Returning from Sparrow's, NSFW
Continued from here...
Back at the house, and the journey could not have taken longer. Tara stretches on the way, deliberately tightening the skin of her lower back, wanting to stop the puncture wounds from healing, wanting to keep the blood flowing until, behind closed doors, Shane can taste her, take her inside and finish the spell. Blood magic, the most ancient, the most powerful, and this feels so right. As soon as the front door closes she strips off her shirt, knowing that Shane will be doing the same, aching to touch, taste, caress, to fulfil the promise not only of the spell but of the desire that was spawned before needle was ever set to flesh.
Shane drops her keys onto the small table sitting to one side of the front door and, seeing Tara's movements out of the corner of her eye, inhales a deep, shaky breath. Her mouth is almost watering, stomach tied up in knots tight with anticipation, hands shaking as she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt. "We'll need to wash them first, baby," she murmurs as soon as her t-shirt is off. She knows that Jacki covered each of their tattoos with a thin covering of the same vaseline-like substance that she'd been using during the tattooing process itself to keep the skin moisturized and she has a sneaking suspicion that it probably wouldn't taste very good.
Tara nods, forbidding herself the pleasure of looking at Shane - knowing that if she does she'll need to touch, and if she touches she'll need to taste - and instead heading for the downstairs bathroom. She wets a washcloth, splashing some cold water on her face while she's there, and returns to Shane with it, hoping this is sufficient and they don't need to shower fully. The longer they wait, the more likely the bleeding is to stop.
Taking the washcloth, Shane leans in and covers Tara's mouth with hers for a moment in a sweet, lingering kiss that has an underlying promise of hunger, just waiting to break the surface. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, she reaches down with her free hand and gently grasps Tara's hip, turning her around so that her back is facing her and slowly kneels behind her wife. With careful touches, she gingerly removes the plastic and tape bandages and she can see the sheen of the petroleum jelly on Tara's skin, mixed with a few thin smears of blood. Peeling away the tape securing the bottom half of the bandage, she balls it up and sets it aside, bringing up the wet cloth to tenderly clean her wife's fresh tattoo.
Jacki had shaved the skin first, so there's no tiny hairs for the tape to catch on, lifting away easily. The cloth is cool, the warm water having chilled in the brief journey from bathroom to living room, and the skin is so sensitive that it's hard for her not to jump. It's a sensation unlike anything she'd experienced before, but the closest approximation she can give is when Shane touches her clit after she's already come twice, and her nerves are so attuned that the softest touch feels like sandpaper, and even then she doesn't want it to stop. She drops her chin to her chest, hair falling forward over her face, and lets out a soft moan.
Shane hears the moan but knows that if Tara were in pain, she would say something, so she continues carefully wiping away all traces of the moisturizer from the spot, tiny spots and smears of blood showing up on the cloth. Before long, the chemically-induced sheen is gone, leaving nothing but her wife's clean, reddened skin and the mark - her mark - behind. "So beautiful," she whispers, leaning forward and deliberately licking her lips before pressing them to the mark.
Sudden warmth after the cool of the cloth, and Tara's hand gropes behind her to rest on Shane's shoulder, a tenuous touch but one that nevertheless speaks of desire and welcome. "Yours," she whispers, her skin tingling under Shane's lips. Is she still bleeding? Were they fast enough? She can't tell, she's blinded by the position of the tattoo, but she can - and does - trust in Shane.
Still clutching the wet cloth in her hand, Shane slips her arm around Tara's waist, drawing her back a bit closer as she parts her lips and allows her tongue to sneak out and run along the raised and reddened edges of the tattoo. Tasting the faintest hint of copper, she lets out a shuddering breath and repeats the movement, dragging the flat of her tongue over Tara's tattoo again. "Mine," she purrs in agreement.
"Oh, gods..." Tara whimpers, her hand sliding down Shane's shoulder and along that arm, rocking backwards ever so slightly against Shane's tongue. She's so sensitive, and it feels so good... hot and wet and rough, picking up every tiny bump on Shane's tongue, and if she is still bleeding it's inside Shane now. Blood is life, carrying the energy and essence of vitality itself, and her world narrows to that caress, tiny droplets of her life - seconds or minutes made ruby red and liquid - lapped up by Shane's tongue, shared by them both.
"Mine..." Shane whispers, lips brushing against the newly colored skin. Another long, slow lick of her tongue and there's another hint of that taste and it's almost enough, but at the same time, it's nowhere near and she lets out a soft, tense breath. "My wife... my heart..."
Tara hears the tension in that sound, her hand gently squeezing Shane's. "Yours," she repeats. "What do you need, baby? Anything, I swear it."
Shane draws in a hitching breath, trying to get a hold of herself and rests her forehead against Tara's back above her tattoo and closes her eyes. "I need more, Tara..." she whispers and that hunger and heat is even more evident, now, that it was before... elbowing its way to the forefront rather than remaining a hint, a mere shadow in her voice.
More? More. She bends forward, leaning down to touch her toes, wrapping her hands around her ankles as she holds the stretch for a moment, feeling the skin at the small of her back pull and tighten, a sudden warmth in the absence of Shane's mouth as blood wells to the surface. She straightens again, the movement pushing tiny pinpricks of blood to well out of her skin. "More, Shane," she whispers, and if this isn't enough they'll find another way.
Seeing the tiny, ruby red beads of wetness forming on Tara's skin, both of Shane's hands settle on Tara's hips as she leans forward, fastening her mouth over Tara's tattoo, tongue pulsing gently but insistently against her skin, picking up every last trace and now she's certain that it probably won't ever be enough, but she has to content herself with that. Running her tongue lightly, gratefully over the spot, she draws back, pressing a soft kiss to Tara's tattoo. "Thank you, baby," she whispers, hoping that the tension is no longer evident in her voice.
Head rolling back as Shane's tongue pulses against her, Tara's eyes gaze sightlessly at their ceiling, fluttering closed in pleasure and driven open again with the whispers of pain. It's good pain, though, and her fingers squeeze and massage over the back of Shane's right wrist. "More?" she asks, her voice low and willing, and she's not sure whether she's asking for her sake or for Shane's.
Head settling against Tara's back, Shane rests her cheek against her wife's skin, feeling the warmth of it radiating through her as she closes her eyes once more, hands still gently grasping Tara's hips. "We shouldn't," she whispers hesitantly. "It's... not safe." Not... right...
"Why not?" Tara asks, sucking in a soft breath as Shane's cheek rests against her burning skin. "Yours, Shane. All of me." At Sparrow's, Shane had said... "You wanted to taste me while... while you made me come." Her voice is soft and hushed but the desire in it is unmistakable, tinged with reverence.
"Because --" Shane begins haltingly, her own voice hushed, still rife with tension. "I -- because I won't... I won't wanna stop..."
Tara laughs, warm and low, her fingers still stroking Shane's wrist firmly. "When do you ever? When do we ever? Trust me, Shane. Take me. I'll stop you, if you need to be stopped. I promise."
"That's... that's not what I meant," she whispers, pressing her face into Tara's back.
"What do you mean, baby?" Soft, coaxing, her voice holding no judgement. If Shane doesn't want this, she won't push it... but if Shane does want it, and it sounds like she does, Tara will find a way to make it happen.
"I still want... more of you... in me," Shane murmurs deliberately, tightening her hold on Tara's hips slightly. "Still not enough, but... if I -- if I have as much as I want, I won't wanna stop and that's dangerous..."
