Elphie's forwardness should've been quite frightful, especially after the previous struggle of wanting to throw Glinda out, then not, then again, and now - again - not. However, somehow, Glinda understood this so clearly as if she herself was stuck in Elphaba's boots. And maybe, to a part she was - if not in the same boots, then the same boat. Maybe she knew exactly how Elphaba felt because she shared the feeling with her, this subdued, long-nourished longing that now suddenly sprung to the surface as if it had just waited with certainty and patience for its moment to come. Maybe she had known, somewhere deep inside, that all this wonder and amazement as to what Elphaba might look like beneath that silly frock was more than simple curiosity... that the cheerfulness she felt when a wave of Elphaba's oil would cross the room towards her bed wasn't just because she liked the scent...<br/><br/>Glinda could feel her tears on her cheeks which were further nourished by those from Elphaba joining them, feel the small chest against her own, the needy hands holding her possessively. It was exactly what she wanted to feel - she wanted Elphaba to cling to her and pour that passion over her, and she wanted to return it on an equal level. She had to, or she would explode.<br/><br/>The delicate play on her spine and neck gave Glinda goosebumps that rippled over her arms and back like a spreading infection. Her own hands rose higher, as if their pressure was needed to hold Elphaba down and close, crawled under the curtain of black hair between Elphaba's shoulder blades and locked her in a secure embrace. It didn't matter that she shouldn't do this, that she had scolded Biq (or was it Binq?) for just the same thing when he kissed her despite being engaged to Nessarose... it didn't matter right now because this was worth much more than some old, dusty engagement.<br/>