Return to Smut Bunnies Chapter Two

Smut Bunnies

Author: Chris Cook
Rating: NC-17
Copyright: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and all manner of things including the James Bond series by Ian Fleming/Eon Productions, and The Avengers by Brian Clemens. All original material (I'm sure there's some in there somewhere) is copyright 2005 Chris Cook.

London, England
S.M.U.T Headquarters, Foyer
2225 Hours

"So, um," Willow began, breaking the nervous silence between the two agents as they left the building's lift and headed for the main doors. She looked hopeful for a moment, then realised she hadn't actually thought of anything to say.

"Yeah," Tara said, also searching for a conversation-starter. "Oh! Um, did you... you know, have anything in mind, for your code-name?"

"Yeah I should think of something," Willow agreed, "I'll have to have it by tomorrow anyway, to log in when we start the mission. Only I can't really... I'm kind of on the spot, it's difficult to think of something."

"I know what you mean," Tara smiled, "mine was actually my mentor's idea... Shy Bunny, cause, well, compared to most of the Bunnies I'm pretty shy."

"Are you?" Willow asked, frowning in concern. "Oh, not that there's anything wrong with that, no, just, how come? I mean, about what?" Tara opened her mouth to answer. "Not that I'm demanding embarrassing intimate details," Willow quickly added, "if there were any. I mean, feel free not to tell me. Or to tell me that there isn't really anything to tell me, or not to, in any case. Or not to tell me that. If you want." She paused to draw breath, and looked at Tara's slanting grin and glittering eyes.

"You're thinking 'Babble Bunny,'" she said, "aren't you?"

"Actually," Tara replied, "I was kind of thinking 'Adorabunny'. You know, 'cause of adorable... with a bunny."

"Adorabunny," Willow grinned, nodding, "I... you think so?"

"Definitely," Tara said, forcing her face into a serious expression, even if she couldn't keep the twinkle from her eyes, "Adorabunny. It's you."

"I like it," Willow smiled.

"Me too," Tara said, a smile that had nothing to do with humour touching her lips. They stood together at the building's main doors for a moment, neither moving, their gazes fixed on each other.

"So," Tara said eventually, "I guess, we should go?"

"Hmm? Yeah," Willow nodded. "Oh, um, feel free to say no, of course, but do you want me to pick you up tomorrow? For the airport, I mean... no sense in both of us driving. If you'd like?" she finished nervously, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet in agitation.

"I'd like," Tara said. She pulled a card from her jacket's pocket and handed it to Willow. "Our flight's at midday, so, be there at ten?"

"I will!" Willow promised. "See you then."

"See you then, Agent Adorabunny," Tara smiled, giving Willow's hand a little squeeze as she took the card.

"Okay," Willow replied, "see you. Sweet dreams."

Willow Rosenberg's Bedroom
0530 Hours

Willow lay on her bed, beneath silk sheets and surrounded by pillows and cushions and various toy kittens, deep in sleep. Outside the sun was still a little way from rising, barely a hint of dawn's glow coming through the curtains. Willow moved sluggishly, dreaming, a faint smile on her face beneath the hair that spilled across it.

Willow Rosenberg's Dream
0531 Hours

Willow looked around the S.M.U.T. gym, surprised to find it empty during the daytime. All the exercise machines were there, but the usual assortment of just-keeping-fit office workers and strenuously-working-out agents was absent.

"Are you ready for a workout, Agent Adorabunny?" Tara's voice dripped into her ear like warm liquid silk.

Willow turned to see Tara in her pale blue leotard - but slightly different, with the neckline cut down to here, showing a frankly devastating cleavage, and the waist arching up to there, showing off legs and hips that Willow wanted to kneel down and live between.

"Yes ma'am," she replied breathlessly. Tara stood back and, without a hint of hesitation, looked slowly down Willow's body to her feet, and back up again, missing nothing.

"That won't do," she said, giving Willow a sultry stare.

"Um, sorry...? What?" Willow stammered.

"These," Tara said, reaching out to catch the edge of Willow's top, "clothes. They'll only get in the way." Willow looked reflexively down at herself - she was clad in her usual workout gear, a loose crop top over a sports bra, lycra hotpants that covered her from her waist to the middle of her thighs, and her lucky trainers.

"Y-you want me to...?" she asked, tentative of questioning the utterly commanding woman standing in front of her.

"Strip," Tara ordered, her steady gaze allowing no leeway.