"I want to be in you, Shane." Tara replies, and the longing is written all over her face, wound through her voice. "Why is it dangerous?" She wants to understand, because if she can understand, she can take the fear away. Shane wants. That's all she needs to know.
"Because it's me... and it's you... and... I know how I get when it comes to you," she whispers. "Baby, just think about it... just for a second..."
"Shane, I don't know if I can get hurt that way," she whispers back. "But I also know that I want this, and you want this. And that if I tell you to stop, you will. Trust me, baby. Even if you can't trust yourself. I'm yours, Shane."
"Tara..." Shane sighs out, not knowing what else to say. At times, her hunger for her wife still frightens her with its sheer depth and intensity. One kiss, one thousand kisses aren't enough... they could stay in bed for days at a stretch and she would still want more. She is well and truly addicted to this woman and if they make this a part of who they are, a part of their relationship, it's another nuance, another part of her that she'll become addicted to and it's something neither she nor Tara can afford to become addicted to. "Fuck," she grinds out, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut.
"Shhh," Tara murmurs, stepping away and turning, sinking to her knees before Shane, putting them on a level. "Shhh, baby. You don't have to. It's okay." She can't push. All she can do is give Shane permission, and support the choices she makes. Gently she cradles Shane's cheek, her lips finding Shane's as her fingers find that wrist again, gently working the tape free of Shane's bandaging.
Shane turns her wrist as she returns the kiss, capturing Tara's bottom lip and tenderly laving it with her tongue for a moment. "My -- my mom was a junkie, Tara," she whispers, lowering her eyes to watch as her wife removes the bandage from her wrist. "I can't let that take me over... not with you. I couldn't -- I could never forgive myself if I... hurt you..."
"You won't hurt me," Tara promises, picking up the cloth and turning it inside out to find a fold free of the clear jelly. Bandage gently removed and put with her own, she strokes as gently as she can over Shane's wrist, lifting Shane's hand to her mouth and nibbling softly on the tips of her fingers as she works. If Shane's fear is stronger than her desire, it's simply not worth it. No matter how much they both might want it.
Lips thinning from the pain as much as the frustration, Shane ducks her head as Tara carefully cleans the spot. The touches of her wife's lips on her fingertips is ticklish but she does her best to keep still. It seems as though she keeps disappointing Tara and losing ground, herself, more than she gains it and she can't even begin to express her frustrations.
Pulling her mouth away, Tara checks the progress of her cleaning, making sure every last trace of the chemical is removed from Shane's skin. "You take such good care of me," she whispers. "You keep me safe, even from yourself when you think you need to. You're not your mother, Shane, and you won't be. You won't hurt me." Her other hand finds Shane's cheek, cupping it gently and stroking her thumb over Shane's cheekbone. "I love you. Everything you are." She's not sure quite why Shane's felt the need to withdraw, but she can't help but want to follow her, to delve inside and draw Shane back out into the light.
Bottom lip quivering almost imperceptibly, Shane closes her eyes as she leans into that touch and takes a deep breath, trying to forestall the emotion welling up inside her. "I love you, too," she whispers.
Gently, so very gently, her hand lifts Shane's face, her own mouth settling on top of that faint quivering. "So bright," she whispers against Shane's mouth. "So beautiful. No shadows here, Shane. Only the light, baby." Another kiss, a dozen kisses, each soft and undemanding, showering Shane with her unconditional, unequivocable love.
"You're my light..." Shane whispers back between kisses, each one drawing her back out of the shadows, inch by inch, eyes remaining closed as she begins returning each kiss tenderly. "Always, Tara..."
"Always," she whispers, fingers curling and stroking over Shane's face, at Shane's wrist barely two inches up from the red and blackened flesh of the tattoo. Shane's an addictive personality, it's true - and they're both completely addicted to one another. They talked about trying to curb that at the tattoo parlour, and she can only respect Shane for drawing a line at this... especially when it's so obvious that she wants it. Slowly, giving Shane plenty of time to protest, she lifts Shane's wrist towards her mouth, transferring her attentions to it and brushing her lips as softly as she can over the sensitive skin.
Shane's fingers curl into her palm ever so slightly at the touch of Tara's lips against her skin, even the lightest touch against her skin making the spot prickle and ache, a soft, involuntary breath escaping her lungs. She trusts Tara more than she could ever trust herself, can give her this because she knows that Tara is stronger than that, stronger in ways that she's not.
Tenderly, Tara's tongue slips out, caressing over the flesh, flavoured with copper and salt and the very faintest bitter tang that is the fresh ink under the surface of her skin. The initial is small enough for her to close her lips on either side and suckle gently, slowly drawing the blood to the surface, tiny dots welling and disappearing onto her tongue. So simple, this ritual, but Shane is inside her now, and she feels the magic of it coursing down her throat, pooling in her stomach. They're already linked by word, by mind, by heart and by soul. This is the last of the five links, earth completing what air and fire and water and spirit have already begin.
Leaning forward, Shane's cheek brushes against Tara's and, turning her head, she nuzzles her wife's cheek, accepting the touch and the taking and all that it encompasses. She doesn't know if they're supposed to say any words or visualize anything or if what they're doing is enough, but it feels as though it is, so maybe that's all the answer that she needs. "I love you," she whispers.
Purring softly, Tara's tongue laves against her mark for a few more moments before she pulls away. "I love you," she replies, finding Shane's mouth again and sharing the taste of her wife's life blood with her, blood that - since Shane took first - is mixed with hers. Completing the circuit, and she can feel the energy between them, a hunger satiated.
Feeling Tara's tongue sliding along hers, bringing along with it the taste of herself, Shane lets out a relieved groan as the gnawing inside her finally abates. She slips her free arm around the back of Tara's neck, pulling her in closer as she returns the kiss, suckling lightly on her wife's tongue, seeking out every last trace of that taste.
She feels foolish for not realising that until the ritual was completed Shane would want more - something she should have known, should have realised. Her hand slips from Shane's face, sliding down the length of her body to stroke the other half of the violin - their violin, as her other hand sets to work unfastening Shane's pants, to bare the triple goddess tattoo and worship it with the same affection.
Fingers tangling in Tara's hair, Shane straightens up on her knees as she feels Tara's hand tugging at the button of her jeans. Reaching her right hand down, she unzips them, and she knows that she's shaking but it's from a hunger of an entirely different sort and at least the wanting is gone, now, and it's such a blessed relief.
Tugging the jeans down on Shane's right so that there's no risk of the fabric rubbing against tender flesh, Tara's fingers gently peel away the bandage. The cloth is somewhere over there to her left, and her hand gropes for it, not wanting to lift her face from Shane's enough to look and see where it is.
Shane hums softly into the kiss, eyes still closed as her tongue curls and thrusts wetly against Tara's. She can feel her knee resting against something and she realizes that it must be the cloth that Tara is feeling about for, because the water is soaking into the knee of her jeans. Her lips never parting from Tara's, she bends down and grabs up the washcloth, pressing it into Tara's hand blindly.
She feels the moisture against her hand, and her kiss conveys her gratitude, stroking Shane's tongue with hers. The last taste of Shane's blood is gone, now, but she transfers the washcloth into her other hand, carefully wiping away the jelly on Shane's hip. She has to look, now, to watch what she's doing, and there's a heartfelt moan of protest as she pulls her mouth away, free hand plucking and twisting at Shane's nipple as she tips her head, looking for the shining light that indicates the sheen of residue.
