Chapter Text
The idea takes root the first time Brienne watches Addam take Jaime into his mouth. There’s a familiarity in their shared movements that makes Brienne ache for that sort of history. She and Jaime have a history, of course, but not one that bears the same fruit of tender heat and comfort with any manner of intimacy.
Addam bears Jaime onto his back, settling between Jaime’s thighs and smirking wickedly as his mouth closes around the head of Jaime’s cock. Jaime sighs happily, winds his fingers through Addam’s hair and lets his head fall back, throat bared, body splayed and vulnerable to anything that comes at him.
It’s fascinating watching the two of them together.
They both know how to take one another apart as skillfully as they both wield a blade; in Jaime’s case, as skillfully as before he lost his hand. They seem to take a fiendish joy in dragging the other close to the precipice before doing something, or ceasing to do something, that lets them fall away again.
“Seven hells, Addam,” Jaime groans, every muscle in his body clenching as he yanks at Addam’s hair. “Stop torturing me.”
Addam’s eyes meet Brienne’s where she sits just beyond Jaime’s head. He holds her gaze as he pulls away just long enough to wet his own finger in his mouth (for Jaime to growl dangerously) before taking Jaime as far into his mouth as possible. Brienne can’t see exactly what Addam does next, but she can surmise well enough from the movements and from the way Jaime’s entire torso lifts from the bedroll with a soul-shaking cry of pleasure.
Addam lets Jaime spill in his mouth, swallowing Jaime’s spend before gentling Jaime through his climax with soft kisses on his belly and thighs as he shakes through the release.
--
She finally works up the nerve to ask Addam about it when Jaime has wandered off, either to bathe or take care of other bodily needs.
“Do men find it--” she wavers, unsure how to phrase it, and blushes when Addam lifts an already-amused eyebrow. “When you were pleasuring Jaime, you used your fingers as well, didn’t you?”
“Aye,” he says, clearly trying to suppress a smile.
“And men enjoy that?”
“Didn’t it appear as if Jaime enjoyed it?”
Brienne swallows. “It’s only that,” she tries to explain, tries not to squirm, “in the camps, when men were...there were times when…”
Addam takes mercy on her, and she thinks all seven gods that one of the men in her life has a kind soul on occasion.
“It can be very pleasant or very unpleasant,” Addam says calmly. “If the man doesn’t want that sort of pleasure, it can hurt, the same as it does for a woman that doesn’t want to be taken. In the same respect, if the man isn’t prepared properly, it will hurt even if he does wish it.”
Her cheeks burn as she asks, “Do you or Jaime ever use your--your cocks?”
“Yes,” Addam says plainly.
“And you enjoy it?”
“We’d hardly allow it if we didn’t.” Addam smiles, a conspiratorial sort of grin. “There are plenty of other things we enjoy well enough without resorting to demanding things that don’t bring everyone enjoyment.”
She stares at him for a long moment before whispering, “Will you show me?” She can feel her heartbeat in her tongue, it seems. “I would like to learn how to do it properly.”
--
Jaime comes back to find her and Addam with their heads tucked together. There’s no trace of jealousy, a fact that still startles her at first. Instead, there’s that familiar amusement and heat and care etched into every line of his face. She and Addam rise to greet him. Jaime wastes no time in drawing her to him and kissing her heavily.
Addam is at the back of her, cock already half-hard against her arse, arms around her so that he can touch Jaime’s flank as Jaime tastes the inside of her mouth.
Jaime’s hand works at the laces of her breeches while she undoes his. He growls when she wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him until he mindlessly thrusts into her grip.
Addam slides one of his hands beneath her smallclothes, pressing his fingers into her wet heat, circling over that spot that makes her whole body tighten and her brain feels like it’s been set alight.
“Tell him what you want,” Addam whispers against the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
“I don’t know how to--”
“What would you say if he were doing it to you?”
Her hand stills on Jaime’s cock and he lifts his head from her shoulder to stare at her, hazy-eyed and curious.
“I want to--to fuck you,” Brienne murmurs.
Jaime’s eyes widen and Addam lets out an amused puff of air. Whether it’s with her stuttered declaration or Jaime’s reaction, she doesn’t know and doesn’t really care. It’s as if Jaime is looking for an answer on her face, whatever the question, he must find it because he kisses her searingly and says, “Yes, yes,” against her lips.
It’s familiar enough by now to strip off and find their ways onto a pile of bedrolls together. Their limbs slot together with ease now, no longer a motley tangle of sharp elbows and knocking knees.
