ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Gabrielle, By Xena

by Caley Woulfe

Disclaimer: Xena and Gabrielle belong to their creators at Ren Pic. I'm only borrowing them to use in my imagination. I promise to return them only a bit worse for wear (tired but happy).

Type: Erotica

Sex: You bet! Graphic, and plenty of it. If lovemaking between two women isn't your thing, leave now. If it's illegal where you live, think of moving. If you're under 18, wait a few years. Homophobic e-mails will be deleted unread, and I will also ask the Great Mother to open your eyes.

Violence: None

Ick Factor: None

Gabrielle has always amazed me. She amazes me still, and she will amaze me til the moment I die. When I first saw her, she was the only female, young or old, who fought back against the slave raiders; all the others cowered together and did exactly what they were told. I had to admire that, even if it was a stupid thing to do and could've gotten her killed. It was that, more than her impassioned plea to escape her dull village and impending marriage that made me decide to let her come with me.

At first she was annoying; she talked constantly, interfering with my concentration, so I ignored her. Was she deterred by my lack of attention? No! She just kept talking, and she laughed so easily. I grew to tolerate it. Slowly. Months. My tolerance became a like, and then a love. Then, when she was quiet and introspective I missed the chatter and wondered if she were sick or upset. She did  talk non-stop, but she never said the same thing twice, she had a fantastic imagination, and she was more intelligent and educated than your typical village girl. No idea or concept was too preposterous, such as "I think we all came from the ocean." Oh come on.... But when I finally thought about it, I wondered if she had the right idea...Nah.

But I worried about her. When she was in her own world and spouting about, it she totally forgot her surroundings. That was lethal; I had to teach her to stay aware, even when her imagination ran away with her. It took a long time, but she did. Now she can to both. I can't do that. She amazes me.

Every once in a while, if we aren't in a hurry, I let her sleep late. Not just because I love her, because I do, but because I also have a selfish and ulterior motive for doing so: I absolutely love  watching her stretch while she wakes up. She usually has a few false starts, but eventually the show begins. The woman really is incredible, I never knew the human body could contort like that. Talk about a lesson in biomechanics. Despite the muscles, or perhaps because of them, she is beyond elastic. Like a cat. And let's not forget the noises she makes. She bends and twists, her muscles flex, her arms and legs go off on different directions while folding and straightening. If she's not wearing anything the effect is overwhelming; especially if she's on her back and arches upward... By the Gods!

The few times I witnessed her before our relationship became physical, I had to turn away and not watch, although my ears were still tortured. But I didn't dare leave her. Now I have to restrain myself from pouncing on her.....Well, truth be told, I have pounced on her a few times. Not that she complained. When I do, we're lucky if we're on the road by noon. Every once in a blue moon she pounces on me, with the same result. The woman is so full of surprises. She amazes me.

I will never cease to be amazed at how she can have an orgasm from breast play, and how quickly. All I have to do is knead them and roll her nipples between my fingers for a minute or two while whispering erotic compliments, or use my mouth, and bang. She jerks in my arms and utters that characteristic half gasp, half grunt before leaning on me to recover. Sometimes I never even get to use my mouth. But she recoups quickly and we keep going. And going. And going. She is insatiable. She amazes me.

I remember the first time she pleasured herself in my presence. It was several months after

her ordeal at Aesculapius's temple and she was pretty much healed. She must've thought I wouldn't wake up. Wrong! I'm a very light sleeper. But from what happened I suspected it had been a very long time for her. Why did I think so? Because she did it three times in a row. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack! Even though I left her at inns and taverns in the beginning, sometimes for more than a day, I can't see her being relaxed enough to do it in an unfamiliar place full of strangers. She knew how easily I awakened at the slightest sound; the poor thing must've been desperate, although it hadn't shown in her behavior.

A tiny sound penetrated my sleep. I snapped awake but didn't move a muscle because that would betray me. If the assailant(s) thought I was asleep I could catch him/them off guard...There was no one. Except Gabrielle. I slowly opened my eyes to a wonderful sight. The moon was full, the sky clear and full of stars. She was in an open patch, free of shade. There wasn't really much to see, she was under her sleeping fur, which was pulled up to her chin. She was lying on her back with her legs spread and bent, but not raised. Her head was slightly back and pressed into her pillow, which was hidden by her hair, with an expression of concentration on her lovely face. Her hair shone in the moonlight and her eyes were squeezed shut. Her jaw clenched and relaxed in unison with her mouth as she tried not to make any noise. She was not entirely successful. Tiny gasps and ragged breaths escaped, so faint that if I had been further away I would not have heard them.

I was instantly aroused....and embarrassed. Guilty, too. I knew I should close my eyes and leave her to her privacy, but I couldn't. Even if I did, I couldn't close my ears, and if I turned over I would disturb her. She might think, or worse, know, I was awake, lose her nerve, and stop. Not only would it be cruelly unfair to her, but she would be extremely embarrassed; more than me. I think. So I slitted my eyes so I could close them instantly in case she glanced my way. She didn't, she was too wrapped up in herself.

I didn't know how long she'd been at it, but I suspected not very long. I could see her hand moving under the sleeping fur and heard tiny, wet, sucking sounds. Her hips began thrusting upward; slow and uneven at first, then faster and rhythmic. Suddenly she went stiff, then bucked like a horse. Her head flew back and strangled grunts escaped with each explosion of sensation that raced through her body. It was intense but short lived. I caught my breath as she inhaled deeply, then slowly let it out. I almost had a fit on the spot. But it got even better...

