Chapter Text
If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.
It seemed like an eternity since she had last kissed Jaime, rather than barely an hour and a half, and his mouth felt like the most welcoming place in the world. He pulled away at long last, drawing a soft moan of regret from her throat, and rested his forehead against hers, smiling as he gazed into her eyes.
‘Where were you?’ he breathed in a tone of gentle reproach. ‘You said you’d call, and then I tried to call you but you didn’t answer. I was frantic.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured again, marvelling at this new experience of having someone, besides her father, worry about her. ‘I didn’t have any pockets so I left my phone in the dressing room earlier. I didn’t think.’
He kissed her gently. ‘It’s okay. I know you were mad at me. Next time, please just call, though? I thought you’d either been hit by a bus or that I’d scared you off for good and that you’d been scooped up and carried off by some vile, hairy journalist type.’
‘As if that would happen,’ she snorted.
‘What do you mean? Didn’t you spot that manky ginger-bearded member of the Great Unwashed who was leering at you over the buffet earlier?
‘I think you’re imagining things, Jaime.’
‘I most certainly am not,’ he responded haughtily. ‘I didn’t recognise him, so he’s either new or more likely a local type, judging by the looks of him, but he was staring at your legs while munching a chicken leg lasciviously in your direction. I wanted to vomit and punch him in the face, not necessarily in that order.’
Brienne clasped her hands around his neck and frowned. ‘Now I know you’re imagining things. Nobody eats a chicken leg “lasciviously”. And nobody ever looks at me… that way, either.’
‘I do,’ he replied at once with a flash of a grin. ‘You looked damned good enough to eat in that dress, wench, I’m telling you.’ He stopped, leaned back a little and looked down at her body for the first time, smirking slightly. ‘Speaking of – where is your dress?’
‘It, um – it kind of got ruined,’ she admitted with a blush.
Horrified realisation dawned on his face. ‘Oh gods. I didn’t – did I? Shit, I’m so sorry.’
‘No, not… that,’ she said, feeling her blush deepen to puce level, ‘but let’s just say there were, um, marks. I guess neither of us noticed, but Margaery said I was looking “ravished”. Fortunately she spotted me before anyone else did, and she had to… sort me out. She also had to lend me this,’ she added, unwinding the pink scarf from her neck to allow him to survey the damage.
‘Ooh-hoo-hoo, ouch,’ he chuckled. ‘Sorry. Well, actually, no I’m not.’ He grinned, kissed her on the nose, and then stretched his head backwards, extending his muscular throat. ‘You know, you could always return the favour,’ he said mischievously. ‘Come on, right here.’
Awkwardly, she kissed his neck in the proffered spot. He smelled of pine and cinnamon and Jaime, and his skin was the texture of warm velvet against her lips. She heard herself make a small noise, echoed by him, and then moved away.
‘Well, nice as that was, wench, it’s hardly going to draw blood, now is it? Come on, give it some oomph.’
‘I – I don’t know how, Jaime.’
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with affection. ‘Really? And I thought I’d demonstrated pretty well, earlier.’ He heaved a fake sigh. ‘Obviously we’re going to need more practice. It’s a tough job, but’ –
‘Stop teasing me!’ she cried. ‘It’s not fair. I told you I’ve got next to no experience in… these things. Please don’t make it worse.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said in a contrite voice, hugging her. ‘I’m just trying to lighten the mood a bit. Don’t you realise I’m nervous as fuck here too?’
‘You are?’ she breathed.
‘Of course. Look, come in properly, will you? Let’s go and sit down. I don’t want to have this conversation in the bloody hallway.’
‘Hallway?’ she repeated wonderingly, and looked past his shoulder for the first time. The suite began with a small lobby area, equipped with coat stand, umbrella stand and shoe rack, half separated off from the rest of the space by an ornately carved wooden screen. Jaime unwound his arms from her waist and, taking her hand, led her past this to where it opened out into an extensive, lushly carpeted lounge, opulently furnished with an upholstered chaise longue, matching armchairs and drapes swathing three full-length windows, as well as several low, marble-topped tables in the same dark, carved wood, and an immense plasma TV on the wall.
‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he said wryly.
Gawping, Brienne took in the rest of her surroundings. A door on the left was ajar, giving a glimpse onto an equally luxurious bedroom – the corner of a pristine bed just visible – and beyond that she could sense a warm haze emanating from the bathroom in the wake of Jaime’s shower. To the right, another door led off into what looked like a second, smaller bedroom-slash-office, where she could see a shiny laptop open on a huge mahogany desk. Everything was in tones of cream, dark chocolate brown, and gold, with occasional red accents. The title of ‘Royal Suite’ was certainly accurate.
Brienne turned around in circles, trying to take it all in. ‘This room is insane, Jaime. It’s like a palace. It’s bigger than my entire apartment.’
He slid an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple lightly.
‘Is it? It is a bit ridiculous, I grant you. I did ask Tyrion to just book me a normal room, but of course once they heard who it was for, they insisted I had to have this one. They probably never normally get any guests here who can afford it, so I can’t really begrudge them. Besides, I’m here for two months, so it is nice to have a little bit of space. But if you hate it, we’ll fix it, okay?’ Brienne nodded uncertainly, not sure what he was suggesting. ‘Would you like a drink, or something?’ he asked.
She shook her head and looked around the room again as she followed him to the chaise longue, taking in elaborate lighting fixtures, and artwork which wouldn’t have looked out of place in an upmarket gallery. Jaime sat, and she lowered herself beside him, a combination of the intimidating surroundings and the growing proximity of his bed suddenly causing her heart to quicken as her newfound confidence began to waver.
‘Jaime’ – she began uncertainly, turning to him, afraid of hurting him but needing to tell him the whole truth, ‘it wasn’t easy for me to come here tonight, you know. I nearly didn’t. I – I actually avoided checking my phone until I’d got halfway home in a taxi.’ At the sight of his concerned frown, she added hurriedly, ‘B-but I was going to call you when I got back. Even though it was late. Or at least send you a message. I’m sorry. I was just’ –
‘Freaking out because tonight’s been a bit like being on the world’s scariest rollercoaster ride?’ he suggested with a smile, biting his lip.
‘You feel that way too?’ she murmured with relief.
‘Wench, six hours ago I was preparing to step out on stage in front of an audience for the first time in twenty years - minus a hand, utterly terrified, and convinced that I’d be an object of either ridicule for attempting such a thing, or hatred, thanks to that bloody Bolton article. Then my godsdamned father appears on the scene, and I figured if I was going to throw myself off a cliff, I may as well do it in style, so I went on and gave it my best shot. Two hours later, I find myself getting a standing ovation, I tell my father to go hang, the whole world and his wife is showering me with adulation again, and then the person I’m completely in love with announces that she loves me back, and we get up to all kinds of delicious things, only for it to fall apart again briefly and send me into an hour of panic that I’d blown it for good - and now here you are in my room at two a.m. So yeah, you could say it’s been an eventful night! I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I’m literally like a jelly inside. Feel.’
He raised her hand first to his racing heart, then, with a smile, lowered it to his stomach, where she could dimly detect a certain fluttering tension beneath the firm surface of his defined abs. Then she was unable to prevent her gaze from flickering just a little lower, and raised her eyes with a quizzical smirk, despite the flaring blush which she could sense in her cheeks.
‘Okay, so maybe not every part of me is wobbly,’ said Jaime with a wink. ‘And you’ll be pleased to know – at least, I hope you will – that I solved our little, um, supply problem of earlier on tonight. Courtesy of Tyrion. I had to tell him what happened. The poor guy had been covering for me at the party the whole time. He more or less guessed, in any case. So, yeah, I, um - I now have… the things which we didn’t have before.’
Her blush deepened when she realised what he was talking about. ‘Oh. Um, I do too.’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘From Margaery.’
‘Is that so?’ he drawled with a grin, slipping his arms around her again and beginning to kiss her neck. ‘Interesting. Well, that that’ll keep us going for a little while, then. At least until the shops open again in the morning.’
‘Jaime!’ she laughed in protest, even as her mind reeled and her skin heated at the tantalising notion that he could truly be considering a long night of active debauchery with her. Then amid her shock and arousal, a sudden thought struck her. ‘Wait – if I’ve got Margaery’s, and you’ve got Tyrion’s, then that means’ –
Jaime paused and then threw his head back and guffawed with laughter. ‘Oh, that’s classic! Fuck, that’s given me enough ammunition to tease him for at least the next decade!’
