So this is some fun, Fiyeraba fluff. I needed a break from stewing over the upcoming complexity of A Time for Rain.

Disclaimer: This is rated High-T for sexual content. You have been sufficiently warned if that's not your thing. The content is at about the same level of some parts of Black & White.

Also, a big thank you to TillITryIllNeverKnow for nominating me for the FanFic awards. I'm honored, seriously.

Enjoy.

They ran until they collapsed, their chests heaving in gasping breaths from the effort of their desperate escape. Fiyero struggled for air. His lungs burned, his limbs tingled from the sheer effort of motion, and the darkness spun around him. Slowly, he began to make out the shapes of the trees around them. He recognized the dark quoxwood, and logic placed them somewhere in the Great Gillikin Forest.

Elphaba had flown them as far as she dared, until she feared the broom might give out. She also worried they might be tracked from the ground in the clear skies over Gillikin. Losing themselves on foot in the depths of the thick forest seemed safer, somehow.

Fiyero finally allowed himself to focus on her.

Elphaba had collapsed to her knees, her hands digging into the soft grass of the forest floor. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. He simply stared, taking in the wildness of her. She almost blended with her surroundings, as though the forest was made around her, as a backdrop for her. Her face gleamed, opalescent in the full moonlight. Her hair had pulled itself loose and flew in disarray, and her great, patchwork dress glinted black and red. She could disappear here. She most likely had disappeared here on many occasions. The forest could envelope her in a way it could for no one else.

Fiyero started to speak, rising to his feet. It was quiet, with only the twittering sounds of the natural world, and he realized he might owe some sort of explanation. After all, he had left his own engagement party. He'd left the pride and prestige of a good position, and he had never been one to run against the law. She must consider him altogether unsuitable as her companion in revolution and espionage.

Yet before he could offer his somewhat pathetic explanation that he thought he might love her, she stood and pulled the pin from her hair. It was an innocent gesture, as it fell around her beneath the brim of her hat. She shook the heavy, black tresses as she pulled leaves and twigs from the hopeless tangles. Fiyero stood, unmovable, as Elphaba went on, blissfully unaware of her powerful sexuality.

He would never regret his choice. In the moment, he was certain. To see her like this was worth whatever might follow. A lifetime of plastered smiles and lukewarm affection in the safety of a gilded palace could never have equaled this.

Fiyero went to her suddenly, characteristically acting without thinking. He plunged his hands into that glorious hair and Elphaba jumped a little as he effectively stopped her from replacing the hairpin. He expected her to wrench away from him, to push him backward and perhaps mutter an unintelligible spell that would turn him into a rock. He could only assume she wasn't often touched. Yet she turned soul-searching eyes on him and did not pull away.

They stood that way for a moment, and he recognized she smelled of smoldering flame, of nature and dewy grass, and something exotic that made her hair soft and intoxicating. The perfume and powder of Glinda seemed far away as Elphaba finally spoke.

"You could've run away back there," She echoed the same words she'd once spoken when they were only school mates.

Fiyero considered her for a moment, "I suppose I wasn't as happy as I pretended to be," He conceded.

It was quiet then, and the air between them nearly crackled. The spark from so long ago, on another day in a similar forest, was now a mighty flame, roaring, approaching, and unstoppable.

Suddenly she was kissing him, pressing her body into his with a fierceness that caught him off guard. Having always been the one to take the initiative with the demure, polished women of his past, he was floored by the aggression, the passion and purpose with which she pressed herself into him. And he wanted her, in a way that was carnal and holy and more complicated than he'd thought was possible for him.

When she finally pulled back, she pressed her hands against his chest for a moment and considered her words. Then she looked up at him, with those dark, brooding eyes and spoke.

"Make love to me. Make me real. Make me feel. Make me more than just the Wicked Witch of the West. Make me a woman."

