~~
Title: Weakness
Author: Aresbitch
Summary: PWP. And fighting.
Rating: Amazingly, R for one minor word.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Just writing, nothing much to see.
~~
You hate him and you rage against him and all the while you imagine what it feels like to have his long fingers slide inside of your body, the rough rub of his beard against the inside of your thigh.
You sneer at him, gloating over your ability to deconstruct and burn his plans into ruins while you wonder what his mouth tastes like, those full lips lifted in a sneer of his own, the way you can see the tip of his shining tongue just inside his teeth.
You burn for him even when you’re fighting him.
It’s your secret, your weakness.
The villagers are looking to you to do the impossible, defeat a god. You can. If it were any other god, you could. But your eyes get caught by the play of the breeze through his black curls. The way his gauntlets wrap around his forearms.
You have the sword at his throat and yet you cannot plunge it home. It won’t kill him, you know this. He’s a god, he’d heal. But to break that golden skin, to make his blood pour like a river. You’ve done it thousands of times, taken more lives than you can ever repay and yet you can’t even pretend to hurt a god who cannot be hurt.
You’re a weak fool and he’ll see through you any second and then he’ll laugh. Laugh at the mortal fool who gets so blinded by a handsome countenance.
Only he doesn’t laugh.
And he doesn’t kill you.
He beats you. Within an inch of your life, and you’ve never felt blows so powerful, not even during the betraying gauntlet made of seasoned warriors and hardened killers.
But he drops the sword he holds against your throat. Even though you can feel the spittle from his raging diatribe against your cheek, feel the hot blast of his breath against your neck, he can’t kill you.
And your heart leaps repeatedly into your throat. Not just because you are so close to dying, although that is not a small part of things, but because you’re this close to him, his arms are around you, tight around you, and he’s got you right up to him so that every time he moves you can feel the twist and push of his hips against your ass.
Have you ever been so close to something so hot? Like a fire he burns. You want to reach out, touch that flame but you know it’ll burn you all up and you can’t let that happen. Not again.
So you take a breath and break away, and when the dust is all settled and the score’s been counted, he’s gone.
Only he’s not.
In your dreams he crowds your bedroll, pressing his naked body along your spine, turning you so that you are facing the other direction. You don’t have to look, he whispers hotly against your ear. You just have to feel.
So you close your eyes, grab fistfuls of the fur, and you pretend it’s just a dream.
The first thrust makes you howl.
~end~
Title: Hopeless
Author: Aresbitch
Summary: Back to normal.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sandbox.
Notes: I’ve had this in my head for a while but was inspired by a thread at XOC to finally put it down to ‘paper.’ AU of Gabrielle’s Hope.
~~
Xena’s unpacking the supplies they’ve managed to gather. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Xena cross back and forth in front of their fire.
There’s heat from the well tended flames, she can feel the glow against her cheek.
She can’t feel the warmth.
The ache has moved again, from her arms to her belly.
She rubs the spot, over and over, massaging the flesh that remains stretched.
“Gabrielle?” Xena’s voice intrudes and Gabrielle looks up from her study of the dirt at her feet and gazes at the other woman. “Does your belly hurt?”
She blinks at the question, considers it.
“No, Xena,” she replies softly.
Xena’s mouth hitches up into a semblance of a smile, and she glances away again, down.
“Good,” she says finally. Then she slaps her knees. “Well, it’s late,” she continues as she rises to her feet. “Let’s eat and then get some rest. It’s a long way back to
From -
Silence reins again and Gabrielle’s hand maps the ache with gentle fingers. Belly, breasts, arms. The side of her face where she rested it against Hope’s cheek.
Her chest.
There’s a wound there, still bleeding, weeping.
Her child
A tumble of fur falls in front of her eyes, and she looks up again. Xena is gazing down at her, offering her warmth.
Gabrielle thinks it will take more than fur to warm her now.
“Let’s get some rest, okay?” Xena asks softly.
She nods and gets to her feet like an old woman would, gingerly, mindful of the aches that glow under her flesh like the flames of a candle.
But instead of settling down next to Xena, Gabrielle takes her useless covers and circles the camp fire, settling down on the other side.
Xena watches her silently.
Gabrielle pulls the fur up over her shoulders, and rubs her breasts again.
Sharp pain runs down the length of muscle and vein, and she knows, from when the married women in Potadeia used to talk around their turnips and weaving, that she’s getting her milk in.
Milk for Hope.
“She was evil, Gabrielle,” a whisper carries across the flames. “A vessel. I had to.”
“Yes, Xena,” she says quietly.