‘Jaime, don’t,’ she admonished gently. ‘Tyrion cares about you so much. Did you know he left me a key card for your room at reception tonight?’
‘Did he? The cheeky little bugger,’ said Jaime, sobering up. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been embarrassing for you.’
‘Well, it was a little, yes. Being handed it by that weird Jaqen guy. But at least it saved me the humiliation of having to ask for your room number.’
‘Yes, well, if you’d just called me…’ he said pointedly, though she could tell from the expression in his eyes that he wasn’t really annoyed.
‘Or if I’d just said yes when you first asked me…’ she admitted sheepishly.
‘No, stop that, d’you hear? I get why you didn’t, and it’s okay.’ He caressed her hand tenderly. ‘Look, Brienne, I’ve told you a dozen times, I’ll wait as long as it takes. I want you like crazy, but if you’re not sure, then’ –
She gulped and shook her head. ‘No, Jaime, I’m sure. I – I want you too. I wouldn’t have come back if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure about that.’ She tried to draw him in for a passionate kiss but he held her back.
‘But listen,’ he continued, his breathing picking up, ‘I need to know that you’re not going to run out on me again. If we go to that bed – and it is very, very large’ – he added with a smirk, punctuating his words with pecks on her nose, cheeks and eyelids – ‘I need to be certain that I’m still going to find you there when I wake up tomorrow. Or, y’know, later today.’ He searched her eyes. ‘How do you feel about that?’
Surely I should be the one saying this kind of thing to him? She looked around the room anxiously.
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ she blurted. ‘I mean, I’m just… me, and you’re’ – she waved her hands around, trying to encompass him, the room, everything, to demonstrate her meaning – ‘Jaime Lannister.’
There was a pause, and when she eventually dared to raise her eyes to his again, there was mirth in them.
‘Brienne,’ he said slowly, his lips twitching, ‘did you just say my name with jazz hands?’
His amusement was infectious and she let out a slight snort of self-deprecation. ‘Maybe.’
He took her hand again and pinned her with a more serious look. ‘I thought you of all people understood,’ he said gravely, ‘that Jaime Lannister, with or without jazz hand’ – he waggled his hand and stump half-heartedly – ‘is little more than a… brand name. It’s just a job I do. A job which I’m not even sure I want to do anymore, not in the same way. It’s not who I am. I’m… just Jaime. Just a guy,’ he said with a simple shrug, and then swallowed hard. ‘Your guy, if you’ll have me.’
Brienne could feel her pulse walloping in her throat under his earnest gaze.
‘Are you saying,’ she whispered, ‘that you want us to… date?’
‘No, Brienne, I’m not saying I want us to date, because we’re not sixteen years old,’ he said with mild exasperation. ‘I’m saying’ – he laced his fingers even tighter with hers, searching her eyes – ‘that I want to have a relationship with you. A serious, long-term, monogamous, committed relationship. If... that’s okay with you?’
‘You and me?’
‘You and me,’ he repeated unhesitatingly, with a solemn nod.
A tremor ran through her. She found it hard to imagine what the future might hold, but she was beginning to be less afraid of it as her belief in Jaime’s feelings grew stronger by the minute. Nevertheless, things were rushing along at a breakneck pace and her mind had scarcely caught up to the reality of what was happening to the two of them.
‘B-but how would that work?’ she gulped, feeling her breath starting to come in panicked spurts. ‘Apart from anything else, you live in King’s Landing, I live here… and – and then there’s the press, and’ –
He sighed and sat back, looking at his knees. ‘I’m rushing you. Fuck. Sorry.’ He scrubbed his hand over his face. ‘Okay, how about this? Can you promise me just one thing? No more running? Please? We can work out practicalities later. I just need to know we’re on the same page, that’s all. I know that this is – that I’m a lot to take on, but I promise you, I’m in this one hundred percent, Brienne. I’m not going anywhere. Can you promise me the same? That you’re not going to turn around tomorrow and change your mind about this? About me?’
My life is changed forever, she thought again, but it didn’t seem so bad, not if the alternative was being apart from him. ‘I promise, Jaime,’ she said resolutely.
‘Thank the gods,’ he breathed, and crushed his lips onto hers. ‘Now,’ he whispered hoarsely when he drew back, his eyes blazing with love, ‘will you come to bed with me? Please?’
With a desperate whimper, she nodded, and lost herself in his mouth.
Not breaking the kiss, he rose to his feet, tugging her willingly after him, and together they made their way stumblingly across the room. Brienne, unfamiliar with the surroundings and entirely enveloped in Jaime, knocked her knees and toes against several large marble or wooden objects, but she was past feeling any pain. She was dimly aware of Jaime knocking something over. Still joined at the lips, their legs entwined, and with their hands now making roving explorations, they finally bumped through the doorway into the bedroom. Jaime broke away and swung her around, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He leaned his chin on her shoulder and kissed her neck resoundingly.
‘See what I mean?’ he asked cheekily, directing her gaze with a nod.
Brienne gasped. In front of her was the most jaw-droppingly enormous bed she had ever seen. It was around twice the size of a normal double, decked out in crisp cream cotton sheets, a rich gold-coloured tapestry runner, and an impressive mountain of huge, fluffy pillows, accented with coordinated throw cushions. Jaime’s black shirt and trousers from earlier were thrown casually across the corner of the bed. Around the room, artfully placed lighting created a warm, welcoming glow, and it was finished off with bedside cabinets in the same design as the lounge furniture, and another vast TV screen on the wall facing the bed.
‘Who on earth are they expecting to stay here?’ she exclaimed. ‘That bed looks as though it could easily sleep about six people!’
‘Or two very tall people, who have other much more interesting activities than sleep on their minds, hmm?’ He began nibbling on her earlobe, pressing close to her so that she could feel his cock jutting into her backside. His hand started to wander under the edge of her top and caress her stomach and her sides, creeping slowly upwards, as he bent to kiss her and then attack her neck again.
‘Jaime!’ she protested mildly, turning as he started to suck on a spot which was still feeling raw from earlier. ‘Don’t. That’s sore.’
‘Sorry.’ He straightened up. His eyes were dark with desire but she could now clearly see the nerves written on his face. He was doing his best to conceal it, but he was trembling a little.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to be bold. ‘Wasn’t I going to return the favour?’
‘You were,’ he smiled with delight and pulled her closer, offering her his neck as before. ‘Go on then. I’m all yours, wench. Just suck. Hard,’ he instructed when she hesitated.
It looked very tempting, but she chewed her lip for a moment more. ‘Above your collar line?’ she asked dubiously. ‘What about the show? And photographers, and stuff?’
Jaime grinned again. ‘Oh, well if you insist, wench,’ he smirked, and in an instant he had reached down, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and whipped it off over his head.
All breath left her body at the sight. Swallowing hard, she stroked his chest in awe, running her hands through the soft golden hairs there and swirling her fingers against his burnished skin, finally caressing a perfect nipple. Jaime drew in a few rapid breaths and growled, ‘Kiss me.’
She went for his mouth first and he returned her kiss hungrily, but remembering her intention she quickly broke off and kissed her way first down his throat, as he threw his head back to soak it up, and finally to his chest. She kissed and nibbled her way around experimentally, thoroughly enjoying Jaime’s little groans, until she found a spot which looked particularly tasty. She licked him there a few times, and then boldly latched her mouth on and sucked hard as he had instructed, using her lips and tongue and teeth, feeling Jaime squirm slightly even as he moaned and tightened his grip on her body. When she finally let him go, she was gratified to see a small, yet quite distinguishable pinkish mark on his skin. She beamed up at him in triumph.
‘Well, there you go,’ he said proudly, squinting down at himself and then smiling at her. ‘You’ve branded me now. “Property of Wench”, that says. See?’
‘You’re ridiculous,’ she tutted, burrowing her face against him, as much out of overwhelming happiness as embarrassment.
‘Hmm, what’s striking me as ridiculous right about now is the fact I bloody well still haven’t seen you naked,’ he retorted. ‘Even with everything we got up to earlier tonight. So. How about it?’ His fingers recommenced their wanderings under her t-shirt.
