~ Chapter Twenty One ~

Only Love can hurt like This

Leaving only a vague whoosh behind them, Ares transported them both to the Halls of War, or what was still left of it, not that there was much to see at that point, except some piles of debris, a few bundles of broken marble and that uncommon limestone smell in the air that made his own lungs compress in a very unnatural way.

Despite the situation he was apparently enjoying though, one hand locked in her bangs for support, Xena choked out on a painful note, observing the destruction presented before her.

"What could be closer than wiping the floor with you, now that I know it won't matter." She concluded, throwing the God off balance with a kick to the knee.

Brushing the blood from her mouth, she lurched forward, slamming him ruthlessly against one of the four remaining columns, the weight of their bodies forcing the structure to collapse under pressure, bringing them down with a mountain of rubble.

Securing his sword from its scabbard, Xena hastily removed herself from atop of Ares' form, her lips burning with fire from that sweet yet fortuitous kiss they'd abruptly shared.

As Ares' incandescent skin was still faintly glowing after that short, unintentional but undoubtingly welcome half tender moment, before Xena broke the spell that is, when every insignificant cell of his immortal body was assaulted by a new, insuppressibly wave of adrenaline as the image of his Princess spinning casually his own sword, tracing elegant and intricate shapes throughout the air captured his full attention, it briefly occurred to him that the stringent look in her eyes could make about anyone believe that she was determined to split even the air itself into two, not to mention any other obstacle that had the misfortune to lay in her way.

A sweet, romantic smile made its way to his dry lips; if anyone could ever believe such a thing about the big bad God of War, as for a millisecond, a flash of an old, priceless memory passed in front of his chocolate brown eyes, mentally transporting him to another place and another time, on a Zeus forsaken beach near the Ionian Sea, when a sixteen year old Xena was training, every inch of her body covered in sweat, just as she was during their current fight, her hair all messed up, but more beautiful than any Goddess or Mortal that he had seen during a millennia of existence.

At that very moment, he was teaching her to master khandas, some very sharp, double edged Indian swords, not very light in blades but contrastingly efficient to what she was used to; powerful weapons, meant to slash and tear at the same time, depending on the cutting angle.

She seemed rather pleased with the results they provided, but she was starting to wear out, and though she didn't say anything, he could tell that her reactions were gradually beginning to slow down, her movements getting more and more predictable, playing defensive where obvious attacks were in order.

Swiftly watching her, he preferred to withdraw his overwhelming offensive for a few moments, enough to give her a chance to pull herself together, taking a rather unofficial break.

But, while he was contemplating the tip of his sword, figuring out the best way to teach her a certain fighting technique he wanted her to know for a very long time now, he took another glance at her, wanting to make a short observation on her body posture when she was doing the double back flips, and he wasn't at all surprised to see that instead of resting she was actually getting ready for the second round, x-ing the air with the heavy swords as trying to find a proper rhythm and balance to her now apparently dynamic movement.

Shaking his head in disapproval, he couldn't help thinking however that he simply adored everything about her; from her sky-like eyes to her stubborn determination to cross him.

The whooshing of his silvery sword finally brought him back to reality, and Xena's inquiring look along with the anxiety coming from their bond, clearly indicated that she must have picked up a little something of his disturbed feelings.

Plus, he wasn't quite the Romeo type of guy that had daydreaming written on top of his daily priority list.

The faint heartache displayed across her features couldn't restrain him from wondering if by any chance she had been remembering the exact same thing, and if that really happened, then how did she feel about it?

Their bond indicated nostalgia and longing, and her eyes were as cloudy as the seawater after an apocalyptic storm.

Was that anger or craving?

He barley parted his lips to say something, but still, all that he managed to say, before covering his mouth with the back of his hand, was a muffled sound that didn't truly resemble to what he meant it to be.

As he slowly ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating the degree of devastation that surrounded them, it somehow hit him that the present image of the Halls of War was indeed the detailed scenery of his own wrecked soul, the perfect embodiment of his drilling pain.

"Xe... Why does it hurt so much?"

"Is that some kind of joke?" She cursed through clenched teeth.

"Face it Ares! This isn't because you like me, it's because you enjoy getting beat down. You're in love with the thrill... it's obviously in your system, even without me around. So really, who's more screwed up?"

"I'm in love with the thrill? What in Tartarus is wrong with you?!" Ares yelled at her as hard as his vocal cords could bear it, his throat hurting as if it were an open infected wound, pure desperation engraved deeply on his features, as the realization that no matter what he did he just wasn't able to reach her frozen heart, hit him worse than a rockfall.

It was like she couldn't hear him, couldn't see him struggling to make himself understood, as if a thick glass wall as high as Olympus itself was breaking them apart, and though they were facing each other, neither of them heard the other one's words, and the more they talked the more they were seeming to lose their trust in each other, misinterpreting every single word that reached their minds as in a faraway dream.

