Somehow, he'd thought that getting her into bed would be somewhat of a milestone; or that it would change things to some extent, at least.
Well, it sort of did. Just… not the way he expected.
Maybe he shouldn't be seeing her that often.
Well, it wasn't a big deal, it was just — new. Letting go like that.
She did that to him, somehow.
Up until now, he didn't know it was possible; to lose track of time, slow his mind down, not be ever-alert, aware of everything there was, everywhere at once. That never happened before, ever, no matter the activity he engaged in; he could be doing five things at once and still be alert.
But when he was with her, it was like, as soon as he was inside her, everything else switched off; it was like falling into a trance. And he always needed a while to recover afterwards, way longer than usual, for the reality to kick back in, for his mind to regain focus. He wondered if it was like that for her, too.
Not that he would ask her.
She didn't need to know that she, a mere mortal, affected him like this, in ways that he was genuinely confused by, if not alarmed, and not too proud of in the first place.
Well, it was nothing serious really, just — she was just — interesting.
Intriguing.
And fun to be around; he loved their banter.
But it wasn't like he needed to see her — well, the carnal side of their relationship blew his mind, he couldn't deny it — but it wasn't like he couldn't live without it. It was good fun while it still lasted; entertaining, yes, like mortals sometimes were, but it wasn't like he came back home and thought about it, about her.
Well, he did on occasion, when he was bored out of his mind, fed up with his current campaigns, and was just in the mood for some temporary distraction. Those were the moments he would drop by.
At times, he'd find her on the road. Sometimes, in some village, keeping some losers from killing one another, or teaching them how to defend themselves against the ones who wanted to kill them, or saving many other kinds of imbeciles and cowards who didn't have brains to manage their lives by themselves, or skills and balls to protect their homes and families — and other boring things of the sort, all equally ridiculous and useless.
He loved taunting, teasing her about it. And their sword fights — meant to rile her up, trigger that inner fire she kept suppressing, but what they did mostly was get him so ablaze that he just wanted to fuck the life out of her — which he usually did afterwards — and gods, he could do just that for the rest of his life — it was like they were custom made for each other, the way they fit together, the way she — gods, she pushed the buttons he didn't even know he had.
And he knew she felt the same, even if she kept it to herself. Well, it couldn't have been otherwise — there was no way he wasn't the best lover she ever had. He always made sure she was inarticulate when he was done with her; very well-fucked, that was how he liked to see her; that was how she was supposed to remember him.
Though, if he was to be honest with himself, it did sting him a bit that she never voiced it the way women usually did. Well, never mind, it was stupid, just sheer vanity, that was all. Fair enough — after all, he never told her anything, either. She knew she was good, she saw what she did to him, the effect she had on him — he stopped hiding it eventually, it was too exhausting — and seeing all that, she was already quite pleased with herself — she didn't need to know how far in his charts she made it.
"Not all they say about you is true," she said once, still out of breath, stretching herself over the black, silken plane of the bed; a hint of playful tease in her voice.
"What do you mean?"
"Women you slept with. You said all they say about you is true. It's not."
"Am I going to like what you're about say?" he asked, grinning. He meant is as a joke, but the truth was, he tensed inside.
"I don't know…" she taunted.
Gods, she was good, able to keep him on his toes with the stupidest of things. How the Tartarus did she do it? Well, she didn't do anything special, it was just — why did it affect him like this?
"Are you gonna tell me… or do I have to fuck it out of you?" he asked, stroking up and down her thigh lazily.
"What do you think?" she threw him a glare, the narrowing, catlike blue eyes doing to him what they always did when she pinned him with that look.
But he stopped himself, curbing the instinct to flip her over and pin her to the mattress. She was only mortal, and had just endured an hour with him; she had to be sore by now. Mortal women got sore fast; and well, him being more than well-endowed didn't help.
"So, what's it gonna be?" She ran her tongue up his chest, already on top of him, straddling him. Gods, the way she looked from that perspective — when she ran a hand through her hair, towards the top of her head, and then let go, making the silky-black streams of hair spill down her shoulders and chest — he could watch her do it forever.
He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, till she was seated on his chest, till he could reach her with his mouth; and he did, soft and teasing at first, more hungrily as he felt the tension build up in her, making his own arousal grow, like each brush of his mouth and tongue affected him, too, somehow; as if her taste, her scent wasn't intoxicating enough.
She squirmed, trying to grind her hips, rub herself against him when he pulled away. He didn't let her, it only made his grip on her hips tighten. When she tried to grab his hair, he flicked his fingers and she was chained, arms-up, shackles around her wrists tied to a chain hanging from the ceiling.
"That will teach you to interrupt…" he said, glaring up at her, and gods, the look in her face… like she was both dying and about to kill him, her eyes wild, sending a jolt over his groin.
"I'm gonna kill you…" she whispered shakily, helplessly, more like a plea than a threat.
"Good luck with that." He raised his brows and, his eyes closing, claimed her with his mouth again.
She did kill him, though; when he felt she was close, when he got snapped out of his trance by the sound of her voice; so beautifully desperate, like he never heard it, like a prayer. "Look at me…" she begged, and he did, a wave of heat spreading over him when he met her gaze; and he didn't know if this was what pushed her over the edge, but he couldn't take his eyes off her till the end, till her body went limp in his grasp.
This time, she didn't leave the bed like she always did, shortly after. He realized it when he caught himself staring, for what he felt was definitely longer than he usually did. He generally tried not to — he didn't like it when she caught him staring, it made him feel exposed, somehow — but right now, she didn't see him, her lids shut. And he kept looking, his eyes following the perfect line of her nose and forehead, her chest heaving with gradually calmer, slower, but still slightly shaky breaths, lips parted, juicy red, as always when she was recovering from her release; and he stared, and wondered — yes, she was gorgeous — but he bedded more stunning beauties than her, both mortal and goddesses — and yet, somehow, he didn't remember being nearly half as enthralled as he was now.
And he definitely didn't recall pleasing a woman to such extent; or enjoying it that much.
Well, it was a part of the game. If he was going to seduce the fuck out of her, get her under his thumb, he had to give it all of himself. And if he enjoyed it while he was on it, well, good for him.
Though, when she made a comment on it, finally answering his question, she caught him off guard; for a second, he didn't know what to say.
"They say you're not too generous as a lover." She turned to her side, propped herself on an elbow, her breasts pressing against his chest and shoulder "This is the one thing I find not quite accurate about you," she said, her voice smooth as silk.
"Well… not everyone deserves royal treatment," he blurted, trying to shake off the annoying uneasiness overcoming him as he ran his palm up her back, pressing her more into him.
Well, he might as well turn it to his advantage; making her believe she was special might speed up the process, overall. And he could see it made an impact already; she tried to act indifferent, but her eyes betrayed her.
It was a matter of time; till she was in his grasp again; till he saw her leading his army to victories, making him powerful, making his blood run with vigor he hadn't felt in eons; gods, he could feel the rush already.
Having her in bed was a nice interlude, but the real thing was only about to start.
Just a matter of time, Xena… a matter of time.