When she closes her eyes, she sees Xena’s sword again, plunging down again, into the heart of her baby again.
The helpless little cry that followed.
Hope
There is no hope left.
~end~
Title: Night Into Day
Author: Aresbitch
Summary: A different ending for OAHAF
Pairing: X/A
Rating: NC-17 for sexual descriptions.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit
~~~~
The dark is broken by the moon coming in through the splintered window slats; slashing blue light across Xena’s sleeping form.
Ares lies next to her, tracing the lines of her beauty with his gaze. She has such a noble profile, like Roman royalty and yet she’s savage – Thracian blood running hot in her veins, the need for violence like a perfume on her fragrant skin.
Her long fingered hands has delivered so much death to those around her, even Hades stood in awe of the Warrior Princess.
But he sees now the furrow of a frown across her brow, the way her lethal hands twitch in her sleep. She’s plagued by dreams of death, hearing the screams of her dead.
Morpheus and Phobetor loved her too, for feeding them so well.
Reaching out, he traces the line of her shoulder down to her arm, and watches the goosebumps rise up behind his touch. He smiles, knowing that despite her protests to the contrary, he affects her.
But she’ll never allow herself that love, not with him.
Frowning, his hand falls away and rolls onto his back, draping an arm across his eyes.
Gabrielle snores softly on his other side, a warm weight that niggles at him like a splinter under his skin.
He turns his head and gazes at the top of her head. She’s a restless sleeper, rolling over onto him twice. To his delight, Xena always stirred to roll her friend back off.
“Ares,” Xena drawls in a tired voice. He turns his head on the pillow.
“Yeah?” he whispers in reply.
“Stop thinking so much. It’s keeping me up.”
That’s a lie, he thinks. He’s not keeping her awake. Her dreams do that. But he lets it go, aware that she’s never in a mood to discuss her past.
“Sorry,” he says instead.
She sighs restlessly and moves again, trying for another comfortable position. Her scent drifts up from the disturbed covers, tantalizing his senses and he finds himself getting hard. Turning to face the back of her head, he stifles the urge to touch her.
Unbidden, memories rise from the shadows and corners of his mind and he sifts through them, a millennium’s worth.
She seems to have been there forever.
He doesn’t think there will ever be anyone else for him and that makes him more afraid then he can ever remember feeling before.
She sighs again and rolls over to glare at him. He lifts his head from the pillow a little, surprised by the rancor in her gaze. He’s done nothing, behaved himself like a good little mortal boy and still she finds a way to look at him as though he were responsible for the fall of
Well, actually –
“Do you have to breathe so loud?” she snarls, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. He watches as she stomps out of the bedroom in her underwear.
Gabrielle snorts softly and rolls over, hitting his thigh with her wrist.
Glaring at the sleeping bard, he removes her hand and gets up to follow Xena.
Closing the bedroom door as softly as he can, he follows her to the kitchen.
She’s standing by the broken doorway, watching the eastern horizon.
“It won’t be light for another hour yet,” he tells her quietly.
She turns to face him, confusion and anger visible in the brackets around her mouth.
“I know,” she replies, and turns back. He pauses, unsure of her mood but then walks over to her. The planks on the floor are stripped and weathered, rough on his bared feet.
As a god, he never had to worry about splinters. Now he’s careful where he walks.
Because he has to be.
Mortality sucks, he thinks, gazing at the back of her head. But if she stays with him, if she gives him even a little sign that she feels the same way he does, he’d happily pry splinters from his feet for the next fifty years.
“Xena,” he whispers softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
The touch spurs her in some way and she shudders and turns to face him again.
The longing in her eyes, the conflict, is completely unexpected and he gapes at her.
“You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?” she asks rhetorically, taking a step towards him. “Always there, always pushing, never understanding that when I say you’re bad for me, I mean it.”
Breaths coming harshly, she reaches up and cups his jaw, almost crying.
“You don’t fit into my life, do you understand that? I can’t have you and be the person I am – you’ll infect me like a sickness. With you, wrong will become right, and I am too dangerous with that kind of philosophy, Ares.”
She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she’s trying to convince him, and he takes the hand cupping his jaw in his, stroking the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Xena,” he whispers. “Did you ever think that while you were busy worrying that I’d change you…you were changing me?”
Her eyes widen with surprise and it breaks his heart that she never saw the change she inspired in him.
“Why are you so surprised?” He asks, hurt growing exponentially. “Haven’t you noticed what you do to me? How many rules I’ve broken for you? I helped you kill my family, Xena.”
