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Title: The Master Willow
Series: The Return Of Wicked Red
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: if it pleases you, do :).
Summary: This Chapter: OW, Such Big Teeth Willow Has.
Chapter Seven
The moon shone bright through the curtains. Willow was dimly aware of its serene
light and how it bathed their entwined selves upon the small bed. Kitten’s
heartbeat was beneath her fingers, and a gentle hand stroked her hair. Every
inch of her dead self, inside and out, felt...toasty. Fried, but in a really
good way. Willow wanted to say, ‘Wow, that was really...’ but nothing
came from her mouth except maybe a valiant, “wuh...”. She wanted to
quip, ‘I think I died--again’. But the funny whimpered like a wee,
weak thing in her unobliging throat.
She felt Kitten’s deep chuckle rumble beneath her ear, and the hand continued
to stroke her hair.
This beautiful moment. She wanted--oh, but she was a vampire through and through,
wasn’t she? They had just connected on a white light level; rendered thoroughly
sated and left floating in that rare peace a demon like herself was far too
damned to deserve. And there was no doubt as to her damned self. Despite this
beautiful moment, she wanted to make another equally beautiful bond with Kitten,
but of the darker, bloodier kind.
The creature that had stood on the catwalk of the Bronze and had mouthed words
of promise to a blue-eyed pure heart was still in this bed, although quite humbled
by a multi-orgasmic baptism in white magic. She can blame that creature for
the tiny licks she now bestowed upon Kitten’s soft, pulsing throat.
Tara felt a hesitant tongue lap a steady rhythm against her neck and her hand
stilled in the vampire’s hair. At first she was amused, then she realized
that the licks were communicating something...a need, a...
A supplication.
Tara frowned slightly. Did Willow want another go? Because she rather felt that
she wouldn’t be able to duplicate that magic blast. Not tonight, anyway.
And she’d thought that she had nearly killed Willow when the vampire could
not stop convulsing. As Tara mused, the licking progressed to the soft attachment
of lips to the spot receiving attention, and then a very gentle sucking.
Then Willow nipped her.
Oh.
Tara’s hand resumed petting the vampire’s hair--if anything, to let
the soothing gesture placate that nibbling mouth while she thought. She knew
this was going to happen. She even accepted it happening, but it still didn’t
make the act no less...scary, for its significance. No longer just some blood
act of violence and hunger, it will be a ritual; a pact. It would be her final
acquiescence of what Willow was; the predator superior to her.
Tara sighed deep within her. And it will be an act considered a betrayal of
her own kind--if the ‘sleeping with the enemy’ part hadn’t already.
Funny, who we choose to treat us right, Tara, she heard her mother’s
voice softly laugh, from a bittersweet, long ago time.
She placed her other hand in the vampire’s hair, and gently turned the
sweet face to look at her. She saw something in the large, expressive eyes she
had never seen before, nor ever expected to see.
Amazed, Tara could only stare and take in all the subtle aspects of that emotional
gaze. She did not think a vampire could be so...capable. It moved her heart.
“No more fasting?” she whispered. And she softened the small jest
with a sly quirk of her mouth.
If Willow still had a heart that thumped, it would be doing that now--perhaps
a mile a minute--because she was feeling a most rare feeling for her; a certain
kind of fear. Fear of what? she had thought, when lapping her silent pleas at
Kitten’s throat. She had reason to fear all sorts of things in her vampire
life, but never something like this. This was fear of rejection.
Want things; take things. She never asked. And when Kitten took gentle hold
of her face and turned it to meet her gaze, Willow had no idea how vulnerable
her fear had made her face. All she thought as she tried to read the blue eyes
before her was her one question: Let me, Kitten? Let me?
And then Kitten joked, so subtly, Willow almost didn’t understand, and
when she did, the fear all fled and was replaced by elation, because yay! She’ll
get to bite Kitten, and mark her, and drink of her, and show all others that
the witch was hers and only hers and she’ll kill anyone who tried to threaten
that. Then wonderment set in, because Kitten was so beautiful, so of the good,
and Willow so of the bad yet still the young woman agreed. Still, she acquiesced.
Willow moved to hover above her, and Tara’s hand caressed the emotions
that flitted in the vampire’s visage, each one teaching her more. When
the emotions concluded their parade at one Tara was familiar with--Willowish
smugness--Tara couldn’t help a rueful smile. She could not find in the
vampire’s expressive face what she was expected to see. For this moment,
no coldness, no cruelty lived there.
“Show me,” she asked softly.
Willow’s smug smirk faded, and a serious regard took its place. Tara held
her breath.
Willow let the demon out.
A noise accompanied the change, Tara silently thought as Willow’s forehead
broke into brutish ridges. Perhaps it was the sound of bone breaking, or perhaps
of teeth lengthening into large, threatening incisors. The green and whites
that were Willow’s human eyes disappeared and were replaced with demonic
slits surrounded by pure yellow. It was a face to naturally fear, and although
Tara felt trepidation and some adrenaline at having such a face so close above
hers, she was not frightened. This demon Willow was the same as the one who
hovered above her just moments before. She could see no cruelty in those yellow
eyes. If Willow had been angry before her change, then Tara would have reason
to be very afraid.
