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Elphaba was staring at Glinda, wide-eyed and cheeks darkened. “I have to go.”
Glinda’s hands, still lightly brushing the ends of Elphaba’s thick black hair, stilled. She wanted to ask what she’d done wrong—all she’d done was tell Elphaba she looked beautiful, which was the understatement of the century—but it didn’t look as if she’d done anything wrong. It looked… she took in the way Elphaba’s breathing was skipping, uneven, running goosebumps up Glinda’s arm. Her pupils were blown, her lips slightly parted. It looked like something else entirely.
Abruptly, Elphaba stood and Glinda pulled her hands away from Elphaba’s hair, where she’d absently been curling the ends around her fingers. She thought she could feel her heartbeat there, at her fingertips, and imagined the pulse of it running through Elphaba’s hair like a live wire, beating the skip skip skip straight into Elphaba’s brain.
For a moment, they were still like that: Elphaba standing and looking down at Glinda with something heavy and afraid in her eyes, Glinda looking back with her hands still hovering in the air, their gazes locked.
And then Elphaba whirled on her heel and walked as quickly out of the room as she could without running. Glinda could see the lift of her heel, the way she was restraining herself from fleeing faster.
“You’re welcome!” Glinda called after her.
She didn’t know where Elphaba was going, only that she definitely didn’t need to be anywhere, the way she pretended. Not at this hour.
The sun had already set, leaving the room shadowed in the corners, lit by the warm yellow glow of their bedside lamps. The rush of hard shoes on stone floors that echoed during the day had ceased, leaving the hallways quiet and empty. Even their dorm room felt more still than usual, the closed window shutting out the breeze that often ruffled the curtains and rifled playfully through the papers on their desks, making little specks of dust dance in the sun. Now, there wasn’t so much as a touch of movement: not Elphaba in the bed across from Glinda twitching in her sleep, not the padding of bare feet on the floor above them. Nothing.
Glinda sat there on the edge of her bed, her pink comforter dipping around her as she let herself drop onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Behind her, mounted on the wall between their two beds, a clock ticked, ticked, ticked.
This extended makeover had lasted longer than Glinda realized until now—not only were people not out and about, they probably were past the point of studying, too. It was nighttime, good and proper.
Glinda closed her eyes, replacing the gray patchwork of stones above her with the recollection of Elphaba. Her long, thick black waves, striking against her green skin. The thick lashes framing her brown eyes, how they’d widen imperceptibly even as Elphaba held an impassive expression. She pretended not to care—nonchalant, unimpressed, annoyed—but the way her eyes moved gave her away. They’d follow Glinda across the room, and then Elphaba would look away swiftly, as if afraid of getting caught.
Had Elphaba noticed her, too? Glinda hadn’t been able to keep her hands out of Elphaba’s hair, so thick and smooth, or her eyes off of Elphaba’s skin. Her arms had been bare—she’d been wearing another one of her long black dresses, but she’d shed her usual button-up coat. Glinda had been able to see the shape of her—her thin wrists, the swell of her chest. She’d thrown herself across Elphaba’s lap at least once, gazing up at the smooth skin under Elphaba’s jaw and the curve of her neck.
Sighing, Glinda turned onto her stomach, reaching back to unzip her dress. She slid out of it like a butterfly out of a chrysalis, smooth and slithery, wearing only a pink satin slip under, thin fabric and slim. The dress, all tulle and glitter, slid slowly off the bed with a rustle.
Glinda would’ve expected to be cold, having shed so many layers at once, but she still feels hot inside, coals in her stomach, in heat in her cheeks and between her legs. She should probably pick up that dress and hang it up, before it gets wrinkled and the tulle begins to bunch and stick out at odd angles.
She rolled onto her back again, her ankles falling lazily apart. Glinda slipped her hand down, laying it between her legs, an unmoving but perceptible presence over her dress, playing coy. She knew if she started herself, she’d probably finish herself too.
Why couldn’t she get Elphaba out of her head?
Maybe it was that she couldn’t help but linger on the soft curves she’d seen in Elphaba, vulnerable spots on such a hard-edged person. Elphaba, who marched around like her spine was made of steel and shot looks that could kill across the classroom. Her gruff, standoffish disdain, and the way she walked past Glinda in the hallway as if Glinda wasn’t worth two pennies.
