Alecto put the hand on her lower abdomen expectantly and froze.
Oh gods, it was there.
She could feel it.
She had already half-lost hope, after days of trying to no avail, but it worked, gods — it worked.
Trying to get a grip on herself before her sisters arrived, she breathed deep to calm down, but she was all quivery. Well, she would have to break the news to her sisters, obviously, eventually, but to be honest, she had no idea how — as much as she loved to have her plans carefully laid out and precisely executed, this had been a spur of the moment.
For now, it was going to remain her little secret weapon.
For now.
So, from now on, she could relax a little, and let things brew in their own sauce; let Ares go on playing house with Xena for another day or two, before Alecto would pay him another friendly visit to catch up and continue their negotiations.
As long as both him and Xena remained in that wretched village, there was no risk of him regaining his godhood anyway.
#
Ares couldn't believe it.
If he thought he'd known what humiliation was before — he hadn't known shit.
He couldn't decide if it was better to do it standing or kneeling down — it was hard to reach the basin when he was standing — also, bending over made him nauseous — but at the same time, when he was on his knees he couldn't reach all the way down to the bottom of the basin where he kept dropping the soap.
Yeah, yeah, it was his choice to use the basin. Pelagia recommended going to the river, claiming that cold water was supposedly the fastest way to wash off blood from fabrics, but when he learned that going to the river incorporated walking through the very middle of the village with an armful of blood-covered bedsheets, he decided he'd rather spend twice the time washing the damn sheets in the quiet of the back yard, having — unfortunately, it came with the job — just the old witch as a witness.
As bad as it already was, having been degraded to doing the most humiliating chore so far — although reminiscing of how the blood had ended up covering so much of the sheets was a very fond memory — the throbbing headache was making his ears ring. Also, he had to be careful not to bend over too much so as not to throw up into the basin — that would significantly slow down the washing process, increasing the risk of Kyrillos or Xena catching him in the compromising act of doing laundry.
Then finally, with everything hanging on the ropes as per the little old tyrant's instructions, he was finally free to go; and it made him so happy he was at a loss for what to do with this newly found freedom.
He had to do something about the headache.
The ocean of water he'd pouring into himself ever since he woke up hadn't done much, apart from making him take a piss every five minutes.
Walking into the kitchen as he took the last sip out of the waterskin, he decided it was time for a change of strategy. Yes, it was time to fill the waterskin with the dark red contents of the fat barrel sitting in the far left corner of the kitchen.
Groaning, he suckled on the mouthpiece until he filled his stomach with at least half of the contents.
He looked around. This place felt a bit different now, he observed, thinking back to the time he spent here with Kyrillos last evening. It was a blurry but fond memory. The old guy was okay, for a mortal.
He wondered what punishment Kyrillos got for last night. Judging by his absence, the hag must have sent him on some quest, maybe shopping, or whatever mortal husbands had to do to repent for choosing to have a good time over letting their wives make their life miserable.
Taking another swig, he wondered what Xena would make him do in such case; he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that, whatever that could be, it would've been way worse than shopping and laundry combined; she was merciless like that. But damn him if that wasn't what he loved about her.
Gods, he needed to lie down or his head would fall off his shoulders.
Having refilled the wineskin for the second time, he headed back to the barn.
#
It wasn't that bad, actually, he thought, looking around.
He was the only tenant, so at least he didn't have to share his quarters with cows or pigs or whatever other filth mortals kept in barns. The hay didn't make a great bedding, but it was way more bearable now that Kyrillos had brought him some rags and sheepskins.
And most importantly, he was alone.
He'd actually never realized how much he needed alone time; not until he couldn't have it at the snap of his fingers anymore. It was one of the worst things about being mortal. Being stuck with people, in places, when he no longer wanted to be there — it felt suffocating, like he was drowning. Sometimes it would get overwhelming to a point where he needed hours of alone time after, to recover to even be able to have another social interaction afterwards.
It wasn't much as bad with Xena; he noticed he had much higher tolerance for having her around than he did with others; but he always reached a limit eventually.
And then there were times when the need to be alone stemmed from a very prosaic reason. He'd always had a huge sex drive, but now that he was mortal and didn't have the usual control over it — it was a nightmare. He hoped it would calm down with time, eventually; having to relieve himself five times a day was starting to be a bit of a nuisance.
Lazily, he reclined against his make-shift bed.
The headache was gone, he realized, taking another sip. The wine seemed to be helping. It actually didn't feel that bad to be here; if he closed his eyes and transported himself to some nice spot of his choice. It was the only way he could travel these days; and he would do it often. He would usually go check on his favorite commanders leading his most prominent campaigns; or visit Xena when she was going to sleep on her bedroll in the middle of the woods, alone; he would keep her up all night, till she begged him to stop when she couldn't take it anymore.
