Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked.

… I don't know what got into me today xD I've been re-reading this book and just before I fell asleep last night, this fanfic hit me. I was surprised I remembered it when I woke up xD I wrote this in like 20 minutes at school while I was supposed to be studying for my earth science test, so sorry if it sucks. It was kinda funny; I thought of the title first, which I never do. For some reason "Thinking of You" by Katy Perry popped into my head, so I was like, "OMG THAT'S PERFECT." xD I've been really stressed lately too so I suppose this was a result of the stress… anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy!

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The figure in the oratory hunched over with the weight of her meditation. The soft light from the only window fell on its' dark clothes as if trying to illuminate them. A gentle, rhythmic clinking rang out as its' green hands went through the rosary beads. Elphaba of course didn't use the beads for prayer, as she didn't believe in the Unnamed God, nor in any faith. She merely found the sound a comforting focal point for her thoughts, which were hardly appropriate for prayer, church, or whatever might be up there anyway.

Her eyes flicked up to the saints' likeness on the wall. It was stained, somewhat ill-maintained - not at all like her. The eyes closed, the head bowed lower, as she called her memory back. Glinda. Beautiful, blonde, conflicted, good, vain, compassionate, perfect Glinda: sprawled naked on the bed, totally at Elphabas' mercy. She grinned down through the dark at Elphaba who, also naked, kneeled on the floor beside the bed. The green girl smiled back as her fingers entered her friends' pink opening, slowly, teasingly. The blonde closed her eyes, arched her back, and moaned –

"Elphaba!" The physical sound of her name made her flinch, drop the memory, shatter the pristine picture of the past. She turned. Fiyero. She deflected him, immensely irritated. She tried to give him the slip on the way home. He followed with the stupid persistence of men. Something gave in her as she let him fall through her front door, letting him inside. Human contact was something she craved, though she had told herself many times she didn't need it.

That was exactly what she thought the first time she and Fiyero had sex. She had gone without, denied herself for so long, she'd ceased to realize it was a need.

When Fiyero commented there had been no blood the first time, Elphaba shrugged. The memory of that real first time came back to her: Her hands violently clutched the sheets, gasping as her hips bucked wildly of their own accord, feeling that she would surely die caught in the throes of pleasure and pain. Glinda held up her stained fingers and murmured, "Oh, Elphie…" before kissing her delicately, calming her racing heart.

Every time Fiyeros' hands started to move below her waist, she panicked and moved them back up. Elphaba knew if he went too far, it would be her name she screamed instead of his. Talk about awkward. Besides, no one else knew about her and Glinda. It was their own secret; their own dark, intimate warmth of hidden kisses behind the curtains and muffled screams in the pillows late at night. It had been absolutely wrenching to say goodbye to her angel. She had managed to keep the tears in until after she'd turned away from the carriage. For once, she let them run freely down her face. She would endure the burning of her own tears, and a lot more, for Glinda.

Though Elphaba grew to love Fiyero in his own right, it was never really him she made love to.

"Every time I'm with him," thought Elphaba at his side each night, almost religiously, before she fell asleep, "I am thinking of you."

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