Posting this today for Eva from Brazil who sent me a nice PM. I'll respond to you soon, Eva!

Thank you to everyone else who has reviewed and been so kind and supportive. You're all truly wonderful. Here's a special chapter. Hope you love it.

Fiyero was trying to read. He really was. But there were two problems: the first was the book he was trying to read was exceptionally boring and was putting him to sleep, and the second was Elphaba Thropp was spread out at a library table nearby by herself and she kept fidgeting.

She had been there for hours, preparing for the first of dozens of tests that plagued the last few weeks of the semester; he for half as long, but the more time that passed the more she would reach a hand up to her shoulder to rub out a growing knot or turn her neck about, trying to alleviate some tension.

And all he could think about was how effectively he could relieve that tension for her.

He shook his head, trying to focus back on his economics textbook. This particular page had a graph on it that was supposed to straightforwardly illustrate aggregate demand, which told the total quantity of goods and services consumers, businesses, and governments demanded in an economy at a given price level. In the particular model presented, one curve described the equilibrium in the market for goods and services where Y = C(Y - T) + I(r) + G and another curve showed equilibrium in the money market where M/P = L(r,Y), all of which existed in a plane where the interest rate, r, and Y, being both income and output—

She groaned quietly, and Fiyero's eyes snapped up from the text to see her stretching her neck again, her long, skillful fingers running across the back of it until they slid down, languidly, down her front to her low neckline. Her hair fell away from her shoulder as she moved, exposing the long column of her throat to the light and his darkening eyes.

He didn't move; he remained a voyeur, salivating as he wished his fingers could replace her wandering ones, but as she turned about, desperate to ease the pain that built up from having her head hung over books for hours, he could see her face taut, yearning for a release that would not come.

He didn't even remember putting down his heavy tome or crossing the room, but he was there, his fingers dancing across the thin strap of her dark dress, more teasing than touching as they ran down her arms and back again, until they came to pull her long, thick, smooth hair away from what he craved. His hands, which burned against her cool skin, settled flush against her stiff shoulders.

Elphaba slackened and fell back against him. "Thank you…" she groaned breathlessly as he applied pressure to the curve of her shoulder, finding the knots that had plagued her for hours. Every new one he discovered caused her react physically and vocally until his mind was barely functioning, but he persisted until she was soft and limp. But even then, he couldn't stop and she didn't ask him to, so his hands continued to rub her body, touching every inch of her back and pushing down her sides until he could feel the muscles of her abdomen contract reactively under the pads of his fingers.

All the while he watched her as her face changed and her breath quickened with each touch. She was warm now, but she shivered as his hands caressed her slender waist and up until his hands covered the stretched fabric of her dress across her chest, where he continued to massage her until she gasped his name.

It unraveled him. He hauled her to her feet and attacked her neck hungrily, trailing hot kisses up it and along her jaw, and though she whimpered as his palm left her chest, it was so he could reach up and turn her head to have her lips. The kiss was immediately searing, overwhelming, and the fact that she was responding back like this made him want more, so much more. Her dress was thin and smooth, leaving little to his imagination except for the feeling of her unique skin. He reached down to rectify this problem, finding the hem of her skirt near her knees and slipping underneath it to grip her bare thigh. There was a bench between their knees but it didn't stop him from drawing her in until she was heavy upon his front. She clutched at him for fear of losing her balance, digging into the flesh of his forearm at her waist and at the back of his head, and he gripped her back just as fiercely.

"Everyone's watching," she murmured into his mouth, and he broke the kiss over her shoulder to see the dozens of eyes blinking at them from every angle of the library.

"I don't care," he said between heavy breaths, the hand that was not gliding up her hip under her slip began pulling at the strap of her dress from her collar impatiently, wanting nothing in the way of his eager mouth. A dull, pleasurable pain registered as he felt her fist clench at his hair in response to his nibbles against her sensitive neck but rather than yank him away but she whispered, "Good," and turned about in his arms. Fiyero kissed her again deeply, fervently, hungrily, crashing her against the hard, wooden surface behind her with his heavy form and impatient hands. All he could hear as they tore at each other was the sound of crinkling pages under them and her voice in his ear, moaning his name.

"Fiyero…Fiyero…Fiyero! Wake up!"

He snapped upright in his chair just as a crumpled up wad of paper hit him in the face, and while he could still sense Elphaba's body against him, she most definitely was feet away at her desk, appearing extremely crabby, while he was still seated in his armchair.

"Whut happene'?"

"You fell asleep and you were making these weird little noises."

He found it hard to swallow as she stared back at him but managed to choke out, "Noises?"

"Yeah, like a puppy," she said cantankerously. "It was annoying and distracting. Some people are actually using this time for something other than naps."

He rubbed at his face and felt the heat in his cheeks. "Sorry."

Elphaba sighed and gave him one last look that seemed forgiving before she returned her attention back to her studies, a hand still idly around the back of her neck.

He glanced down and thanked every single Ozian god there was that the book he had been reading had settled in his lap, where his already snug pants were stretched painfully tight. Because he was trapped there with her until he could calm himself, he mulled over aggregate demand for a while. And when the idea of curves did little to settle him down, he thought as much as he could for as long as he could about Madame Morrible's hairline, which finally did the trick.