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The hand caressing her side was simple, yet left Brienne’s body shuddering every time she felt the weight of it against her. It’s fingers ghosted over her thin shift, pressing and pinching the fabric between them, threatening to slip under and feel the expanse of the soft skin underneath.
It started as a soft graze — a mistake, even, by the sleeping man beside her. She’d shrug it off, reason it down to Jaime simply moving in his sleep, had the touch not persisted. It roused her from her slumber, though not completely. Sleep still tainted the edges of her vision and weighed down her mind. The world was not yet full. No vows or oaths, no Septon, not even a dog’s bark or a bird’s chirp.
Only herself and Jaime, alongside the hand that barred the coldness of winter from her skin, and soothed the dull aching of her belly. The other one, more of a rounded wrist than hand, was underneath her, cuddled into the warmth.
“Jaime,” she muttered, her voice thick and barely above a whisper.
She knew their closeness allowed for Jaime’s ears to pick up on her quiet groan, for his hand glided across the fabric of her shift until it was playing with the fraying edges and slipping underneath like a breeze. Jaime’s rumbling laugh sounded from behind her, and a familiar smile danced onto her own features.
The massage was a cruel and twisted gesture, but the skin-on-skin was far worse. The teasing lit her skin aflame in goosebumps, and a low, near overwhelming sense of desire washed over her.
Brienne didn’t need to look behind her to know Jaime felt it too. She didn’t need to even feel him. It was unsaid, left between the hushed meetings and soft brushes of skin.
“Mmph, good morning wench,” Jaime kissed her nape, his face carding into her thin hair, his nose pressing against the base of her skull. The words vibrated from his lips rousingly, his breaths tickling her already sensitive, juvenile skin.
“Jaime,” she repeated, her words more of a scold than a call to action. Heeding no warning, Jaime’s searching hands continued, traveling from her side to her stomach, squeezing, pawing, kneading. With a quick shuffle he was on her, his face practically laying on her own, as he peppered the first sweet kisses of daybreak. It did not take long for Jaime to twist the brisk pecks into longer, wetter presses and gentle kitten licks, all along the trail to her mouth, which he swept to take hold of.
“Care for a little hedonism on this fine morning, Brienne?” Jaime asked between kisses, before he was aiming to capture her lips once more, slipping his tongue into her open mouth, kissing her with a fervor. Brienne let his mouth explore her own for only a moment, before she was turning her head away. It did not deter Jaime, who only sprinkled more kisses onto her freckled, mottled cheeks. “Oh, won’t you just give in,” Jaime chuckled lowly.
She fought the smile that graced her lips, but could not resist it fully. The corners of her mouth upturned, and even when pushing Jaime’s head off of her, a girlish giggle sounded. “Stop it. We can’t.”
“Can’t? Why not, I see no reason against it, my Lady?” Jaime’s hand found the ample yet supple meat of her thigh, which he wasted no time clenching onto, as he began to suck dark blemishes onto the pale skin of her neck.
She squirmed against him in a feeble attempt to make him stop. She lacked the will to do much else, his kisses felt good, and the chances of them being caught were low, if the sun’s position in the sky were a tell; it’d barely broken over the horizon. Brienne could not find reason to make him stop this endeavor, so long as he didn’t continue his trek between her legs.
Of course, knowing Jaime and his wants, she knew that would be inevitable. It had not been long since they started their… relationship… intimacy… bond, whatever it was — whatever they’d call it when it was all over.
“Because,” she started, her mind sorting through a hundred excuses as to why she might not want Jaime. The thought of Renly was too far now, she could barely recall anything but the way she’d felt when they’d first danced. She held it close to her chest, but that was long ago, and she was no longer that girl.
Jaime interrupted her thoughts before she could gather them, “Because why? Are you sore from working? Surely not. Do you need balm, or a good rubbing to soothe it all?”
Brienne rolled her eyes, and thought that it was best to be honest. It was Jaime after all. They’d gone through the worst together, and bled together. Still, heat rose to her cheeks, and her tongue felt fat and swollen in her mouth. “I’m on my moons’ blood, Jaime. You won’t want whats down there.”
Jerking back as if he were stunned, Jaime was quick tongued, “And you must speak for me now? I take it you know all of my thoughts, since you are the muse of them? Don’t tell me what I want, wench, I know full well what is in my tastes and what is not.”
