Hi Kittens and a happy holiday to those in the US and elsewhere who are celebrating today!
My contribution to this last official day of summer is - Voila! - a Willow/Tara picnic.
Rating - Okay this is a hard one to figure out, but I'll say PG-13 for the actuality and NC-17 for intent. Please let me know if you think that is correct.
Health
Watch (not Warning) in effect.... Those Kittens particularly susceptible to smutty stuff might want to have emergency gear nearby.
Setting - Thursday afternoon, before Superstar, and picking up immediately after the first part, Chapter 5a, with what Willow meant....
Have fun!
*****
“I mean, she’s already always hanging around. What if what we just did only encouraged her, you know, to follow us around even more?” Willow asked as she turned towards her.
Tara watched the tall woman leave the quad with a somewhat sympathetic twinge. She knew all about not fitting in; she’d orbited Megan and her friends for the months during and after their “thing” – tolerated, but not really part of the group even when she and Megan were an item.
“It’s okay, s-sweetie.” She set the plates out and started pulling containers out of the various paper and plastic bags as she thought over what had just happened. She and Willow had opened two doors for her neighbor today. One was deadly dangerous, but probably less so than simply stumbling about unaware of what Sunnydale was. The other … well, Tara didn’t really know if Jo would find her smoochies, but at least the other woman was aware of another option now. More aware, anyway, she noted with a small inward smile.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not really keen on us being followed around, but there’s the whole Scooby thing too. What if she tags along one night when I’m patrolling? Besides the whole angry Buffy issue, there’s the whole safety thing,” Willow continued with a frown.
“I don’t think that she w-will. I think, um, she’s more c-curious about the girl-on-girl action.” Tara brushed her hand over her lover’s thigh as she reached for the package of chicken – just a little “planned” incidental contact in a public place – and was rewarded with a small gasp. She spared her lover a small glance. Willow. Sweet Willow, all big-eyed – watching her, with mixed desire and anxiety. She popped the lids on the small plastic tubs, fished around in her pants pocket and set her knife beside the plates. There.
Now if her sweetie would just cooperate.
“So, what did you get?” Willow changed the subject to what she thought was a safer topic.
Tara smiled. “Finger food.” She tore off a piece of pita and scooped up some hummus. She lifted it to her girlfriend’s lips. “Here – have a bite.”
“Tara.” Willow’s eyes darted from her hand to her face.
“No one’s watching, or at least not all the time. And we won’t do this for every b-bite. Just occasionally.” She jiggled the food a little in encouragement, feeling the sauce on her fingers. “It’s kind of drippy. You might have to l-lick my fingers.”
Slowly, as if hypnotized, Willow leaned forward and opened her mouth.
Tara fed her lover the first bite, her own lips parting as Willow’s lips and teeth closed over the small morsel, gently grazing her fingertips as they did so. Her lover chewed, swallowed, and then licked her fingers clean. She could feel her skin heat and her nipples harden. Thank the gods they were sitting in the shade!
“We are going back to your room after this, right?” Willow asked, her voice hoarse with desire.
“Uh-huh.” Tara fumbled with the foil on the chicken breasts. “That’s the plan.”
“Here, let me help.” Willow’s hands joined hers, more of an impediment than a help actually – not that she was going to object. She loved touching Willow-hands. “Plan, huh? So all that stuff this morning about getting up, walking around, listening to the birds sing – that was all a ruse just to get me lick your fingers in public?”
“No, that’s only part of the p-plan.” Tara set a chicken breast on each place. She lifted her face, knew that Willow’s face was lifting too. She gazed deep into her love’s eyes. “I want to l-lick your fingers too.”
Willow just stared at her, owl-eyed.
“Don’t you want me to l-lick your fingers?” Tara asked, her lips quirking upwards.
Her lover took a deep breath. “Oh, yes,” Willow replied, nodding repeatedly for emphasis.
“Vixen,” Tara chuckled.
“Wait a minute! You set me up and I’m the vixen?” Willow objected.
“Uh-huh.” She opened her knife and began to carve strips from each piece of chicken.
“Just you wait, Ms. Maclay, until we get back to your room.”
“Promises now, sweetie?” Tara egged her lover on.
“I am so going to tickle you,” Willow threatened.
She looked up and angled the tip of her knife at the nearest chicken breast. “You should have been there with me and Jo when I bought these … breasts.”
“Jo …” Willow’s voice had a strangled sound to it, her gaze flicking rapidly between the chicken and her face. “That … woman … knows I like ….”
Shaking her head, her hair swaying from side to side, she said, “Um, I know how much you like breasts.” Tara was grinning outright now. “J-Jo was just there when I bought them.” She didn’t mention that Jo “had” noticed the purchase. “It seemed appropriate to feed you b-breasts for lunch. Besides, I like w-watching you .…”
Willow stared at her, entranced. “Watching me what, Tara Maclay?”
She smiled and offered Willow a piece of chicken from her fingers. “I like seeing your l-lips part, and the way they look p-pressed against my skin, and seeing your t-tongue flicking in and out, tasting ….”
