A/N: Sorry/Not Sorry; Sorry I've been remiss in updating; Not Sorry, this is 98% smut.

You let me fall apart without letting go

Brienne had never been forward about her desires. She served at others' pleasure, and put her life on the line for others well before she considered her own needs, except when she was alone. Being with Jaime had changed that. From that first night when he had claimed her mouth, her cunt, her body, she had learned that being adamant about what she wanted often got her so much more.

Being without him in her bed for two weeks, without his lips on her, without him moaning her name into her throat, without feeling his heart beat in time with hers as they crashed over wave after wave together, had all wound her so tightly that now she was frantic against him. Imagine months, she thought, or forever… it might have killed her.

She'd been foolish to ever think to let him go off without her and leave her with this need. And now he was stroking that need with his entire body pressed against her. His barest touch mixed with the heady reintroduction of his scent and just the feel of his breath on her neck could make her come undone. And come undone, she did.

The moment he curled his fingers into her, heel of his hand colliding with her clit, she threw her head back against the cot with a long-held bellow, and flooded his palm.

Jaime threw the covers from her panting glistening body and twisted himself down until he was on his knees next to her, his hips near her chest, his head between her thighs. He licked at her, slaking his thirst, and then teasing her clit with his teeth while his nose teased her folds. Aftershocks caused her to buck against him even as she reached for his hips with her trembling hands. She pulled at the ties easily and pushed the breeches down over his hips and past his ass.

As she palmed his warm cock, he moaned and bit her thighs hard enough to leave marks, and fervently enough to make her feel the fire building again in her center. She wouldn't be able to reach his length with her mouth the way he was hovering just now, but she was able to kiss and nibble at his hip as she stroked him. He jerked in her hand and pulled her clit between his lips again, causing her to let go of his bobbing cock and dig her rough nails into his leg with one hand, the other threading through his hair and tugging him up. She could feel her molten center rising, threatening to erupt again.

"Inside me. I need you. Now."

Jaime lifted his head and twisted again, his mouth leading the charge up the expanse of her abdomen, her chest, and finally her neck, kissing and biting every inch of skin he passed. He shifted until he had covered her body with his again, straddling one of her legs, his cock hard against her hip. She looked into his eyes, all but begging him, but he didn't move to take her - he just watched her face as she panted against him, his fingers whispering down her ribs. She reached between them and stroked him again, watching his neck tense as he struggled to keep some semblance of control.

"Brienne…" he warned.

She arched against his thigh between hers, "Please, Jaime...too long..."

The thought of Edmure and his wife flashed through Jaime's mind painfully. He bent and kissed her but kept his body separated from hers. "We can't," he whispered against her lips, then pressed his face to her shoulder.

Her breath hitched and she gripped him tighter and dragged her nails through his scalp as she pulled his head down. She whimpered his name as he sucked on her collarbone.

"We can't risk it," he finally mumbled into her chest. "I can't get a child on you while we're still fighting this war." He kissed her neck and reached down to loosened her hand from his cock, lacing their fingers together and pinning her hand to her side "I could risk my life, and you might risk yours, I cannot stop you... but a child… I could not…"

Tears were forming in his eyes and she tried to kiss them away, squirming against him, still craving the feel of him, urging him to comprehend her physical retort. He pressed his forehead to hers with a deep breath and let her hand go to try and still her hips, and she moved to take her nails up his back..

"Brienne," he moaned against her neck, "this is torture..." he looked into her eyes, losing himself, desperately trying to make for the shore, "If I take you now, I will not be able to stop myself... we both know that if I had my way, I would fill you so full you'd be dripping with me on tomorrow's march."

Brienne's eyes darkened with lust and she pawed at his chest, "But Jaime—"

"—but we cannot…" he was shaking her head, but she cupped his face to stop him, nodding with a conspiratorial grin.

"Sansa packed my bags, Jaime. The Lady of Winterfell is very generous… she made certain that I would be well prepared when I next bedded my lord husband." He stared at her agape, and ravenous, Edmure gone from the frenzy of his mind. She traced his jaw with her fingers before lowering her hand to swipe down his neck, and follow the wiry trail from his chest to his cock. "I want you, Jaime," she whispered, her voice husky at his neck, kissing the hollows of his throat, "Every night. The tea won't last forever, so we'll need to… get creative… eventually," she raised one eyebrow before lowering her hand to grasp his cock again. When she gripped him, he felt his stomach twinge and he bent down to lick and then nip at her neck while she continued. "But for tonight… tonight I intend to have all of you."

He took her mouth with a growl, his teeth pulling at her lips almost painfully sending warning shivers down her gut once again. He removed her hand again, pinning it tightly to the cot again before pulling his mouth from hers. "Keep on like that, wife, and you'll make quick work of me…" he shook his head, "too quick. The lady of Winterfell wouldn't want you wasting her gifts." Brienne shuddered at his fierceness and felt her pulse racing in her very walls.

