And so it had been for weeks now, almost every night: she would retire to her room once it got dark, and minutes later he would come casually strolling down the hallway, look to make sure no one was around to see, and then slip inside her door. And then they would revel in each other, exploring each other's bodies. His mouth caressed every corner of her, but especially that one spot in particular that always made her groan in delight. And then he would press inside her, deep and firm, and he knew how to move so that it was good for both of them. Slowly but surely, he began learning all the things she liked, the things that excited her and were sure to send her over the edge - and she learned too, about the different things she enjoyed, and the deep capacity her body had for pleasure.
One night, after he lifted his head from between her legs and she was positioning herself for him, he paused and drew himself up into a sitting position. "Want to try something new?" he asked. She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked at him, confused. He pointed to his arousal. "Do you want to get on top of me?"
She hesitated. Of course she wanted to try something new with him - I want to try everything with him, she thought - but she would be so exposed. Even now, after so many nights of him taking delight in her, after all the ways he flattered her, she was still worried about the way he viewed her body. She wasn't small and delicate like most other ladies - she was muscled and thick, and tall. Taller than him, even, by a little bit. The weight and size of her would be supremely noticeable if she were to climb on top of him and he were confronted with her entire self like that.
But he pulled her over to him, until she was kneeling next to him on the bed. Gently, he maneuvered her legs so she was positioned right over him. His mouth was pressed against her collarbone and he breathed into her skin, "I want you just like this." She wanted him like this too, she realized - that ache she felt when she needed him had returned, and she was slick with desire. Slowly she lowered herself down onto him until he was deep inside her, and he groaned. He ran his hands up and down the length of her, from her hair to her knees and all the way down her back, taking in every inch of her while she rode up and down on him, instinctively knowing how to move in a way that was delightful to them both.
His hand was on her face now, cupping it and turning her so that she was looking right at him. His other hand drifted downward, to where they were joined, and found that spot on her that was always so sensitive when he was with her. His hand stroked in time with her movements and she was rapidly losing control, her face reflecting all the sensations she was feeling. Still he looked straight into her eyes, grinning, and then he began to groan himself. When she reached her peak, throwing her head back and crying out, he was right there with her, holding her hips firmly down on him as he pressed deep into her and growled out his all-consuming pleasure.
This time she was the one flopping down in her bed, spent from the effort. He lay down next to her, trailing one finger along her side. "You looked beautiful like that, Brienne," he said as she closed her eyes. And so they began incorporating that into their nightly routine.
Outside of the two of them, however, no one at Winterfell knew about their coupling. There was an unacknowledged agreement between them to keep this to themselves, though they couldn't quite articulate why. Perhaps it was because they and the Starks had much more pressing matters on their mind, what with the fighting and the dangerous alliances throughout the Seven Kingdoms and the fact that Jon was now focusing his energy on finding Bran. Perhaps it was Brienne's reluctance to be seen as anything other than a capable knight fulfilling her duties to Lady Catelyn Stark to the end, and her fear that others would find only cruel amusement at the thought of a woman like her paired off. Perhaps it was just Tormund's quiet stoicism around anything other than battle.
Whatever it was, the two acted like distant acquaintances throughout the rest of the castle, muttering, "Please pass the bread" to each other at meals and barely looking up when one or the other sat down in a group to strategize with Jon. No one knew, and they were hiding it very well - although Tormund could become very daring when he thought no one was looking.
One evening, for example, when she arrived late to supper and nearly everyone was leaving the table as she was sitting down, he lingered for a moment as the others left the room. As he passed her on the way to the door, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'll have you moaning before long." She was almost instantly wet and aching between her legs, and that sensation stayed with her right up until he came to her room several hours later. Another time, she and he and several others were gathered in a circle around Jon and a map as he traced routes through the North and tried to figure out their next moves. Tormund had somehow maneuvered so that he was right next to her, and while all the others were distracted and poring over the map, he managed to reach his arm out and grab her from behind, fondling her for several seconds while no one else was looking. She turned to glance at him sideways and he gave her a sly grin.
And then once, in the middle of the day, she had been in the stables with Pod tending to their horses when Tormund walked in, muttering something about needing hay. Pod had generously supplied him with some and then walked around to the back of one of the stalls to feed his horse. The minute he was out of sight, Tormund had swiftly and deftly slid one of his hands down the front of her britches and found that spot that always made her quiver. With Pod still intent on his work, Tormund had stroked her for close to a minute, with her biting her lip the whole time and bracing herself against him to keep from losing all control. Finally she couldn't help it and a small moan escaped from her lips. Pod's head appeared a few seconds later from around the side of the stall, quizzical and concerned, but by that time Tormund had pulled his hand back and was quietly bundling up the hay. "It's nothing, Pod," Brienne said. "I just … tripped on the wet floor here." Tormund looked at her over the top of his hay bundle, his eyes dancing, and slipped away.
All in all, she liked it this way. She had a secret - a wonderful, delicious, delightful secret. She was getting so much pleasure every night, and no one knew. No one knew that she had this Wilding in her bed, night after night after night. She could sit astride her horse, or train out in the fields with her sword, and let her mind drift to everything they had done together, and no one was the wiser. She was no longer so one-dimensional, just an unladylike woman wielding a sword and burying her thick, strong body under armor. She had passion and pleasure in her life, and a man who seemed to want her just the way she was.