Her lover swallowed the piece of chicken and whispered hoarsely, “And what does it feel like?”
Tara took a bite of chicken herself while she tried to come up with words to describe the sensation. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and said, “Like – like s-silk – Willow-tongue is like silk, soft and gentle, gliding over my skin.”
“Do we have to have this picnic?” Willow asked, shifting her position.
“Why?” she teased. “Is something wrong?”
Willow fidgeted again. “Oh no. Nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing. I’m just wanting you so badly that I can’t see straight.”
“Ummm, sweetie …” She touched the back of her lover’s hand. “I don’t want you to see straight.”
“Right. Not straight. Got it.” Willow suddenly laughed.
“Wh-What?” Tara asked with a confused smile.
“Just thinking how glad I am that I’m wearing black jeans.”
“And m-may I say that you look w-wonderful.” Tara felt a silly grin cover her face. “I like you in black, with your beautiful red hair.” Hair that she wanted to run her hands through so badly. She finished softly, “but then I especially like you in n-nothing at all.”
“Blue.” Looking deeply into her eyes, Willow said just the one word.
She lifted her eyebrows and cocked her head questioningly.
“You. In blue.” Her lover sighed. “Or nothing. I like you in nothing a lot.” She shifted again. “Pesky puddle.”
“Ahhh, puddles.” Tara nodded her head. “Good thing we can both swim.”
Willow seemed suddenly energized and tore off a piece of bread, dipped it, and offered it to her. “Picnic. Eat.”
She laughed at her love’s sudden eagerness, and took the proffered bite, licking the Willow-fingers thoroughly. “Mmmmm, babaghanoush and Willow. Yum.”
“Baba-what?”
“Babaghanoush. Spiced eggplant and tahini and stuff,” Tara explained. She tore more of the bread into bite-sized pieces, then reached past Willow, not touching this time, and snagged the bag of fruit. Tangerines. She broke the skin on one and peeled it. Juicy ones, good. She licked her fingers. She held a segment out for Willow.
Willow was back to staring at her and asked plaintively,
“More food? No hurry?”
“Nope. No hurry. Just you and me and good food to eat in the sunshine.” She glanced up at the tree branches overhead as Willow took the proffered fruit. “Okay, in the shade, but outside in the fresh air. And I have chocolate to feed you, too.”
“Y’do?” Willow mumbled through tangerine, quickly surveying the blanket for it. She swallowed hastily. “Can’t you feed it to me back in your room?”
“You’re willing to wait that long?” she asked, munching on a stuffed grape leaf.
“Chocolate. And you. I can wait.” Willow nodded her head. “A while, not long, but a little while – I can do that. Maybe half an hour?” Her lover bounced a little bit in anticipation.
Tara giggled.
“What kind is it?” Her lover rifled through the bags, finding nothing. She looked up, pouting. “And where is it?”
She smirked. “It’s s-safe, sweetie.” And it was – she could feel the rectangular outlines of the bar pressing into the back of her right thigh. Of course, it was a bit less bar-shaped than it had been when she’d first slipped it beneath her leg. Body heat would do that to chocolate, but that was all part of her plan.
Willow’s eyes went round and darted automatically to her breasts.
Tara laughed out loud. “Not there! That’s not a s-safe place with you, is it?” She’d considered it briefly, but the logistics of getting a bar of chocolate into her bra in public with her modesty intact had defeated her. Plus she didn’t think it would be sufficiently hidden – or comfortable. “It’s Ghirardelli Chocolate Raspberry.”
“Ooooh, yum.” Willow’s eyes were still roaming over her body, trying to figure out where it was hidden.
“G-Good, I wasn’t certain you’d like it with raspberries.”
“The only bad chocolate is no chocolate. Raspberries are good with chocolate.” Willow nodded her head and dipped a piece of chicken in the hummus. “Here. Eat.”
Tara lipped the chicken from her lover’s fingers, chewed, swallowed, and said softly, “Sweetie, I am n-not going to hurry. Not because I don’t w-want you – I do, d-desperately, and I know you want me, too – but isn’t this fun?”
Willow’s eyes closed briefly, her forehead furrowing, then sighed in resignation. “Yes, it is.” The green eyes opened and gazed hungrily at her face. “But I ache for you. It feels like I have a flock of birds flying around in my belly and their feathers tickle. My nipples are so hard they almost hurt. And I have a nearly irresistible urge to push you back on the blanket and ravish you. Right here.” She gestured at their surroundings.
“Oh.” Tara considered her lover and wondered if it was nice to tease her to such a degree.
“But, I can’t. I can do this though.” Willow reached out and ensnared her hand. “But I’m not as good with my left, so I might dump food on you.”
She entwined her fingers with Willow’s and gave it a squeeze. “If you do, then when we get back to the room, you can l-lick it off.”
Her lover gave her hand an answering squeeze and with a wicked grin asked, “Promise?”
Tara nodded. “Promise.”
******
Boom, boom, boom. Her heart was beating like a drum, and she was breathless and lightheaded too. Giddy. She was giddy.
