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“Who is she?” The huge blue eyes staring at him feel like the ocean on a summer day, sapphires sparkling and keeping him entranced into its depths.
“Oh, a friend from college. Brienne Tarth.”
Tarth. The sapphire island.
Appropriate.
“Her eyes are…” he searches for something to describe it. Can’t find a word. “Astonishing” it’s the closest he can get.
“They are” Jaime is vaguely aware of Tyrion standing next to him. “The photograph doesn’t make it justice.”
“I don’t believe you” his brother had a gift, and even though Lannisters are not known for modesty, everyone has a moment of humility at some point. Even Tyrion.
“You will if you ever see her in person” he makes a noise with his tongue, points to what’s written at the tag beneath the photograph. Jaime drags his eyes from the picture to where his brother’s hand rest on the white wall.
In The Eye of The Beholder
“Is it?” He asks
“Is it what?”
“In your eye?”
Cersei calls him one night. Robert is out of town.
He drops by.
They fuck.
He doesn’t feel like he used to. They haven’t been the same for a long time, and the loss of his hand shined a spotlight to what was already there, crawling it’s way slowly from the cracks of their relationship.
This lacking.
Does she see it? He wonders while he picks up his clothes from the floor. Does she notice I don’t ask her to stay anymore?
Does she care? Do I?
He can’t get those blue eyes out of his mind. It’s there, imprinted on his eyelids whenever he closes them, and even when he doesn’t.
He texts Tyrion then.
Can I see the other photographs that weren’t part of the exhibition?
Tyrion sends him a file named B.Tarth
I didn’t say I wanted hers.
I know. Just saved you the inconvenience of going through the ones that weren’t.
He’s too smart for his own good, but Jaime won’t complain this time.
There are miles and miles of pale freckled skin, and her eyes draw him in even when in B&W.
But it’s the last picture, the one where she’s smiling, crooked teeth and nose scrunching in a way that makes his chest tighten, that’s the one that does it for him.
He texts Tyrion once more
I wanna meet her
Come to my house tonight. She’s coming for dinner.
Tyrion wasn’t lying after all. Or being humble.
The photographs didn’t make it justice.
Brienne is everything at once: too tall, too broad, too shy. Hard edges and hard muscles and legs that go on for miles. Her eyes are the bluest he has ever seen, and when she looks at him he can’t control the way he stares at her.
Brienne is too stubborn, and they don’t agree on most of the things they talk about. She blushes easily enough that it’s impossible not to take it as a challenge, to make it happen as much as he can.
She gets on his nerves, and she calms him down and there’s an affection that takes hold of his heart whenever he thinks about her or sees her that he doesn’t know how to explain.
And then she brushes against him accidentally while walking side by side on the streets, or touches his hand through the table when they are eating together at his place, or shows up to go out to a movie wearing the tightest jeans he has ever seen, and he wants to fuck her senseless until she doesn’t remember anything else but his name.
Cersei calls him one night.
He looks at Brienne washing the dishes, Tyrion sitting by her table and laughing at something she says.
Jaime doesn’t answer the call.
“Brienne”
“Hm?” She’s wearing the blue t shirt that brings out her eyes, and her shorts are too damn short and he has had enough. Her eyes are glued to the tv, his room too dark, the couch too small. He wants to see her. All of her.
“Can you look at me when I’m talking to you?”
She rolls her eyes and does what he asks. He smiles.
“What is it?”
“I have a problem”
“What is it Jaime? What happened?” She turns her whole body into his direction. You’re too good Brienne. Too good.
He doesn’t know what to tell her. Was never good with flirting. Never needed to. It has always been Cersei, but now it’s Brienne and how is he going to act on that?
He puts his beer on the floor beside the couch.
And then he kisses her.
She startles.
“Jaime..” she sounds out of breath.
“I need to know how you feel like. How you taste. So I can stop imagining and can get you out of my system wench.”
“And this will help?”
“It won’t hurt”
“I…”
“If you don’t want it, I’ll stop. I promise, I will. But if you do… Brienne, if you do-“
“I- I want to” and she’s blushing so hard he can’t help himself, he drags her body forward, until she’s sitting on his lap, and kisses her until he feels out of breath too.
He bites her bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth. Tastes her tongue with his. Bites the place where her shoulder meets her neck, freckled skin meeting freckled skin, and he licks and kisses each one he can reach.
Sucks on her breast, feels her nipple hard on his tongue, and doesn’t stop until she’s panting and buckling her hips and calling his name.
Tastes her cunt until she’s so wet his fingers slide inside easily, and when she clenches on them, moaning so loud that someone probably heard her down the hallway of his floor, he knows there’s no coming back from that.
There’s no coming back from her.
His cock is painfully hard by the time he gets to hover above her, and she’s pleading with him to take her, that she wants to feel him, please Jaime and he can’t deny her, he can’t and he doesn’t want to.
“Jaime...ah” she breaths against his ear when he’s fully inside of her and fuck, fuck, nothing ever felt like this. Nothing ever felt this good.
“Fuck. Gods...Brienne” she’s trailing her fingers up and down his back, squeezing and he thrusts hard, harder than he planned to, but she gives him that breathy little moan she made when he had his mouth sucking on her clit and his head spins, because there’s no better sound than that. She keeps touching him while he moves, thrusting hard again, and again, and again, and she keeps touching him everywhere and he doesn’t remember when someone touched him like this, hands burying in his hair, mouth kissing his jaw and cheek and it’s like she can’t stop. Like she can’t get enough.
He can’t get enough.
“Yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop ...Brienne... Touch me. Feel me. Fuck. I love you. I love you” he sucks on the skin of her neck, tastes the sweat of her there, leaves a bruise and she whimpers and scratches her nails against his shoulders.
“Jaime… Jaime ... please” but then she turns her head to where his right arm is resting beside her head and kisses his stump.
He’s done for.
He comes so hard he thinks he blacks out for a moment.
When he comes back, he’s laying on top of her, panting against the skin of her neck and she has her arms wrapped around him, her hand massaging his scalp, lips resting against his temple.
He supports himself on his elbows, kisses her chin and her neck and keeps kissing down until he’s kissing her cunt again, her legs resting on his shoulder.
This time around he doesn’t use his fingers. Licks and sucks on her until she comes again, his name tumbling down from her lips as a prayer to the Seven. When she stops moving her hips, he bites the inside of her thigh, then sucks until he leaves a bruise.
“You’re gonna leave marks everywhere Jaime”
He crawls back up slowly, kissing her belly, sucking the skin on the top of her right breast.
“I know” he bites on her neck again.
“You’re doing it on purpose”
He kisses her mouth, deep, until her lips are swollen and red.
“I know”
“Wench”
“Brienne Jaime. My name is-“
“I don’t think now that I know how you taste like and how you feel like… I don’t think it helped.”
She turns around in his arms, her cheeks red and warm, a shy smile on her lips.
“I tried to tell you that… before. That it wouldn’t help”
“Hmm. So it’s your fault then. Now you’ll have to put up with me. It serves you right”
She laughs, loud, rich, nothing like the shy girl blushing around his apartment and driving him insane, nothing like the moody woman scowling at him through the dinner table, nothing like Brienne.
So much like Brienne.
So is it? In your eye?
Yes.