Title: Answering Wetness
Author: Sassette
Feedback:
pink_overalls@yahoo.comRating: NC-17 - Do Not Read At Work, Or Anywhere Else If Underage
Spoilers: None, though set in the S7 that aired in my head.
Summary: If you can’t figure that out from the title and the rating, you’re too young to read this fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Willow and Tara, or any other characters from B:tVS (not that other characters are going to appear in this fic, mind you). I’m not making any money from the writing of this piece of fan-fiction.
Pairing: W/T
Notes: Random NC-17 fic isn’t exactly my style … I’m more given to random philosophical ramblings or schmoopy cuddly fluff. However, as this title was requested, and I have just noticed that the Vignette Series has reached 100,000 views (and I’m feeling the guilt of STILL not finishing Recycled, or even making an attempt to finish LD so far), I felt the need to convey my appreciation for all the shiny happy people who read this stuff.
Warning: This has not been beta'd. Do not read if overly sensitive to typos.
Answering Wetness
By Sassette
Willow huffed as she tossed her bag on the couch in the living room, blowing the hair away from her face because she was too tired to raise her suddenly free hands. A long and arduous week of the project from hell - and that was saying something in Sunnydale - had kept her from home for far too long.
Not that she hadn’t been home - home being the place she went to sleep and woke up before leaving again. At least, recently, that’s all home had been, and she was sick of it - sick of spending hours upon hours painstakingly assembling data, running it through her procedures, noting results, and repeating again and again. She was sick of grabbing a piece of toast as she hurried out, and everyone being asleep when she returned.
Mostly, she was sick of missing out on Tara-time … of not hearing about her day, or telling her about her own. Otherwise, the project would have been extremely exciting - challenging and interesting, and everything she enjoyed about academia. But still … she just didn’t enjoy it like she should, and she knew that was because she hadn’t had the opportunity to share it with Tara. Without her Tara-time, her enthusiasm had bled away slowly, her sense of responsibility and commitment the only thing carrying her through the monotonous days.
Finally, she had had enough, and with a hard slap to the computer desk and a look of such utter resolve the other students shied away from her, she had stalked up to the professor and pronounced that she wasn’t taking this anymore. She was damn well going to go home at a decent hour for once and get some smoochie time with her girlfriend.
Ignoring the whistles and catcalls that pronouncement garnered, she gathered up her bag and started the long walk home, her eagerness at seeing her family speeding her steps. But overwork and lack of sleep caught up to her, and her steps dragged, until finally, she walked up the steps and opened the door.
She looked around in some confusion, wondering where everyone was. Dawn, at least, was usually watching TV at this time of day, and Buffy was often right beside her, heckling the physical ineptitude of the latest round of reality show contestants.
Feeling somewhat dejected that her early unexpected homecoming was going unnoticed, she shuffled into the kitchen. When it was Tara’s turn to cook, that’s where she’d be, and when it wasn’t, she’d be in the backyard, doing homework and conveniently remaining closeby in case whoever >was< cooking had questions or had set something on fire.
The kitchen, however, was Tara-free, and a peek into the backyard quickly told her that Tara wasn’t there, either. Frowning, she looked around the kitchen, utterly confused by the lack of people in the house. Had they said they weren’t going to be home? The thought triggered some niggling memory, and Willow’s eyes fell on the refrigerator, where she kept a color-coded household schedule. She stepped toward it, and noticed right away that Dawn and Buffy were blocked as “out of town” for the next three days.
She sighed a little, finally remembering that Giles was visiting, and had taken the Summers’ girls camping. She and Tara had been invited as well, but what with school and all, they had declined
That still, however, left the little matter of where the frilly heck Tara was.
Was she studying on campus? Had she made plans with friends who weren’t too busy to spend time with her? Did she develop some kind of basket-weaving habit while Willow had been pre-occupied?
Shaking her head to clear her overtired brain, Willow trudged into the living room then made her way up the stairs. If Tara wasn’t home, she’d just use this opportunity to catch up on some sleep, and with any luck, Tara would wake her up when she arrived.
The trip up the stairs seemed longer than she remembered somehow, her legs heavier. Finally, she reached the top and started down the hallway when a low groan met her ears.
