You're The Reason, a xena: warrior princess fanfic

You're The Reason

Blurb: She's making a name for herself as a warlord and she's damn good at it; impresses the God of War himself. A lot. So much, that he promises her the power to conquer the world. And rouses feelings in her that become an obstacle in the way. An obstacle that needs to be removed.

#darkromance, #angst, #obsession, #evil, #passion, #desire, #emotional sex, #unrequitedlove, #heartache, #introspection, #inner dialogue, #inner conflict, #stream of consciousness, #hurt/comfort, #psychological drama

Author's notes: vignette, one shot; set somewhere around the time when Xena still had anger management issues.

Pairing: Xena/Ares (F/M), Rating: M

Copyright disclaimer: The characters from the series Xena: Warrior Princess belong to the Renaissance Pictures.

She watched him; the arrogant swag as he paced around her army tent lazily, the black, leather ensemble not giving real justice to what lay underneath. The most gorgeous body she ever fucked, all of him; broad shoulders, arms that could crush her ribcage in a heartbeat; even his hands, the left one resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip; a palm so big he could probably snap her neck single-handedly, fingers so thick that the very sight made her core burn.

She watched; as he stopped by the table and, full lips pursing slightly, studied the parchment spread over it; the map of her current little tour across Greece. It was nothing, really, just a little pillage here and there – why would he be so overly invested in a minor warlord like her roused her suspicion from day one – well, at first it was carnal, then he appreciated how good she was at killing people and getting people to kill for her – and it was all very nice while it lasted, but after the stunt he just pulled – this wasn't going to work anymore. He was going to pay for this. No matter how good it felt to—

She couldn't kill him.

Not in conventional ways. He was a god. Gods were immortal.

But not omniscient, apparently. Because he was oblivious to the fact that, under all the bearskins he was about to fuck her on, she kept a particular kind of dagger, a present from a friendly shamaness; an artifact that would make a god bleed to death within minutes, if the blade sank deep enough into the heart artery; just where it had to end up if she wanted to free herself of him.

She had been impressed with him at first.

The God of War.

The first time she saw him, she was mesmerized. She had him minutes later, in her tent, threw him down on the furs and rode him like the world was ending. They didn't speak a word; he locked her in his grip and fucked so long and hard she didn't know what her name was. No mortal man had ever managed this, to wear her out like this. She was hooked; had him daily since then, usually right after a battle, blood-covered and sweaty, they were both filthy like that. They were perfect together. If she had a heart, he would've been the love of her life.

She loved everything about him; the unquenchable bloodlust, his darkness and chaos, how cold-blooded he was, how merciless. He promised her power, a power way beyond pillage and plunder; he said the world would tremble at their feet. Top of the world. This was exactly where she saw herself very soon.

And yes, she knew it would cost her.

But if he wanted to spread his seed, there were millions of other wombs for that. She was made for bigger things. Things that he was starting to hold her back from.

That wasn't the deal.

"Cirra," he said, his brows furrowing, and looked up from over the map, their eyes meeting. She loved how long and curly his hair was, always making her ache to grab a handful.

"Tomorrow," she said dismissively. Cirra was just another dump she was raiding this week, nothing worth mentioning. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was nervous and trying to make small talk.

Tossing away one of her gauntlets she was toying with, she got up and walked over to where he stood. "Are you done?" she glared him straight in the eye, ostensibly folding the parchment.

"With the map, yes – with you, not yet," he said, his voice low and throaty, his body pressing against her back as he grabbed and swung her around; she arched into him with a shiver, the map dropping to the floor.

And then, he did it again; put a hand on her stomach, stroking around. She hated when he did that, the way it made her feel; and hated herself for not stopping him, letting him drag her down with him.

"If I'd known this was what you needed me for, I wouldn't have wasted a second on you," she said with dismay.

"It's only one of the things I need you for," he said, his whisper warm against her ear. "You'll just give birth and you're free to go. The child will be raised in Sparta, you won't ever see it. Well, unless…"

"Unless what?" she frowned, her eyes closing as his palm kept roaming around.

"Unless you wanna keep it and raise it together."

"What…?" she almost choked. "What the fuck are you talking about? What else, you wanna get married and move in together?"

With every next silent second she felt blood leave her face more and more. At first, she waited for him to say something, now she was scared he would. "If you think I'll be your breeding bitch, you're out of your godly little mind."

"It's not a big price to pay for the favor of the God of War, don't you think?"

She left his embrace, walked away from the table; confused, annoyed with her quickened heartbeat. She had to snap out of it. She stopped in front of the fur bed; took off her other gauntlet and let it drop to the floor, then unhooked the breastplate, the heavy piece of brass falling to the fur-covered ground almost soundlessly. She wished he would just fuck her and get lost; she wasn't in the mood for all this. "If that's your price, I don't need you anymore."

"Don't you, really?" he sneered. "Suit yourself, then," he said, raising his hand to dematerialize.

"In fact, I don't even need you to get rid of this. I'll very well do it myself."

His eyes flashed as he caught the bait, charge filling the air, covering her skin in gooseflesh as he approached, his eyes darkening, drilling into hers like she was pulling him in. Gods yes, this was all she wanted, this was the god she knew; livid and about to fuck the life out of her.

