When they'd eaten their fill, and the rest of the pot roast had been put away, it was time for discussion of more practical things. Brienne sat sideways on the couch at Jaime's insistence, feet up and a plastic bag of snow wrapped in a dish towel and plopped on top of her ankle.
"We'll have to spend the night in front of the fire," Jaime declared. "While there's a certain charm to sleeping on the bearskin rug—" he flashed her a naughty grin, making her flush "—I've tried it, in the past, and it doesn't live up to the hype. So I suggest we drag the mattress from the bed out here and sleep on that."
Together, he left unsaid, but it was understood, the word hovering in the air as if he'd shouted it.
"I— I can sleep on the sofa," she stammered. "It's not far from the fire, with enough blankets—"
"You could," said Jaime, "but… fair warning: that's where Leo sleeps, so you'll have to fight him for it. And from one who knows: you'll lose. He kicks like a mule. You'll end up on the floor anyway."
"Ahaha. Okay." A fiery blush flowed, lava-hot, down her throat to her chest. "Well, uh… when? You're probably tired, and I know I am…"
"Yeah, might as well get to it." He stretched his arms over his head and a sliver of golden skin was revealed between the waistband of his sweatpants and the risen hem of his sweater. Brienne averted her eyes after one sizzling, lingering glance, but something told her he'd seen her look. "I can handle it alone. You should stay off that ankle."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, "…though I know you won't."
She stifled a grin. He knew her too well already. They shifted the chairs and coffee table back against the walls to create enough room for the king-size mattress by the fire. Then she limped after him to the bedroom, where they peeled the thick duvet off before wrestling the mattress off the bed frame and onto its side, sliding it along the floor until they could let it flop into place.
Jaime retrieved the duvet and with a flourish, flicked it into place. Brienne had fetched the pillows and, giving them each a thorough plumping, dropped one of them on one side, and the other on the opposite end.
"We can sleep head to foot…?" she said carefully.
Jaime gave her a look of what she could only term 'fond exasperation'. "Do you really think I'm so irresistible that you won't be able to control yourself if we both sleep with our heads at the same side?"
Yes. "Fine," she grumbled, snatching up the nearest pillow and tossing it in the direction of its mate. "There."
"You concede with such grace." He laughed. "But I'll go get more blankets so we don't have to share."
She only tossed him a glare. "I'm going to use the bathroom."
He waved a hand in its direction. "Be my guest. I'll put Leo out one last time."
Brienne changed into her flannel pajamas, splashed her face with frigid water and brushed her teeth, glad that the plumbing wasn't dependent on the generator to work. When she emerged, Jaime was just letting Leo back in. As soon as Jaime finished rubbing his fur dry with a towel, the dog leaped onto the sofa exactly as Jaime had said he would, sprawling with abandon over the leather upholstery.
Jaime disappeared into the bathroom, and Brienne went around dousing the lamps and lanterns until the only light remaining came from the hearth. At last, with no other excuses to delay, she went to the bed and lowered herself onto it. It was one of those extra-high-quality mattresses and every weary cell in her body sighed in relief as she lay back.
The pillow, too, was luxurious, as was the duvet, impossibly soft and smooth. The down soon warmed around her and she was snug and drowsy by the time Jaime joined her.
"Anything I should be warned about?" he asked lightly as he drew the blankets up around himself. "Do you snore like a truck engine? Are you a shameless snuggler? Is my virtue at risk?"
He didn't sound too bothered by any of those possibilities.
"No to all of those," she told him, her tone severe, but he only laughed.
"Pity," he said. "I could use a good snuggling."
But he didn't touch her, not even an accidental brush of the hand as they settled in. Even with two people of their considerable size, the bed was plenty wide enough to give them each their own space. Relief and disappointment warred within Brienne, but she was too tired to think much on it. Before long, she was asleep.
Movement against her had Brienne come awake all of a sudden. For a moment, she was disoriented— it was dark, only the dying fire to offer a faint bit of illumination, and something heavy was draped over half of her. A man, to be specific.
Sheer panic filled her, then determination, and she tensed in preparation to give the fight of her life… but then he gave a sleepy groan, probably in response to how rigid she'd gone under him, and with a start Brienne remembered.
The blizzard— the rental car— her ankle— the dog— the cabin— Jaime— the generator— the mattress before the hearth— oh.
