Warm Whispers, PG-13, by toss_toss_love
We were silent as we made our way out of the palace. I felt both underwhelmed and overwhelmed. I had expected the Wizard to do something - something more than question us and then send us out on our merry way with a cryptic message. Yet, at the same time, my brain scrutinized every detail of our pointless meeting. Or was it so pointless, after all? Was he trying to telling us something? If he was, what was it? If he wasn’t, well, back to square one.
I glanced over at Glinda. She had the glazed look on her face that I had come to associate as her “deep-thinking face”. I wondered what exactly she was thinking, but didn’t dare to break the silence. I didn’t want to talk for once and she seemed to be in a similar mood.
We were walking closely together. So close that every third step or so, our knuckles would brush. It made my heart flutter every time. I wanted to hold her hand and the thought scared me more than the Wizard’s inaction. Naturally, I just kept on walking with my face straight ahead; secretly dying every millisecond I didn’t feel her skin on mine.
I noticed a couple sitting outside a café. They were whispering softly, their lips barely moving. Foreheads, shoulders, thighs touching. Their fingers laid, entangled, on the table. They didn’t see past each other’s eyes. I blushed and looked away. I felt like a spy, learning a secret, but not understanding it.
Then, I felt tapered fingers thread with mine and a foreign warmth against my palm. I stopped and stared at the dichotomy of peach and green. The sight was beautiful and disturbing. My heart thundered in my chest and the eyes of the world were staring at me - at us. I trailed the curve of her wrist to the line of her arm to the grace of her shoulder and, finally, to the wonder that was her face. She looked back at me with expectancy and a hint of curiosity.
She tugged me gently, reeling me in. I stumbled the half-step separating us and instinctively grasped her shoulder for balance. Her other hand came up to my waist to steady me. Even after I stood firmly on my own two feet, she left her hand there. I left mine. I could felt her hot breath on my chin. My throat was suddenly dry and I compulsively licked my lips. She gasped. My knees wobbled at the sound.
I angled my head down to look into her eyes. At the same time, she moved her head up. Our noses brushed. Then, our cheeks. We leaned against one another. Her head slipped into the juncture between my neck and shoulder. Our chests rose and fell in tandem. My head was heavy, so I rested it atop hers. I let out a shaky breath as she nuzzled my neck.
“Glinda.” My voice was hoarse. I felt her shudder against me.
With her lips resting on my neck, she shushed me. The vibration spread throughout my body. I bit my lip to stop a moan. Her hand squeezed mine. We stood there, like that, for seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, years, an eternity. Time didn’t make sense anymore. I didn’t want it to.
She stepped back and I nearly cried. She squeezed my hand once more and then, led me back to the shabby hotel we were staying at. I let her pull me up the stairs and into our room. Her hand burning in mine the entire way.
The next morning, I woke up to the blank wall and cried. I wanted to scream, punch the wall, and maybe throw some glass. I didn’t. Glinda was sleeping peacefully not a millimeter away. I swiped at my searing tears with a blanket-covered hand. This was the end of what could have been and I was going to cherish every last moment.
I turned and stared at her pale shoulder. Then, I pulled her body into mine and breathed the sweet scent of her hair. My hand slid across the flat plane of her stomach, meeting my other hand which had slipped under her. They locked and brought us even closer. I tangled my long legs with her shorter ones and connected our hips. From head-to-toe I felt Glinda next to me. I rubbed my nose against her, and then ghosted my lips over her skin. Her hands moved to rest on mine. I kissed away the tears leaking from her closed eyes, relishing in the slow burn. I left a lingering kiss on her shoulder.
I unclasped my hands; hers fell limp on the bed. We lost contact as she turned to lie on her back. She turned her head to the side. I leant over her and brought my lips to her ear. I whispered three words.
Weak and selfish, I touched my lips to hers. I kissed her tenderly. I needed more. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and let all my passion pour out. I cupped her head with one hand and laced my other with one of her hands. Our nightgowns rustled against one another. Lost in the here and now, my thigh slipped between her legs. I rubbed my body against hers; seeking the friction we always had in a completely new way. This was how she woke.