Willow froze for a moment, a little frown on her face, before wondering if Tara >was< home, and possibly sick? She took two steps towards the door to their room then stopped again, her brain registering the fact that that sound had most emphatically >not< been Tara’s “I’m sick” groan, but Tara’s …
The unmistakable sound of a hitched breath followed by a low breathy moan drifted through the door, and Willow was pulled closer by some primal force, all feeling of fatigue fleeing as that sound entered her ears, wriggled into her bloodstream and spread a tingly warmth through her body. The effect was instant and consuming, as she stepped closer to the door, cautiously and quietly. Her left hand touched the doorknob, and her right hand pushed against the door, palm flat, but she didn’t turn the knob.
Was Tara … ?
Turning her head and pressing her cheek against the door, Willow heard Tara sigh her name, the word full of longing and unfulfilled passions. That one word called to her, beckoned her, and an answering wetness gathered between her legs and her lips parted as her breathing sped up. She became acutely aware of just how much - and what kind - of Tara-time she’d been missing this past week as her body sent her very clear signals that it hadn’t heard those noises in quite some time, and it wasn’t at all happy about it. Her eyes drifted half-closed, losing all focus as she concentrated on listening to Tara.
She wanted to open the door, and she wanted to just slip back down the stairs to save Tara - and herself, truth be known - from any possible embarrassment. The two thoughts warred in her brain, and she stood stock still, unable to come up with a course of action.
Would Tara be embarrassed? The few times the subject had come up, there had definitely been blushing and stammering involved - from both of them - but wasn’t this ‘doing’ different than talking? But even if she did go in, how cheesy porno would that whole scenario really be? What would she say?
‘Hi - I’m the new pool boy’ … ?
Tara groaned, and Willow bit her lip to hold back a whimper in response, her fingers flexing on the doorknob. Everything she wanted and needed in her life was just behind that door, but her indecision kept her from moving as her arousal mounted. Leaving was no longer an option. Even if she couldn’t work up the gumption to go on in, a rampaging Fyarl demon with a sledgehammer couldn’t move her away from this door. So she’d just stay right where she was, torturing herself as she imagined exactly what Tara was doing in there, torn between going after what she needed and her fear of making Tara uncomfortable. Then again, it was entirely possible that a Willow-shaped interruption was exactly what Tara wanted.
Willow’s right hand pawed at the door soundlessly, her heart hammering in her chest as she listened to her girlfriend touch herself. Somehow, the uncertainty of what she should do heightened her arousal, her body responding to the sounds Tara was making alone, without the need of visual or physical stimulation. She could feel her nipples hardening against the fabric of her bra, and found that she was hyper-aware of the cool feeling of the doorknob under her hand and the smooth irrevocable barrier of the door. Her sense of touch was heightened, merely by not being touched. There was something inherently wrong with this scenario, though whether that wrongness stemmed from her being on one side of the door while Tara was on the other, or just how excited she was getting listening to Tara while Tara was unaware of her presence, she couldn’t say.
A low moan carried easily through the door and Willow’s breath quickened. She knew that sound - was intimately familiar with that sound, and knew that Tara had to have slipped her hand between her legs, stroking herself slowly the way she liked it. Willow could almost feel the warmth and wetness on her fingers - could almost taste the salty sweetness on her lips and tongue. Were Tara’s legs parted just enough to give herself access, or were they splayed open, eagerly awaiting that touch? And just how perve-y was she to be thinking that? Willow couldn’t stop the little squeaking noise she made as she bit back a moan.
The rustling of sheets greeted her ears, and she knew Tara was moving on the bed. Tantalizing images flowed through her mind, of Tara languidly moving against the sheets, rocking her hips against her hand. A hundred different variations on that theme crowded into her brain, and she barely remembered herself in time to stop herself from banging her head against the door in sheer grossly-self-inflicted frustration.
Willow fell forward a half-step when the door swung open, revealing a flushed and rumpled Tara wearing just a robe and a startled expression.
“Willow,” Tara said, her face heating with what Willow could only assume was embarrassment. Willow cursed herself internally for making enough noise that Tara had stopped and gotten up to investigate. “You’re, umm … you’re home early,” she said, unable to verbalize a thought except for the obvious. “I w-was just, umm … I was … uhh …” Tara said, trailing off.
