Jaime and Brienne worked their way through the food and wine, talking and laughing. Brienne told Jaime what she had heard about Cersei dancing to the Stomp with the bard, and Jaime told Brienne about Hemikh's diversion with the crone at the door.
"You should have seen him, Wench, he walked right up to her, said something in Dothraki, and then he… well, he made a motion with his, um, his hips, at her,"
"His hips?" Brienne asked with a skeptical smile, "you mean like they do when dancing the Stomp and they bump hips?"
"No, not exactly," Jaime told her, "it was more of a thrust, really. He thrust at her and she –"
"He thrust at her? That sounds odd. How did he do that? Was that like the dance move?"
"A little like the dance move. He mimicked fucking, okay?" Jaime said, biting his lip as he smiled, watching for her reaction.
"Mimicked fucking." Brienne said, tilting her head. "I'm not getting a clear picture here, Jaime. How does one mimic fucking? Did he touch her when he did this?"
"No," Jaime said, beginning to catch on that she was teasing him. "He was standing in front of her and he made this movement."
"Show me," Brienne said.
"Show you?"
"Are you embarrassed to show me, Jaime?" she said, looking at him over the rim of her wine cup.
"Maybe." Jaime said, "I think it would just look silly if I did it."
"It would look silly or you would look silly?"
"Both." Jaime said, and took a drink of his wine. He set the cup on the table and picked up a dried apricot, popping it into his mouth.
Brienne watched him, her eyebrows raised. "Did Hemikh look embarrassed?" she asked.
"Of course not, Wench, he looked like he'd done it a thousand times before. You know how the Dothraki are."
"No," Brienne said, "how are they?"
"They fuck in public, Wench."
"Tell me he didn't try to fuck that woman out in the corridor," Brienne said with a laugh.
"No, he thrust at her once, she looked at him like he was mad, he thrust again and then held his hand out to her."
"And then what?"
"She put her hand in his and he led her to a supply room." Jaime shrugged.
"And then?" Brienne asked again.
"Then they fucked."
"How do you know?"
"I heard them, Brienne. Both of them."
"Hemikh must have been very persuasive." Brienne said, grinning. "What a shame you won't show me what he did, since I missed it."
"Getting interested in Dothrakis now, my lady?" Jaime asked, leaning across the bed until they were nearly nose to nose.
"Maybe," she said. "Probably. Could be I'm just intrigued by this magical move that had that woman following a stranger for a quick fuck amongst the mops and dust cloths," Brienne mused, "I'll never know, since you won't show me."
"If I show you, what will you do for me?" Jaime said, rubbing his nose against hers.
Brienne blushed, "Well, it won't be a quick fuck amongst the cleaning equipment," she said, "how about a kiss?"
Jaime leaned closer, his tongue swiping against her closed lips before he lightly pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. He sat back and smirked at her. "Nope. Looks like I can get one of those without making myself look the fool. What else you got?"
Brienne was struck momentarily speechless, suddenly shy, "You just stole that one." Brienne said, "How about if I kiss you?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," Jaime said, still grinning.
"Well, no," Brienne admitted, "I kissed you when we parted earlier in the evening."
"That's not what I meant," Jaime told her, "You've stolen more than one kiss from me before this, Wench." Jaime watched her blush at his mention of their previous drunken kisses. Now that she accepted he was courting her he wanted them both to stop pretending there had never been anything romantic between them.
"You are trying to embarrass me, Ser, and it's working," Brienne sighed, "But very well, I admit to having stolen a few kisses. My offer still stands: would you have an almost-sober kiss from me in exchange for showing me this intriguing Dothraki move?"
"Okay," Jaime said, "but I want a real kiss. I want you to kiss me like you do when you aren't afraid I'll remember it later and think it meantsomething." He felt his heart speed up, recalling what Brienne could be like when she stopped worrying long enough to let herself take what she wanted. He observed her changing expressions as she considered what he was asking of her. Was it too much, asking her to lower her guard with him so soon?
She nodded, agreeing with his terms, briefly meeting his eyes.
Jaime got off the bed and stood in front of her. "Come forward a little," he said, "as though you are sitting on a chair facing me." Brienne sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight, staring up at his face several inches above hers.
The light hearted teasing of moments ago was forgotten as Jaime moved closer and nudged her long legs apart, using his hand and stump to slide her silky nightgown up past her knees and over her thighs. He moved between her legs until he was pressed against her smallclothes and wrapped his left hand around her hip and his right forearm around her waist.
"I thought you said he didn't touch her," Brienne managed to say.
