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Make Me
A Story by Suzar
SuzarD@aol.com

The barn door exploded inward and crashed against the building’s inner wall, unleashing a rain of pungent debris from the hayloft. A shaft of brilliant winter sunlight pierced the quiet darkness of the place. The warrior leaned in, gave it a swift visual inspection, and steered the bard inside without loosening the grip on her elbow.

"Thought so," she said flatly. "Wait here."

Gabrielle leaned against a support beam, shivering, and watched as Xena paced the perimeter of the apparently deserted barn, checking stalls and shadowed corners with a cool, sharp-edged intensity. The bard pitied any stray beast or fowl that might be hiding in this place; it would surely meet an instant and ugly demise at the warrior’s hands. But Gabrielle could tell that this barn had been deserted for a long time -- the scent of hay was strong, but what should have been an overpowering note of cow manure had almost entirely faded. Still, if they had managed to find this place so quickly, marauders or stragglers from the battlefield they’d just left might have found it, too.

Gabrielle watched as Xena raised her head to glance up at the hayloft -- eyes narrowed, head cocked as she listened for any sound that might indicate an intruder. Her breath was a mist just visible in the cold air. The warrior had barely uttered a word in the space of two hours. She was still grimy from battle -- a small gash in her left cheek had bloodied that side of her face; dirt and gore of a nature Gabrielle dared not speculate on clung to her arms and neck, and her hair was matted and filthy.

The bard felt the stirrings of a familiar tangle of emotions for the warrior. She felt profound compassion for the woman who had today taken so many lives, so ruthlessly, but out of dire necessity. She felt anger at the vicious fools who had forced the confrontation to the point of bloodshed, but tenderness for the warrior who had finally ended it. To be utterly truthful, she felt some small measure of fear as well -- no one could witness the carnage Xena had wrought today and deny that. She also felt a deepened admiration and respect for Xena’s courage -- for her astonishing emotional control in battle, and her carefully honed skill with both weapon and body. But at this moment, most of all, what Gabrielle felt was an overwhelming tide of physical desire for the powerful woman in front of her.

Xena finished her reconnaissance of the abandoned barn and moved past the bard to close and bar the door, plunging them into deep shadow. Here and there sunlight penetrated cracks in the walls, and the fingers of light splayed across the closed space. Gabrielle watched as the warrior froze, head raised to sniff the air for some suspected threat. This simple act seemed to inflame every nerve ending in Gabrielle’s body, and she stepped toward the warrior. Xena fixed her with a strange gaze that was half ice, half supplicant’s plea.

From her earliest days with Xena, the bard had been aware of the snide comments and knowing looks among certain people at the inns and villages they visited -- assumptions about them as sexual partners, about the nature of their lovemaking. Even in the Amazon village, Xena’s bearing and power seemed to invite pointed speculation about what went on between them. Ephiny herself had questioned Gabrielle once, cautiously, about Xena’s... preferences. Almost without exception, the curious alleged that they were concerned about the bard’s safety; in fact, they appeared much aroused by the scenes their imaginations had devised.

Gabrielle moved toward the warrior, undaunted. She felt fire stirring in the pit of her stomach, licking upward toward her breasts and burning hot between her legs. The bard remembered the first time she had felt this -- and the shame that immediately overtook her when she realized the nature and depth of her desire. She had tried to deny it -- tried to act as if nothing were different -- but there was no concealing it from Xena. They knew one another too well. And, astonishingly enough, Xena had welcomed it. As if she’d been waiting for it all along. Now, with experience, Gabrielle understood. There were good reasons, sound reasons for what was about to happen.

And Gabrielle did not give a damn what anyone thought.

She closed the remaining space between them, reached out to take the chakram from Xena’s hip, and let it drop heavily into the litter of straw at their feet. The warrior watched coolly, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, revealing nothing as Gabrielle circled behind her to remove the sword and scabbard from her back and drop it, too, to the floor. Then the bard completed the circle and came to a stop in front of her. She rested one hand on the warrior’s waist and reached up with the other to slip between her breasts and deftly extract the dagger hidden there. It joined the other weapons at their feet.

"I want you. Now."

Gabrielle reached up to take the warrior’s face between her hands, pulling Xena’s head forcefully toward her. Their lips met in a fierce, probing kiss.

Locked in an incendiary embrace, the two stumbled their way toward the first surface that presented itself -- a partition, a wall dividing two stalls. Xena pushed hard against the bard, grinding into her -- armor crushing against the smaller woman’s chest. Gabrielle squirmed against her and slid her hands around and beneath her leathers to roughly grasp Xena’s buttocks. She pushed her leg between Xena’s and began a series of hard thrusts against her. She tore at the edge of the warrior’s undergarment and demanded its removal.

When Xena ignored her, the bard simply yanked the garment down to her knees and pushed Xena back and downward, to the floor. The bard fell upon her, parted her thighs, and pushed the heel of her hand against the warrior’s sex.

"Tell me what you want," she ordered in a throaty rasp.

"You know," Xena said quietly, pushing back against Gabrielle’s hand.

Gabrielle felt the warrior’s wetness against her palm, seeping between her fingers.

Again, the bard demanded, "Ask for it."

Xena writhed against her and answered, "You -- I want you -- to fuck me."

The words hung there, suspended for a moment in the air. Then Gabrielle stiffened her fingers and pushed inside the warrior. Xena’s shoulders sank against the floor and she moaned with relief.

"How? Like this?" Gab asked, working her way deeper inside, establishing a determined, powerful rhythm.

"Yes," Xena answered, her voice barely audible. She raised her hips off the floor, straining to meet each inward push. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut and through clenched teeth she growled, "Harder..."

Gabrielle responded by adding momentum to her thrusts, rocking her elbow harder, tensing her muscles. By now Xena was fully open to her, so smooth and so incredibly wet, taking it all...

"Tell me what you want," Gabrielle murmured again, insistent.

Xena groaned. "Fuck me," she whispered. "Don’t stop."

Her warrior, Gabrielle thought. Her lover. This woman wanting her... Gabrielle moved quickly, pushing in with all her strength -- striving to fill her, to answer her need.

"Oh gods -- I want to feel it, Gabrielle -- please..."

The bard took her, harder and deeper, exactly as Xena asked, until the muscles in her arm began to quiver and weaken. She slowed her thrusts, then began to exert a steady pressure toward the front of her lover’s inner walls. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

Xena nodded her head, moaning. "Yes .... yes..."

Gabrielle extended her thumb and began rubbing it in tight circles in the vicinity of Xena’s clitoris, as if ignorant of its precise location. Xena threw her head back and a pained cry escaped her. She reached down, groping blindly at Gabrielle’s wrist.

"Please," she sobbed. "I have to... want to... need to..."

"What do you need, Xena?" Gabrielle whispered back. Patiently. Lovingly. Rubbing her thumb directly over the warrior’s clit, moving her fingers within the depths of her. She leaned down to kiss the warrior’s blood-smeared cheek, then licked away the single tear that escaped from behind closed eyes.

Xena strained to push the words out, and they came quietly, weakly, almost lost against the force of the orgasm that was poised to overwhelm her.

"To feel. Please, Gabrielle--make me feel something again..."

[END]

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