Don’t ask her if she needs a hand, Willow silently ordered herself. Don’t ask her if she needs a hand. Don’t ask her if she needs a hand.
“I’m the new pool boy,” Willow blurted out, the first thing to enter her mind that wasn’t ‘do you need a hand?’ A blush to match Tara’s creeping over her face, Willow closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.
“Huh?” Tara asked, before the reference sunk in and she started blushing even harder. She was frustrated on several levels - frustrated with both her sudden reversion to a blushing stuttering bundle of self-consciousness at having been more or less caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar and with the fact she was had been so close to self-gratification when she had heard a squeaking noise and gotten up to investigate, afraid that Buffy or Dawn had come home. “Oh,” she said lamely, wondering where all the self-confidence and strength she had painstakingly gathered during the past few years had run off to, and wondering how fast she could follow it to escape the impending mortification.
“You know, it’s funny,” Willow said softly, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her with a resounding ‘click’. Not bothering to turn and look, her eyes staying fixed on the sexily rumpled half-naked girl in her room - never let it be said Willow Rosenberg didn’t have her priorities in order - she turned the lock.
“Uh, w-what’s funny?” Tara asked gamely, backing up a step and holding her robe closed with one hand, even as she wondered where this sudden shyness was coming from. Maybe it was the predatory look in Willow’s eye as she raked her with a glance, like Willow was a wolf who had just spotted a tasty rabbit. Or, oh yeah, maybe it was the part where she had been touching herself and been on the verge of coming when she realized she wasn’t quite as alone as she had thought.
“That we’re embarrassed,” Willow said with a little shrug as she stepped closer, grasping Tara’s waist with both hands when it looked like she was going to take another step back. “I mean, it’s perfectly natural,” she said, her hands slipping up to grasp Tara’s and pulling them gently from her robe. She slowly pulled the fabric apart, looking down at Tara’s body and taking a deep shuddering breath before stepping closer and nuzzling her neck, breathing in her scent. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she wondered idly if it was humanly possible to pass out from being turned on. “I haven’t been very available lately,” she murmured, placing a soft kiss on the juncture between Tara’s neck and her shoulder, smiling when Tara shivered. “And we have … needs,” she said, punctuating the words with another kiss, her hands going to the bare skin at Tara’s waist.
“Uh, right,” Tara said, her eyes closed and her head tilted to one side, her hands reaching up to grasp Willow’s shoulders.
“And you were enjoying yourself … I certainly don’t begrudge you that,” Willow went on, her lips trailing across Tara’s skin as she spoke, her breath playing against her neck and her jaw, working towards her ear. “And I was absolutely enjoying myself,” she whispered, kissing Tara’s ear lightly. “Listening to you, imagining what you were doing …” she said, her voice trailing off suggestively as one hand reached around to the small of Tara’s back, pulling her closer as the other trailed up her side to rest against Tara’s breast.
“Oh, God,” Tara said, her hands lifting to entangle themselves in Willow’s hair and pushing closer, sighing softly at the feel of Willow, and the way her nipples were rubbing against the fabric of Willow’s shirt. The image formed in her mind without her bidding, of Willow standing at the door, hearing every moan and sigh as she touched herself. The vision pushed her self-consciousness away, bringing back her confidence and the sharp ache of unfulfilled desire.
“Hearing you got me so hot,” Willow said, angling her head around to capture Tara’s lips with her own, that first electric contact shooting through her, making her painfully aware that she had too many clothes on.
As if hearing her thoughts, Tara’s hands reached down and tugged her shirt out of the waistband of her pants as she kicked off her shoes, their mouths never ceasing contact. Willow gasped as Tara pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, Tara’s hands reaching up under her shirt and pushing her bra up and out of the way to cup her breasts and stroke her hard nipples with her thumbs.
“God, yes,” Willow managed to say without her lower lip as Tara kept it, sucking on it lightly and brushing her nipples over and over. With a soft groan, she pulled back, throwing her shirt off and tossing it across the room, her hair sticking up in strange places.
