The lovelies over at The Kitten Board (giant Willow/Tara board) asked for this epilogue, so here y'all go.

"Hey." Hands brushed against the tops of her shoulders, warm fingers smoothing across the straps of her tank top and the loose strands of blond hair that had come out of the high, casual ponytail. Tara smiled to herself, not glancing up, and turned a page.

"Hey, yourself," she said, trying to resist the light shiver that wanted to sweep from her neck to her thighs when Willow's thumbs stroked across the dips of her collarbone, edging beneath the thin straps of her shirt. She was suddenly very aware that she was not wearing a bra. Warm breath danced across the side of her throat as Willow leaned forward, lips hovering inches from her ear, the tips of her red hair just touching the curve where Tara's shoulder met her neck.

"That's all I get? I've been working hard all day and you give me 'hey'?" Tara's lips quirked again, and she cleared her throat.

"I'd have more sympathy if your d-definition of 'work' involved m-more than just sitting in front of a laptop," she mused, eyes moving across the same sentence for a third time. Willow scoffed, and Tara yelped as the straps of her tank top were suddenly tugged down over her shoulders and halfway to her elbows. She inserted one finger into the book to mark her place, twisting her torso in the wicker chair to meet Willow's crooked grin.

"That's not very nice of you to say," the redhead said, shaking her head. Tara sighed, carefully turned back to face the table, found her bookmark, placed it in the novel, and set the book down. Willow's hands slid along her arms, her breath catching slightly. Then, very slowly, Tara twisted around again and pulled her right leg up, swung it over the back of the chair, and lowered it to the other side. Facing Willow now, Tara looked down. Her shirt, low-cut to begin with, was now drooping precariously above her nipples.

"I guess you'll want me to make it up to you," she said, eyes sliding up Willow's slim frame until they found her face. The redhead's grin widened, her green eyes glinting.

"I guess I will," she breathed. Tara lifted a hand, but Willow caught it in her own. The scars that covered Willow's wrist and forearm made the light, easy strength of her grip even more striking, and Tara's heartbeat quickened. "No," Willow said, shaking her head. "You don't get to move."

"Are you going to tie me up?" the blond asked, teasingly, and Willow blushed. She did not, however, release Tara's hand.

"I don't need to," Willow said, and there was no embarrassment in her low voice. "Because if you do move... Let's just say you won't want to." She let go of Tara's wrist and stepped closer, pressed against the back of the chair, her hands going to the hem of the blond's thin top. Tara felt her mouth crook up in a half-smile, and through heavy-lidded eyes she watched her girlfriend's hands oh-so-slowly pull up the shirt.

"And why is that?" she asked, almost surprised at the throatiness of her own voice. "What are you going to do?" Willow leaned in, her lips just above Tara's skin, her tongue darting out to touch the creamy hollow between Tara's breasts.

"Because if you move," Willow began, and lifted Tara's shirt off the blond's compliant torso, "...I'll stop."

Her hands, the pads of the fingers roughened with activity, slid down to Tara's chest, the thumbs brushing over her nipples before, in one swift movement, Willow stripped out of her own shirt, leaving her standing in nothing but a too-thin black bra. Tara took a breath and leaned towards her, but Willow placed one palm flat against her collarbone.

"Uh-uh," she said, smirking, and then she kissed her. Heat exploded through Tara's stomach, racing down between her legs, and she squirmed on the chair and wished to god she hadn't decided that straddling it was the best plan. Tara wanted nothing more than to grab Willow, get off the stupid chair and have at it, but Willow was pushing her backwards and she could do nothing but obey. In an instant, Tara's back was pressed against the table, leaving her legs open and her torso bared, her hands hovering out to the sides, unable to touch. Tara groaned and Willow chuckled into her mouth, her hands stroking along Tara's ribcage and sending ripples of gooseflesh across her stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of her jeans. Willow was bent almost double over the back of the chair now, her breasts just barely touching Tara's own, her tongue exploring Tara's mouth with sweet expertise. She grunted, inhaling, and the cotton fabric of her bra rubbed against Tara's nipples and the blond had to, she had to reach up and wrap her hands around Willow's supple waist. As soon as she moved, Willow broke off the kiss and straightened, clicking that clever tongue. Tara sat up, her back aching from the angle, pouting with disappointment.

"I'll cut you a little slack," Willow said wickedly, and pulled Tara to her feet. The blond nearly stumbled over the chair as Willow led her from the kitchen to the downstairs bedroom, and then nearly shrieked with frustration when, as soon as the door was closed, Willow pushed her down on the bed and began to wiggle out of her pants.

"Please," Tara breathed, watching Willow's breasts squeeze together as she bent to step out of the jeans.

"I still feel like you don't..." Willow trailed off, stepping into the space between Tara's legs and rotating her hips until the only space between the two of them was made out of underwear. "...appreciate me," she finished, leaning down to capture Tara's mouth again as Tara's fists clenched in the bedspread in an effort not to move. Willow's fingers found their way beneath her plain white panties, dancing around the apex of her thighs and away again. Tara gasped into the kiss, pulling away to throw her head back as Willow dropped her own head to Tara's chest.

"I- I appreciate you," Tara called, writhing against the redhead as Willow slipped one hand between Tara's legs and the other to the back of her head, tangling her fingers in long blond hair.

"Do you?" the redhead asked hotly, and paused all movements. Tara gasped again, this time in desperation, and wrapped her legs around Willow's waist, thrusting against her hand in the hopes that she'd start again.

"I do! I really, really do! I-" Tara's voice broke off without warning as Willow licked her lips and, with her free hand, wrapped an arm around Tara's back for support as she lifted the other woman off the mattress. The action gave Willow even easier access, and Tara found she couldn't really remember how to speak at all as Willow backed them into the wall and, with her hand and her hips, wiped everything but explosions from Tara's mind.

After, when Tara collapsed on trembling legs to the floor, Willow laughed as Tara shook her head.

"Damn," she panted, eyes closed. "I should ignore you m-more often." Willow dropped a kiss on Tara's shoulder as they leaned against the wall, and smiled.

"Maybe later," she said, looking up through long lashes. "Right now I could use a little... extra attention." Tara let out a laugh, then pushed herself to her knees and straddled the redhead's waist.

"I think that could be arranged."