Glinda pressed with her fingers, shimmying on the bed slightly to allow the fabric of her dress to dip so that it wouldn’t give her as much resistance as she moved them idly. Around and around. She could feel the arousal trickling slowly through her nerves, like slowly, slowly sliding up a dimmer switch. She knew there was probably a reason she shouldn’t be doing this right now, but she couldn’t quite grasp it, overwhelmed by the growing hum of her body.
Even as Glinda had started warming up to Elphaba, she hadn’t gotten much affection in return. Nothing but an impassive tolerance. It was a step up from the open distaste, but the triumph was always mixed with disappointment.
It was hard to imagine her having that soft skin under her arms, the wispy hairs at the back of her neck, the ability to get goosebumps when she was cold or unsettled.
Glinda slid the slip even farther up her thighs, circling faster. Her hips began to press up to her hand, almost unconsciously, seeking firmer pressure.
And then—Glinda knew there was a reason she shouldn’t be doing this—the door clicked open, and before Glinda could move an inch, Elphaba stepped back into the room. “Glinda?”
Glinda snapped her legs shut and sat up so quickly it made her dizzy, propping herself up on her hands. Her fingertips felt damp. Her panties slipped, frictionless, over her crotch, cold in their wetness, and despite herself, she pressed a little harder into the bed, so far along her way to coming she almost thought she could finish just rubbing herself against the comforter, right here in front of Elphaba.
They stared at each other, trying to figure out if they could pretend Elphaba hadn’t seen what she’d seen.
They could not.
Elphaba’s cheeks were flushed again, her eyes wide and dark again, and she held herself tense—the look of someone holding back. If she’d stepped out to cool off, which Glinda suspected she had, it hadn’t exactly worked out in her favor.
Don’t mind me, Glinda thought of saying, or something else hopeless—what could she possibly say in this situation that wouldn’t be hopeless?—but she opened her mouth and said, high pitched and panicked, “I could teach you how to do this, too!” She’d used that refrain so many times today, it seemed, that it was the first thing her mind reached for when presented with a blank slate. She imagined herself saying, I’ll teach you how to flirt and flounce, how to fix your hair, and how to touch yourself. A laugh bordering on hysteria escapes Glinda’s throat. Yes, a very important step to becoming popular. And then, instead of again saying, don’t mind me, and fleeing, which would be the absolute best course of action, she again ends up babbling: “I guess you already know how.”
Her brain seems to have taken a vacation.
Elphaba gapes at her from across the room. Without the strap of her bag to clutch, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, swinging them up to rest on her bedpost, and then up to fiddle with her hair, which doesn’t seem to be out of place, from what Glinda can see. She did just brush out Elphaba’s hair, after all.
“Did you eat a magic mushroom?” Elphaba asks. Her voice sounds weak, and she’s shuffling over to her bed as if she’s forgotten how to walk.
Glinda watches her approach, aware of the way her pink slip clings tightly to her body and rides up to show most of her pale thighs. She sees Elphaba’s eyes dart low, and then away. With Elphaba on the edge of one bed and Glinda on the edge of the other, the space between them suddenly feels enormous.
Glinda sticks her leg out and taps Elphaba’s knee with her toe. Boop. Even more of her thigh is now visible. Cool air brushes between her legs.
“For the record, I don’t—” Elphaba waves a hand in Glinda’s direction, vaguely down her body. “—do that. I never…why would I?”
To feel good, Glinda would answer, but she’s too stuck on the fact that Elphaba has never even touched herself to get the words out. She’s probably a stranger to real sexual pleasure at all. It’s ridiculous. How, at this age, could she never have…?
“Then I really could teach you,” she says, getting up from the bed and moving closer to Elphaba, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. Her pink slip falls back down around her mid-thighs. “You should know how to please your body.”
Elphaba lifted her chin, tipping her head back to watch Glinda get closer, but she didn’t seem to be leaning away at all. Her lips were parted. They closed, and Glinda saw Elphaba’s throat move with a swallow, and then they parted again. “What?” she whispered, but her voice cracked nervously, so that it came out soft, and then jarringly loud.
