"Vixens"
By Dumbsaint
DISCLAIMER QUEEN: Willow and Tara are only mine in my deepest, darkest,
perviest, silliest dreams, and as for the rest of the Scooby crew, well,
they're not mine even then. Okay... there was that one dream I had about
Buffy and Faith along for the ride (quite literally) with Tara and Willow and
I, but I digress... On a wholy 'nother disclaimer queen type note, this is my
first fan fic. I'm a wir-gin, please be gentle.
PAIRING: Willow and Tara in lerve and in lust.
RATING: SSSSS for Salaciously saccharine, silly, sapphic sweetness. XXX for
the gradual degeneration from pent up lust into an all out, glorious lesbian
boinkfest of graphic proportions. We're talking outright smut here. Maybe
just one more X for X-tra fun. Oh, alright, let's just go with NC-17.
DISTRIBUTION: Uh... okay. <shrug>
SPOILERS: More or less towards the end of Season 4.
FEEDBACK: Would be most appreciated. I can be reached at
Graashoppa@aol.com, or you can check out my paltry little writing website @ h
ttp://hometown.aol.com/graashoppa/myhomepage/profile.html, or my slightly
neater one on SqueekInk @http://www.squeek-ink.8m.com, where you can even
order an indie collection of my work. Exciting stuff, no?
PLOT SUMMARY: Fed up with their apparent, shyness-induced inability to
consummate their growing relationship, Tara takes matters (and Willow) into
her own hands.
PROPS, TO BE IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY SHAMELESS BEGGING: This fan fic was
influenced a good deal by, and probably would not have been written at all
without the deliciously delightful spur of Wiccie's "Fun With Friction"
series. I hereby join Captain Murdock, wholeheartedly, (wholeloinedly, too)
in tugging at the Wic'sters sleeve, pleading for more. Please please please
please?
ON THE SUBJECT OF "THE GOLD MINE": In the Juliaverse (Julia, that would be
me. Nicetameetcha.), Tara is a natural blonde.
FINAL WARNING: In addition to being extremely sexually explicit (in a big,
scary lesbo type way) this piece is really, really, really, really, really,
really long. Like... 30 pages long. I got a little carried away, heh... but
boy was it fun.
~~~
Tara shuffled down the hallway towards the communal dorm showers, hugging her
big, fluffy towel to her big-fluffy-robe clad body with one arm, her shower
tote swinging idly from the other. Squeezing her toes against the rough pile
of the carpet beneath her bare feet, she smiled to herself as she walked, her
grin equal parts sleepyheaded zombiefication and wicked, anticipatory glee.
The hall was silent but for the soft, muffled sound of her own footsteps. It
was just after 6:30 a.m., and it seemed none of her floormates were up yet.
Indeed, Tara, herself, was not usually awake quite this early, either. But
today was special. Today was- she paused in thought, smiling to herself,
today was the beginning of a very particular, very delicate experiment.
Trying to ignore the nervous knots in her belly, she sunk her teeth into the
full flesh of her lower lip. It will work, she told herself, seeking
reassurance. It has to. Something has to, this is getting ridiculous! Even
for me.
Having reached the shower stalls, Tara chose one of the last ones in the row
and quickly ducked inside, closing the door fast behind her, and slipping the
latch into place. Setting the tote and her bundled towel down on the small
bench, one by one, she began to unwrap the items she had brought along with
her: the little knife, the wide-mouthed bottle full of the herbed concoction
she had prepared so painstakingly the night before, and a small square of
plain parchment paper.
Cocking her head for a moment to listen for anyone nearby, still she could
hear no one up and about.
"Well, just to be sure,..." she murmured under her breath, taking up the
knife in her right hand. Holding the blade before her like a wand, she began
to trace the shape of the shower stall all around her, chanting softly.
"All sound be sealed inside with me,
As I will, so mote it be."
Her final word, "be," echoed suddenly back at her.