His faux-offense — or maybe it was real, Brienne dared to hope — did not last long. He kissed her temple, and then brought his hand out from her shift, the fabric flipping upwards, exposing her naked body to the frigid air, to thumb the healing wound inflicted on the center of her cheek. She winced at the first contact, but eased into the pacifying caress.
“Are you sure? I won’t be offended if you turn me away. Not like this.”
Jaime only smiled. “Positive. Now, I’ve found a better use of your mouth, rather than this fruitless chatting. Won’t you kiss me, my sweetling?”
Brienne’s cheeks reddened, and the look in Jaime’s eyes told her that he was a second away from calling her a sweetberry. She averted her face from his pointed green-eyed gaze for but a moment, before nodding minutely, and welcoming the brush of their lips as he moved atop her. She was not all used to the kissing and the heavy petting, but she quite liked what Jaime could do. He was docile, soft and dutiful when called upon, but ravenous and capricious when she…
The blush on her face was too intense to rationalize with such an innocent kiss. Jaime even laughed as he pulled away. She wondered just how much of her thoughts he could read. Was she really that obvious? She thought of Renly’s face once more, and how her father had read her like a book after that night, before shaking him out of her mind completely.
“I’ve found something for myself, as well, wouldn’t you guess it,” Jaime paused for a split second, before jumping over his own words, “No, don’t. Let me surprise you. I haven’t got many more left.”
Moving between her thighs, coming to sit on his knees, Jaime parted her legs to either side of him. He rubbed the inner skin, his fingers stroking the light chafing from her horse, before moving on. “Close your eyes, Brienne.”
She did just that.
He settled onto the bed further, situating to lay on his chest. His arms wrapped around her thick thighs, pulling her calves upon his shoulders. Brienne had not been lying, her moons’ blood had come. The nestle of long, pale blonde curls that laid atop her cunt were dyed red near her folds. He brought a hand towards them to part the curls and see the pink flesh hiding underneath. It amazed him how the blood had not yet dried.
His knuckle caught some of the blood, his skin becoming painted a deeper shade as he parted her folds with his middle and forefinger. Brienne fidgeted above him, a sweet moan falling from her lips as he brushed against her clit. His finger circled the sensitive nub at a drawn-out pace, plucking each savory sigh from her lips.
“Jaime,” she moaned, her thick fingers resting atop his stump. “Please.”
Entering her with his adept fingers, Brienne gasped. He shoveled the blood from her entrance, watching as it dripped from her like syrup. Only once did it need to hit the sheets beneath them for Jaime to take it as his sign. He reached her cunt with his mouth quickly, his tongue lapping the spilt blood. Brienne’s eyes flew open, and her hand found purchase in his shortened golden curls.
“Jaime!” Brienne all but whispered. He had half a mind to shush her, elsewise she’d wake up the whole Isle.
He hummed against her cunt, his tongue too busy to form words. Besides, nothing he could say would be better than what he was doing. He let it speak for him. He licked her folds, her entrance, and then trailed kisses up to her clit, where he sucked and lapped at the bundle of nerves, his tongue flicking and swirling.
It did not take Brienne long to start to unravel. Her breaths became heavy, the same way they do when they’ve spent too long in the training yard, and her legs started to quiver, her hole clenching desperately around his tongue. The hand in his hair nearly pulled him off of her, but he pushed against it, chasing her orgasm like prey. His cock was hard, and he rutted into the straw-filled bed at the same pace of her pistioning hips.
She came with a loud cry, her head thrown back and those sapphire eyes screwed shut. Jaime pressed a quelling kiss to her clit, one which jerked her hips involuntarily. He peppered them all along the inside of her thighs, until he felt the shiver of Brienne’s legs stop.
Brienne laughed as he pulled away. She brought a hand to her mouth to cover it, but it was no use.
Jaime found the same smile mirrored on his own. “What’s so funny?”
She shook her head. “Nothing… you’ve just…”
“I’ve what?”
“You really do look like a lion now, Jaime.”
He brought his hand to his face, but he suspected it only made matters worse. He could feel the red wetness on his nose, chin, and lips. He hadn’t thought of that, but it was no matter now, the deed was done. Before he could speak, Brienne was doing it for him, “You should get washed up. If anyone sees, they’ll start to worry that you’ve gone rogue and eaten something you weren’t supposed to.”
Jaime laughed, “I have!”