‘Well, technically, you weren’t naked either. You still had your shirt on. Sort of.’
‘Oh, so you hadn’t seen, what? My biceps and my shoulders? Well, here they are.’
‘They’re very nice biceps and shoulders,’ she offered shyly.
‘Why, thank you. Very kind of you to say. Still not a fair trade though. Seriously, wench, throw a man a lifeline here. I’ve felt, I’ve licked, and gods know I’ve imagined. Now I want to see. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.’
Sudden panic overtook her. ‘Are you sure you’re not tired?’ she asked abruptly, running her hands anxiously over him with a belated blush. ‘It’s late, and it’s been quite a night, like you said.’
‘It certainly has,’ he agreed with a suggestive grin. ‘I think it’s about to get even better, though. And funnily enough, I’m feeling remarkably energetic all of a sudden.’
She gulped and looked at the floor. ‘You – you might be disappointed, Jaime.’
‘Hey. Look at me.’ She obeyed, and was stunned by the expression in his eyes. ‘Not possible. Okay? Nothing about you could ever disappoint me. Haven’t you grasped this yet, you insane wench? Oh for the love of the Seven,’ he huffed exasperatedly when she continued to hesitate, and hooking his thumb into the waistband of his sweatpants, he shimmied them down. He was wearing nothing underneath them, and his cock sprang free with considerable vigour, leaving the sweatpants to pool to the floor. Jaime kicked them away impatiently and stood before her, gloriously naked and seeming to glow in the warm light.
His beauty almost brought tears to her eyes. ‘You’re so gorgeous,’ she breathed shakily. ‘I have no idea what you see in someone like me. You could have anyone you want.’
‘Brienne,’ he said pleadingly. ‘Unless you join me right now, then that statement is blatantly untrue.’ He moved to the bed, threw aside a few of the cushions, pulled back the cover and sat down, looking up at her expectantly. ‘I love you, wench,’ he repeated.
Ridiculous as it seemed, it was his use of his nickname for her – that infuriating word that had so incensed her when they first met, when he seemed to be using it purely to torment her – which settled her nerves. Regardless of the tumultuous events of the evening, and of their relationship evolving at a dizzying speed, he was still Jaime. Her Jaime, who called her ‘wench’ and teased her and appreciated her, and for some mysterious reason, was indisputably physically attracted to her. Everything had changed, and yet everything was still the same.
Taking the deepest breath of her life, she closed her eyes, and quickly pulled off her sweater and t-shirt in one go. She opened her eyes again but didn’t quite have the courage to look at him. Instead, she kicked off her shoes and, with another steadying breath, she unbuttoned her jeans and wriggled out of them, leaving just her underwear. Finally, she dared a look at Jaime. His gaze was travelling up and down her body with an expression that was half transported rapture and half unconcealed, ravenous desire. She saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down a couple of times.
‘Well, you may as well take those off as well,’ he rasped in a deep voice. ‘That’s the one part I have seen. Seen, licked, tasted, fingered, f-‘
‘Okay, okay, I get it,’ she gasped, and hurriedly dispensed with her underwear, standing awkwardly next to the bed while he studied her. The silence seemed to last forever.
‘You are glorious, Brienne,’ he croaked eventually, reaching for her. ‘You have the most incredible body I’ve ever seen.’ She snorted in disbelief. ‘What?’ he said gently, caressing her side. ‘Seriously, you have to stop that. I mean it. You’re a goddess. I told you that earlier and I’m going to keep on telling you until you believe me. Look at you – your muscles are better than mine.’
‘And that’s a good thing, is it?’ she protested sceptically. ‘I thought men liked soft, curvy girls.’
‘Wench,’ he insisted, breathing heavily. ‘I’m not “men”, and you’re not “girls”. I’m me, and you’re you, and right now, as you can see’ – he glanced down at his erection with a smirk – ‘there’s only one place I want to be, if you know what I’m saying. Now, fucking kiss me and get into my godsdamned bed, will you? I want to finally feast on those perfect little tits of yours which have been tormenting me for weeks.’
As he said this, his hand moved up to caress her right breast, thumbing her nipple, and her knees buckled. Half-rising, Jaime caught her as a virtual paroxysm of desire swept through her like a tidal wave. Blindly, she brought her mouth to his and he met her with an ecstatic moan, as a combination of sheer gravity and her own sudden desperate impetus drove him backwards onto the bed, Brienne falling on top of him as they kissed and writhed on the immense mattress, entangled in sheets and grappling with each other, both grunting and breathless.
Eventually, after a long time of this which left Brienne wet and pulsing with need, Jaime gained the advantage and somehow managed to roll her underneath him, kissing her devouringly as he held her head steady between his forearms.
‘Gods, Brienne,’ he gasped, taking a second to pause for breath, his chest heaving wildly.
‘I thought you wanted to – feast on my tits,’ she panted, all shame forgotten.
With a wicked, wild-eyed grin, he nodded vigorously and wriggled down to drop his head to her chest and made good on his suggestion. After a while, she felt his hand creeping lower, and his fingers moved up between her legs, finding the spot which made her arch against him, mewling almost loudly enough to drown out the positively obscene, appreciative noises coming from his throat. By the time he had finished licking and sucking and nipping and caressing, her entire body felt as though it was on fire, clamouring for his in a way which she hadn’t known possible. Everywhere that he was touching her, from his lips and tongue on her breasts and his fingers deep in her folds, to his chest hair brushing her stomach, and his cock rubbing very insistently against her thigh, was an exquisite agony. She tugged on his hair and brought his face up to hers again, claiming his mouth in a way which she hoped conveyed the urgency of her desire.
When Jaime made no move to escalate, she grew impatient and reached down and, finding his cock, she wrapped her hand around it and gave it a couple of meaningful tugs. Jaime groaned and bucked against her a little, but seemed to be content to continue almost eating her alive. Brienne pumped him desperately until he wrenched his head up with a cry.
‘Gods, wench, go easy,’ he moaned.
‘Jaime,’ she gasped. ‘Jaime…’
‘Tell me what you want, Brienne,’ he said gruffly.
The throbbing need between her thighs was threatening to engulf her. ‘You!’ she almost wailed. ‘I want you, Jaime.’
He wriggled higher until his face was so close that their noses were touching. His eyes looked black as night, and his weight on her was perfect. ‘Be. More. Specific,’ he almost snarled, his eyes boring into hers - a challenge.
Brienne gulped hard. ‘I want you – inside,’ she managed, and stroked his cock again for emphasis. ‘Your c-cock, Jaime. Inside me. Now.’
‘That an order?’ he asked breathlessly, biting into his grin before moving his head to nibble at her earlobe. ‘Are you sure you’re ready?’ He moved his finger inside her in some way which produced a strangled scream from her throat.
‘Oh gods, Jaime! Please!’ she begged.
Jaime grinned again, kissed her, and then wriggled off, causing her to cry out in protest when he removed his finger, but he had merely scuttled the considerable distance to the bedside cabinet, and quickly returned to her, clutching in his hand a black packet identical to the one which Margaery had given her earlier. Then he sat back on his haunches and regarded it with dismay.
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘What? Oh!’ she realised instantly, seeing that he was staring at his stump with disgust. Jaime looked defeated as she rapidly sat up, gently took the condom box from his grasp and began to open it and extract one.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled into her shoulder. ‘This problem had not occurred to me.’ He watched her, a pained expression in his eyes, then gave a rueful snort. ‘Are you quite sure you want to make love to a man who’s so useless he can’t even take care of this for himself?’
Brienne halted in her task and faced him, love and frustration making her blood boil. ‘Now who’s being insane?’ she asked hotly. ‘Didn’t that show tonight teach you anything? You’re not useless, and I won’t have you talking like that!’
His expression softened at once and he leant his forehead against hers, kissing her gratefully. ‘Crap. I’m sorry. We are a pair, aren’t we? Just having a moment of battered masculine pride, that’s all. I haven’t done… this – y’know – since it happened. Can you forgive me, under the circumstances?’
She cupped his chin in her free hand. ‘Just so long as you know that I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you, Jaime.’
His eyes glistened and he stared deep into her eyes, breathing heavily, then glanced down between them to where she was clutching the still-wrapped condom, just a few inches away from his straining erection.