"He didn't." Jaime said and then slowly rocked into her. The firm muscle of his thigh ground against her through her smallclothes as he held her hips against him. He continued slowly thrusting against her, his cock hard and warm against her belly through the thin material of her nightgown.
Jaime watched her chest rise and fall as her breath caught on a sigh and her hands rose to hold his waist as he continued to rhythmically move his body against hers. Brienne's nipples tightened against the friction of his cotton shirt and the low neckline of her gown exposed the tops of her breasts to his view, her rosy areolas flushed with desire. Jaime wished he could take off their clothes and feel her against him. He groaned and felt himself swelling harder as he thought about finally being naked next to her. Barely managing to stay in control, he backed a few inches away from her, holding his body still with an effort.
Brienne looked up into his eyes, as dazed by passion as he was. She pulled him back to her, rising up until her mouth latched onto his. Her hands came up and tangled in his hair and she pulled him on top of her on the bed. Kissing him deeply, her tongue exploring his lips and teeth, moaning against him and rolling her hips, she opened her legs and cradled him against her core. Jaime thrust against her hard, once, twice, thrice, Brienne watched as his eyes squeezed shut and he gasped with the strength of his climax; his cock throbbed against her as he spent himself, panting out her name, drawing it out in a low, shuddering moan.
Jaime collapsed next to Brienne and she held him as he shivered with the intensity his release had left behind. Jaime couldn't remember the last time he had lost control like this, like an inexperienced boy. He nestled his face against Brienne's neck and she stroked his hair again and again, soothing and loving, murmuring his name softly.
It had never been thus with Cersei; nearly always he had barely slaked his desire before their thoughts turned to his needing to leave her chambers. Even if they had been able to take the time he knew that Cersei wouldn't have held him like this as his breathing steadied, as his soaring soul made its way back to his body. He felt a little ashamed for even thinking of Cersei as he lay next to Brienne.
Jaime kissed Brienne's throat, moving his lips up to her jaw, sucking on her earlobe. She turned her head to capture his lips with her own and Jaime pulled her onto his chest.
Jaime laughed a little, "I'm sorry, Wench, I tried to stop, but you -" but then he noticed that a tear had slipped down her cheek, the track of it barely glistening in the light. She closed her eyes and her lashes were wet with tears she hadn't let fall. "Oh, Brienne," Jaime said, stricken, "my sweetling, what have I done?"
Brienne opened her eyes, and Jaime was relieved to see the expression in them was not as sad as he'd feared.
"Sweetling?" she asked, amused.
Jaime reached up to push her hair away from her face, catching a strand that had stuck in the moisture left by the tear. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not. Not really," she said quietly, "it was only that single tear." She looked as though she was trying to gather her courage to explain how she felt to him, but the words did not come easily.
"Did I make you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have touched you like that, moved against you that way when you weren't ready." Jaime said miserably.
"Oh, Jaime, that isn't it," Brienne assured him. "I think it was just…watching you. Seeing you like that, gods, it's hard to explain, but hearing you call out my name, seeing you peak…" she sighed and laid her head against his chest. "I know it's silly, but it made me a little emotional, joyous, to see you like that. With me, because of me."
It took a moment for Jaime to figure out what to say; he might have flippantly replied that it had been pretty joyous for him as well, but he didn't want to spoil her revelation with a jest. Overwhelmed by her unexpected explanation, warmed and humbled by her generous heart, he held her tighter. He wanted to watch her unravel for him as well. He had imagined it so many times as he stroked his cock, needing and wanting her so badly, fantasizing about how hard he would make her come someday.
"I want to see you like that," Jaime told her, his throat closing on how much he wanted it, wondering if she would be willing to let him try. He felt Brienne stiffen in his arms, her desire warring with her modesty. It would be better to lead her into it, Jaime thought, rather than asking for her consent.
He began to stroke her back, kneading the strong muscles there, caressing her arms, her sides; he could feel it as she let herself relax. Jaime pulled her higher on his chest so he could reach the small of her back, massaging her and knuckling her spine before running his hand and stump over the flare of her hips, the rise of her ass. He found the pulse point in her neck with his lips and bit it lightly before sucking on her skin, slowly increasing the pressure, leaving his mark on her until she was squirming against him.
Jaime slid his hand beneath her smallclothes and spread his fingers across one firm cheek, squeezing it lightly, giving her a moment to accept that his hand was under her clothes. He moved his thumb down the seam of her bottom before pulling her against his growing arousal.