And all because of the woman seated cross-legged on the blanket beside her. Who was completely calm, utterly serene. Or at least that was how Tara seemed, but her lover’s thumb traced a pattern over and over on the back of her hand. The smallest of fidgets, or perhaps it was a hidden caress. Willow didn’t know.
She did know that she had never felt like this before and not been ill with a fever.
Tara was just so beautiful. The way the sun filtered through the leaves and picked up the lighter strands of blonde in her hair, the way it made her porcelain skin glow. Her girlfriend was always beautiful, but here, outdoors, she shone.
Willow felt safe in the warm darkness of Tara’s room. Being there with Tara was like coming back to her dream-home, the home she’d never really had, but had always wanted. But being here, on a blanket outside with Tara, she also felt secure – almost confident – and she rarely felt that way unless it had something to do with computers.
Maybe Tara was right. Maybe it was good for them to be out here, in public.
She envied Tara her serene confidence. She smiled inwardly. Looking at them, few people would realize that shy Tara was the more confident one. Tara the Brave had come out looking for her on a night of unspeakable horror when she had been researching – well, hiding was the correct word, really – she’d been hiding in her room while Buffy tried to fix things. Because she, cowardly Willow, had made an offhand comment in front of a bunch of wanna-blessed-bes, Tara had placed herself in danger. All because she had thought they might be able to do something to stop the evil.
And they’d found out that together they were powerful. But something that Willow had craved all her life – power – had been overshadowed by the other thing she had found that night. A thing about herself that she had scarcely even acknowledged had screamed that night: “this one, this one, this one”, so insistently that it had been nearly impossible to release Tara’s hand. It had made sleep impossible, had made being apart from the other woman agony, and had pushed her forward so that she had actually made the first move. She’d kissed her – just a little kiss, an almost nothing kiss, but still – she’d kissed a girl.
Then the remnants of her control had been quietly, efficiently stripped away from her by this shy, beautiful woman – this woman whom she unhesitatingly trusted with her life.
Tara the Unstoppable knew what she wanted and would work to get it. Willow felt that she’d wash right over any obstacle placed in her way. Or she’d erode the resistance quietly like water on stone – like she was doing with this infuriatingly delightful picnic.
It was as inevitable as the tide. She might as well relax and enjoy it, ‘cause she didn’t want to stop it.
“Wh-What’s with the little smile?” Tara inquired softly.
Willow thought she could swim in those blue eyes. “Just thinking about you.”
“Oh.” Her lover paused and then asked impishly, “G-Good thoughts?”
“The best,” Willow assured her.
“Can, um, … do you w-want to share these th-thoughts?” Tara wondered aloud.
“Uh, if I can.” She tried to find words to articulate what were mostly feelings, words that wouldn’t be too sappy. “I was thinking that you are irresistible.”
“R-Really?” Tara’s eyebrows went up and her mouth quirked. “You’ve been silent for about five m-minutes just looking at me and you only come up with one w-word? You’re s-sure that’s all?”
“Hey, irresistible – it’s a good word. There was other stuff too, but I … well, it all just really boils down to that one word. And you are, you know – totally irresistible,” Willow proclaimed. “I love the way you look, and move, and smell. I can barely keep my hands off of you, and ….”
Tara leaned close – deliberately, Willow was certain. “I th-think you are the most irresistible person in the world, Willow Rosenberg, and if you would let me I w-would kiss you right now.”
For several long moments, she was close enough for them to kiss. Close enough that Willow could smell her skin and hair, and she was certain that Tara was close enough to hear her heart hammering.
“That’s cheating,” Willow breathed.
“Uh-huh.”
Slowly Tara withdrew the necessary inches for comfort. Willow somehow suppressed the soft whimper of need and longing, feeling it lodge in her throat.
“Apparently not t-totally irresistible, sweetie,” she teased gently, squeezing her hand. “You m-managed to r-resist.” Willow thought she detected a note of disappointment in her voice, but there was no trace of it as Tara blithely switched topics. “You’ve barely eaten. Aren’t you hungry, love?”
Willow closed her eyes, somehow suppressing her first thought which was “not for food”. Why had she resisted being fed anyway? What did it matter to her what a bunch of strangers saw – assuming any of them were watching in the first place? In the end they - the two of them - were the only ones that mattered. Her decision made, she opened her eyes, smiled at her lover and said in what she hoped was a cajoling tone, “Feed me?”
“You’re s-sure?” Tara’s eyes swept the quad. Smiling, she lifted one eyebrow.
“I’m sure. Besides, I’ve decided ‘resistance is futile’,” she answered with a grin.
“I d-don’t want to p-push …” Tara ducked her head.
“You’re not. I want this,” Willow asserted quietly. “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
Tara looked up and Willow lost herself in her lover’s eyes.
“S-Slow. We’ll still go slow.”
And Willow simply smiled.
I enjoy your conflicting emotions you're throwing about, especially with Willow and her growing feelings for Tara. Can't wait for more 
by spazz07 » Mon Sep 02, 2002 1:51 am 
+ 
) and to rectify something : the French for "little death" is "la petite mort" (it's a feminine word 
That was very lovely. Thank you. 
I'm shocked.