Over hot from her exertions, she flipped her fur off to the side. The other side, thankfully. I blinked. Yup, she'd been desperate; she was still fully dressed, her skirt merely flipped up so she could reach herself, her breeches barely pushed down. She lay still, her chest still heaving, her hands resting between her thighs. Her breathing gradually slowed to normal and I thought, 'Well, that's that.' I was so aroused myself I was dripping. I wanted so much to take her into my arms and love her the way she deserved to be. But she didn't know I felt that way about her, and I didn't want to lose her... I barely closed my eyes in time as she suddenly glanced at me. I waited a long moment, then opened them again, just enough to see. She had closed hers and was facing skyward again.

I lay there, drinking in her beauty and waiting for her to pull her fur back and fall asleep. She didn't. She ran her hands up over her muscled stomach, slowly and sensuously, until she reached her top. One tug upwards and her breasts popped free. I had seen them many times before, but never like this. They were swollen from arousal, the nipples standing up straight and stiff. They were perfect, not to big, not too small; they fit her.

Her hands slid up to cup them briefly before beginning to massage them gently, pausing now and then to roll the taut nipples between thumb and forefinger. I almost forgot to breathe. As her excitement grew, she arched into her own hands, her legs stirring. Her hips began rocking, but still she didn't stop playing with those gorgeous breasts of hers. I was dripping from both ends when she finally moved one hand down, then the other. She rid herself of her breeches and caressed her inner thighs from knee to crotch in slow, loving strokes, her breasts pressed together between her arms.

Despite my distraction, I filed away her movements for possible future use. Just in case. Yeah, right.. After several agonizing minutes(?) Her hands moved up and paused for a moment. Then she spread herself with one hand and went to work with the other. I would've given anything to kneel between her knees and watch up close, anything. A ragged breath escaped her, the first sound she'd made since starting over. She had to have had to have still been throbbing; she'd been out of action for only a minute or two, not nearly enough time for it to subside. I knew what she was feeling, that lovely full sensation, the swollen flesh acutely sensitive to the most delicate contact. Or more. She was not being delicate; I could tell. Her movements were slow and firm. Oh Gods! The look on her face was precious as she raised her hips, pushing into her own touch. I thought I was gonna go crazy. She never wavered, she kept the same even, slow circling, her leg muscles tensing and relaxing as she grew more and more aroused. I knew from experience that when she came it would be volcanic. She certainly knew herself, more than once she brought herself to the brink and drew back, each interval shorter than the last. Oh Gods, she tried so hard not to make any noise, but she was so involved some of them got out. I wished she would let herself make all the noise she wanted instead of forcing herself to be quiet. But then, I was supposed to be asleep and oblivious to all this. The sounds that did get out fueled my own excitement, and only my strict self discipline kept me from ravishing her. Or myself.

Her head was straining back and down into her pillow, the muscles and cords standing out in her neck as her hips thrust against herself. Up until now her left hand been holding herself open. Suddenly it moved past and below the other. From the stifled grunt that burst from her tightly pressed lips I knew she had entered herself. How many fingers I didn't know, but she launched herself clear of her bed roll before landing with a thump. The instant she made contact again, she began pumping herself with quick, deliberate strokes. It went on and on. How could she stand it? Where did she get that amazing self control from? Gods!!....

I saw it approaching; she consciously slowed her movements so it would build and intensify. I held my breath. She came. And came. And came. Violently. I thought she was gonna rip herself apart. Finally, after what seem forever, she collapsed, panting as hard as if she had run up a tall, steep hill as fast as she could. Then she breathed a word that turned me inside out. My name. "..Xena..." I flinched and looked at her, hard. Her eyes were still closed. I couldn't believe my ears. Did she really say that? Or was it my overcharged libido talking?

Her chest was heaving, her breasts jiggling with the movement. Her mouth was open, and she was so profoundly relaxed I though she was about to melt into a puddle. A million thoughts chased themselves through my mind. Obviously she was fantasizing, but fantasies are not always what a person really wanted; I knew that much. But often they were. Given that, and my own attraction for her, how did I approach the subject without giving my self away? She'd given me the occasional hint that she might be interested in a physical relationship, but nothing concrete. I had no idea what she thought of same sex consanguinity. She was very open minded and couldn't understand religious, cultural, or color prejudice, but many 'open minded' people drew the line at homosexuals and lesbians. I sure as Tartarus didn't want to scare her off or disgust her....

As I attempted to digest the thorny problem.... She started up yet again. No way...uh uh.

I thought she was gonna be the death of me. I won't go into detail except to say that this time she took even longer. She was gentler with herself, and her orgasm was one of those quiet, yet ultimately satisfying ones. This time she whispered my name each time her pleasure flowed through her. I almost cried.

When she recovered and grew cold in the brisk night air, she pulled her fur over herself and flopped bonelessly onto her side. Her right hand landed a few inches from my nose. I could smell her essence on her fingers and I wanted so badly to take them into my mouth; to suckle them and savor the taste of her on my tongue. But I couldn't, dared not, didn't. She was dead to the world. I waited a few minutes to be sure and then took care of myself. She amazes me.

In some ways she's still a girl, playful and sometimes silly. I love her for that. She's surprisingly mature and responsible. I love her for that, too. She is kind, caring and compassionate. She can kick ass and tell people off, including me when I need it. I love her and I couldn't live without her. She amazes me.

THE END

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