It made Glinda weak, the way Elphaba’s facade had vanished, replaced by astonishment and a longing that Elphaba clearly wasn’t thinking straight enough to hide. It made her knees weak, anyway. It made her wild confidence only stronger, and stronger, as she stepped closer and closer, until she stood over Elphaba, looking down at her, and pressed one hand to Elphaba’s knee.
Elphaba stared up at her.
Unlike Glinda’s bed, which Glinda had decked out as soon as she arrived with her own set of sheets and thick, fluffy pink comforter, Elphaba had simply settled into the navy blue-and-white striped sheets and pillowcase she was given, with a thin blue comforter spread neatly on top. She was always so put together. If Elphaba herself was a set of sheets, she’d be starched and folded perfectly, sharp enough to hurt when the corners poked you.
Glinda wanted to rumple her up.
She dragged her hand further up Elphaba’s thigh, pushing up the fabric of her black dress. Her black tights were silky smooth and underneath it, Elphaba’s skin was warm. “Are you really going to let me?” Glinda whispered.
Elphaba’s voice dragged low against her throat. She looked Glinda in the eye, as if daring her. “Are you really going to do it?” Her eyes glistened in the lamplight, her usually dark green lips purple-ish red from the lipstick Glinda had swiped across them only half an hour ago.
The clock ticked in the silence.
Heart thundering in her chest, hands tingling with the thought, Glinda leaned over. “Only…” She let her touch on Elphaba’s thigh lighten, so she was no longer sliding her palm over her tights, but dragging just the tips of her fingers up, up. “If…” The fabric of Elpahba’s dress gathered around her wrist until Glinda felt the edge of Elphaba’s panties raised from under the tights. “You let me.”
She slid her fingers back and forth, right there. Right at the edge of everything. She felt Elphaba’s shiver and watched her swallow again, her breath becoming shorter.
Then, looking at Elphaba, she took one more step in, so that her chest nearly brushed Elphaba’s face, so that Elphaba had to tip her head back even farther to maintain eye contact. So that Glinda bumped the edge of the bed between Elphaba’s legs, and Elphaba had to let her knees fall open to let Glinda in. Elphaba did. Her knees brushed Glinda’s hips.
“Okay,” Glinda murmured. She reached up with the hand that wasn’t running along the line of Elphaba’s underwear and tucked a loose lock of long, black hair back, letting her fingertip linger on the thin skin behind Elphaba’s ear and along the line of her jaw. “I’ll teach you.”
With a gentle tap to Elphaba’s shoulder, Glinda got Elphaba to fall back onto the pinstriped bedspread, following her descent and hovering above her, propped up by an elbow. She pushed Elphaba’s dress up unevenly around her hips, which Elphaba lifted wordlessly to allow Glinda to push up even further, until a thin strip of green skin was visible over the waist of her tights. She couldn’t believe Elphaba was just going to let her do this. Let her slide her fingertips over her skin, feeling the soft give of her flesh and watching goosebumps bloom in their wake.
Glinda had thought about this again and again. Ridiculous, stupid things. They’d be sitting side by side in class, the rough wood of the bench catching against the tulle of Glinda’s skirt. Elphaba would inevitably be bent over the table, scribbling notes down furiously, a frown of concentration pulling her mouth tight. Glinda would imagine that expression crumbling like a dried out sand castle—a trickle, and then a cascade—the tight lines gone slack with pleasure. Or when they were dancing together at the ball, Elphaba awkward and fumbling, Glinda imagined Elphaba falling forward, into Glinda’s arms, pressed unceremoniously chest to chest, her surprised breath on Glinda’s neck.
Sometimes, Glinda imagined coming up behind her as she was studying at her desk, kissing her on the top of her head. Elphaba would turn around, mouth tugging into a reluctant smile, and pull her down for a real kiss, letting Glinda slide her hands into that long, glossy hair. Those were the silliest ones of all, Glinda thought. In those, Elphaba was just kissing her to kiss her. The daydream was so unreasonable, she hardly ever touched it.
In her sex daydreams, though, Glinda made it worth Elphaba’s while. She’d give Elphaba so much pleasure, Elphaba’s one-track, productivity-wired brain would finally let her have the time of day. Maybe Glinda would sit with her mouth between Elphaba’s legs while Elphaba read a textbook, or would use her fingers while she quizzed Elphaba, so she could practice thinking under pressure. Something useful, even if it was so embarrassingly ridiculous it was hard to even think the word useful.