‘Well, you’d better get on with that job, then, hadn’t you, wench,’ he growled. ‘Because I don’t know how much longer I can wait to be deep inside the woman I love.’
Gulping, Brienne nodded and obeyed, all blushes and trembling fingers, Jaime helping her as much as he was able and groaning in obvious pleasure when she touched him. When he was ready, he kissed her again, long and deep, and then moved forward, pushing her down again onto the bed, resting his weight on his forearms and on her. Not taking his eyes off her face, he positioned himself at her entrance and laced his fingers in her right hand, while her left stroked his arm tenderly.
‘I love you so much,’ he whispered, and enclosing her mouth in his, he pushed inside her.
Nothing - least of all her sole, paltry, brief, unsatisfying encounter with Hyle – had prepared her for the sensation of Jaime’s hard length stretched inside her, filling and stroking her in places she had barely known she possessed. She tore her mouth away to emit a loud gasp and clutched at the back of his neck, bucking up against him wildly, her eyes flying open in disbelief. Jaime’s eyes were closed, his jaw clenched and his head turned to the side, his face contorted as though in pain.
‘Jaime? Are you okay?’ she panted.
He groaned in reply and executed a long, slow thrust, out and then in again, causing her to cry out. ‘Holy fuck, Brienne,’ he gritted out, and finally opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with one equally incredulous. ‘You feel amazing. Fuck. Is this – okay?’
Dumbly, she nodded as he repeated the move, still agonisingly slowly, watching her as she moved up to meet him. Then, with a grin, he pulled upwards again, and lingered for a moment before slamming into her, deeper and harder than before, letting out a loud moan as he did so.
‘Jaime!’ she screamed, feeling as though she might combust from within.
Growling, he brought his mouth to hers again and she devoured him in response, releasing him only to gasp for breath when his hips struck up a steady pace on top of her. Jaime reared up slightly and grinned at her, looking flushed and breathless, and lowered his head to give her breasts some further attention. Brienne was scarcely aware of what her limbs were doing – her legs wrapped around Jaime’s waist, heels digging into his bottom, her hands moving and grasping to feel as much of his skin as they possibly could. But her world was narrowed to the point where they were joined, molten and desperate, her need mounting with every stroke until she found herself urgently thrusting her hips upwards into a quicker pace.
Jaime cried out, a beautiful sound to her ears. He gripped her head and his eyes blazed into hers. ‘Tell me what you want,’ he panted again, a new urgency to his tone.
‘More,’ she croaked, arching into him helplessly. ‘Harder, Jaime!’
‘Oh gods!’ he yelled, and quickened his movements just the way she needed – faster, deeper, perfect. She watched him as long as she could, eyes and jaw wide open, revelling in the way his features changed as he kept up his relentless thrusting, sweat dripping from his forehead. Then he cried out again, higher and louder, and his eyes screwed shut, and she felt his legs spasm.
‘Brienne!’ he gasped. ‘Oh fucking hells, are you close?’
Her eyes snapped closed and she groaned in desperation. Close? She was about to detonate. ‘Yes!’ she managed to squeal. ‘Yes, oh yes, Jaime, yes, yes…’
He gave a strangled cry, then altered the angle of his thrust and suddenly nothing else existed. She heard herself scream out. Jaime seemed to grow bigger within her, and his movements became erratic and frantic. Clutching at his shoulders, Brienne let her body take over. For a few endless seconds she was stretched taut as a steel cable as blood pounded in her ears over the noise of their loud cries. Then the world exploded and she was tumbling, flying, melting, breaking apart and floating back together, gripping Jaime hard inside even as he jerked wildly two more times before finally slamming against her with a deafening roar. He moaned her name, his body shuddering uncontrollably, and at last collapsed onto her shoulder, panting loudly, while waves of pleasure continued to wash over her and her own sighs echoed in her ears.
‘Seven fucking hells,’ gasped Jaime against her neck. He nuzzled until she turned to him and opened her eyes, wondering if she looked as stunned as he did. He grinned sleepily. ‘Well, wench,’ he drawled, still breathless. ‘Good thing we took the edge off earlier, huh? That was quite something.’
‘It was,’ she whispered shyly, nodding.
He grinned again and leaned up to kiss her on the lips with a little hum of contentment, and she felt him start to slip from her. Wincing, he grunted an apology and extracted himself, both of them letting out an involuntary groan as he did so. When he had taken care of the condom he flopped back down, rolled onto his side and snuggled up to her, settling his head on the pillow close to hers, and a low, rumbling chuckle left his chest.
Brienne kicked him lightly in the shin and tugged on his hair. ‘Do you always laugh? You know – after?’ she asked, both warmed and embarrassed by the intimacy but uncertain how to respond.
The fingers of his left hand, trapped somewhere beneath them, pinched her buttock gently in response. ‘Dunno,’ he responded happily. ‘Can’t remember. Don’t think so.’
‘So there’s something inherently funny about me, then, is there?’
Jaime pushed himself up on his elbow and regarded her. ‘Are you teasing me? Or are you being a ridiculously idiotic wench again?’
She glanced at his face but couldn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘I – I’m not sure.’
‘Brienne. Look at me. Please.’
She complied, turning onto her side to observe his still-flushed face, dark eyes and swollen lips. Swollen from my kisses. Jaime shuffled closer, entwining himself around her.
‘I’m happy, for fuck’s sake, wench. Tonight I finally conquered my deepest fears and actually had people respond positively to that – all thanks to you, I might add - and now, to top it all, I’ve just had the most incredible sex ever, with the girl of my dreams. It doesn’t get a lot better than that. Except that it will. If we’re that good on our first try, love, just think what it’s going to be like once we’ve got used to each other a bit and when I can hold out for a bit longer. I’m on cloud fucking nine, Brienne.’ He stroked her face and kissed her tenderly. ‘How about you?’
‘You’re exaggerating, as usual,’ she snorted.
‘About which part?’ he asked in surprise.
‘I’m hardly the girl of anyone’s dreams, Jaime.’
‘You haven’t seen my dreams. They feature you, fairly prominently, usually naked, or with swords. Or sometimes both.’
This time, she was unable to suppress a giggle, wriggling beneath him in a manner which made him groan softly and give her a warning look. ‘That doesn’t count,’ she retorted primly. ‘If you dream about me now, I mean.’
‘Oh really?’ he smirked, and moved his hips against her. Incredibly, she felt a fresh tingle begin at her core in spite of the profound satisfaction she had just experienced. ‘So when exactly did the dreams have to begin in order for them to qualify? Hmm? Because I can assure you that they kicked off around the time you measured me for that costume fitting.’
‘Oh Jaime, they did not.’
‘Oh Brienne. They did. I was hard as a fucking nail that day. Did you seriously not notice?’
‘What?! Why?’
‘Why?’ he repeated with a chuckle. ‘Hmm, let’s see, shall we?’ He shimmied up, and extracting his arm, pretended to hold an imaginary tape measure against her while imitating a husky, seductive, female voice. ‘”I’m just going to take your chest measurement now, Jaime. Oh, wait, I need to come a little closer. Look at my tits, they’re so pert. My, what big biceps you have.”’
She blushed furiously and pulled the sheet up over her naked chest. ‘I don’t talk like that,’ she huffed. ‘And I know for a fact that I’ve never used the word “pert” in my life.’
‘Sshh, wench. This is how I remember it.’ He went on in the same fake voice as before, ‘”Let me touch your arm, Jaime, and show you how I’m not repelled by it, because that’s not a massive fucking turn-on, or anything. Ooh, Jaime, let me measure your inseam. I’ll be gentle, I promise. I just need to fall to my knees so that you can imagine my luscious lips wrapped around your cock, is that okay?” Give me a break, wench. I practically came in my pants.’
‘I most certainly did not say – Stop laughing!’ she cried, grabbing a throw pillow which had somehow miraculously stayed on the bed, and whacking him with it, although she could feel her own grin stretching her cheek muscles. He yelped and tickled her ribs in response. ‘You’re so – ungrateful!’ she burst out, laughter erupting from her finally as he wrapped himself around her again and buried his mouth in her neck, biting at her flesh with a comical sound, even as his fingers continued to torment her.