Then she realized the full import of what she'd awoken to: Jaime with a thigh pressed between hers, arm around her waist and chest pressed to hers and face buried against her neck. He'd abandoned any pretense of sleeping on opposite sides of the mattress, abandoning his blankets to burrow beneath the duvet with her. It seemed Jaime really did want a snuggle and was not shy about making it happen.
Suddenly, any chill she had taken from the gust of cold air dissipated. Jaime hummed and rubbed the tip of his nose against her throat, leaving a little trail of fire in its wake, and just like that, Brienne was wet, the burgeoning attraction she'd felt upon first sight of him flaring into full-bore arousal.
So this is what it's like, she thought, not without some humor. To be this close to a man one genuinely wanted, instead of one she was settling for, because he was settling for her.
He smelled good, clean and musky, with an underlying scent of snow, and his hair was soft against her chin. She cautiously brought a hand to rest on the arm wrapped so snugly around her waist. The sleeve had rucked up while he slept, and his skin was warm on her fingertips, the dusting of hair making her them tingle.
But while it was enjoyable to lay there and bask in the experience, it was also supremely dissatisfying not to do anything else, and soon Brienne began to feel itchy and restless. There was no way she could fall asleep with him flopped onto her, so she either had to move or resign herself to steeping in a pool of her own frustration the remainder of the night. She was sure she and Leo could come to some compromise about sharing the sofa.
As she pondered her dilemma, he shifted again, his muscle-corded thigh rubbing up between her legs and sending a mind-blowing thrill of sensation spiraling through her.
She had to move. But how?
Slowly, slowly, she slid her leg out from between his, biting her lip when his thigh rubbed against her one last time. Then she waited, but he didn't stir; good. Next, she removed his arm from her waist, trying to tuck it close to his chest, but that meant it was close to her chest as well. He grumbled and twitched his wrist from her grasp to settle his palm right on her breast. Meager as it was, it was still exquisitely sensitive, and in her heightened state of horniness the touch was like a thunderbolt. She gasped.
Was it the sound? The sudden rising of her chest at the inhalation? Whatever it was, it woke Jaime. His head shifted on her shoulder and his hand tightened around her breast. His knee delved between her thighs once more, drawing another gasp, and then he lifted his head to look her in the face.
In the dim light, he looked unrealistically, improbably handsome. His mussed hair glinted golden from the flickering flames, tumbling around his face in a lion's mane. Shadows fell over his eyes, preventing her from seeing their expression. Was he disgusted? Appalled?
There was movement against her hip, not a lot, of something… shifting. Firming. He's getting hard. The knowledge of it made something clench deep within, and Brienne felt empty, hollow, hungry.
"So this can go two ways," Jaime said, his voice raspy from sleep. And something more. "We can just get up and dive into a snow bank outside and forget this ever happened."
Sounds cold, she thought with a tinge of panic. "Or?"
"Or we can give in to what we've wanted from the beginning and fuck each other stupid."
What we've wanted? He'd been attracted to her right away, as well? It didn't quite seem possible, except the proof was digging a hole into her pelvis at that very moment.
It was a bad idea. She'd only just met him. It would complicate things. Who knew how long she'd be stuck in this cabin with him? It could make a tense situation unbearable.
On the other hand, even if it tipped their dynamic into true unpleasantness, the pleasure gained might be worth it. She was more turned on than she'd ever been in her entire life and they hadn't even done anything yet, only press up against each other.
"That second one sounds like the way to go," she found herself saying, breathless, feeling impossibly daring and reckless.
"Oh, good," said Jaime, and kissed her.
He didn't waste much time on preliminaries or seductions, seeming to think that since she was a sure thing they weren't needed and… no, they weren't. She was very ready for him, so sensitive that she could feel her own heartbeat pounding between her legs. His tongue toyed with hers, his hand slid under her shirt to pinch her nipple, and another flush of heat coursed over her as she grew even more slick and ready for him to be inside her.
Which she hoped would be soon; his fingers on her nipple were beginning to make her feel frantic. Had her breasts always been so connected to her sexual reaction? Had she ever gotten so wild from their stimulation? It could be that neither of her prior lovers had ever paid much attention to them, but she thought it was more likely the current lover that was responsible. His fingers were strong and deft as he rolled and tugged on her nipple, making it swell and tighten, making her arch and writhe and whimper. It had never been like that with Hyle, even when he bothered to try.
