Chapter Text
Brienne felt her stomach twist as she replayed the scene in the dining hall over in her head. She liked to tell herself, or perhaps had learned to tell herself, that she was above it. Above sex, above social approval, above men’s approval, above love.
But when Tyrion had said the v-word, all her well-worn insecurities, which should have withered in the face of the total annihilation they had narrowly beaten back not a day ago, returned with a force that surprised even her.
Perhaps it was because she had finally started to feel like she fit in somewhere, and that maybe her gender – and all the ways she failed at it – didn’t matter to these men anymore. That they could see her as worthy despite...everything. But apparently it would always matter, would always get in the way, eventually.
The thought made her grateful for the two full goblets of wine she had imbibed during their little game. Along with making her feel warm and light-headed, it had also softened the sting a bit. As she stared into the fire, it occurred to her that perhaps making alcohol more of a habit would not be the worst thing for her state of mind.
A soft, but persistent knocking at the door had her immediately reconsidering. During her stay at Winterfell, she’d had more than a few drunken squires knocking on her door in the night trying to find their way back to their room...or someone else’s. It was as predictable as it was irritating.
Yet what she found waiting for her on the other side of the door was anything but predictable. Jaime, looking haggard and determined and something else she could not quite put a name to.
“You didn’t drink.”
He did not wait for her to respond before letting himself into her room. She made way for him instinctively.
“I didn’t drink?"
“In the game.”
“I drank.”
As she said this, she watched him fumble to put down two goblets and a wine pitcher on her table. Apparently, they were not done drinking.
“In the game! This is Dornish,” he said, as if he imagined she gave even the tiniest shit where the wine came from.
Brienne could not conjure a single thing she cared less about at this exact moment. Her brain was scrambling to understand the situation before her. The obvious answer seemed both undeniable and impossible.
“This is not the game. This is only drinking.”
He seemed the slightest bit annoyed as he held out one of the newly flush goblets to her and said, “Suit yourself.”
The timbre of his voice lowered to a pitch that sent shivers down her body and made an ache begin to pool in her abdomen. Against all of the odds, and all of her experience up until this moment, it was beginning to seem as if this was exactly what it looked like.
All she could do in response to that thought was take another long sip.
She refrained from saying anything else for fear she might inadvertently break whatever spell had brought him to her bedchambers with that look in his eyes. Indeed, she was not entirely certain this wasn’t some wine-induced dream destined to torture her when she awoke.
Her suspicions only magnified when he began disrobing, allegedly in response to how warm her room was. Which, to be fair, it was.
She watched him struggle to remove his jacket and let him fumble unaided, offering only what she felt was a tremendously lame reply.
“It’s the first thing I learned when I came to the North. Keep the fire going. Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.”
“That’s very diligent, very responsible,” he said in that mocking tone that had been a cornerstone of their relationship up until recently.
She felt compelled to respond in kind.
“Piss off!”
He seemed unperturbed by her tell-off as he casually meandered back towards her and said, “You know the first thing I learned in the North? I hate the fucking North.”
Brienne could not help but be amused at this declaration. It was so classic him – resentment over his own noble choices.
“It grows on you.”
As she said this, she heard her affection for him leak out in her tone.
He gave her a quick up-and-down before he declared, “I don’t want things growing on me.”
It was clear they were not talking about the North anymore, if they ever had been.
Jaime sloppily poured himself another generous serving of wine as he inquired, “What about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?”
A sarcastic look was all she could muster before he added, “He was quite sad when you left.”
“You sound quite jealous.”
Brienne heard herself say it, but it was as if she was outside her body, watching someone else do it in her stead. It felt both organic and deeply strange. How had she become a person who says things like that to a person like Jaime Lannister? Perhaps even more to the point, how had she become a person anyone was jealous over to begin with? It was patently absurd.
As was the next thing that came out of Jaime’s mouth.
“I do, don’t I?”
The man seemed genuinely surprised and at that, Brienne felt a kind of fear she had never experienced before in her life. A fear that made her heart flutter, her stomach turn over, her groin throb and ache: somebody liked her that way – and he was here to do something about it.
What was more, he was not just any somebody. He was not some sad, middle-aged toad of a man who thought she was the best he could get. He was not a man with a penchant for other men who was using her to try and cover it up. He was not some social climber who only desired the money and lands endowed to her. He was not some wildling with absolutely no social graces and no sense of proper boundaries. He was Jaime Lannister.