Summoning her reserves of strength, she rolled so that he was underneath her – a position which he seemed to accept most happily – and propped herself on her elbows before leaning down to kiss him. In a few moments they had turned from silly to sensuous again, his fingers tangled in her hair as her own caressed every part of him they could find and their hips ground dangerously together once again. When she raised her head to draw breath, he was gazing up at her with a look of the purest adoration she had ever seen, and her heart skipped a beat.
‘I’m not ungrateful,’ he rumbled seriously, in a gravelly voice, his hand running gently up and down her back. ‘You know I’m not. You rescued me. I’ve told you that before.’
‘I was only teasing,’ she murmured in sudden consternation. ‘Don’t be upset.’
‘I’m not,’ he said with an easy smile, enfolding her in his arms as she lay atop him. ‘But I’m just trying to tell you, that was the day you started to change my life. The day I fell in love with you, probably. I couldn’t stop looking at you or thinking about you after feeling you so close and having you touch me like that, it’s true, but it was more than that. I meant it – I hadn’t been able to let anyone see my arm – hells, I could hardly bear to look at it myself – and then you did, and all you said was something about what kind of weights I used, or something, and it was like this moment of “Ohhh, maybe there’s a chance that I’m not actually the most repulsive creature ever to walk the face of the earth, after all”. And because it was you, and we were already getting close and I could talk to you, about stuff I cared about which nobody else had ever wanted to listen to, and I could tell what a good and honest person you are and that there was no way you would fake it or sugar-coat anything for me, it was like – a switch flicked inside me, or something. I was a goner from that moment.’
‘You still behaved like an idiot for quite a while after that,’ she objected, half teasing him still although his confession had warmed her to the core.
‘Yes, well, old habits die hard,’ he smirked. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ she murmured. ‘I loved you anyway.’
‘Did you?’ he enquired eagerly, a beam spreading across his face. ‘Do tell. I can’t imagine what on earth made you fall for me – I mean, apart from my devastating good looks and sparkling wit, and your aforementioned weakness for my biceps, obviously, but’ –
She whacked him gently again, laughing. ‘I don’t know when it started,’ she admitted shyly. ‘I realised I loved you when you threw yourself under that stupid chandelier for me and I found myself defending you to Catelyn even as she was demoting me for fraternising with you.’ He chuckled and kissed her again. ‘But it’s because you care, Jaime. I saw how very much you care about it all, and how much integrity you have, and because’ –
‘What?’
‘You saw me,’ she whispered after a moment’s hesitation. ‘You saw me, and you didn’t laugh at me.’
‘I did at first,’ he said glumly. ‘A fact for which I can’t forgive myself.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not. I’m an ass, and I’m sorry.’
‘Stop apologising for everything. I know you didn’t mean it.’ He looked doubtful. ‘It’s true. I’ve known that ever since I realised that your whole act was just your defence mechanism. I love you, and I forgive you.’
‘Gods, I do not deserve you,’ he rumbled, nuzzling her shoulder. ‘But thank you. And thank you, again, also, for yelling at me that day in the car park when I’d just acted like the most colossal tool on the planet. I knew you would. I think, subconsciously, I just was trying to get you to give me the final push that I needed. Hating myself was bloody exhausting, Brienne. I so wanted to feel good again, but I’d been hiding behind a wall for so long, I didn’t have the courage to step out. Not by myself. I could only do it with you beside me. That’s when I knew for sure.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past three years,’ she murmured, her heart aching for him. She slid down, settling herself on his shoulder in the crook of his left arm. Jaime continued to caress her with his right, absently running his stump up and down her side from waist to thigh, as though he had almost forgotten he had no hand there. The sensation of the slightly ridged scar tissue over the weight of his wrist bone, a firmer pressure than fingers would be, was surprisingly pleasurable against her skin. She brought her hand to rest on it and cradled it gently.
‘Seven hells, I’m not talking about the past three years,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Or at least, not just that. I’ve hated myself since I was seventeen. Aerys, Cersei, my so-called acting career, the whole nine fucking yards. I swear to the Seven - and I’ve never told anyone this before - when the doctors told me there was no way they could save my hand, on some level I wasn’t even surprised, you know? It just felt like the fitting culmination to the long shit-storm which began the day I pulled that trigger, if not before. A just punishment, maybe.’
She looked up anxiously into his face. ‘Jaime, you mustn’t think of it like that.’
‘I don’t,’ he said with a smile. ‘Not any more.’ She nestled down again, feeling warm and safe and loved. ‘But, to put it in theatrical terms, it was the plot twist at the end of Act Two of my life. Turns out, in Act Three, I’m not the character everyone thought I was. Everyone including myself. I was that good at the part. Now I just have to get used to playing me instead. It’s going to be… an adjustment.’
‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll help you. Though, I think you’re actually pretty good at this new role too, for what it’s worth.’ She felt him smile again, and plant a kiss on the top of her head. ‘And I get it completely, you know. The theatre was the only place I ever really felt accepted for who I am, instead of being made to feel like a freak by guys like Ron and Hyle. Theatre’s full of misfits. That’s why it suits me, I suppose.’
‘You’re not a misfit,’ growled Jaime, hugging her tighter and grinding his jaw so hard that she could hear it above her head. ‘You’re more like a bloody miracle. And those fucking animals are sewer rats who aren’t fit to feed off your crumbs.’
‘That was very poetic, Jaime,’ she smiled.
‘Well, you deserve poetry. But I don’t want to talk about them.’ He turned on his side to look at her, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. ‘I want to talk about your freckles.’
‘My freckles?’
‘Mm-hmm. I seem to remember saying that I was going to eat them all. The question is, where to start?’ He bent and licked gently at her collarbone, then looked up at her again mischievously. Encouraged by her laughter, he moved lower and applied his tongue to the top of her breast. ‘Mmm, so many. So beautiful and delicious,’ he growled. ‘I do hope you didn’t have any other plans, wench. This could take all night.’
‘Jaime!’ she giggled, feeling shameless, her voice rising to a girlish shriek as Jaime worked his way steadily down her body, lapping diligently at each freckle as he went.
**************************************
Blinking in the darkness, she stretched her legs, expecting to come into contact with the foot of the mattress as she normally did. Her sheets felt abnormally soft this morning, and her bed overwhelmingly comfortable and luxurious, as though warmed by its own internal heat source. She burrowed down, an exquisite heaviness in her limbs threatening to pull her back into sleep, but something wasn’t quite right. Her room wasn’t usually this dark. There should be street lights or daylight pouring in through the thin curtains. Also, her toes had not hit the end of the bed, and she could detect an ache in a few unfamiliar muscles.
Her half-awake brain was just attempting to sort these experiences into some meaningful order when the heat source behind her grunted, moved, brought a hairy shin into contact with the sole of her foot, and finally flung a heavy, handless arm across her waist before settling into stillness again.
Wide awake now, Brienne froze, then shifted onto her back, painstakingly slowly, and finally plucked up the courage look to her right.
Even in the gloom – which she now realised was due to blackout blinds – the view of a naked, sleeping Jaime Lannister next to her in bed, his golden hair tousled and the sheets artfully pooling around his hips like something out of an erotic photoshoot, while a hint of a satisfied smile played on his lips, was quite a sight to wrap her head around. She had no recollection of switching off the lights last night. Jaime must have hit some central switch or remote in order to do so, but her memories were little more than a delicious and confusing jumble of desire and mind-numbing pleasure, overflowing emotions and sweet, whispered words. She had no idea how many times they had made love (three? four?) before finally collapsing into tangled sleep, all self-consciousness at the unfamiliarity of sharing a bed forgotten in the joy and comfort they found in each other. Clearly, somehow, during the night – or morning, it must be – each had found their own sleeping space, and yet now, here was Jaime, wrapped around her in sleep as closely as if they had been sharing a tiny tent rather than a vast super-kingsize hotel bed.
She had never had the chance to study him unobserved before, except when he was acting, and she longed for more light in order to do so more closely. His beauty was flawless and quite staggering. Her heart quickened and flipped over even as she felt herself blushing at the memory of everything they had done, and she was torn between the desire to explore and caress every inch of him, and a desperate urge to run away before he opened his eyes and was met with the infinitely less impressive spectacle of her own naked and rumpled self.