He bent his head low and licked the tender undersides of her small breasts, the smallest crease where her salt was sweetest, drawing out a mirthful sigh as he tickled her skin. Then, smiling up at her, "I've missed your smile… your laugh…" he stroked one of her nipples with his thumb as her hand moved to his hip, "I remember the first time I heard it… sparring in King's Landing. And then I went ages without hearing it again… thought I might never-" she brought a hand up to his face, stroking his cheek, and he turned into it, peppering her palm with his lips, then kissing and drawing her thumb into his mouth lightly.

"I've missed you, Jaime."

He leaned into her hand again, then lowered his head once more and teased her nipples with the flat of his tongue, then moved lower again, unable to get enough of her. He finished removing his breeches, then pushed her knees up over his shoulders and flicked his tongue against her nub before dipping it into her wet heat once, twice, again and again, watching her body jolt as he tasted her again, her fingers sinking into his hair. She forced herself to watch him as he drank from her, and the look in her eyes made him unbearably hard.

He pulled his mouth from her with a wet sound and began slowly dragging his tongue back upwards, his arms wrapped around her strong legs, sliding his shoulders up the backs of her thighs, and then her knees. By the time his mouth reached her ribs, she was looking at him curiously, hungrily, and breathing heavily as if she were sitting on a precipice above a churning sea - dangerous and inviting and considering the plunge. He was bending her nearly in half as he climbed back up her body, finally gaining his knees while the fine hairs on her calves brushed his shoulders. She felt exposed, open, and completely possessed by him in a way that before she'd only felt in her heart.

"If I were less honorable," he said, lowering his hand to settle the tip of his cock against her, "I would steal away with you this night… straight to Gulltown, we'd get on the first ship to Tarth… I never wanted either of us anywhere near King's Landing… I swore I'd never look back and now… Brienne..." The head of his cock was poised at her entrance.

She reached up and touched his face. "The second we tell ourselves that hope is lost, we'll believe it." She dropped her arms and pressed them against the cot, attempting to push her hips toward him, to bring him into her." And our enemies will know that we believe it—" she broke off with a cry as he rewarded her efforts by pushing the head of his cock past her lips and pulling back, just teasing her entrance. She hissed and met his eyes, "I have no interest in losing you, any more than I have in haunting you, which you know I will do if I die in thisohgodsJaime…" He was unsure whether she meant the war or the way she was now beginning to stretch around him as he pushed a little further into her. "I will haunt you, Jaime Lannister," she panted, "wherever you go, I'll be there."

With a jolt and a cry of her name, he sank into her to the hilt, his body pushing her legs down until she thought she would break, her tapered ankles almost touching behind his neck. She gasped, eyes wide, hands seeking purchase against him, then dropping desperately to grip the cot instead. He'd never been so deep inside her, she was sure. He threw his head back, gripping her legs with a fierceness she'd seen him express in the battlefield but rarely beheld in their bed, and then he moved. This was no gentle reunion. And she was too far beyond already to consider slowing him down.

He was driving so deep and at such a frantic pace, their bodies responding to one another with such incendiary familiarity that Brienne quickly cried her release, her screams, he thought in passing, were like to wake theTully dead, but his name in her mouth only made him pound her harder, his torso slapping her thighs with every stroke. He couldn't stop. He could watch her come apart and wring him to ecstasy, forever, he thought.

But when she started stroking her own nipples and her eyes met his with lowered lids, his rhythm faltered and he felt his body tensing as if she were commanding him to unburden himself of every painful thought and memory left in him. He pushed himself against her hard, head bent, and she hooked her ankles behind his neck. When he cried her name it was as if he was calling to her from across all of Westeros. He gripped her tight and thrust twice more, feeling her ripple and come again as he poured his being into her, his arms dripping to hold her hips. Her own ecstasy made her lose control of her legs and they slipped from his shoulders, splaying to his sides as he nearly dropped his weight onto her, covering her with his body while their hips continued to twist against one another.

They panted into each other's shoulder neither knowing nor caring how long they laid there slick with sweat and lust and love. His limbs were finally limp, all of his anxieties evaporating from his skin. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. They were precisely where they needed to be.

After a while Brienne dragged her fingers up his sides and into his hair, and the imagined she felt his cock stir ever so slightly inside her. She smirked and tugged his hair, picking up his lolling head, and grinned before kissing him, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He knew he should climb off of her but the gods themselves could not have made him leave her embrace just then. She pulled back from his mouth and caught his eye, searching, her hips shifting under his. This time his cock definitely stirred, and she smiled widely as if she could read his mind. "My turn."

