Her, Me, Us

Disclaimers: Xena and Gabrielle belong to Universal and all those mates. If you want to sue me for toying with them without asking you, fine. But be warned. There isn't much to get from me anyway.

Note 1: This story deals with a romantic relationship between two adult women. If you don't like that kinda stuff, you're too young to be left alone at home or you live in a state where it is forbidden, please go read something else.

Note 2: Nope. Not this time. Sorry. No graphical sex scenes. Too bad, isn't it?!

Note 3: Thanks to my wonderful girlfriend for editing this little story. You are my Gabrielle......

Note 4: I dedicate this story to my friends Carolin and Anja. I think you are the cutest couple ever! :-)

Note 5: This is the first entry in the Her, Me, Us series I just started. I'm just working on the second story of it. So all I can say is that I think most stories will be connected in some way, but don't have to. I used the title because it mainly describes how the stories are written: from one position of the characters (Me, Us) or from an outside narrator (Her).

I am a student bard. To help me get better please send me your comments about the good and bad sites of this story. Flaming is useless because I have a very trusty rubbish bin.

With a low sigh I sit down on the tree log that we placed beside the fire yesterday when we were making our camp. It's early in the morning. The sun just started peeking through the trees that surround us, getting up for her dayly journey over the sky. It is this hour of the day that I came to love the most. It is this hour when she awakens to a new day.

At the moment she's still deeply in the strong hold of Morpheus. She's laying only some feet away from me, nestled in our bedrolls and blankets. Far neough from me to make any touch impossible. All I can see of her is her reddish - blond hair sticking out of the coccoon she's sleeping safely in.

I take a sip of the hot tea I cooked only some minutes ago and let my eyes wander over the form hidden from my view under the blankets. It is this time of the day when I can watch her and let my thoughts about her and us wander freely. It is this time of the day when her pure presents awakens feelings in me like I had never ever felt before she came into my life. I smile at the memories. At how different my life was before her and of how much everything has changed for me since then.

I turn my head at a close sound. But it is just a bird calling out to it's mate. My eyes return to my companion.

The first rays of the morningsun seem to turn her hair into gold. I've heard people talking about my bard. One of the things they are never sure of is the colour of her hair. Some say she's a blond, some say she's a redhead. I agree with those who find the middle the best to settle for: strawberry blond. But sometimes, to me, it looks like the purest gold. Especially when the sun has a chance to play with it. She laughed at me when I stated one evening that I thought she was growing gold on her head. 'Then maybe we should cut it off and sell it?!' she had said with a bemused grin around her lips. We did cut it eventually. But unfortunately nobody seemed to be very interested in buying her gold.

I loved her long hair. So many nights I had dreamed about gliding my fingers slowly through it. So many candlemarks had I spent with a comb in my hands, trying to sort the mess out after a bath. Maybe we should thank Alti afterall for giving me no other choice than cutting my bard's hair. And I love her new hairstyle just as much as the other one. It sure is easier to handle. In the beginning it was abit unusual. But now she has left it to grow longer again. It is not the young girl's haircut anymore. It makes her look older, but just as beautiful. It is a sign of how much she has changed over the last few years. Her whole body is a sign to that.

As if sensing my thoughts she choses this exact moment to turn from her one side to the other. She's not facing away from me anyomre now. In the process of moving, the blanket around her slipped just a bit off her body and my eyes travel to her naked legs.

And I realise that once again the journey will begin. Or maybe I should call it a game. A game with two very willing participants and only one rule. Don't touch until you are allowed to. My heart skipps a beat at the knowledge of what is to come. We both know the game, have played it a million times. And each time it is as if it was the first time. We both set the rules. We both will win.

My eyes slowly wander downwards from her knees until they reach first her feet and then her toes. Her toes. I know them as if they were my own. And I know how sensitive they are. I remember the first time I flicked my tongue over their underside. She had burst out in a half giggling, half laughing fit and had pulled her foot out of my hands so fast it nearly knocked me over. Only with long and sensual promises could I convince her to trust me to give mer her foot back. And I payed her good for her trust. Of course on other days I had made different use of my new knowledge about ticklish spots. Many tickle fights ended with her on her back, me holding a naked foot in my hands, my fingertips paying extra attention to her toes, and her, with tears of laughter in her eyes, begging me to stop. No matter what the costs. I guess I don't have to mention what exactly I made her pay me, do I?! But one thing you can be sure of: her toes are one of my favorite spots on her body. If I was to tell you any favorite places, that is. Which is hard enough for me because her whole body is a treasure to me.

Again she seems to read my mind and as if she wanted me to slow my journey down she moves one of her legs, the tope one, just a bit forward. The blanket, as expected, moves as well and reveals her now to just the middle of her thighs.

