“Jaime, do you take Margaery to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”
The seconds passed and the more they passed, the more his hesitation grew, becoming heavier, becoming braver, I don’t, he wanted to tell them, to scream it, hearing its echo through the walls of the cathedral. He couldn’t even look at her, her beautiful bride, wondering when he had stopped craving for that immaculate beauty.
He closed his eyes, trying to respect his duty, to listen to that small voice in his mind reminding him that he deserved this unhappiness, even more cruel, because disguised as perfection.
All he could see though, was blue.
“Jaime?” The priest called him. “Do you? Do you want to?”
“Tell me you want me.”He said, sounding desperate. “Tell me you want me.” He whispered again. “Please.”
He could still feel the pressure of her lips, her smell in his nostrils, the weight of her body yielding on his, her intake of breath when his fingers had found her wetness and he could still feel that wetness, almost lingering on his fingers. These thoughts hitting him in the most sacred place, surrounded by lilies and candles, almost made him smile for a moment, caught between sacred and profane, except that there wasn’t anything profane in her pleasure.
“Jaime?” It was Margaery, this time.
He really looked at her, probably for the first time that afternoon, her eyes were blue, but he didn’t like that shade. “I don’t.” He suddenly said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.. I can’t do this.”
He swore he saw a small smile on her pretty face in response.
“I.. I don’t understand.” The priest said, his voice shaking.
“I do.” Margaery said. Jaime closed the distance between them, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He said, under his breath, her eyes told him she wasn’t.
He didn’t look behind when he heard his father calling his name, he still marched toward the exit, feeling strong, feeling unstoppable, a small laughter forming in his throat. He opened the door, a ray of sun hit him and he enjoyed the warmth. He reached his motorbike parked under a tree, his brother had snorted once he had found out that he had come to his own wedding with his black Harley, almost anticipating his escape.
He smiled, sitting on it.
“Jaime, we’re going to break it.”
“Oh come on, it’s a motorbike, wench!”
She examined his new purchase, not really convinced. “It’s a vintage Vespa, Jaime.. and I probably weight more than you. This thing will die under our weights.”
He laughed out loud, reaching out to tug at her sleeve. “Are you afraid, wench?”
“Wh-what?” She stammered, blushing. “I’m not! I’m not afraid of a stupid motorbike.. I just.. I’m not a fan.”
“Do you know how many girls, probably boys too, would sell their houses to have a ride with the most handsome guy in the whole college.”
“I’m not interested.”
His eyes gleamed in response. “Of course you are.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ok, bye, Jaime.”
“Wait.” He shouted after her. “You’ll do it one day, I promise you. One day, you’ll ride with me and you’ll beg me to go faster with your thighs tightening around mine, mark these words, wench.”
She turned, holding back a smile. “Maybe you’ll need a different motorbike for that, Lannister.”
“See? I knew you wanted it.”
Jaime fastened his helmet and he wore his leather gloves. “Tyrion, you won’t change my mind.”
“Oh believe me, it’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Have you thought about the consequences of this, though?”
He sighed, meeting his brother’s eyes. “I don’t care about the consequences, Tyrion, I don’t care anymore.. I don’t care about Father, about my job, I don’t care about legacy, about this fucking family’s name.. I don’t-”
“Is there something do you care about, Jaime?”
A pair of ocean eyes flashed in his mind, he smiled briefly, shaking his head faintly, almost to pull the image away. Is it too late?
“I hope you’ll find it.” Tyrion said.
I already have.
“Is that woman in Storm’s End, isn’t it?”
Call her by her name, call her Brienne.
“Bye, little brother.”
He turned to look at his brother for a last time.
“Don’t screw this up.”
He spent the following month trying to put together the pieces, alternating between hangovers and long walks on the Blackwater cycle lane. His fingers had tingled almost everyday on his phone’s keyboard. Sometimes he brushed with his thumb her pale name on the screen, like he could caress her from afar, letting her know she was still filling his thoughts. When her absence became too unbearable, he sheltered himself in their memories that were always beautiful.
Memories, he didn’t know anymore if they were something still belonging to him or something he had lost forever.
He wondered, somehow, if he suffered a strange form of paramnesia, like his mind was creating situations that he had never lived, like his fantasies had turned his memories into something unreal, something untouchable, an alternative reality.
His own was too tangible, too material, divided between the necessity of finding a new job, a new apartment that he really could call his, a base to rebuild his life, hoping one day to find her again.
He couldn’t claim her now, surrounded by imperfections, instabilities.
He spent two weeks looking for a new job. He didn’t need money, he was full of money, the thought alone nauseated him sometimes. How many times he had laughed in front of people stating that money couldn’t buy happiness?
Now, he just knew it.
It had been difficult at the beginning, his reputation preceding him everywhere, the scorn mixed with the surprise greeted him at every corner, until he found a legal studio that did pro bono work, joining it, wondering why that idea had never crossed his mind before.
He also wondered if Brienne would have been proud of him.
He needed a new place to live, then.
He sold his old house first, he didn’t want a 600 sq m villa just for himself, not anymore; in truth, he had never needed it, but he had always found a strange comfort in losing himself in that infinite space, never feeling that sense of home, a constant reminder that a home couldn’t exist without her, because the projects they had made together between melted ice creams and laps in the pool had been maybe naive and immature, but so real.
He still could hang on that realness.
“And this is the extra room, a little small, but so adorable..ideal for a kid, or more actually, Mr Lannister, if I may say so! Look how cute this little bunk bed is, all included.”
He spaced out for a moment, a strange picture forming in his mind, blonde curls, a stuffed plush dolphin, a fairy tale book.
He shook that thought away.
“Oh no, I’m alone.. I..I have no family.”
The real estate agent looked at him, a wave of sadness hitting her eyes, her name was Lollys and she was nice. “Oh, but, for now.. it won’t be difficult, look at you!” She said, blushing. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find your person soon, more than one actually.. a long list waiting for you. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”
Her clumsiness made him genuinely smile.
“See? I can seen that special glint in your eyes, there’s a story behind it. I’m sure there’s something special waiting for you.”
“Someone.” He whispered.
“Someone special, yes.”
“Someone precious.” He said, gazing the bed.
She climbed in his bed, not really caring for any finesse. They were together with all the swim team, a trip made to make all of them bond in preparation of the national championship. They were sharing a big dormitory, a series of bunk beds filling the room. She had spent the last thirty minutes turning in her own bed, brooding, bothered by sweet thoughts that could become heavy with expectations the more she thought about them. He had kissed her two days before, under a sky full of stars and she still wondered, incredulous, why. He was snoring softly against his pillow and she snorted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it, not too gently. “Jaime, wake up.”
He ignored her first attempt and she tried again, more urgently. “Jaime, come on, wake up!”
“’m sleeping.” He mumbled in his pillow.
She extricated it from his head and the action woke him. “Oh come on wench, really?”
His hair was a mess, his eyes two little slots and there was the pillow’s sign on his cheek, yet he was handsome. “Why did you kiss me?” She blurted out, whispering.
He frowned, not expecting her question. “Did you wake me up for this, wench?” He said, trying to take back his pillow. She retreated it from his grasp. “Why did you kiss me, Jaime?”
He seemed annoyed at first, until she saw a small smile playing on his lips. “You kissed me first, remember it?”
She held her breath for a moment, feeling stupid and naive. “Night, Jaime.” She whispered, trying to hold back the hurt in her voice. She reached her bed again when she heard his body moving above her. Two seconds later he was next to her. “Scoot over.”
“Jaime, there’s no need to--”
He didn’t listen to her, entering in her bed and invading her personal space. He looked at her, his cheek flat against the mattress. “Poor hurt wench.”
