Cersei
Cersei watched Jaime stalk away from her, stiff-legged and furious, his single fist clenched. Gods, aside from the one-fist thing, she thought, he's just so utterly fuckable. She picked herself off the floor, resisting the urge to rub her hand over her bruised bottom. She also had to resist the urge to jump up and down in a victory dance. The beast saw, she saw, she saw! Cersei had hoped for something like this, and the timing couldn't have been better.
She'd gotten word from her little hired spy that not only was Jaime on his way to the room he was inexplicably sharing with his repulsive pet, but said pet had just ridden into the Keep. Her first choice would have been to simply get Jaime into her room and seduce him, but making sure his loathsome companion saw them together looking like they'd just fucked was a victory in itself. She still wished she'd gotten Jaime into her bed. A little intensive sucking and fondling would surely get his cock back up where it needed to be.
Cersei felt excitement throb in her cunt just thinking of it. Jaime may have become all noble and chaste, but he was still the only one who had ever really satisfied her in bed. Sure, she'd had some fun in the meantime; she wasn't frigid, after all. She fondly remembered Osmund, who had lacked Jaime's finesse but still had a certain savage appeal when he fucked, and his overly large cock only added to the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure he'd brought to her bed. Ser Osney had lacked his brother's skills in the bed chamber, though Cersei had to admit to a certain eagerness to please on his part. Still, his lack of balls under torture from the High Septon's minions were proof he wasn't really man enough for her.
King Robert hardly bore thinking about. While she might have learned to forgive him for his small cock if he had been willing to learn any of the ways she liked to be pleased, he had only been interested in imagining the dead Stark girl. He probably would have fucked the girl's corpse if he'd been able. Cersei had often lain like a corpse under him as he labored away at her; maybe that was why he persisted in calling out 'Lyanna' when they fucked. Would he have eventually hit his precious Lyanna when she tired of his boorishness in bed or objected to all of the women he would eventually decide he needed to satisfy his persistent but puny cock? She had thought she would learn to love him once, but even if he hadn't been such a mean drunk, she had already been spoiled by Jaime.
Oh, Jaime. Cersei settled onto her bed and lay back to consider her next move. Not being able to get his cock up anymore was tragic, but could be remedied, unlike that hideous stump he had come back from the Riverlands with. How could he be so loyal to the woman who had been supposed to protect him, but allowed the Bloody Mummers to take one of the things that made him the man he had been? Between his hand and his cock, at least one thing might still be remedied. Cersei pulled her skirts up around her waist and touched herself, though she didn't delve into her slit yet.
She had almost forgotten what her latest lady maid had done to her thatch. Asking her to give her a Braavosi like the other maid had offered to do; this new girl had told Cersei she didn't know how to make that particular trim. The "Westerosi" was all the rage anyway, she had said, with its "King's Road." Cersei had readily agreed, since her cunt was, indeed the King's Road, if one thought about it. The maid, Kyrin her name was, had gotten the special wax and instructed Cersei to lay back and prepare for a little bit of pain. Knowing that the price of beauty was often pain, she had readily submitted to Kyrin's ministrations. The hot wax had burned on her tender skin, and the stinging and bleeding when the strips of cotton and wax had been removed had almost caused her to slap the maid. She couldn't afford to lose another one; Godfrey was sure to demand another "payment" should that happen. Having to satisfy herself with yelling and screaming alone were much less satisfying.
Once the procedure was over, Kyrin had proudly handed her a hand mirror to examine the results. If the girl had thought Cersei's language colorful before, her ears were surely burning after Cersei saw the results of her Westerosi.
"What in the seven hells is this?" she had shrieked, "Why does it look like a worm slithering down to my cunt? Is this some kind of joke, you incompetent slut?"
"M'lady," the girl had whimpered, "That's the King's Road, everyone knows the King's Road has lots of bends in it."
Next time Cersei would ask for a description first, but in the meantime she would have to either shave and go bare or wait until her hair grew out. Maybe the girl was right and this really was all the rage among the fashionable ladies of court. She wished she'd managed to get Jaime far enough into her chambers to see it. Unless his Boorish Beast had made his tongue limp as well.
