CHAPTER 2
Hoped emerges from the Hall of War and gazes out at the horizon, reminding her of the future she'll bring the world as the day ends with the blazing vermillion sun. She walks down the steps, in her mother's short green top and Amazon skirt, with unnaturally perfect posture. The demon lays a hand on the heavy-stone side-railing and with powers of vision and prophecy, given by her father, she envisions Hercules stabbing the stone with the Heinz Blood Dagger and then severing the blade's hilt, leaving the metal embedded. The Daughter of Dahak grins as the crucial piece to her father's plan to destroy the Olympian gods is just centimeters away. With her mind she blows the surrounding rock from the cavity to find it unfilled. Enraged, "It's gone." she says through gritted teeth.
"Didn't find what you're looking for?" Xena stood right by Hopes ear. The Warrior Princess managed to sneak up behind the momentarily distracted goddess. The demon lashes out at her with invisible claws, but the warrior instinctively jumps out of reach. She had broken Hope's no-hands-on approach. "Ooo, feisty!" Xena leaned in and gave a playful yet crazed look, much like the one from her warlord days. Then, in a seductive whisper: "I love it." The demon-goddess straightened up, her composer her only symbol of control.
"Where's mother? You never go anywhere without her." At the evil sound of Hope's voice, chills traveled across her spine. The warrior was aroused by the eyes searing through her: Gabrielle's beautiful emeralds but with a darkness, an intensity beyond any she'd seen before. This fact unnerved her. Was it the anger, the hate, pure evil itself that excited her? She was in awe; Hope's tone was thrillingly contorting the warrior's mind though her body was still. 'Gabrielle's body.' Xena admired her freely, something she'd never do with her friend, or in her right mind. That chained beast she had fought from within for so long, and had beaten to submission, wasted no time at the weakening restraints. Slowly the links stretched and strained to break. Just one, just one free hand, just one chance, and it would be unleashed again. Oh, glory was so very near! 'You cannot break your promise. You CANNOT break your promise to Gabrielle!' Xena pinned her darkness down. She was in control again . . . for now.
"Yeah, well, I've decided to let her go." Xena stills herself with her kindling warlord prowess. As she approaches the demon, the warrior makes certain she brushes skin with skin, a basic tactic: seduction, used frequently in her past to remind her army just exactly where their loyalties lie. But, much to the warrior's surprise, the contact meant to dilute her adversary's senses staggeringly inflames her own. The goddess feels Xena falter, and without hesitation uses the momentary lapse in judgment to her advantage. She captures the dark-haired woman, pushing her into the wall behind them, the warrior's wrists held in one hand, the other on her throat as she pierces cloudless-sky blue eyes with her own emerald green, now darkening-vermillion. She should be scared out of her mind; she isn't. But this time it's not the stoic warrior attitude, which has become second nature. No, it's the excitement; the feeling of Gabri . . . Hope's . . . body against her, pressing harder in sync with the hands holding her. 'Gods she's strong!' The demon tightens her grip.
'Why isn't she writhing with pain?!' She closes in on Xena, interlacing her legs with the warrior's, using all her supernatural strength to crush her into submission. Wanting to hear her scream in agony, her head goes to Xena's shoulder and turns to the side to watch for any sign of victory, anything resembling her enemy's defeat. Somehow, the leather clad woman, out of desperation, slides down to increase the pressure of Hope's thigh to her center. Hope feels the wetness even through the layers of leather and cloth between them. The tightly clenched jaw of the goddess softens, and then slowly curls into a devilish grin, showing perfect white teeth. She soaks in the sight of flushed, bronze skin across the warrior's chest; it rises and falls with her rapid breath. She can feel Xena's violent heartbeat, pulsing the blood throughout her entire body, speedily heating every inch.
"Wow . . . I thought you only did this for mother." Hope releases her captive's wrists, allowing the warrior's arms to return to her sides. She grazes up Xena's sides, over her shoulders, and then stops at the warrior's biceps, kneading them gently but roughly, using them to keep her against the wall. She hikes her leg up higher to grind into Xena's sex. Xena feels herself rising to the peak of ecstasy, and arches into the dream before her. Her hips move of their own accord, coming down harder and faster on the remarkably powerful demon. Her tongue almost slips: 'Gabrielle!' She's excited by the vision of her friend touching her this way.
"Oh, gods!" She feels Hope's mouth on her neck, searing a trail of unrequited pleasures. 'I have to get back control.' "Yes, Hope . . ." She whispers into the demon's ear, playing her like a lyre. She throws her head back dramatically, "YESS!" She bends down and kisses the goddess fervently, with every ounce of lust she can muster. Demanding dominance in the dance of their tongues, she can feel it working, the demon's reasoning and power over her fading. Xena breaks the kiss and takes one deep breath before plunging into Hope's shoulder, sinking her teeth into the cold flesh. Her tongue trails over the beading wound, lapping up the blood, and up Hope's neck, she catches an earlobe in her teeth as sucks it lightly. Heavy with desire she rasps into the demon's ear, "You are so not your mother." Hope abandons any resolve; she lets go of Xena's arms and puts her own around the warrior's neck. Greedily she takes another kiss. Xena's now free hands roam over her. As an immortal Hope had no need to feel or be aware of the state of her body, but this warrior makes her feel everything. The heat of Xena's bronzed skin, the strength of Xena's hands massaging her thighs, back, shoulders; cupping her tight back side to pull her hard against her; Xena's mouth, hot and with ragged escaping breaths, kissing her neck; suckling, biting, trailing down her chest, to her cleavage, over her peaking nipples through the thin green top. Absently, the demon gasps and groans in the new-found, mortal pleasure that is the Warrior Princess. The warrior hoists her lover up and helps Hope wrap her legs around her waist. She turns, putting the goddess' back against the wall and locks lips with her again. Meanwhile, she grinds her hips into Hopes sex, feeling her wetness. She pulls back from the kiss, "Is that for me?" The demon's eyes had closed in ecstasy, but at the sound of her enemy's voice they flash open. Xena sees hate, anger, need, desire, and lust all in the beautiful package of aquamarine crystals: swirling, glimmering, darkening. Her arousal takes on a new level. As she gazes into these eyes she forgets everything but her own need. Her darkness breaks free and unfathomable power surges through her. She's back! Hope sees the change and knows she has won the Destroyer of Nations. She bites the warlord's shoulder to taste her blood, bonding them together. At the pleasuring pain Xena returns to her mark on Hope's shoulder and licks it in unison. She pushes up the flimsy skirt and rips off Hope's underwear. She plunges three fingers deep inside her partner easily; stokes in and out, thrusting her hips forward, adding power to her ministrations. Muscles contract wildly around her hand, taking her in.