“Piss off.” She snapped back.
He chuckled, gaining an insult from a distant bed. “Can you two shut up?”
He ignored it. “I was dreaming about you.” He said in a whisper.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I was.” He said, almost offended. “We were on a balloon up in the sky, but, plot twist, it was a strawberry, so it was like we were flying on a giant strawberry.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s nonsense.”
“But suddenly you were hungry and I couldn’t stand the thought of you hungry, I mean, you know I can’t stand the thought of you hungry, wench, so I reached out and I started taking little pieces of strawberry to feed you. God, you were so eager.”
“Shut up!” She bit her lip, repressing a laugh and he smiled in turn.
“The problem is that the strawberry started becoming smaller and smaller, piece after piece, and so we started falling. Then you woke me up, so I don’t know how it ended, wench, that’s why I’m pissed.”
“Interesting Jaime, you know it doesn’t make sense, right? I mean, what does it even mean?” She asked, now smiling.
“It means, wench, that I would choose you before anything else.. that.. that you always come first for me.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“I like you, wench.. I like spending time with you, I like it a lot, as a matter of fact.”
“It doesn’t answer to my question.” She muttered shyly.
He looked at her, amused, playing with a lock of hair falling on her forehead. “I kissed you because you’re precious.” He whispered.
“I’m not such thing.”
“You are.” He immediately said back. “My time spent with you is precious, your smile is precious, the way you look at me is precious, it makes me feel.. it actually makes me feel like I was precious too.”
She rested on her elbow, looking down at him. “You are precious, Jaime. Stop thinking otherwise. You truly are.”
He held his breath, cupping her cheek. “Do you really think that?”
“Of course I do.”
He put her down on the pillow, leaning his forehead on hers. “Do you think I’m the most precious thing in the world, in the whole universe, more than the stars, the moon and the fucking comets?”
She burst out laughing, muffling her laughter in the pillow. “Stop it!” She whispered.
“Wench, tell me I’m the most precious thing in the world, tell me I’m your diamond!”
“You are fucking precious, Lannister, now can you shut the fuck up and let us sleep?” Addam Marbrand said from two beds on the left. Brienne kept laughing in the pillow after that and Jaime, laughing too, grabbed her sides, tickling her and making her squirm. She elbowed his stomach in response and he whimpered loudly in the pillow.
They were both breathless, trembling against each other, until he tucked her head under his chin and after some seconds of muffled laughter, she fell asleep with her lips against his neck.
He had made an offer for the apartment; he was in the little Cafè near the port, their Cafè, when Lollys called him, informing him that the house was his.
At the radio someone, he couldn’t recognize at first, was singing.
I have a memory,
you visiting me at night,
climbing in my bed,
you were so quite, that you never woke me.
I love the way you could
see the good in everything,
but do we fuel the fire?
Closing my eyes, remember how we were like.
He sipped his coffee, closing his eyes.
She had never liked flying, the thought of not having anything under her feet made her nervous.
It was like leaving the reality for a couple of hours and allowing herself to yield to her imagination.
It was dangerous.
Then why was she on a plane for King’s Landing with the heart in her throat at every air pocket?
Because this time she wanted to be the one taking her life in her hands, because she was tired of waiting. That letter that he had left her one month ago still made her both hopeful and disillusioned, at the same time. She needed to look at him in the eyes, asking him why he hadn’t come back to her, why he had chosen to wait, once again. His words on that paper that had seemed so firm and concrete, now were just a distant illusion, something made up to ease her pain. The thought of letting him go, once for all, had never crossed her mind though, because every time she closed her eyes, everything restarted again, like a black and white movie that gained colour once approaching the present.
His voice, his smell, that smirk she pretended to hate, didn’t give her rest and she was tired.
She reached out for her travelling bag, finding inside what she was searching.
That morning, she had found her old diary written during the college, while she was trying to choose something interesting to read during the flight; without a second thought, she had put it in her bag.
She opened it in the middle, caressing delicately the pages.
He’s insufferable, most of the times. He has this way of looking at me that I still can’t understand.
Does he look at the others in the same way? Of course he does, why should I be special?
And he smirks, he smirks a lot, as if he already knew something I still can’t catch.
It makes me feel slow.
I don’t hate him, though. Not anymore. I found a piece of paper in my locker yesterday, I can discern his handwriting everywhere now, it’s unintelligible and almost as much irritating as him; It says to meet him for breakfast tomorrow at the Cafè near the port. I like that place, that’s why I think I’ll go, for this reason only.
I don’t know why he wants to spend his time with me, or better I know why, he’s just lonely.
Why me, though?
Yesterday he told me I remind him of the ocean and I asked him why. He said that I always pretend to be calm in front of everyone, but I’m restless inside.
For a moment I hoped he was talking about my eyes.
The Cafè was nice as I remembered, he said he goes there every morning because he likes doing breakfast surrounded by people.
He spilled a whole cup of coffee, my coffee, on my blue t-shirt, because he’s careless.
He said I should stop drink that crap because it makes me even more nervous and hysterical.
Maybe he’s right.
He ordered a cup of tea later, for me, and I told him it tasted like grass.
To be honest, I kinda liked it.
There was a big stain on my t-shirt and he kept looking at it with his usual smirk. I wanted to spill my tea on his shirt, but I didn’t want to waste it.
Before leaving, he told me that blue is a good colour of me, that it goes well with my eyes.
I still don’t understand him.
She fell asleep with the diary in her hands.
The road between the airport and the city centre had been a roller coaster of emotions. Every corner, every dusty street, the smell of the rain on the asphalt reminded her of what she had lost, reminded her of him, of their walks, their fights, his nonsense, his sweetness.
They reminded her of that cursed night that had shattered her dream in a blink, not leaving her anything in exchange.
That cursed night had been built of a lie, but this thought didn’t give her any relief somehow.
She found an hotel near the port; it was cheap, but clean. It was one of those hotels that throw theme parties every night and expect you to actually join them. She spent the evening in her room, while a distant Hawaiian song reached her ears. Her phone rang and she found Podrick’s name on the screen.
-“Hey you, how was your flight?”
-“I survived.” She said with a small smile. -“This city, though.. I miss home already.”
-She sighed, laying down on the bed. “There are memories everywhere, Pod, I think I’ll stay closed up in here for a week.”
-“Well, more bad or good ones?”
-“Good, actually.. but that’s why it hurts more in a sense, isn’t it?”
Podrick laughed softly into the phone. -“How do you feel about meeting him?”
-“I feel like throwing my self in his arms and punching him on the nose a second later.. but then I would probably take care of his poor nose.. God, his nose, I think I have a kink for his nose, have I ever told you?”
-“At least fifteen times.” They both laughed. “The kids already miss you, little Lyanna today found a starfish and named it Brienne.”
-“It is, they really love you. I can’t wait for you to open your own school, Brienne.. you deserve it.”
She sighed. -“Who knows? Maybe one day when I’ll finally put together all the pieces.”
-“Then, start with the most important one.. fix that, follow your heart and I promise you things will be good.”
-“I love you, Pod.”
She ended the call, staring at the phone for some minutes, hoping to find the right words. Then, she simply typed:
Tomorrow, 9 AM, same place.
She didn’t wait for his answer.
He loved the cycle lane near the port at that time of the day, when the sun started leaving place to the moon.
He liked looking at the ocean, leaning on the railing coasting the seafront. His phone buzzed in his jacket and he took it with that hint of excitement that always followed him since the day he had left her; there was still that small hope that made him believe she could be the one calling him.
He snorted, seeing his brother’s name on the screen, it was a text.
Remember Bronn? That fookin’ Bronn? I met him this morning, he’s married with kids, that lucky bastard, see? There’s hope for everyone.