Jaime still felt the sticky moisture in his breeches from earlier and wished he could take them off; they made him feel like an adolescent boy who didn't have enough control to keep from getting off while he was still dressed. Much of this night was making him feel like an innocent cub as he tried to learn the only lover he'd had besides Cersei. Everything was different with Brienne; everything was new, despite his age and experience. He and Cersei had lost their virginity together, but Cersei had always known what she wanted, had always let him know how to please her.
Maybe someday Brienne would be able to tell him what excited her, but Jaime suspected she had yet to learn that herself. As he moved his lips over her collar bone and slid them lower down her chest the small sounds she made guided him. He used his body to roll her onto her back and cover her, supporting his weight on his forearms. Her nightgown was tangled up around her waist but she either didn't notice or didn't care as her beautiful eyes dreamily gazed into his.
Jaime badly wanted to whisper out his love for Brienne right then, as their souls lay bare to each other. Once before, unable to stop himself, he had told her he loved her; They had been drunk on rum as he kissed her and held her, but not so drunk he couldn't recognize the feeling welling up in his chest that needed expression: I love you… The words had echoed through his mind for weeks afterwards, tormenting him. The time had never seemed right for them out there in the bleak, black winter, knowing either of them could be dead and ash between one heartbeat and the next. So they had loved, quietly, desperately, neither daring to declare their feelings when there was already so much to lose.
Lowering his head with the intensity of his feeling, Jaime whispered silently against her cheek, her jaw, her neck: my Brienne, my love, Wench, mine..while moving his body down hers, finding the neckline of her gown and tracing the edge of lace there with a trembling finger before pushing the fabric down below her breasts, the sound of her sudden gasp making his cock throb. He drew a nipple into his mouth as he watched her face, saw her mouth open in a silent cry as her neck arched back and he began to suckle the erect little bud, pinching and rolling the other nipple between his fingers as his hips moved against her like he had done earlier.
Jaime moved off of her and hugged her to his side briefly before beginning to explore her body again, moving his stump and hand over her ribs, over the slope of her belly leading down to her low-cut smallclothes. His finger brushed over the hair peeking over the top of the fabric. With a glance to make sure Brienne wasn't going to stop him he slid his fingers under the cloth, feeling the soft wavy hair there, unfurling his fingers against it and easing them lower. He felt Brienne tense.
"Trust me," he said in a low voice, meeting her eyes.
Brienne nodded, swallowing thickly, "I trust you," she sighed, and stretched, her thighs rubbing together and then parting again slightly.
Jaime traced the seam of her cunt with one finger, rubbing against it from one end to the other, over and over, without dipping inside. Brienne's eyes fluttered closed and her breathing became shallow. The smell of her arousal was growing stronger, and Jaime knew as he pressed his thumb between the lips of her slit that she would be wet with the desire he'd awoken there. He moved his thumb against her clit for a moment, but was constrained by her smallclothes.
He got off of the bed and bent to use his hand and his teeth to pull the fabric down her thighs and off of her, indulging in a lingering look at her cunt as she lifted her head to watch him. He wanted to lower his head and kiss her there, to spread her thighs as he licked her and sucked her until she came against him. Not yet, he thought, someday soon, he promised himself, but his mind was galloping ahead; he imagined plunging his cock into her heat after he'd made her come, sliding past her swollen flesh and riding her until she came again with him inside her. Jaime groaned with need and rubbed his cock through his breeches. One thing at a time…
Laying back down beside Brienne, Jaime leaned over to kiss her as his hand covered her mound. He slid a finger into the wetness and began to rub it against her nub, firmly circling the flesh in a steady rhythm as Brienne's hips rose and she pushed her core against his hand, moaning into his mouth as her kisses became more ardent, as she sucked at his lips and tongue. Jaime could feel her heart racing, matching his own beat for beat until she broke their kiss to throw her head back and cry out Oh, Jaime…the same thing she had gasped out in her dream the night before, but leagues more intense, sounding almost broken as she shuddered with her climax.
Gathering her into his arms as she had done for him, he held her and stroked her and whispered his devotion into her hair. When she had ceased to tremble and relaxed into a boneless softness against him, Jaime pulled what blankets he could over them, wishing the tray their food had been on wasn't still on the bed. He thought about shoving it off with his foot, but the noise would have been too jarring. Instead he nudged it as far as he could to the edge of the bed.
After a while Brienne stirred and tugged at her nightgown, which was no longer covering any part of her that she thought it should. "You could just take it off, Wench," Jaime told her. Brienne smiled at him shyly and shook her head.
