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Thing is: he had been worried.
It probably sounds ridiculous, and maybe it is, and surely he shouldn’t have been worried about something he’s done with someone else for — his entire life, maybe, probably, he doesn’t even remember when they started anymore and he doesn’t know if he wants to — but Brienne isn’t his sister and before they had a chance to go beyond tentative kissing (and then not so tentative), he’s understood enough about what ideas she had about the specific act of bedding someone.
It’s probably telling that when she told him, in a thin, shaky voice, about her old septa, they had both shared a bottle of bad wine in this inn on the way to the Vale and they had both been half-drunk and he’s well-aware she wouldn’t have shared if she had been sober.
Then again, she turned out to be the kind of drunk who shares, and she told him, and since they left behind their backs the Brotherhood, Lady Stoneheart’s corpse and his own army, she hasn’t been as tight-laced as before.
She said that I’d be lucky if I found a man who’d be willing to give me a child without looking at me in the face, she had said.
Jaime had thought that if he had the septa in question in front of him he’d have paid her the same service he paid Ronnet Connington, and he had told her that, and Brienne actually had laughed, not much but it was there, and —
He just, he wanted it to be all the contrary. There’s not much he can offer her these days, not as his situation is (and their situation as a whole), but he’d like to think that he wouldn’t be that person, never mind that he likes looking at her, at those blue eyes that were full of tears when she apologized for having had to bring him to those bandits and meant it, at her long legs and toned arms and at how graceful she is as she roams Westeros looking every inch like the knight he always wanted to be, and so he had — he had been worried, but he had figured he could do that.
After all, as much as Cersei and Brienne couldn’t have been more different, he thinks he’s had enough experience to know how to please a woman and not make her feel like a commodity. It’s nothing that’s ever crossed his mind, honestly — every time he and Cersei shared a bed, he did make sure she knew how she was the only one for him and how he got off on pleasing her, and she never seemed to want for it, until —
He had worried about the hand, but then it turns out he hadn’t needed to, because Brienne hardly cares about that, and honestly, the way her eyes had gone even wider when he had started touching her cunt with his left hand while kissing her had made blood flow to his groin in a moment, and the way she had moaned and writhed and grasped at his hair when he put his mouth on her had been enough to make him do it for longer than he had planned to, and by the time he had moved away, he had made her come twice, just with his tongue (and maybe he had kept on with it because it implied not using the hand and he had wanted to be sure it wouldn’t be a problem), and she had been looking up at him like he had just walked out of one of those songs they both had loved in the same way and that had certainly done nothing to quell his enthusiasm. Not when she had kissed him back enthusiastically as he slowly, slowly entered her, and not when she had screamed his name as he fucked her even slower, and too bad he had to pull out just before coming inside her, but they can’t risk that now, can they, not when they have a red-haired maiden to find in order to keep their oath to a dead woman who’d have wanted them both killed before Brienne put an end to her misery. So he had pulled out and made her come with his fingers, again, and now that she’s lying on that small, uncomfortable inn bed as if it’s the most comfortable in existence and looking up at him like that again he knows he was worrying for nothing.
He definitely showed her, he thinks, and at that point he moves to relieve himself, because he really needs to come, and it’s not going to be long at this point but this was for her, really, and he doesn’t mind doing it as long as they can’t afford for her to risk being with child. But it’s fine, after all. It wouldn’t be the first or last time, and —
“Wait,” Brienne says, the moment she notices what he’s about to do.
“Well, a man has needs,” he jokes, but then she shakes her head.
“I don’t doubt that,” she says, “but — I could do it.”
That stops him — what?
“You don’t have to,” he says, not quite knowing how to take it, not when Cersei’s never done it except a couple of times, maybe, and never when she had come already.
“Maybe,” she goes on, “but — you did it for me.” She sounds earnest, for that matter. “It’s only right if I do it for you, isn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to,” she says, and for a moment she looks hurt, and —
Oh, fuck, if he hadn’t wanted to prove her septa wrong, he’s… doing just that, isn’t he?