A soft answering sound escapes Shane's throat as their lips part and she ducks her head, tipping it to one side and leaning in, nibbling lightly at Tara's throat. She sucks in a sharp, shallow breath, the fine hairs along her skin begin to prickle, nipples hardening almost painfully quick at the touch of Tara's fingers. The yearning to taste her wife again on her tongue is still there, but it doesn't feel quite so overwhelming, now, thankfully.
Tara arches her neck into Shane's touch, soothing away every trace of the jelly. Her hand explores that tight bud as fully as she can, stroking over it with the palm of her hand, turning her wrist and repeating the motion with the back, flicking it with finger tips and catching it in between the bases of her fingers as her hand clenches and kneads Shane's breast. Once she's certain Shane's skin is clean she turns her head, catching Shane's lips into another kiss, her tongue diving into Shane's mouth instantly, hungrily.
Sliding her fingers into Tara's hair, Shane suckles hard on her wife's tongue, moaning softly into the kiss, appreciating every touch and inviting still more of them. At the same time, though, she can't help but finally notice the nagging ache in her knees from kneeling on the floor this whole time. Gently tugging at Tara's hair, she draws back, breaking the kiss, though her lips remain hovering just a hairsbreadth away from her wife's. "Need to get up off the floor," she whispers.
"Yes," Tara replies. Dropping the washcloth haphazardly onto the floor she begins to stand, finding Shane's hand and pulling her up too. "Couch," she murmurs, eyes flickering down to the triple goddess on Shane's hip. Bedrooms are too far away, but... "no, wait. The den. The magic room." That's the place for this.
"Okay," Shane replies, nodding. Anywhere, wherever - she'll go wherever Tara leads her, though the words register in her head and she subconsciously latches onto the rightness of it, that they should do this, complete this spell, in a proper circle.
Fingers laced gently with Shane's, Tara leads her to the den, eyes scanning briefly for a curious kitty before she opens the door and draws her wife inside. The ground is soft and spongy, and she leads Shane towards the centre of the room. She's taken to keeping a circle up in here - specifically as an extra layer of shielding for the angel and demon feathers, in the absence of a lead-lined box. The sort of attention they might attract is not the kind she wants in her home. It's a simple matter, then, to cut a doorway in the circle, just a wave of her hand, and to lead Shane inside, sealing it behind them.
As Tara is opening one door, Shane is closing the other behind them, keeping an eye out for Dexter. Once the door is closed and she's pulled into the circle, she tightens her hold on Tara's hand and nestles up against her back, her free hand coming to rest on Tara's hip as she nuzzles her wife's hair. She can feel the energy, the protection, enveloping them as the circle is closed and her heart skips a beat. Now they can finish...
Tara begins to move her hips, swaying against Shane in the dance begun hours ago at Sparrow's, her humming sharing the music in her head with her wife. Her hands reach up above her head, sliding over her hair and back to wrap around Shane's neck, fingers toying with the tips of her hair.
Giving Tara's hand one last squeeze, Shane releases it, placing her other hand on Tara's hips and pulling her back against her, breasts crushed against her wife's bare back as she moves. Shane's usually not much for dancing, at least not like this, but she can keep a beat when she wants to... it's just that... right now, she wants more than the beat...
Letting out a low moan, Tara grinds back against Shane, lost for a moment in that closeness. Then she whispers, "pants, baby. Want them off." She doesn't want to pull away, doesn't want to lose that contact with Shane, even knowing Shane can't fulfil her request without some distance.
Shane reluctantly releases Tara's hips and reaches out, clasping each of her wife's hands at the wrist and drawing them back behind her to place them on her own hips. "So do it," she whispers, lips nestled close to Tara's ear.
Tara's eyes shudder closed as Shane's breath gusts warm against her ear. She doesn't need to be able to see for this, though, her fingers working through deft motions behind her. Pants already unfastened, she presses slightly against the fabric and pulls down, dragging it with her, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of Shane's briefs to drag them along too. That done she turns, finally breaking contact to kneel at Shane's feet and remove her shoes, tugging the pants off the rest of the way. She nuzzles Shane's left hip, no longer the mirror of the right, clear and unmarked, as she works.
Ducking her head, Shane's lips shape into a warm, tender smile as she reaches down and combs her long fingers through her wife's hair, gently petting and stroking. She feels so treasured, worshiped, when Tara touches her this way and she's still not entirely sure what it is they need to do in order to complete this spell, but she has a feeling they'll find their way just fine as they help each other through. "Do you like it, baby?" She asks softly.
Tara sits back on her heels, examining the tattoo first with eyes, and then with the very tip of her tongue, tracing the stark black lines, tasting the copper of Shane's blood with a thrill. "I love it," she murmurs. "You're mine. Maiden, Mother, Crone, all you are and have been and might ever be. Whole and complete and beautiful and loved and mine."
"Yours," Shane replies, her voice hushed and reverent as her hand strays down and she brushes the backs of her fingers over Tara's cheek and then back up, fingertips smoothing lightly over her eyebrow. "You're in me..."
"Are you ready?" she whispers, tongue flickering over marked flesh again, her eyes rising to meet Shane's even as she sighs softly under the tender touch.
Shane's not entirely sure what it is Tara's asking her if she's ready for, but whatever it is, she will be. Gazing steadily into Tara's eyes, her hand strays up again, fingers sliding through her hair as she nods very slowly.
"I love you," Tara whispers, and her mouth lowers over Shane's tattoo, suckling hard, drawing the blood to the surface and out tiny pinpricks that are already closing over. Her hands rest on Shane's hips, bracing and stabilising her, recognising that the pressure is probably painful over sensitive, recently abused skin.
Breath catching in her throat, Shane's head falls back, mouth dropping open as her hand slides to the back of Tara's head, gripping her hair gently but firmly. The pain of this is nothing compared to actually having the tattoo itself done... it's bearable and, actually, the feeling of Tara's mouth, hot and wet and suckling at the skin, at such an already sensitive place, sends a thrill of heat through her, nipples hardening into tight, tiny peaks.
Fingers gently kneading Shane's hips, Tara takes the pressure at the back of her head as a signal not to stop. She's careful not to swallow, gathering the precious fluid into her mouth drop by drop, until her mouth is filled with it. Then, pulling away gently, she bites the inside of her cheek, a tiny whimper at the sharp, deliberately inflicted pain, as a small quantity of her blood flows into her own mouth, mixing with Shane's. Rising gracefully to her feet, she slides one hand around the back of Shane's neck and gently pulls her into a kiss, waiting until their lips have formed a seal before she lets her tongue slip into her wife's mouth, carrying their mixed blood.
Shane's brows furrow slightly as she hears Tara's whimper and starts to ask her what's wrong, but seeing her wife rise so smoothly helps to reassure her. Leaning in to Tara, she lets out a soft groan of surprise as Tara's tongue curls with hers, bringing with it their blood, their shared pain and sorrows and joys and love. Shane slips her right arm around her wife's waist, pulling her in close and tight against her as her left hand cups her cheek and she takes her - takes them both - inside herself.
Tara's left hand raises to cup Shane's cheek, a perfect mirror, and her tongue dances with Shane's as the blood slowly trickles down her throat. It's hot and wet and there's a burn to it like liquor that radiates through her chest, licking down into her stomach, a slow wave of sensation that makes her aware of every part of her body, culminating at the small of her back where her own tattoo rests. Blood magic, drawn from both of them, completing the last of five links. It feels like the last tumbler clicking into place on a combination lock, a faint popping sensation as something inside her is undone and begins to flow into Shane, following the blood they've shared.
