He looks into the one part of her that's honestly beautiful; her eyes, and sees a pool of sadness. He recognizes it, he knows it, and he wonders if she sees the same reflected in his.
Brienne trembles and chokes back a sob as Jaime's fingertips brush across her chapped lips. It's barely a whisper of a touch but she feels she won't be able to bare it. She isn't used to being touched, not like this, with tenderness and the promise of something more. He leans in, wets his lips before they slide against the scar of her cheek.
"Brienne," he exhales and her body shudders and enflames from the feel of his breath on her skin.
It doesn't happen the way he planned, his one hand makes him clumsy and he curses as he fumbles with her clothes. He wants the moment to be perfect, he knows she's a maid, knows she's never been held or kissed or loved and Jaime wants to give her these things and more. She deserves it. She deserves it for being the only good thing in a world gone bad. For reminding him of who he should be, of what he should be. For bringing his true self back to him.
"Damn it," he curses as his golden hand entangles in her tunic.
She presses a trembling hand against his chest. His heart beating hard against her palm.
"Let me," she says and steps back to remove her clothes.
She blushes as the cool night air hardens her nipples. She crosses her arms over them but Jaime pulls them apart.
"Don't hide," he says, "Not from me."
Brienne whimpers softly as Jaime's lips hover just above hers. He's hesitant to kiss her; afraid to admit he wants her. He's afraid to give his feelings over to a woman again. Cersei damaged him, broke his cocky confidence in a way that even losing his sword hand couldn't do. He lingers, his face close to hers but his eyes become suddenly vacant as his mind drifts towards his sister. He's no longer present in the moment.
Brienne waits. She waits for his kiss. She had waited a lifetime for someone like him, to care for her and want her, and now she's suddenly afraid Jaime has changed his mind, that he's realized she's just too ugly, too repulsive to be with. The thought of him rejecting her now, whilst she stands before him naked, fills Brienne with a terror she has never felt before, not even when the noose was tied around her neck. But before her knees can buckle with the weight of her anguish, Jaime shakes off the past and his lips finally brush against hers. He leaves them there, pressing ever so gently on her mouth, a simple meeting of two people yet meaning so much.
Brienne sobs again, a whimper across Jaime's lips. He swallows her cry, stifling it with more pressure from his mouth. It gives her enough confidence to relax her tense muscles, her hands travel up Jaime's back and to his arms, pulling him into her. He falls into her, desperate for the contact, the feel of her strength. It reassures him that there's something real to hold onto, Brienne of Tarth is real.
When their lips pull apart he gives her a soft smile and runs his left hand down her arm. He watches as her skin fills with goose bumps.
"Are you cold or just scared?" he asks her.
"A bit of both," she honestly replies, lowering her eyes to the ground as another blush flushes across her cheeks.
He lifts her chin and kisses her upturned face. It's a soft, slow kiss that seems to last a century. Jaime's tongue carefully parts her lips to taste her. She moans and clings to him, pulling at the top of Jaime's breeches, pushing her hips into his. He groans as his pelvis makes contact with Brienne's before he steps back.
She helps him lift his tunic over his head and watches as his body becomes exposed to her. She thinks back on the bath they shared. He was beautiful then but thin, his body weakened by confinement and fever. His body is strong now, the muscles in his arms flexing as he throws his shirt into a corner. Brienne gets a thrill as she watches. It's good to be with a man stronger than she is.
Brienne reaches out and places her palm over his heart again. She can feel the steady beats begin to quicken as her mouth makes contact with his skin. She kisses his neck, running her other hand over his taut stomach; he grabs her hand, lacing his fingers with hers before they dip any lower.
"Not so fast, greedy wench," he japes, "All in good time."
She frowns and he lets out a playful laugh before taking her lips in his again. This time its Brienne's tongue that comes out, rolling over his teeth and deep into his mouth. She tastes sweet and hungry and Jaime grows hard with every eager press of her body.
They kiss fervently now before they let go, panting for breath as Brienne rests her head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent. She waits for more and wonders if she's expected to do something.
"I," she begins before faltering.
"Yes?" he asks.
She furrows her brow, looks at her rather large feet, her undainty hands trembling in the dark.
"I," she begins again, "I want to please you but I don't know how."
Her admission is a squeak above a whisper but he hears her and understands. He runs his fingers through her straw coloured hair and lets them travel down her neck, across her breasts that are no more than pink nipples across a flat chest. They respond to his touch though, hardening even more, aching for Jaime's mouth on them. He obliges and takes one in, scraping his teeth across the delicate flesh. Brienne cries out, digging her nails into his golden head and arching her back. His left hand travels down to the course hairs at her crotch, parting her swollen sex lips and drenching them in her juices.
He wants so desperately to plunge into her but he resists afraid to hurt her, knowing her vulnerability. So instead he waits, lying them down gently on the course blanket, the tip of his cock at her opening. He leans on the stump of his right hand so his left can burry itself between them, their fingers rubbing her clit in little clockwise rotations. Brienne shuts her eyes tightly, her orgasm is building slowly but she doesn't understand. All she knows is the tension growing in the pit of her stomach. She's fighting it, her breathing laboured and her teeth clenched.
"It's okay Brienne," Jaime tells her and plants soft, wet kisses across her collar bone, "It's supposed to feel like this. It's okay to let go."
She lets out a scream and gasps for air as her climax reaches her. Her legs spread involuntarily as she grasps Jaime's shoulder, pulling him down onto her chest. He slides into her slowly; she feels every inch of his cock as it fights against her maidenhead. She tightens with the first stab of pain, her fingernails digging deep into his flesh. They'll leave bruises, he believes, but Jaime doesn't care. She feels so good, so tight, wet and hot that it's all he can think about. He presses his forehead to hers and they stay that way for a long time, joined but not moving, his greens eyes focused on her blue ones as they get used to being connected.
Who can say Brienne of Tarth is not truly beautiful at this moment? Her eyes sparkle and the flush of their coupling makes her skin glow in the moonlight. Jaime sighs and burrows his head in the crook of her neck as he begins to thrust in and out of her, building up speed as they race towards orgasm. He's fucking her hard now, forgetting the tenderness he started out with as Brienne moans and tries to find his rhythm. She bucks up clumsily to meet him. He steadies her, putting his hand on her hip and guiding her, showing her how to move with him to please them both.
She cries again, the release is so close now. She tugs his head down to hers, bites his bottom lip before screaming her orgasm down his throat.
"Spread your legs wider," he pants.
He needs to get deeper so he gets up on his knees, widens her legs so he can plunge in. Her maiden's blood is smudged on the inside of her thighs as he looks where their bodies meet.
"Brienne," he moans before falling back into her arms and spending himself inside her. She wraps herself around him, riding out their orgasms, waiting for the still that will follow.
"Jaime," she murmurs sadly, the tears springing back to her eyes.
"I know Brienne, I know," he says pulling her body into his own.
He rests her head on his chest the way he used to do with Cersei. How different this feels. There was no fear back then, he was so sure of himself and of the future and what a lie it had all been. He kisses the top of Brienne's head and tries to find that cocky, confidant man again.
"We'll find a way to make things right. We'll find Sansa Stark and make everything alright."
But all he can do is hold her tighter as they both tremble with doubt in the dark.