Just thinking of getting Jaime to come in here so she could lift her skirts and show him that she had left off her smallclothes in anticipation of him was making her feel hot. If he hadn't pushed her down so quickly, and if he'd gotten hard and ready like she had expected, she might have lifted her skirts and had him fucking her against the wall outside when Beastly Brienne had come down the hall.
As it was, though, the woman had turned and run when she saw that Cersei had her hand in Jaime's breeches. Jaime hadn't seen her, and wouldn't know to go after her if that was what he would have wanted to do. Cersei still wondered if there was really anything between them. The Beast wasn't womanly enough to arouse a man, was she?
With a jolt, it occurred to Cersei to wonder if maybe Brienne wasn't a woman. That would explain a lot, she thought, her size, her strength, her small breasts, her ugliness…and then she remembered Jaime pressing her against the wall outside the Queen's Ballroom, looking for all the world like he was going to take her right there in front of the Seven and everyone else. The implications if the Beast were a man had Cersei's hand moving away from the wriggly line of hair leading down to her cunt. Gods, if Brienne were a man that would make Jaime…up for a threesome, maybe? Surely he still liked women as well, right? Her hand crept back down, and this time she slipped a finger between her folds and started to circle it just the way she liked.
If she couldn't convince Jaime, maybe she could convince his…whatever and he would go along with it. But again, what if she tried to seduce Beastly Brienne and it turned out that she was a woman after all? Well, Taena had been pretty pleased with her skills, hadn't she? Cersei withdrew her hand again and rested it on her stomach. She enjoyed having a woman share her bed, and though she had experimented with Taena it hadn't been what she had hoped for. There wasn't nearly enough power to be gained that way. She missed Taena, in a way. A shame she had fled before Cersei could involve Qyburn in disciplining her… counseling Cersei against rewarding Robert Strong for championing her had been overstepping her place and not to be tolerated.
Cersei was still curious about what Qyburn had endowed Strong with beneath his breeches. Alas, Strong had gone berserk and killed Qyburn not long after the battle to prove her innocence. The guards had been forced to set him afire before she could satisfy her curiosity. Knowing Qyburn it probably would have been something quite interesting, something he had carefully preserved for the purpose. Something damn near unstoppable.
Cersei sighed, fondly remembering a time when letting someone fuck her had usually gotten her everything she wanted. Why had everyone around her gotten so perverse?
There was a knock at her door and she sat up. It was not a timid knock, so perhaps it was Jaime coming back to finish what she'd started, to accept her offer to help with his difficulty. Cersei smoothed her skirts down and reached into her bodice to reposition her breasts, which more and more persisted in drifting out of position no matter what kind of boning was built into her clothing, and went to the door.
When she opened it Tyrion was standing there, looking up at her sternly. Cersei put a hand on her hip, "What do you want?" she asked.
"Hello to you as well, sweet sister," Tyrion said, sketching her a sarcastic bow, "I'm looking for Jaime, is he with you?"
No one had come to her seeking Jaime in a very long time. A rush of triumph flowed through her veins like a fine and potent wine, "He was, but he's gone now," she said, trying to recall how to arrange her face to look as though she'd just been well fucked. She was a little out of practice after the likes of Godfrey the Groan.
Tyrion was frowning, "What have you done, Cersei?" he asked. For a little man he did have a commanding voice, especially when he was angry or suspicious like he was now.
"Me? I have done nothing that concerns you, little brother," she said.
"Have you done something that concern's Jaime?" Tyrion asked impatiently.
He was angry, so he must have heard about what Beastly Brienne had seen. She let her satisfaction show, though she knew her victory was shallow, and would be until she could be sure she'd sundered Jaime from his creature and gotten him back under her spell.
"What Jaime and I do when we're alone is not your business, Tyrion." She smirked, "Now do waddle along. I don't know where Jaime is, but I doubt he's with his fantastically ugly pet just now."