So, in some ways, Glinda supposed if this was ever going to happen, of course this would be the way it would happen. As a learning experience.
Glinda gathered the fabric pooling around her wrist and pulled the dress over Elphaba’s head, watching the green skin emerge beneath it, smooth and flawless, her flat stomach and the soft, wispy black hair at her waist band, and then the swell of her breasts. They were small, cupped in a black wireless bra. She probably never really shopped for herself, Glinda realized, and from what she had heard of Elphaba’s parents, they weren’t exactly invested in caring for her.
“You’ve never even tried?” Glinda asks, feeling she should say something.
Part of the dress caught on Elphaba’s elbows for a moment, and Glinda pulled her eyes away from Elphaba’s breasts to finish pulling it over her head.
Elphaba looked back at her, lean and wiry, sharp at the elbows, shoulders, and chin. The bra was simple black fabric, but still stunning against the emerald. Once again laid back on the bed, her hair fanned about her, a lock over her shoulder, curls of it across the pillow, some of it rustling between her bare back and the bedspread.
“Why would I?” She lifted one shoulder, watching Glinda’s hands as if searching for clues as to what Glinda might want from her. When Glinda ran her hand over the curve of Elpahba’s shoulder, Elphaba turned on her side, allowing Glinda to unhook her bra and slowly slide that off, too. Her breasts, freed, looked so inviting, Glinda thought she might lose her carefully wrangled control in that instant.
“I don’t know.” Glinda leaned down, mouth over one of Elphaba’s already hard nipples, close enough that her breath ran over the smooth skin, cupping it with one hand. “I got curious eventually. I think I was fifteen. You never did?”
Elphaba shifted slightly on the bed.
Glinda loved how clearly her body gave her away, how easy to read when she was bare like this. She could track Elphaba’s breathing, her minute twitches, the way her legs shifted apart almost imperceptibly when Glinda dipped her head and began to mouth lightly and Elphaba’s breast.
“I did.”
Glinda could hear the effort it took for Elphaba to keep her voice steady, and she smiled against Elphaba’s skin, dragging her teeth lightly against the nipple. She massaged Elphaba’s other breast with her hand, flicking her thumb over her other nipple and feeling Elphaba’s stomach dip with the hitch in her breath. She let Elphaba keep talking.
“I just didn’t think—” Elphaba broke off as Glinda scraped her teeth against Elphaba’s nipple and then circled her tongue around it, soothing the needle of pain. “I had better things to do with my time, that’s all.”
This was exquisite. All of it—the tremor in Elphaba’s voice, the incredible softness of Elphaba’s breasts in her mouth, under her fingers, the warmth of Elphaba’s side pressed against her in one, long line. She could feel her own arousal rising and rising, like the telltale creep of a tsunami before it hit.
Glinda lifted her head, breathing lightly across Elphaba’s skin, which glistened wet with her spit, to look at Elphaba.
She was propped up on her plain white pillow, lips pressed shut as if holding something in, and when Glinda opened her mouth and let her tongue circle Elphaba’s nipple again without looking away, she saw Elphaba’s brow tighten, and her lip pull in. She was trying so hard not to show her reactions, it made Glinda buzz.
“You didn’t think what?” Glinda asked, twisting Elphaba’s nipple gently between her fingers.
Elphaba’s eyes flicked down to Glinda’s hand, then back to Glinda’s face. “Have you done this before?”
“Dodging the question,” Glinda said cheerily, and released Elphaba’s nipple to slide her hand down the plane of her stomach, down, until she was once again running her fingers along the waist of Elphaba’s tights. “Can I?”
Elphaba pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flicking over Glinda’s face.
“You can say no to anything I’m doing,” Glinda said hastily. She stopped all her movements, suddenly afraid this hadn’t been clear from the start. “And we can stop, you know, if you want to.”
Elphaba snorted, her tense expression dissolving. “Obviously. Who do you think I think you are?”
Glinda blinked at her, stroking the skin below Elphaba’s navel again and speaking with her lips brushing Elphaba’s breast. “What?”