With trembling hands Willow pulled her top over her head and let it fall beside her. She glanced at Tara, seeing her gaze still steady, her chin lifted proudly. She knelt down, quickly undoing the laces on her trailers, pulling them and her socks off in one go. Burning with embarrassment - and, she had to admit, arousal - she forced herself not to waste any time. She slipped her fingers beneath the edge of her bra, closed her eyes, and pulled it quickly up over her head, tossing it aside. Biting her lip with nervousness, she met Tara's gaze, fighting to keep her hands from moving away from where they had ended up at her side. They wanted to cover her chest, but she knew Tara wanted otherwise.

"All the way," Tara said, drawing the three syllables out into a sensuous purr.

Willow looked down, steeling herself, and grabbed the waist of her hotpants. The tight material rolled as she pulled, revealing her hips, her buttocks as she bent over, keenly aware of her nakedness. She let the garment slide down her thighs, releasing it to fall from around her knees to the floor, and slowly straightened up. Now nothing was hidden from Tara's view.

The smiling blonde took a step closer, leaning forward until her lips almost touched Willow's ear.

"Good," she whispered. "Stand still."

Tara slowly crouched down, her eyes enslaving Willow's gaze, making her look down at the woman in front of her. Tara let her gaze drop to Willow's left foot, and reached out a finger, placing it delicately on her big toe. Slowly she moved the fingertip, up onto the foot proper, sliding sideways onto her inner ankle, then up, further up. Without realising what she was doing Willow shifted her other foot slightly, parting her legs a fraction.

Tara's fingertip moved higher, her gaze with it, tracing the inside of Willow's calf, her knee, starting up her thigh, higher and higher, Willow held her breath, her eyes closed... at the last second the questing digit moved back onto the front of her thigh, just as it met her hip.

Willow gasped - in relief, or dismay? - and she looked down to see Tara staring shamelessly at her sex, smiling faintly as she studied every detail of Willow's mound, her rusty red pubic hair, her labia, the slight swelling at the top of her cleft where - Willow could feel it - her clit was throbbing to be touched.

"Oh, god," Willow whispered involuntarily, shocked and thrilled at the raw lust coursing through her at being so vulnerable, so exposed, so utterly naked and revealed to this blonde siren. Tara's smile quirked up at the corners, as much as saying 'I knew it,' as Willow's core clenched inside her like a fist, forcing out rivulets of lubrication that coated her nether lips from top to bottom, ran between her legs, down the insides of her thighs. Tara's gaze never wavered as, without a word or a conscious thought, Willow's body surrendered itself to her.

"Mmm," she hummed quietly, her fingertip - all but forgotten on Willow's left thigh - resuming its journey. Up over her hip, inwards towards her navel, skirting around her belly button, up as Tara straightened, gazing intently at Willow's body as she did. Her other fingertips joined the pioneer, and slowly, giving Willow every chance to shy away, while knowing damned well she couldn't if her life depended on it, she cupped Willow's left breast in her palm.

"Ah!" Willow started, a sharp intake of breath as Tara gently kneaded the soft globe, modest in size but immaculate in form. She lifted Willow's breast, then let it settle, squeezed, released, pressed with her palm, pulled back and curled her fingers inwards, digging gently into the pliant flesh. Willow's nipples, already erect, redoubled their efforts, becoming so desperately rigid that Willow felt as if they would shatter at any moment.

Tara let go of her breast, and trailed her hand up onto Willow's shoulder, feeling the slender, toned muscles as she continued down her arm, finally coming to her hand. Tara's and Willow's fingers interwove, as Tara slipped her middle and forefinger between Willow's, smiling knowingly as she mimicked penetration. Her fingers nudged further between Willow's, curling upward, finding and stroking her palm, putting pressure on the exact centre.

"Very good," she said at last, and stepped back, leaving Willow panting, her hand trembling. Tara motioned to the exercise machine behind Willow.

"Time to start your workout," she murmured, "sit down." Willow obediently sat - the machine was one she was used to, a seat, swivelling leg pieces attached to weights, two arm pieces at head height, likewise weighted. Only to Willow's surprise, the action of the weights had been reversed - the arms and legs sat idle in their closed position, and it would take her effort to open her legs, and move her arms to either side of her. Willow's eyes widened as Tara drew thick leather straps from somewhere beneath the arms and legs of the machine - they had never been there before - and securely strapped Willow in, across her biceps and forearms, and her thighs, calves and ankles.

Tara checked each strap thoroughly, making sure Willow was quite restrained, then stood straight and leant towards her, bending at the waist to bring her lips to Willow's ear, and quite incidentally give Willow a front-row view of the world's most fabulous cleavage.