Sensing an opportunity, Tara ducked her head down, licking Willow’s right nipple as she rolled the other between her forefinger and thumb, tugging gently. Willow reached back, trying several times with fumbling fingers to unfasten her bra, the position of her arms arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward. Tara smiled as she took the eager little nipple entirely into her mouth, sucking on it and stroking it with her tongue, her hands moving up behind Willow to her back and pressing, holding her to her mouth.
Willow finally tossed the bra across the room, one arm immediately wrapping around Tara’s shoulders and her other hand cupping the back of Tara’s head and holding her in place, the feel of Tara’s tongue - the warmth of her mouth surrounding her nipple - setting her nerve endings on fire.
Awkwardly, Tara tugged Willow forward as she moved backwards, until she could sit on the edge of the bed, pulling Willow to her until she was standing between her knees. Tara released the nipple in her mouth, and when that earned her a protesting whimper, gave it one last languorous stroke of her tongue before moving to the other. Tara sucked - hard - her hands trailing up and down Willow’s ribs as Willow’s hands gripped her shoulders convulsively, then moved to push at her robe, the material pooling at Tara’s back and elbows.
Regretfully, Tara removed her hands from Willow’s body so she could get the robe off as Willow’s hands grasped her shoulders and started to push her down onto the bed.
“Oh, no,” Tara said softly, smiling at her lover and pushing back upright. “There’s a very strict ‘no pants’ rule for this bed,” she said, punctuating the pronouncement with a lingering open-mouthed kiss to Willow’s upper belly. The tips of her fingers trailed softly down Willow’s stomach, the light touch tickling slightly, until they bet the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her head, and Willow took the unspoken signal, ducking down to press her lips against Tara’s, their mouths moving slowly against each other, opening and closing as they tasted.
As slowly as she could manage to reign in her eager fingers, Tara traced the waistband of Willow’s jeans, trailing inward towards the zipper. Willow whimpered softly against Tara’s mouth as Tara’s hands drew so close to the throbbing heat between her legs, but she knew from experience that any attempt to hurry Tara when she was in this kind of mood would just make her stop altogether. Tara toyed with the button of Willow’s jeans, her fingers sliding under her waistband, then back out again.
“Don’t tease,” Willow pleaded between kisses, the torturous touches having gone on quite long enough in her opinion. Tara’s response was a slow smile and a lazy sensuous look that made Willow’s breath catch in her throat and her heart skip a beat for one long second before both breathing and heartbeat resumed at double the pace.
“I’m sorry - was I teasing?” Tara asked softly, kissing Willow’s neck as she slowly worked the button of her jeans through the hole. “Is that better?” the thrumming of Willow’s pulse under her lips sending a rush of heat through her body, her nipples getting impossibly harder and the wetness between her legs to grow.
“Tara,” Willow said, the word half-pleading, half-warning. Tara let out a shaky laugh, the mixture of amusement and acute arousal playing havoc with her sense of equilibrium. She didn’t know whether to laugh herself silly over Willow’s frustration and the manner in which they’d ended up in bed, or to ravish and be ravished until she and Willow could not move.
Willow whimpered when Tara started pulling down her zipper with aching slowness, and Tara bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. The heady sense of power and joy, knowing from Willow’s responses just how much she was wanted by this woman never ceased to amaze her, and snuck up on her at odd times, like now, when laughing was absolutely the last thing she should do.
“What’s so funny?” Willow asked with a smile, sensing Tara’s internal struggle with humor. Far from putting a damper on the mood, Willow found the half-smile tugging at the corner of Tara’s mouth and the sparkle in her eyes aroused her further, filling her with a love and wonder that demanded she lean forward and kiss that smiling mouth. Her lips moved softly over Tara’s before Tara could answer, Tara’s hands tugging her jeans and her panties over her hips and dropping them to her ankles.
“Nothin’,” Tara said with a smile as Willow attempted to step out of her clothes. Losing her balance, she fell into Tara, landing on top of her, her weight pressing Tara down into the mattress. Unable to stop herself, Tara burst out laughing, even as her body continued to hum with desire, Willow’s body pressed against hers from chest to knees.