Jaime chuckled bitterly reading his brother’s text. His fingers then travelled on his phone, finding her name. Should I call her?
He had a new house, a new job, why not? He was ready.
He was more than ready actually but, he truth was, he was scared, scared of her not taking his calls, of her refusing him, scared of her anger.
He just wanted her to love him, unconditionally, with no reserves; was it that difficult to ask? Maybe, if he hadn’t left her with a fucking letter the day after that night spent kissing and holding each other during their sleep.
He looked uncertain at his phone, until, moved by an incredible urge, his thumb pressed the call button.
His heart started beating faster, sweat suddenly appeared on his hairline, his body became restless. Apparently there was no signal because the thing didn’t seem to work. He started cursing loudly, clutching the phone in his hand, punching the railing beside him.
He knew it hadn’t been a great idea to call her.
He didn’t know though, why his phone decided to slip from his fingers in that moment, ending up in the ocean with a silent thud.
He had never believed in destiny, he had never believed in that thing called “serendipity”, like it was possible to find something wonderful, something you really want while you’re busy thinking about something totally unrelated. Those things didn’t belong to him, he was too broken, too cynic somehow, or he tried to be, because it was easier to live that way, never expecting anything.
He didn’t think, for sure, that the following morning, once entered in his Cafè, their Cafè, at 9.30 AM he could run into her, like it was the most natural, possible thing in the world.
He entered in the Cafè, his mind somewhere else, busy with finding a way to make his new stupid phone work, when a woman crashed into him, spilling the whole content of a mug of hot tea on his shirt.
He immediately felt the warmth, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“For fuck’s sake, be careful.”
Then he lifted his gaze, meeting hers and he couldn’t say anything anymore.
“I.. I thought you..” She started. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
It sounded like a whisper and he wondered if he was still dreaming. He looked down at the stain on his shirt, almost to check if it was still there, like he was looking for a confirmation of that reality.
“You’re late.” She whispered again.
He found her eyes and their pull made him take a step toward her, but she retreated. Her fingers circled around his wrist. “There’s a table down there.” She pulled him with her, while he felt the heart in his throat and he was pretty sure she could sense under her fingertips his erratic beating on his wrist. They reached a little table next to the window, they sat down and he found her eyes again. She was wearing a beige turtle-neck sweater, her hair in waves almost touched her shoulders. She didn’t wear make up and he remembered how much he loved her without it, because her eyes possessed that glint, that vulnerability that had always charmed him.
Her eyelashes, her brows were so blonde, he almost felt the urge to kiss them.
“You let it grow.”
Her voice awakened him.
He frowned in confusion. “Your hair. It’s longer.. you..you let it grow.”
He had let it grow the moment she had told him she preferred him with longer hair. His fingers reached out, finding her hand, he swallowed, overwhelmed by the warmth of her skin. “What..what are you doing here?” It was strange to hear his own voice.
She scowled and he wanted to laugh for how much he had missed that expression. “I told you yesterday in my text.”
“You wrote me.. yesterday?”
She nodded, her hand slightly trembling under his. “Well wench, my phone fell into the sea yesterday, I think a fucking fish has probably read your text at my place.” He realized she was trying to hold back a smile. “You’re always so careless, aren’t you?”
“Oh but you’ve just spilled a whole mug of tea on my shirt, wench.”
“That is because you clearly weren’t paying attention to your feet, as usual.”
He smiled softly and she lowered her gaze. “I missed you.” He whispered, but she retreated her hand from his grasp. “Look at me.” He said, almost begging her.
She lifted her eyes, slowly. “The reason I’m here..” Her voice was trembling and he tried to take her hand again.
“No.” She said. “Let me do this. I.. I’m tired Jaime.. tired of waiting for you, tired of depending on you that much. I don’t like to be like that, I don’t like that a single touch from you, a simple letter that should have destroyed me, gave me hope again. I feel powerless and I don’t like it. I found out about what you did at your wedding in a magazine, can you believe that? I felt so stupid--”
“Brienne, let me--”
“No, let me talk. I asked myself why you didn’t come back, what I had missed or done wrong, but you know what? I’m not the problem here Jaime, you are. And maybe, I don’t like this version of you, I don’t like you hiding yourself behind the spectrum of your family, your duty, your nonsense. Sometimes I think you’re a coward, you didn’t even have the courage to look in my eyes and tell me you were in love with me, for God’s sake. Now I come here because I decided to do that and you tell me that you missed me?”
“I did, so fucking much. And you’re right, wench.. I’m a coward, or maybe I was.. I just needed time.”
“Time for what, Jaime? Time, again? Do you realize I’ve waited eighteen years for you? Eighteen fucking years.”
“I would wait a lifetime.” He whispered.
She brushed away a tear from her cheek. “That’s the point, Jaime. You were so used to wait for me that you didn’t even realize I was there in front of you. Maybe it was this waiting that made you go on, maybe you just idealized me.. well I’m sorry, but I’m right here and I’m real. And no, your words are not enough, not anymore.”
“What are you talking about? I left a woman on the altar for you, fuck.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
He swallowed, the absurdity of the situation hitting him. “I.. I found a new job, Brienne..a new apartment.. I just, I just needed to get my life together. I wanted to offer you the best version of myself. You need to believe me, please.”
She looked at him, biting her bottom lip slightly and he felt the urge to touch her again.
“Believe me, one more time.”
She didn’t reply to him, she dismissed his gaze, searching for something in her bag. She took a kind of book and she gave it to him.
“What is it?” He asked her.
“My diary.” She said in a small voice. “I wrote it during the college when.. when I met you.”
He caressed the cover, smiling. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because it’s what I am, because reading it, then maybe you’ll know what you meant to me and maybe.. maybe you’ll understand.” She said, standing up.
“Meant? Wait..where are you going?” He panicked.
“I’m staying at the Dolphin’s Hotel, I’ll leave in two days. Try to understand what you want, you’ll find me there.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
“I already know what I want, Jaime, but this time..there’s no turning back. If you choose me, you’ll keep me.”
“What are you smiling about? Stop smiling, it’s irritating.” She said, annoyed.
“I like this version of you.”
“You’ll find the other versions in there.” She said, tapping the diary in front of him. He was fast, covering her hand and caressing her fingers. She moved it, flattening her fingertips against his, caressing his skin, like she was under a spell. She was standing up, towering over him, but she seemed almost small to him. He interlaced their fingers, lifting her hand toward his mouth. He kissed it and she sighed, closing her eyes. Her fingers caressed his lips and then she found his cheek, cupping it. “If you want me, you’ll find me there.” She whispered. “Come and get me.”
She walked away, leaving him staring at her.
He spent the day reading her diary, he even ate reading her diary, he couldn’t close it.
He already knew he wouldn’t have done anything else.
Jaime Lannister approached me at the bonfire yesterday. He has a strange way to annoy me.
He decided to call me wench, just to irritate me or to make fun of me, like I wasn’t used to it.
He told me we’re both lonely and maybe he’s right.
There’s something strange in his eyes, something I still don’t understand, something he doesn’t show a lot or maybe it was just the moonlight.
He sits on the bench while I train, I don’t know why. Sometimes he stares at me, shaking his head slightly. He’s probably thinking about how ugly I am.
He told me he has never seen so many freckles, but he was smiling and it didn’t sound cruel.
If he learns to shut up a little bit, I could consider becoming his friend.
He bought me an ice cream before leaving.
Wench! Wench!! Wench!!! Will he ever shut up? I don’t remember my name anymore.
Today I threw Jaime into the pool.
He kept staring at my legs, he said they’re so long, he could wrap them around him twice.
I found it inappropriate.
