Disclaimer: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle belong exclusively to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended through the writing of this piece. Clichés on the other hand belong to the Xenaverse and those bards who choose to employ them.

Love Sex Warning/Disclaimer: How do they put? This is a work of subtext Plenty of talk no action. In other words, this is not Willowluvyr’s usual fan fiction. Yeah right, and it’s archaeobard’s usual??

Archaeobard’s Notes: I have to apologise, I am responsible for the clichés in this story <g>, but it was fun. According to Willowluvyr, I am good at this stuff, uh-huh, whatever you say. I did not do the clichés, I’ve come to understand the wicked web fan fic authors weave and have attempted to emulate it. I am eternally archaeobard@hotmail.com

Willowluvyr’s Notes: Most of this story is my fault. It is my first attempt at a humorous story. Please don’t blame Bard, who is so good at this stuff, for the bad jokes and puns. You can blame her for the attempt, however, she says I need to lighten up some, so this is my attempt to do so. Oh and the cliches, she did those. Oh and anything you don’t like, she’s probably responsible. All gripes, bitches and complaints will be dealt with in a timely manner by Fini, the head of my Complaints Department: willowluvyr@yahoo.com

Acknowledgments: Our thanks must go to Kamouraskan for giving this the once over, and only poking horrendous amounts of fun at our grammar. At least we didn’t write about a rat.



Passion Ploy


Archaeobard and Willowluvyr


I was startled out of a restful sleep when an elbow jabbed me in the ribs. A mass of blonde hair muttered, "Xena! You’re snoring again. Turn on your side."

I knew that this was just an excuse for not having to apologize for elbowing me in the ribs again. My young Bard just couldn’t stay on her side of the bed. So, as usual I denied it by saying, "I don’t snore, Gabrielle. In the woods, it’d be deadly."

"Xena, we’re not in the woods. We’re in an Inn. Whenever you sleep in a bed you snore."

"I do not."

"Oh yes you do." the Bard began, jabbing a finger into my shoulder, "One of these days I am going to get a scribe in here to chronicle your snoring."

"Maybe he’d end up chronicling a lot more."

She playfully responded with a smile, "I do that already. Now, go back to sleep and rollover."

I was angry. So I got up and dressed and slipped out the door. I knew I didn’t snore. She was just trying to get off from elbowing me. I decided a run was in order so I set a good pace down the road.

When I returned, I found a bag of scrolls lying in the trash behind the inn. They had Gabrielle’s seal. I figured that Gabrielle must have lost a couple of her scrolls, so I retrieved them and brought them to our room.


Gabrielle was sleeping. So, I decided it was time to read some of my lover’s scrolls. I sat comfortably in a chair and started reading.

The moon was a sliver of silver against the gushing flow of the waterfall. They had found the spot, safe and undetectable. The warrior and the Bard would rest for the night.

Something was different about the warrior that night. Something burned desirously in her eyes as she stared at the Bard, the soft light of the moon caressing the younger woman’s features. The Bard returned the stare, her gaze of clear green never faltering. They stayed that way for several moments, absorbing the presence of each other. The emerald stained eyes of the Bard looking longingly into cerulean blue pools. They each saw their soul. As the two soon to be lover’s lips entwined with fervent passion never before known, the Bard groaned wantonly into the taller woman’s mouth.

The Bard’s hands were alive with a lustful fire as they danced enticingly across the warrior’s bronzed flesh, seeking, searching for treasures hidden from view. The warrior could not help but shudder violently at the silky seducing fingers intent on discovery.

Slowly, the Bard ran her hands over Xena’s ample mounds of flesh to chocolate peaks, thumbing them to a taut attention. The warrior let out a shuddering moan as she felt the Bard lean in to nip lightly at a nipple. Absently, the Bard wondered if that was where the term had come from, because nipples were so good to nip.

The warrior could feel the essence of her love slippery, sliding down her inner thigh, and knew that the Bard must enter her moist cavern soon, or it would kill her.

However, always one to rise to a challenge, the warrior moved herself lower against her love, as they lay entwined on the damp floor of the cave. Xena cupped her Bard’s love mound and searched enticingly for the smaller woman’s sensitive bundle of nerves. A lightening jolt of electricity thrummed through the Bard as Xena teased her swollen nub lightly.

With lust overwhelming her in the extreme, the Bard retched out her arousal as she neared the brink of precipitous ecstasy. Striving for greater heights for herself and her lover, the Bard fondled absently between softly moist folds of flesh, teasing around where Xena needed her most. As Xena’s guttural cries reached desperately frustrated proportions, the Bard thrust three fingers into the warrior’s sodden tunnel. Xena screamed mercilessly as the bard smoothly pumped her, reveling in the soft, lust heated flesh, the cries of her own desire filling her ears.

Thrusting and bucking away against the warrior, the Bard lost all sense of time and space as her body took on a mind of its own. The warrior was grunting and writhing with equal passion as the two climbed the final peak into oblivion. Their eyes locked and exploded with intensity as their loins regurgitated their desire a thousand fold.

I had to suppress several giggles. It was very difficult. I was struck with the realization, that though Gabrielle was a gifted storyteller, she sucked as a writer. ‘What was I going to tell her when she asked me how I liked her stories?’ I thought.