"Yes. Yess. YESSS! Xeennaaa!" Xena follows quickly behind Hope's orgasm without even being touched. The voice, crying her name, still rings in her ears.
"That was . . . amazing." She whispers into the demon's neck before kissing it. She closes her eyes at the warmth radiating through the once cold skin as Hope's hands brush back the glistening trestles hanging around her face. Like a mother with her child, but proud and possessive of her spoils.
"I didn't know it could be like this. Ares never . . ." She pulls Xena back to look into her eyes. She traces her fingers down the warrior's jaw, then over her lips. At the softness, she can't control herself. She takes another deep kiss, taking Xena's breath. The warrior moves against her again. Hope's head flies back and a series of moans escape. The demon meets her warlord's eyes again, putting a hand on her cheek, which Xena instinctively kisses, just on the inside of her palm. She stops her hips to give her full attention to this simple gesture. "Oh, my Warrior Princess, Destroyer of Nations, my Champion . . . you are a gift from my lord."
"Yeah, well, I try."
"You succeed." The warrior's once clear sky blue eyes grow dark, smoky clouds of color broadening the blues to those like sapphires. The warlord almost looks compassionate as she stares deeply into her goddess' eyes. The Conquer teases. She uses only her tongue to taste the demon's lips, pulling back after each brief touch; her top, then her bottom lip; Hope willingly parts them; the roof of her mouth, over her tongue, Xena has her begging. Every time the goddess moves to kiss her, the warrior stops all movement. Soon she has Hope whimpering with need. She feels the demon's hips start to rock excruciatingly slow against her. The flame ignites again in the pit of her stomach, and soon the warlord loses her focus in the aching need. But Xena refuses to let her have any control, the need to dominate and own another's body intact and as strong as ever. She grabs hold of Hope's hips and roughly pushes her harder against the wall to still them.
"Not so fast." Xena whispers, "Are you mine?" The warrior licks across the demon's bare shoulder and over the hot wound.
"Yes, my warrior." The goddess sounds as she did before, now not so desperate for Xena's touch, but in the cold, dark voice she knows will drive the warlord insane: "If you'll call yourself mine." Suddenly the full length of Hope's tongue paints a trail over the cords of Xena's neck, up her cheek, and under her ear. The tall woman shudders at the strange yet erotic feel of cool air causing goose bumps to rise on her newly moistened skin. "Do you belong to me?"
"No one owns the Conquerer." Anger rises in the Descendant of Dahak. Xena can feel it, the demon's skin now on fire. She steps away as to turn her back on the goddess. But, to Hope's surprise, the Warrior Princess draws her sword and instead of striking a blow put's the tip of the blade to the ground and rests her right hand on the hilt, kneeling on one knee before her lover. "I've never done this before . . ." she keeps her head down as if the decision she's made weighs heavy on her. "I have never given my blade to anyone . . ." the dark, leather clad warrior squares her shoulders, takes Hope's hand in her left, and looks up into the demon's expressionless face. Xena's jaw is clenched as if in pain, but she looks into Hope's eyes and softens (as much as the darkness will allow). "I, Xena of Amphipolis, Warrior Princess, Destroyer of Nations, pledge to the future Empress of the World: my heart, with its loyalty her, my sword, fighting for any and all her purposes, and my body . . ." the warrior kisses the top of her goddess' hand and a grin curls upon her face as she stares at Hope again, the demon's gaze now on the verge of uncontrollable lust for the words falling from her champion's lips, ". . . to do with as she pleases."
"You pledge to me? What of Dahak?"
"Only you. If you wish me to serve him I'll only do so in your name. I'm only yours."
"You give yourself so freely . . . Why? What do you get out of it?" The warrior returns her sword to its scabbard and stands her full height, an aura of strength and sensuality; darkness itself. Hope stays regally still; only her eyes show the surging of emotions, desire at the fore front, traces of confusion and hate, and that small trace of her humanity, residing in her human half, desperately screaming for love.
Xena closes in on the demon again and whispers into her ear, "You." Hope, without thinking, hugs the warrior to her, her head on Xena's chest and her arms up along her back with a shoulder in each hand. She kneads the muscles under her palms in admiration of the power lying coiled just below smooth, tanned skin. The warrior's shoulders, her arms, back, hips, all get the same lavish attention. The goddess is hasty and almost needy in her caresses, sighs of contentment escape her and suddenly she seems not so evil but merely . . . human. Her champion wraps strong arms around her small waist, giving her all the time she needs.