"Very good," she purred, her voice dripping with lust and satisfaction, "you know what to do now, don't you? Don't be shy... time to give that excellent body of yours a thorough workout." She stood straight again, and waited, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

Willow applied her muscles against the weighted limbs of the chair, found them heavy, but not so much that they overcame her desperation to obey her blonde goddess. Her arms swivelled out to either side, causing her back to arch and her chest to jut out, while her legs likewise opened, revealing her centre.

"Keep going," Tara encouraged her, "all the way. There's a good girl."

Willow pushed as far as she could - her arms as far back as her shoulders would allow, her legs spread wide. As a field agent she had had years of exercise and toning, making sure she was as physically capable as she could possibly be, and now she put it all to use. When she felt the slight jarring as the machine's limbs touched the frame, as far as they could open, her breasts stood out proudly, nipples painfully erect, and her legs were splayed as wide as they could go, her widely parted thighs opening her outer labia, revealing her soft, juicy pink inner lips for all the world - and most importantly, Tara - to see.

Willow trembled with the effort of holding her pose, with the burning embarrassment reddening her cheeks, and with the equally-burning desire that sent a slow flood of moisture down her channel. Tara's gaze lowered to her sex; Willow could feel the droplet of arousal she was staring at, beading on the edge of her inner right lip, slowly growing. Tara crouched between her legs, leant her head down - 'Oh god, oh god, oh god,' Willow's mind repeated over and over again, unable to break free of the single thought - and, looking up through long lashes to make sure Willow was watching her, extended her tongue. She leant lower still... Willow felt the sudden change in sensation as the droplet of her nectar grew too large to hold her skin, and fell, then Tara was rising from between her thighs, her tongue curling in between her lips, depositing its prize on her palette.

She returned Willow's gaze without hesitation or shyness, displaying only supreme satisfaction in her domination. Then she took a step back and sat on a bench that had appeared from somewhere behind her, less than a metre from Willow, her eyes moving up and down her restrained, straining body. She slowly lifted one leg up, placing her foot on the seat of the bench and draping one arm around her knee, while her other leg trailed to the floor and her hand moved up and down her thigh, tracing a loop with her fingertips.

"Alright then," she said, with a confident smile, "let's get started."

Willow relaxed slightly, letting her arms and legs succumb to the weight pitted against her muscles. As soon as her forearms were in front of her face, and her thighs closed, she flexed herself again, opening herself back up to Tara's view. Sweat formed on her brow as she fought the cruel weights trying to deny her to Tara's gaze, as again and again she revealed herself.

Tara's hand, on her thigh, moved higher and higher. Willow's view of her became a series of short clips, broken off every second, for a brief instant, by her arms in front of her. Every time she spread herself for Tara she desperately drank in as much of her mistress's form as she could - the slow, sensuous smile on her lips, her nipples visibly erect beneath the thin film of lycra covering her body, her hand creeping ever closer to her centre.

Tara slipped her fingers sidelong in beneath the material covering her crotch, and reached down. Willow's motions became more and more desperate, her whole body heaving, her buttocks leaving the seat with each exertion. The outlines of Tara's fingers beneath the material moved down, Willow could clearly see the two fingertips she had ready. Her body arched off the machine with each thrust. Tara let out a long, shameless moan as her fingers brushed over her clit, her other leg sliding down to the floor, her thighs spreading in a slow imitation of Willow's motions. The weights arrayed against her seeming to count for nothing, Willow lunged her body forward, straining, her body striving as if it was already in Tara's hands. The outline of a third finger joined the first two beneath Tara's lycra. Willow could feel her core clenching with every repetition of the exercise, each time forcing out a bounty of lubrication to add to the glistening sheen on her slick labia, to coat her thighs, to drip and pool on the seat beneath her.

"Hold," Tara said suddenly. Without her mind processing the command Willow's body obeyed, once more splaying herself wide and then remaining motionless, exposed. Tara stood up, hand still at her crotch. She closed her eyes, parted her lips slightly, her expression serene and calm, as if she were about to enjoy a sip of some exotic tea. Willow felt tears of desperation fill her eyes and trickle down her cheeks as she saw the three outlines of fingers disappear, Tara's hand and wrist moving slowly downwards as, without a doubt, those three digits thrust inside her.