Tyrion gave her a look that suggested he might be considering violence. What are you going to do, kick my shins, little brother? Surprisingly, he left without even his usual attempt to insult her, better and better, if he's too worried to even do that. Though why should he care if I ran Jaime's pet off?
Cersei closed her door and poured herself some wine. If all went well Jaime would be feeling the sting of rejection soon, making him all the easier to lure back to her. If not, well, there were other weapons a woman could use.
Loras
After Brienne left Loras quietly shut the door behind her. He looked into the big mirror over the dressing table, ruffling his curly hair and baring his teeth to check for stuck food. He quickly huffed out a breath on his wrist and then sniffed it, checking his breath. It smelled like old rum and sleep. He picked up the rum jar they'd carried from the dining hall and gulped some, swishing it around his mouth with a grimace. Better fresh rum than smelling like a passed-out drunk.
Which was probably how Dwayne would smell, but Loras had personal standards to adhere to. He sat on the little padded stool in front of the table, facing the bed. Dwayne was lying on his side with his back to him, snoring lightly. His auburn hair looked like aged copper in the candlelight, the bound tail of it lying in gentle waves over the pillow. Loras noticed a sprinkling of freckles dusting his shoulders and back and yearned to trace them with his fingertips.
Loras chuckled to himself over Brienne's advice to snuggle up to the big knight and let things happen. Things might or might not happen, but it surely wouldn't take long to find out if there was any point in hoping. Things were often more complicated where men and women were concerned. If Ser Jaime had been in love with a man there would have been none of this dance he and Brienne had been weaving around each other for the last few years. Loras was less sure of what would happen if they had both been women, but from what he had observed in such cases they would be sharing chambers immediately, with no one asking awkward questions.
Trying to stifle sudden laughter, Loras realized that was almost exactly what Jaime and Brienne had been doing, except there were nothing but questions and little actual sex that he could tell. They had been doing quite well together recently, though, until this mess with Cersei. Poor Jaime; the look on his face when he saw Brienne there in bed with Dwayne had nearly made Loras' heart break. If someone looked like that over him there was no question that he would take him back and never let him go. But this was Ser Jaime, which made it all the more sweet; that arrogant, misunderstood and incredibly, undeniably handsome man would make anyone swoon. Loras was glad that Brienne was so obviously in love with him as well.
When Jaime had come home to the Red Keep after losing his hand he'd been a mess. Perhaps other men didn't perceive his agony, but so few of them knew other men's hearts the way Loras did. Jaime had been a man shaken to the core, yet despite Tywin's demands and his sister's rejection, he had risen to the challenge of being Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and done his duty with honor.
Cersei had been a seeping poison in Jaime's life, before and after his maiming. Not just the need to hide their love, which Loras could relate to; but the imbalance of affection and power between them, even before Cersei's madness became evident.
Jaime and Loras became friends of a sort during those weeks while they were both still at the Keep. Jaime had talked to him about Brienne often, telling him of their journey with Cleos and praising her bravery and skill with a sword. Of his maiming and the time that followed, Jaime said little, except that he owed his life to her. The tale of the bear pit he related in great detail, Jaime not budging in his belief that Brienne could have killed the bear on her own, had she a sword with a sharp edge. His own part in jumping into the pit without a weapon was told modestly but humorously. Loras had found the tale enchanting and romantic. That Jaime could be in denial about his feelings for Brienne still made him shake his head. Even though he never admitted to his growing feelings for the girl, Loras knew then Jaime was a man falling in love.
Life was too uncertain to hold back when you loved somebody, and in those days when his own grief over Renly was so painful and raw, Loras was grateful for the time they'd had. He still missed Renly terribly, though he'd had other lovers since. Renly wouldn't have begrudged him that comfort.
When Loras had been burned at Dragonstone he had thought for a long time that he would die. It had given him comfort to think that he would be together with Renly again when he passed to the next world. But he hadn't died, though the pain of healing had made him want to. The oil that burned him had left a map of scars all over his body in spatters and rivulets of pale and puckered flesh. His chest had taken the worst of it, though his right arm and left thigh were marred as well.