What does it mean, by the way?
We do breakfast together everyday at the Cafè near the port, it’s nice not to be alone;
and if he’s eating, it means he’s not talking.
Today I took Jaime at the Viking splash Tour.
He had fun, I guess.. he smiled a lot.
I think I like it when he smiles, his eyes become two little slots and if he’s smiling, it means he isn’t talking, which it’s great.
He really talks a lot.
He keeps telling me stories from the book I gave him while I’m trying to study.
I shouldn’t have bought it.
His eyes shine when he tells me about them, though.
I will never ride his stupid motorbike with him.
Sometimes he changes, his eyes darken and a shadow clouds his face.
No one seems to notice it, but I do.
I would like to take it away.
People say that he sleeps with his step sister.
It’s not that I care.
She’s beautiful anyway, as beautiful as him; sometimes I wish he would talk to me about that, but maybe he still doesn’t trust me.
I’d like someone to trust me.
I definitely know that I prefer to see him smile.
I like to think he’s my friend. I like to think no one makes him laugh the way I do. His laughter is different now, it doesn’t sound like a joke, not anymore.
I will take the dark parts of your heart into my heart.
He told me that last time he slept with his step sister was before meeting me.
He has never slept with her after that.
For a moment I dared to hope there was a meaning behind it, but I quickly shook the thought away.
It was just a moment of weakness.
Cersei is beautiful, I am not.
I lost dad, I miss him.
Today I cried in front of Jaime, he took my head, cradling it on his shoulder, against his neck.
It’s the first time a man touches me like this.
I think I like it.
He danced with me in the middle of the street. The song’s name is Ocean eyes.
He told me it reminds him of me.
I like to have his arms around me, it makes me feel special.
I wanted that song to last forever.
I woke up sweaty, my panties were damp.
I don’t know why, it never happened to me before.
I can’t stop listening to Ocean Eyes.
Last night, we almost ended up in prison. He wanted to go to his aunt’s garden pool at midnight.
He missed the civic number.
Sometimes I still hate him.
Sometimes I close my eyes and I pretend to walk hand in hand, under the rain, with him.
He probably would laugh at this.
I think I like him.
I wish he could see himself the way I see him.
I wish I could borrow him my eyes.
I just touched myself thinking about him.
I promise, it won’t happen again.
He’s my friend.
He told me he’s one of the three things that make me happy.
He doesn’t know how true that is.
It happened again.
I can’t stop thinking about Jaime and I hate this. I hate that every time something happens to me, I feel the need to call him, I hate that I keep finding excuses to make him touch me and I hate the warmth invading my belly every time he does it. I hate the way he looks at me, because I see a glint that shouldn’t be there.
I hate that I’m scared.
I think I love him even if I don’t know what love is, but I wish it was like that.
An hour ago, under the Dolphin’s constellation, I kissed him… and he kissed me back. He gave me pleasure as well, or maybe that part just happened in my mind.
He told me he won’t let anyone to hurt me.
I’m sure that happened for real.
He told me I’m precious.
If he keeps telling me that, I might start believing it.
I hope he’ll like my dress.
He paused at that point, overwhelmed, realizing his eyes were glassy, a small tear had landed on a page, fading the ink. He didn’t know if he could read beyond that part, he didn’t stand the thought of finding out about her pain, He didn’t want to read how much he had hurt her, even if unintentionally.
He took a breath and turned a page.
I’m angry, but with myself, I can’t stop crying.
It’s what I deserve.
I’ve been naive, I’ve been a stupid. I believed in things I wasn’t allowed to believe. Things like that don’t happen to girls like me and deep down, I always knew it.
His eyes tricked me, the way he looked at me, that special glint, that particular sweetness he reserved just to me. I can’t believe none of this was real. He needed me as much as I needed him, but he used me, until the end, without leaving me anything in exchange; and while he was busy using me, I fell in love with him.
I want to go far away and to possibly forget about him.
I know I can go away, but I also know I can’t forget him.
There will be no one else after him.
Suddenly he closed the diary, he picked his motorbike’s keys and he left his apartment.
He took another helmet with him, hoping it would have been useful later. He remembered the Dolphin’s hotel, it was a little building with a great view on the sea. He attended some parties and events there. He was riding fast, his temples throbbed, his beating accelerated. He just wanted to reach her, to tell her how much he wanted her, to tell her how sorry he was because his escape that morning had been as cruel as shallow. He didn’t realized it would have destroyed her again, he didn’t realized her feelings for him could be that deep, that desperate. He was selfish because a small part of him loved that desperation, loved the fact that she had always been his, even all these years spent away from him, like an invisible thread had kept them together.
He wanted to show her the same love, his even stronger perhaps, still unintelligible sometimes.
He parked his motorbike and he entered in the Hotel.
Apparently, there was a big event or something because a loud music came from the Bar at the end of the hallway.
“I need to speak to Miss Tarth, she’s a guest here. Could you call her, please?” He told the receptionist. He hadn’t even bothered to say hello, he felt like he didn’t have time for kindness; for a moment the thought of not finding her became tangible.
“Who’s wanting her?”
She’s already gone.
He looked at the man picking the phone and he held his breath. “Jaime. Jaime Lannister.”
He didn’t realize he was holding his breath, his mind lost somehow. “She didn’t reply.” He heard distantly.
“What?” He almost couldn’t hear him.
“She’s not in her room, Mr. Lannister.”
He felt like the floor was crumbling under his feet, or maybe it was just the weakness he suddenly felt in his knees. “She’s gone.” He whispered to himself.
“God, she’s really gone.”
“She’s not, Mr. Lannister.” The man spoke. “She didn’t check out, she’s still here. You should probably look for her at the party in the Bar, it’s a big one, our guests all attend tonight.”
He thought for a moment to kiss the man’s bald head in gratitude, but he couldn’t, not until he hadn’t the certainty of finding her.
His feet carried him through the hallway, his legs were heavy while he just wanted to walk faster. The music was too loud, he almost felt numb. When he reached the Bar, the room was full and coloured in blue lights.
It seemed impossible to find her.
Fold your heels and skip the whys
Honestly, I can’t take tonight.
He started moving aside random people who were dancing and bumping into him, interfering his path, the music still throbbing in his ears. It seemed a labyrinth somehow, he wondered if that was the final test he had to pass, the last step for having her.
He looked around and all he could see was blue.
Here’s living proof on my fingertips,
when your mouth’s beside, I know you’re real.
His head was spinning lightly, he wondered if he was having a panic attack or something, but he kept walking, the feet dragging him at the centre of the dance floor. Where are you?
Everybody wanted to come, everybody wanted me,
safe with my sulk.
Everybody wanted to come, everybody wanted me.
He wanted her.
All around him couples were kissing, women dancing, bodies rubbing. For a moment the situation was almost absurd. Suddenly he felt the excitement growing inside him, fomented by all that light around him, fomented by the expectation of finding her.
And then, he saw her.
On a stool at the end of the bar, tight jeans and a white t-shirt, hair messily tied up in a ponytail, her fingers restless against the counter and when her eyes met his, the blue in the background faded.
She stood up immediately, walking toward him.
They looked at each other, their gazes glued, they seemed to hold their breath at the same moment, to move their feet in the same way, synchronized, from afar.
Move your hips and let them roll.
Demon high, he’s bound to fall.
When she was near enough, without a word, he grabbed her hips, pressing her against his body and his mouth crashed against hers. He devoured her lips, desperate and she replied with the same ferocity, like she was starving. He pushed his leg between hers, rubbing against her and she moaned against him, moving her hips to follow his lead. His fingers reached out to to unfasten her hair and then he buried them in it, biting her bottom lip, while her hand slid under his leather jacket.