"You'll do no such thing." He threw her down on the furs and pinned her with his weight. Thrown off guard by his reaction, she found herself melting into his lips, her face burning under the mouth kissing her the way that made her heart race, the way they never kissed. She was right, he was growing soft. And he was going to hold her back. And that she couldn't allow. No matter how good it felt.

She reached between them, ripping off her underwear. "Get rid of this," she growled, tugging at his pants – he could've made their clothes disappear with a snap of his fingers – and then he did, and gave her what she wanted – but when she urged him on, he pinned her down with his hips and held her trapped, forcing the slow pace that was driving her insane.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed breathlessly as he nuzzled the side of her face, following the path with his mouth, so softly and slowly that it sent shivers through her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he teased, his breath hot in her ear.

"Just fuck me." She bucked under him impatiently.

"I am fucking you," he said, the maddening heat of his mouth capturing her lips as his grip tightened around her wrists so hard she winced, a stark contrast to how he thrusted into her slowly, nuzzling the inside of her arm, lapping at the skin softly, tracing the path up to her elbow.

"That's not fucking," she breathed, trying to shake off the feeling of being so bare in front of him – which didn't even make sense, he'd seen her naked inside and out, but gods—"

"Tell me you don't like it…" he taunted huskily, his mouth roaming over her collarbone and lower, down the side of her breast, reaching spots no mouth had touched before,

"I don't," she voiced a breathless protest, unable to stop shaking.

"You're not very convincing."

She always loved sex with him but gods, he was pushing some buttons she didn't know were there, that shouldn't have been there - she needed to snap out of it – son of a bitch…

"You're loving it," he purred as he kept nibbling slowly, the rhythm of his moves getting yet slower; she blinked rapidly, feeling her eyes well up.

"No."

"Yes, you do," he breathed against her open mouth, driving himself so deep inside her that she shuddered, her eyes about to overflow. "Tell me you love it…"

"No…" she managed to utter as her tears fell without a single blink. "What the fuck are you doing to me…"

"Say you love it," he whispered, nipping at her lower lip, kissing up her cheek, his mouth finding the tears on her temple even though she turned her face to escape it, and again, he buried himself inside her slowly, so completely she thought she'd stop breathing; and he just kept pushing, just inches back and forth, so deep it should hurt, but all it did was make her lower abdomen pulse with such heat she thought she'd faint it this went on; and it did, until she couldn't see anymore, until she clenched her fists on his hair and felt she was dying, until she could barely make out what he was saying.

"Tell me you love it…"

"Yes," she breathed, giving up, her lids falling shut, tears streaming down her temples.

"Say it…"

"I do…" she said, barely conscious, lightheaded. "I love you…"

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his hazy ones, a shiver of panic sweeping over her; but he said nothing; his only reaction was clutching her wrists so hard she was sure he'd break her bones, and driving her over the edge with such wild thrusts she couldn't recognize her own voice anymore.

It surely didn't last as long as it felt it did, because it wasn't possible; but long enough to fuck her up so badly she could hardly move. Her muscles limp and twitching, she pushed him off her and rolled to her side, her bent legs going to her chest on their own accord, her hand blindingly reaching for something to cover her shivering body with, her chest tensing in a wave of sobs she tried to hold in.

"Get the fuck away from me," she said, panting, when she realized he was still there; that, instead of disappearing as he always did, he was there behind her, his arms around her, pulling her close, his breath warm on her face when he asked if he hurt her.

"Let go of me…"

"Let me see," he reached up her thigh. She threw her head back and moaned when he touched her. He retracted his hand immediately. "I'm sorry," he said, sliding his hand up to her stomach.

She bit her lip and eased into his embrace; it felt so weird, like when she was little and her mother used to hold her when she had nightmares; the woman who used to be her mother; the child she used to be. She didn't need those memories, they were just holding her back, like he was. One more thing to cure herself from.

She was glad he thought she was hurt, that he didn't know it wasn't pain that caused this pathetic outbreak. She didn't know what did. This fucking weakness he was infecting her with. Didn't he always say emotions were a weakness? A weakness that needed to be gone. He needed to be gone.

She waited; for her hands to stop quivering, for his embrace to stop feeling like it was the air she needed to breathe.

Slowly, she reached under the furs.

She always had a good reflex; god or not, he stood no chance. Before he had time to open his mouth, the blade was buried between his ribs up to the hilt. Wide eyed, choking, he pulled it out and, mouth agape, gazed at the river of crimson flowing down the sides of his chest, they both did, before he fell back on the furs and their eyes met.

"Dagger of Helios," she said in an answer to the question in his eyes.

"Why…?" he asked, swallowing with effort. "I would've given you everything…"

"I know… but you wanted everything in return."

"When you said you loved me…" he breathed, making her cringe at the memory. "Did you mean it?" he uttered weakly, his lids falling shut.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she waited; pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, and waited.

The pulse was gone.

The tears that clouded her vision, now rolled down her face, her throat going numb, closing up till she gasped for air.

How fucking clueless he was.

It was the biggest reason of all.

THE END