To his horror, he’s near to crying and takes a step back, blinking rapidly to dispel the water gathering.
Gods do not cry.
She follows him, stepping into his space.
“You’re not a god anymore, Ares,” she tells him, seeming to have read his mind.
Then she reaches up and opens her mouth over his, swallowing his tears.
Her mouth is sweet, her breath like mint leaves and he groans like he’s dying, gathering her up before she has a chance to think about what she’s doing. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands coming together at the nape of his neck, and legs wrapping around his hips.
Like that the fire between them flares and rages out of control, consuming sense and caution. He holds her up by cupping her ass and shoves her against an ancient table where meals were had and children raised.
Setting her down, he pushes until she’s flat against the surface and stares down at her.
“I want you,” he whispers urgently. “Now.”
Hands reaching for her underwear, he burrows beneath with his fingers and encounters her heated flesh.
She’s wet.
Already.
For him.
She reaches up and he falls on her, mouth opening over hers and her tongue licking his teeth. He’s hard and it hurts and then she reaches down and grabs him and it hurts even more. The kind of hurt that leaves him breathless and gasping, surging into her palm, eager for her.
“I love you,” he whispers against her lips and kisses her again so he doesn’t have to hear the silence following his declaration. She strokes him with her hand and with her tongue, making the back of his head fire with an ancient need to fuck, to claim his woman and leave his mark on her, in her.
He’s been a god for over three millennia and never has he felt like this, so overcome by desire and lust and love the way he is with her.
Always hers.
Always you, he thinks.
She tugs his sleeping garment down while he cups her mound and spears her with his finger, making her arch from the table with a gasp he swallows. The flesh of her neck and chest turns pink with risen blood and he breaks the kiss between them to trail his mouth down over the stain, licking and sucking her flesh as though it were ambrosia.
Cupping her breast in his other hand, he plays her like an instrument, stroking until her eyes nearly close and her mouth opens in an oh of pleasure.
He smoothes his thumb over the nubbin at the top of her mound and she spasms once, heavily, and honey pours over his hand.
“You can do better than that, Xena,” he whispers against her breast and strokes again.
She spasms again, gasping into the predawn air, and long fingers wrap around his throat, pushing him until he straightens up. His cock, heavy with blood and need, bobs loose from his garments and she grasps it with her other hand while she pushes him a step back and hops off the table.
“I wanna play too,” she whispers with a wicked smile.
He smiles down at her, and when she pushes him into a chair, he drops down.
Waiting.
Holding his gaze, she strips off the bare bit of cloth covering her mound and then unhooks the garment covering her breasts.
His breath leaves him all over again at the bare perfection of her body.
Straddling his chair, she lowers herself until the tip of his erection touches her hot flesh.
“Ready?” she asks, looking into his eyes. The question has more depth to it than just the obvious, but right now all he can think about is how she feels and nods. She cups the sides of his neck and bends a little, kissing him while she sinks down onto his cock.
He groans again, her heat scalding him, and deepens the kiss, ravenous for her. He wraps his hands on her hips, grasps her firmly and moves her up and down, up and down, his toes curling from the silky, hot feel of her.
Xena throws her head back and gasps loudly, and he leans forward and kisses his way down from her neck to her chest as he fucks her, mouthing her nipples as they bob gently in and out of range.
Leaning into him she holds him around the shoulders, kissing his mouth, his cheek, biting his ear.
Dawn breaks over the distant mountains and the cloak of stars fade, giving way to day.
Ares moves faster, slamming his hips up into her as she grinds down, trying to take everything he’s giving. When he reaches between their bodies and strokes her nubbin with his thumb, she jerks hard in his arms and comes, the contractions of her body tightening her flesh around his cock until he breaks apart at the seams, burying his face in her throat as he trembles and fills her.
Spent, she slumps in his arms and he holds onto her still, mindlessly stroking her back as he pumps in small jerks. When there’s nothing left for him to give her, he stops and kisses her skin, goosebumps rising along his shoulders and arms.
Silent for as long as it takes to get their bearings, she finally raises her head.
He does the same, and waits for the recriminations now that the urgency has passed.
The morning sun peeks through the cracks in the walls, spilling in through the windows, flooding the kitchen with light.
“I always knew it’d be this good,” she whispers, smiling weakly.
Sweat dots her upper lip and along her temple, her hair damp against her head.
He takes her in, then her words register and he smiles playfully, joyfully.
“Told ya.”
She buries her face in his neck, laughing softly, and he closes his eyes as he hugs her.
Maybe there’s a chance, he thinks. Better than one in a billion.