Feeling a similar sensation, herself, Shane's brows furrow slightly even as she returns the kiss, letting their mixed blood slide down her throat. She reluctantly breaks the kiss, their lips making tiny, wet sounds as they part and she meets Tara's eyes, her own stormy and filled with questions. She can see a faint pink stain on her wife's lips, glistening along with the saliva from their kisses and it sets something on fire deep in the pit of her stomach.
"Mind," Tara whispers, her fingers rising to Shane's seventh chakra, just above and between her eyes. "We've been inside one another, shared that link. Heart." Her finger drifts to Shane's chest. "The love between us. Soul, the geis that binds me to you. Word," her hand drifts, up, to the ring on Shane's finger, cradling her cheek, rather than to Shane's mouth. "The vows we made one another. And now, body. The last of the five." Her fingers slide down, grazing over Shane's hardened nipples to come to a gentle rest over the new tattoo. "My blood and your blood, shed willingly, shared willingly. Earth, air, fire, water, spirit."
As Tara's hands touch, she remains perfectly still, though all of the muscles throughout her body tense ever so slightly as her wife's fingers graze her breasts and she rolls her shoulders back, squaring them and baring and offering herself up for more touches. "I'm yours," she whispers. "And you're mine."
"Yes," Tara whispers, covering Shane's mouth with her own again, settling her body back against Shane's so that Shane's breasts sit atop hers, by vaunt of her taller height, slipping her hips into the cradle of Shane's own. Her hands trail up their sides, thumbs on her own body, fingers on Shane's, over the outer swell of her own breasts to come to a stop on Shane's nipples. She flicks downward with each thumb, pressing both against the soft flesh of her own breasts as her tongue curls and rasps against her wife's, the faint flavour of copper still in her mouth.
Letting out a soft whimper, Shane reaches up, fingers threading into Tara's hair as she presses more closely, their two bodies fitting snugly against one another's. Having shared a mouthful of their blood with Tara, the edge of her need has been dulled considerably - the spell finally completed - and she's grateful for that. Carefully drawing Tara's tongue into her mouth, she suckles on it slowly as she allows her hands to wander, sliding down over Tara's shoulders and stroking deliberately over her back in tandem, blindly appreciating the soft skin and contrast of the muscles beneath.
Purring softly, Tara's eyes flutter closed, treasuring the smooth, tender touch as her fingers play with Shane's nipples. This - just feeling Shane, every inch of her, pressing along her flesh... this means more to her than she knows how to express. She worries, sometimes, that she's too physically needy, that Shane's propensity to go along with what she wants means that she comes closer to pushing Shane into something she does not want every day. With any luck this spell will sate that hunger some, allow her to keep her hands off of her wife for at least ten minutes at a time. Shane is inside her, now, and that has to mediate her desire at least a little.
Shane's right hand hand remains stroking slow circles between Tara's shoulder blades while the left slides up and runs through her hair, appreciating the silken texture of it as it slides between her fingers. Humming quietly into the kiss, Shane captures Tara's bottom lip between both of her own, nibbling on it gently as she slowly eases herself down onto the floor, drawing Tara down with her.
They settle onto the soft, spongy floor, Tara gently pressing Shane down and swinging a leg over her wife to lie atop her, maintaining that glorious press of flesh to flesh, shoulder to pelvis, never breaking that kiss. Her hands stroke the strong muscles of Shane's arms and shoulders, relaxing into the strength and softness of her wife.
Above and below, she's surrounded by softness and Shane can't help but hum happily into the kiss as she stretches both arms along the carpet over her head, body arching in a sinuous, full-length stretch, her lips still locked with Tara's. After a moment, even her lips leave Tara's as they draw back into a bright smile. Completed. Finished. Both of them. Together.
Tara's smiles, and then laughs, balanced atop Shane's body, her supporting knee cradled between Shane's legs. She watches Shane stretch, eyes flickering between the arch of her muscles and the sweetness of that smile, mapping Shane's face and form, creating memories for herself that she will treasure always.
Shane lets out a low groan as she lets her muscles relax, legs tangling with Tara's as she slips her hand up to rest at the nape of her neck, thumb gently stroking over the fine hairs there as she gazes up at her wife, her eyes dark and shining. "I love you," she whispers.
"I love you," she whispers back, the words carried on breath lighter than air, and she knows that's an oxymoron and she doesn't care. A fivefold bond, each choice bringing them closer and closer together, and she loses herself in Shane's dark eyes, her reflection gleaming faintly in their depths. "Shane, I... baby, I have a song for you. It's... it's not finished, it's only a snippet, but... but, um... I want you to hear it."
"A... a song? For me?" Shane asks, both eyebrows arching, a look of surprise on her face as she looks up at Tara. "You... you wrote a song for me?"
"I... yeah. It's not... it's not done. I've never, um... I've never written a song before. But... yeah. I did. Or, I am." She bites her lip, fingers tangling in Shane's dark hair, an unconscious gesture of comfort.
Shaking her head slowly, Shane lets her hand slide down along Tara's shoulder and along her arm, gently smoothing back and forth. 'I -- I ... thank you," she whispers, impossibly touched and honored by her wife's gift. Which is exactly what it is. To take the time to string words and phrases together into lyrics and sew a melody to them... and to do this for her... it means more to her than she can ever begin to say.
Dropping a gentle kiss onto Shane's lips, Tara sits up. Nestling herself between Shane's legs, facing her wife, she lets her hand rest over her mark, palm cupped so that she puts no actual pressure on the sensitive flesh, takes a deep breath, and sings. The song is slow, measured, clearly unfinished, but her eyes shine as she watches her wife. "In the depths of silence I can hear more words than speech can say - your motions give your heart and soul and hopes away. In the curl of smoke, in the ocean spray, in the tangled sheets you find your way."
The sweetness of Tara's voice never fails to lure and lull and warm her and, as her wife sings, Shane draws her eyes away from Tara's face for a moment to look down along the length of her body. She can feel the warmth of Tara's hand, though it's not touching her skin, and she has to change that. The pain is nothing compared to even this slight bit of distance. Reaching down, she places her hand over Tara's, gently drawing it down and placing it over the tattoo, pressing it there, where it belongs - just the same as that mark. As the last notes are sung, she draws in a sharp, shallow breath and looks up at Tara, eyes shining fiercely bright. "So beautiful, baby... thank you," she whispers.
It's not finished - she's sharply, keenly aware of that, not even a quarter done, but Shane's reaction warms her. Slowly she settles herself back down over Shane's body, leaving her hand over the tattoo, over her mark as she lowers her mouth to Shane's. "I love you," she whispers, feathering a soft kiss onto Shane's top lip, then her bottom, before letting her lips part and cover Shane's.
"I love you... so much," Shane whispers back between each of those delicate kisses, tipping her chin up just slightly to meet Tara as their lips touch. Her left hand cards through Tara's hair tenderly as she captures Tara's bottom lip, laving it, tracing it lightly for a moment with her tongue before turning attention to her upper lip, delicately tracing the bow with the tip of her tongue. With a soft purr, she parts her lips and touches them to Tara's again, tongue slipping out to brush against the lush swell of her bottom lip again. She is loved and never has she known it, felt it, been so sure of it than in this moment.