"You wouldn't have any spare sleep breeches I could borrow, would you?" Jaime asked her, "Mine are still a little wet." Brienne looked at him in puzzlement. So naïve, thought Jaime, but found himself at a loss for a way to explain without embarrassing them both. "You see, Wench, when a man peaks, his seed spurts…"
"Okay, okay, I understand!" Brienne said, raising a hand to stop him. One side of her mouth turned up as she caught him blushing. "I might have something you could wear," she told him, "but they may be a little long on you."
"Well, go get them, then," he told her.
She stretched languorously on the bed, smirking at him. "Gods, Jaime, I don't think my legs will work yet. They should be in the bottom drawer of the chest if you want them."
Jaime bit his lip, proud of the state he'd put her in, and got off the bed. First he tried to move the tray off the bed, but couldn't maneuver it without two hands.
"Here," Brienne told him, kneeling on the bed to grab the tray and set it in his arms to carry it. "And while you're up, we could use more wine."
"Yes, my lady," he said, with a pointed look at her as she lay back against the pillows, trying to smooth her gown. It was almost as good as having her naked, he thought, as his eyes roamed over the rosy circles of her breasts and the hair of her thatch against the cloth. She made to throw a pillow at him but then thought better of it, hugging it to herself instead.
Jaime set the tray down on the table and walked to the chest of drawers. He opened the bottom drawer and reached in looking for the breeches. The first thing he pulled out was the second nightgown Brienne had commissioned. He held it up, examining it against the candlelight. This one had a more shaped bodice than the one she was wearing, but it also was cut low and made from a fine soft material that he knew would hide little when she wore it. The gown was white with whorls of dark blue worked into the bodice in thin thread. Jaime raised an eyebrow at Brienne. "Who were you thinking of when you had these made, my lady?" he asked, "They hardly seem the type of thing the Maid of Tarth would think to take on the road with her."
Brienne blushed, but her eyes were bright as she watched him admire the nightgown. He continued to rummage in the drawer, finally coming up with a worn pair of breeches that were so threadbare that any form they might once have had relaxed into a softness not unlike the silk of her gowns. Jaime draped them over the chest and began to unlace his breeches, not missing how avidly Brienne was watching him. They rode low on his slim hips and he pulled at the laces with his single hand. Things like this always took longer since his maiming, but tonight he found going slow while Brienne watched him with her eyes still full of heat wasn't so bad. Jaime didn't turn away as he pushed the breeches down over his cock, half hard still, and pulled them off. His white shirt was long and fell to his upper thighs, but did little to hide the outline of his arousal. Brienne didn't look away as he had expected, and with a smirk he picked up the other breeches, trying to get the waist of them open so he could step into them.
"Jaime," Brienne said in a small, soft voice, "I…, um, it's okay if you just leave them off. If you think you can…control yourself." She seemed surprised at her own boldness, "Or do you think maybe I should put my smallclothes back on? I mean, you know we aren't going to…" she paused, blushing deeply, "…fuck. We're not going to fuck, right? It wouldn't be, it isn't.." she finally stuttered to a stop, looking at him, hoping he would rescue her from having to say more.
Folding the soft breeches lightly and putting them back in the drawer; he walked over to her and sat down on his side of the bed. He took her hand and held it. "No, Wench, we aren't going to fuck." He tried to look serious, but found their conversation too delightful and ended up smiling widely, his eyes dancing. "Not yet, not tonight. Somehow we've already gone from me trying to court you with an unwanted rose and a romantic meal to making each other behave like a couple of wanton teenagers." He raised his eyebrows at her, "Do you think you can wait? There is still courting to be done."
"Can I wait?" Brienne laughed, "I wasn't the one who took a simple request to show me what Hemikh did and turned it into a near-seduction."
"Only near, huh?" Jaime said, getting off the bed to retrieve the flagon of wine from the table. Brienne held out her cup for him to fill. "Seems to me it was more than near for both of us." He refilled his own cup and set the flagon on his side table.
Jaime got under the covers with her, gathering pillows to put against the headboard so that they could lean up against them. Brienne snuggled into his side and he wrapped his left arm around her shoulder, his hand playing with her hair.
"Did I tell you what the woman at the door told me when I came in tonight?" Brienne asked.
"No, we never got to that. You were too anxious for me to mimic fucking you."
"Jaime!" Brienne said, punching his leg with her fist.
"Ow! Okay, what did she say? Did she ask you about me again? Maybe you can tell her now that I look as good as I almost fuck." Jaime flinched, waiting for her to strike him again.
"This time she asked me if I knew why Dothraki men were called 'Horse Lords.'" Brienne looked up at Jaime, grinning wickedly.