Somehow, Addam maneuvers them all so that he’s cradling her from behind while they both kneel between Jaime’s splayed legs, his hips resting on a rolled and folded cloak. Jaime’s cock is flushed and hard, lying against his belly; Addam’s is pressed against the small of Brienne’s back, his fingers still caressing Brienne between her own legs. Addam takes Brienne’s hand with the one not stroking her and guides her massage Jaime’s thigh gently, murmuring in her ear about the benefits of patience.
Jaime writhes beneath their hands and when Addam finally asks, “Are you ready?”
Jaime grits his teeth and almost angrily says, “Fuck, yes.”
Addam shifts away far enough to grab the small wineskin of oil. He wets his own fingers with it and then hers. When he begins to guide her hand to touch Jaime, she hesitates. “Don’t you want to show me first?”
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he says, still guiding her hand forward. “You don’t learn how to shoot an arrow or handle a sword by watching. This is no different.” Then, as if amusing himself, he snorts and says, “But with a good deal less blood involved, one hopes.”
“Addam,” Jaime groans, not in pleasure, in aggravation.
Addam laughs near noiselessly, his chest rumbling against Brienne’s back. Addam finally brings their fingers together to press against Jaime’s ass. He tenses reflexively, and Brienne thinks to draw her hand back, but Addam steadies her, neither pushing harder or pulling away.
“Stroke his cock,” Addam murmurs.
It only takes a couple of strokes of her hand before she can feel him relax against her fingers. Addam manipulates her hand until he can push just one of her fingertips into Jaime. He groans, not quite a sound of pleasure, nor of pain, but he shifts toward her and not away.
Jaime is hot and achingly, suffocatingly tight around her.
“In and out, gently,” Addam continues to instruct her quietly. “Remember how softly we treated you at first. Treat Jaime just as kindly.”
It happens in fits and starts. Gradually, Jaime relaxes to the intrusion of her finger, his moans flowing from uncertainty into the kind of pure pleasure that seems to be directly connected to her cunt. After an age, Jaime writhes against her and grits out, “More.”
Brienne doesn’t need Addam’s direction this time, she adds another finger. Still, Addam tells her how to curl her fingers just so, and how to feel for that spot that will--
And then Jaime’s entire chest lifts off the blanket, a sound tearing from his chest that startles Brienne for a moment before she recognizes it as that incandescent pleasure right before climax. Jaime is all but incoherent, shifting down onto her fingers and trying to thrust into her grip all at once. Brienne has almost no mind for Addam behind her, his hands gripping her hips, his hard cock still nestled snug against her lower back, seemingly content for now to observe and guide the two of them.
When Jaime comes soon after, spilling over her hand and his own stomach, he tightens around her fingers still inside of him with the sort of strangling force that makes her, for the first time, vaguely regretful she’ll never know what it feels like to have that sort of pressure around a cock. He whimpers at the loss of her when she pulls her hand away.
Addam draws Brienne with him so that they’re no longer resting their weight on their heels. Jaime’s blissed-out expression sharpens when Addam moves his fingers to her opening and then to her clit and back again until her body tightens with a sort of tension that feels like it might shatter her.
“May I?” Addam asks, voice husky and rasping and a tinge desperate. Jaime’s eyes cut to hers, and for a moment she doesn’t know who he’s asking, or if it’s both of them, and either way the answer is always yes.
Addam enters her, the length of his cock a welcome, filling pressure. It’s far from the first time, and yet, it’s always somehow consuming and raw and fresh. She reaches behind herself to wrap a hand around the back of his head. Jaime takes her other hand, holding it tightly. She opens her eyes to watch Jaime’s face as Addam moves within her, her own hips rolling to meet his.
She hopes she never gets used to the level of warmth and love she feels wrapped in. It always seems far away when they step outside the tent, as if the Brienne that smells of sex and sweat, tender and sore in intimate places only the two men with her know of, is an entirely different person. But then she’s held by them, tangled up in every way people can be, and it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.
Brienne’s climax is a rolling wave, pulling her under and filling her with that lovely certainty of where she belongs. Addam pulls away to come against the skin of her hip and thigh before tugging her to lie down, sandwiched between him and Jaime.
She knows one of them should move for the bucket of water and a spare muslin, but she can’t seem to convince her limbs to move, and neither of the men seems to have a mind to do so themselves, so she lets the security of their bodies and her own exhaustion to carry her to sleep.