Elphaba shook her head. “Nevermind. Just…” Her eyes went back to where Glinda’s fingers waited at the edge of her black tights. “Can you do it without taking anything off?”
Ah. “Yeah, of course.”
Glinda began to slip her hand under the thin fabric of Elphaba’s tights, finding the elastic of Elphaba’s panties under that and letting her fingers dip below, following the warmth of Elphaba’s bare skin. She wanted to go slow, slow, slow, erring on the side of caution. She’d rather Elphaba be in knots with anticipation and impatience than feel rushed and overwhelmed.
She looked at Elphaba, Elphaba looked at her, her eyes dark pools, magnetic.
Glinda’s fingertips found a thick thatch of hair, and then—oh good—a slick wetness smeared everywhere. It had gotten on the panties, pressing against the back of her fingers, and caught in Elphaba’s hair, drops of wet suspended in curls, and it had gathered in the dip between her legs, so wet Glinda wondered if it would even feel like friction to Elphaba if she ran her fingers over it.
She didn’t look for Elphaba’s clit to find out, though. She ran her fingertips around, understanding what she was feeling first—the rises and folds, teasing lightly the outer edges.
Elphaba sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and then released it again, her lips staying parted and shining wet. “Have you done this before?” she asked again.
Glinda found Elphaba’s entrance and dipped one fingertip in. It was easier than she’d have expected for someone who’d never touched herself before, unbelievably wet. “Yeah,” she answered, and then quickly moving on, “This is really doing it for you, isn’t it?”
That was what Elphaba’s body was saying, anyway.
Slowly, she let her fingertip slip out of Elphaba and dragged it up, up, until she found that hard bundle of nerves and pressed. She knew she had it when Elphaba’s watchful expression dropped altogether, replaced by wide eyes and a sharp intake of breath through her open mouth.
“There it is,” she murmured. Elphaba’s cheeks, already flushed, went darker green.
Glinda had done this before, yeah. She was beautiful and popular, and once she was out, it wasn’t hard to find girls who’d spend a night with her. She’d dallied with a girl named Challan, who’d spend weeks in bed with her, and walk down the hallways arm in arm, and kiss her goodbye in the classroom doorway, but she was just like all the rest. It was too easy to find them. They’d show up as she was gathering her books with their hands in the pockets of their long, poofy dresses, rocking back nervously on their heels and batting their eyelashes. She’d been fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and full of enough desire to slide into bed bare with them, find out how to use her fingers and her tongue on someone else and find out what it felt like to straddle someone’s mouth.
The sheets rustled as Elphaba’s hips moved unconsciously, slightly downward, into the press of Glinda’s finger.
“Mmm,” Glinda hummed, smiling. She added a second finger and circled with more pressure, right below Elphaba’s clit, so that she brushed it firmly at every crest of the circle, but never lingered. “Good?”
Elphaba’s eyes fluttered shut. “Yes,” she said, “yes,” with a hitch in her voice that made Glinda’s own body throb. “Do you—do this a lot?”
None of them had been like Elphaba—antisocial and dressed in the same thin black dress every day, a sharp jacket with pressed lapels on top. Marching right past Glinda on the good days, shooting her burning glares on the bad ones. Absolutely dedicated to things that mattered, things like animal rights, her sister Nessa, her extensive studies.
It was so different, being around someone who wasn’t already in love with Glinda. Or, that is, think they were in love with Glinda, in love with the mask Glinda wore outside of the privacy of her own room: ditzy, kind, bubbly, hiding under more layers of posturing than her huge dresses had.
It sounded bad to say, but the truth was, she’d always had sex to get off. She’d never had sex because she desperately wanted to get someone else off. She’d never even been much interested. Not until now.
Glinda had done this before, yeah. But she’d never done this before. She didn’t know how to say that.
She whispered instead, “You’re so beautiful,” and slipped two fingers inside of Elphaba.
It was tight, but Glinda watched carefully as she pushed them gently in and saw no signs of pain. Elphaba was looking back at her, cheeks darkened and hairline damp with sweat, plastering curls to the sides of her face. Her mouth, open and wet, gasped out a faint sound of pleasure as Glinda began to work her fingers in and out, in and out, past the knuckles, as far as they could go.