Willow laughed too, ineffectually kicking her legs to remove the offending articles of clothes, getting her feet more and more tangled up. Tara just laughed harder, wrapping her arms around Willow and hugging her close, burying her face in Willow’s neck as her laughter shook her frame.
“Stupid pants,” Willow grumbled, finally kicking the clothes away where they landed in a heap at the foot of the bed. “And you,” she said, turning a mock stern glare on Tara, gazing at her with a baleful eye. She couldn’t keep up the expression in the face of Tara’s mirth, and she finally joined in, resting her weight on her elbows and looking down at Tara as they laughed together, their naked bodies entwined. “I am one smoooooth operator,” Willow said with a self-depracating smile.
“Well,” Tara said, lifting her head slightly and tucking her chin down to look at their bodies pressed together. “I seem to be naked, flat on my back, and in bed - you didn’t do too badly.”
“I didn’t, did I?” Willow murmured, kissing Tara softly. “What were all the giggles about?” she asked curiously after a few long moments of slow sweet smoochies.
“Sorry,” Tara said, the last of the chuckles fading away. “I’m just happy,” she said, a brilliant smile lighting up her features. With a tender hand, she brushed a few stray hairs from Willow’s face, tucking them behind her ear, then letting her fingers trail down her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Willow said, reaching down to grasp Tara’s hand in her own, pulling their joined hands over Tara’s head and twining their fingers together. She leaned down again, kissing her lover with gentle thoroughness, their lips just brushing again and again, before pressing together for firmer contact. Tara sighed softly, her mouth opening, and Willow took her cue, her tongue easing forward to brush against Tara’s, lazily stroking and tasting.
Willow slipped her leg between Tara’s, pressing her thigh up into her, groaning loudly when she felt just how warm and wet Tara was. “Oh, God,” she gasped out as Tara moaned.
“Oh, that feels good,” Tara ground out, lifting her hips to press herself more firmly against Willow’s leg. “Willow, please,” she said softly, so caught up in the sensation of Willow’s thigh pressed right where she needed it, it took her a few moments to lift her own leg and press it to Willow’s center.
“Oh!” Willow said softly, the exclamation a mere exhalation of air followed by a low moan. “I’m sorry, baby,” Willow said, kissing her way down Tara’s neck. “Was I teasing?” she asked playfully, withdrawing her thigh before pushing up again, earning more coveted Tara-sounds.
“I’m the one who was … mmm… interrupted,” Tara said, Willow’s mouth attached firmly to her pulse point, her tongue lapping against her skin in time with her heartbeat as their hips rocked together. “You deserve to be teased.” One hand grasped the nape of Willow’s neck, the other on Willow’s hip as they ground together, their soft sighs and moans filling the room.
“What were you thinking about?” Willow asked, foregoing her attention to Tara’s oh-so-lickable neck to whisper hotly in her ear.
“Mmm … Michelle Pfeifer. Grease 2,” Tara said with a slow grin, letting out a brief squawk when Willow nipped her neck at that answer, their slow rhythm steady and constant as their breathing quickened.
“She must have been pissed when you called her Willow,” Willow said, lifting her head with a wicked chuckle and pressing harder into Tara’s body. She spotted a bead of sweat making its way down Tara’s chest and collected it, slowly, with her tongue.
“Livid,” Tara agreed, putting pressure on her hold on Willow’s neck and pulling her closer, capturing her lips in a slow heated kiss, their temperatures rising as lips and tongues and breasts and stomachs and thighs and warm wetness all rubbed together, sub-vocal sounds urging each other on.
Willow broke away from the kiss with a gasp, taking in a deep gulp of air, wondering how long her sanity would remain intact if they continued this sweet, hot, arousing contact. Half-hanging off the bed, the angle just wasn’t right to come - for either of them - but it felt so good, so hot, she couldn’t seem to break away.
“Really, what were you thinking about?” Willow asked, resting all her weight on one elbow and trailing a hand down Tara’s body, then back up, from shoulder to hip again and again. “What was I doing to you?”
“Oh, God,” Tara moaned, Willow’s words causing embarrassment and arousal in equal measure. Arousal, however, won out, and Tara raised her head to lick lightly at Willow’s earlobe before saying, “It was what you were letting me do to you.”