I could never lie to my Bard. First, I wasn’t good at it, she would bust me in a second. Additionally, I don’t like lying to her. It made me ill. Then it came to me I would stay noncommittal.

I rolled up the scrolls in time to see my Bard watching me intently. I had picked up my sword and started working its edge. It didn’t need it, but I had to appear busy. She smiled and said, "Well, I see you finally got around to reading some of my scrolls."

I played it safe and grunted.

"Well, those are rough I just started them this morning, but you know how it is, rewrites and all."

I worked my sword edge thoughtfully and grunted again for good effect.

"I really think I captured the moments. There was a time when I thought I couldn’t write, but then I decided that I was trying to be too dramatic and creative. So I simplified my writing. And I think you will agree that it is to good effect."

I could tell she was waiting for a response, so I grunted heartily this time.

"I’m glad you enjoyed them I could hardly wait for you to read them. I was anxious. I thought you might think they were too personal. Sometimes, I know you think I’m invading your space, but I think it’s important from an historical perspective to put the events of your life into some sort of chronological order because Gods know how it could be abused in the future." she said, throwing her arms in the air, then she became serious, "Don’t you?" she asked with a squint.

I knew I needed to grunt again. So, I did, while still filing my sword’s edge. It was looking pretty good. It was probably the best edge I ever put on it. Then I realized that Gabrielle had stopped talking. Figuring another grunt was called for, I did. Then I heard, "You haven’t been listening to a word I said have you?"

Thinking fast I said, "Honest, Baby, I was listening to every word until that last part. I got a sword shaving in my eye and that distracted me."

I could feel those green eyes staring through me, examining my words and searching for the truth. Finally, she said, "Well, you better be more careful. Those shavings could put your eye out. I asked you where are we going to eat lunch? I’m hungry."

I released my breath that I didn’t know I was holding and replied, "How about we go find some nutbread?"

Suddenly, I knew I had gone too far. Suspicion entered her eyes, as she re-examined me. But her stomach growled and I was saved. With my lover, hunger overcomes all other emotions. Hunger and the promise of nutbread had saved me.


When we returned, Gabrielle picked up the scrolls I had been reading and made a face and asked, "Xena, what did you do to my scrolls? They stink."

Proud that I had recovered her lost property I responded, "Oh, I didn’t do anything to them. I found those in the trash back of the inn. I know you wouldn’t want to lose any of your scrolls so I brought them back to the room."

She waved the scrolls at me and asked sarcastically, "And you liked these?"

I shook my head and grunted my best grunt and she bought it. She shrugged her shoulders and packed away the odorous scrolls. Then she went to the chamber room for a bath. She had a performance tonight in the common room and she probably wanted to look her best.


‘I can’t believe she picked those things out of the garbage! The Gods damned garbage! Surely you’d think that I wanted to throw the things away if they were in the garbage? Well, any normal person would, but then, Xena Garbage Thief is not exactly normal.’

The Bard sighed in exasperation as she paced, alone in their room, she had no idea where Xena was, she was off…somewhere. The warrior actually thought those scrolls were good? Where in Tartarus was her sense of taste, of class? Well, she obviously didn’t have one, she was a warrior after all, and everyone knows what they think about all the time. This thought made the small woman grin, yeah, all the time.

Gabrielle shook her head to dispel wayward thoughts, and concentrated on a plan.

"Well," she mused aloud placing her hands on her hips with determination, "if she thinks these early scrolls are good, I’m just going to have to prove to her that they are a pile of centaur dung. No body would want to read them in two thousand years time, let alone now. To top it off, the darn things were embarrassing, but if that’s what it took to raise the warrior’s mind out of a cess pit, well, the Bard smiled broadly, she’d read the smelly scroll at her performance that evening. Then the warrior would see some blank stares. If that didn’t work, the lack of dinars would certainly convince her that her early work really was a case of trash.


I sat in my usual seat in the back corner, where I could everyone who came in and still watch my Bard perform. She had been unusually quiet all through dinner. She would look at me and shake her head with disapproval. I wondered what I had done this time.

Gabrielle had been a big hit. The tavern owner had begged her to stay over for another week free of charge, meals included. She was a good draw and they had something called a convention in town. They had some kind of club called the Gorgons. They were a fun group. They wore these odd hats with snakes and they were stoned a lot. My only problem was keeping them off the stage. The tavern owner had hired me as the bouncer.

My job was to look tough and say ‘off the stage or hands off the Bard’. I would have done it for free, but he paid me three dinars a night. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Like I said, Gabrielle seemed a little distracted tonight. But then it was show time and I knew that would cheer her up. My Bard, she made me so proud, walked confidently to the stage and said, "Good evening, tonight, I will perform a tale that is my best friend’s personal favorite."

Then to my chagrin she started recited that piece of garbage I read this morning. I knew this was going to cause a riot. So I quietly got up and moved slowly along the wall to get between my Bard and the soon to be angry crowd. As the story proceeded I winced at several lines, but the crowd laughed. Soon there were regales of laughter all over the room. I didn’t get it.

Finally, when Gabrielle finished the crowd jumped to their feet clapping loudly and raining dinars upon her. It took us several minutes to collect the coins. There were over three hundred dinars in the pouch when we finished collecting them. It was over thrice her regular take. She looked at me and smiled, "You were right Xena, the lowest common denominator."

The End

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