Continues here...
Back at the house, and the journey could not have taken longer. Tara stretches on the way, deliberately tightening the skin of her lower back, wanting to stop the puncture wounds from healing, wanting to keep the blood flowing until, behind closed doors, Shane can taste her, take her inside and finish the spell. Blood magic, the most ancient, the most powerful, and this feels so right. As soon as the front door closes she strips off her shirt, knowing that Shane will be doing the same, aching to touch, taste, caress, to fulfil the promise not only of the spell but of the desire that was spawned before needle was ever set to flesh.
Shane drops her keys onto the small table sitting to one side of the front door and, seeing Tara's movements out of the corner of her eye, inhales a deep, shaky breath. Her mouth is almost watering, stomach tied up in knots tight with anticipation, hands shaking as she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt. "We'll need to wash them first, baby," she murmurs as soon as her t-shirt is off. She knows that Jacki covered each of their tattoos with a thin covering of the same vaseline-like substance that she'd been using during the tattooing process itself to keep the skin moisturized and she has a sneaking suspicion that it probably wouldn't taste very good.
Tara nods, forbidding herself the pleasure of looking at Shane - knowing that if she does she'll need to touch, and if she touches she'll need to taste - and instead heading for the downstairs bathroom. She wets a washcloth, splashing some cold water on her face while she's there, and returns to Shane with it, hoping this is sufficient and they don't need to shower fully. The longer they wait, the more likely the bleeding is to stop.
Taking the washcloth, Shane leans in and covers Tara's mouth with hers for a moment in a sweet, lingering kiss that has an underlying promise of hunger, just waiting to break the surface. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, she reaches down with her free hand and gently grasps Tara's hip, turning her around so that her back is facing her and slowly kneels behind her wife. With careful touches, she gingerly removes the plastic and tape bandages and she can see the sheen of the petroleum jelly on Tara's skin, mixed with a few thin smears of blood. Peeling away the tape securing the bottom half of the bandage, she balls it up and sets it aside, bringing up the wet cloth to tenderly clean her wife's fresh tattoo.
Jacki had shaved the skin first, so there's no tiny hairs for the tape to catch on, lifting away easily. The cloth is cool, the warm water having chilled in the brief journey from bathroom to living room, and the skin is so sensitive that it's hard for her not to jump. It's a sensation unlike anything she'd experienced before, but the closest approximation she can give is when Shane touches her clit after she's already come twice, and her nerves are so attuned that the softest touch feels like sandpaper, and even then she doesn't want it to stop. She drops her chin to her chest, hair falling forward over her face, and lets out a soft moan.
Shane hears the moan but knows that if Tara were in pain, she would say something, so she continues carefully wiping away all traces of the moisturizer from the spot, tiny spots and smears of blood showing up on the cloth. Before long, the chemically-induced sheen is gone, leaving nothing but her wife's clean, reddened skin and the mark - her mark - behind. "So beautiful," she whispers, leaning forward and deliberately licking her lips before pressing them to the mark.
Sudden warmth after the cool of the cloth, and Tara's hand gropes behind her to rest on Shane's shoulder, a tenuous touch but one that nevertheless speaks of desire and welcome. "Yours," she whispers, her skin tingling under Shane's lips. Is she still bleeding? Were they fast enough? She can't tell, she's blinded by the position of the tattoo, but she can - and does - trust in Shane.
Still clutching the wet cloth in her hand, Shane slips her arm around Tara's waist, drawing her back a bit closer as she parts her lips and allows her tongue to sneak out and run along the raised and reddened edges of the tattoo. Tasting the faintest hint of copper, she lets out a shuddering breath and repeats the movement, dragging the flat of her tongue over Tara's tattoo again. "Mine," she purrs in agreement.
"Oh, gods..." Tara whimpers, her hand sliding down Shane's shoulder and along that arm, rocking backwards ever so slightly against Shane's tongue. She's so sensitive, and it feels so good... hot and wet and rough, picking up every tiny bump on Shane's tongue, and if she is still bleeding it's inside Shane now. Blood is life, carrying the energy and essence of vitality itself, and her world narrows to that caress, tiny droplets of her life - seconds or minutes made ruby red and liquid - lapped up by Shane's tongue, shared by them both.
"Mine..." Shane whispers, lips brushing against the newly colored skin. Another long, slow lick of her tongue and there's another hint of that taste and it's almost enough, but at the same time, it's nowhere near and she lets out a soft, tense breath. "My wife... my heart..."
Tara hears the tension in that sound, her hand gently squeezing Shane's. "Yours," she repeats. "What do you need, baby? Anything, I swear it."
Shane draws in a hitching breath, trying to get a hold of herself and rests her forehead against Tara's back above her tattoo and closes her eyes. "I need more, Tara..." she whispers and that hunger and heat is even more evident, now, that it was before... elbowing its way to the forefront rather than remaining a hint, a mere shadow in her voice.
More? More. She bends forward, leaning down to touch her toes, wrapping her hands around her ankles as she holds the stretch for a moment, feeling the skin at the small of her back pull and tighten, a sudden warmth in the absence of Shane's mouth as blood wells to the surface. She straightens again, the movement pushing tiny pinpricks of blood to well out of her skin. "More, Shane," she whispers, and if this isn't enough they'll find another way.
Seeing the tiny, ruby red beads of wetness forming on Tara's skin, both of Shane's hands settle on Tara's hips as she leans forward, fastening her mouth over Tara's tattoo, tongue pulsing gently but insistently against her skin, picking up every last trace and now she's certain that it probably won't ever be enough, but she has to content herself with that. Running her tongue lightly, gratefully over the spot, she draws back, pressing a soft kiss to Tara's tattoo. "Thank you, baby," she whispers, hoping that the tension is no longer evident in her voice.
Head rolling back as Shane's tongue pulses against her, Tara's eyes gaze sightlessly at their ceiling, fluttering closed in pleasure and driven open again with the whispers of pain. It's good pain, though, and her fingers squeeze and massage over the back of Shane's right wrist. "More?" she asks, her voice low and willing, and she's not sure whether she's asking for her sake or for Shane's.
Head settling against Tara's back, Shane rests her cheek against her wife's skin, feeling the warmth of it radiating through her as she closes her eyes once more, hands still gently grasping Tara's hips. "We shouldn't," she whispers hesitantly. "It's... not safe." Not... right...
"Why not?" Tara asks, sucking in a soft breath as Shane's cheek rests against her burning skin. "Yours, Shane. All of me." At Sparrow's, Shane had said... "You wanted to taste me while... while you made me come." Her voice is soft and hushed but the desire in it is unmistakable, tinged with reverence.
"Because --" Shane begins haltingly, her own voice hushed, still rife with tension. "I -- because I won't... I won't wanna stop..."
Tara laughs, warm and low, her fingers still stroking Shane's wrist firmly. "When do you ever? When do we ever? Trust me, Shane. Take me. I'll stop you, if you need to be stopped. I promise."
"That's... that's not what I meant," she whispers, pressing her face into Tara's back.
"What do you mean, baby?" Soft, coaxing, her voice holding no judgement. If Shane doesn't want this, she won't push it... but if Shane does want it, and it sounds like she does, Tara will find a way to make it happen.
"I still want... more of you... in me," Shane murmurs deliberately, tightening her hold on Tara's hips slightly. "Still not enough, but... if I -- if I have as much as I want, I won't wanna stop and that's dangerous..."