"Gods, you're responsive," he breathed, his tone wondrous.
"More," she pleaded. "I want— I want—"
"What?" Jaime grabbed the hem of her pajama top and leaned off of her long enough to yank the garment off. "What do you want?"
"Everything," she whispered. "I want you to do everything to me."
He groaned. "Everything can be a lot of things. I don't know if you're ready for some of them."
"You'll make me ready." She undulated her hips against him, relishing the stroke of the hard ridge of his cock over the mound of her cunt, separated by layers of unwanted fabric, and how he groaned at the sensation.
"I think you're already pretty ready." Jaime lowered his mouth to the nipple he'd been tormenting, taking it between his lips, and Brienne keened at the sudden suction, at the wet lashing of his tongue against the swollen tip even as his hand began to twist and pull the other.
"Yes!" Her head swam, disbelief warring with greed— could it be possible? She was about to come after only a few minutes, and he hadn't even touched her below the waist. "I am. I'm ready. Please."
"Oh, I like when you beg me," he purred, sounding very satisfied but… also on the edge of losing control, himself.
It should have irked her, should have made her want to shove him away and maybe yell at him a bit. Instead, she only softened and melted against him further, offering herself up to his pleasures and whims.
"Yes," she ended up saying, softly, her need plain. "Please, Jaime."
"It would just be cruel to resist when you ask so nicely." He shifted off her only long enough to divest himself of his clothes, then yank off the rest of what she wore. "Shit. You look like— like a goddess or something," he marveled, propped on an elbow and staring down at the full display of her nudity. "I swear I've seen sculptures of you in a museum somewhere."
His erection has drawn all the blood from his head, she thought. He's hallucinating.
Besides, if anyone were a god, or god-adjacent, it was he: his body was the stuff of real, actual dreams, and his cock was like something from a porn film. It was long and so thick that even her big hand couldn't reach around it, with a flared, succulent head and a saucy upward curve that hinted at prime g-spot stimulation. She squeezed it and they moaned together when a thin stream of fluid coursed from him to trickle over her fingers.
"In me," she whispered. "I need that in me."
"Yesss," Jaime hissed, shifting between her legs before freezing. "Tell me you're on some form of birth control. And that you're clean."
"I'm on the shot," gasped Brienne as she wrapped her thighs around his narrow hips. "And I'm clean. Haven't had sex in a year."
"I haven't had sex in two years. I'm clean, too." He reached down to test the waters, as it were, and found them flowing a-plenty. "Gods, you're wet—"
He broke off to give her a ferocious kiss, hips rocking against her, before rearing back to position himself. "Ready?"
"I've been rea— oh! Oh! Yes! Jai— yes!"
He slipped into her effortlessly, and she devolved to incoherence. He felt better than anything else ever had, lodged so deep within her, so big and hard, and she lay there and trembled in shocked pleasure, until she realized he wasn't moving, either, was only trembling right along with her.
"I'm not going to be able to take this slow," he panted, his breath humid on her cheek.
"Good," was her response, and she didn't, she wanted him fast and hard and— he withdrew and thrust again, and she cried out in ecstasy. "Like that! Just like that, don't stop, don't—"
He fucked her, exactly as she wanted, without finesse or grace, quick and deep, making every nerve ending in her body quiver in delight. Brienne sank her blunt nails into the meat of his ass, using it as leverage to pull him even further inside as she bucked up to meet him. The stretch of her cunt around him was gorgeous and her head seemed like it was floating off her neck, blood pounding thickly through excited veins.
It was no time at all before she arched and writhed, legs spread as wide as they could go as she ground herself against him and wailed, the climax drawing her into a taut bow. Head back, star-blind, she cried out with every wave of sensation crashing over her.
Jaime thrashed against her, cock pummeling her cunt, shouting and incoherent as he came, hands hard as he gripped her, sure to leave bruises she'd relish the next day.
They lay there, gasping like landed trout, for long moments afterward. As the pleasure receded, eddying back, fatigue crept in. Brienne had had a hell of a day, and now a hell of a night, and exhaustion would show her no mercy. She was vaguely aware of Jaime slipping free of her to fall to his back at her side, of his chest heaving as he fought to regain lost breath, but could do little more than raise a hand in his direction, its weight making her drop it, limp, against his hip.
"Yeah," he agreed, sounded as shocked and weary as she was. "Yeah."
"Yeah," she mumbled back, and passed out.