Glinda felt the urge to rock against the bed, anything to give herself a little friction, her whole body alight with desire seeing Elphaba laid out before her, gasping and gazing at her with those dark eyes. She imagined sitting up beside Elphaba and letting the heel of her foot press into her own need, clumsily, and rutting against it as she pumped her fingers in and out of Elphaba’s wet entrance.
The thought made her dizzy, and yet, she didn’t have any real desire to do it. As much as her body begged for a release, she had never been more invested in someone else’s orgasm, and so relatively uninterested in her own.
Leaning in again, she took Elphaba’s breast into her mouth, rolling the nipple around with her tongue. Elphaba’s eyes followed her down, her gaze burning, as if the sight of Glinda’s lips sealed around the swell of her breast was captivating. With her fingers still pumping, she found Elphaba’s clit with her thumb and allowed the already steady movement of her hand to create a rhythm for Elphaba. It was hard to do in the confines of Elphaba’s panties and her tights. Glinda’s hand pushed wetly against the fabric surrounding her with every thrust.
The strain was worth it to hear Elphaba’s shaky, sharp inhale of breath, and the moan that came out when she released it, choked and rushed, as if she’d tried to hold it in and it had snagged raggedly on her teeth in its way out.
The first one seemed to have opened the floodgates, because after that, Elphaba’s gasps were peppered with a litany of high, soft sounds, wordless and almost musical in their rhythm, pulled from her throat with every push of Glinda’s thumb against her clit.
She could come from just this, Glinda thought, just hearing Elphaba gasp and moan from Glinda’s touch, her stomach tense and trembling with the nearness of orgasm, her hands twisted mindlessly, helplessly in the sheets.
Glinda pulled her head up again, unable to stop looking at Elphaba and watching her pleasure for very long.
She drank Elphaba in. She’d probably never see her like this again. Her dark hair, which had been splayed across the pillow, had now settled under her shoulders because of her shifting and squirming. Her collarbone and the sides of her face shone with sweat, and her mouth and breasts shone with spit, shadows from their yellow bedside lamps exaggerating the sharp lines of her body. The curve of her neck gleamed, long and smooth, as she arched, head back, pushing her hips down, harder, into the pressure of Glinda’s hand.
Her arm had begun to cramp, but she pushed harder, faster, adding in a third finger to see Elphaba’s mouth drop open, slack. She could see nothing of her own hand except the shape of it, a bulge between Elphaba’s legs working furiously, the sounds of slick slipping out muffled through the fabric.
If she was good enough, she thought, Elphaba might even let her do this again. Not necessarily because it was a good use of her time—it wasn’t, really—but because if anything could override reason, it would probably be desire.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, bursting so full with the feeling she had to say it.
Elphaba’s entrance contracted around Glinda’s fingers, tightening, loosening. A pulse.
“Oh,” Glinda breathed. She reached out with her free hand and smoothed the sweaty hair off of Elphaba’s forehead. “You like that?”
Elphaba’s dark eyes opened, meeting Glinda’s gaze with a wordless stare, some of the hair falling back over her face as she lifted her head slightly. “Glinda—” she said, the first word she’d said in a long time, cut off with a gasp.
“Okay,” Glinda murmured, “You’re beautiful.”
Elphaba’s eyes immediately fell shut again, throat clicking with an open-mouthed swallow, her body once again tightening around Glinda’s fingers. “Please,” she whispered, hips twitching, “please—”
“You’re good,” Glinda tried, pumping faster, muscles burning with the effort, “You’re so good, look at you, you’re so beautiful, you’re so good—”
Elphaba came.
It was beautiful to watch, breathtaking and immense. Her back arched, her hips jerking, pushing into Glinda’s hand, eyes shut tight and face twisted in pleasure. She contracted around Glinda’s hand, shaking, chest trembling with uneven, desperate breath. Her mouth opened with a cry, broken into pieces by shaking, shuddering gasps. Glinda felt as if Elphaba radiated her ecstasy, an aura that swept Glinda away in its current, submerging her, too.
“Oh god,” Glinda whispered, babbling now, too overcome to think. She only had half the presence of mind to remember to keep working Elphaba through to the end of her orgasm. “That’s it,” she said, “Good job. You’re so good. So good for me. You’re so good.”