"Not bad, Tara," she said aloud to herself, enjoying the reverberation effect
the simple spell had on her voice. Rather wickedly, she was seized with a
sudden desire to hear another voice bouncing off the invisible walls she'd
thrown up all around this tiny space. Naughty babble echoes infiltrated her
mind.
"Mmmm," she sighed.
Tara closed her eyes and saw a flash of steamy water, wet, naked flesh,
blonde and red hair sodden and sticking to soft shoulders. She heard ghostly
panting, felt hot breath from a phantom mouth at her ear.
Lust, like electricity, pulsed down the length of her body, her clit babbling
back up at her in a fierce Morse code cadence.
Her normally cool blue eyes smoldering, Tara hastily tore off her robe and
tossed it onto the hook on the back of the stall door. Grabbing for the
bottle of herb potion, she fumbled with the stopper lid for a moment and then
tossed it back onto the towel.
First she anointed herself with the oil. Inhaling the scent of jasmine and
sandalwood, she started at the top of her body and went all the way down: the
top of her head, her brow, lips, the pulse at her throat, between her
breasts, solar plexus, and finally, trailing a line down across her belly,
she grazed her oiled fingers over her clit, trying hard not to linger
overlong there. She'd get to that soon enough.
Again with the lower lip biting, she mused distractedly. Where was I?
Spell. Yes. Come on, Tara, get this naughty show on the road already. She
forced herself to daub the oil onto her feet, too, though her brain was still
stuck a few feet higher.
My own enthusiasm overwhelms me, literally, Tara chuckled. Her nervousness
began to dissipate somewhat into the warmth that flooded her belly. This is
for Willow and me, she reminded herself. This is for us. She took a
steadying breath, focusing on her love for the redhead.
Taking the knife up again, the blonde witch dipped the tip of its blade into
the oil, like a quill into an inkwell, and using it in just that manner,
began to carefully etch runes onto the scrap of parchment, the lines of them
glistening in a soft, ruddy brown hue against the yellow-cream color of the
paper. She smiled to see the brown and red water color paints she'd added to
the mix serving their intended function so nicely. Once finished she pulled
back a bit to examine her handiwork. Two female runes, their staffs
intersecting at a perpendicular angle stood next to three other runes:
Peorth, Gifu, and Wynn. Secret longings moving full circle into the gift of
perfect love, Tara held their combined meanings firmly in mind as she began
to chant again, setting the knife back down.
"Psyche, Persephone, your longing is mine. Is ours-
Let the object of my love, and me, be made free."
Tara held one hand flat, the parchment resting atop it, and raised her other
hand about six inches above that. Drawing up the very heat from her veins,
the power that pulsed throughout her body singing so sweetly, she focused it
into the downturned palm of the higher hand, pressing the energy downwards
into the paper.
"Asherah, Innana, all boundaries be banished;
Remove all obstacles between my love and me."
The lines of the runes began to glow brightly, and then to smolder, casting
up a perfumed smoke. Repeating the verses one more time, Tara felt the power
of the spell flowing out and upwards, reaching beyond the showers, beyond her
dorm, seeking out a certain copper-tressed vixen asleep in her own bed in the
room she shared with the Slayer.
She wished for a moment that Willow was there with her, that they were
casting this spell together. She had thought about asking her, but decided
that perhaps it'd be more fun this way. Besides, if she had been able to
simply ask her to do something like this in the first place there'd be no
need for this particular spell.
The things I have to resort to in order to overcome the shyness
heebie-jeebies. A pensive expression crept up over Tara's face.
"Am I doing the right thing?" she asked herself out loud. She was planning
to tell Willow about the spell, definitely. And who was to say that Willow
wouldn't figure it out for herself? That was an interesting notion, indeed.
A smile twitched at her lips momentarily, and then she immediately grabbed at
her stomach.
"Why isn't this spell working yet? I still feel... masses and masses of
butterflies in my tummy."
Tara looked down at her twitchified belly, placing one hand on it for
comfort.