He was beautiful, mannered, monied, landed, with a lineage as distinguished as her own. Not that she cared much about that for its own sake. But she cared that he appeared to have no ulterior motive. There was nothing she could imagine he would hope to win from this, other than pleasure.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity in silence, save for the fire crackling behind them. Brienne’s fear of doing or saying the wrong thing magnified. The magic of this moment felt so rare and delicate, and the possibility that she could shatter it was paralyzing.
Jaime just seemed like he was trying not to be too crass, or direct. Which was precious in its way. As was his face when he repeated his earlier observation about the climate.
“It’s bloody hot in here.”
He immediately began fumbling with the laces on his shirt. But having only one functioning hand, he struggled quite a bit. Brienne watched, feeling a mixture of confusion, guilt, and mounting frustration. Finally, she had to intervene.
“Oh, move aside!” she exclaimed, taking over the task as if she was annoyed by the obligation.
In reality, she could feel her fingers trembling ever so slightly in anticipation, but her dexterity was still superior to his.
After a moment, he began trying to loosen her laces in return, and that sense that she was outside her body overtook her once more.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, even though she knew bloody well exactly what he was doing.
The question made her feel like a silly, naïve child, a perception she had been desperate to waylay here, apparently to no avail. Yet she was soothed by his equally childish answer.
“Taking your shirt off.”
Brienne honestly could not tell whether he actually thought her question had been literal, or if he was just answering in kind to be snarky. Either way, with that declaration, they had abandoned any illusion that this was not about sex, and in a way, she was relieved. There was no more risk of humiliating herself on a false assumption.
Because it wasn’t false. He wanted her, truly wanted her. It was a quietly miraculous thing.
She gently guided his hand away, and for a moment it looked as if he sincerely feared rejection. Brienne tucked that moment of fear on his face into the back of her mind. She knew she might need it one day to lift her spirits.
However, she did not leave him in suspense for long. She soon brought her hands back up to her collar and diligently began pulling at the stacked laces holding her blouse together. Slowly, she became undone for him.
He just watched, seeming awestruck. He was looking at her the way she felt about him. It was transcendent.
Brienne then pulled his shirt up over his head and he followed her lead. He may have been the more sexually experienced of the two, but her two functioning hands seemed to outweigh that. She then removed her own shirt completely.
They were both covered in bruises and looking a little worse for wear. But she could not say that lessened his attractiveness to her at all. And from the way he was looking at her, she suspected the feeling was mutual. It soothed her. And excited her.
“I’ve never slept with a knight before,” he said in an undertone just above a whisper.
“I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
“Well, then you have to drink. Those are the rules.”
“I told you –” Her frustration with his talk of the game was cut short by him grabbing her head with his one good hand and kissing her fiercely.
Brienne was caught off guard for a moment – a rarity for her in any circumstance – but she quickly recovered and gave as good as she was given.
He tasted of wine, and when his tongue rubbed aggressively against hers it made the ache in her abdomen pulse harder, harder. She had an errant thought that this should be gross; yet all it did was make her want more of it. And of him.
Soon enough she felt his one good hand grasping her right breast and she momentarily broke their kiss to let out a gasp. For a split second he looked afraid he had hurt her, but when she met his eyes and broke into a wide smile, he smiled back and continued.
Their mouths rejoined, this time with more finesse. They had long ago learned to read each other’s battle body language. Now they were learning a new dialect. Brienne trailed her hands down Jamie’s sides and let them linger for a brief moment on his hips before moving her right hand in between their bodies towards his crotch.
She felt just a bit of hesitation, but she knew bravery meant forging on in the face of fear. And compared to other things she had faced down throughout her life, this was a small hurdle. Although, not actually that small, she realized as she traced the outline of his erection in his trousers. Not small at all, in fact.
The pulsating wetness between her thighs somehow got even stronger at taking in both the size of him and his obvious desire for her. Brienne was overwhelmed with the urge to feel him inside her. However, she settled momentarily for putting her hand under his waistband and grabbing hold of his engorged cock.
It was his turn to break off their kiss and gasp. She could tell from the look on his face that this had been a good choice.
“Holy fuck,” he exclaimed, seeming taken aback by her ministrations.
Brienne watched his face as she moved her hand in different ways to find just the right grip and pace. She quickly found it and watched a strong flush rise in Jaime’s already rosy complexion as she continued stroking him.
