Funnier in Latin
Title: Red's Heart
Author: Princess Twilite
Spoilers: After season 2 finale. Fred is with Gunn
Summary: Someone comes to thank Fred for what she did to Willow
Disclaimer: All things BtVS and Angel belong to Joss Whedon.
Author's Note: Other couples are Fred/Tara Fred/Gunn.
It was a dream really - or it should have been. Fred couldn't be sure.
After all - when she'd remembered where she'd seen "Red" before - when she
remembered the sad eyed woman, almost as sad, a year ago - telling Angel that
Buffy [strange name] was dead - well, she'd been torn apart worse. And she
didn't have any reason to become involved with a third person. Didn't need
Gunn was still upset, he'd come into her bedroom and asked her if there was
" Is it Wesley?" He had whispered, supporting himself with the door knob,
glancing over his shoulder at her. She'd wished like hell she could have said
yes. But she just shook her head, and he slammed out, a crash could be heard,
and she knew he had knocked over the vase.
I love you - she had wanted to call out. But every now and then, she wondered
just who she was fooling. How could you love more than one person? She was
starting to think you couldn't, and maybe she was just learning a little bit
about herself now. Exploring was okay - and yeah, it might hurt and stab and
do all those bad things to other peoples hearts, but it wasn't something she
could help, or something she really wanted to stop.
So, like any confused person, Fred had pleaded sick once more, told Cordelia
and Angel to go have fun, doing whatever it was that Angel and Cordelia did.
They didn't seem to mind. They were probably going to have some stupid fun, in
some stupid theater, where they could both pretend to be stupid about each
Maybe she was sick. It stirred in her gut, that fitful longing, this time for
a different woman.
Two women filled her mind now, right along side of Gunn, Willow [she still
liked calling her Red, but it seemed somehow wrong now], with her soft lips
and leaking eyes. Then, there was this new one - this angel of a woman, with
long wheat colored hair, and body full of blessings.
There was Tara. And she couldn't be sure whether she was real.
Fred stood near the window of her room, touching a pane of glass - where the
moon whispered in, as silent as her breath, touching and kissing her in places
that she was loathe to remember, but couldn't really help it.
That damn dream.
Fred shook her head, frustrated with herself. This woman had come to her in
her head, during a nights diary of heartbreaks, whispered in her ear in a room
made of silk. Then kissed the edges of her blouse open.
Fred should have been shocked, but she wasn't.
A tongue had played with her breast, made her shiver at this needed woman's
touch. Oh how she'd missed it, missed the feel of such hands. Minutes and
hours, and dammit, YEARS of repression had burst forth and she had kissed this
dream woman with the force of a hurricane.
She was no longer Winifred Burkle. She was Fredricha. The woman she'd always
dreamed she'd be, gutsy - strong, sexy.
This imagined woman, pulled back from such a brutal assault of passion, and
touched a finger to Fred's lips, asked for a moment of silence with her
luminous eyes. Fred had no choice but to give it, so lost... so in need of
something, some unnamed, but now nameable something...
" You helped her." Tara whispered. " You gave her what she needed when she
lost her heart, made her okay for a minutes time, and I'm thankful for that."
Fred shuddered. Red. She'd helped red.
" W-what do you mean?" Gone was Fredricha, now she stood similar and afraid.
" I'm Tara, you don't know me. But you will. And I'll help you as you helped
A touch to the inside of her thighs, a finger trailing up and into her.
Slicking and spreading her juices through her core, where she clenched,
shocked and - well, not.
Where are my clothes?
Gentle fingers, manicured nails scraping along the bud of her desire. Making
her tremble deep inside, in her gut - straight to the heart. She wanted to
open up, to have that key twisted and be unlocked.
Dammit, I'm not a child, I'm not insane, and I'm NOT innocent...I don't care
how long I was gone, I want to exist.
Tara brushed a tender kiss over her nose, her eyes and then finally her lips.
Touching her tongue softly to the edge, seemingly soaking in the taste. Fred
shook as Tara did this, her hands grasping at soundless, colorless air. Felt
weightless, set free as this stranger fingered her, brought to the surface of
her skin, a bucket of red paint...
Red. As red as Willow's suggestive hair...
And then she was gasping, calling out a prayer, a curse, a blissful song into
Tara's plump mouth, tangling tongues and thrusting her hips down, down, down.
Minutes later, Fred lay on her back, lips touching her between her legs and
she was coming again, body locking up - jerking against whatever surrounded
Oh god, it felt good - to have a knowing tongue between her legs. Gunn's had
been brilliant, this new - slippery appendage that had been flicked and
flicked and flicked, but Tara's? Now THIS was what she wanted at THIS moment.
She could no longer deny it, no matter how MUCH she loved Gunn, she loved
these women too, in their own way.
Or maybe she just desired them all. Maybe she was just selfish.
No, she just wanted to know. She was a scientist after all.
That wasn't it either - hell, the truth was...
And then she had been alone, dream gone, drifting way. Fred was left sweating
and twisting in the sheets of her bed. Shocked speechless. And again, almost
calmed and settled.
So yeah, this was her new secret life. Fred had a secret life, who would have
She sat now, on the edge of the love seat she'd begged into her room.
Remembering. And slowly, so slowly she ached, she pushed her pants down,
imagined one lover, with changing faces:
Willow - Tara - Gunn - Tara - Willow
Hell, she wanted them all. It didn't matter that she would in the end, only
have one. Didn't matter at all - cause that was the kinda woman she was, or
that she wanted to be. So, she'd fantasize - about the way they moved, the way
Willow would push her crotch against Fred's face, the way Tara gave and gave,
and the way Gunn slipped inside of her.
She wasn't a slut. After all, she'd only been with two people, and dreamed of
another, she didn't know WHAT this made her, except a woman now, who knew her
body. Who had been touched by hands both hard and those that were smooth like
satin. A woman who was damned sure, she would be sent to hell for doing all
the things she'd done...
But in this moment, with all the fear and turmoil and yes, the despair - with
all that stupid confusion sweltering up like the Texas heat in her brain, well
now - she touched herself, and thought of them.
She reveled in it.
And didn't realize she was crying.