"I'm in love with you! I'd rather die in your arms than live without you in mine, and you're telling me that I'm on the verge of insanity here, just for the fun of it...?" His voice thundered again, amplified by the sharp resonance of the Hall, and for a short span of time, everything seemed to darken all of the sudden as a large blue fireball formed in his palm, and the force he threw it with sent Xena literally flying to the opposite end of the room, strongly colliding with a still standing column that turned into pieces under the impact, burying her under a compact layer of dust and chunks of marble.

Hardly managing to move a muscle, still dizzy after that shocking smash, her brain refusing to block the ripping pain coming from her ribs, the Warrior Princess almost didn't feel Ares' boot pressing against her aching back, or at least that was the God's impression before his torso hit the ground right next to her, smelling closely that chalk-like stench that he disliked so much.

A rough elbow strike, delivered with the last energetic resource she still had, forced Ares to genuinely kiss the floor again, and Xena could swear that if he hadn't been Immortal, the floor would have been soaked in the blood popping from his squashed nose.

In a purely human reaction, probably one of the few that had stuck after the whole Mortal experience thing, he touched the area above his lips, checking if there was any crimson liquid making its way towards his mouth like it occurred several times in the past, none of which were very pleasant.

However, Xena's maddeningly ironic gaze, as if wanting to throw in a line like, 'Too bad you can't oblige me with any blood, right? I'm not that lucky!' only made him wish he could wipe that dirty floor with her limp, bruised body, hitting her until he'd drawn even the last drop of claret out of her, and he almost acted on it, the rapidly well executed left jab he threw in return urging her to lick her chopped lower lip, cleaning the blood that was now dripping from it, to the God's satisfaction.

"Whaddya know? We did get some blood after all! Happy now? Or do you want more?" He continued screaming while rolling on top of her, pinning her arms down by the wrists to prevent her from moving, her laboured breath against his still parted lips stirring inside him something more than mere rage.

And his hungry, lust filled eyes, completed the blanks with everything that was left to be said, as he felt his wrath melting in the teal shadows of her orbs.

"Ares... take a nap!" Her tortured voice cried out between necessary gasps of air, disorientating the God with a quick butt to the head, enough to allow for the Warrior Princess to seize the upper hand, binding his wrists firmly as she leaned forward, colliding her mouth desperately with his own as the ire and suffering gradually began to fade away.

"I love you." He slowly whispered against her warm lips when she finally broke the kiss, that magic union of their tongues that made him shiver with pleasure, his fingers still caressing her long, dark hair, his heart still throbbing like crazy as he watched her sitting on top of him, a priceless smile brightening her resplendent visage, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was indeed unable to live without her.

It might have been a game of some sort at some point in the past, she was after all his trophy, his prize and pride, but only the Fates knew when exactly she had become his own soul, cause' he was literally feeding on her every breath.

"I love you." He murmured once more tightening his hold, and the next moment, he was again the one laying fully on top of her, flattening her hands under his, pressing the tips of his fingers to hers, restricting her every move, and he was still conscious enough to notice that his lustful gaze made her feel a little bit uncomfortable, but there was no way in Tartarus he could have avoided it since he wanted her so badly that he believed he had reached the point where he would have raped her if she resisted him, just to feel her bare-skinned in his arms, vulnerable and addicted to his touches as he hadn't seen her for a very long time now.

It was definitely not the case though, since his Princess seemed to really enjoy herself, searching hungrily for his mouth, and as hard as he was trying to place gentle kisses on her already bleeding and swollen lips, it was almost impossible for him to control his urges, so, gradually, each and every brush of their lips resulted in a violent union that forced red beads of claret to drip languidly down her chin.

It's metallic taste drew his attention nevertheless, and, licking it lazily with the tip of his tongue, he brought one hand downwards to heal them, but his intentions were abandoned somewhere half way, the minute she started placing delicate but extremely hot kisses on the inside of his wrist, instantly impelling him to close his eyes as if obeying a silent command.

One of his palms deliberately started gliding maddeningly slow up and down her thigh, as trying to regain some control over her, coming closer and closer to her crotch with every upstroke, but not close enough though, cunningly making her wish for more, and his warm breath on her neck, craftily mixed with the low insinuations in her ear, turned her on like nothing else ever could, and her face, transformed with desire and fever, made his own breathing sound even more ragged and harsh.

The weight of his strong body pressing her mercilessly against the hard dusty floor, and his sensuous feather-light caresses, had the most amazing effect on her, blurring and whirling her thoughts just like a tornado, he could tell from the somehow confused expression of her face, stubbornly refusing to let her mind fully realize for more than a second what was happening, to became fully aware that he had already started placing playfull bites on her nipples through the smooth material of that incredibly sexy transparent dress.

Almost imperceptibly she started grinding against him, driving his own instincts to move, touching her skin as if he wanted to become part of her.

Sweet mother of Gods! This woman could make him come, only through the simple sound of her voice.

A muffled groan escaped his throat, "Let me whisk us out of here. Somewhere more... comfortable."