She rolled him onto his back with a grunt, and kissed across his jaw, her teeth raking the skin just below his ear. He cupped her hip and urged her to grind against him, but instead she slowly lifted herself up, removing his cock from her, covered in them and bit her lip when she saw that he was no longer completely soft. She moved down his body, kissing his skin, dragging her nose along the planes of his torso. He could only moan her name to encourage her on.

"I miss the taste of you," she said with a whisper, reaching down to clasp him, sticky, "the taste of us." His hips twitched involuntarily and she smirked at him with her wide mouth before pulling him into it.

He threw his head back but then found the strength to prop himself on his elbows to watch her. He loved the feel of her tongue on him, recalling how curious she'd been in those first few nights about what pleased him. His answer of "you" had been met with a withering glance and she'd kept her eyes on him while her fingers explored his length. He'd encouraged her eagerness then. He loved the way she pulled her wide lips together over the base of his cock. He loved the way she smiled with those astonishing eyes of hers while swirling her tongue around him. He loved her. More than life, more even than this. He loved her.

His felt the ache in his belly, felt her tongue hardening him, molding him to her desire. Her own desire mounting again, Brienne slowly removed him from her mouth and smoothed her hands along his sides as she climbed back up his body, his hand lost in her hair. She kissed a path up his chest and then straddled him again, her nails scraping his belly as she lowered herself onto him again with a delicious sigh. The feeling of her surrounding him felt like something powerful and ancient and sacred. She was like a goddess bending the elements to her whims. He imagined it was she who caused the very wind to pick up and rustle the walls of the tent as she rode him.

He raised his hips to meet hers and soon she was chanting his name, cries that began as prayer and ended a curse. He reached up to grip one of her breasts with his hand, but she batted it away, leaning back and shifting the angle of her hips, meeting his gaze, "Not there, my lord."

His eyes seemed to glaze over. He knew what she meant, what she wanted. What only he could give her, what he had never sought to deny her. She loved a part of him that no one else could, and loved it well. "As you wish my lady." He smirked at her, then moved his right wrist down to where their bodies met. She ground against it and sped up her hips, and both threw their heads back with eyes closed as she tightened around him.

But just as suddenly as she'd changed pace, Brienne froze with a gasp of alarm and Jaime's eyes snapped open to search out the cause, and in the shadows and muted light from the other tents the vision before him made his blood run cold. A shadow stood a Brienne's back. One cold glove pinned her right arm behind her, the other held the flash of a blade flat against the cream and pink column of her throat, her free hand gripping the man's wrist.

"No!" Jaime met her eyes, her face and neck still flushed with passion but her eyes now held fear and anger mixed with embarrassment. She was strong enough that she could have knocked the man's hand from her throat, but the dagger and her position over Jaime made that too dangerous. He shook his head once, barely moving at all, then forced himself to tear his eyes from hers to confront their attacker. Jaime's face darkened and his anger threatened to overtake his fear. "Don't…" and when the dagger didn't move at all, he begged, almost, Brienne thought, smirking at the shadow, "please."

The shadow slowly dragged the flat of the cold steel across her neck before unceremoniously shoving Brienne forward. She scrambled off of Jaime and pulled the discarded quilt up to her chest and would have dove under the cot for her sword, but Jaime pulled her toward him, checking her skin for injuries, his thumb stroking her cheek reassuringly, trying to retain some of what they'd just been robbed of, then turned toward the foot of the bed, nudging his shoulder protectively in front of her. The shadow glowered at them, the face in the darkness slowly slipping into an amused smirk of realization, pointing at them, from one to the other.

"You blonde toffs finally figured out you had compatible parts between your honorable legs, and now it's more than just fuckin, innit? About bloody time. Who knew Brienne of fucking Tarth was so—"

Jaime cut him off, staring him down cooly, nostrils flaring, "—that's Ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth."

Bronn's eyebrows skyrocketed and he reeled back a few steps with a genuine laugh. "Oh-ho that is news. My congratulations, Sers. Seems you've been busy in the North. Sorry I missed the festivities - though from what I hear, you lot are lucky to be alive, eh?" The sellsword moved around the bed to stand over Jaime. Brienne took the opportunity to reach below them beneath the cloth, her hand frantically searching for the lion hilt that she know laid within reach. "Knighted, wooed and wed… never thought I'd see the day. Well, I'm glad for ya."

He clapped a hand to Jaime's shoulder, a look of inelegant but honest friendship crossing his face.

"Shame I hafta kill ya."

A/N: I do not own Game of Throne or these characters; some dialogue may be taken verbatim from HBO's Game of Thrones or George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Lyrics used are directly from Halestorm's "Break In" (C) 2012.