Really, they were both the biggest geeks in the world, she thought, smiling
in sympathy for the two of them. That Willow wanted her was plain enough,
equally as much as she desired the redhead. She could see it in the witch's
luminous green eyes, could hear it in the way her breath would catch when
they brushed hands. She could feel it each time they tentatively kissed-
there had been quite a few kisses, but they were generally the restrained
kind. Unsure kisses, that would sometimes build to passionate kisses, which
ended inevitably in one of them breaking the intensity of those frantic
moments of fumbling hands and wet mouths trailing. They wanted each other-
terribly, were both desperately, painfully aware of it, but they simply
hadn't been able to bring their mutual longing to completion. The sexual
tension between them had reached such a delirious level that it merely caused
them to one-up the other into even sillier extremes of timidity.
But not for long! The spell, along with the other plans Tara had in
conjunction with it should set their longing to such a fevered pitch that
even their goofy, shy selves couldn't mess it up this time. One tentative
finger on her lips, Tara began to imagine what it might be like- their first
time. Would they be tender? Would they tear at each other's clothes, all
frenzied and breathless, grinding into one another? Probably a little of
both, she thought idly, swaying a bit on her feet as she imagined a certain
body pressed tightly against her own, her lovely Willow's head thrown back,
the witch's breath coming hard and fast.
"Oooh!" the exclamation passed her lips even before she knew it was coming.
The butterflies in her tummy seemed to have moved over to make room for an
entirely other sensation. Tara felt her eyes dilate, lips trembling, her
breath quickening.
The ache in her pulsed keenly, the ache for Willow. Willow, she sighed,
longing to run her hands through the witch's hair. In her mind's eye, her
hands roamed elsewhere along the redhead's skin, tracing narrow hipbones,
sleek thighs. Tara gulped, having begun to salivate rather excessively at
the thought of all the secret places of Willow's body which she hadn't yet
been introduced to.
Yes, it was definitely time for Naughty Willow to meet Naughty Tara. Let the
sexing begin, both the Naughty and the Nicer side of Tara thought together.
The blonde witch grinned, feeling a little anticipatory shiver run through
her.
Finished with the ritual part of her spelling, and answering to a higher
need, she carefully, if hastily, replaced the parchment next to her towel on
the bench, and then restoppered the bottle of love oil, placing it atop the
slip of paper so that it wouldn't fall to the floor. She'd need it later on.
Quickly moving forward to turn on the water, Tara grabbed up the purple
plastic tote and set it down on the floor of the shower. She tested the
temperature with one hand; it was perfect. One nice thing about these awful
little dorm shower stalls- you never had to wait for hot water, and you
never, ever ran out. Long, hot showers, with Willow's body pressed against
her own...
Throb.
Stepping into the spray, Tara luxuriated in the sensation of the steaming
water beating down against her skin. Her suddenly very hot, very sensitive,
near painfully aroused skin.
She reached down for the wash cloth tucked into the tote and, loading it up
with body wash, began to scrub herself all over, alternating between softly
soapy caressing strokes and a firmer pressure that left her skin flushed and
tingling.
As she did this, she very, very lightly reached out to touch the sleeping
mind of one Willow Rosenberg, finding the Scooby curled into a ball in her
own bed, dreaming of- of giant sunflowers marching down the yellowbrick road
carrying buckets full of carrots. It was a scene right out of Fantasia's
"The Sorcerer's Apprentice," only gone horribly, horribly Willowweird.
This crazy, crazy girl that I have chosen, Tara giggled, shaking her head
slightly. Sometimes I just don't know what I'm going to do with her.
"What I'm going to do with her," she said aloud, her voice a mere murmur as
she swept the soapy cloth across the curve of her belly. "Hmmm,..." Tara
sighed, leaning into the pulse of the water, and insinuated herself gently
into Willow's dream.
~~~
From her vantage point alongside of the yellowbrick road, Willow watched
thoughtfully as the army of sunflowers marched past her off towards the
broccoli palace. It all looked well enough, and yet something was strangely
out of place, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Those buckets
of theirs- they were full of carrots? Weren't they supposed to be bringing
something else? Something- she stared at the rows and rows of tall,
sun-bleached plants that filled the fields all around her. Corn stalks.
