Name: Kresh


Title: Dreaming The Albatross

Disclaimer: All characters implied are owned by Joss Whedon and/or Mutant Enemy productions. No copyright infringement is intended nor is anything implied by my writings.

Rating: R - Adult Situations

Summary: Willow deals with a guilty mind.

Comment: I decided that Mourning Coffee needed a follow-up, from Willow’s point of view. So, consider this part 2, I suppose.

Dreaming The Albatross

By Kresh


I feel her sigh, vibrating along the length of her body, more than I hear it. A soft exhalation of pleasure announcing her satisfaction sounds in my ears and I grin. I raise my head and look up into her eyes, seeing the passion that writhes within, gripping her as she mumbles incoherently. I lower my head to her side again and continue to explore her side, slowly kissing the soft flesh below her ribs.

She slowly runs her hands through my hair, sending the hairs on my nape rising, a reflection of the emotions that stir within me. She closes her hands and grips softly, the handfuls of hair another sign that encourages my wandering lips. I trace my tongue across the flat expanse of her stomach and encircle her navel with my lips. A quick dart from my tongue and she’s moving again, breathing heavily as I tease, enjoying the tension that holds her.

"God Willow," she moans.

I laugh silently as my lips drag a line of burning flame from her navel to the sheer material that covers her. I feel her muscled legs tense as she arches to meet my mouth, even as I dip lower, her scent burning itself into my memory, my tongue running down the smoothness of her silk covered mound.

I look up to meet her eyes as my tongue wanders. So much fear within, so much tension, so much love and lust and a million other things shine from within. I grin as I bask in her gaze, seeing the wonder at my ministrations, the actions that show my affection and my desire to please her. My pulse is racing as she attempts speech, her mouth opening slowly as if it is a great effort just to speak.

Her lips part and a great agonizing screech issues. I can see the shock in her face and I know it mirrors my own. I grip her sides as if to hold her there even as she fades again.

It’s six AM and my alarm is going off.


I rolled over swearing like a sailor. My hand punched the off button and I momentarily considered purchasing a large hammer for occasions such as this. Cartoony but very much a reflection of how I felt at that moment. Another perfectly good dream ruined by modern electronics. The thought vanished even as I sat up and turned to put my feet on the floor.

I briefly stretched and then was on my way to find my slippers and start the morning. A hazy thought percolated through my sleep-fuzzy brain and I realized I was forgetting something. Quick movements found my feet in slippers and I looked around with a yawn to find what my subconscious was yammering about.

She lay there in the bed, looking up with sleep filled eyes and a smile meant for only me. My forced smile suddenly become natural as the happy warmth displaced the guilty chills that were starting to race up my spine.

I walked over to the bed and ran a hand through her hair. She smiled and snuggled against my hand as I caressed her cheek. She looked so happy and comfortable and pleased, all at the same time. I vowed, once again, to figure out how she does it and make her stop, ‘cause I hated the melting feeling it was causing at that moment.

Especially with the albatross I was hauling about.

I sat next to her and lowered my lips to her head. I kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and her nose with true affection. She giggled and squirmed as I ran my lips down her chin. I stopped, took her hand in mine, and focused on the glow inside me.

"Morning, Hon." She said, packing so much emotion and meaning into those two words, far more than any poet ever managed. Move over Walden Pond, Tara was speaking again. Barbaric Yawp, my ass, hers was a full on sonic assault from the heart.

"Hey," I whispered back, "sleep good?"

She grinned mischievously and twisted into a sitting position.

She purred into my ear. "What kinda dreams were you having last night?"

I rubbed my cheek against hers. "Guess," I said as I pulled away to get back up and resumed the search for my errant towel. I suddenly saw it on the chair in the corner.

She shook her head with a grin. "From the sounds I’d say you were having a good time." A pause and she unexpectedly added, "Anyone I know?"

Thankfully I’d turned away to pick up the found towel and she couldn’t see my expression. A mixture of surprise and tension crossed my face and I tried to pick up my towel with an ease I didn’t feel.

"Someone you know very well." I answered, struggling to get my emotions under control. I succeed and grabbed my shower kit as well, turning around to smile at her.

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

My smile grew wider as I winked and headed out the door. I could feel her gaze on my back even as the door closed behind me. I slumped against the entryway and exhaled, relieved at my close escape, unhappy that I’d had to run.

I headed down the hallway to the community shower, praying for an easy day, knowing that it probably won’t be. School, followed by an afternoon and another evening filled with the undead and whatever crawled out of the Hellmouth. Maybe it would be quiet, maybe it would be a slow night, maybe something would come by, twist my head off, and end this miserable longing.

I didn’t think I was that lucky.


Tara and I made love that night like two beings on their last night together. An evening spent close to Buffy had raised my libido and charged my guilt strongly enough for both of us. An evening spent quietly inhaling her familiar scent even as I knew I couldn’t touch her again.

I longed to run my hands down Buffy’s smooth back, caress her hair, run my lips along her chin, anything to bring back that night. Anything to feel her in my arms again even if it meant her turning me away again. Even if it meant another morning crying my eyes out, alone, in the Student Union, frustrated at my emotions and what we had done.

Frustrated at the guilt that came unasked, but most assuredly deserved, with the joy.

I ambushed Tara as soon as we got back to the room. I almost threw her into our bed, removing her clothes in a haste that matched my need, and covered her mouth and body with hungered kisses. Her surprise quickly melted away into a drawn out trembling as I worked her entirety feverishly. Rapture followed release and I gave her no rest, gave no quarter, and accepted no mercy even as she returned the favor.

We moved together, skin sliding on skin, sweat mingling as we caressed each other, mouths seeking purchase and delivering messages of passion. Hours of writhing and possession and love and grasping and clenching that ended only with both of us finally collapsing into a drained heap together. Promises of affection and love slowly emerged through parched lips, even as we slowly cooled off in the glow of out lovemaking, wound tightly together.

Sleep came easily as I hoped it would, exhaustion making the transition from the fuzzy warmth of her embrace to a deep coma swift and easy. Her breathing took on monolithic proportions to my ears and propelled me into the nether worlds where I hopefully wouldn’t dream of a blond slayer again.

I still knew I wouldn’t be that lucky.


A knock at the door and I rise from the bed, alone, Tara on an overnighter with her Astronomy club. I know who it is, I know I shouldn’t let her in, and I know I will. Just as I know what is going to happen when the door opens.

The knob turns easily and I gaze into her eyes as she stands there, radiant within the darkness and loneliness she wears like a shroud. I smile and hold out my hand. She takes it and closes the door behind her as I pull her in.

We embrace swiftly, with none of the talk that surrounded the actual even, none of the outpouring of emotions over Riley’s departure, none of the friendly embrace that turned into something else in the dark. Nothing of the cause, only the effects, only the passion that sweeps over us, an undertow that carries us away in each other’s arms.

She holds me tightly, one hand around my waist, pressing my body to hers, one hand gripping the back of my head, pressing her lips to mine. Our tongues swim together and dance of their own accord. My hands roam her body even as her lips begin to dance destruction across my chin and down upon my neck. I groan and embrace my forbidden lover tightly within the dream, embracing the desire within, embracing the rushing forgetfulness of the passion that rises within me.

Embracing again the albatross that comes to me every night in my dreams.


The End

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