"I want to be in you, Shane." Tara replies, and the longing is written all over her face, wound through her voice. "Why is it dangerous?" She wants to understand, because if she can understand, she can take the fear away. Shane wants. That's all she needs to know.
"Because it's me... and it's you... and... I know how I get when it comes to you," she whispers. "Baby, just think about it... just for a second..."
"Shane, I don't know if I can get hurt that way," she whispers back. "But I also know that I want this, and you want this. And that if I tell you to stop, you will. Trust me, baby. Even if you can't trust yourself. I'm yours, Shane."
"Tara..." Shane sighs out, not knowing what else to say. At times, her hunger for her wife still frightens her with its sheer depth and intensity. One kiss, one thousand kisses aren't enough... they could stay in bed for days at a stretch and she would still want more. She is well and truly addicted to this woman and if they make this a part of who they are, a part of their relationship, it's another nuance, another part of her that she'll become addicted to and it's something neither she nor Tara can afford to become addicted to. "Fuck," she grinds out, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut.
"Shhh," Tara murmurs, stepping away and turning, sinking to her knees before Shane, putting them on a level. "Shhh, baby. You don't have to. It's okay." She can't push. All she can do is give Shane permission, and support the choices she makes. Gently she cradles Shane's cheek, her lips finding Shane's as her fingers find that wrist again, gently working the tape free of Shane's bandaging.
Shane turns her wrist as she returns the kiss, capturing Tara's bottom lip and tenderly laving it with her tongue for a moment. "My -- my mom was a junkie, Tara," she whispers, lowering her eyes to watch as her wife removes the bandage from her wrist. "I can't let that take me over... not with you. I couldn't -- I could never forgive myself if I... hurt you..."
"You won't hurt me," Tara promises, picking up the cloth and turning it inside out to find a fold free of the clear jelly. Bandage gently removed and put with her own, she strokes as gently as she can over Shane's wrist, lifting Shane's hand to her mouth and nibbling softly on the tips of her fingers as she works. If Shane's fear is stronger than her desire, it's simply not worth it. No matter how much they both might want it.
Lips thinning from the pain as much as the frustration, Shane ducks her head as Tara carefully cleans the spot. The touches of her wife's lips on her fingertips is ticklish but she does her best to keep still. It seems as though she keeps disappointing Tara and losing ground, herself, more than she gains it and she can't even begin to express her frustrations.
Pulling her mouth away, Tara checks the progress of her cleaning, making sure every last trace of the chemical is removed from Shane's skin. "You take such good care of me," she whispers. "You keep me safe, even from yourself when you think you need to. You're not your mother, Shane, and you won't be. You won't hurt me." Her other hand finds Shane's cheek, cupping it gently and stroking her thumb over Shane's cheekbone. "I love you. Everything you are." She's not sure quite why Shane's felt the need to withdraw, but she can't help but want to follow her, to delve inside and draw Shane back out into the light.
Bottom lip quivering almost imperceptibly, Shane closes her eyes as she leans into that touch and takes a deep breath, trying to forestall the emotion welling up inside her. "I love you, too," she whispers.
Gently, so very gently, her hand lifts Shane's face, her own mouth settling on top of that faint quivering. "So bright," she whispers against Shane's mouth. "So beautiful. No shadows here, Shane. Only the light, baby." Another kiss, a dozen kisses, each soft and undemanding, showering Shane with her unconditional, unequivocable love.
"You're my light..." Shane whispers back between kisses, each one drawing her back out of the shadows, inch by inch, eyes remaining closed as she begins returning each kiss tenderly. "Always, Tara..."
"Always," she whispers, fingers curling and stroking over Shane's face, at Shane's wrist barely two inches up from the red and blackened flesh of the tattoo. Shane's an addictive personality, it's true - and they're both completely addicted to one another. They talked about trying to curb that at the tattoo parlour, and she can only respect Shane for drawing a line at this... especially when it's so obvious that she wants it. Slowly, giving Shane plenty of time to protest, she lifts Shane's wrist towards her mouth, transferring her attentions to it and brushing her lips as softly as she can over the sensitive skin.
Shane's fingers curl into her palm ever so slightly at the touch of Tara's lips against her skin, even the lightest touch against her skin making the spot prickle and ache, a soft, involuntary breath escaping her lungs. She trusts Tara more than she could ever trust herself, can give her this because she knows that Tara is stronger than that, stronger in ways that she's not.
Tenderly, Tara's tongue slips out, caressing over the flesh, flavoured with copper and salt and the very faintest bitter tang that is the fresh ink under the surface of her skin. The initial is small enough for her to close her lips on either side and suckle gently, slowly drawing the blood to the surface, tiny dots welling and disappearing onto her tongue. So simple, this ritual, but Shane is inside her now, and she feels the magic of it coursing down her throat, pooling in her stomach. They're already linked by word, by mind, by heart and by soul. This is the last of the five links, earth completing what air and fire and water and spirit have already begin.
Leaning forward, Shane's cheek brushes against Tara's and, turning her head, she nuzzles her wife's cheek, accepting the touch and the taking and all that it encompasses. She doesn't know if they're supposed to say any words or visualize anything or if what they're doing is enough, but it feels as though it is, so maybe that's all the answer that she needs. "I love you," she whispers.
Purring softly, Tara's tongue laves against her mark for a few more moments before she pulls away. "I love you," she replies, finding Shane's mouth again and sharing the taste of her wife's life blood with her, blood that - since Shane took first - is mixed with hers. Completing the circuit, and she can feel the energy between them, a hunger satiated.
Feeling Tara's tongue sliding along hers, bringing along with it the taste of herself, Shane lets out a relieved groan as the gnawing inside her finally abates. She slips her free arm around the back of Tara's neck, pulling her in closer as she returns the kiss, suckling lightly on her wife's tongue, seeking out every last trace of that taste.
She feels foolish for not realising that until the ritual was completed Shane would want more - something she should have known, should have realised. Her hand slips from Shane's face, sliding down the length of her body to stroke the other half of the violin - their violin, as her other hand sets to work unfastening Shane's pants, to bare the triple goddess tattoo and worship it with the same affection.
Fingers tangling in Tara's hair, Shane straightens up on her knees as she feels Tara's hand tugging at the button of her jeans. Reaching her right hand down, she unzips them, and she knows that she's shaking but it's from a hunger of an entirely different sort and at least the wanting is gone, now, and it's such a blessed relief.
Tugging the jeans down on Shane's right so that there's no risk of the fabric rubbing against tender flesh, Tara's fingers gently peel away the bandage. The cloth is somewhere over there to her left, and her hand gropes for it, not wanting to lift her face from Shane's enough to look and see where it is.
Shane hums softly into the kiss, eyes still closed as her tongue curls and thrusts wetly against Tara's. She can feel her knee resting against something and she realizes that it must be the cloth that Tara is feeling about for, because the water is soaking into the knee of her jeans. Her lips never parting from Tara's, she bends down and grabs up the washcloth, pressing it into Tara's hand blindly.
She feels the moisture against her hand, and her kiss conveys her gratitude, stroking Shane's tongue with hers. The last taste of Shane's blood is gone, now, but she transfers the washcloth into her other hand, carefully wiping away the jelly on Shane's hip. She has to look, now, to watch what she's doing, and there's a heartfelt moan of protest as she pulls her mouth away, free hand plucking and twisting at Shane's nipple as she tips her head, looking for the shining light that indicates the sheen of residue.