Corn. Popcorn! That was it! The broccoli people wanted popcorn to go with
their cartoons. She'd go start gathering some immediately. Those broccoli
royalty folks, they weren't the type you wanted to displease. All green and
florety, with their beady little black eyes.
As she turned away from the road towards the corn stalks, Will could see
steam rising up from somewhere in the center of the field. And was that a
running shower that she heard?
"That's a little odd." She turned a confused countenance toward the growing
cloud of steam.
~~~
Tara brought her free hand to her mouth, stifling back the giggles that
threatened to erupt at Willow's words. Yeah, sweetie, goddess forbid
something 'odd' should present itself in your dreams. Oh, no, your dreams
are totally normal, Madame Apprentice, Commander of the Sunflower Army.
Settling the washcloth against her vulva, Tara began to rub two fingers in a
circular motion over her clit, enjoying the added friction of the soap-slick,
wet terrycloth between her hand and her increasingly aching flesh. Hearing
her own breath quicken and grow heavy in the shower stall, she had to remind
herself of the silence spell she'd cast, regardless finding it much easier
than usual to squelch her shyness-borne impulse to be *quiet*. Allowing a
low moan to escape her lips, she concentrated on forwarding the sensations
building in her body directly to Willow's.
~~~
Stepping into the forest of golden, towering plants, Will followed the sound
of running water until she came to a break in the rows of- she paused,
looking around in confusion- lushly green magic beanstalks.
Magic beanstalks? I'm getting my veggies crossed, and maybe my Disney
cartoon movies crossed, too. Her brow wrinkling with anxiety, the corners of
her wide mouth curved downward into a troubled frown.
"The harp is in the well," she mumbled to herself. "But the water-"
A wanton moan caught Willow's attention just as she came into view of a
shower stall in the clearing.
Whoa!
Her head reeled with the sensations that began to pulse throughout her body
out of nowhere, the sound she'd heard causing something to tighten inher
belly, something achy, something delightfully tingly and warm.
It was an occupied shower stall, she realized quickly, as she could see
through the slightly steamed-up, opaque sliding glass door. Blonde hair, a
familiar profile- Willow's breath caught as she recognized the shower
occupant. She swallowed convulsively, licking her lips.
The potential wrath of broccoli people suddenly forgotten, Will stumbled as
slow pulses of heat now expanded outward from her clit. Coming very near to
losing her balance entirely, the redhead clutched at the beanstalk nearest
her.
"Ohhh, my goddess," she panted, the sensation of being stroked all over her
body overtaking her senses. Slowly drawing nearer to the shower and its
oblivious inhabitant, Willow's eyes remained glued to the immistakable form
of Tara soaping her very naked self. She gawked, transfixed by the curves of
the blonde witch's body, waves of sensuous pleasure still traveling up and
down her own.
Now standing just outside the glass door, Willow continued to stare unabashed
at her sweet girlfriend, Tara's mouth having fallen open slightly as another
sound of pure longing escaped her. Willow ran her tongue over her teeth, her
hands clenching down at her sides.
And then Will nearly jumped out of her skin as Tara turned her head over her
shoulder and looked right at the redhead. The witch felt herself blush down
to her toes with such heat that surely, she thought, her face must have
turned the same color as her hair.
Oh, no, Willow cried out in the silent space of her head, throwing her hands
over her face as if to hide herself from the blonde, but still unable to
resist peeking out through her splayed fingers. This is so bad. *I* am so
bad. I have never been so embarrassed in all of my- wait a minute.
Tara was looking right through her, not actually at her, her pale blue eyes
fixed hazily onto a point beyond where Willow stood watching. Her tongue
practically hanging out of her mouth now, Will continued to look on as one of
the blonde's hands began to move steadily southward.