Heart and soul like I knew you would.
When you say love, it sounds so good.
He grabbed her ass then, to pull her closer and she found his skin under his shirt, her nails, grazing him softly, made him want to take her there, in front of everyone. He made her rub against him again, slowly while she left his mouth, sucking the tip of his earlobe. He closed his eyes, seeing blue again. Her neck was exposed and he bit it, not too gently until her whimpers made him relieve her skin with his tongue. She moaned, still rubbing herself against his thigh. He felt a light dampness on his pants. She looked at him, hair messy, pupils dilated, her lips swollen and he framed her face, swallowing her moans again. He couldn’t stop kissing her, her tongue caressing his in turn, their tips teasing each other, her teeth dragging his bottom lip and then sucking it again. He pulled her away, painfully, finding her ear. “I’m going to take you here.” He felt her laughter against his neck and he pressed his erection against her leg. “If I stay a minute more in this room I’m going to fuck you here in front of everyone.” He sucked her lobe as she panted against his neck. Seconds later he felt her lips brushing his ear. “You’re going to fuck me in a real bed tonight, Jaime.”
A thrill of arousal hit him, she took his hand, leading him outside and he couldn’t help but check out her ass in those jeans.
She caught him, pretending indignation.
Now I feel the love I’ve waited for.
Her face when she saw his motorbike easily became one of his favourite things.
He laughed, giving her a helmet and she surprised him, taking it without a word.
“Take this, you’ll be cold.” He told her, giving her his leather jacket. She wore it and he looked at her, noticing her nipples hardening through her t-shirt. As always she wasn’t wearing a bra, he tried holding back his excitement.
He seated on his motorbike waiting for her and then he felt her weight, her thighs around his, her breast against his back.
She was warm, she was always warm.
Her hands circled his chest, she slid them under his shirt and he shivered.
She kissed his neck.
They rode in the night, the dark sweetened by small lights at the sides of the street. They stopped at one traffic light and he felt the urge to feel her, to be sure of her presence. He caressed her thigh, slowly, with his fingers, teasingly. She pressed herself more against him. “Go faster, please.” She whispered.
They arrived in front of his apartment, he took her hand, leading her to the entrance. He noticed she was slightly nervous now, more shy, the same sweet shyness he had always secretly loved, but when he started fumbling with his keys in front of the door, she busied herself kissing softly his neck and he chuckled, his left hand cupping her head.
“You’re distracting me, stop it.” He said, joking. She didn’t stop and he turned her, pushing her against the door and kissing her senseless. Her fingers interlaced in his hair and he panted against her lips. “I want you.” She closed the distance between them again. He stopped then, kissing her forehead and resting his own against her. He could see that hint of nervousness again. He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “What is it, wench?” He asked her, but she shook her head faintly in response.
“We won’t do anything you’re not ready to do tonight. Don’t be nervous.”
“It’s not that.” She whispered.
He kissed her forehead again.“What is it, then? Talk to me.”
She smiled, taking the keys from his hand and opening the door.
They went inside.
She realized she was breathing faster now, while her feet carrying her slowly inside his home, inside his world, almost contradicting her caution. He seemed excited, a sweet hope glinting his eyes and the awareness that there wouldn’t have been no turning back between them, not after the night she would have spent in his arms, his body inside hers. He was showing her his new apartment, but his words didn’t really reach her ears. It had been easier in that dark room, their senses clouded by the music, the warmth and the excitement, like they had been sheltered in a dreamlike bubble.
Here everything was real.
The wool blanket on his leather couch was real, the abandoned cup of tea on the side table, the record player at the corner of the room, the soft orange light from the lamp was real.
Suddenly she was frightened by that reality that belonged to him.
Did he know she was a virgin? Did he know that her body was still untouched, her skin unexplored? That the thought of yielding to him was terrifying?
How could she give him pleasure in turn when the fear of disappointing him was making her still?
Her eyes met his, surprised by the hint of sweetness she found in his voice, almost like he had already sensed her hesitation. “I asked you if you want to drink something?”
She immediately shook her head and he answered her with a smile. She heard him moving in the kitchen, making his drink, while her eyes explored the room. She found her diary on the table, she caressed its cover almost reverently and then she opened it. She held her breath, reading the page.
There will be no one else after him.
Her fingers caressed the words, while she started hearing a song coming from the record player. She turned slightly, meeting his eyes for a moment, until her gaze focused on the diary again. She felt his presence then, his chest pressed lightly against her back. He put a glass of Whisky on the table and his hand now free curled around her body.
He sighed against her neck.
“There will be no one else after me?” He whispered teasingly in her ear. He kissed her temple and she turned, her body trapped between him and the table.
“I.. I wasn’t kidding.” She said in a small voice.
She seemed not able to stand his gaze in that moment and she lowered her eyes. “I.. I didn’t have..”
He cupped her cheek, raising her face toward him. “Talk to me.” He whispered.
“There was no other man after you, Jaime..just you..always you.”
She could discern a rush of emotions passing in his lucid eyes. “What.. what are you trying to tell me, Brienne?”
“I’m a virgin, Jaime.. and I’m terrified.. because if it’s true that I’ve waited all this time for you, because I wanted it to be perfect and no, there wouldn’t have been any perfection without you..it’s also true that.. I don’t know how to do this and yes, I’m scared I’ll be a fucking disappointment.”
He was silent at first, until he smiled and a small laughter left his lips.
“What are you laughing about?” She asked, almost annoyed.
He kissed her forehead, her nose and her lips, softly. “You’re telling me I’ll be the only one making love to you, wench and you call yourself a disappointment? I didn’t dare hoping for this, never.. but I almost forgot you live up to all my expectations, you exceed them in fact.. and I know it will be perfect, because you are the fucking perfection here, Brienne.”
“I’m not.” She said, sighing. “Look at me.”
He caressed her lips. “All the imperfections you can have make you so perfect to my eyes, and honestly, I’ve waited eighteen years too for this moment, so forgive me when I say I can’t wait to make love with you.”
She kissed him softly twice.
He looked serious at her. “Ok wench, so won’t you let me see your naked body?”
She distanced herself, frowning in confusion, until she got his reference. He smiled, taking the glass of Whisky in one hand and pulling her in his arms.
He started swaying to the notes of the song in the background and she laughed against his neck.
“I waaaalked up to the tallest and blondest girl, I said, look you don’t know me now but very soon you will.” He sang, taking a sip from his glass. She was still laughing when he twirled her and then pressed her more firmly in his arms. “So won’t you let me seeeeee? I said, won’t you let me see.. won’t you let me see??” He paused dramatically, looking at her. “Your naked body?” He said against her lips, the smell of whisky almost intoxicating.
She chuckled in response. “Do you think to be sexy?” She asked serious, but God, he really was.
“Nah, you’re the sexy one in the couple.” He said, squeezing her ass. She moaned and he kissed her in response. He guided her backwards, toward his bedroom. Step after step, their kisses became more insistent, more urgent, slowed just by their laughter. Once in the room, his left hand interlaced in her hair while her fingers, trembling, approached the buttons of his shirt. She unfastened them, slowly, while the Whisky melted on her tongue. She caressed the exposed skin and she interrupted the kiss, smiling at his protests, while her lips found his chest. His fingers in her hair softened his grasp, now guiding her exploration. She felt his hand sliding to her back and then lower, finding her skin under her t-shirt. She released her breath, yielding to his caress.
“I want to kiss every inch of your body.” He whispered.
