Come Back To Me
By Pink Rabbit Productions
|I wanted to tell a tale about what
happened between Gabrielle, and Callisto, while Calli was in
Xena's body, and this was my first attempt (the second was The
Heart Knows, which I prefer, and which is actually a prequel to
this in some respects)
Disclaimer: Xena and Gabrielle belong to other folks, and yes,
I'm still thieving scum for using them. This story is of an
adult nature, so you'd better bug out now if you're A) too young
to be voting (and if you're old enough and still aren't voting,
fifty lashes with a fairly dry noodle)
It was her passion that drew me from the first. Her eyes, when she
fought Draco's men in Poteidaia, were bright with it, and she smiled as
she beat them. I think I fell in love in that very moment. I've seen
that same wildness so many times since, and every time I think I fall a
little more in love. We make an unlikely pair, don't we? A bard who
won't kill, and a warrior who's killed so many.
Somehow, it works though.
Sitting by the fire, the slow stroke of her sharpening stone rasping
along the edge of her sword blade, she is nearly perfection. Her hair
falls in dark waves of fire, and powerful muscles ripple with every draw
of the stone. She knows I'm watching her. I can tell by the tension in
her shoulders. Her eyes lift to meet mine, and for a brief second I can
see that wild passion glowing in the pale depths, before it's shielded
behind a protective wall.
Not of me, but of herself. She's unbelievably controlled whenever we
make love. She knows how to use every trick to drive me insane, but
somewhere along the way I noticed she wasn't there with me. She's been
holding a part of herself back, leashing that passion I fell in love
I hate that.
I want all of her, instead of these half measures.
Her eyes drop again to the surface of her sword, and the slow stroke
of the oilstone continues.
In Xena's body, she took what Xena would not.
Then, in Callisto's body, Xena accepted the truth. I love her. She
loves me. She made love to me that night. Her touch was sweet,
beautiful, and amazingly gentle. At first, it was strange touching
Callisto's body, but in my heart it was always Xena. Then she retrieved
Ares sword, and he returned her body.
She's been afraid since then. Afraid I'll look at her and remember
the invader. It wasn't a pleasant event, but I've accepted it and moved
It still gnaws at her though. She watches me when she thinks I won't
notice, watches me and worries. We make love, but she's so controlled.
She doesn't let me see, or feel, that passion anymore.
When I look at her, I can see the fear.
Her eyes lift when I rise, following me as I round the fire. I rest
my hand on the hilt of her sword, and irritation seeps into her
expression. "I want you." To my own ears, my voice sounds low
and sensual. I can tell by the temptation that flickers across her
expression that it sounds that way to her too, but she shakes her head,
refocusing on her weapon.
"Maybe later," she mutters, muscles tight with barely
leashed need. The sound of the stone skidding along the edge of her
blade seems even louder than before.
"Now," I whisper and slip a hand over her hair, fingers
trailing through the dark, silk threads.
A sharp shake of her head dislodges my fingers. "I said, not
now," she repeats, something that almost approaches anger
vibrating through her voice.
Blast it, can't she feel how much I need her? I see my own hands lift
as though they were someone else's, see pale fingers brush high
cheekbones as I slowly kneel before her. "Don't make me beg."
I can barely force the words past the tightness in my throat.
In the first instant of irritation, her fingers latch onto my wrist,
her grip punishing, then my words sink in. I can see the instant she
decodes their meaning in her flinch and the way powerful shoulders
suddenly slump. In these moments, I'm the one with the power in this
relationship, my softness breaking down her walls the way no hammer can.
She shakes her head slowly, mouth working in unspoken words, fighting
herself, struggling to maintain that iron control of hers.
She's not going to let go. I can see it in her eyes, and it spurs me
forward. Her eyes glint with a second's surprise as I curve my free hand
to the back of her head, dragging her into a hungry kiss. Mouths meld
and blend, and she resists for no more than a heartbeat before I feel
that wildfire passion start to burn. A moment later, the grass is soft
against my back, her body warm against my front. Firm lips ravish my
own, then move on, trailing over my throat and upper chest while silky
hair spreads over my skin in soft, teasing strokes.
"Gabrielle," that low, sensual voice vibrates through me. I
can feel her shuddering, the wetness of her tears on my skin. "I'm
I know what the admission costs her. To admit to fearing anything is
almost more than my tender warrior can handle. She's so brave in so many
ways, and such a child in others.
Her chin comes up, pale eyes glittering with tears as she meets my
gaze. "I've never done one thing right…in my entire life…when
it mattered…" Her voice is thick, barely audible.
For a moment, I'm struck dumb, amazed by the admission. "I…I
Xena, always so silent, protecting herself, and me. "I got
Lyceus and Borius killed…the only decent thing I ever did for my son
was give him away…and now you…I failed you, in the worst way
possible…I let Callisto-"
"No!" I can't bear that self-lacerating accusation in her
voice. Suddenly, it's her body beneath mine, and my lips slaking
themselves at the well of her mouth. "You didn't do anything…not
one damn thing," I hiss between kisses. I need her…desperately,
and I feel her struggle then surrender as she lets go, losing control.
Skin and sweat blend together, voices rising, and falling in erotic
tempos. For the first time since it happened, she loses control, showing
me that awesome, almost frightening passion that drives her. We struggle
to the same ends, muscles rippling, sometimes drawing bodies closer,
sometimes holding them distant.
At this rate, we'll both be stiff in the morning, but I don't care.
I have my Xena again. Wild, passionate, a little frightening, and
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