"Oh, my goddess," Will repeated, as Tara's hand found what it was looking
for. The voluptuous witch's gaze grew still more unfocused as she caressed
the folds of her labia, her thumb tracing circles around her clit.
She can't see me, Will realized. Whoa, she can't see me! Her mortified
expression quickly faded, altering to an only slightly guilty one. She knew
that she should turn away from watching, but simply couldn't bring herself
to. Naughty Willow had arrived on-scene, and she was loving this.
Nice Willow wasn't ready to give up quite so easily. "Well," she began,
re-entering babble mode and trying to justify the gawkiness, "it is *my*
dream after all. I-isn't it? And... I wouldn't be *having* such a dream if
I wasn't meant to look. And the girl that I am madly in love with, but
haven't yet had the guts to actually make love to, is naked, dripping wet,
and masturbating about six inches away from me, separated from me only by
a... pane of glass, and goodness gracious, LOOK at her! She is so
beautiful..."
"Tara, you are so beautiful," she breathed. And you're mine, she added
silently, her throat aching with the sweet sensation of loving this woman.
All mine...
Will found herself placing her hands, palms outstretched, against the glass.
Her face pressed up against it as well, she gazed in wonderment at the nymph
before her. Tara absolutely looked like something directly out of a Greek
myth. An extremely naughty myth, but weren't all those stories about the
sexploits of the gods anyway? What kind of sexploits did she and Tara have
in their future, Will wondered, unable to tear her eyes away from her
girlfriend.
My lover, she thought. We'll be lovers.
Why weren't they already? She couldn't recall what had been stopping them,
and was suddenly struck by the strangeness of never having before taken this
in with her eyes, this gorgeous, naked creature who was more dear to her,
clothed or not, than anyone else in her life ever had been before.
Still seeming totally unaware of Willow's presence, the divine Miss MacClay
continued to let her hands roam lingeringly along her own body, one hand
lathering soapy suds up and down inbetween her full breasts, teasing her
nipples into hard little peaks. Her eyes now closed, Tara inclined her head
towards the shower door. Her teeth were visible as she bit down gently on
her lower lip.
Willow shivered, running her hands reverently up and down the glass, and
still feeling waves of pleasure radiate from her own center. The skin on the
palms of her hands had become uncommonly sensitive, and she needed to touch
something- anything. Goddess, to have her hands on Tara's skin right now...
Unconsciously, she began to slightly roll her hips, pressing her clit against
the surface of the glass door. She couldn't take her eyes from Tara's mouth,
those full lips curved so sensuously, her face a perfect mask of concentrated
pleasure.
"Willow!" the blonde moaned, eliciting an answering moan from the girl
outside. "Oh, Willow!"
She's thinking about- about me? Well, of course she's thinking about me. I
mean, not of course but... she's wanting me while she- while she- Oh!
Willow grasped futilely at the smooth surface of the sliding door, feeling
her insides turn molten with desire. "I'm here, Tara, baby-" she whispered,
her mouth mere inches from her love's. "I can feel you-" Willow whimpered,
aching for the hot sweetness that was Tara's mouth.
And she *could* feel her. She could feel the rolling motion of Tara's hips
pressed up against her own, the ripple of the muscles under the unbearably
soft skin of Tara's belly- the slide of wet flesh on wet flesh, of hot,
steaming water beading off of both of their bodies as they stroked each other
within mere inches of the brink of sanity. And then she was there in the
shower, Tara's naked skin sliding over her own, mouth nipping at her
collarbone, hands exploring her own soft folds. Willow cried out from the
intensity of the moment, clutching at Tara's shoulders- and then at her
sheets, which she had crumpled into handfuls.
Willow lay in bed, writhing with lust, her body absolutely on fire. A corner
of the sheet had become tangled around and inbetween her legs, the pressure
of the tightly stretched fabric against her clit wickedly, deliciously
unbearable. She switched her hips back and forth, still caught up in the
vividness of her dream, fighting not to wake up fully even as the last
vestiges of Tara's hands and mouth and skin faded away much too quickly.
