This is a sort of "what if…." idea I had, set whilst Thomas is on the search for wife no.1. We saw so much in the film of Lucille being a jealous little potato that I really wanted to play with it being the other way round, whether you think that would happen or not. So here. Is total porns.

2.

They don't speak from the moment he abruptly turns to leave right up until they get back to the hotel. She follows him out of the ballroom in angry silence and they refuse to make eye contact as the carriage rattles down the cobbled streets. Occasionally he will look up when she is not looking, see how thinly pressed her lips are, how narrow her eyes, and his gaze falls back to his hands, trying not to twist them in his lap. She looks at him when he looks away, wanting him to feel the weight of scorn in her eyes.

"I can't," he says, as soon as they are alone. She follows him into his hotel room and stands in front of the door with her arms folded – "I can't do this".

"Yes," she says coldly. "You can". He notices she does not even sound like it pleases her. He shakes his head, not knowing what to say.

"What exactly –" she says, with a calm that worries him, pulling off her gloves as she speaks in a set of precise tense movements – "Is it you can't do? Attract a girl or marry one? It certainly seemed to me like you had your pick of any woman in the room."

"I can't – I'm not – I don't feel anything –not for any of them –"

"Good. At least that's something."

"But I couldn't – marry someone I don't –"

"Are you ill, Thomas? Have you lost the entire plan and purpose of this venture? You're not marrying for love and if I thought for one moment –" Lucille's lip twists in a sneer that goes all the way to her eyes – "I'd kill you both without a second thought."

"But I'd have to – there would be things I had to do – as a husband and I can't – not with –"

For the first time she smiles and her face almost relaxes, for a second at least;

"You do not have to. Besides you're lying. I saw how easily you flirted with half those girls tonight." She gives an injured sniff and turns her back on him, forcing him to come towards her, to come quietly and a little remorseful.

"Sister you know I –" he reaches out a hand, but she turns around quickly, knocking it aside.

"I don't know anything Thomas, until you show me! For god's sake, sometimes I think you should be the one in the dress! Maybe –" her voice changes, dangerously – "Maybe I should marry instead, hmm? Maybe you'd like to be the one to watch while I make love to some stranger –"

"No –" he whispers, looking up at her fully for the first time, a fire in his eyes that she smiles to see; she has been trying to light it ever since they got back. She smiles because she knows she's got him now.

"Maybe I should," she murmurs – "Maybe I should be the one to dance and smile and trade kisses to win a man's affection and fortune –"

"No," he states again, fiercely this time.

"I could. I know how to deal with men. Maybe I'd let them touch me like only you do. And of course I wouldn't have the options after marriage that you would, would you like that better brother? Would you?"

"No!" He growls it this time, grabbing her arm and pushing her back against the wall – "You're mine, nobody else touches you, not ever, you're mine."

She smiles triumphantly because she knows it, of course, she just wants to hear him say it; it is worth every moment of baiting him to make him respond in a way that actually scares her a little. He pins her to the wall with just one hand around her wrist, locking an arm around her neck to yank her face to his as if she ever wanted to move away, kissing her furiously, angrily, as though his claim really needs to be reasserted. She rubs his cock through his trousers, feeling it wickedly hard against her, wondering when that happened. He told her once he was never otherwise when she was anywhere nearby but she supposes that has to be an exaggeration and does not believe it. He hisses at her touch, fingers fumbling at her throat, impatient to get to her skin. Her clothes are always such a nightmare he is miserable with need by the time he gets them apart, sick with it, nuzzling, licking, biting at her throat and shoulders, dizzyingly nauseated at the thought of other hands than his on the soft pale skin.

"I'd kill them," he whispers, snarling it into her ear, "anyone so much as laid a hand on you I'd cut it off, butcher them and fuck you in the mess, again and again I'd fuck you - until you break."

"I don't break."

"Then I'd try harder."

He pushes her dress down around her waist and when he moves back to take off his shirt she wriggles out of it. He can never work out how she does that, shedding her clothes like a snake shedding skin. She carries a small sharp knife inside her corset which she uses now to cut open the laces at the front and he watches, hands working mechanically on his own clothes as he stares at her transfixed. She carries spare laces everywhere she goes. He watches her skin emerge, her breasts come free, and reaches for her so like a child that she almost laughs. But then he lifts her into his arms to carry her to the bed and it surprises her for the thousandth time that he can do this, remembering a time when she could pick him up. Now he looks down at her adoringly and just a little sad, and she reaches a hand to cup his face, to take the sadness away. He shakes his head;

"You will never let me just be good, will you?"

"Oh little brother –" she whispers taunting, into his ear, nails digging into his shoulders – "Dear, sweet little brother, you talk so hard about being good but you always call me sister when you want me – I've heard the sick things you say when you're inside me –"

He growls softly, slithering on top of her, crushing them together, hot skin against skin, sliding the full length of his cock against the wetness between her legs;

"Now," he insists. "I need to be inside you now, oh god sister you're so wet for me."

"You're so hard for me, fuck – put it in me brother, slam it in, destroy me –"

He gives a groan as he shoves into her that is almost a shout, her body taking him in so perfectly it is as though they were made for each other, and they worked out long ago that they were. Buried deep inside her, he can no longer keep a hold of any of those ideals to be good, cannot keep a grasp on anything beyond his cock in his sister's cunt. He thrusts and thrusts savagely, holding her by the hips hard enough to bruise, even now needing to be closer, knowing he could come in her in seconds whilst wanting to stay inside forever.

"And - " she carries on. "If I let someone else do this to me –" it is worth it – she knew it would be – worth it even if it were only to see the way his face contorts;

"Bitch," he slaps her- it is as much as he will ever really hurt her;

"I'd kill them –" he growls, almost hopelessly into her throat – "I'd kill you – fuck you until you were dead and still not stop, you're mine Lucille, only mine." He slams into her with almost feral brutality and her one hand strokes the back of his neck in a curiously comforting gesture whilst the other rakes scratches down his back. They both balance on an arc of perfection, shivering in the bliss of being together, crackling in bittersweet understanding that completion is close, wanting it and not wanting it to be over all at once. When it comes it is cataclysmic and the world shakes with trying not to scream. He slams his hand over her mouth and only this reminds him that he cannot scream either; that the hotel walls are thin, even if it is only her unused room on one side.

Afterwards he lies with his head nestled into her hip, his hand tracing spirals across her thigh.

"I'll do it," he says.

"I know," she replies.

"You shouldn't make me jealous like that."

"I will though."

He presses a kiss to the top of her leg, lips coming away wet from the both of them.

"I've made a terrible mess of you."

"Yes" she smiles. "You should clean that up."

He smiles against her skin and dips his head.

_x_

I don't know if Thomas would really get so jealous if their roles were reversed but I kinda think he would, I certainly want to think he would!

Also who heard that g.o.t moment where I almost had Lucille quote Cersei? I could almost hear her do "I should wear the armour – and you the dress". But then I remembered she said that to Robert not Jaime so it was a bit less relevant. :-) Ugh just imagine the Sharpe/ Lannister double date with those four – Lucille and Jaime high fiving and shouting "THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE". I'm sorry. I am ill, all my fandoms are bleeding together in a big incestuous heap. :-P