For once in her life, Elphaba didn’t think.
The air between them was thick with something dangerous—a tension neither of them had the strength to resist anymore.
Elphaba hovered over Glinda, her golden eyes dark, her breath uneven. She had spent years denying herself, fighting against everything she wanted, pushing away anything that felt too good, too real, too impossible.
But not tonight.
Tonight, Glinda was under her, looking up at her with soft, wicked amusement, her lips kiss-swollen and waiting, her hands tracing teasing circles where Elphaba’s shirt had slipped off her shoulders.
"Elphie," Glinda murmured, fingertips ghosting over emerald skin, sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you afraid?"
Elphaba swallowed hard.
"Terrified," she admitted, voice raw, eyes never leaving Glinda’s.
Glinda’s lips curved, slow and knowing. She had already won.
"Then let me make you forget," she whispered.
And then she pulled her down into another kiss—hot, unrelenting, deep enough to steal the breath from Elphaba’s lungs.
Elphaba caved completely.
There was no stopping this now—no pulling back, no second-guessing. She needed this, needed her, and Oz help her, she was going to take everything Glinda was willing to give.
Her hands skated down Glinda’s sides, mapping out the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, every place that made her gasp, sigh, arch into her touch.
"My sweet," Elphaba whispered against her lips, low, reverent, almost worshipful.
Glinda’s breath hitched.
"Say it again," she pleaded.
Elphaba smirked, lips trailing slowly, torturously down Glinda’s throat, her hands slipping beneath the silk of her nightgown, teasing the bare skin underneath.
"My sweet Glinda," she murmured, teeth grazing delicate skin, feeling the way Glinda shuddered beneath her.
Glinda let out a quiet, shaky moan, her fingers gripping at Elphaba’s back, pulling her impossibly closer.
And Oz, the sound undid her.
Elphaba’s lips traveled lower, her hands growing bolder, Glinda’s body pressing into hers like she was trying to merge them together, to burn every inch of Elphaba’s touch into her skin.
"Elphie—" Glinda gasped as Elphaba’s mouth found a particularly sensitive spot, and Elphaba grinned against her skin before pressing harder, making her cry out.
"So sensitive, my sweet," Elphaba teased, her voice dark, taunting, reveling in the way Glinda’s breath stuttered.
"You’re terrible," Glinda huffed, but it was ruined by the way her hips arched up into Elphaba’s touch, silent beggingwritten all over her body.
Elphaba laughed softly, nipping playfully at Glinda’s collarbone.
"And yet, you keep pulling me closer."
Glinda growled—an actual growl—before flipping them over, pinning Elphaba down with unexpected strength.
"You talk too much," she declared, and then she devoured her, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Elphaba’s throat, along her shoulders, her chest, her stomach, her fingers trailing fire in their wake.
Elphaba gasped, her head tipping back against the pillows as Glinda took her time, savoring every inch of green skin she uncovered.
"Glinda," she panted, writhing beneath her, her control fracturing by the second.
Glinda looked up at her, eyes dark, lips curved in smug delight.
"Yes, darling?" she purred, nails raking down Elphaba’s ribs, slow and deliberate.
Elphaba let out a shuddering breath, her hands tangling in golden curls, tugging just enough to make Glinda gasp.
"Don’t—" her voice broke as Glinda’s lips dipped lower, "—stop."
Glinda just smirked.
"I wasn’t planning to."
And then—
Nothing but fire. Nothing but hands and mouths and whispered names, nothing but the quiet gasp of skin meeting skin, nothing but the feeling of finally, finally giving in.
For once in her life, Elphaba didn’t think.
She just felt.
And Oz, it was glorious.