And then her alarm clock went off. It was 7:15, time to get up and rush to
get ready for her early lab.
With a cry of frustration, Willow pulled her covers up over her head, adding
a squeal of indignation for good measure. So close. She had been so very,
achingly close-
"Will?" Buffy's voice, slurred with very recent (or partially present)
unconsciousness, penetrated through the blankets over Willow's face.
Guiltily, the hacker pulled them down just enough to peek out over them, her
shortish coppery locks all askew, large green eyes wide and blinking.
Buffy had groggily raised her head from her pillow, her eyes still
half-lidded with sleep. "Will're you okay?" she mumbled, yawning mightily.
"Yes, Buffy, sorry to wake you. I was just- uh," Will grasped for an
excuse, "protesting having to get up for class."
This garnered a slight, cock-eyed frown from the Slayer. "Since when d'you
<yawn> protest going to class?"
"Good point!" Willow agreed, forcing brightness into her tone and hopping
out of bed to turn off the alarm. "Silly me. You know me, heck of silly
girl, from whom the stream of silliness never ends. I'll just be getting up
now and taking a- um," Willow broke off suddenly, a nervous smile finding its
way to her face. She swallowed. "Yeeeeah," she drawled absently, noting
that Buffy had already fallen back asleep.
Now on her feet, the intense throbbing of her clit surged up and down her
legs, the sensation rooting itself deep in her belly. Deep in her- she
whimpered, cutting that thought off.
Can't think about that. Can't. No, no. No time. No time! She could have
sobbed.
The heat in her body was making her dizzy, weak-kneed, the wetness and heat
of her pussy so intense that she felt as though she'd die if she couldn't get
satisfaction. Right. NOW! Ruthlessly suppressing her desire, Willow shook
herself, trying to get oriented once more to the non-naked, non-steaming,
non-smutty-shower-sceney world. Have to get ready for class, come on, Willow.
With a final half-hearted whimper, she lurched toward her closet, trying
valiantly to resign herself to the fact that she had to be in class in
fifteen minutes, and had time only for a few brief moments under the shower
spray, during which fleeting while she'd have to concentrate on waking up and
washing her hair. Five minutes perhaps. Thinking about taking a hurried
shower after that dream made the prospect of that five minutes stretch into a
neverending, slow-as-molasses-dripping-by eternity during every single
nanosecond of which she was sure she'd be still be feeling, all the more
acutely, Tara's naked body pressed against her own... under the steaming, hot
water.
Or I could take a cold shower, she thought. Ha ha. A cold shower. No!
It's really NOT funny, she decided. The absence of funny was overwhelming.
"I can do this," she mumbled under her breath. "Hmmm- Can't I? Sure I can.
Willow, queen of imperviousness to temptation, superhero of chastity
extraordinaire-" The ghosting image of Tara's hands sliding through short
blonde nethercurls automatically disengaged the stream of super-babble.
"Face it, you're fucked- or rather, sadly unfucked," Naughty Willow chimed in.
"Oh, good grief!" Willow did a little hopping-up-and-down dance of
frustration before finally exiting the room to head for her impending torture
session. Pouting, she closed the door behind her.
~~~
Back in the shower, Tara felt Willow wake from the secretly shared dream, and
forced herself, with great self-control, to stop touching herself. She was
so close to slipping over the edge into orgasm that she had to bite down on
the flesh of her upper arm for a few moments to distract herself- the pain
sending exquisite shivers down her spine. Growling softly, she ran her
tongue over her own skin, pawing at her belly and breasts, trying to sate
herself somehow. It really wouldn't be fair to let herself come when she had
willfully teased Willow in such a way, knowing full well that the redhead
wouldn't have time before her lab to "fix" what Tara had started. That was
the idea, though. And it would be much, *much* better, Tara reminded
herself, to make herself wait until she had teased the *both* of them into
utter wantonness.