He let it go on for a moment, but very soon, his hand grabbed her wrist and he looked her right in the eye to say, “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come in these trousers, and if it’s all the same, I’d rather come in you.”
Brienne gave him a short, open-mouthed kiss before releasing him from her grip and replying, in a low, sultry voice, “I’d rather that, too.”
His eyes widened, almost as if he was slightly afraid of what he had awakened within her. But mostly he just looked grateful, as if he was the lucky one here. Part of Brienne was sure this had to be a dream.
The main thing that suggested it was not were the tiresome clothes they still had to find their way out of with only three good hands between them; both of them resented it tremendously. Brienne decided to make quick work of her own boots, stockings, and trousers before helping Jaime. By the time she was free of all her clothing, he had managed to get his boots off on his own and was sitting on the bed to remove his stockings. She let him finish that task as she sat down next to him, completely naked against the bed covers.
The glorious, soft sensations of the fur against her bare skin added to her arousal as she waited impatiently for him to be free of everything but his trousers. Those she was going to take off herself.
The moment he started grasping at the laces, Brienne flicked his hand away and made it clear she intended to do the honors. He conceded and laid back on his elbows to watch her pick at the small line of ties that was now the only physical barrier between them. Brienne was as quick as possible under the circumstances, but in their jointly aroused state, every second felt like an hour. When she finally got the laces loose enough to release him, they both pulled the fabric down from his hips with a clawing desperation that would have been embarrassing had it not been shared.
For the first time in her life, Brienne took in the sight of a fully aroused man up close. She had long understood the mechanics of human sexual congress, and she had seen enough naked men in other circumstances to infer what an erection looked like, in theory. In reality, up close, it made her brain feel like it was melting.She just...wanted it. Wanted to stroke it with her hands, lave it with her tongue, ride it until it made her come. It was a wholly new kind of hunger, one that made her feel very alive.
“Hey.”
That one small word took her out of her reverie.
She made eye contact with her companion once again, as he inquired, “Are you sure you still want to do this?”
Apparently, her fascination with his dick had been mistaken for apprehension. She smiled at the misunderstanding and leaned in to kiss him before she replied, in an emphatic sigh, “Gods yes.”
He smiled that smile at her again, like he could not believe his luck, and then moved his hand between her legs to touch her.
At this point they were both lying on their sides, face to face across the bed. While Brienne might have felt a little less self-conscious under the covers, she knew it was too hot in her room to even attempt it. Much as Jaime’s complaints about the heat might have been a tactic, he had not been wrong. She did keep her room very warm.
They continued to lay on top of the silky fur kissing deeply while Jamie pushed through the bright blonde patch of pubic hair to the slickness underneath. When he reached it, he actually felt a bit of shock over how swollen and wet she was. While he had long known she was not truly as cold as she seemed, he was still frequently put off by her frigid exterior and posturing. She kept the lusty side of herself extremely well hidden, but it was not tempered or withered at all. If anything, it was starved for attention.
Jaime was thrilled to obliged. So thrilled, in fact, that his cock, which had already been standing at attention for quite some time, visibly twitched with anticipation when his middle finger entered her for the first time. For a split second, he worried he might come prematurely, like some inexperienced adolescent boy, touching a girl for the first time.
Jaime was loath to admit how much this felt like his first time, too. Although it obviously was not, his experience was limited to one other person, a person with whom he’d had an extremely strange and complicated relationship literally his entire life. If he was being honest with himself, this was his first ‘normal’ sexual encounter. And Brienne was about as different from Cersei as it was possible to be. While Jaime did not have first-hand experience of different women’s unique sexual tastes, he knew women were not sexually interchangeable. At least, assuming you cared about their pleasure.
And Jaime cared, almost more than he would have liked to believe.
He could tell Brienne liked kissing a lot. More than Cersei did. He was also getting the sense that Brienne was less outcome-oriented when it came to sex. She seemed to enjoy the kissing and fondling almost for their own sake. Cersei had often treated it as a perfunctory prelude to the ‘real thing.’
Although if Jaime was being honest, he was feeling more and more outcome-oriented by the second. Slowly he removed his hand from between Brienne’s legs only to have her emphatically whimper her displeasure. It was an almost animalistic sound, and Jamie was once again visited by the fear that he would come prematurely on her stomach before he ever got inside her.