Remembering her solemn promise to him, she fought this urge down as hard as she could, but fear was starting to grip her stomach. What if he wakes up and regrets the whole thing? she thought. What if he was just carried away by everything last night? What if he’s had enough now? Her common sense was trying valiantly to argue that everything Jaime had said belied all three of these possibilities, and indeed that he had indicated having similar worries about her own intentions, but the insecurities of a lifetime were not that easy to overcome.
She looked around helplessly in search of anything that would tell her what time it was. There was no clock in the room and the timer display on the TV was off. Her phone must still be in her backpack, which she vaguely remembered dropping inside the main door to the suite when she first fell into Jaime’s arms on arrival. Jaime’s phone was on the bedside cabinet on his side of the bed. Gingerly, she picked up his arm and slowly lifted it off herself. Jaime mumbled in his sleep and turned onto his back. After waiting a few seconds to check that he wasn’t about to wake, Brienne slowly pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed, the air against her naked skin something of a shock after the toasty comfort of Jaime’s embrace.
She tiptoed all the way around the huge bed, blushing again as she noted the empty condom pack lying on the cabinet. Carefully, she picked up the phone; it was switched off. She hesitated a moment with it in her hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to switch on another person’s phone without their permission – even if that same person had spent the best part of the night with various parts of their body intimately attached to various parts of hers. Besides, there was always the risk that it would play a loud tone and wake him up, so she replaced it quietly and started towards the lounge area.
However, she was beginning to get goosebumps, and her nipples were becoming erect in a way which had nothing to do with Jaime and everything to do with Winterfell’s climate and under-heated buildings, and in any case she felt awkward walking around his suite naked by herself. She shot another look at the bed and the sleeping beauty in it, briefly wondering how people in films always somehow managed to swathe themselves in a sheet in this situation without disturbing their bedmate, then glanced dubiously at the scattered heap of her not-very-clean clothes on the floor, and finally, with relief, remembered that posh hotels would most likely provide robes.
Sure enough, after opening a few closets as quietly as she could, she found two snow-white, impossibly fluffy towelling bath robes hanging there, emblazoned with the hotel’s logo and arranged beautifully on hangers. She slipped one on gratefully, marvelling that it was actually big enough for her, and quickly went to retrieve her phone. The battery was at death’s door, but she was at least able to determine the time – 10.20 a.m. – and that there were no calls from her father or anyone else, before reluctantly switching it off and putting it back in the backpack. As she did so, her hand brushed against Margaery’s clutch bag.
Swallowing hard, she pulled it out, then hesitated and started to stuff it back down, trying to quell her sudden surge of excitement. Jaime’s naked body, protested her brain. Jaime. More sex. Jaime. She glanced back towards the bedroom, her breath quickening, and then before she could second-guess herself any further she rapidly opened the clutch bag, extracted the second, unopened, pack of condoms, and hurried back.
Of course, he was still sleeping, and she stood there for a few moments, feeling a fool. Should I wake him? Just climb on top of him or something? She couldn’t imagine doing anything so bold. Breathing slowly in an attempt to still her palpitating heart and the unexpected but definitely mounting tingle between her legs, she put the condoms down next to the empty packet and hurried on through into the bathroom.
Sitting on the toilet, she looked around. She had used it during the night but had been in too much of a sex-induced stupor to take in the splendour which extended even in here. Everything was bronze, marble, glass, and shone so brightly she almost needed sunglasses, despite there being no window. Fluffy towels adorned various rails around the room, along with small, intimate hints of Jaime – a razor, a few ferociously expensive-looking grooming products, and an almost empty pack of nicotine patches. There was a gigantic shower cubicle which would easily accommodate two people, and the promised hot tub, sunk into the floor, flanked by a full-length mirror which she had no desire to look in.
When she had relieved herself, however, she steeled her nerve to take a peek at herself in the smaller mirror over the sink. It was much the same story as after the party, only worse, her face now sleep-crinkled and her hair a giant bird’s nest of frizz. Belatedly, she remembered Margaery’s hairbrush in her bag, but didn’t dare to tiptoe past Jaime a third time, so instead she opened a few drawers and eventually came upon a hotel-issue comb, which she doubted would be up to the task, but it was worth a shot. She also discovered a guest pack containing a toothbrush and toothpaste, and cleaned her teeth with some relief, relishing the splash of cold water on her face, and finally, self-consciously, she reached for what appeared to be a clean washcloth and soaped herself under the arms and then gingerly around the sticky, aching spot at the junction of her thighs.
Feeling thus somewhat more human, she padded back into the bedroom, and with a quick glance at the still motionless Jaime, she moved round to the other side of the bed, took a deep breath and slipping off the robe, she climbed in, placing her back to him and trying to settle down again as if nothing had happened.
‘You broke your promise,’ rumbled a quiet voice in her ear.
‘What?!’ She swivelled abruptly in the bed. One green eye was open, watching her mischievously. ‘No I didn’t!’
‘Did so,’ he pouted. He opened the other eye and made a half-hearted attempt to glare. ‘You said you’d be here when I woke up. You weren’t.’
‘I – I wasn’t sure whether…. I mean, I didn’t think you meant…. I – I just went to the toilet, Jaime!’ she stammered, unsure whether he was actually annoyed or not.
‘Hmph,’ he grunted, closing his eyes again and throwing his arm around her while snuggling closer. ‘Well, I suppose I can allow that. Even if you did nearly give me a heart attack for a minute there. Come on, wench, make it up to me.’ He pursed his lips meaningfully in her direction. She hesitated for a second and then kissed him swiftly, smiling as relief started to flood through her veins. Jaime’s eyes flew open again. ‘And you’re minty!’ he protested in an affronted tone. ‘Now that’s just not fair, wench.’
‘Wh-why not?’
‘Because now I’m going to have morning breath and you’re not.’ He sniffed her. ‘Don’t tell me you had a shower or something as well.’
‘I just washed a little bit,’ she admitted, biting her lip with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t want to be all – y’know – stinky. And I hadn’t cleaned my teeth since yesterday morning, Jaime. It’s very bad for your gums, you know. Besides, I don’t believe you have morning breath.’
He rolled on top of her and breathed in her face. It smelled mildly sour but not unpleasant. ‘I can see,’ he began with a smirk, ‘that we still have work to do here. Number one: I repeat – just because I happen to have made a few films and appeared in a few thousand newspaper articles, I am still a normal human being with normal human bodily functions and normal human emotions. As such, I wake up just as “stinky” as the next person and feel just as self-conscious about it when trying to impress a new partner. You never used to treat me like I belong to some superhuman species. Stop it. Number two: most males – myself being no exception – happen to like their partner “stinky”, especially when that “stink” is the smell of their night of passionate lovemaking. It’s a primeval thing. Marking our territory, so to speak. Not very evolved of us, but there it is. Thirdly’ – he ground his stiff cock into her belly – ‘we also wake up with needs, wench. Now, tell me honestly, were you just peeing and brushing your teeth, or were you thinking of scarpering? Because if it’s the latter, we have to have a serious talk, right now. If not, can we fuck first and talk after?’
She took a deep breath, gazing up into his eyes, which were still hazy with sleep and desire but earnestly anxious.
‘I want to be here, Jaime,’ she said. ‘Well, maybe not here, in this hotel, exactly. But with you.’ He relaxed a little in her arms. ‘But I just – well, I know what you said last night, but... I mean, I didn’t want to assume you’d still want me here.’
His eyes blazed with something akin to anger and he gripped her head between his forearms, his fingers on her cheek.
‘Always assume that,’ he growled. ‘I always want you here. With me. Anywhere. Always. I can’t fucking exist without you, you stupid woman. Never think that again. Promise me.’ She gave a watery nod. ‘I love you, Brienne.’
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
She tugged him closer and kissed him, and he responded with a groan, plunging deep into her mouth before pulling away and muttering, ‘Minty,’ again with a playful scowl.
She pinched him and said shyly, ‘Anyway, I thought you wanted to talk after.’ She let his gaze follow hers to where the two condom packets, one empty and one full, rested side by side.
‘Ohhh, so that’s what you were up to, you saucy great wench,’ he grinned. ‘Right then.’ And with that, he dived beneath the covers and she shrieked as his tongue buried itself between her legs without further preamble.