She extricated herself from his grasp, putting some distance between them. She looked at him, her eyes fixed on his. Her heart was thudding fast; she took the glass of Whisky still in his hand and she drank what was left in a gulp, the alcohol burned her throat. She put the now empty glass on the side table and then, without a word, she started undressing herself in front of him. He seemed unable to open his mouth, unable to look away. She removed her jeans first, trembling, but never interrupting their gaze. He took a step toward her, but her eyes told him to stop, they told him to be patient, to wait a little bit more. Her fingers curled around her t-shirt then and after a hint of hesitation, she took it off, slowly. He swallowed, his eyes fixed on her naked breasts.
He had already seen her like that, but this was different and they both sensed that.
He took another step.
Her fingers now slid under the band of her panties and he followed her movements, encouraging her gestures. When she removed them, she was totally naked in front of him. She saw him looking at the blonde hair between her legs, mesmerised and he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. She was the one closing the distance between them, the one removing his shirt, his jeans, his boxer, the one reaching out to caress his skin slowly until he moaned against her shoulder.
He took her hand, guiding her to his bed.
As promised, he started kissing every inch of her body, not hiding his admiration, whispering incoherent things against her skin, warming her goosebumps, licking her fear away.
His tongue was warm against her nipples and for a moment she thought her pleasure would have already come, just with that. When he sucked one breast in his mouth she breathed his name for the first time.
His lips then went down.
He brushed her navel and then he inhaled against her skin. “No one has touched you like this?” He asked in a whisper.
She shook her head shyly.
“Why?” He asked her, his cheek flat on her hip.”
She sighed, her fingers caressing his hair. “You know why.” She whispered.
“Tell me again, please.”
She looked at him, her eyes slowly filling with emotion.
“All these years you never felt the need to get close to someone else, to feel loved by someone else, to make love.. or just sex, just pleasure, nothing more, with someone else?”
“Did you?” She asked faintly, not hiding a hint of fear.
“I..I’ve always been weaker than you, but.. I never loved anyone else, I swear.”
She bit her bottom lip, dismissing his gaze. “I.. I tried.. a few times, I won’t deny that. There were dates, flowers, there were dinners, awkward kisses and then.. nothing else, nothing more. I stopped when I realized why I was doing it.. because every time a man kissed me, I closed my eyes, pretending it was you, every time someone tried complimenting me, there was your voice in my head, your stupid voice with those absurd compliments that could be called as such just because they came from your stupid mouth. And when some of them tried touching me and I.. I felt their hands on me, then I knew I had to stop because I had never felt something so wrong in my life.”
He swallowed, brushing with his lips her skin. “No one can touch you the way I do.”
She nodded, fighting back a tear. “Besides, it’s not that I had to refuse a lot of suitors.” She added, half smiling.
He groaned in response. “I don’t believe you, not even for a second.”
“It’s true.” She said. “My body.. my muscles, my strength.. they can be very intimidating. I often felt that some of them couldn’t accept the fact that I could be stronger, physically stronger at least, no one has ever stayed enough to know how stupidly broken I was inside. The fact that they couldn’t dominate me in a sense.. I think it was a big turn-off for them.”
He looked deeply at her, his fingers caressing her stomach, testing her muscles there. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
She chuckled, pinching his wrist. He rose a little, covering her body with his and resting on his elbows. “Your body, your muscles, your strength.. they excite me, they excite me so much.” He told her serious, searching for her eyes again. “The thought of you dominating me, pinning me down, taking all the pleasure you’re craving from me, only from me, reducing me to an incoherent begging man, makes me so fucking crazy, it makes me want to give you all I have.”
She swallowed, staring at him for some seconds, then her fingers grabbed his hair, crashing his mouth against hers. He moaned in response, receiving her tongue and they kissed frantically, her legs opening a little more at his passion, until bravely she used her heel, pushing his body against hers, his sex brushing her, it was hard against her wetness. They both panted at the contact, interrupting the kiss.
“I want you.” She whispered.
She had lost the count of how many time she had used her fingers, pretending he was the one filling her, making her come with his sweet nonsense whispered in her ears.
Every time she silenced him, biting his lips.
She was awaken by her mental dream when she felt his forehead against hers, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance. “I can’t remember the last time I haven’t wanted you.”
“Then take me.” She said against his lips. He smiled sweetly, kissing her forehead, then he surprised her, leaving her body and resting on his side, facing her. She mimicked his position, her cheek flat on the pillow, looking confused at him. For a moment the thought of being rejected still crossed her mind.
Not now, you will break me forever.
His hand started caressing her leg and she couldn’t help but tremble at his touch, scared at excited at the same time; he found her buttocks then, his fingers sliding between them and she stilled, holding her breath, at the contact. He caressed her a little bit there, seeming mesmerized by the little sounds of pleasure coming from her mouth.
At that point she knew that she would have been ready to give him everything.
He found her pussy then, his thumb sliding slowly inside her and she closed her eyes at the intrusion. He thrust it in and out her, speeding up a little bit his movements, until he was the one groaning in the pillow, inebriated by her response and the wetness he found there.
He left her sex reluctantly and he kept going up, she followed at the corner of her eyes his fingertips dancing against her back until he closed the distance between them, kissing her softly on the lips. She couldn’t move, like she was under his spell, like all those nights spent dreaming about him had forbidden every initiative from her.
Her pleasure mixed with the expectation, paralysing her.
Suddenly his voice awakened her.
“Like I was saying, there’s nothing I’d love more than you dominating me and pinning me down on this fucking bed all the night, wench, but.. for now.. now we’ll do this together, no one dominating the other, just you and me, meeting each other for the first time.”
“Then shut the fuck up and meet me.” She said against his lips, the words coming easy from her mouth.
He laughed, playing with her hair. “Look, about protections, I’m clean and if you--”
“I’m on the pill and well.. I’m clean too.” She said shyly.
He smiled, kissing her softly on the lips. He nudged her legs open until he was able to slide slowly inside her. She held her breath while he adjusted himself inside, pushing her closer to him in the process. “Are you ok?” He whispered, kissing her temple.
“Stay a little bit like this, just.. don’t move for now, please.”
This is where you belonged.
She had waited eighteen years for that moment, but that choice had never felt like a sacrifice, it had felt like something unavoidable. Now, sensing him inside her, hard and unwieldy, almost at the verge of hurting her, it didn’t feel like a victory or like a conquer, it felt like returning home, it felt like belonging.
“You’re here.” She said in a whisper, not realizing that those words had come out from her mouth.
“I’m here.” He stayed still, his eyes seemed softer somehow when he looked at her. He caressed every inch of her face with his lips and that overwhelming sweetness made her hand going shyly around him, pushing him more inside her. He smiled, kissing her. “It’s nice to finally meet you, pretty stranger.” He said then, his fingers caressing her breasts.
“What’s your name?”
Here we are with the nonsense.
She smiled. “You already know my name, Jaime.”
He smiled in turn, starting to move slowly inside her. “See? You already know mine, it’s unfair. Tell me yours.”
She started panting, her thighs trembling around him, while his thrust became more insistent, deeper. “Brienne.” She breathed out.
“Did you say wench?” He gasped back.
“Brienne.” She said exasperated.
He chuckled in her ear.“That’s a pretty name, nice to meet you, Brienne.”
She didn’t know if it was the way he moved or the way he had said her name, but she closed her eyes, escaping the reality, the pleasure overwhelming her. “Jaime..”
He kissed her eyelids in turn. “Open them.” He whispered. “You don’t need to close them anymore.”
“Jaime.” She moaned again.
She kissed him then, her tears wetting his lips. The feel of his sex hard inside her melting every doubt away.
He couldn’t stand it anymore at that point and breaking his previous purpose, he flattened her on the bed, covering her body and thrusting deeply inside her. The moan escaping her lips seemed to convince him to go faster. Her eyes were fixed on his, like she was trying to perceive every bit of pleasure coming from him and still wondering how was it possible that she was the one giving him that kind of bliss.