Willow’s nostrils flared and she practically growled at Tara’s admission, the words spoken into the air sparking an inferno where a slow steady burn had been. She stopped moving, her eyes glazed over as she looked down at Tara. “Up,” she said, listing her weight up so Tara could scoot to the top of the bed. On all fours, she crawled after her, taking in the sight of her prone lover and feeling a startlingly primal satisfaction that this woman was hers, and she was about to have her.
“What,” she asked, pushing Tara’s willing legs open and settling between them, dropping her head without preamble and licking one achingly stiff nipple. “What, precisely, was I letting you do?” she asked, before settling in and sucking gently.
Tara sighed, the soft sound turning into a gasp when Willow started sucking harder. Then Willow stopped and looked up at her expectantly.
“Oh, uh … right,” Tara said, her fingers twining into Willow’s hair, pulling her mouth back towards her breasts. “You were, umm … you were working late,” she started to relate, her eyes drifting shut, the duality of Willow’s body pressed to hers with her hot wet mouth on her breasts and her fantasy of earlier that evening - of being loved and loving - sending her into a sensual haze. “And you were the only one there,” she whispered, her words interrupted by soft moans as Willow went back to her nipple, sucking softly, and cupping the other breast in her hand.
“I showed up to, umm … to surprise you,” Tara said, her eyes drifting shut as Willow gave her breast a slow firm squeeze, the sucking on her nipple getting harder. Her hips shifted and she whimpered when she couldn’t quite make contact with Willow’s body, the ache between her legs increasing with each passing second.
“Then what?” Willow asked, licking her way over to the breast in her hand, circling around and around the nipple with her tongue, teasing it.
“I, umm … you didn’t notice I was there, at first,” Tara said, her back arching as she tried to angle her nipple into Willow’s mouth, who evaded the maneuver, continuing to tease her. “And I, uhh … I walked up behind you and, umm … I … Oh, God,” she ground out, Willow finally pressing the flat of her tongue to her nipple and giving it a long, slow lick. “I, uhhh … I …” she gasped, as another lick ensued. “I, umm … I cupped your breasts and you stopped what you were doing.”
“From behind?” Willow asked, wanting a very clear picture.
“Uh-huh,” Tara said, her hips rising up again in a futile effort to make some contact and find some relief from the build-up of heat and wetness. “I, umm … I said that I was there to take what’s mine,” Tara said, and Willow moaned, seeing the scenario so clearly and knowing exactly what Tara’s sexual assertiveness felt like. “You, uhh … you moaned just like that,” Tara said with a little laugh, her body straining closer to Willow. With a murmur to go on, Willow took Tara’s nipple into her mouth, her jaw working as she sucked on it.
“Oh!” Tara cried out, arching her back and pressing her nipple further into Willow’s mouth. “Then I, umm … I asked if you were ready … if you were ready to be taken,” Tara said, her breath fast and hot as Willow continued working her nipple with her mouth. “You said you were.”
Willow moaned again, releasing the nipple with an audible pop. “Oh, God, Tara …” Willow said on a sigh, kissing her way down the center of Tara’s body.
“Please, Willow,” Tara whimpered out, spreading her legs wide as Willow moved down … down, her mouth getting closer and closer to her aching need.
“Then what happened?” Willow asked, looking up at Tara, her eyes burning green desire as she dipped her head down and pressed a soft kiss to Tara’s inner thigh.#
“I, uhh … I lifted up your skirt,” Tara said, inhaling a sharp breath when Willow’s lips brushed against her.
“I was wearing a skirt?” Willow asked, breathing in the scent of Tara’s arousal, her mouth watering as she looked down at her lover spread open before her. Dipping her head, she gave a long, slow lick, from bottom to top, gathering up the welcoming wetness on her tongue.
“Oh, God yes,” Tara moaned, that brief touch so soothing and arousing at the same time, she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. “God, more,” she urged, taking a deep breath and preparing to continue her story, knowing Willow would stop if she did. “You were … you were pretty shocked, when I, uhh … when I leaned you over the desk you were working at,” Tara said, her words coming out amidst the sounds of her pleasure as Willow started to lick her in earnest, her tongue making long leisurely strokes.
