One-shot Glinda/Fiyero smut, with strong overtones of Glinda/Elphaba, Fiyero/Elphaba, and Glinda/Elphaba/Fiyero.
They both knew why they were there. Fiyero had made it clear from the start, but Galinda—no, Glinda, now—rarely dropped the pretenses they had conceived and admitted the truth, even to Fiyero. Even to herself.
It was usually in bed, late at night, when he could coax her into admitting why she loved him: not a maturation of their younger, more childish quick affair at Shiz, and not out of a real respect or adoration of him now. Glinda loved him because he reminded her of the past, and the one person she had loved.
Her kisses would grow desperate. "Please," she begged. "Remind me how, that one time—" He kissed her, to quiet her. Well, he was with her in name, publicly announced, and the only way he could have any relief would be to give in. Fiyero wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tight, and kissed her.
"I'm still not sure how we talked her into going," the story started, the same as it always did. "The Philosophy club wasn't any place she approved of." Fiyero slid his hand over Glinda's breasts, teasing her nipples through the sheer nightgown. "But she was there, just the same, and we three were called up to the stage." It was always like this. Glinda arched into his hand, and he felt himself getting hard against her hip.
"She looked so angry, and scared, and proud," Glinda interjected, just like she always did once he stopped teasing her and pinched one nipple between thumb and forefinger.
"Yes. And you laid down, legs spread." He nudged her knees apart with one of his own, pushing her onto her back. Glinda smiled wanly, and complied, the hem of her nightgown barely covering her hips now. "I watched her glance over you—" he glanced over her, and wished she had fewer curves—"and then settled onto her knees between your legs. Like an animal. Or Animal."
Glinda groaned softly, and tilted her hips up. Her voice had gone breathy. "Yes. And she smiled, a real smile, and kissed down one of my thighs." She found his hand, and urged him to trail his fingers down a well-known path towards her now-wet cunt. Fiyero complied.
"I watched her lean in, and suck your clit into her mouth," he pinched lightly, she gasped, "It looked like she was trying to devour you whole. It made me want you both." That, they both knew, was a lie. Never the less, he pushed his trousers down and slid into Glinda. She arched beneath him, and wrapped one leg around his waist. It did feel nice, just not…the same. "I pushed my cock into her, just like I'm doing to you now, as she kneeled over you and made you shudder."
It didn't take long—their nights together were never long. Glinda arched up against him again, and begged him to come with her. Fiyero smiled sadly, and did.
"Elphie!"
After, once he had pulled his trousers back up, and her nightgown back down, he held her and she cried. She always cried when they were done. And when she had cried herself to sleep, their beloved's name on her lips, Fiyero would let himself finish the story: "And then our dear Elphaba came into your room, turning a magnificent shade of violet-green with embarrassment. She tried to back out of the room, avoiding my eyes. You screamed out her name, coming. She fled.
"We, neither of us, had the nerve to tell her that the encounter had been born out of a desire for her, fantasies of going someplace like the Philosophy club, where we could have her without regrets. So, later when I was gone and you were alone, you told her you said her name in anger for walking in. And two weeks later, she left you alone in a carriage."
Fiyero curled up around Glinda, who was too curvy and warm and bright for real comfort, and allowed himself the luxury of crying himself to sleep.