Like she could please something so perfect.
“What do you see when you look at me?” He asked her, recalling her attention again, the pleasure slowing his words. She trapped his face close to hers, burying her fingers inside his hair, breathing against him.
Don’t leave me.
“Love.” She whispered and she found out she wasn’t lying.
“Good.” He said, kissing her lips. “It’s the same thing I see when I look at you.” A tear fell from the corner of her eyes and he kissed it away. He grabbed her legs, linkng them around his back and he started thrusting inside her from a different angle, kneeling a little and raising her butt from the bed.
“Jaime..” She moaned, surprised by the new rush of pleasure.
“Don’t leave me.” She said, looking deeply at him. Those words, that she had been able to hold back until that moment, had been suddenly awakened by her pleasure, in a contradictory but rational way.
Like she couldn’t allow herself to totally yield to that unknown joy.
“Jaime, I.. don’t leave me again.”
She saw some tears falling from his eyes. “I won’t leave you.. I won’t ever leave you.” He said frantically, kissing her lips. “You need to believe me, please believe me, Brienne.”
She nodded, not able to talk, losing herself in his desperation.
“Say it.” He begged her, cradling her face in his hands, his fingertips caressing her sweaty hairline. But she couldn’t focus, her moans becoming louder until he swallowed them, taking her mouth. Their tongues met in a messy dance while she felt her orgasm approaching, her walls tightening around him. “Say it.” He prayed her again.
She took his hand, kissing the scar on his skin. “I trust you.” She said at the apex of her pleasure, he buried his face in her neck, following her a second after.
None of them talked after that, any declaration useless in front of what they had just shared; it seemed that the silence could suit better that first encounter, giving it the solemnity it deserved.
Besides, they had always communicated in silence.
He couldn’t stop touching her though, her back warm and still sweaty against his chest, his arms around her body, caressing her breast, her stomach, caressing her everywhere, like he was on a mission to reach every piece of her. His lips danced on her skin too, following the arc of her neck, like delicate feathers, teasing the space behind her ear, kissing her lobe, her hair and then restarting his dance again, relentless. His fingertips caressed the freckles on her back, drawing improbable shapes on her skin until, imagining an invisible ink, he started writing something, two words that had been on the tip of his tongue for too long, but that they couldn’t stay unsaid, or at least unwritten.
Marry me. He wrote on her back, smiling at his own stupid sentimentality.
She shifted in her sleep then and he hoped for a moment that she had guessed his words against her back. He tightened his arms around her in response, pressing his hands on her skin, almost like he was claiming her, even in her dreams.
Except she wasn’t dreaming, he realized. He felt her trembling under his touch, her legs moving slightly between his, drops of sweat on her hairline. “No.” She mumbled, fidgeting in his arms. “Don’t.” She whispered, “don’t leave me.” He felt his heart hammering in response, the sense of guilt tightening his throat. “Shh.” He said in her hair. “I’m here.. I’m here, wench.”
“Jaime..” She called him, but her eyes were still closed. He turned her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “Wake up, wench.. I’m here.” He said, kissing frantically her hair. “I’m not leaving you.”
He felt her fingers gripping his wrist then, her breath heavy on his neck. He cupped her cheek, distancing her from him, to be able to look at her eyes. “Sorry.” She mumbled, lowering her gaze.
He kissed her forehead and then he rested his against hers. “Don’t. I will be here every time you’ll have a bad dream.” He whispered. “I’ll be here, I’ll wake you up and I’ll kiss every fear away, I promise you.”
She nodded faintly, half smiling, then she pressed her lips on his chest, against his heart.
He held his breath, overwhelmed.
When he felt her lips again, he suddenly sat up, taking her with him and making her straddle him, her knees around his hips.
“Jaime..” She said confused.
“Shh.” He said softly, brushing her lips with his fingers. He scanned her body, feeling his erection growing under her, fed by her wetness. He closed the distance between them, hugging her tightly against him. Every inch of his skin glued to hers. “Take me.” He whispered in her ear.
She held her breath, but she didn’t pull away.
“Do whatever you want, take all the pleasure you need, take it from me, use me, please.”
She retreated, searching for his eyes.
“What do you want to do with me? Do you have a fantasy about me? Everything.. just do it, please, I’ll give you all.” He lay down against the pillows and he looked up at her, like he was waiting for her next moves.
She blushed, dismissing his gaze.
He smiled softly, reaching up to tilt her chin with his fingers. “Do it.” He said, looking at her. She hesitated again and he caressed her lips. “Do it, for me.”
He could discern the moment her eyes flared and she started moving, slowly, until, with his help, she put her knees above his shoulders, straddling his face. His breath accelerated, guessing her intentions. Her fingers grabbed the bars of the headboard in front on her and then she lowered herself on his mouth. He moaned against her sex and then his tongue started tasting her.
She was still at the beginning, letting him explore her, learn her taste and make it melt on his tongue, then her hips waved against him, in a shy, but sensual way, like she had always been and he squeezed her ass, bringing her closer. She moaned his name when he entered her with his tongue, her fingers tightening around the bars. When she started moving up and down, he grabbed her hips, following her movements, while his nose brushed against her clit.
Keep saying my name like that.He wanted to tell her, while his erection became painfully hard. He felt her fingers grabbing his hair then, moving his face, sweetly but firmly and he almost protested, already craving her taste again, until she moved his mouth where she needed it the most.
His lips closed around her clit while two fingers slid inside her.
He couldn’t quite catch her moans, realizing with a shock, that his were almost louder.
He wondered if that was the real meaning of love, taking more pleasure in giving it and not receiving it.
He just wanted to reward her selflessness, to fill her with adoration.
His fingers hammered inside her, his lips sucked deeper, at every passing second until she screamed, wetting his beard with her release.
They stayed stilled for a moment, both breathing heavily, until she retreated, blushing once she met his eyes, almost like that spell had momentarily broken.
He raised up, hugging her, feeling the need of reassuring her, her body pressed against his. She was still breathing hard and he tried calming her, caressing her back. “Thank you.” He whispered in her ear. “I loved it.”
She retreated, half chuckling. “I should be the one saying that, shouldn’t I?”
He smiled, moving a lock of hair from her forehead. “Oh, but I already know you loved it, wench.”
“Asshole.” She said, slapping his shoulder.
He laughed and then he approached her ear again. “You know why I loved it? Because I love your taste, it’s sweet but strong, like you. I love feeling your legs around me, like I’m trapped and I can’t escape.. it makes me want to stay there forever.” She replied kissing his mouth, their tongues exploring each other until she broke the kiss, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. “I love tasting myself on your lips.” She whispered against his skin. He made a guttural sound in response, raising her face from her hiding place. “Say it again looking at me.”
She sighed, blushing and he chuckled, pushing playfully her forehead with his. “Say it again.”
“I.. I like tasting myself on your lips.” She said, half trembling. “It makes me believe that you’re mine.”
He couldn’t speak for a moment, then when he was about to say something, she spoke again. “Don’t let me sleep tonight.” She whispered. “Keep me awake, please. I don’t.. I don’t want to sleep tonight.” She caressed the tip of his erection, until she took it in her hand, positioning it at her entrance. She adjusted herself, taking him inside her. “Tell me your mine.” She panted.
He kissed her neck, moving slowly inside her. “I’m yours and you are mine.”
They made love two times more that night, every time their encounters became more desperate; the more they get used to each other, the more they needed to accentuate their connection, gluing their bodies until not even a breath of air could pass between them.
