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Disclaimers: MCA/Universal/Renaissance own Xena and Gabrielle. This is a short short slice of entertainment not meant to step on anyone's toes. There is definately subtext here, so beware. Much more than my usual. Enjoy.

silk2@hotmail.com

I sit here by the camp's firelight, sitting across from her. Watching her with hooded eyes, my breath harsh and loud in my ears. From the tips of her toes, to the crown of her head, I love every inch of this woman. Her heart. Her soul. Her mind. Everything is added fuel to the fire of my passion for her.

Eyes which always seem to pierce me knowingly, stripping me to the core and leaving me naked before her. Taking away all my pretenses, she can look within and see all of me. Liquid pools that I can dive into for long moments, before I drown in their depths willingly.

That silken mane of hair, which I can never get enough of. The thought of those long strands falling through my fingers makes my pulse race and my blood start to burn. The smell of it, as it has just dried from washing, always gives me a pleasant feeling in my belly.

Her ears, so fine and sensitive, I can almost feel her shiver when I gently lick the rounded edge in my mind. The almost violent trembling she makes when I delicately pull the fleshy lobes within my mouth and eagerly suck on it. The gasp of delight she gives as I whisper my love to her.

By the gods, just thinking of this makes my mouth dry with longing. How can she sit there so casually? Can't she hear my heart pounding? Can't she feel the ground shaking under, what seems to me, the violent trembling of my legs against the ground. Can't she feel the heat of my gaze upon her skin?

Oh gods! Her skin. My hand wipes absently against the blanket I sit on as the thought of it invades my mind. Like silk, so smooth, yet the lightest of touches makes the fine hairs that cover her stand on end. Even then her body is so deceiving to the eye, muscle hidden under that sleek exterior. Power under beauty.

My hands grow more sweaty, just aching to touch her. Anywhere! I don't care where!

I take a deep breath, trying to control myself, but my eyes gravitate to her neck. So graceful. Its curves and length beckoning to me. The memories of my lips gently kissing that strong pulse make my skin ache with need. So powerful that pulse. So sweet beneath my eager lips. I swallow unconsciously, tasting that phantom skin, the faint honey of it seems so real to me.

The night air is doing nothing to cool my burning skin. I'm afire with longing for her, but I hold myself back, wanting to just look for now. To enjoy her as she is, sitting there unaware.

My eyes travel back up, this time to her lips. Full and sensuous, I shudder in remembrance of the places that heavenly mouth has traveled over my body in love. Her kisses are like wine to me. The vintage varying from deep rich almost overpowering passion, to the soft sweet caresses. Each kiss making me drunk with desire for her and wanting to consume more. My tongue wets my own lips in eagerness for her.

I look away for a moment into the forest to catch my breath, but my senses know she is still there, and I cannot stay away. Once again I gaze at her, my eyes roaming down her body to stop at her breasts.

Surely she heard my breath catch?

Hungrily I devour the sight of her covered chest, the memories of my fingers gently trailing the lightest of touches across the delicate skin. Wide circles around the edges of the soft swells, slowly making my way inward to her hard nipple. My mouth is no longer dry, but gushing at the thoughts. Her nipple a toy upon my tongue as I would roll, lick, and suck on it with delight. The deep moan and arch of her back as I lightly bite, then pull back scraping my teeth along its firmness. She always does this. The firm yet soft feel of her as my palms kneed and squeeze her flesh.

Now my hands itch. Unable to touch her, yet craving to feel her in my hands, I'm dying from the desire. Neither one of us pray to the gods, but I swear, Aphrodite has it out for us surely. Driving me insane with longing is just her style. If only I could drink from the pool that is my love this very moment. But still I hold myself back. We are both passionate women, but each of us is still new to this feeling. This need between us.

Just the sight of her is driving me to near insanity. Those legs so firm and muscular. I've had many a fantasy of just spending time worshipping those two lovely limbs of hers, from slowly caressing her toes, to the long slow sensual strokes on her thighs, that she cannot restrain from shivering and moaning from.

With a quiet sigh I move my eyes upward past her calves, knees, and to her thighs until they reach that hidden part of her. Once again my mouth gushes in thirst, but my hands also hunger, itching more fiercely then before. My eyes close even further, until all else around me is gone, except for her. The sounds of the night, the crackling of our fire all drowned out by the loud pounding of the blood in my veins.

How I want to make her moan and cry my name as I would run my fingers through her soft curls, then trail one finger down the length of her. I know I would gasp at her wetness, I always do. I want to spread her lips apart and travel further, and yet I thrust the images from my mind. If I go on I will never be able to return.

I love this woman with all my soul, and yet the desire I feel for her at time consumes me like a wildfire, threatening to blow my ashes upon the winds. I love her mind. Her heart. Her soul. Her body is only one of the things I desire about her.

Her giving of herself to help others. The innocence I see, though she has seen so much evil and hate. The laughter in her eyes when we talk. The concern I see when someone is injured. Her hands are gentle as they wrap bandages, I should know.

I shudder slightly as I realize how deep she has affected me. I close my eyes only for a moment and swim in the cries of hunger that flow through my body. Then opening them again, I realize she is looking at me. Her eyes entrap mine without a struggle. Does she see? Can she feel it? Oh gods...I both want her too and dread it.

Suddenly my heart stops, as the object of my heart stands and closes the distance between us. With a small smile she sits next to me, the heat of her body yet another sensation that drives me mad. So close to me and yet we are still separate.

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice rushes through me like a warm wind, heating parts of me that I didn't know were cold.

Meeting her eyes I shrug slightly, trying to keep myself under control. "You." I whisper back.

The look I receive turns me into liquid. My limbs won't support me much longer I know, and I thank any gods who are listening that I am sitting. Still, no matter what she does to me just by her presence, I crave more.

"What exactly do you think about when you think of me?" she asks, her voice low and soft in my ears.

My tongue feels stiff, unmoving, but I cannot deny her.

"Your lips on mine. Your skin under my worshipping hands. The taste of you. Your soul touching mine with just a glance. Your heart beating in time with my own, even when we are separated by the whole of Greece...or just the campfire." The words seem frail to me. I know I can do much better, but she drives the words from my mind just by her eyes upon me. O Fates, if you take me now, I would be the most happy of women in all the world, having known the complete love of this woman and having loved her completely.

I watch her eyes widen in surprise and I blush strongly.

Slowly she leans forward, her eyes locking with mine, until her sweet breath mixes with my own in the cool night air.

"How do you do it? How can you say such things and move me so?" she asks, her voice barely louder than the breeze.

"I have many skills," I answer simply, my eyes still connecting with her smoky green eyes.

She sighs and closes the distance between us, our lips finally meeting. The memory of her kisses pales in comparison to the delicious taste of reality. We merge, tasting, teasing, feeding on the other's love.

I moan deeply. How can I tell her, this woman I love dearer than life itself, that it is no skill that I have? How do I tell her, when the words fail me, that it is inspiration. That it is a vision that feeds me and her name is Gabrielle?

Ok. Ok. I know Xena isn't a poet, but even warriors have moments of illumination. It can happen to anyone and shouldn't be held against them. In fact, if someone you love, for the first time erupts in a flood of prose (even if it's terrible), embrace it. It will last you a lifetime of silence I assure you. (Or at least weeks*G*)

Also, blame this lil thing on not being able to go to the Burbank Con *sigh* and a certain bard whom shall remain nameless, who's ff stories I printed out and read in a mini-marathon last night. Her stories got my creative juices going. Get ya minds outta the gutter. I said creative! *VBEG*

Well..enough of my babble~

Silk

1/16/98

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