I smirk, take a slow sip of my tea and let my eyes slowly move up her leg to where the blanket begins. She must feel my eyes as if they were lover's hands, unseen to anybody else. As if they were gliding up her legs, caressing the soft skin. She moans just the tiniest bit. I wouldn't be able to hear it if I hadn't expected it. But I did. My eyes are still fixed on her thighs. They are strong and tell about her past as well as the rest of her body. Since we started travelling together she must have walked so many miles that others would call her totally crazy. I had suggested to buy her a horse so that she wouldn't have to walk after Argo and me. But she had refused until we found her new friend in the middle of the road, only about two seasons ago. She had been too afraid of horses. But I guess, if you want to give your legs a good training, then what she did is the best thing to do. I wouldn't want to be an enemy to her or her legs. I've seen how much damage a strong kick from her can cause. Don't get me wrong! I am so proud of how good she has become in fighting. But, just as I said, I am happy to get into contact with her legs in different ways. In so much better ways. I love to let my hands wander oer her thighs, to caress her ankles or to play with my tongue on the area behind her knees. Even though they seem so strong and hard with all the muscles, they can be the warmest and softest place on earth when you lay between them and when she closes them around you.

Again she moans, this time a bit louder and deeper. I recognise it as her calling me back from my too fast wandering thoughts to the rest of the game. She rolls around again, this time onto her back, pulling the blanket up a bit with her. It reveals to me a secret we shared since the night before. She is laying very naked under the blanket. I can see the first glimbse of her soft curls teasing me from where the blanket is now. I have to swallow hard as I remember the events of the night before and what has put her into this condition in the first place. I feel a tingle deep in my stomach and take another sip from my tea to try and calm me down. But I know I don't stand a chance when I hear her groan and then she starts round two of our game. I lick my suddenly dry lips but don't take my eyes off the form in front of me.

She moves again. It is a full body move. I thought I was prepared for it but I immediately realise I was wrong when I see her throw the blanket off her in a seemingly unconcious move of her arm. I know that she is very, very aware of what she is doing. My eyes quickly fload over her whole body and then stop on her middrift when she lifts both her arms over her head and stretches. I see the muscles in her body ripple under the skin and nearly have to chocke on the sip of tea I had just taken. I look for a split second to her face, but nothing shows if she's aware of her surroundings. But I know she is. Quickly my eyes dart back to her stomach.

Oh, how much I love her stomach! When I saw her the first time in her long skirt and the high closed up blouse she was wearing, nothing, absolutely nothing had me prepared for what was laying beneath. I remember, how stunned I was the first time I saw her naked, the firt time I could lay an eye on her abdomen. Back then I had to quickly excuse myself and told her I wanted to go and brush down Argo. Since then my reaction to her body hasn't changed a bit. I still get that tingle in my own stomach, I still feel the shivers run over me. I still have this deep desire to explore every inch of her with my hands and lips and tongue. Maybe, though, my feelings have only intensified since we boh declared our love. I desire her body like nothing else. There is this deep hunger to lay a million kisses on her stomach. On every millimeter of her muscles. I love to let my tongue glide along her stomach. Followed by my hands. And I know by the reactions I get from her every time that she loves those touches just the same. It always drives me totally crazy to feel her squirm under my explorations. To know that it is me who causes her bliss. Sometimes I have this feeling that her body has changed just for me. Of course it happened beacuse of the 'line of work' we're in. But I profite of ot nevertheless. And her, of course, as well. Because her pleasure means more to me than anything else.

She isn't done with her stretching but just adds a deep groan here and a low moan there. Long forgotten is the tea in my hands. It must be cold by now anyway. Totally contraire to how I feel. There is a fire inside of me that she just put so much fuel into, that I fear this time it will consume me totally. It is burning in the deepest part of my core and fills my whole body with a strong desire. This time it is me who groans.

I want to close my eyes to be able to get the control over my body and my feelings back. But instead I feel them drawn to a place further up. Licke licking her skin they wander over her body to rest on her breasts. She has arched her backside up to stretch her back muscles. I know this position. But under different circumstances. Nevertheless it has the same effect on me. I swallow hard and again lick my lips. I feel the appetite growing. And only she can help me. With my eyes I caress her breasts, just like I would do with my hands or my lips or my tongue. Or all three of them. I love her breasts. Just like I love everything of and about her. I love their fullness. I love their softness. I love how they speak to me when she is under my touch. I love how they taste when I flick my tongue around her nipples.

I realise that she is done with her stretching now. But she keep her arms over her head. She teases me. She knows. I know. And we both can't stop it. We both love it too much. Still her eyes are closed and my eyes' journey takes them over her collarbone to her throat. Both places I adore.

