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. :)

Xena stood up quickly and gracefully, without so much as scooting the chair back. In fact, it seemed she'd hardly looked in Gabrielle's direction. The bard thought she remembered seeing the darkly powerful warrior's hand fall to the table to grab the cup. Now, with the whip wrapped tightly (not too tightly) around her belly, she realized that had been an optical illusion.

The red head was glad to see she wasn't the only one who'd been startled from the hypnotic haze of the last few moments. Her heart was still beating fast from the sound the whip made as it snapped out and around her. Xena held onto the other end, her hand curled neatly around the handle, her lips twisted in that smirk she sometimes gets.

For the first time in a long time, Gabrielle felt the dangling weight of her earrings. That was an auxiliary sensation to sharp awarenesses that flickered through her brain. The whip, leather and, in a way, impersonal, translated itself to her as Xena's arms. Perhaps no one else may feel this way, but for the moment, the "slave" felt as if she were held securely in Xena's arms and was being most lovingly hugged. . .and dragged.

Not that she'd been very far. Her body, which had practically taken over during the dance, had brought her fairly close to her lover. Certainly her mind, which could have been focused on what was going on around the room (and now, with Xena's sharply powerful action, the bard actually had a space in her brain to register the startled looks of Iolaus), had only been focused on how beautiful and powerful and sexy Xena was at that moment. Apparently that was a mistake. It was in *this* moment that Xena's power was evident.

Even so, caught like this, in her lover's thinly elongated embrace, Gabrielle's body continued to sing and sway to the music (though sweet sounds had fallen silent at the startling crack that reverberated through the room). Her arms raised themselves. Her fingers snapped. She didn't try to swirl, except to the slow motion of Xena's pull. She was awake enough not to *want* to resist the delicious tug of her lover's hands.

She could only imagine what others were seeing. Herself, all she saw was Xena. While her brain kind of registered the long curvy body of her lover, it mostly was occupied with falling into a fiery blue pools of lightning that threatened to consume everything she was with their power.

Gabrielle was ready to be consumed, absorbed, drunk in. Each step she took in mock reluctance brought her closer to her lover. The fair small woman did have enough in her, barely, to remember that she was supposed to be somewhat recalcitrant, but the reality of that attitude had faded away in the dance. Now all she wanted was to be taken, and with some haste, if at all possible.

Hand over hand, Xena pulled the bard, smiling that wickedly knowing smile of hers. The statuesque warrior had become part of the dance and she was performing for the audience. But here was the great secret. Warlords were always performing. Her lips quirked up. She could feel the challenges happening, as the toughs around her tried to boast their way into superiority.

She didn't have to boast. She was already superior in every way. She didn't have to perform to their rules, and they knew it. But she'd just upped the ante for them. She could hear the servants being summoned, this time for different purposes than serving food. Now, along with the other contests, there would be challenges of virility. There always was anyhow, with each new "contest" that was started. They would lose. None would match her; not in tests of skill, strength or seduction.

Hercules, whom she was beginning to have some suspicions about, was sitting up in his chair. She could feel the hot flame of his gaze. Well, with Gabrielle's cooperation, or not, it was time to give him something to look at. The smirk deepened, and her gaze narrowed. Not that it seemed she was going to have a problem with that.

Gabrielle's nipples were painfully taut. Her breathing had become that of a lover's, rapid and humid. She thought, if Xena spoke the word, she'd shiver in orgasm in that very moment. The warrior, however, did not say the word. She didn't say anything, but rather, when Gabrielle had finally come to a halt bare inches in front of her, the warrior seemed to tower over her. The bard could feel the heat of the dark leathers, smell them. She wanted, in that instance to press against the Warlord, but it wasn't to be. Instead she was transfixed by the olive skinned woman's gaze. Xena looked for all the world like she was going to kiss Gabrielle. Gabrielle whimpered, quite unconsciously and the Warlord's smile thinned in conquest.

The whip's lean length, extended from Xena's powerful grip, now lay curled upon the ground. The warlords, even the mock ones, were forgotten. Gabrielle was only aware of the pounding of her heart and the plead in her eyes. Gods please, hazel eyes begged.

Others might have thought she was pleading for release. They would have been right. She was most silently crying for it, but not the kind they imagined.

She felt the caress before she even registered that Xena's free hand had moved. A rough thumb covered the vividly sensitive point of Gabrielle's apparent desire and flicked. Again. Oh that breast was much abused. But the liquid sensation of the brief pain poured deliciously through her and became the promise. Gabrielle's eyelids which had flickered down because she'd gotten too lost in Xena's gaze and had become frightened, immediately opened in startled awareness.

That's when those ruby soft lips descended and pierced Gabrielle to her very core. The bard's soul toppled into that kiss, but if she'd thought it was to be liberation, she'd been most sorely mistaken. Her hair was firmly grasped and pulled into Xena's fist. Her lips were bruised and entrance demanded (and given). She cried out as if she were wounded (if you count cupid's constant assault as a wound) and everything that she was, save for one thing, disappeared into the fire that Xena built. Whatever else happened that night, Gabrielle had been claimed.