After those visits he needed to relieve himself twice in a row, and sometimes it still wasn't enough. Nothing had ever be enough when it came to her.
Last night felt a lot like one of those trips, actually. Well, apart from the all-night thing. The glimpses were now running through his head again. He thought it was a dream when he woke up this morning.
It was blurry, but gods, no, it wasn't a dream. She was his last night, for real.
Damn alcohol robbed him of details, but some of it he remembered; her whispers in his ear, the little sounds she made, the way she was clinging to him; the memory was making him hard again.
He sighed, taking another sip out of the wineskin, his lids heavy, falling shut.
Tell me I'm yours…
He choked, spitting the wine all over his pants.
Grab my neck…
Struggling for breath, he wiped his hand in his pants, shaken from the unexpectedly sudden release, which now triggered new waves of memories; not just from last night.
Panting, he pressed his fingers against his burning temples. It was flooding him, all of it, wave by wave and then all at once, making him groan.
He had to see her. Not in this state; he had to compose himself first. But he had to confront her. Did she remember it all? How come he didn't until now?
He had to chill a bit. Lying back down, he closed his eyes again, taking a slow deep breath.
Ares… it's okay, it was menstrual blood.
He hummed, feeling her touch as she pulled him close to her chest. His eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding so loud it was making his headache come back.
He needed to see her, if she was okay.
He had to go.
Opening the barn door, he winced, standing face to face with Pelagia.
Oh, great, why so late? A moment earlier would have really made a difference. Sneaky and perfect timing, just like Blondie. Seriously, the two were going to love each other, he could bet on it.
"Hi there," he smiled at the old hag with the most fake smile he could muster.
"I'm off to work; my husband won't be back for another hour or two, so I'm leaving you responsible for the household, dear," Pelagia said, piercing him with that glare of hers. "Your wife's asleep, don't wake her yet. There's breakfast on the kitchen table — in case you decide it is time to have some solid food, for a change." She smiled with a subtle venom.
"I'll see you later, then," Ares said, holding back a grimace, then letting it go as he watched Pelagia's back get smaller, her silhouette shrinking in the distance until she was out of sight — just the way he liked to see her.
#
Xena woke up to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.
Blinking to catch focus, she saw Ares sitting himself at her side, piercing her with eyes so serious it alarmed her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just, uhm, just wanted to check on you," he responded, exhaling.
She couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but she could tell he was distressed.
"Well, apart from the fact I can hardly sit up, I'm just great."
Before she knew it, he jerked the pillow from under her head, grabbed her under her arms and lifted her up, placing the pillow behind her back. "You mean, after last night?" he asked sultrily, a twinkle of subtle amusement in his eyes.
His lips so close, his subtly sweaty scent in her nostrils, his hands sliding down her sides to her waist; it was too much. Glancing down to the huge hands at her waist, she had to close her eyes to stay in one piece.
He smelled like alcohol, but different than last time; not ale.
"Have you been drinking again?" she queried, trying to put some safe distance between them.
"Just some wine to get rid of the hangover."
"Oh, I see."
"What? Xena, please, not you too," he grimaced. "It's bad enough I have the old witch on my tail."
He collapsed next to her, his back taking up most of the bed width and leaving her suddenly very close to the edge. She pushed back, her leg pressing along his side; and suppressed a gasp when she felt his hand stroke her knee over the thin sheet.
"Pelagia? What does Pelagia have to do with it?" she asked hurriedly.
"The old hag clearly has a problem with people having a good time and derives pleasure from punishing them for it," he said, so sulkily that she had to hold back laughter.
"Like what?"
"She made me do things."
"What things?"
"Things I'd rather not talk about."
She couldn't help it; she laughed out, shaking.
"Yeah, very funny, Xena."
She wanted to tease him some more but, realizing that his ego might be somewhat fragile now that he was mortal, she decided it was best to do it in small doses. She patted the top of his head, brushing his forehead with her thumb, reveling in how good it felt to touch him like that. "I'm sorry."
He purred in utter pleasure, his eyes closed. "I love it when you apologize," he said, the throaty tone of his voice making her stomach flutter in spite of herself.
"Oh, you just wait until I make you apologize…" She grabbed his hair. He caught her wrist and pulled her close roughly, her head landing on his chest.
It was so wonderfully overwhelming she had to squeeze her eyes shut. Feeling him cradle her head made her cling to him fully. She could feel her heart pounding into his flesh, and it felt so good; too good; too good to endure.