Her voice was gravelly, breathy and sensual, and yet in her eyes was a longing, and a deep need. Fiyero could see the abyss of emptiness that remained, despite her awe-inspiring power. He held in his arms the greatest sorceress Oz had ever known, the woman who inspired such fear, and yet the depth of her need for him was humbling.

He pulled her in to him and kissed her full on her soft, parted lips, and then pulled away and pulled her hat from her head.

He tossed it aside and said, "Tonight, you are Elphaba. Nothing more, and absolutely nothing less."

She took in his meaning, and he could see her trying to grasp the value she had to him. So he kissed her again, because words were simply not enough.

They tumbled together onto the soft earth, and he pulled the cloak from her shoulders and spread it beneath them. Fiyero worked his hands over the bodice of her dress and pulled up the heavy skirts to find her body beneath. There wasn't time to shed all their clothes, and a part of him feared being ambushed in the throws of passion without a stitch of clothing to flee in. So he compromised, surprised at the surreal feeling of this blind exploration of her.

He worked his hands up her thighs, allowing her to kick off her shoes as he pulled the undergarments from her body. Her skin was dizzyingly soft, and he fought with self control as she arched her back and pulled her hands through her hair. He allowed one hand to dip between her thighs, to tenderly touch and explore.

Elphaba sucked in a quick breath, and her eyes smoldered at the powerful nature of the feeling.

"Sweet Oz," She muttered, "I never…" She trailed off as she let her eyes close momentarily.

It was almost too much for him, seeing her in the grip of passion and pleasure and knowing it was because of him. He wanted her in a raw, aching, all-consuming way that made him feel as though he'd never been with a woman, or perhaps never really taken the time to see one.

Elphaba pulled at his shirt, and he pulled it over his head and flung it away. She ran her long, exquisite fingers over his bare skin, and his body flushed and ached and responded. He groaned a little and buried his face in her neck, kissing the tender skin beneath her hair and taking in that wild scent that made his head spin.

She wound her fingers in his hair and pulled him back just enough so she could speak, "Make love to me," She nearly begged, yet her tone was strong, "and don't hold back. Because if this is our only time together, I never want to be the same. Ever again."

The intensity in her voice nearly drove him over the edge.

Fiyero hitched up her skirts a little more and undid his trousers. He parted her lips with his tongue and kissed her deeply, longingly. He wound one hand behind her head and pressed himself into her, feeling her clutch his shoulders at the new sensation. He looked into her eyes and saw no uncertainty, no hesitation.

Sweet Oz, she's beyond all expectation, all explanation…

He moved against her, bracing himself with his hands, which were wound in her hair. She closed her eyes and her lips parted slightly, and so he kissed them, over and over. He watched the rise and fall of her body and felt the warmth of her hands as they slid down his back. Despite the cool air, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead from the effort their lovemaking. Elphaba dug her fingernails into the small of his back and he let out a low moan as his body tightened and filled and ached in a way that frightened him a little.

Just as Fiyero felt his body reach the precipice of climax, Elphaba made a low noise in her throat and opened her eyes. She held his gaze with a frightening intensity and slid her hands down beneath his trousers to his bare buttocks. She pulled him even deeper into her, and all sense left him as the rushing release of climax mixed with the warm grip of her hands on his bare skin. He cried out and trembled, and collapsed onto her with his arms wound tightly around her body.

In the midst of the throbbing waves of pleasure, he felt her body tighten and pulse around him. She whimpered a little, and her breath came in quick gasps against his cheek. The sensation of her body responding to his forced one last, great wave of pleasure through him, and then he rested against her, listening to her heart pound beneath him.

When Fiyero could finally raise his head to look at her, she was studying the sky, a faraway look in her eyes.

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, and whispered, "What is it?"

Elphaba studied the sky for a moment longer, and then met his eyes. "It's just that for the first time, in all my life…" She started.

He waited for her to find her thoughts.

"I feel…" She tried again.

"What?"

"Wicked."

And with that one word, she kissed him again, their bodies still melded together, their hearts beating against each other in the borrowed moonlight.