"Now that you're warmed up..." Tara murmured joyously, her fingers slowly thrusting and withdrawing. She sauntered forward, her hand never ceasing its sultry pumping motion between her thighs, and climbed up onto the machine Willow was strapped to, balancing with one foot on each of the leg pieces, beside Willow's thighs. Shifting her weight froward, her crotch came within an inch of Willow's face. With her free hand Tara calmly adjusted the machine's settings - lower down Willow gave a little cry of anguished need with every short, gasping breath. So close it was almost difficult for her to focus, hidden only by a thin layer of fabric, Tara's fingers continued to thrust deeply, gently withdraw, thrust again. Soft, liquid sounds escaped her concealed sex as she penetrated herself. Her scent filled Willow's consciousness, permeating her mind, filling her lungs, robbing her of oxygen, but it didn't matter, she breathed in Tara and was vitalised by the heady, deeply physical aroma.

Still calmly masturbating Tara stepped down from her balanced perch, and crouched in front of Willow, face level with her wide open sex. Willow found the force acting against her limbs gone, but in its place the limbs of the chair - and her with it - had been immobilised.

"Did you know," Tara said in an excited, breathy whisper, "climax is a very good form of exercise?"

"Please," Willow gasped.

"It's quite true," Tara went on, as if delivering an informative lecture to a classroom. "Would you like me to set your pace for you? Rhythm is very important when you're exercising."

"Oh please take me!" Willow whispered, desperately, "please take me, please..." Tara grinned, and looked down at her own crotch, where her hand continued its penetrating rhythm.

"Like this?" she asked, looking back up at Willow with a mischievous grin.

"Yes!" Willow pleaded. "Yes, anything, god, take me, do it now, do me now, please, please!" Tara slowly brought her free hand to Willow's soaked centre, inverting it, placing her palm on Willow's mound and letting her fingers reach down, forefinger and middle finger either side of her aching clit.

"Each time I take you into my mouth," she whispered to Willow, "you will come. Shall we start with twenty climaxes?"

"Twenty," Willow gasped breathlessly, awestruck. Tara tilted her head thoughtfully.

"You're right," she said, "let's go for thirty. Are you ready?"


Tara's fingers closed gently, but quite firmly, on Willow's clit, and drew back her hood as far as it could go, fully revealing the swollen, needful bundle of nerves to her breath as she exhaled slowly over Willow's sex. Willow could feel herself on the verge of a truly cataclysmic climax... Tara's lips moved closer, closer... her exposed clit yearned... now hidden from view, and Tara had only to close her mouth to have Willow's most sensitive spot inside, bathed in her warmth...

Beep beep beep beep beep beep!


Willow Rosenberg's Bedroom
0630 Hours (alarm clock time)

Willow jolted upright, her head snapped around towards the tiny plastic clock that had woken her, and in one fluid motion she leant over, scooped it up and hurled it at the far wall, where it shattered impressively.

She remained still for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Her usual stock of mild euphemistic expletives didn't seem quite suitable for the occasion. 'Darn' was definitely an understatement, 'oh shoot' didn't even come close, and even the usually-reliably-satisfying 'frilly heck!' seemed inadequate to the task of voicing Willow's feelings at this particular moment. Willow thought furiously, then exhaled, a calm expression settling over her face as she reached a suitable conclusion.

"Well, fuck."

Tara Maclay's House
0928 Hours

It was a somewhat distracted Willow who arrived at Tara's front door - no matter what she did to alleviate the after-effects of her dream (and she had taken matters into her own hands), the images lingered, persistent.

"Hi," Tara said, opening the door just as Willow was about to press the button for the chime.

It didn't help Willow that her newly-assigned partner was still wearing an elegant silk bedwear ensemble - loose pants, a singlet top and a loose, waist-length robe over the top of it. Tara's attire bore absolutely no resemblance to what dream-Tara had been wearing, but so far as resembling Willow's rapidly redeveloping idea of the perfect woman, she was getting dangerously close to the mark.

"Hi," Willow said, reddening at the thought of Silky Tara overseeing her exercise routines, "um, car?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder awkwardly. Tara glanced at the car parked in front of her house.

"For the airport," Willow elaborated, realising that her speech patterns had hit Neanderthal-level, "I'm here to pick you up. Hence, the car... what?"

"Adorabunny," Tara grinned.

"Babble bunny," Willow retorted, unable to resist grinning herself.

"Come in," Tara said, standing back, "I'm running a little late actually, hence..." she glanced down at her outfit. "Not exactly what I'd wear on a mission."

"Depends what the mission is," Willow smiled, following Tara's inviting gesture into the lounge room, "does it involve seducing someone? I mean," she added hastily, blushing again, "you look good. That was my foot-in-mouth way of saying you look good. Sorry."