She shouldn't be doing this; digging her grave like that.
"Ares… how much do you remember?" she suddenly asked. This was good. She wanted to ask him anyway, and now was as good time as any, maybe even better if he was drunk and might be more open and maybe even miss some bits of this conversation tomorrow — and she would get a grip on herself in the meantime.
"Remember of what?" he asked with sheer confusion.
"Of last night."
"Why? I was hanging out with Kyrillos."
"Hanging out?" She bit down a smile at his choice of expression and the way his face subtly lit up at the mention of the old man. God of War making friends with mortals, that was definitely a first.
"Well yeah, we had a couple of mugs of ale and, well, I don't exactly remember the rest…"
"You don't?"
"I came here and we talked, I think."
"You think?" She could swear he was pulling her leg but the genuine confusion in his eyes seemed so honest that she was confused herself. "You remember how we had that fight the other day, at the pond?"
"What?" He creased his brows.
"We had a fight, at the pond," she hovered at his side, propping herself up on her right elbow. "After the fight, what happened?"
"What do you mean, Xena? We came here."
"And before we came here?"
He sighed loudly, frowning his forehead in confusion. "Oh."
"Oh, what?"
"Actually, Xena, I was hoping you would tell me."
"What?" she asked, frowning.
"Yeah, I wanted — no, I wanted to ask you what the fuck happened. Why did we fight in the first place?"
She held her breath. So, he claimed he didn't remember the madness. If it was true, it was good. It was, right? Somehow, she wasn't as happy about it as she'd thought she would be. "Ares… You remember how we were back at your camp, Gabrielle and I? You sent for me to get the ambrosia from the Amazons."
"Oh, rub it in, why don't ya."
"Somewhere around that time," she went on, "the Furies happened." She waited to see if that would take any effect.
"Oh, I do remember the Furies. I even remember the exact time I came round and heard their voices from outside of my head."
She weighed her options. "But you don't remember the fight itself or just what led to it?"
It seemed like he stopped to think, like he was raking through his memory for it.
"Not really much of any of it. I do remember I kicked your ass, though."
"You what…?" she almost choked.
"Why, Xena, it's you who got concussion, so I figured…"
"You son of a…" She knew he was provoking her, and well, it fucking worked; she wanted to strangle him.
"Xena, you were passed out when I came round, so that must count for something."
"It does — it means I let you win."
"Oh, so you admit I won," he grinned with that asshole grin of his. "Wait, you what?"
"You see, since you set out to kill me — in case that has escaped your memory — and we ended up beating the shit out of each other, I tried to take it easy on you, now that you're mortal and—"
"And so you went easy on me by letting me knock you out?" he laughed, not taking the bait. "Gotta give it to you, Xena — that's generous, even for you!"
"Ares… the plan was to fight you until the Furies show up — and throw the chakram at them."
"Oh, so you were planning on offing them, lying there unconscious?"
She clenched her teeth and pressed her lids shut, breathing out slowly. "Something went wrong." She still didn't quite get it, though. Her period starting was one thing, it could've given her cramps, slight heaviness, yes, but the mental and physical paralysis that had hit her back then was more than that; it was like a spell, unnatural. It didn't make sense, though.
"Yes, dear, you were saying…?"
"I got dizzy and couldn't move…"
"Yeah, Xena, I know — it's called losing a fight, baby."
"Alright Ares, go ahead and feed your ego with the one time you won, and only because I wasn't feeling feel."
"And?"
"And what?" she frowned.
"And what is the next thing you remember, that is — after losing the fight?" he asked with a knowing grin in his eyes.
Of course; he remembered it all. That son of a bitch… he was fucking with her, as usual.
She grabbed him by the throat but he swiftly used her other arm as leverage to push her back on the bed and crush her with his body weight; she was still no match for him in her current state.
"Now, be a good girl and answer my question." He bit into her neck, making her shudder.
Heat flooding her, she wanted to both kill him and beg him to fuck her.
"So?" he prompted, pinning her hands above her head with one hand easily. "What's the next thing you remember?" he mused, hovering over her face, smelling like wine, his lips parted, so deliciously fleshy and full. They would sure bleed a lot if she had a bite.
He nuzzled her cheek, so softly it was impossible. "You loved it," he whispered, breathing close to her ear, making her face and ears burn in an instant."You loved it, baby… your heart's telling me you did," he slipped one hand down, until his palm rested between her breasts, making her heartbeat go turbulent, pulsing under his touch. Lazily, his hand moved to cup her left breast. "Your heart's going wild, Xena," his thumb circled the nipple, making her close her eyes.