The third time he made love to her, he took her from behind, laying behind her, his mouth constantly whispering how he would have never spent another night without her, how there wasn’t any other place he belonged to;
She was home, his home was between her walls.
Where you begin and I’m defined.
The fourth time he surprised her, taking her against the kitchen wall, the glass of water she was holding shattering on the floor. The sound feeding their passion, awakening them again. He pinned her arms above her head, going deeply inside her and she bent her leg around him, naturally.
“Go deeper.” She whispered in his neck. He groaned, sucking her nipples in turn. Her legs started weakening and he tried to hold her up, until yielding to that passion, he made her lie on the floor, bending her legs around his neck.
They came together and he slumped on her, covering her body.
“You are the only man I’ve ever loved in my whole life.” She whispered in his ear.
He let his own tears wetting her hair.
It was finally morning when he woke up, but he didn’t find her in his arms.
It took him a few seconds to realize her side of the bed was empty, just her smell lingering on the pillow. There was a small stain of blood on the sheet where she had slept and he smiled, still unable to process the fact he had been the only man in her life.
He wanted to take her in his arms, but she wasn’t there.
A rush of panic made him almost motionless at the beginning, until he stood up, leaving the bed and pacing around the room, in search of something, he didn’t know what.
The house was empty.
He took his phone, that stupid new thing that he still wasn’t able to use, but didn’t find anything. His feet carried him in the living room where something caught his eyes.
The diary was open on the table and he approached it, almost holding his breath.
Out for a walk, I need to think. X
Her feet had carried her to their usual Cafè, near the port, their place, like she couldn’t take the distance from him, neither when she needed it. The night spent together had been overwhelming as the love she felt for him, that kind of love that made her blind with that blindness that made her question everything once again.
She had realized, in the first rays of the dawn, while she was looking at his sleeping form, that in a blink she would have given him everything.
Did he want everything from her, though?
She wanted a family, she wanted a house, kids, a wedding, in which order, it didn’t really matter. But while she had spent eighteen years waiting for him in an almost total celibacy, he hadn’t and this understandable yet haunting choice was creeping slowly into her mind, mixed with the fact that she had been the one looking for him after his failed wedding, the one taking the first step in his direction while he had been the one leaving her.
She thought about the way he had made love to her all the night then and a contradictory hope filled her heart. While she was duelling with her emotions in front of a cup of strong tea that once she would have probably considered undrinkable, her phone rang.
-“Ok, I deserved it.”
-“This is not a game.”
-“I know it’s not, you nearly killed me, wench. Was it a kind of revenge? A punishment?”
She sighed in the phone.-“I just.. I needed to think.”
-“I think.. I think we’re not on the same page, Jaime.”
He spoke after some seconds of silence. -“Are you serious?”
-“Of course I am.”
-“Wench, we are exactly at the same page, besides I am a really fast reader now.”
She could hear his breath through the phone and how much that call was affecting him in turn. For a moment she could also hear his affection, his love, melting her fears just with a phone call.
-“You’re beautiful first thing in the morning.. you should never wear make up, like now.”
-“Did you take a shirt from my closet? If you loosen one more button you will kill me here.”
Her words died in her throat when she looked out the window, seeing him smiling at her, leaning on his motorbike, phone in hand, biting his bottom lip in that irritating way she loved.
-“You’re really predictable, sometimes.” He said.
-“Thanks. Just what a girl wants to hear.”
-“What does a girl want to hear?”
They were looking at each other through the window.
She hesitated for some seconds before answering. -“I want you to be my boyfriend, I want.. I want us to be exclusive.”
He frowned in false disappointment. -“I’ll say goodbye to my others dates then.”
-“I’m serious, Jaime. I want a family.”
-“You are my family.”
Her heart bit faster and she gripped her phone tightly, unable to look away from him.
-"I want pizza and movie night, every week.”
-“Ok, but I want a strip tease night in exchange, every week.”
-“And you in heels and garter.. and nothing else.”
Her eyes widened, fixing his. -“Lower your voice.”
He chuckled and she couldn’t help but laugh too. -“I want a cat.”
-“Ugh, I was hoping for a dog, but a cat is ok.. a big cat.”
-“And a family, Jaime.. I’m serious.”
He paused, his eyes softening. -“Me, you and the big cat.”
She sighed in the phone. -“I mean kids, Jaime. I want kids, two kids.”
She saw him shaking his head and she held her breath. -“You’re right, Brienne, we’re clearly not on the same page.”
She clutched the phone in her hand, escaping his gaze.
-“Seriously, wench.. two? I want four.. at least..to begin with.”
She raised her eyes, not hiding her relief. -“I can’t do four, Jaime.” She said, now smiling.
-“You’re right, you can do better than that.. five? Six, maybe.”
She laughed out loud, gaining reproachful looks from the people around her.
He chuckled in the phone. -“You’re always so loud, aren’t you?”
She looked for some seconds at him trough the window, and then she left her table, exiting the Cafè. They were still holding their phones when she stopped a few steps from him.
-“Five kids and a big cat running after peacocks in the meadows of Tarth, I can already see that." He said in the phone.
-“Yes, another thing.. I won’t live here, I mean I can’t live here, this city has some memories that.. I mean I also want to.. wait, what did you just say?”
-"Five kids and a big cat.” He said, smiling and closing the distance between them.
He ended the call and he took her phone from her fingers.
“You would live in Tarth?” She asked in a whisper.
He nodded, brushing away a tear from the corner of her eyes. “I would live on the fucking Wall with you.”
She opened her mouth and then she closed it, unsure. “Jaime.. there’s.. there’s a last thing.”
He hushed her gently, pressing his fingers on her lips. “Let me do something, won’t you?”
She frowned in confusion, until he took something from his motorbike’s saddle, giving it to her. She looked at it, recognizing her diary.
“Open it.” He said softly.
Her fingers were shaking, until his eyes guided her actions, somehow, like she was under his silent command.
She opened her diary, looking on a blank page.
It was blank, except for two words:
Five months later, Saint Duncan’s Church, Tarth.
He tightened his tie more firmly around his neck, feeling his beating going wild under his fingertips. He looked around, smiling at the familiar faces he found. They had opted for a small ceremony, some friends, some relatives, his brother. His father wasn’t there and he was actually relieved, even if one of the promises he had made to Brienne was to fix things with him one day and he loved to keep his promises now, especially the ones he made to her.
There were freesias and pomegranates decorating the church, he closed his eyes, inhaling the inebriating smell. Violins were playing in the background the song he had chosen, ignoring her protests about him being sickeningly romantic.
He was, but just with her, she still needed to understand that.
You fill up my senses, like a night in the forest.
Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain.
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.
He hummed the song, trying to fight that irrational hint of nervousness.
His eyes were still closed when he sensed her presence.
He smiled, opening them and she was there.
Her dress was simple, a white lacy corset with a generous v neckline she knew that he loved on her, showing just that hint of porcelain skin that made him insane; the skirt was plain, in light tulle.
The white of her dress almost mingled with her skin.
Her hair was tied in a messy way, with locks cascading around her face;
She seemed a painting.
She didn’t wear make up, except for a layer of lipstick on her lips.
It was the colour of pomegranates.
Her eyes though, had never been more blue.
He wanted to scream it all around the church, the isle, the world.
I’m starting to believe it. She had told him weeks ago while they were making love under the stars, under their constellations, on the terrace of their new house.
He had kept saying it her every time she had panted his name against his lips.
Everything turned blurry for a moment, everything, but not her eyes, stubborn magnetic oceans, until he blinked, releasing the tears.
She smiled at him.
It seems to me sometimes, that we’ve been made to look at each other’s eyes.
He had written at her months ago.
He met her eyes then, knowing he would have never looked away.