It had taken a long time to accept the alteration to his appearance. He was the Knight of Flowers, once considered one of the most handsome and desirable men in the seven kingdoms. Even though his face had been spared, the first time he had allowed himself to be seen without his clothing had been terrifying. Like Brienne with the scars from Biter on her cheek, and Jaime with his lost sword hand, he had struggled to accept himself again. Needing others to accept him had become less and less important over time.
Loras stood up and took his tunic off. He would learn soon enough how Dwayne felt about his scars. Dwayne knew about what had happened at Dragonstone; they wouldn't be a surprise. Better to know his reaction to them before they became lovers. Loras quietly got on the bed and eased up against Dwayne's sleeping form.
Dwayne did not stir, and eventually Loras dared to drape an arm around his narrow waist and relax. Being this close to the man was arousing and a little intimidating. What would he think when he woke up and found Loras snuggled up next to him? He hadn't felt this strong an attraction to someone since Renly, though Dwayne and Renly were nothing alike. Dwayne was like a big playful puppy, not yet grown into his oversized feet. He had none of Renly's sophistication or regal bearing. His skill with a sword was impressive; he might have gotten by with less training considering his long reach, but he always strove to learn and improve. Loras was quicker, of course, and more experienced in battle. Both of them were competitive, and when they sparred it seemed to Loras that they moved well together.
He had heard from those who had witnessed it that seeing Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne spar was like watching a perfect dance. Their foot and sword-work so intricate, instinctive and fierce they seemed connected when they fought with or against each other. Loras looked forward to seeing that someday. He hoped in time he might have a sword partner as well suited to him as they were to each other. Despite their odd relationship, he sometimes envied them.
Loras matched his breathing to Dwayne's, eventually falling asleep. Several hours later when Loras awoke he was lying on his back. Dwayne was reclining on his side with his head propped on his fist, eyes roving over the scars on his chest. Loras watched his face, noticing the slight furrowing of Dwayne's brow, the downward turn of his full lips. When he noticed that Loras was awake he blushed and smiled sheepishly.
"I can't imagine the agony you must have been in," Dwayne said softly, his hand rising a little as though to reach out, and then settling back at his hip.
"It made me wish for the oblivion of death at the time," Loras said, turning onto his side as well, hoping that Dwayne would meet his eyes. At least he hadn't backed away or left the bed when he'd found Loras next to him.
"Where's Lady Brienne?" Dwayne asked, still avoiding his eyes.
"She left in the night. Ser Jaime came looking for her when she was passed out," Loras said, thinking, look at me, look me in the eye.
"I hope you sent him away. Where did she go?"Dwayne asked, finally risking a look at Loras' face.
"Jaime explained what happened. He claims he did nothing with Cersei." Loras said, trying to read Dwayne's gold and green eyes, which still would not settle on his own.
Dwayne made a disbelieving huff, "You don't believe him, do you?"
"I do." Loras said, "He would never do that to Brienne. I told her as much. Though he may have a little trouble getting over seeing her next to a handsome, taller man,"
Dwayne smiled a little and finally met his eyes, "Is that so?"
"It is," Loras said, daring to reach out and brush back a lock of Dwayne's hair. Dwayne blushed, his smile disappearing as he inhaled sharply.
"I didn't tell him I was sleeping between you and Brienne the whole time." Loras said, not moving his hand away from Dwayne's temple.
"Were you? That's why you were next to me when I woke up then." Dwayne said.
Relieved? Disappointed? "No, I saw Brienne on her way and then got back in bed. I hoped you wouldn't mind. It was late, and…"
"Oh," Dwayne said, his blush deepening. Loras risked a quick glance downward, receiving an answer to the question of whether Dwayne was attracted to him or not.
He spread his palm over Dwayne's cheek and leaned forward, tilting his head up until his lips were inches from the other man's.
"I, uh, I never…" Dwayne stuttered, looking into Loras' eyes.
"Then this will be your first," Loras said, and kissed him.