I can feel her heartbeat quicken whenever I press my lips to that spot on the side of her throat. And I know that it will quicken even more when I let my tongue flick over it. She loves it when I bite her throat gently. Sometimes a bit harder. Maybe it is something that stayed with her after our Bacchae experience. Wherever it came from, I love to fulfill her wishes. And I love to leave my mark there. Before she begged me to bite harder, to leave my traces there. Another desire I fulfilled without hesitation. Over and over again. It is not like in my warlord days when I used to mark my slaves with my signs to show everybody whom they belonged to. It can't be that because I don't own her. She owns me. Totally.

A smile spreads over my face at that thought and then I continue my exploration. I let my eyes wander over her ears remembering how she reacts to little bites on them. Or how her fingers always dig into my back when I whisper into them. Mostly it doesn't matter what I say. I know it is my voice and my hot breath that makes her a victim to my cause. A willing victime.

My smile turns into a grin at that knowedge. My eyes beginto wander again and settle this time on her lips. She must be aware of where my journey took me because I hear a sigh escape her mouth. She slowly licks her lips, turning her head towards me. To give me an even better view, I guess.

It works. I feel my mouth watering at the sight. The hunger turns into thirst. A thirst to taste those lips. To let my tongue travel over them slowly. To nibble on them until she opens up to me. To dive into her finding her tongue a willing participant in a dance known only to lovers. To explore her slowly and deeply. I can't hold back the groan that forms deep inside of me. The memories of our first kiss make me shudder with their intensity.How scared I was back then. How excited just the same. And how nervous. I had dreamed of that moment for so long. Had wanted to taste her since, yeah, maybe even since the first sight. How slow it had been. How afraid and excited and nervous she must have been as well as I leaned into her, trying to push away all my fears and doubts. I remember so clearly how utterly surprised and taken I was, as I felt her for the first time. How soft her lips were and still are.What a fire work of feelings exploded inside of me when she had answered my question to open herself to me and when I sallowed her deep moan. I had given her one of my own in return.

The memories make me gasp and I feel my body moving forward to claim what it desires so much at this point. My eyes are still transfixed to her lips. The air between us seems to be filled with electricity and I am waiting for the spark to lit it.

She knows my feelings. Because it happens. Ever so slowly she opens her eyes and looks at me. She doesn't move a single muscle in her body. But even if she did, I don't think I would realise. I am stiffened into my position, captured by her eyes. I know I must be looking foolish, sitting on the tree log, my upper body leaning forward, ready to shoot up if let loose, staring at her. But I don't care. I am lost in her eyes. To me they are like green diamonds. She often says in wonder how she loves the colour of my eyes. How they are like the stars in the sky to her. I don't think she really realizes what a power her eyes have over me. They are like a window to her soul. With them she can tell me more than with a million words. They have seen so much. So much beauty, but too much evil. I can clearly recall how her eyes reflected her innocence when we met. Her whole body and behavior revealed how young and innocent she was. But her eyes were always the main indicator to me. I am so sorry for all the bad things they had to endure. That she had to endure. I wonder sometimes, now less than some seasons ago, what she would be like now if she had never met me. Would she still be the innocent, warm, loving and filled with joy about life farm girl? Would she have changed as much as she did with me? I am not saying that she is not warm, loving and filled with joy about life anymore. Not at all. I know she is. But she has grown. She sees things differently now. And with a deep pain inside myself I discovered something else in her eyes some time ago. Sadness. She has become a woman. A woman with the bitter experiences that I never ever wanted her to go through. I know I had a big part in most of them. I caused wounds deep inside of her that bled for a long time. And I know I will never forgive myself for what I did. But I know she has. She forgave me a long time ago. Because she loves me. Just the same as I love her. Totally. Like you can only love your soulmate.

I feel tears come to my eyes. They are tears of sorrow but also of joy. I know she sees them and I know how she will react to them.

A small smile forms on her lips. It tells me how deeply she loves me. And her eyes show me how deeply we are connected. Nothing will ever come between us.

I want to scream out because of the feelings inside of me. No one before has ever made me feel like this. Totally completed, totally fulfilled. No one before her and I know, there will never be someone after her. For eternity.

She blinks and then she lowers one arm and holds her hand out to me.

Her voice sound hoarse from not being used over night. But this one word says everything. I don't need a second invitation.

Putting the cold tea down I get onto my knees and crawl over to her, never breaking the eye contact we share. Like a panther ready to jump it's prey.But the roles have changed. The prey has become the hunter, the hunter the prey. Half way I take her hand and squeeze it.

I'm only wearing my shift, but I am sure not for very much longer. I slowly climb on top of her. Lowering my body on hers, allowing the desired contact. One more second of denying it and I am sure I would have exploded. She knows it. She knows how far she can go. She knows me inside out.

"Gabrielle." I whisper and realise that my voice is just as hoarse as hers. But that doesn't matter. Because, as I lower my mouth towards hers to claim her lips, I know we won't need our voices for a long time. We will communicate in other, just as effective ways. And just before our lips meet I close my eyes at last and let myself be pulled into her completely........



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