He shakes his head, moves back to the bed and kisses her before she can get wrong ideas, and he does it long and hard and making sure his intentions are very clear.
“No,” he says, “I mean, it’s just, not how it’s always gone until now, so — never mind. It’s not you. Of — of course I want you to. If you want to, though, you don’t have to —”
“Jaime, you’re talking like it’s some kind of chore,” she says, shaking her head. “It didn’t seem to be one for you, was it?”
“No,” he answers immediately. “No, it could never be.”
“Then — there’s no reason why you should do it and not me.”
She looks so determined and earnest at the same time, it’s almost endearing, but it’s — such a thing she would do or say, he can’t help thinking that he really shouldn’t have expected any less.
“All right,” he says, leaning back on the bed as she moves away to leave him enough space — it’s barely large enough to hold the two of them if they press up against each other. “All right. Far from me to deny you anything, wench.”
She rolls her eyes, slightly, and then moves on the bed again, her knees around his thighs, and he can’t help noticing how it’s obvious that she wants to do this even if she’s figuring it out still. She’s flushing red, her whole cheek flaming, and the ruined one for different reasons, but her pretty blue eyes do look determined to go through with this.
“I just,” she says, “I’ve never done this —”
“Brienne, believe me, whatever you do won’t be wrong, I think,” he says, because while his hard-on has gone down a bit since they actually spent time talking and the momentum is gone, he still is plenty turned on and he’s sure it wouldn’t take her long to make him come.
“Fine,” she says, “but — gods, I’ve thought about this.”
“Oh, did you?”
“Maybe,” she confesses.
“Then I suppose I want to find out what did you think,” he says, hoping to put her more at ease.
She nods, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting —
But it wasn’t her moving down on top of him, slow, her mouth touching his own, slowly, carefully, her large, kiss-swollen lips meeting his almost reverently.
And it’s not an innocent kiss, for that matter. Not with how her tongue is slipping inside his mouth, touching his. But it’s careful, and she’s kissing him like it’s the most important thing in the world, and he doesn’t know why that’s — not what he had expected.
Has Cersei ever kissed me like that?
He can’t remember, but he doesn’t even want to think about it now, and so he doesn’t and kisses her back, except that she doesn’t let him turn this into something faster. No, she keeps it slow, and then she leaves his mouth and her lips move over his cheek, always soft, almost a feather-touch, and then she ghosts her way down his jaw and his neck, along his shoulder, her hands keeping his arms pressed to the bed, though not too strongly, before her fingers move to his chest and touch it almost reverently, and then he puts her mouth where her fingers had been, until she’s kissed all the way through it and she’s arrived at his stomach, her tongue running over a few scars that faded a long time ago, and fuck, fuck, he’s pretty sure Cersei never even touched them for that matter. Brienne is instead, her fingers almost reverently brushing against his sides, and he wants to tell her I’m not made of glass, but —
Isn’t she doing more or less what he has done before, except… gentler?
He doesn’t have time to think about it, because a moment later she has moved back, looking at his raging hard-on that’s become even worse in the meantime, and he doesn’t know what to expect —
“Can you sit?” She asks. “I mean, with your feet on the ground.”
He does, and a moment later she kneels in between his half-opened legs and —
The moment she tentatively takes the tip of his cock in her mouth he almost jerks forward and then doesn’t because no one wants to choke the first time they do this, he supposes, it’s not like he’s ever done it to a man, but then her hands move to his thighs, grabbing them firmly but without pushing too much, and then she licks along the head, swallows, and takes him in her mouth for real, not all but enough that if he started thrusting he’d pretty much fuck her throat, except he doesn’t and waits for her to do whatever it is she has in mind.