"That sounds pretty tame. What did you tell her?"
"She told me. She said it's because they're 'hung like horses,'" she giggled.
Jaime lifted the blankets and pulled his shirt up a little. "Got me beat," he sighed dramatically, "though I've never thought to compare myself a horse before. Maybe you would prefer a Dothraki."
"She also told me they ride well," Brienne added around her smile.
"So you made me tell you Hemikh and the crone fucked and you already knew about it." Jaime said.
"She could have been referring to his horsemanship."
"Uh huh. Sometimes I think you're not as innocent as you seem," Jaime suggested.
"You have been a terrible influence on me, Jaime. I'm hardly the same girl I was when we met."
"True," he sighed, "I wish I could have spared you from most of what you went through when we were apart. Or even most of what we've gone through together."
"It wouldn't make nearly as interesting a song," Brienne mused. "Did you like the song, Jaime?"
"Brienne, I actually loved the song. I know it probably embarrassed you, but it felt so much like it was about us. I've been wondering who helped write it."
"Do you have any idea?" Brienne asked, "Tyrion and Loras both knew about it before the bard sang. Loras and Dwayne stopped and talked to me before I came to meet you here. Loras seemed to know an awful lot more about the bear pit than most people. Where do you think he heard about it?"
"I told Loras about the bear." Jaime said, "Not long after you left King's Landing with Oathkeeper. He was really the only person I could talk to about you, and he seemed interested in the story. But I don't think he had anything to do with the song," he paused, "I need to get my wine, Wench, I should have thought this out better," he said, waving his stump toward the side table.
Brienne crawled across him and retrieved his wine from the table and Jaime held his breath as she brushed against him. "So," he said conversationally, "is this Dwayne someone I need to worry about?"
"Dwayne? Worry about in what way?" Brienne asked.
"You know, about him wanting to court you as well? He seemed a little too interested in you, Wench. He is a lot closer to your age." Jaime's heart clenched a little, thinking about all of the other things Dwayne had going for him: height, property, a title, no crazy ex-lover that was also his sister.
"Oh, I don't know about that, Jaime. I haven't even sparred with him yet." Brienne was growing a little drowsy, and Jaime's questions didn't seem very relevant to her.
"You've been betrothed twice already, haven't you?" Jaime asked her.
"Three times." Brienne said, picking up her wine and taking a large swallow.
"Three? There was the old man you killed," Jaime started.
"I did not kill him," Brienne said with a chuckle, "I only broke a few of his old man bones and sent him on his way."
"And then there was Connington, when you were twelve; I bet you wish you had killed him."
"And missed the chance to hear you knocked his teeth out? No, but I did manage to beat him to the ground in a melee a few years later. That felt good." Brienne smiled, remembering how happy that had made her.
"So who else were you betrothed to?" Jaime said, trying to get to the point.
"Lord Bryen Caron's youngest son, when I was seven and he was ten," Brienne told him, "We met the once, and would have married before I ever got the chance to take up the sword. But he died a couple of years later of an illness that took his parents and sisters as well. My life would have been very different, I think, had he lived," she sighed, "I don't even remember his first name."
Jaime thought about Brienne being married and bedded at a young age, never taking up arms. Possibly chafing under the role of lady wife, or perhaps settling into it, content to be in charge of a household and bear children. "Do you regret that he died? Do you ever wish your life had taken a different path?" he asked her seriously.
"I would be lying if I told you I hadn't thought about it from time to time, especially when I first left Tarth and Lord Renly died in my arms, my sword as useless as cursing the gods would have been. Then when I failed to protect you from the Bloody Mummers, and when I left to seek Sansa and everything fell apart around me." She said quietly, and Jaime wrapped his arms around her and rocked her like a young child, feeling terrible for his part in all she had gone through. "And then, when this happened," she said, raising her hand to the puckered scar on her cheek, "it seemed I would die and never have any life at all."
Jaime felt his eyes prick with sorrow and guilt, for sending her on the quest that nearly killed her. He had been so foolish, not to recognize the vulnerable girl her staunch honor had hidden. She had been so strong, so fast, so capable. Yet so alone, he thought, when I should have been with her.
She continued, "I don't think that I was made to have an ordinary life, even if I had wanted to marry and have children. But," she said in a small voice, "I would never choose any of it over being by your side these last few years, Jaime."
Jaime felt his stomach turn over with an emotion so strong he could barely breathe. Oh, Wench, There's so much more we could have, if we live long enough.He took a deep breath, used his hand to turn her face toward him; "I love you." He said, and lowered his lips to hers.
