Slow. Deep. Unrushed.
"Oh, Oz," Glinda whispered again, her voice higher, breathier, her nails biting into the fabric of Elphaba’s coat as her back pressed flat against the wall.
Elphaba was losing herself.
Every nerve in her body burned, her mind spinning with the way Glinda melted under her hands, the way she arched, soft and wanting, pressing closer as if she needed this just as badly.
"Tell me to stop," Elphaba murmured against her skin, dragging her lips slowly along the column of Glinda’s throat.
Glinda shivered.
"I should," she whispered, tilting her head back, giving Elphaba more.
Elphaba's teeth skimmed her pulse.
"Then do it."
Glinda’s breath hitched.
Her hands tightened in Elphaba’s coat, the silk of her nightgown slipping against the rougher fabric, warmth bleeding through where their bodies pressed flush.
"Elphie..." It was almost a whimper.
And that was it.
Elphaba was gone.
With a growl of frustration, she grabbed Glinda’s waist, spinning her off the wall, walking her backwards toward the bed—each step deliberate, slow, their lips never parting for long.
Glinda let her, stumbling back, fingers desperately clawing at Elphaba’s coat, pulling at buttons, fumbling in her urgency.
"Off," she demanded, breathless, yanking at the fabric.
Elphaba chuckled darkly, a sound Glinda had never heard before but wanted to drown in.
"So impatient," Elphaba teased, but she shrugged the coat off anyway, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.
Glinda grinned triumphantly—but the victory was short-lived.
Because the moment Elphaba was free of it, she struck.
She grabbed Glinda again, this time flipping them both down onto the bed, caging her in with an arm beside her head.
Glinda squeaked, giggling, but the sound died in her throat as Elphaba settled over her, knee between her thighs, golden eyes dark and unreadable.
For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Just looked.
And that—that—was what undid Glinda more than anything.
Because Elphaba was staring at her like she was something precious, something delicate, something she could never have but couldn’t resist touching anyway.
Glinda’s chest rose and fell, unsteady.
"You’re looking at me like you’re scared," she whispered.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching.
"I am."
Glinda’s heart stuttered.
She reached up, fingers tracing softer now over Elphaba’s jaw, her cheek.
"You don’t have to be."
Elphaba made a sound—something pained, frustrated, longing.
"You don’t understand, Glinda," she murmured. Her forehead pressed to Glinda’s, eyes closing. "You don’t understand what this means to me."
Glinda’s breath hitched.
Because she did understand. She understood all too well.
So she smiled, soft and knowing, letting her fingers tangle in Elphaba’s hair.
"Then let me show you."
And this time, she kissed her.
Slow. Deep. Unrushed.
And Elphaba let herself fall.