He doesn’t know what it says about him that the moment she finds a rhythm and realizes how to go at it and starts slowly, slowly sucking him off, he has to actively keep himself from making enough noise to be certainly heard downstairs, but — thing is, she obviously hasn’t done this before and she’s taking her time and trying it out, but she’s also doing it with intent, as if she really wants to get him off and wholeheartedly means it, and — he can try to not go there as much as he can but fact is, it was never anything that happened after things were done, not with Cersei, and honestly, he never even minded it but now that Brienne’s doing that as if she’ll make him come if it’s the last thing she ever does, he can only say her name over and over as his hands end up on her shoulders, and he does try to tell her he’s close but she ignores it, and her mouth is warm and wet when he comes with a jolt, and fuck but rather than leaning back she swallows, her rough fingers wrapping around what of his cock hadn’t fit in her mouth, and by the time he’s spent, she’s moved back and wiped at her mouth, breathing in deeply, and he’s about to thank her, except that then she looks up at him, stands and pushes him back on the bed, gently but — very firmly.
“Was that — good?” She asks, even if she sounds like she knows it was a fairly dumb question. He raises an eyebrow.
“Wench, are you really asking me that question, or have you lost your wits?”
“All right,” she says, strangely not trying to win this one discussion, “that wasn’t — never mind. It’s just… that wasn’t the — only thing I had thought of.”
“There’s more where that came from?” He laughs.
“What if there is?”
He swallows, suddenly realizing how serious she sounded, and how she’s looking down at him with those large, pretty blue eyes, absolutely intent, and —
“Do show me,” he says, his throat feeling dry. “If you want me to do anything —”
She shakes her head. “You’ve done everything until now, I think it’s my turn,” she says, and then she leans down again, kissing him, her hand going to his hair and grasping a few locks at the back, and he moans into it as she runs her tongue alongside his, and so what if her lips are too full for most other people? Sure as hell they feel good as they kiss his own and run along his neck again, one side and then the other, and thing is, he’s never —
It feels good, it feels great, but it also feels strange because he’s never — he’s never been in this position, he has never just lied down on the bed and let someone else do the work
(let Cersei do the work, but he wouldn’t even have known how to ask or that he could ask, he never even thought about it)
and just enjoyed it, except that now he is, and the way Brienne’s hands move over his ribs and sides and chest as if she’s committing to memory every damned muscle she can touch is driving him crazy, and he might not be as young as he once was anymore, but he can feel blood stirring in his groin as she goes lower, and lower, except that she’s not exactly paying attention to his cock right now — she’s more interested in running her tongue along a scar he’s had on his thigh since forever.
And it’s not that he hasn’t done it for her, he has, before, and he enjoyed it indeed, so it should only be logical that she’s enjoying it, too, but he can’t ever remember one time he started it or Cersei did but without asking him to do it to her, and not the contrary, and maybe he should think about it more, but then Brienne’s arm brushes against his right —
Ah, fuck, he thinks, moving the arm back — he managed to avoid contact before, figuring that she wouldn’t care for it and honestly, he was lucky enough that she was fine with looking at it, never mind wanting anything to do with it.
Except that then she reaches out and stops him, her hands going to his wrist, and for a moment she looks like she’s considering whether she should something or not —
And then she kneels so that her right hand is in between his legs and her left is grabbing his mauled wrist.