Willow moaned as she slipped her tongue into Tara, the combination of Tara’s responses, her taste and her words a sensual combination that almost had her reaching down to take care of the throbbing ache between her legs - but she knew if she waited … if she could just hold on, Tara would take care of it for her, and that sweet torture was just what she wanted.
“I, uhh … God … I slipped my fingers into your panties,” Tara said, her hips rocking against Willow’s tongue as it slid in and out of her with maddening slowness. “God, you were so wet … and so ready for me,” Tara panted. Her hips jerked clear off the bed when Willow moved her tongue out and up, flicking it across her clit.
“God, I >am< wet and ready,” Willow rasped out before pressing her mouth to Tara and flicking her clit with her tongue over and over again.
“Oh … oh,” Tara moaned. “God, then I … I … ohhhh … I, umm … I started fucking you,” Tara said, too far gone to censor herself. “With, uhh … two fingers,” Tara managed to say between heaving gulps of air.
“Like this?” Willow asked, pressing two fingers inside of Tara and starting to pump them in and out slowly, before rubbing the flat of her tongue against Tara’s clit in long hard strokes.
“Oh, God - harder …” Tara instructed, her voice sounding like her body felt - like it was going to break apart at the seams. “Harder …”
Willow complied, so turned on her own hips jerked against the mattress as she used her fingers and her tongue faster and harder until Tara’s cries of released echoed through the room, her body contracting against her fingers and a flood of wetness coating her hand and her chin. Willow lapped it up, stilling her fingers for a moment before starting again, reveling in the feel of Tara’s body and wanting - needing - to feel her come again.
“Oh … oh, Willow, God, I … uh,” Tara said, as Willow brought her up again, hard and fast, before sending her over, making her come so hard her breathing stopped and colors swam before her tightly closed eyes.
“Oh, shit,” Tara managed to say, her breathing still ragged. “Oh … oh … wow.”
She didn’t have time to recover or calm her breathing before Willow practically pounced on her, taking her mouth in a hard, hungry, and desperate kiss. Tara tasted herself on Willow’s lips as Willow straddled her leg and started to grind against her.
“Oh, Tara,” Willow said on a shuddering breath. “I need … oh, God, I need,” she said, her words trailing off with a groan.
“Willow, stop,” Tara said softly, pulling Willow to her and slowing her movements.
“Wha … ?” Willow said, blinking stupidly, but stopping as requested. “God, Tara - please,” she said, resting her forehead against her love’s and whimpering when Tara shifted under her, her leg brushing against her center.
“Lie down,” Tara instructed softly, kissing Willow gently.
“I am lying down,” Willow insisted stubbornly, pressing her hips - once - against Tara’s leg to illustrate her point.
“On the bed, not on me,” Tara said softly, pressing soft soothing kisses to the skin of Willow’s neck.
“I like lying down on you,” Willow grumbled before rolling off of Tara and lying down on the bed as instructed. “Baby,” she said, reaching out to pull Tara to her.
But Tara pulled back and looked at Willow with heavy-lidded eyes … a look Willow knew well. A look that only existed when they were alone together, and Tara had something naughty but extremely gratifying in mind.
“Lie down on your stomach,” Tara said, rolling onto her side and scooting back to give Willow room to turn towards her.
“On … umm … on my stomach?” Willow asked uncertainly, even as she complied, lying down and resting her head on her folded arms. “Um … like this?” she asked.
“Almost,” Tara said, kissing Willow’s shoulder softly, and moving so she was half-lying on top of her. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” Tara said, and Willow let out a squeak as she did as she was told, trying to cover up the undignified sound with a cough. “You made me tell you what I was thinking about,” Tara said, offering an unasked-for explanation. “Now I’m going to show you … now pull your knee up, like this,” Tara instructed, using her own leg to push Willow’s into the position she was looking for.
Willow bit back a moan as she realized just what was spread open and how easy Tara could reach it from here. Tara leaned over Willow, stroking one hand up and down her back, then moving her hair aside to press soft open-mouthed kisses to the nape of Willow’s neck. Willow sighed, her hips lifted, pressing her ass into Tara.
