Brienne and Jaime insisted that Bran didn't need to put an end to his visit around King's Landing, and he agreed, but he ordered them both to return to the Red Keep so Jaime could be examined by the maester, and Brienne's task was to make sure that her comrade arrived at the castle in one piece and had someone to keep an eye on him. After his accident with the stray horse, he shouldn't be on his own at least for a few hours, in case any of his contusions turned out to be more serious than they believed.
Neither of the two protested at their king's concern, not even Brienne for once. They held hands all the way to the keep, and Brienne couldn't care less that some people looked at them and turned to others to gossip about them. Let the tale about the lovers of the Kingsguard spread.
Jaime complained that he didn't need the maester, and that her personal care would be enough to heal him, lifting his eyebrows suggestively, but she shook her head and insisted. It was so difficult to keep focused when he got into a playful mood, especially when his ardent eyes burned her and his naughty hand wandered to her ass, though there was not much he could fondle with her armor and leather protections on. "I've missed this magnificent, round one back here," he whispered against her ear, and she swatted his hand. It was one thing to openly show their love, but she wouldn't step beyond the limits of propriety in front of the population of the capital.
A mix of desire and embarrassment warred within her, and she hurried the both of them to the castle. It was so typical of Jaime to make her melt and irk her at the same time.
How she'd missed all that, the way they complemented each other so well. He encouraged her to enjoy much more the pleasures of life, while she encouraged him to focus more on the serious things. At least she didn't have to worry about him not taking seriously his duties in the Kingsguard, because he loved his position and was perfectly happy guarding Bran under her command.
They reached the keep and she firmly led Jaime to the maester's study, before the rascal started to get too playful and tried to distract her from her purpose of having him properly examined.
"Brienne, I'm afraid I have a bit of a... predicament down there. What's the maester going to think when he sees my... sword raised?," he objected in a whiny tone.
Brienne rolled her eyes, suppressing her impulse to giggle at his antics. "Then you better put your sword down then before we reach his study," she warned.
"That's easier said than done. If you were me and you had the woman of your dreams next to you, your sword would be at the ready at all times, I assure you," he complained.
A wave of intense warmth spread through her at his greatly sweet and beautiful admission mixed with his mischief. "Oh, shut up and come on." But he undoubtedly caught her delighted blush and secret smile, as she saw his satisfied smirk.
The maester confirmed that Jaime hadn't been inflicted serious damage, and had given him some salve for his bruises and contusions. As stubborn as ever, he'd refused to accept the medicine, but Brienne cut him off and took the jar from the maester's hand, thanking him.
"Well, I'll be more amenable to accepting the remedy if you apply it to my injuries," he proposed when they'd stepped into the hallway. His pieces of armor, which had been removed from him so the maester could take a look at his body, would be sent to the White Sword Tower by a servant later.
Brienne was about to give him a shove in irritation when she remembered that she shouldn't manhandle him in his current condition. "What, are you blackmailing me now?"
"Oh, come on. Remember Harrenhal. If I refused to accept milk of the poppy when I'd just lost my hand and I was half dead with fever and pain, you think I'd give a damn about some gunk for a couple of bruises? But I would be very glad for you to graciously offer yourself to help me with it. Besides, we'll both enjoy it a lot, you'll see," he tempted her.
She shook her head in defeat. "All right, I'll do it. Has anyone ever told you that you're terribly annoying?"
"Lots of times. Mostly you, if I recall correctly, though I think that the line of complainers would be quite long," he surmised cheekily.
"Seven, please, give me patience," she muttered, raising her eyes to the ceiling as if she could find the deities up there.
He smirked again and she sped up their pace toward the White Sword Tower.
They entered his chamber. "Sit down," she ordered.
"I'll help you with your armor as well. Just in case it gets in the way, you know," he offered.
She snorted, but didn't reject his offering.
It was so intimate to watch him help remove her armor. Their eyes kept locked the entire time and she could feel the heat radiating from him. Their breaths were more ragged by the time they finished their task.
Gods, it was all so erotic that she ignored if she would manage not to jump him right then and there.
Focus, she chastised herself.
She pulled his shirt up his raised arms and discarded it. His sculpted torso was a feast to her eyes, as always. She'd already seen, in the maester's examination room, the angry bruises that were scattered over Jaime's golden skin, and they didn't fail to move her. He'd thrown himself in the path of a wild horse to save her. Her brave, reckless, maddening, wonderful Jaime.
She loved him so much that she nearly burst. She reached for the jar of salve with slightly trembling hands, and opened it. The pungent odor assaulted her nose, and both of them grimaced at the smell.
"Ugh. This is almost enough to kill the mood," he teased.
"Shut up," she commanded.
Jaime complied with his usual mischievous glint and kept silent as Brienne started to apply the substance. He hissed a bit when she rubbed his sorest areas.
"I didn't take you for such a whiner. I'm hardly putting any pressure on your contusions," she reprimanded.
"Well, my contusions seem to think otherwise. Here, like this," he said, guiding her hand over his skin and correcting her motions. "Oh, yes. Much better," he groaned, closing his eyes.
She could see clearly his erection beneath his pants and felt herself getting wet between her legs.
Then, before she had time to blink, he grabbed her by her waist and made her straddle him on the edge of the bed where he was sitting. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support and his hardness pressed against her sensitive core, making her moan.
He kissed her fiercely and she responded with equal passion, devouring his mouth.
Gods, how she'd yearned for resuming that intimacy with him. It was even better now, with no barriers between them, without Cersei's shadow looming on the horizon.
She rocked against him, making him groan loudly. "Jaime, I need you inside of me now," she pleaded.
"Oh, yes," he agreed eagerly. "I need to be inside of you too. It's been so long." He helped her get rid of her remaining garments and pushed his pants down, freeing his stiff cock. They both groaned as she grabbed his shaft and he sucked her nipples as if he was dying of thirst. He also caressed her slightly protruding belly with his hand. "I've missed you so much, Brienne. And I'm so happy that you're carrying our little one," he murmured, looking deeply into her eyes.
She placed his cock at her entrance and slid down until her insides engulfed it entirely, revelling in his thickness filling her. "I've missed you too, Jaime." They shivered at their most intimate flesh joining together at last after months apart.
She began to move up and down and he met her every time, thrusting against her. He placed his hand on the spot where their bodies merged and his fingers rubbed her clit with familiar expertise. He knew exactly how she liked it and she shuddered as the frenzy of lust washed over her.
They kissed deeply while chasing their shared pleasure, which she could already taste in the change in their breathing, in the tremors of their bodies, in the urgency with which flesh met flesh, in the abandon of their mutual surrender.
She felt herself flying up the precipice and cried out, as he throbbed and filled her, moaning her name against her breast as if he was saying a prayer.
They progressively stopped their movements and she remained wrapped around him, still feeling the aftershocks of their orgasm. His seed was flooding her womb, that seed that had taken root months earlier and created their baby.
The stickiness and awful smell of the healing salve which was still coating his bruises hit her senses and she laughed, wrinkling her nose. Fortunately, she hadn't suffered morning sickness in weeks. "Geez, Jaime. You were right. This is almost enough to kill the mood," she quipped, showing him her slick palm.
He laughed too. "Told you."
They stayed like that for a long while, basking in their quiet closeness.