Warlord Daze

The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights. If you don't agree or disapprove, please go read something else.

Xex Alert: Oh Boy Is There. .This is a Prurient Piece with a Bit of Kink (If you hear the crack of the whip then you'll be in the neighborhood) Proceed at your own risk. :)

The first rejection of Xena's proposals arrived four days later, two days after Itylcus left. Of course, it was a warlord. Philomon. His was a bitter rejection, raging, a declaration of war. Xena had expected it They had bad blood between them. She'd hoped he would be able to put aside his anger to meet Hercules' threat. Obviously not. Some people have long memories. It wasn't her fault his lover was an idiot. The man should have quit while he was down. Instead, he'd tried to knife her in the back. Like she'd let that happen.

Xena sighed as she read the note, contemplating how she was going to tell Gabrielle. It would be necessary to fight Philo, maybe hand to hand, but probably army to army. They'd have to split the force, which would have happened eventually, but she'd not wanted to start so early. The warlord tapped her chin with the edge of the scroll for a moment and looked thoughtful, even as her body seemed at rest.

Moments later, Gabrielle observed people scurrying out of the command tent with intense, almost excited, expressions on their faces. She felt something happen in her heart which dropped to her stomach and knew with a flash of certainty it was beginning. It was beginning.

And now she had a choice to make. Did she demand to go with her warrior turned warlord? Did she stay at camp? In her mind's eye, she played out the consequences for each decision so quickly, that her eventual choice was almost an intuitive one. She knew if she went there would be blood on her hands. She wasn't up to resisting the pull just yet. She was still too new to the sensation, though she knew she would have to face the feeling, and its results, sometime.

Sometime, but. . .but, it didn't have to be this time. Which meant she could take one burden off of a certain warrior woman's shoulders. She slid into the command tent as neat as you please, weaving in as another left, taking her position behind the gorgeously dark woman. Gabrielle's expression remained calm even as she watched and listened to her lover's instructions on how to split the camp.

Doba was listening just as intently. The tall warrior hated being left behind, but the movement of the troops was just too important to be left in inexperienced hands. She glanced ruefully, quickly down at her dark fingers which covered the corner edge of the map. Not that her hands were very experienced. This was normally Nisus purview. Perhaps she could ask for help, from someone who knew.

She glanced up at the slave, whose impassive gaze did nothing to hide the deep intelligence, the gentle humor that resided within. Oh that one was a passionate one alright, as if Anyone in the camp was clueless about that. Her mouth twitched in memory of the sounds she'd heard while passing their tent the other night. That impassive gaze must be something the Amazons practiced, for it certainly hid a multitude of secrets. She would get Lia to show her someday.

There was a part of Doba which wondered who had really won the battle when the beautiful Warlord fought the Amazons. The Queen had surrendered? That must have been some surrender. The warlord might have won the ransom, yet, if one were to ask her, the Queen had won the war. The Amazons were free, the warlord was. . if not tamed, no threat to their nation, and the Queen. .well, she might be a slave, but was there anyone who would treat her as such? Not in this camp. And how better to stay together, if one was a warlord? What better disguise to those who didn't understand love? OH and those two, the dark and the light, were so deep in love there was no pulling them apart. Doba had a hidden thought and wondered, who was the slave in the Amazon's nation? Yes, she would ask the slave, the Queen, for help. With that firm commitment, she continued to listen to the warlord's instructions and let the flutter of nervousness pass.

Doba left the tent at Xena's behest not too much later. Another tried to enter the tent, but was blocked by a long arm. "Come Aedal, there are things to see to."

"But I have," Gabrielle's cousin began. His head turning to meet the other's gaze.

"It can wait Aedal." She stared down into sea green eyes until the young man clued.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Uhm, you're right. It can wait."

That same long arm wrapped around his shoulder in friendly gesture, "Why don't we go catch lunch and talk about what you're going to do for me at Philomon's." She smiled a catlike grin.

"Me?!!" Aedal's voice raised a pitch, "Now wait a minute. . ." and faded away.

Inside the tent there was a rich silence. Xena turned to face her bard, her expression solemn. How was she going to explain this? How could she justify what she knew was about to happen? Why she needed Gabrielle to stay. . .

"I shall miss you." The bard's tone was soft, tender. For once Xena's face registered surprise. The bard flowed in her direction, wrapping strong arms around the warlord's waist. "I will worry." Kind fingers stroked Xena's face lovingly. "I always worry when you are too far from me." She traced the outline of the warlord's lips, and Xena finally found the space to wrap her own arms around the bard's waist and blue eyes gazed down in amazement. "But I know you will do the best you can. I trust that. I trust you." Hazel eyes glowed with the light of truth. "Come back to me." The red head stood up on her toes and touched her mouth to Xena's. "Come back to me." The bard's mouth opened and probed, seeking the promise.

Gabrielle's hands moved down Xena's waist to her thighs, then up and under the leather skirt until they clasped at the top edge of Xena's briefs. The bard grinned into their kiss, her lips tickled as she spoke, "I'm hungry for you now, I'll be starved for you when you get back." Xena moaned as she felt her breeches begin a slow descent.

The red head's lips left the warlord's and began tracing the outline of the dark woman's jaw. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" Lips drew a path down the long line of Xena's neck. "I love you." A whisper of a kiss against the hollow of Xena's throat. "I honor you." Honor? Xena'd never heard that before. It set something warm and full into her heart. Honor.

The bard's mouth left off their distracting work and Xena realized that her breeches which had been almost mid thigh were now quickly making their way further down. As was Gabrielle. The warrior's knees were suddenly weak and she felt her butt touch down softly against the edge of the table. She felt a burst of humor. Looked like Gabrielle was beating her to it.

The warlord gasped when familiar lips, now skilled, touched against her sex. Gods. A hot, wet tongue teased against her folds, pulling a sweet moan from Xena's lips. Then it fell in, searching, tasting, filling. Xena's hands grasped the edge of the table as she spread her legs a little wider. The bard's hands wrapped around her thighs as the warlord tilted her head back. Her hips began to delicately moving, responding to Gabrielle's tender ravishment, increasing in tempo as the bard increased hers.

Xena felt the tightness of her desire, the shuddering openness, claim her. She let one hand seek, while the other supported. She touched the bard's hair and shoulders lovingly, reaching for what she could and at some point, when she couldn't help it, she held the bard's head and began truly rocking against that willing mouth. "Oh gods, Gabrielle, Gods." She cried as she felt the beginning sweetness. She shattered wetly into sparkles and was remade.

The bard held her position until the last tremors ceased, then gently scooted the breeches back up and rolled up from her kneel. Gabrielle's mouth claimed Xena's in wet and salty ownership. "Come back to me." Xena wrapped strong arms around the bard and pulled the fair woman against her chest in a powerful hug. Who could deny an incentive like that? The warrior promised with her kiss.

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