It felt incredible, and within moments she was arching helplessly off the bed, borne on crested pinnacles of pleasure. It hadn’t taken Jaime very long to learn exactly what drove her to the edge and flying over it. As always, he continued to work her tenderly through the aftershocks until she relaxed and pulled him, moaning, towards her lips.
They kissed for an age, Jaime grinding relentlessly against her until he eventually detached himself from her mouth just long enough to grunt, ‘Condom? Please?’ in a desperate tone.
She grinned up at him and reached out for the bedside cabinet, but it was too far away, so instead she pushed him gently onto his back and watched him watch her, biting his lip, as she moved away to get the packet, open it and set about her task.
‘You’re very good at this,’ he murmured breathlessly with a cocky smile, as she sheathed him. ‘I feel sorry for all those poor guys with two hands who do this for themselves. Then again, I feel sorry for everyone who isn’t me, right this minute.’
She was aching for him again, drenched between the legs, but she paused to gaze down at him in wonder, caressing his face. ‘You should listen to yourself sometimes, Jaime Lannister. I can’t believe how far you’ve come.’
His grin spread wider and he gripped her bottom with his left hand. ‘I can’t believe how much I want to fucking come,’ he growled teasingly. ‘Hop on, wench, before I spontaneously combust.’
Breathless, she positioned herself and slowly slid down onto him, watching his jaw tighten with the effort of control. Their eyes locked as she began to move, experimenting with differing speeds of rises and falls and gentle rotations of her hips, to see what made Jaime grunt and mutter imprecations as much as to test out what felt best to her. They quickly found a rhythm which suited them both and surrendered to it enthusiastically, shouting each other’s names as even the supersize bed frame quivered under their frantic exertions. Jaime’s right arm was locked firmly around her hips, encouraging her as they sped up instinctively.
Brienne could feel the sensations mounting and was preparing to abandon herself to them entirely when Jaime’s cries grew more urgent and he abruptly reached between them, finding her nub. She screamed, her eyes flying sharply open for a second as pleasure stabbed through her. Even in the darkness it was obvious that Jaime was right on the edge, and it only took a couple more swift circles of his fingers to send her there too, arching backwards with a wild cry. Groaning gratefully, Jaime moved his hand to grip her hip and thrust up into her like a jack-knife, a wordless shout of exquisite relief and joy leaving his throat as she felt him release inside her, pulsing hotly and prolonging her own pleasure. Finally, unable to support herself any longer, she collapsed onto him and they lay holding each other, gasping and sweaty.
‘Oh my gods,’ she panted against his damp chest.
His hand came to rest heavily on the back of her head as his lips pressed softly against her forehead.
‘See what I mean,’ he rumbled as his breathing started to slow. ‘Gets better.’
She hummed in happy agreement and snuggled into him, but he was starting to soften and she reluctantly moved for long enough for them to adjust themselves. Then he clasped her tightly in his arms and kissed her as though his life depended on it.
‘You’re fucking wonderful,’ he said when he pulled away, gazing into her eyes. ‘And don’t you ever forget it. And you’ve got me, Brienne – hook, line and sinker. I’m yours. My heart’s yours, my cock is most definitely yours, and I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you. I swear it.’
She longed to believe him, but it was so overwhelming, she could hardly breathe. ‘The rest of your life’s a long time, Jaime,’ she whispered, her stomach quivering.
‘I certainly hope so,’ he murmured with a smile. He moved to kiss her again, but the quiver in her stomach had started to turn into a grumble, and finally into a loud and demanding growl. Jaime looked at it and laughed as she clapped a hand over it, mortified. ‘Trying to tell me something, wench?’ he chuckled.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I guess I haven’t eaten since before the show last night, apart from a couple of nibbles at the party. Neither have you. And it’s nearly eleven o’clock in the morning. Aren’t you hungry too?’
He grinned and leaned back, scratching his abs in a thoughtful, though distracting, manner.
‘Hmm, now you mention it, wench, I have worked up something of an appetite,’ he said with a wink. ‘I’ll order us some breakfast.’ She started to protest but he swung himself over her, though not without pausing to lick her breast while watching her salaciously, and transferred himself to the other side of the bed where he could reach the hotel phone handset. Picking it up, he deftly pressed a button with his little finger before raising it to his ear.
‘Oh yes, morning,’ he said into the receiver when a voice on the other end answered immediately. ‘Who’s that?... Oh yeah, hi, Hildy, I’m very well this morning, thanks.’ He winked at Brienne again and she blushed. ‘What’s that? … Oh, the show. Yes, yes, really well. Thanks for asking. Could we, um, I have some breakfast please?... What? … He did?... Ohhh, the breakfast meeting,’ he went on, rolling his eyes as Brienne frowned with incomprehension. Jaime gave a fake chuckle into the phone. ‘Yes, yes, must have completely slipped my mind. Did my brother by any chance mention what time…? … Oh, I see. Well, yes, I’m ready now. Thanks. Oh – Hildy? Did Tyrion…?... Right. Extra bacon… Extra coffee… Right…. Well, yes, acting is exhausting work.’ He rolled his eyes again. ‘Okay… okay, thanks, Hildy. Bye.’ He hung up and adjusted himself against the pillows, reaching for her. ‘I’m going to have to have serious words with my cheeky little shit of a brother, you know.’
‘Did he order breakfast for us but pretend it was for you and him? To protect us?’
Jaime ground his jaw. ‘Yes, yes, it’s all very thoughtful. He didn’t need to tell the kitchen that I’d been “exerting myself” and would need “extra fortification” though, did he? He’s loving this.’ At that moment there was a loud and insistent rapping on the main door to the suite. Jaime listened for a moment and then, groaning, pushed back the covers and got out of bed. ‘Talk of the Stranger. That’s him now.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘Know anyone else who knocks on a door at waist level?’ asked Jaime, retrieving the second white bathrobe from the closet and flinging it around himself. He moved back to the bed and leaned down to kiss her. ‘Stay there. I’ll get rid of him. He’s just come to snoop, the little perv.’
He stalked out of the bedroom and towards the main door. Brienne hesitated a moment and then got out of the bed too, picking up the robe from where she had dropped it and knotting the tie belt around her waist. She heard the suite door swing open.
‘What part of “Do Not Disturb” is unclear to you?’ greeted Jaime testily.
‘And good morning to you too, brother,’ came Tyrion’s cheerful voice, growing louder as he walked into the lounge. ‘Gods be good, it stinks in here! I take it congratulations are in order?’
Brienne edged closer to the bedroom doorway. Through the crack of the door she could see Tyrion wandering around the room. There was a sound which suggested that Jaime had flopped down on the chaise longue.
‘What do you want, Tyrion?’
‘I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour. Your phone’s off.’
‘Gosh,’ said Jaime sarcastically. ‘Anyone would think I, y’know, didn’t want to be disturbed.’
‘Now, now,’ said Tyrion amiably. ‘Far be it from me to interrupt your night and morning of delights without good reason. But you look as though you’ve been thoroughly and completely fucked – good morning, by the way, Brienne!’ he called suddenly, in a louder, mischievous voice before turning to address Jaime again – ‘and I needed to talk to you urgently. I took the liberty of ordering you both some breakfast. Hope you don’t mind.’ Brienne had felt herself turn scarlet, and was shuffling from foot to foot in the doorway. ‘Do come in, dear girl,’ added Tyrion without looking over his shoulder. ‘It’s not like I don’t know you’re here.’ He pretended to shield his eyes. ‘I won’t look, if you’re not decent.’
She swallowed hard and stepped into the room. ‘No, it’s okay, I’m… decent,’ she said boldly, jutting her chin.
Jaime growled, stood, and went to her. ‘Gods, Tyrion, you’re a shit.’
Tyrion swung around with a grin and looked her up and down with a delighted chuckle, taking in the way Jaime was looking anxiously into her face while wrapping his arm protectively around her. ‘Good morning, my dear. Well, well. I never thought I’d see the day.’
She blushed again. ‘Hello, Tyrion. Thanks for breakfast. And the room key. And… you know… everything.’
Tyrion waved his hand dismissively. ‘All in a good cause, my dear. Though next time, Jaime, do check your facts before I hand over my and Margaery’s entire night’s supply of contraceptives, there’s a good man. I had plans for the night, if you know what I mean, and was not best pleased to be thwarted. Strangely, in a hotel which purports to be able to cater to its guests’ every need, it is apparently impossible to procure condoms after midnight. An oversight on the management’s part, I feel.’