“Say something,” the young woman whispered suddenly, as her fingers
gently ran over the strange ridges.
“Something,” Willow said, and Tara nearly laughed, because the voice
was still the same girlish sound, but with a slight lisp. Those darn fangs.
“Does it hurt when you change?” Tara asked.
“No, actually, it--Kitten I can’t talk if you touch those,” Willow
suddenly chastised, as the blonde’s inquisitive fingers went into her mouth
to explore the length of one long incisor. “And they’re very pointy
and sharp, so better you don’t.” And she removed Kitten’s hand.
“You have alot of control,” Tara said in quiet appraisal. “You’re
not all ‘grr arg’, even when you have your ‘arg’ face on.”
“If I were a fledgling, you’d be drained dry by now,” Willow
said grumpily, even as she gently kissed the hand. “I am still this demon,
with this face or without it,” she murmured into the palm.
“I know,” Tara simply agreed and moved Willow’s face to kiss
her.
It had to be a careful kiss; the vampire’s fangs were as dangerously sharp
as she had warned, and Willow did not want to nick Kitten and taste her blood
prematurely. Were she feeling less the demon, she would have allowed herself
to marvel at the extent of Kitten’s acceptance of her life sucking, evil
self in her bed, but now was not the time. She had a throat to bite.
Willow moved her mouth away from Kitten’s tempting lips and nuzzled further
down, searching for that sweet spot. Kitten swallowed nervously, but bared her
throat to her. It made Willow want to growl, deep and possessive; the gesture
aroused her so. Instead, she smothered the response. She wanted her witch relaxed.
“It will hurt, Kitten, but remember to relax,” she whispered. “Relax,
and let me take you.” She allowed the sweet beat of the blonde’s steady
pulse to lure her. Then she sank her teeth in.
Tara felt twin knives cut into her, and then continued cutting, deep into muscle
tissue, an intrusive, searing pain. A firm hand clamped over her mouth as she
reacted with a cry in agony and fear, and she kept crying out, hot tears springing
to her eyes. It hurt--it hurt so bad--
Then she felt Willow suck, the vampire’s slender body shuddering with the
motion. Feeling her blood being drawn forcefully out of her body frightened
her, causing the sounds in Tara’s throat to become more panicked. The body
above her stilled and the hand left her mouth to caress her, soothe her--
Arms wrapped tight around her to hold her close.
Willow had said to relax, Tara tried to remind herself. Relax--
So she tried. She was still crying, making sobbing sounds. But she embraced
the vampire back. She tried.
And Willow, feeling Kitten calm a little, feeling the young woman’s trust
assert itself despite her fear, sucked again upon the delicious, heady succor
of the witch’s veins. Blood of magic, sorrow, soil, mama, saltsongspellstearsfistsflourcottonhooveslovesky
Honey--
Kitten’s body trembled in her grip. Willow sucked a third time, gulping
her last, delirious mouthful. She pulled her fangs out.
The wounds were deep and wept twin streams of blood, which Willow attentively,
vigorously laved. Kitten wept too, still shaken by the experience. If her fangs’
penetration had been shallow, then the experience of being fed upon would have
been more erotic for Kitten, just like in the movies. But then the claiming
mark she wanted to make would not have been successful. It was times like this,
Willow wished she had smaller fangs. The girls always cried. And the boys too,
but she never cared much about their feelings. They’re boys, by golly,
they’re not supposed to get girlie.
“Stay awake, Kitten,” she whispered, when she finally removed the
pressure of her tongue from the wound. “Don’t close your eyes. I don’t
want you to go into shock.” Her hands continued to comfort the young woman.
She wiped the tears away from her face. “It’s okay to cry. I know
it hurts.”
Kitten sobbed again, but her tears were already lessening. She was a strong
Kitty. Willow held her close and laid her cheek next to Kitten’s.
Spellcaster’s blood. So powerful...so rich and unbelievably tasty....it
carried a vampire further than ordinary mortal blood. Willow could last days
on it. And when it was innocence and light magic like the flavor of this....
“If I were a carpenter,” Willow suddenly sang softly, completely off
key, but she never, ever could sing even remotely well, to her memory. “And
you were a ladyyyy...”
She felt Kitten’s brief surprise, then heard her swallow the last of her
tears.
“W-would you marry me anyway,” the blonde witch sang softly back,
her voice so pretty to Willow’s ears. “And be my baby?”
Willow grinned. “If a tinker were my trade,” she sang gamely, getting
up to watch Kitten’s face. “Would you still find me?”
“Carryin’ the pots I made,” the blonde witch smiled back, easily
carrying the melody. “Followin’ behind me?”
Willow laughed then, and Kitten responded, though she hiccuped from her crying
jag. The vampire was glad that Kitten was feeling better. She snuggled up to
her warm human once more.
“Whose song is that?” Willow asked.
“Johnny Cash,” Tara replied. She felt all woozy and weak from the
bloodsucking as well as her own upset and crying. She hadn’t the strength
to ask how Willow knew that song, but she pretty much suspected. The vampire
must have experienced it while ingesting her blood.
“Mm,” Willow hummed, snuggling deeper into her Kitten. “You and
your mama sing purty.”
* * *