He opens his eyes and gazes at the table that held their weight, and imagines their children eating there.
~end~
Title: What Dreams Are These?
Author: Aresbitch
Summary: It’s said that the God of War can take many forms, and does so in order to visit the wives of his generals while they are away in battle.
Rating: R for suggestive material
Pairing: Heavy on the X/G & A/G subtext – and I’m not kidding. If you are heavily invested in JUST X/G or X/A or A/G, don’t read this.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Notes: The next Xenaverse fic I write will be X/A, just so I can prove my shipper cred is still current.
It's said that the God of War can take many forms, and does so in order to visit the wives of his generals while they are away in battle............
Xena smiles at Gabrielle and presses the moist flesh of a date to her lips.
They are sitting next to the bank of a river under, the blue sky open above them.
Apollo drives his chariot across the great expanse, raining warmth and light down on the earth.
Gabrielle lies on the soft grass growing wild around her and sighs under the warmth of Apollo’s blessing.
She parts her lips and bites down on the meat of the date, the honeyed fruit full on her tongue, lush and satisfying. She sits up as Xena holds a skin of mulled ale to her lips and drinks deep, lips pressed to the opening, eyes on the warrior next to her.
Xena places the skin down as the nectar settles into Gabrielle’s veins and flushes her skin softly pink. The world is soft and the sounds of the river soothing and Xena is calm and smiling instead of raging and grim. Gabrielle reaches up and smoothes one finger down Xena’s jaw, tracing a path she follows with her eyes.
When she lifts her gaze Xena gently pushes her back down into the grass and falls on top, blotting out the sky behind her. Her black hair falls over them, and Gabrielle closes her eyes, waiting.
When she feels lips pressed to her own they aren’t the petal softness she’s expecting but the kiss is passionate, demanding, and she gives in beneath the onslaught, opening her mouth.
Calloused hands trail down her body, fingertips making her flesh come alive wherever they touch, and the rough feel of leather presses her into the soft, damp earth. She curls her leg up around Xena’s and bunches one hand into Xena’s hair, directing her mouth up again so that she can possess, tongue driving deeply in and Xena moans – the rumble like a caress against Gabrielle’s breasts.
It’s like she’s had too much ale, body flushing hot, throbbing for pressure, resistance, the drive towards something more primal in every cant and curl of her hips around Xena’s pelvis.
And then she’s naked under Apollo’s sky, and the wind is soft as a tickle, gentle as Xena’s hands on her skin, and she opens her eyes, still wanting, still needing –
And sees Ares’ face hovering above her, eyes black and fire hot, mouth parted in a pant.
There is a vein that throbs in his forehead, seeming to keep time with the heavy thump of her blood through her body. She pulls his head back down and he smiles triumphantly before she swallows that grin with her kiss, both fists driving through his hair, clasping his scalp with fingers that dig.
She’s come too far for outrage and thrusts up as he thrusts in; filling her wholly, possessing her completely, and she arches and cries, dragging her nails through his scalp as she trembles and thunderclouds over take the blue sky, lightning ripping across her screams like the banshees of Britannia.
When there’s nothing left to be gotten, when she’s like a wrung out dishrag with limp bones and heavy eyes, she falls back on the grass and feels the first drops of rain on her skin.
It feels like tears.
She wakes up slowly, crying, and hears again the dying screams of men in the distance.
The battle isn’t over.
Xena’s still fighting.
War has won.
~~end~~
Title: Burnt Candles &Thunderstorms
Author: Aresbitch
Summary: Rejected by Xena, Ares takes it out on Gabrielle.
Rating: R for suggestive material
Disclaimer: If I owned them, the show would have aired on Showtime.
Notes: Just something that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it. Set sometime after the Rift but before Sacrifice.
Gabrielle is just on the edges of the campsite when she hears the voices.
Low, intimate.
Firming her hold on the firewood, she slows her approach and stops behind a tree.
The camp fire is burning brightly, its smoke twisting into the night air like a dancer. Xena is lying on her back, propped up by her saddlebag, close to the warming flames.
Ares kneels over her, fingers grazing the bandage at Xena’s upper arm and shoulder.
She’d been wounded earlier, fighting off some bandits blocking a pass over a bridge. A cut that turned bright red, bringing a fever with it. The closest city was too far away and Xena needed rest and food, so Gabrielle insisted on stopping for the night and setting up camp.
There’s a rabbit roasting in a spit over the fire.
Ares, she thinks.
“I don’t need your help, Ares,” Xena is insisting, though she does nothing to brush his hand from her shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid, Xena. Your body is on fire, if you don’t take some of this, it might get a lot worse before it gets better. IF it gets better.”