‘I’m sure you managed to improvise,’ said Jaime. ‘And again, why are you here?’
Tyrion’s grin became wolfish and he whipped out his phone from his pocket. ‘Reviews,’ he said with triumphant relish.
Jaime’s face blanched instantly. ‘Reviews? How bad are they?’
‘Bad??!’ repeated Tyrion, laughing. ‘My dear, idiotic brother. They are rave. Take a look.’
Jaime crossed to him and grabbed the phone, his lips moving as he slowly deciphered words on a series of tabs which Tyrion guided him through. Jaime’s eyes grew wider and wider, his smile spreading until he looked up at Brienne with a beam of disbelief.
‘Brienne!’ he exclaimed. ‘Look at this!’
Smiling at his obvious excitement, she took the phone from him and saw the headline “Brave Lannister in Triumphant Stage Comeback”, above a photo of Jaime taking his curtain call, framed in the doorway onto the set. His expression in the picture was stunned and euphoric.
Just after he told me he loved me for the first time, she thought.
She flicked through some more tabs and saw the same or a very similar photo several times, as well as one or two stills from the show, accompanied by a variety of cheesy headlines: “Kingslayer Slays Them in the Aisles”, “SCENE-SLAYA!” (that was the Daily Raven, of course), and the inevitable “The Importance of Being Jaime”.
A quick perusal of the content of the articles indicated that nobody had anything but good things to say about the show, with Olenna and Margaery’s performances coming in for special praise, and complimentary words for Ygritte. Each reviewer would then wax into several gushing paragraphs extolling Jaime’s acting, his stage presence, comic timing, and above all his courage in playing the part with his disability not only in plain sight, but fully incorporated into the role. Phrases such as “new lease of life”, “a man transformed”, “turning prejudices on their head” and “new era” and “silencing his critics” sprang out at her more than once. She flung her arms around his neck.
‘You’re amazing,’ she whispered against his ear. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘Couldn’t have done it without you,’ he whispered back, and kissed her fiercely.
A loud cough from Tyrion dragged them back to the world, and she looked down, embarrassed, to see him holding up his hand for his phone, an amused expression on his face. She handed it back but couldn’t bring herself to leave Jaime’s arms.
‘Much as I hate to postpone the epic celebratory fuck that you’re now both contemplating,’ Tyrion said equably, ‘there’s more. My phone has been ringing non-stop since about eight this morning when these were first posted. Everybody wants to talk to you. I’ve called a press conference.’
‘You’ve what?!’ protested Jaime. ‘When? Why?’
‘At twelve,’ said Tyrion with a glance at his watch. ‘That should give you enough time to eat, shower, and have a quickie, shouldn’t it? Maybe two? How’s his stamina, Brienne? Don’t worry, he’s had a long dry spell, he’ll improve. As for why, the lobby downstairs is full of reporters. I could hardly invite them up to this pheromonal cesspit, could I?’ He sniffed. ‘Mind if I open a window, brother?’
‘Only if you don’t mind me pushing you out of it, brother,’ growled Jaime in response. ‘I meant, what’s the point of a press conference? I did a show. It got good notices. So what?’
‘Oh good gods, don’t say you’ve discovered modesty too. Anyway, that’s not the point, no. I haven’t told you the best part yet. It’s not just journalists who’ve been calling me. It’s directors. With offers.’
There was a beat. ‘Directors?’ repeated Jaime. ‘What, theatre directors?’
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. ‘One or two. But mostly movie directors.’
‘Like who?’
‘Well, to name but a few – Mormont, Dondarrion…’
‘That fucking hippy!’ snorted Jaime.
‘And Doran fucking Martell. In person,’ Tyrion went on, ignoring the interruption. ‘It seems he’s willing to cast you as the hero and his arsehole son as the villain in his next project, rather than the other way around. Congratulations, brother. We did it. You’re back.’
There was a long pause. Brienne looked at Jaime anxiously. He rubbed his chin and sat back down on the chaise longue, his expression thoughtful.
Tyrion pushed his hands down into his pockets and stood in front of his brother, frowning. ‘What’s the matter? I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘How many of these calls have you had?’
‘Seven or eight. Some more concrete than others. All of them enthusiastic. All of them willing to “embrace your new image” as several assistants put it to me. It’s all good, I promise.’
Jaime looked up slowly, glancing swiftly at Brienne before meeting his brother’s concerned eyes. ‘And what do you expect me to do about this?’ he asked at last in a dull tone.
‘Well’ – Tyrion, for once, seemed almost lost for words. ‘What you usually do. Read the scripts, hate them all, rant at me for a while that they’re all bilge while I listen and nod sympathetically, then ask me which one I think will make the most money. Then you do the film, hate it, promote it, hate it some more, and move on to the next one. That is what you always do, right? Or what you used to do, before your hand, anyway. Like I said, we’re back. We turned it around, Jaime. This is what we wanted. Come on, seriously, what’s up?’
‘It’s what you wanted!’ exclaimed Jaime, flouncing off the sofa. ‘Do you even listen to yourself? I hate it! I’ve always fucking hated it! Why in the name of the Seven would I want to go back to that?’
‘Because it pays our bills?’
‘Oh fucking hells, Tyrion. We both have more than enough money for several lifetimes. What the fuck happened to artistic integrity?’
‘Um, you never had any. Not that I recall.’
‘Wrong. I had plenty. I just attempted to murder it, whilst dying quietly inside every single day.’
Tyrion spread his arms wide. ‘Well, boo-hoo, Jaime. I’m sorry. You have a press conference in about an hour, whether you like it or not. Please don’t start. I can’t handle one of your public displays of self-pity right now, not least because, on this rare occasion, it couldn’t be less warranted. Do have any idea how ungrateful you’re going to appear if you go off on one in front of the press today? So do me a favour – clean up, show up, and play fucking nice for once, or you’ll destroy your newly forged halo in less time than it takes to say “Daenerys Targaryen”.’
‘What?’
Tyrion looked shifty. ‘Well, there are those who are saying that the play was a publicity stunt to draw attention to yourself because of her new film.’
‘Oh, and me announcing how I’m “back” and going straight into a lead role for Doran Martell is going to dispel that perception how, exactly?’
‘Well, you’d better come up with something,’ said Tyrion irritably, looking at his watch again as the sound of a breakfast trolley trundled towards the door, cutlery rattling loudly as the unmistakable aroma of approaching bacon set Brienne’s stomach rumbling again. ‘May I remind you, you owe me three condoms’ worth of good behaviour. Brienne, talk some sense into him, would you, please? I’m off. I’ll see you downstairs in the conference room, Jaime.’
‘I want to be there,’ blurted Brienne. ‘At the press conference.’ Jaime looked at her in wonder. ‘I – I don’t mean up at the front with you, or anything,’ she clarified, blushing. ‘But just in the room somewhere. To support you. Can I?’
‘You’d do that?’ he asked, gazing at her lovingly and stroking her face.
‘Of course.’ She kissed him lightly and turned to Tyrion. ‘Is that possible? Please?’
‘Oh gods, is there a sick bucket in here?’ He sighed. ‘Fine. I’ve got a couple of spare, emergency press passes. I’ll give one to Marge and one to you and you can go in together. But you stand at the back, you keep quiet, and if anyone asks, you’re a freelance local reporter. Got it?’
‘I don’t lie,’ she said haughtily. Jaime smirked.
Tyrion rolled his eyes. ‘Seven give me strength. Well at least do me the favour of recording the whole thing on your phone. Don’t just stand there scowling, or mooning at him.’ He made the ‘I’m watching you’ signal and wagged his finger up at her. ‘Three condoms, Brienne,’ he said in a warning voice. ‘Never cross a man who didn’t get properly laid last night. I’m dangerous when I’m frustrated.’
There was a knock at the door. ‘Room service!’ said a voice.
‘Just a sec!’ called Jaime, and went into the office on the right, returning with a hundred dragon note, which he thrust at Tyrion with a grin. ‘There. Tip them for me. That’s for the extra bacon.’ He pulled an only mildly protesting Brienne by the hand towards the bedroom, winking. ‘I think we’re going to need it.’