DISCLAIMER:
Xena: Warrior Princess and its characters are the copyright of MCA/Universal. This is a work of fan fiction and it is not for profit or intended to infringe on any copyright.

WARNING:
This story contains explicit descriptions of male/female sexual relations.

You can also find this story at The Joxerotica Archives.

Send feedback to Laurissa at rowan@upnaway.com

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First Impressions
by Laurissa

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Rowan sighed. Why was it that whenever she traveled alone, men always had to try to come on to her? They brought her one drink and thought that entitled them to bore her rigid with talk of their pathetic accomplishments - until she wanted to throw the damn drink in their face! Every time she was in an inn on her own, the same thing happened. And she usually ended up beating up the guys who drank too much and thought her 'I'm so bored but I'm still smiling just to be polite' expression meant he could lay his hands on her ass!

She took another swig of the strong ale she'd grown to love so much and banged the empty mug down onto the bar, then turned to the owner of the voice.

She almost gasped before she could stop herself. A tall, handsome, dark haired man stood before her, dressed in black leather pants and a dark blue silk shirt. His brown eyes twinkled with mischief and his mouth was raised at one side in a small smirk at her reaction. This was no farmer or road weary warrior - so what in Tartarus was he doing in this dump?

She cocked her head to one side and looked him straight in the eye, then held out her mug towards him. "Yeah, you can buy me a drink."

She watched him as he turned and spoke quietly to the innkeeper. He handed the old man her empty mug and gave instructions for a new one to be brought to a table for them both. He really was handsome, and so different from the men she'd been dealing with lately. Life on the road wasn't easy, and being a warrior for hire was even less fun. But a girl had to make a living when she was away from the safety of her Amazon tribe, and fighting for dinars was as good a way as any.

She'd been away from her home tribe for three months now, and knew she still wasn't ready to return. The reason for her self-enforced exile was something she was trying hard to forget with the ale she was drinking. But talking to this man might be a more palatable distraction than drinking herself into oblivion for the 100th night running.

He turned back and settled his large brown eyes on her once more, then motioned to a table by the fire. "Shall we?"

Something in his eyes made her relax her rigid guard and she smiled slightly, then walked slowly over to the table and sat down, while he took the chair opposite. She laid her sword across her lap and leaned back from him. It wouldn't do to give him any ideas that she was over-friendly. A decent conversation would be enough of a blessing right about now.

He leaned towards her and extended his hand. "Where are my manners? I'm Jett," he smiled.

His deep voice stirred something inside her and she returned his warrior's handshake. "I'm Alyta." She answered, forever on her guard.

He looked around the inn as they both settled back into their chairs. "It's unusual for a woman to be alone in a town such as this. Do you live nearby?"

"No."

He tried again. "Are you here to meet a friend."

"No."

"You're here on business?"

"No."

He snorted with laughter and smiled into her wary blue eyes. "You don't make having a conversation very easy, you know."

She laughed outright at that, then covered her smile with her hand, suddenly shy. He enjoyed the sound of her laughter and the way her smile lit up her whole face. She really was beautiful. The innkeeper arrived with their drinks and he took that as an excuse to look her over again.

He'd been sitting in a dark corner of the inn for a good while before he'd decided to approach her. She'd taken his breath away the moment she'd first walked in. She'd stood in the doorway and looked around quickly, with practiced ease. Only then did her hand finally fall to rest at her side, and not be ready to grab at the dagger she thought she had hidden in the side of her skirt. He admired a woman who was always on her guard - and a woman with concealed weapons was a definite turn on.

As he sat in the shadows, he'd watched a young warrior approach her and say something that he probably thought was smart at the time, only for him to be withered by a cold stare from those entrancing blue eyes.

She'd stood up at the bar with her back to him for some time and he was able to watch her movements and admire her body unnoticed. Her figure was magnificent, her long legs covered only by a short black suede skirt and knee-high black boots. Her ample breasts were held in by a small cropped black top, that laced up the front and she wore silver jewelry around her neck in a pendent, and around her arm in a swirl of a bracelet that reminded him of a snake. Her body was tanned, yet he surmised her skin was still smooth as silk, and not weathered at all by the sun she must delight in. He had drunk two mugs of ale dry while he watched her up at the bar, before realizing that he had no choice anymore - his physical reaction to her meant he'd have to try and talk to her.