He’s about to ask her what she has in mind, but then it dies in her throat when she starts jerking him off just before slowly, slowly running her tongue over the stump of his right hand, looking down at him with the face of someone who’s absolutely not finding it a chore, actually someone who’s enjoying it fully, and at that point he doesn’t even think clearly anymore — he just knows that she’s jerked him off to the point where he’s hard again, even if not as much as before, and she’s kissed the scarred skin where his right hand used to be all the damned time while she was jerking him off, and then she has her thighs around his own and she’s sinking down on his cock and fuck, she’s running her fingers through his hair without tugging at it and canting her hips downwards and it’s — he never did it this way but it’s — so different, he doesn’t even know if he has words for it and so he says nothing except her name and harder and yes until she pulls off him just before he’s about to come and jerks him off all over again, her free arm going behind his shoulders and holding him up and right, she’s strong enough that she can do it without too much effort, and when he finally comes against her hand again his blood is boiling and it feels good beyond anything he might have imagined, it’s different from what it usually is, it’s better because she’s looking right at him as if she’s reveling in how much he’s enjoying it, and she rides him until he’s positively spent, her hands still running through his hair so gently, and when her mouth meets his as he comes down from it she’s kissing him surely but slowly, carefully, in the same way she moves the both of them back down on the bed a moment later.
He closes his eyes, needing to take a moment or ten, and he breathes in once, twice before opening them again and meeting hers, and — she looks half-smug and half like she really wants him to tell her if he liked it or whatever it is she’s worrying about.
Except —
Except that he feels loose in all the best ways, and he doesn’t have to rush out of the door, and he can afford to just lie on the mattress with her arm around his waist without worrying about anything else and he can’t help thinking, the first time he and Cersei fucked they were fifteen and now he’s almost five and thirty, and he never felt like this, it never felt so good, it never —
“Fuck,” he says, “what if I tell you that — I had no idea it could be like this?”
Brienne’s eyes go so wide it’d be almost funny, if it wasn’t about him.
“… I thought I was supposed to say that,” she finally answers after a long moment. “Or at least, that’s how it always goes in the songs. Or books. Well, the ones I was not supposed to read, according to my septa.”
“Your septa was a proper cunt,” Jaime says, and she doesn’t even deny it — good. “Anyway, I wasn’t lying. I really had no idea,” he goes on, and maybe it sounds slightly bitter because he can see she hears it.
“But — how?” She asks, cautiously. “If you want to tell, of course.”
You saved my life more than once and I jumped into a bear pit for you and we’re on our way to find Sansa Stark the way knights do in songs, which is what we both always dreamed of doing, and I wouldn’t tell you?, he doesn’t ask, knowing perfectly why she’d say that.
He figures he might as well own up to it.
“Nothing too absurd. I just, most of the time, it was — the way we did it in the beginning. It’s not that I never received, but — ah, well, I guess it’s high time I admit to myself it happened when she wanted something specific,” he says, hating how much it hurts to say it out loud. But — if that was how it used to go, he might as well be honest about it.
Brienne nods once, and thankfully she doesn’t press on it. “And — you’re saying, it was… better than…?”
“Brienne, you were there for it, I think it did show how much I liked it,” he says, and it comes out more serious than he had thought, but then her hand goes to his face, almost cradling it. Her cheeks are flushing red, her freckles standing out on her skin, her hair plastered to her forehead, and he moves slightly closer.
“So what — what if I told you that… I mean, I had no idea it could be like that either when you were doing it to me before, but, but, I think I liked it better just now?”
What?
“You mean —”
“It was — it was good when I was receiving,” she says, her cheeks still flushing so hard it’d almost be endearing, “but seeing you like that when I was doing it? That — that felt even better,” she finishes.
He grins, his hand going to her neck. “Does that mean that you’d do that again?”
“I could do it again now,” she says, smiling tentatively. “I mean, I barely know what I am doing, but if apparently I’m that good —”
“Wench, if we ever run into any of your previous suitors I’ll definitely tell them everything they’re missing.”
“Please, you’ll do no such thing,” she laughs, her fingers lacing with his.
“How about you stop me from it, then?” He says, showing her what he knows is his most charming grin, hoping it works, but a moment later she’s shaken her head and is on top of him again, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, and —
And it feels better than he had ever imagined, and fuck, he has no idea of what he’s doing here either, but he thinks he’ll love to find out same as she will, and so he kisses her back and doesn’t even try to switch their positions over.
No, he thinks he likes it better like this, after all.
End.