It had been weeks now since their first kiss, since the dawning of dopishly
sweet endearments. They had bared their witchy souls to each other, and
their inner shy dweebs- and now only their reticent, inner pervie girls
needed introduction. If she had to force such an introduction with magic,
then so be it. The remaining traces of ambivalence she'd been feeling about
the ethics of the spell began, finally, to disappear. Who was she kidding?
She should have done this a while ago. And just what kind of pervert would
her sweet, silly Willow turn out to be, she wondered, delighting in the
possibilities. Her mind spun with them.
No, there was no point in feeling guilty for casting the love charm behind
Willow's back. It wasn't as if she was trying to create love and longing
where it didn't exist. She was just helping them to have what they both so
clearly wanted, each other nakedly writhing around in bed, in showers, up
against walls.
Throb. Throb. Throb.
Not now! She glared down at her clit. Leave me alone!
It wouldn't.
"Serves me right, I suppose," she had to admit.
Forcing herself to pick up her shampoo bottle, Tara tried determinedly, if
unsuccessfully, to get her mind off of the insistent ache. Soon, she
promised herself. Just a little while longer...
~~~
For the first time perhaps in her entire scholarly life, Willow Rosenberg
found herself totally unable to concentrate during class, her mind, along
with renegade factions of her body, straying defiantly back to thoughts of
her lovely Tara. By halfway through the discussion of logarithms, an all out
riot was in progress in Willowland, and her sanity was losing. She had never
been so horny in her entire life, and it was driving her absolutely mad.
Even the mile-long numbers on the white board at the front of the room
taunted her, unfolding their digits and decimals into geometric shapes that
swirled and pulsed in her head. In other places, too. The angles of
squares, Tara's shoulder blades, hipbones, elliptic curves tracing the shape
of her torso.
This is SO very out of hand, Will thought to herself, bringing one hand to
her forehead to massage her temples. She was still trying to block out the
various shapes written in the lines of Tara's body when she noticed that her
classmates were shuffling papers and books, and rising to leave.
Realizing then that she hadn't so much as taken out a notebook through out
the entire class, she shook her head, rolling her eyes derisively and
launched herself from her seat. Nice, Willow, she chastised herself.
Finally free from the confines of the classroom, the redhead lit out for the
cafeteria to grab breakfast. She may not have time yet to assuage a certain
relentless longing, but at least she could do something about the rumbliness
of her tummy. It's some kind of appeasement, she thought, only slightly
mollified.
Making her way through the cafeteria line in a daze, Will found herself just
alert enough to reflect over her busy schedule for the rest of the day.
Realizing then just how busy it was, it was all she could do not to scream
her frustration out for the entire cafeteria, no, the entire universe, to
hear. She had classes until lunch, and had promised to tutor a girl in her
O-Chem class for a few hours before her late afternoon lecture. Then dinner,
then the Scooby meeting, and then what if Buffy came right back to their room
afterwards, and she couldn't be alone so that she could- arrghh!
The cashier was staring at her evilly, she noticed after a moment, as well as
the guy behind her in line. What's their problem? Willow found herself
glowering right back. Don't these people understand that I need to
MASTURBATE?!
Hastily paying for her muffin, yogurt, and orange juice, she headed for a
table off against the wall. Lo and behold, who should she pass on the way to
said destination, looking delectable in a soft blue cardigan which hung
precariously off of one bare shoulder? A certain blonde sat at a table
alone, cradling inbetween her fingers her post-breakfast cup of herbal tea.
Tara has incredibly sexy hands, Will realized. Why have I never noticed this
before?
Sighing over the curvature of Tara's neck as the blonde witch bent down to
blow across the surface her steaming tea, Willow blinked, trying to make
herself look away, or at least not to look as though she wanted to devour the
girl on the spot.
It was useless. Fire still raged under her skin, curling up in her veins and
pulsing its way into every crevice of her being. At the sight of that sweet
face, though, her desire softened somewhat, her body flooding with equal
parts lust and pure adoration.