“Tara?” Willow asked, the word a question as Tara’s hand slid down her body to cup her hip.
“This okay, sweetie?” Tara asked softly, leaning into Willow and pushing her breasts into her back.
“Oh, yeah,” Willow breathed, the sensation of Tara on top of her, her breasts pressed against her, very okay indeed. “I just … please, Tara,” she said, her voice cracking with need as she lifted her hips again, pushing into her.
“I’m here, baby,” Tara said softly, the hand on Willow’s hip moving down and over her ass, then between her legs, to the source of her arousal. “Oh, Willow,” Tara said on a sigh, a smile crossing her face. “You’re … you are so very wet,” she breathed out, pressing her lips to Willow’s shoulder and leaving them there as she slid her fingers forward to brush against Willow’s clit.
Willow’s hips jerked instinctively as she moaned, seeking to press herself harder against the fingers there. She felt Tara smile against her shoulder, and felt another kiss, as Tara started stroking her clit in a slow circular motion, keeping her pressure light and defying any efforts on Willow’s part to obtain firmer contact.
“Is that what you want?” Tara asked, punctuating the question with a light nip at Willow’s shoulder, grasping the soft smooth skin there with her teeth and giving it a lick before releasing it.
“I’m, umm … I’m thinking …” Willow said, licking her lips and trying to catch her breath to form her request, the slow teasing touch of Tara’s fingers against her clit stealing her ability to verbalize thoughts. “This should be the part with the … oh, God … with the fucking,” Willow said, trying to get more pressure anywhere, her body aching for Tara to fill it up and make her come.
“Oh, God,” Tara whispered, bringing her fingers up and sliding two of them inside of Willow, hard, leaving them where there were, just pressing in as far as they could go.
“Oh, oh …” Willow gasped out, her sweat-slick body pushing back and against Tara’s hand, the feel of her fingers filling her up exactly what she needed. “Don’t stop … Tara, please,” she begged, groaning loudly when Tara complied, moving her fingers in and out of her body in a slow and steady motion.
“Willow, god - that’s … you feel so good,” Tara said, pressing her face into the back of Willow’s neck and breathing deeply, the feel of Willow’s body moving beneath her, and the warm wetness surrounding her fingers startlingly arousing considering Willow had taken such good care of her just a short time before.
“Oh, Tara, that’s … ohhh, that’s just right,” Willow gasped out as Tara sped up her pace a little. Tara continued, getting up onto her knees and leaning over, sliding her tongue down Willow’s spine, stopping at the small of her back.
Willow made a whimper of protest when Tara’s fingers stilled, but moaned when Tara positioned herself so she could work her left hand underneath Willow’s body and get her fingers on her clit. Putting her wait on that arm, Tara slipped her fingers into Willow again, her fingers brushing against her clit over and over.
“Oh, Tara … I’m … I’m gonna’ …” Willow said, her breath coming in panting gasps as Tara moved inside of her, harder and faster, the fingers on her clit pressing more firmly against her. She rocked her hips, straining close to each set of fingers in its turn, pressing her face into the mattress and groaning loudly.
“That’s it, baby,” Tara said, working her fingers faster. “That’s it.” Willow’s stilled for a moment, then bucked violently once, then a second time, and then she was coming, Tara’s fingers working in and out of her perpetuating her orgasm as she pulsed around those fingers.
Tara bit her lip as Willow came, a quiet moan escaping her throat. She’d never tire of the feel of being inside of Willow when she was coming, the way she pulsed and moved, and the flood of wetness that followed. She slowed her movements, bringing Willow back down slowly, finally stilling when the last of the shudders shook her frame.
“I … gah,” Willow said, before clearing her throat. “Oh, wow.”
“You okay, sweetie?” Tara asked, moving back up and cuddling against Willow’s back, trailing her fingers along Willow’s upper arm and kissing her shoulders lightly.
“Mmm-Hmm,” Willow said, trying valiantly to find some words to describe just how more-than-okay she really was.
“I mean, that wasn’t …” Tara asked, trailing off.
“Dear Hustler,” Willow said on a dreamy sigh, a soft smile on her face as she cuddled backwards into Tara. “I never thought it would happen to me. I showed up for my new job as a pool boy ..."