And now, facing her, he had the perfect excuse to really look at her while they talked, without her being able to complain. Her shoulder length blonde hair shimmered in the candlelight, and her turquoise eyes were framed with long lashes that sent tiny spider-like shadows onto her cheeks when she looked down at her drink. He stole another look at the soft curve of her cleavage as she drank some of the newly delivered wine - her skin looked so soft, so sweet to touch. He'd have to be careful though; this woman was no whore to be picked up and paid off the next morning. She was unlike anything he'd seen before on his travels and he didn't want to lose this opportunity, if he could help it.

She pushed a strand of her golden hair back behind one ear and leaned forward, into his conversation at last. She rested one hand down on the table while the other played with the wine mug and he found himself looking at her long fingers and hardening at the thought of those nails scratching up his back as he....she was talking to him! He looked up quickly. "Sorry?"

"I asked what **you** were doing here, seeing as you were so enamoured of my interest in this little village."

"Oh, well, yes... I'm here on business. There's a small problem I have to attend to later for a friend."

"For a fee more like." She frowned. There was no way a man wearing those fine clothes and who had those two daggers hidden in his shirt and trousers would be here just for a friend. The town was far too rough and ready for that to be the case!

She went to take another swig of wine and looked about the inn instead. If he was going to prove to be as boring as all the other oafs she had ever encountered in bars, this was going to be a very quick drink. She had already ordered a room upstairs and she stretched her muscles in the heat of the fire that crackled behind her back. Yes, a soft bed was infinitely more preferable to being bored to tears - even if he was extremely good looking.

"Tired?" His smooth voice broke through her thoughts.

She circled her shoulders backwards, then sat back towards him, leaning both arms on the table once more. "Yes, slightly. It's been a busy day."

"Busy doing what?"

"What do you care?" She snapped. "If all you're interested in is what I'm doing here, we can finish this conversation right now! I'm not in the mood to talk about myself!" With that she stood up, only to be stopped by his hand on hers. She looked around; ready to run him through with her sword for touching her - but something in his eyes stopped her.

"Please! Don't go. I'm sorry, I won't ask you any more questions. But don't leave, not yet!" He protested quietly.

Rowan took a deep breath and sat back down - though for the life of her she didn't understand why. If it had been any other man, she would have killed him where he sat - but this man.....

Why did his voice make her feel this way? Why did his eyes draw her into his words, why hadn't she taken her hand from his firm grasp? She looked down at their hands, still entwined on the table and slowly slid hers out from under his own, then felt cold at their loss of contact.

"Thank you," he said simply. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not used to being asked so many questions. For someone like me there are no answers I can give, without signing my own death warrant. For all I know you could be a magistrate - or a bounty hunter."

"I assure you, I'm neither. In fact, I think you'll be surprised to find that you and I travel a very similar path in life. I think that's why I want to talk to you so much. I look in your eyes and see myself." He said quietly, leaning forward over the table to gently stroke her cheek.

She was amazed that she let him. It was the first tender touch from a man since.... No, she didn't want to go down that path again. Too many memories quickly surfaced and she looked down at her drink and took another large gulp. She couldn't stand to live another night tormented by the sights and sounds in her memory, that would tell her again that she was alone. That the one man she would die for was forever out of her reach.

Jett noticed the change in her and wondered what it was that held her back. He took an educated guess and sighed. Then stood up and reached down for her mug and went to the bar to get them both refills.

Now it was her turn to take in his body with her tired eyes. She sat back and forced her mind to shut out the memories clawing at her consciousness and focus on him instead. His touch had sent a shiver through her soul that she remembered as desire and something inside her had wanted more. Could it be that she was ready to take another lover? Would this be the next man that would break her heart? Watching his muscled legs through his leather pants as he leaned one foot up on the step in front of the bar she began to wonder. She didn't have to be with him for anything more than tonight. She could lose herself in his body, then leave before he awoke and had the chance to follow her. No ties - no regrets. No love. Could she just do that? Shut down her heart, so that her body could enjoy what she'd missed for so long?

She watched him run a large hand back through his short black hair and sighed, knowing the answer. No - she couldn't do that. No matter how much she liked this man - and she did *really* like this man - she wasn't about to act like a whore for him. If that was all he wanted, he could buy it later, after she had left him alone for the night.

She watched him walk back over and sit down, and gratefully took the next drink. She felt better now that her mind was decided and he started to talk to her of his travels. He didn't ask her any questions, just talked about his own adventures, and she finally began to relax. He spoke of lands far away, of wars and warriors with unusual names and fights for gods whose names she didn't recognize. His deep masculine voice told the tales with much flourish and he had her laughing, almost crying - and definitely on the edge of her seat - as she listened to his more spellbinding adventures.