A soft answering sound escapes Shane's throat as their lips part and she ducks her head, tipping it to one side and leaning in, nibbling lightly at Tara's throat. She sucks in a sharp, shallow breath, the fine hairs along her skin begin to prickle, nipples hardening almost painfully quick at the touch of Tara's fingers. The yearning to taste her wife again on her tongue is still there, but it doesn't feel quite so overwhelming, now, thankfully.
Tara arches her neck into Shane's touch, soothing away every trace of the jelly. Her hand explores that tight bud as fully as she can, stroking over it with the palm of her hand, turning her wrist and repeating the motion with the back, flicking it with finger tips and catching it in between the bases of her fingers as her hand clenches and kneads Shane's breast. Once she's certain Shane's skin is clean she turns her head, catching Shane's lips into another kiss, her tongue diving into Shane's mouth instantly, hungrily.
Sliding her fingers into Tara's hair, Shane suckles hard on her wife's tongue, moaning softly into the kiss, appreciating every touch and inviting still more of them. At the same time, though, she can't help but finally notice the nagging ache in her knees from kneeling on the floor this whole time. Gently tugging at Tara's hair, she draws back, breaking the kiss, though her lips remain hovering just a hairsbreadth away from her wife's. "Need to get up off the floor," she whispers.
"Yes," Tara replies. Dropping the washcloth haphazardly onto the floor she begins to stand, finding Shane's hand and pulling her up too. "Couch," she murmurs, eyes flickering down to the triple goddess on Shane's hip. Bedrooms are too far away, but... "no, wait. The den. The magic room." That's the place for this.
"Okay," Shane replies, nodding. Anywhere, wherever - she'll go wherever Tara leads her, though the words register in her head and she subconsciously latches onto the rightness of it, that they should do this, complete this spell, in a proper circle.
Fingers laced gently with Shane's, Tara leads her to the den, eyes scanning briefly for a curious kitty before she opens the door and draws her wife inside. The ground is soft and spongy, and she leads Shane towards the centre of the room. She's taken to keeping a circle up in here - specifically as an extra layer of shielding for the angel and demon feathers, in the absence of a lead-lined box. The sort of attention they might attract is not the kind she wants in her home. It's a simple matter, then, to cut a doorway in the circle, just a wave of her hand, and to lead Shane inside, sealing it behind them.
As Tara is opening one door, Shane is closing the other behind them, keeping an eye out for Dexter. Once the door is closed and she's pulled into the circle, she tightens her hold on Tara's hand and nestles up against her back, her free hand coming to rest on Tara's hip as she nuzzles her wife's hair. She can feel the energy, the protection, enveloping them as the circle is closed and her heart skips a beat. Now they can finish...
Tara begins to move her hips, swaying against Shane in the dance begun hours ago at Sparrow's, her humming sharing the music in her head with her wife. Her hands reach up above her head, sliding over her hair and back to wrap around Shane's neck, fingers toying with the tips of her hair.
Giving Tara's hand one last squeeze, Shane releases it, placing her other hand on Tara's hips and pulling her back against her, breasts crushed against her wife's bare back as she moves. Shane's usually not much for dancing, at least not like this, but she can keep a beat when she wants to... it's just that... right now, she wants more than the beat...
Letting out a low moan, Tara grinds back against Shane, lost for a moment in that closeness. Then she whispers, "pants, baby. Want them off." She doesn't want to pull away, doesn't want to lose that contact with Shane, even knowing Shane can't fulfil her request without some distance.
Shane reluctantly releases Tara's hips and reaches out, clasping each of her wife's hands at the wrist and drawing them back behind her to place them on her own hips. "So do it," she whispers, lips nestled close to Tara's ear.
Tara's eyes shudder closed as Shane's breath gusts warm against her ear. She doesn't need to be able to see for this, though, her fingers working through deft motions behind her. Pants already unfastened, she presses slightly against the fabric and pulls down, dragging it with her, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of Shane's briefs to drag them along too. That done she turns, finally breaking contact to kneel at Shane's feet and remove her shoes, tugging the pants off the rest of the way. She nuzzles Shane's left hip, no longer the mirror of the right, clear and unmarked, as she works.
Ducking her head, Shane's lips shape into a warm, tender smile as she reaches down and combs her long fingers through her wife's hair, gently petting and stroking. She feels so treasured, worshiped, when Tara touches her this way and she's still not entirely sure what it is they need to do in order to complete this spell, but she has a feeling they'll find their way just fine as they help each other through. "Do you like it, baby?" She asks softly.
Tara sits back on her heels, examining the tattoo first with eyes, and then with the very tip of her tongue, tracing the stark black lines, tasting the copper of Shane's blood with a thrill. "I love it," she murmurs. "You're mine. Maiden, Mother, Crone, all you are and have been and might ever be. Whole and complete and beautiful and loved and mine."
"Yours," Shane replies, her voice hushed and reverent as her hand strays down and she brushes the backs of her fingers over Tara's cheek and then back up, fingertips smoothing lightly over her eyebrow. "You're in me..."
"Are you ready?" she whispers, tongue flickering over marked flesh again, her eyes rising to meet Shane's even as she sighs softly under the tender touch.
Shane's not entirely sure what it is Tara's asking her if she's ready for, but whatever it is, she will be. Gazing steadily into Tara's eyes, her hand strays up again, fingers sliding through her hair as she nods very slowly.
"I love you," Tara whispers, and her mouth lowers over Shane's tattoo, suckling hard, drawing the blood to the surface and out tiny pinpricks that are already closing over. Her hands rest on Shane's hips, bracing and stabilising her, recognising that the pressure is probably painful over sensitive, recently abused skin.
Breath catching in her throat, Shane's head falls back, mouth dropping open as her hand slides to the back of Tara's head, gripping her hair gently but firmly. The pain of this is nothing compared to actually having the tattoo itself done... it's bearable and, actually, the feeling of Tara's mouth, hot and wet and suckling at the skin, at such an already sensitive place, sends a thrill of heat through her, nipples hardening into tight, tiny peaks.
Fingers gently kneading Shane's hips, Tara takes the pressure at the back of her head as a signal not to stop. She's careful not to swallow, gathering the precious fluid into her mouth drop by drop, until her mouth is filled with it. Then, pulling away gently, she bites the inside of her cheek, a tiny whimper at the sharp, deliberately inflicted pain, as a small quantity of her blood flows into her own mouth, mixing with Shane's. Rising gracefully to her feet, she slides one hand around the back of Shane's neck and gently pulls her into a kiss, waiting until their lips have formed a seal before she lets her tongue slip into her wife's mouth, carrying their mixed blood.
Shane's brows furrow slightly as she hears Tara's whimper and starts to ask her what's wrong, but seeing her wife rise so smoothly helps to reassure her. Leaning in to Tara, she lets out a soft groan of surprise as Tara's tongue curls with hers, bringing with it their blood, their shared pain and sorrows and joys and love. Shane slips her right arm around her wife's waist, pulling her in close and tight against her as her left hand cups her cheek and she takes her - takes them both - inside herself.
Tara's left hand raises to cup Shane's cheek, a perfect mirror, and her tongue dances with Shane's as the blood slowly trickles down her throat. It's hot and wet and there's a burn to it like liquor that radiates through her chest, licking down into her stomach, a slow wave of sensation that makes her aware of every part of her body, culminating at the small of her back where her own tattoo rests. Blood magic, drawn from both of them, completing the last of five links. It feels like the last tumbler clicking into place on a combination lock, a faint popping sensation as something inside her is undone and begins to flow into Shane, following the blood they've shared.