"Fuck off…" she hissed, but failed to hold back little whimpers when he kept on touching and squeezing.
"I love those little sounds you make for me," he moved down to nuzzle her neck and then moved back to look her in the eye. "You're so beautiful when you blush like that." His mouth glided along the side of her face, his lips soft against the burning skin of her face.
It shouldn't surprise her. Of course he was going to pretend he didn't remember, only to throw her humiliation in her face and and rub it in; deceive and toy with her, as he always did. It wasn't surprising. And it wasn't a big deal, really.
And so, it took her by surprise, how much it made her blood boil; but gods, she couldn't remember the last time she felt such rage. Son of a bitch. And here she was, an idiot, thinking his mortality changed anything.
Well, at least he could bleed.
Her lips found the soft, warm skin of his neck and she teased a bit; kissing, nibbling, making him moan. Then, giving it a long lick, she sank her teeth into the flesh till she felt it tear open, the warm liquid flooding her lips.
"Fuck," he growled, grabbing her by the throat until she choked.
She spat the blood in his face, piercing him with a glare, licking the iron taste off lips, eyes burning into his, the taste of his blood setting her ablaze.
Closing his eyes, he loosened his grip on her neck and took a slow breath in through clenched teeth; she could see he was trying to calm down.
Well, she didn't want him to calm down. "You're not scared of a little pain and blood, are you? Didn't keep you away before…" she purred, and gasped when he abruptly pulled the bloody sheet from under her, straddled her and tied her wrists to the bed post.
Her healthy self would have broken the knot in a single pull while breaking the bed while she was at it, but right now all she could do was yank at the binding helplessly, then moan when he wrapped another layer of fabric around her wrists, squishing them painfully together.
"That'll help you be a good girl," he mused, his hand making its way under the thin layer of flimsy fabric that still kept them away. She pressed her thighs shut but he forced his knee between hers and found what he was looking for, what she ached for him to find, making her moan out of control.
"You can't run, Xena… and you're fucking loving it…" he breathed against her face. "You're dying for me to take you and own you, to possess you…" He parted his lips and looked at hers, making the burning sensation in her face spread over the rest of her body, his hand between her thighs making her legs quiver. "It drives you wild when you can't run from me…" He leaned in until his mouth brushed her ear, "You came so hard on me then…" he whispered, taking all her breath away, "…you would've driven me mad if I hadn't been already…"
She groaned when his fingers slipped inside her, erasing all previous thoughts from her mind. His wild eyes never leaving hers, he lifted the bloody digit to his lips, sucking it clean. "I love it that you're bleeding, it gets me hot."
"You're sick," she groaned, gasping for breath. It was impossible how they were so fucked up in the same way. If she'd been dying for him before, right now she was about to turn to ashes; and her voice was gone, but she still trembled in fear of what could've left her lips if she stopped biting her tongue.
"Oh, yes, we're made for each other, baby…" he said calmly, nibbling on her pulsing nipple through the thin linen of her shift. "No one, in thousands of years — no one has made me come as hard as you did back then," he breathed in her ear, making her buck her hips against him uncontrollably. He pushed so many buttons that she now needed him to push them all.
„I can't stop thinking about it," He nibbled on her neck before kissing down to her collarbone. „I love it how your body responds to me, how sensitive your skin is. I love feeling it, feeling you all around me…" He dragged her shift up, exposing her already open thighs and, torturously slowly, he started to push himself in, his eyes locked on hers in a way she wouldn't have escaped even if she wanted to. And gods, she didn't want to; she ached to be bare and exposed to him now, for him to take it all, all of her, however he wanted; and had to keep biting her tongue to stop herself from saying it.
But he knew.
"It drives you insane, doesn't it… you hate yourself for it, for how you crave for me to break you in," he breathed in her ear, biting into her earlobe painfully, "for how much you wanna be mine…"
If she hadn't now sucked in her cheeks and bit down on the flesh, she could swear she would've otherwise woken up the whole village and a few neighboring ones.
"I love it how you burn for me, baby. It drives me wild." He rolled her shift up to her neck, kissing his way around her exposed chest. "You, all of you, every inch of you… you're mine." He nibbled on the meaty flesh of her breast, nuzzling the nipple with the tip of his nose. "I love it when you beg me to say it…" he whispered, grinding his hips into her violently, biting into her neck, a jolt of sharp pain sending a shiver throughout her body; and she felt herself dissolving, her vision going white, his breath always in her ear, the words she didn't hear anymore.
And then, just a feeble, fleeting thought as his fingers closed around her throat; the glimpse of dim realization that he could kill her now. And, an even dimmer one; that she didn't care at all.