As he talked, he hoped he'd finally draw her out of herself, and that she'd maybe let him get to know her slightly. But she only listened, laughed, and asked him questions about himself - and never offered up any information about her life. Gods, he wanted her so badly - if they had been in that inn alone, he would have taken her right there on the table. But she made no indication she felt the same way - even though she never took her eyes off him, and he also saw her watch his lips as he talked. Perhaps she imagined his lips kissing every part of her body like he did? He laughed inwardly at the thought - more likely he had something in his teeth!

He finished his tales with one of a battle fought for true love - of a princess in distress at being forced to marry someone her father chose, and not her lover. She listened enraptured to his story of the battles, the daughter's escape from her evil father's clutches - and his part in finally reuniting the girl with her heart's desire. Maybe this story would bring her own tale of heartbreak to the surface? He hoped it would, and that she'd finally let him in.

But when he finished, she sat back in her chair even further and only said, "That was a good story - is any of it true?"

He laughed. "Yes - every word. She married Caronius and they lived happily ever after - as far as I know."

"That's nice." She smiled sadly and drank some more wine.

"Do you wish you were her?"

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"That you could live happily ever after with whoever broke your heart?"

"No one broke my....."

"Someone did - some fool! An idiot who didn't know what he had in you!" He blurted it out before he could stop himself.

"You don't know anything about him! He is NOT a fool or an idiot!" She cried, tears springing to her eyes.

He reached over and grabbed her hand again. "He **is** a fool to let you go! I wouldn't! If I had your love nothing would keep us apart - *nothing*!"

She wrenched her hand from his and glared across the table at him. "Leave me alone! You don't know *anything* about what's happened to me!"

His anger got the better of him and he grabbed both of her arms to make sure she stayed and listened to what he had to say. "I *do* know what's happened! I know someone has hurt you so much, you can't even stand living anymore! That you'd rather drink yourself to death, than face up to the fact that whoever he was - he **left** you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it! Alyta, not all men are like that! You can't live the rest of your life shutting people out because you're scared you'll be hurt again! It's no way to live! And I should know!"

Keeping his tight grip on her arms, he turned over his hands, to show her the vivid red scars across both his wrists. She gasped and looked up into his eyes, and saw the reflected pain she felt in them. Tears fell silently onto her cheeks and he relaxed his grip and sighed. She slowly took her arm out of his grasp and gently touched the scars, softly running her fingers over the damaged skin as she took in his words.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Her few tears fell silently onto the wooden table and he suspected they were the first she'd shed over her lover's loss. She bit her lower lip and her eyes dried as she continued her investigation of his skin. She touched both his wrists now with her fingers, feeling the skin, stroking now, up and down his wrists and into the palms of his hands. The minutes seemed to slow down as she moved and he sat transfixed by her actions. She turned her hands over and stroked his forearm with the back of her hand, then swept her fingers back down into his palm again. He tried to hold one of her hands with his and she let him, their fingers entwined and clasped together, while her other hand continued it's erotic journey over his flesh.

He had almost stopped breathing by the time she looked up again into his wide eyes and his heart started to thunder in his chest when she smiled and blushed at what her hands were doing to him.

"You're right," she whispered. "I can't wait for him forever." She didn't understand what made her want to take this chance. Half of her wanted to shut out her memories in a new sensual experience - and the other half wanted to close her eyes and pretend he was back. That the love of her life had returned. Could she play that game? Would he be able to tell if she did? She knew she had him, just with the look in his eyes, and the way his mouth fell slightly open at her continuing caress of his skin.

"N..No." He almost stammered, then took a deep breath to control himself. "No - you can't wait forever."

He reached out with his free hand and cupped it behind her head, then pulled her towards him. Their lips met and they both leaned over the small table to each other. It was a gentle kiss at first - she was still unsure that this was what she wanted. His lips felt different, not as full, wider, less insistent - well, she could soon change that. She opened her lips and he immediately did the same. Their tongues clashed together and began to passionately dance as their kiss intensified.

As her body reacted to his mouth searing hers, Rowan reached forward and tried to sink her fingers into his hair. But something was wrong. This wasn't *his* hair. He had long, thick hair - hair you could lose your fingers in - hair you could grab hold of and pull him up to your mouth with as you made love. This hair was short - too short.... this *wasn't* him!

She pulled away suddenly and sat back, wiping her mouth, looking at him with wide eyes. He almost fell forward on the table, he'd been pressing into her mouth so forcibly, but he caught himself and stared at her in astonishment. "What?" He panted. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry! I can't do this! I don't want *you* - I want someone else!" She cried. "It's not fair on you!"