Feeling a similar sensation, herself, Shane's brows furrow slightly even as she returns the kiss, letting their mixed blood slide down her throat. She reluctantly breaks the kiss, their lips making tiny, wet sounds as they part and she meets Tara's eyes, her own stormy and filled with questions. She can see a faint pink stain on her wife's lips, glistening along with the saliva from their kisses and it sets something on fire deep in the pit of her stomach.
"Mind," Tara whispers, her fingers rising to Shane's seventh chakra, just above and between her eyes. "We've been inside one another, shared that link. Heart." Her finger drifts to Shane's chest. "The love between us. Soul, the geis that binds me to you. Word," her hand drifts, up, to the ring on Shane's finger, cradling her cheek, rather than to Shane's mouth. "The vows we made one another. And now, body. The last of the five." Her fingers slide down, grazing over Shane's hardened nipples to come to a gentle rest over the new tattoo. "My blood and your blood, shed willingly, shared willingly. Earth, air, fire, water, spirit."
As Tara's hands touch, she remains perfectly still, though all of the muscles throughout her body tense ever so slightly as her wife's fingers graze her breasts and she rolls her shoulders back, squaring them and baring and offering herself up for more touches. "I'm yours," she whispers. "And you're mine."
"Yes," Tara whispers, covering Shane's mouth with her own again, settling her body back against Shane's so that Shane's breasts sit atop hers, by vaunt of her taller height, slipping her hips into the cradle of Shane's own. Her hands trail up their sides, thumbs on her own body, fingers on Shane's, over the outer swell of her own breasts to come to a stop on Shane's nipples. She flicks downward with each thumb, pressing both against the soft flesh of her own breasts as her tongue curls and rasps against her wife's, the faint flavour of copper still in her mouth.
Letting out a soft whimper, Shane reaches up, fingers threading into Tara's hair as she presses more closely, their two bodies fitting snugly against one another's. Having shared a mouthful of their blood with Tara, the edge of her need has been dulled considerably - the spell finally completed - and she's grateful for that. Carefully drawing Tara's tongue into her mouth, she suckles on it slowly as she allows her hands to wander, sliding down over Tara's shoulders and stroking deliberately over her back in tandem, blindly appreciating the soft skin and contrast of the muscles beneath.
Purring softly, Tara's eyes flutter closed, treasuring the smooth, tender touch as her fingers play with Shane's nipples. This - just feeling Shane, every inch of her, pressing along her flesh... this means more to her than she knows how to express. She worries, sometimes, that she's too physically needy, that Shane's propensity to go along with what she wants means that she comes closer to pushing Shane into something she does not want every day. With any luck this spell will sate that hunger some, allow her to keep her hands off of her wife for at least ten minutes at a time. Shane is inside her, now, and that has to mediate her desire at least a little.
Shane's right hand hand remains stroking slow circles between Tara's shoulder blades while the left slides up and runs through her hair, appreciating the silken texture of it as it slides between her fingers. Humming quietly into the kiss, Shane captures Tara's bottom lip between both of her own, nibbling on it gently as she slowly eases herself down onto the floor, drawing Tara down with her.
They settle onto the soft, spongy floor, Tara gently pressing Shane down and swinging a leg over her wife to lie atop her, maintaining that glorious press of flesh to flesh, shoulder to pelvis, never breaking that kiss. Her hands stroke the strong muscles of Shane's arms and shoulders, relaxing into the strength and softness of her wife.
Above and below, she's surrounded by softness and Shane can't help but hum happily into the kiss as she stretches both arms along the carpet over her head, body arching in a sinuous, full-length stretch, her lips still locked with Tara's. After a moment, even her lips leave Tara's as they draw back into a bright smile. Completed. Finished. Both of them. Together.
Tara's smiles, and then laughs, balanced atop Shane's body, her supporting knee cradled between Shane's legs. She watches Shane stretch, eyes flickering between the arch of her muscles and the sweetness of that smile, mapping Shane's face and form, creating memories for herself that she will treasure always.
Shane lets out a low groan as she lets her muscles relax, legs tangling with Tara's as she slips her hand up to rest at the nape of her neck, thumb gently stroking over the fine hairs there as she gazes up at her wife, her eyes dark and shining. "I love you," she whispers.
"I love you," she whispers back, the words carried on breath lighter than air, and she knows that's an oxymoron and she doesn't care. A fivefold bond, each choice bringing them closer and closer together, and she loses herself in Shane's dark eyes, her reflection gleaming faintly in their depths. "Shane, I... baby, I have a song for you. It's... it's not finished, it's only a snippet, but... but, um... I want you to hear it."
"A... a song? For me?" Shane asks, both eyebrows arching, a look of surprise on her face as she looks up at Tara. "You... you wrote a song for me?"
"I... yeah. It's not... it's not done. I've never, um... I've never written a song before. But... yeah. I did. Or, I am." She bites her lip, fingers tangling in Shane's dark hair, an unconscious gesture of comfort.
Shaking her head slowly, Shane lets her hand slide down along Tara's shoulder and along her arm, gently smoothing back and forth. 'I -- I ... thank you," she whispers, impossibly touched and honored by her wife's gift. Which is exactly what it is. To take the time to string words and phrases together into lyrics and sew a melody to them... and to do this for her... it means more to her than she can ever begin to say.
Dropping a gentle kiss onto Shane's lips, Tara sits up. Nestling herself between Shane's legs, facing her wife, she lets her hand rest over her mark, palm cupped so that she puts no actual pressure on the sensitive flesh, takes a deep breath, and sings. The song is slow, measured, clearly unfinished, but her eyes shine as she watches her wife. "In the depths of silence I can hear more words than speech can say - your motions give your heart and soul and hopes away. In the curl of smoke, in the ocean spray, in the tangled sheets you find your way."
The sweetness of Tara's voice never fails to lure and lull and warm her and, as her wife sings, Shane draws her eyes away from Tara's face for a moment to look down along the length of her body. She can feel the warmth of Tara's hand, though it's not touching her skin, and she has to change that. The pain is nothing compared to even this slight bit of distance. Reaching down, she places her hand over Tara's, gently drawing it down and placing it over the tattoo, pressing it there, where it belongs - just the same as that mark. As the last notes are sung, she draws in a sharp, shallow breath and looks up at Tara, eyes shining fiercely bright. "So beautiful, baby... thank you," she whispers.
It's not finished - she's sharply, keenly aware of that, not even a quarter done, but Shane's reaction warms her. Slowly she settles herself back down over Shane's body, leaving her hand over the tattoo, over her mark as she lowers her mouth to Shane's. "I love you," she whispers, feathering a soft kiss onto Shane's top lip, then her bottom, before letting her lips part and cover Shane's.
"I love you... so much," Shane whispers back between each of those delicate kisses, tipping her chin up just slightly to meet Tara as their lips touch. Her left hand cards through Tara's hair tenderly as she captures Tara's bottom lip, laving it, tracing it lightly for a moment with her tongue before turning attention to her upper lip, delicately tracing the bow with the tip of her tongue. With a soft purr, she parts her lips and touches them to Tara's again, tongue slipping out to brush against the lush swell of her bottom lip again. She is loved and never has she known it, felt it, been so sure of it than in this moment.
Continues here...