It’s then that Gabrielle notices the vial in the god’s other hand, the stopper removed.
Xena glares up at him.
“And if I swallow that, then what? I turn into your little mindless, conquering queen? No thanks, Ares-” she stops short on his name and Ares drops the vial and grabs her shoulders, supporting her as she leans forward in a coughing fit.
Gabrielle nearly runs from her spot from behind the tree, but the sight of Xena in Ares’ arms stops her. Ares is pressing his mouth to the back of her head and Xena is again allowing the gesture, and his support, as she shudders and coughs.
How much of what Xena says about her feelings for Ares is the truth? Looking at the two of them together, Gabrielle wonders.
When the fit is finally over, Xena leans back against her saddlebag weakly. Ares brushes his knuckles across her cheek.
“Take the vial, Xena. Please.”
Xena looks up at him, trying to glare but failing.
“Why do you care, Ares?” She asks instead, eyes on his face. Waiting, Gabrielle thinks, for some semblance of truth from the God of War.
Gabrielle waits with her, breath held.
Ares’ face turns to stone but Gabrielle almost imagines something else there for a second before he shuts it down .
Vulnerability maybe.
But that’s not possible, is it? The God of War is incapable of anything but the most destructive of desires, the most selfish of needs. He can’t possibly love, could he?
Watching him now, Gabrielle wonders.
Face closed in anger, Ares drops the vial next to Xena’s thigh.
“Take it, don’t take it. What do I care? There are other warriors, Xena. It’s not like you’ll be missed.” He stands, one hand on his sword, like he’s waiting.
“Get lost, then, Ares. I don’t need ya,” Xena replies, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, dismissing him.
Xena misses the anger she incites so easily, but Gabrielle watches as his mouth tightens, and his hands bunch into fists before he disappears in a shower of sparks.
She watches as Xena opens her eyes again, swallowing as she stares at the spot he stood.
Gabrielle can’t watch anymore, and drops the firewood before turning and leaving the camp. She needs a walk, and maybe something stronger than water tonight. But since that isn’t likely to manifest as easily as the cooking rabbit did, she’ll have to settle for spring water.
The sound of rushing water fills her head right before Ares appears in front of her, the outline of his power red before it disappears.
She stops and glares at him, turns her back and walks off.
Ares appears in front of her again and when she turns to head in another direction, he puts an arm out against the tree behind her and stops her, caging her in.
“Let me go,” she grits out, glaring up at him.
“Did you enjoy that, Gabrielle? Did it make you all giddy inside to watch her reject my help?” He’s angry, angrier than she’s ever seen him in the past, even after Xena refused to kill those villagers and he beat her and held a sword on her.
“It made me proud, Ares. If you want to help her, it’s only because you want to hurt her somehow. She’s right to not trust you.”
She’s so close to him she’s practically breathing in his air, aware that she’s provoking him, probably past the breaking point.
But she doesn’t care.
“You’re pretty brave talking to me like this, Gabrielle,” he leans down closer. “But I can feel your heart beating, little girl.” He wraps his hand around her throat and pushes her lightly back against the tree. “Be a shame if it beat so hard it burst altogether, don’t you think?”
She puts her hands up and tries to pry his fingers loose but she might as well be trying to push a boulder up hill. The sound of his leather gauntlets creaking is so loud in her ears, and she stupidly breathes in the smell of him by turn, thinking of burnt candles and thunderstorms.
“You’re nothing but an overindulged, spoiled bully,” she mutters, glaring up at him. He brings her forward as easily as a storyteller maneuvers a puppet and she wraps both hands around his thick wrist, trying to control his movmenets. It stuns her that she can still breathe – mostly - and that his hold doesn’t hurt.
Much.
“I’m a lot worse than a bully, Gabrielle. You might want to remember that next time you feel like calling me names.”
He stares down at her - waiting for her to cower, she thinks. But she’s not going to. She’s faced worse things than Ares in a bad mood. Getting dragged across half of
His mouth hitches up at one corner, shaping his scowl into a smirking grin.
“You’ve got a little bit of courage, Gabrielle, even when you should be groveling on your knees in front of me.” He lets her go suddenly, stepping back. “I like that.”
Then he disappears and Gabrielle almost falls to her knees in reaction, heart hammering. She leans against the tree behind her and slides down until her butt hits the earth.
The moon is a lot higher in the sky before she’s able to stand up without shaking, and make her way back to camp.
~
end
~
Just testing this.
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I like the line "You can do better than that Xena" ;)