He sat back down in his seat, frowning, intense desire for her still coursing through his body. "Whoever said life was fair?" He sneered.

Her bottom lip trembled slightly, but she couldn't relent, she couldn't just use him like that. She stood up and picked up her sword. He sat back with his arms folded, and looked up angrily at her.

"I'm sorry - that's all I can say," she said quietly. "Thank you for the drinks. I hope you find what you're looking for." And she turned to walk over to the bar.

He watched her talk to the innkeeper and collect a key, then walk through the inn and up the back stairs. Couldn't she feel his eyes burning into her? Couldn't she feel how much he wanted her?

At the top of the stairs she turned and walked down the long corridor to her room. The inn was unusually larger than most, for such a small village, but she didn't think on it for long, she just looked for her room number. As she walked, she heard the sounds of another couple making love coming from one of the rooms. She stopped at the noise and stood for a few seconds to listen to their enraptured gasps, before shaking her head and moving on. Gods - why had she done that? Why had she stopped herself kissing him? He was right - she *couldn't* live this way forever - she'd rather *die* than think she'd never feel passion again!

As she got to her door, the few candles that lit that end of the corridor blew out with a small gust of wind from the open window. Rowan tutted and closed the window, before struggling to find the lock in the dark with her fingers. All she wanted was to hide in her room and try and stop this overwhelming urge to run back downstairs and drag Jett up here to bed with her.

She finally found the lock and turned the key, then tried to open the door. It stuck half way and she had to put her full weight to the wood to finally shove it fully open. With that movement, she suddenly felt two strong arms around her waist and a man shoved her into the room and pushed her up against the wall. Before she could reach for any weapons, he had her hands pinned up against the wood and his whole body was pressed against hers. She tried to scream, but one hand clamped over her mouth, while the other held both her wrists together above her head. His lips began to kiss her neck and she finally realized who it was and moaned into the palm of his hand, her heart still beating furiously. He took his hand off of her mouth and turned her head to him and kissed her full on the lips. She returned the kiss hungrily as his hands let go of her wrists and started to move all over her body - lighting every nerve ending in her as he stroked her skin. She pulled slightly away from him - a question in her eyes. "Jett? I..."

He quickly turned her from him again, facing her back against the wall, and kept up his exploration of her skin with his hands, as his hot breath fanned her ear. "Don't talk. This isn't me - I'm whoever you want me to be. Don't look at me - keep your eyes closed - call out his name - I don't care! I'll be anybody you want me to be tonight - just don't tell me to go!" His lips covered her neck again and she closed her eyes and surrendered to the exquisite feelings his lips shot through her body. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes as he kissed and nipped at the back of her neck and across her shoulder, then pushed her top down her arms to get at her bare skin.

One of her hands fell back off the wall and laced in his hair, too aroused by his hands constantly sweeping over her body to care that it wasn't long. Too swept away by the passion his caresses created inside her, to worry that she was alone in a room, with a man she had only just met and one of his hands was between her legs. She moved into that specific caress and groaned aloud. Gods, he really knew what he was doing! Her legs grew weak and her other hand scrambled along the wall to grab and hold onto a shelf there, to keep her upright as the delightful torture continued.

Both his hands were on her breasts now, and he continually stroked her, until she thought she might explode right there, before he even got her undressed. With his strong hands now wrestling with the laces on her top, and his lips still branding a path along her neck and shoulders, she knew she'd never tell him to go. She suddenly felt cold when he finally opened her top and roughly pulled it off her body. With his arms wrapped around her he moved around her body, until he was bending down in front of her. She laced her arms around his neck and in his hair and hung on for dear life when he started to gently lick her nipples. One after the other, his hot mouth gently covered and suckled at her breasts, then he'd pull back and blow coolly, or breathe hotly onto her wet flesh, making her shiver with delight at the new sensations. His arms were up around her back, keeping up their constant stroking of her skin until every fibre of her being began to sing and she was totally oblivious to anything but his body touching hers.

"What's your real name?"

His question shocked her, but she was too far gone to protest - much. "My....my name?"

"It's not Alyta - pretty though that is." He to kissed the soft skin of her breasts as he talked. "So what's your real name? I want to know what to call out when I come inside you."

"It's... it's Rowan!" She gasped.

