.
.
Jaime wishes he had some of that piss-tasting ale, scraping the deadened gore off Widow's Wail.
It had been an entertaining night. Right before the horns sounded. He witnessed the clear, glittering tears slipping down Brienne's face.
Her vulnerability.
She stumbled clumsily over her words occasionally, hunkering down in a sphere of chairs, eyes darting from Jaime to Tormund Giantsbane beaming at her. His large, crooked teeth exposing through the thickness of his bright orange beard. He had the same merry expression on his face when Jaime knighted Brienne, clapping his hands, whistling.
Tormund speaks honestly, loud and with never-ending confidence, and Jaime admires that.
In a way.
He's not threatened by the likes of a wildling. Dare he say that Jaime rather finds Tormund intriguing, and how Brienne reacts so shyly around him. He's kissed one or two men, during feasts brimming with sweetwine and cider and Jaime's tourneys in his youth.
Men are all sudden, aggressive lust meant to overpower. Hands dampened with sweat and grim, wandering under Jaime's belted, gold-and-red armor, squeezing his arse until it reddened. For the most part, Jaime didn't mind being tossed around as long as he got off.
Brienne would kiss him lightly, he thinks. Careful, searching intent.
It's not an opportune moment to be fantasizing over her blush-pink lips, or Tormund's massive fingers stroking his cock, as Jaime surveys the damage to Winterfell. The endless piles of the undead on the horizon, their viscid, white-grey flesh shining.
"I'm fine," Brienne snaps, wincing.
Podrick tuts over her head-wound seeping blood, fetching a maester.
She pushes herself to her knees, groaning as Tormund supports her left side, gripping her arm. "You're the bravest knight and woman I've ever known," he murmurs, smiling childishly-wide. There's a few of the open, red-dripping cuts on his nose and brow.
Jaime comes to Brienne's right side, nodding respectfully and gazing at her countenance. "Ser," he whispers, Brienne's dark blue eyes widening. "Forgive me, but I must agree with that observation," Jaime adds, his bottom, split lip aching as he smiles. "You are the first of us to kill a White Walker general, woman or not. That was truly a sight to behold."
"After a long battle close to dying, you need a good strong drink," Tormund blurts out, moving forward and leading Brienne and Jaime to the tents. Jaime's mouth feels drier than before. He could really use that cold, red ale. "A good fucking is nice too…"
Brienne makes a sputtering, offended noise through her nostrils, gawking at the other man. Jaime smiles harder, chuckling.
"I believe that may be closer to a man's desires after battle…"
Tormund examines him, grunting and frowning.
"I like pussy better… but I suppose you'll do. As long as she's invited too," he says, Brienne's cheeks turning a pasty red. Jaime's eyebrows hitch up his forehead. That's not exactly what he meant… hells, alright, Jaime's willing enough.
First, a visit to the healers' tent, and then… he supposes further entertainment.
.
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GoT isn't mine. THIS IS MY NEW OT3. JAIME. I SAW JAIME INTO BOTH OF THEM. Requested by TheScubita (AO3): "Brienne/Tormund/Jaime; after battle, taking care of wounds, sexual content encouraged." MMMMM. THANKS FOR HUMORING ME WITH THE PROMPT BB. I LOVE IT. Any comments are so welcomed!
((Want a request for GoT? I'm doing 100-500 word drabbles of any ship + any prompt until S8 ends. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a ship and prompt, as well if you want NSFW or SFW. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))