However, before that happened, he needed to rid himself of one final burden.
“Could you...?” he asked, pushing his right hand towards her.
Brienne acquiesced immediately, pulling at the straps that kept his metal hand attached to the rest of his arm. Jaime glimpsed her fingers shaking ever so slightly as she detached the prosthetic, and at this sight, he felt something he could not properly put into words for all the gold in the seven kingdoms.
With the straps loosened, Brienne gingerly removed the hand and Jaime felt an instant, familiar flood of relief. Although the scar tissue there was thick, it still chaffed quite a bit, and he was always relieved to be rid of it at the end of the day. Brienne ran her fingers over his wound with gentle reverence, looking at him with those eyes that felt to him like their own form of gravity, and suddenly, Jaime heard his feelings for her ring out inside his head, clear as a bell – I love you.
And he almost said it. Almost.
Instead, he repositioned the two of them so she was lying beneath him, and he was kneeling between her legs. His intention was crystal clear, and she looked at him expectantly, inviting him to proceed.
Jaime leaned down and gave her a short, open-mouthed kiss before saying, “This could hurt a bit. Let me know if you want me to stop.”
Brienne looked annoyed at his concern.
“Will you please get on with it, and stop treating me like I’m a delicate flower? I’m a knight.”
They were back to being snarky. This, at least, was familiar terrain.
“I know you’re a knight, I was there when it happened.”
“Either get inside me, or get off me.”
Her tone was playful, but there was just enough bite to it that he knew she meant business. He went gradually at first, feeling a tiny bit of resistance. However, she was so incredibly wet and warm that his hesitation was short-lived.
The moment he fully entered her, she gasped, and he could see a tiny grimace of pain that appeared very short-lived. He stayed still for a moment while he let her adjust.
Then he asked, “You okay?”
She nodded and kissed him tenderly. Then, with that wry humor that she only brought out in her best moments, she said, “And if you don’t get on with it, I’m going to stab you with that sword you gave me.”
Jaime laughed and then did the thing he’d been dying to do since he had arrived at her room tonight. No, since they’d been laughing in the great hall earlier. No, since he had knighted her yesterday. No since she had grabbed him by the arm at that summit and said, “fuck loyalty.” No, since...
He didn’t know exactly when his grudging respect for her had morphed into admiration had morphed into sincere affection had morphed into love and lust. But somewhere along the line this tall, blue-eyed warrior with the most unflattering hair-cut imaginable managed to make him feel like a half-crazed animal in heat.
And finally, finally, he gave into it. His thrusts were fast and hard. Per her request, he did not hold back. She may have had a soft, sentimental side, but physically she was not invested in being treated as delicate.
Soon enough she began to match him thrust for thrust, and Jamie was once again in awe of just how physically strong she was. Cersei could be feisty enough in bed, but she did not have anything close to Brienne’s raw power.
Which in some ways was a problem, if only because her long, muscular legs aggressively enveloping his hips pushed Jaime closer to the edge than he wanted to be. He was determined to make her come first, and she was not making it easy for him to accomplish that with her flushed skin, swollen, pink lips, grasping hands, and wonderful, breathless exclamations.
She was so unpracticed, so real, and everything about it made Jaime feel like he was coming undone. With what little mental power he had left, he forced himself to lean on his right arm and push his left hand into the space where their bodies were joined. Using his middle finger, he found the small nub of flesh that he knew would bring her over the edge.
The second he ran his finger over it he could see that look come over her face. She was very close. Jaime lowered his head and bit softly at the skin just under her ear as he continued to stroke. Her hips bucked wildly in response to this and he had to exert a not inconsequential amount of effort to keep her from tossing him completely off her.
Maybe four or five more thrusts and her hands were erratically grasping at him while she let out something like a moan and convulsed around him. Although she was already flushed all over, Jaime could see a new wave of red sweep up her chest, as her body relaxed into the downhill slide of her climax.
A few more thrusts and Jaime simply surrendered himself fully to the feeling of being inside her. His expulsion was enormous. He could feel it was way stronger and larger than his typical release. Even after all the fluid had left him, he still had several aftershock pulses before his body finally quieted.
When it did, he rested his head sideways on her chest and he could hear her heart beat. It was still fast, but audibly slowing down. He let all the tension in his body drain away and was just still with her like that for a soft and brief eternity.