One errant lock of blonde hair had escaped from the whispy bun the rest of it
was pulled back into, and as she watched Tara smooth it back over her ear,
the adoration started to take over.
"Tara!" she finally called, a huge goofy grin plastering itself across her
face as she closed the remaining distance between them.
Tara rose from her seat, delighted to see her. She's delighted to see me,
Willow savored the knowledge, grinning even bigger and sillier.
"Willow," Tara greeted her sweetly, wrapping her arms around the redhead in a
warm, welcoming hug. "Good morning, my darling" she said, holding her tight,
and running a caressing hand across Will's cheek. Her touch burned like
fire, those bewitching fingers trailing sparks across her skin. Still
pressed against her love, in that lingering hug, it was all Willow could do
not to grind her hips lasciviously against the blonde's, not to take those
long fingers into her mouth to suck on.
Feeling the need to sit down, Willow pulled away and flopped weakly into the
chair across the little table from her temptress. She really does look like
a temptress today, Willow decided, trying not to stare at Tara's collarbone,
at the soft pulse in her throat visible near there. It was entirely too
distracting. Must find something else to- Oh, no. That's not going to
help, either! Tara was wearing a low-cut tank top underneath her open
sweater, and the buxom witch's cleavage drew down her girlfriend's gaze like
the pull of the moon on the tides.
"Gravitational no-nos are at it again," Willow babbled under her breath,
ripping the top off of her carton of yogurt and attacking it ravenously. She
had to get something in her mouth- this instant- or she would surely fall
over dead.
"What was that, sweetie?" Tara asked, sipping her tea. Her calm blue eyes
sparkled slightly, tranquil, at peace.
"Hmmm?" Willow looked quickly down, breaking the eye contact that threatened
to swallow her up. She felt her eyes graze Tara's skin again. Why does
looking at her feel like *touching* her today, the redhead railed inwardly.
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about math lab," she dissembled
none-too-convincingly, starting to pinch off a bite of her muffin.
Food. Must concentrate on food.
"A ha," Tara said slowly, looking up at Willow through her long lashes. "Did
you, um- sleep... well?" The blonde asked. Willow almost choked on her
mouthful of muffin, trying to discern whether the slight huskiness to Tara's
voice was real or only lustfully imagined.
"I- I," Willow stammered. "Yes. Very well. Very." Heat crept up the back
of her neck, and she arched it, trying to shake off the hold of her desire.
Go to sleeeeeeep, she pleaded with her libido, closing her eyes momentarily.
"Aww, do you have a headache?" Tara leaned forward, frowning sympathetically.
I have a whole body ache, Willow answered silently. Fix it- take me back to
your room and make mad, passionate, crazy love to me. A little shocked at
the forwardness of this, even unspoken, Willow gulped. "Yeah," she replied
absently.
Well, look at me, she thought. Go on with my naughty self. But could she
get such a sentence out of her mouth? Could she ask Tara for what she
wanted? She hadn't been able to so far, for weeks. Maybe, she thought,
gazing into Tara's loving face. Maybe she could. The blonde was looking at
her with such tenderness- the way she always looked at her, Willow reflected,
melting even more in all the places that mattered.
"Poor sweetie, here let me give you a back rub." Tara was up and in the
chair next to her before Willow could answer. The redhead's shoulders
tensed up at Tara's initial touch as she fought to keep her desire under
control.
"Wow, you *are* tense, Willow," Tara dug her fingers into the resisting
muscles, kneading firmly but gently. Will could smell a distinctly unusual
scent coming off of Tara's skin. Spicy, jasminey. It was nice.
Leaning into Tara's touch, Willow sighed. Her love's fingers moved slowly,
massaging her shoulders, the planes of her shoulder blades, and then moving
to her neck, as one hand slid upwards, fingertips pressing into the column of
vertebrae there. Tara's fingers slipped caressingly through her hair,
fingernails soonafter trailing wickedly delicate lines across her scalp.
"Mmmmm." Willow tilted her head back farther, sighing in pleasure.