They were both panting with desire now, and she moaned in ecstasy when he finally latched onto one of her lush breasts and took it fully into his mouth. His firm lips suckled at her breast and his tongue lapped at the nipple inside his mouth, and he too began to moan. He felt her knees buckle, but his strong arms around her kept her upright. He moved from her breasts, back up to her mouth and stood before her again, crushing her half-naked body to him in the moonlight as they kissed voraciously.

Just when she thought he was about to pick her up and carry her to the bed, he circled her again and dropped to his knees behind her. She leant against the wall again and wondered what delights he had in store for her next - and if she could keep sane while his hands trailed fire over her skin like that. He stroked up and down her legs, pressing his fingers into her through her undergarments whenever he reached the top of her thighs. Before she realized what was happening, he'd taken off her boots and thrown them behind him, then he roughly pulled her skirt up over her hips and she gasped when she realized he would have revealed her hidden dagger. He must have discovered it in the moments before, when his hands were stroking her thighs, and she hadn't even thought about it!

She looked down at his face, staring up at her. They were both panting hard now, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears, because she knew that he could kill her right then and there. His hand was already on the dagger's hilt - it would only take one upward movement and she would be dead on the floor. What if he *was* an assassin? Sent by a relative of someone she had been paid to kill, to mete out his own brand of justice?

He saw the panic in her eyes and she watched the fire burn in his. He let go of the dagger and grabbed her thigh instead - then pushed her legs apart with his other hand. She gasped and for an instant felt real fear, then his head went to the small belt that held the knife to her leg and he began to kiss and lick all around her thigh. Above and below the thin belt, his lips teased, sucked and nipped a trail of passion on her skin, ending as he reached out with his tongue and licked all the way up to her undergarments. He looked up again at her and grabbed the knife, then threw it quickly across the room, where it landed with a dull thud in the wooden wall.

With a movement just as fast he stood up behind her again and shoved her back into the wall. She could feel him quickly undo and throw away his shirt and then his bare chest pressed against her naked back and his arms snaked back around her body. One of his hands grabbed at her breasts, while the other slid down her stomach and went beneath her undergarments. His strong fingers moved firmly against her and then slid inside her. One finger, two fingers, both pushing up inside her then sliding out again, then pushing, then....

She was vaguely aware that his other hand had left her breasts and he was now undoing his leather pants, but she was too lost within her own body to care. She felt his breath on her neck and in her ear again.

"Do you still want him?"

"I...."

"Do you?"

"I don't know..."

"DO YOU!" He barked, making her jump slightly then shiver and moan as his fingers continued their exquisite journey inside her.

"No."

"What did you say?" He ripped off her undergarments and threw them behind him as well.

"No..." She gasped.

"No what?"

"I don't want him!" She cried.

She felt his large manhood push between her thighs and pulse against the wet heat his touch had created.

"Who do you want?" He asked, sliding himself almost into her, then pulling away again. She moaned and with one hand reached behind her and pressed him to her again. "You." She answered.

"Who am I to you - right now - who am I?"

She turned her head to look straight into his eyes. "You, Jett - I want *you*! Right here - right now!" She gasped.

In answer he plunged straight into her, slamming her against the wall. They both cried out with the pure pleasure and he began to thrust quickly and deeply inside her. She pushed back against him with equal force, leaning with one hand on the wall for support. With the other she reached behind him and grabbed his ass, keeping him tight against and in her with every thrust. They were making much more noise then the couple down the hall but neither of them cared. He had never been so aroused, and she had never wanted anybody more.

Neither of them could last much longer. Her head fell back on his shoulder and his muscled arms held her tight as she cried out. Her body clamped down on his inside her and she shuddered in his arms, as the intense orgasm rocked her. With one final thrust he joined her, biting down on her neck with a growl, as he pumped his seed into her.

Gasping and panting, the aftershocks pulsing through them both, they sank down to the floor. He slid out of her body and sat back against the wall, while she tried to catch her breath and stared at him with sated eyes. He wiped his mouth and tried to calm his heart, then saw the trickle of blood running down onto her shoulder. He reached out and pulled her into his arms and cradled her body. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He whispered, still breathing heavily.

She looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. "You didn't hurt me. You set me free. Whenever I look at that scar I'll think of you and remember this night."

He stared down at her and softly stroked her cheek. "This night's not over yet."

He reached down and picked her up in his arms. They kissed again as he carried her to the bed and gently laid her down, then covered her body with his. He broke their kiss and looked down at her. "If I have my way - this night will never be over."

She smiled back at him in answer; then he bent his head to start another journey of kisses over her skin and down her body. Sighing with pleasure, she surrendered to his touch and wished for exactly the same thing, with all her heart.

The End