Only when Elphaba’s hips stopped following the pressure of Glinda’s thumb, falling back onto the blue comforter limp, did Glinda slow her movements, lessening her stroking and letting her fingers slip slowly, slickly, out of Elphaba, and then pulled her hand out from under Elphaba’s tights.
They were gleaming, and had begun to prune slightly, the way they would if Glinda spent too long in the bath.
She wanted, in her aroused haze, to suck them clean, to taste Elphaba, suddenly struck by the thought that she would probably never again have the chance to know what she tasted like.
Elphaba’s expression had relaxed, from its contortion to a peaceful, almost sleepy look, slack, eyes half-open. They were trained on Glinda.
“That was good.” Elphaba sounded like she was still regaining her strength, and her eyebrow twitched in exasperation as soon as the words left her mouth. “I mean, I—I don’t know what I mean.”
Glinda thought it was possibly the first time she had ever heard Elphaba Thropp admit she didn’t know something. She should fuck Elphaba’s brains out all the time.
“I liked it,” Elphaba said awkwardly. She pushed herself up on her elbows, half-sitting up, with what looked like an immense effort, and pulled the pillow from under her head into her lap, squarely covering her bare torso. As if Glinda hadn’t just been dragging her teeth over Elphaba’s nipples.
“Well,” said Glinda, “that’s good.”
They stayed there for a moment, Elphaba hugging the pillow to her chest and Glinda wondering whether Elphaba would kick her off the bed. The buzzing need under Glinda’s skin, begging for touch, was quieting down, replaced only by the stillness of the moment.
Without Elphaba’s gasps and moans, the clock came back into focus. Tick. Tick. Into the night air.
“I didn’t know it would feel like that,” Elphaba ventured. It seemed she was still trying to articulate to Glinda how she felt.
Glinda knew how she felt, or at least something like it. To discover the ways her body worked, how it felt to come, was like unlocking something wholly new open. It felt suddenly that you knew everything you had never known before, and that you knew nothing at all. To have somebody else’s hands do it for you was to go through that unlocking all over again.
Something came back to her, something from earlier she had meant to ask about. “Before, you said…” She searched for it. “You said you didn’t think—something, you never finished the sentence. About why you’d never tried it before.”
Elphaba blinked back at her.
“Even though you were curious,” Glinda prompted. She knew that some people just never did try to make themselves feel good that way. But at twenty, and having admitted to being curious, and avoiding finishing a half-spoken sentence, Glinda felt as if she was missing some part of Elphaba’s story.
Elphaba sighed and looked away, shifting. She must be uncomfortably wet, Glinda realized. No longer so aroused because she had just come, but still soaked under her tights. “Just didn’t think that kind of life was for me,” she said quietly. Her voice took on the tone of confession.
Tenderness welled inside Glinda, irrepressible, seeing Elphaba clutching her pillow and looking down. She eased up off the bed and offered Elphaba the thin, fuzzy pink blanket she kept folded at the foot of her bed in case she ever got cold at night. “A masturbatory life?” she asked, watching Elphaba shake out the folds and wrap it around herself.
“No,” Elphaba replied immediately, as if Glinda were being stupid, and then paused. “Yes. A—sex life.”
Glinda settled back on the edge of Elphaba’s bed, gratified that Elphaba didn’t so much as blink when she did. “So you never—tried it on yourself either?”
Elphaba’s thin green fingers peeked out from between the blanket, curled around the fuzz. “I thought—it would be so sad for me to know. Can’t you understand that? I’d always be wondering.”
Glinda could sort of see what she meant. How tragic it would be, to touch yourself and make yourself come, but to wonder what it would be like for someone else to touch you. To never find out what that was like. As if longing, your whole life, for the untouchable union of sex and only knowing the false, lonely version.
“You could have a sex life,” she tried tentatively, heart suddenly skipping in her chest. She’d always assumed Elphaba wasn’t ever interested in interpersonal—well, interpersonal anything, really. Elphaba certainly acted as if that was the case.
Elphaba scoffed, her eyes flashing. “Me,” she said, her voice dead and flat. “Go to bed, Glinda.”