"That's okay," Tara smiled shyly, "thanks. Do you want anything?" 'Yeah, you could say that,' Willow mischievously thought. "Tea, coffee?"

"Tea, thank you," Willow replied, silencing her lascivious brain, "I think I'd better not have any more coffee just yet, I've had my morning cup, and it's kind of a big cup... actually it's a porcelain vat with a handle attached." Tara chuckled, heading to the kitchen, which was open to the lounge room, separated only by breakfast table.

"Join me?" Willow asked impulsively. "There's no hurry, we don't even have to leave for like, half an hour... I got here early. Actually I waited around so I wouldn't get here too early, I didn't want to get you out of bed-" 'Getting you into bed, on the other hand...' 'Quiet, naughty brain!' "I didn't, did I?"

"No," Tara assured her, fetching two cups from a cupboard, "I was up already. Just, you know, distracted..."

"Oh?" Willow asked. "Nothing bad?" Tara shot her a mysterious smile.

"No," she replied, "nothing bad." Willow smiled back, then spent a moment looking around while Tara prepared the tea. Tara's house wasn't very large, but neither was it cramped - it seemed... 'Cosy,' Willow thought, 'comfortable.' The furniture was stylish, yet not ostentatious, the decorations were eclectic - classical paintings, a few photos, a pair of tapestries, a large teddy bear on one side of the couch. To Willow, it seemed very personal, a space that Tara had made her own. She wondered briefly if she was intruding, then reassured herself at the ease with which Tara had invited her in. 'She doesn't mind me being in her space,' she smiled faintly. 'Then again, maybe it's no big deal to her. But, yay anyway, it's certainly not a bad thing.'

"So," she said, as Tara sat opposite her, and handed her her cup, "how did you become a Bunny? That, by way of being a standard conversation-starter." Tara smiled and glanced down at her cup, causing her hair to spill elegantly across her silk-clad shoulders.

"I started in profiling," she said, taking a sip, "first as an academic sideline - I studied psychology - then some of my professors suggested I look into it more seriously, as a career. It wasn't really what I'd imagined myself doing," she admitted with a wry grin, "but, I turned out to be pretty good. The Ministry recruited me - at first as a specialist, I didn't initially think of becoming a field agent. But you know how much specialist work is field work anyway, so I had to take the training in self-defence, I got a grounding in the basics... it just sort of developed from there. Actually M suggested I take the more advanced training, to see what I was capable of." She gave Willow a grin. "I think it came as more of a surprise to me than anyone else that I had what it took to be a Bunny."

"I know the feeling," Willow agreed fervently, "I mean, assuming I do have what it takes, that is. Still untested at this stage."

"But you've done field work before," Tara said, "and passed all the tests, or M wouldn't have promoted you."

"Oh, yeah," Willow said dismissively, "but it was all kind of by accident. All the training, the extra disciplines, I just sort of... did it because it was there. My parents kind of raised me to be an over-achiever," she said with a grin, her gaze dropping to her cup which she fiddled with in her lap. "So, you know, there's a level of training available, off I go... I never thought anything would come of it. I certainly didn't think I'd end up having to save the world. With you, of course," she added quickly, looking back at Tara. "You being the senior Bunny, naturally. I'm glad you're here."

"Of course I'm here," Tara said with a faint grin, "it's my house." She smiled wider as Willow giggled. "I'm glad you're here," she added.

"Th-thanks," Willow said, smiling brightly, "I'm glad I'm here too... and sort of talking in circles now..."

"Why is that?" Tara asked gently, taking Willow's empty cup. Their fingers touched for a moment, and the touch lingered. "D-do I make you nervous?"

"Oh, no!" Willow assured her. "No, of course not... yes. But good nervous! Not bad intimidating nervous, at all, no siree. Good nervous. You know what I mean?"

"I think so," Tara smiled.

"Good," Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "Usually when I start talking like that people just look at me blankly until I wind down and stop."

"Babble Bunny," Tara joked.

"Adorabunny," Willow insisted playfully.

"Very much so," Tara agreed. "I just have to go get changed, I'll be back in a minute."

'Is she flirting?' Willow wondered when Tara had vanished down the short hall leading to her bedroom. 'Oh dear god please let her be flirting with me!' The image of Tara's silky presence wavered in front of her eyes. 'If she's not interested, it is going to be so difficult to get her out of my system... my system doesn't want her out of it, no way. Please be flirting.'

Continue to Smut Bunnies Chapter Four

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