Thank you all for reading!

The credits rolled on the TV screen, but Oz had already forgotten what the movie had been. He was entranced with just holding Willow's hand, tracing the lines across her palm with his thumb, sliding his fingers along hers, feeling the instinctive curl of her hand around his. He had come so close to losing her, first to the Hansel and Gretel demon and then to the opening of the Hellmouth, and hadn't been able to help her either time. That she had come through them both, and come through a stronger, more determined person, far more sure of herself than she had ever been before, was a credit to her. He had always known she had it in her, but now she was beginning to learn that, too, and it made her irresistible to him.

"Oz," she said softly, her voice a mere whisper. He looked up from her hand, that small hand with so much power hidden in its sinews, and met her eyes. "We should—" She caught her breath as he stroked his thumb across her palm, and then tried again. "My parents."

"I thought you said they were gone all night."

"It's almost one. For parents, that is all night."

She was right. He should let her go and head home. No one was looking for him; his parents trusted him, and they knew he was often out late with the band. But Willow's parents still expected her to be more or less normal … as much as they expected anything of her at all.

Except that he didn't want to let go. His blood was heated from her touch, and his arms felt empty without her in them. "Maybe … we could go upstairs." His voice was husky in his ears.

Willow's hand stiffened in his. "You mean … upstairs upstairs? Tonight?"

He deliberately gentled his touch, soothing rather than stimulating. Part of the delight of being with Willow was learning what helped her calm down, what eased her fears and made her brave again. "Not upstairs upstairs, not yet. I mean, take it slow. I just … I'm not ready to let go of you yet."

"Oh." She smiled. "In that case." Willow stood up, tugging on their joined hands to get Oz to stand up, too, and led the way to her bedroom. Once there, with the door closed behind them, he could feel her beginning to tense, almost hear her wondering what happened now and what was expected of her, and to help her get out of her head a little he lifted her hand, still held firmly in his, to his mouth and began to move his lips softly over the ball of her thumb.

Willow caught her breath in a delightful little gasp and he reached out with his other arm, wrapping it around her waist and bringing her closer to him so that he could kiss her.

Oz never got tired of this, the feel of Willow in his arms, the slow melt of her initial worries into pure enjoyment. He found her tongue, cupping her cheek to hold her head still while they kissed, then moved his hand around to the back of her head, his fingers sliding through the silky red strands of her hair. Still kissing her, he walked her slowly backward until they reached the edge of her bed.

He pulled back, then, waiting for her eyes to open. "Should I go?"

"No! No, stay. Please." Sinking back on the bed, she tugged on his shirt to get him to lie down with her. As he stretched out next to her, Willow's hand stayed where it was, and then slowly her fingers found their way under his shirt and up over his stomach.

Oz caught his breath at the exploration, and Willow's fingers stilled. He put his hand on hers. "It's okay."

"I just …" She frowned a little, and Oz bent to kiss the little wrinkle away from above her nose.

"Like this." He moved his other hand under her sweater, biting back a moan at the feel of her soft skin under his fingers.

"Oz." It was little more than a breath. Wilow closed her eyes as his hand moved up and up, stopping just below her breast. Then he moved it just that little bit more so that his hand was cupped around the soft curve. "Oz," she said again, something halfway between a sigh and a protest.

"Willow?" He would stop if she wanted him to, but he hoped she wouldn't. He couldn't help moving his hand just a little, a gentle massaging motion, and Willow's back arched immediately, pressing her breast more firmly against his hand.

Taking that as a yes, he moved his thumb until he could feel her nipple beneath the fabric of her bra, and he traced a circle, feeling the nipple harden under his touch.

Willow's eyes flew open, and her free hand came halfway up, as if to stop him, and then fell back to her side. The hand he had trapped against his stomach curved reflexively, the short nails digging into his skin just a bit.

It was suddenly too warm in the room. Oz let go of Willow, both breast and hand, and sat up, stripping off his T-shirt. Her little moan of protest at the loss of contact was delicious, and he bent to kiss her again, harder than before.

"Wait. Oz." She pushed at him, and he pulled back reluctantly.

Willow sat up. She took a deep breath, and then she pulled her sweater off over her head, sitting there in front of him in just her bra.

"Will, are you sure about this?"

For answer, she reached out, placing her palm flat against his chest. Oz put his hand over hers again, holding her there, drinking in her touch.

Oz tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him as he lay back, until they lay together, bare skin pressed against bare skin. "Willow."

Hesitantly, her mouth sought his, her fingers curling against his chest as they kissed again. He kissed her neck, and her collarbone, both of his hands reaching for her breasts again as he rolled them over so that he was above her. He wanted to move his mouth lower, taste the softness his hands were massaging, but he wanted her too much—he didn't dare take it too far too fast. This was the farthest they had ever been, and when they went beyond it, he wanted her to be ready. So he kept his mouth on her neck, venturing along the top of her shoulder, but no further.

Willow's breath was coming heavily now, and he could feel the restless movements of her hips underneath him. He had been careful to lie at an angle to avoid direct contact, sure that she wasn't ready for that yet. Her hands were on his shoulders now, moving over his back, exploring, and he delighted in her increasing bravery.

Then they heard feet on the stairs, voices in the hallway, and they both froze. Her parents went on past her room without stopping, but Oz could feel that the moment was broken. He withdrew, sitting up, catching her hand in his and bringing it to his lips for a final, gentle kiss.

She was watching him with worried eyes, unsure how she felt about what they had just done, and he was glad they had stopped when they did. "You are an extraordinary human, do you know that?"

Willow gripped his hand tightly in response, then let go. Oz got up from the bed and retrieved his shirt, pulling it back on. He looked at her again, lying on the bed with a pillow clutched against her naked stomach, and gave her a smile, relieved to get one back.

"Good-night, Will."

"Good-night, Oz."