tiny bud between his lips and suckled it into his mouth, drawing Buffy tight against him, and even in this, in so small a motion, Tara could see the love in him, the way he gave her everything. All his passion, all his fire. Everything he knew how to give. She didn't see that love in Buffy, but she saw the same intensity. Her skin fairly glowed with desire, every graceful curve begged for more of him. Slowly, teasing, he tasted the cradle of her hips as if suckling wine from a jeweled chalice, worshipping and relishing every drop like a dying man in the desert. Buffy arched against him like a cat, giving him every bit of her body.
They were gorgeous and proud and meant to be seen, like peacocks.
Tara's fingers touched the cool glass and traced the outlines of their bodies there, twined together as they were, and she smiled sadly. Once she had had that. Once she had known love and desire so overwhelming that it had swept her away with the force of its pull.
She wondered if she would ever know such love again.
Her fingertips trembled against the glass, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from rising. The force of emotion brought her back to herself, and she suddenly realized what she was doing.
Her hand dropped and she turned away, leaving them to the intimacy of their embrace. Alone again, the memories of the room were too recent, too fresh, and she suddenly missed Willow with an ache that left her feeling like she couldn't breathe.
She fell to the bed and clutched at the blankets, burying her face in the soft down pillows that smelled of Willow. Part of her didn't want to do this. She wanted to be brave, be strong, and not admit a moment of weakness. But here in the darkness, near to everything she had held so dear and everything she had lost, witness to such love, she couldn't be strong anymore.
Fingers traced arcane symbols upon the bedspread, and she drew the energy of the room close, wanting only to taste the love she remembered, wanting to know again what it meant to be adored and worshipped. She let her control slip for just a second, let her soul peek out and smile in the sunshine of memory.
Her awareness seemed to divide, and all at once, she was everywhere. She could feel Spike's tongue swirl over her clit, could taste Buffy's honeyed juices inside her mouth, foreign and yet familiar, could feel her own hands pressed against her yearning body and it was oh... Oh Hecate it was exquisite! Fingers slid slowly in and out of her, Spike's tongue and mouth never relenting as they drove her toward the brink, and oh, she could tell by the tremble of Buffy's body that Buffy was close, and she suckled harder on sweet pink flesh, pressed upward against hot, inner walls. Buffy cried out and exploded and Tara came with her, Spike's mouth never ceasing its dance as they both bucked their hips against the blissful, shuddering waves of pleasure, crying out and tossing their heads, Tara nearly overwhelmed by the overlapping sensations of their shared orgasm.
Panting, out of breath, still twitching, she opened her eyes and gasped, snapping off the spell abruptly as Spike began to enter Buffy. What had she done? She hadn't meant for that to happen.
Trembling and shame-faced, she rose from the bed and fled the house.
But memories of lost love and faded desire went with her, pressed into her mind as perfectly as a flower between the pages of a heavy book.
She knew the tiny moments Buffy and Spike shared weren't enough for either one.
And still, somehow, she envied them.