Glinda’s heart plummeted. “Elphaba—I just had sex with you.”
Elphaba turns away from Glinda, reaching over to pull the string on her bedside lamp. In the darkness, Elphaba becomes nothing but a shape, her back only slightly lit by Glinda’s lamp, still lit, but weak in its loneliness. “Yeah, but for what?” She turned halfway back, sort of looking over her shoulder, the silhouette of her face: brow, nose, lips, hair spilling over her hair, still tangled. “To teach me how to be the perfect girl, the kind of girl I’m never going to be.”
For a moment, Glinda didn’t know what the hell to say.
She’d been so stupid. She didn’t think Elphaba would really be interested in sex. With increasing incredulity, she reviewed what she’d thought—that Elphaba had never wanted to waste the time on pleasure, that she would think of sexual pleasure as a frivolous sidestep on her way to grander things. That she’d only let Glinda touch her as a learning experience.
And the whole time, Elphaba had thought Glinda was trying to turn her into someone else, someone more acceptable. As if Elphaba wasn’t exactly who she was supposed to be, every minute of every day. Exactly who she was supposed to be.
Elphaba had been thinking this would be the only way she’d ever be touched: by some self-righteous girl in a pity campaign, trying fruitlessly to teach her to be more like everyone else.
Elphaba was so awkward because she was so honest, she could never be anything but herself. Glinda could be anything, she thought, and had spent her whole life lying in little ways. She was gracious, she was beautiful, she was emotionally untouchable or deceptively frank depending on what she needed to be. Letting people believe whatever was most helpful to her.
She’d let Elphaba believe she wanted to fix her, because it was the safest way to get closer to her, and Elphaba pulled her in, helpless.
Glinda got up, walked around the bed so that she was standing in front of Elphaba. “You are the perfect girl,” she said quietly, after too long a pause.
Elphaba’s face was shadowed, but Glinda could see the flash of white as Elphaba bared her teeth. “I’m not—shut up, Glinda—” She cut Glinda off as Glinda opened her mouth. “I’m not ever going to be, either. I’m never going to be anything like you, alright? Look at me! I’m out of the running for that kind of title!”
“Elphaba—”
Elphaba stood, jabbing a finger at Glinda’s chest, stepping into her space. “I can’t be the ‘before’ picture to your miracle working—”
Glinda raised her hands placatingly. “Elphie—”
“Because there is no possibly acceptable ‘after’ that I can become—!”
Glinda seized Elphaba’s face with both hands and kissed her.
It was messy and awkward, and it took Glinda a terrifying second to realize that Elphaba, pushing her face up towards Glinda’s mouth, was kissing her back. She’d probably never kissed anyone before, Glinda realized, which was why it was so hard to tell that was what she was doing.
Her heart froze and then stuttered back into motion.
She parted her lips slightly, turned her head, and caught Elphaba’s lip between her own—and Elphaba copied her. She was always a quick learner, Elphaba was. This was a kiss.
When they parted, Elphaba’s eyes glinted in the dark, staring, her mouth still slightly open.
“I’m sorry,” Glinda said, still holding Elphaba’s face, “I should have been honest.”
Elphaba seemed to try to hold her, keep her from turning away, which Glinda didn’t have any plans to do anyway: she curled her fingers around the curves of Glinda’s elbows, clutching them tight. “About what?”
Glinda took a deep breath. Elphaba hadn’t said anything about wanting Glinda, and Glinda wasn’t in the habit of taking gambles, not when she was so good at playing the game safely.
But maybe it was time to go in. All or nothing.
“I like you just like this.” The confession felt like shrugging off the weight of months from her shoulders. She found that regardless of Elphaba’s reaction, she’d still be glad she’d said it. Who would’ve known? “I just wanted a reason to touch you.”
Elphaba’s hands tightened around her elbows. “Oh,” she said, flat and blank.
Glinda let her hands fall from Elphaba’s face. “Oh?” she echoed.
Elphaba’s brow was creased, the face she got when she was concentrating very hard, watching Glinda tensely. “Can—do you think you’d want to show me how to—touch you too, then?”
Oh thank goodness.
Glinda released a breath. “Yes.”
And with a push to Elphaba’s shoulder, again, she sent them both toppling back onto the bed.