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Brienne is no stranger to conversations with his eyes, but this feels like nothing she has read in them before.
Jealousy rules, his intoxication pushing it up to its peak, the crumbling walls of their inhibitions fueling the flames of his passion until they soar sky-high.
Once the prick of her first pain fades away, there’s nothing holding them back. With every kiss, he writes her name on her flushed skin. With every shove of his hips into hers, he buries himself deeper, his thumb teasing, pressing, pinching. Her heart is thudding against his, blood gushing through her veins furiously, threatening to break free of its winding pathway.
“Yes,” she gasps, when his tongue allows her time to breathe.
Jabbing her heels hard into his flesh, she urges him closer, throwing herself into his kisses. Every hair on his beard she wants on her skin, tickling, rubbing. With every inch of his arousal pumping into her, she wants this sensation to leap up a notch. She wants him to possess her; from the lips he plunders with his to the last inch of her flesh he touches; from the heartbeat that dances to his rhythm to the deepest corner of her consciousness.
She draws in her breath, her hips tossed off the bed as he crashes into her. This is new, but why does this feel familiar? This is his sweat, but why does it feel like it belongs on her?
Yours, says every inch of her, when they step into this world that's elsewhere. And you are mine.
Will he always be hers, though?
This is not the moment for that, she realizes, when Jaime pulls away and collapses on the bed. Soft snores fill the room when this mad surge of lust paves the way for fatigue and contentment and what remains of his intoxication.
It is wise to let this night pass. There will always be tomorrow for promises and more.
+++++
Kisses kissed with passion and heat he lays on her mouth this time. And his fingers assert their right first before he will let her have the pleasure of his cock.
Not just her mouth, he lavishes her breasts with his attention, tongue leaving her nipples sore and needy. A finely skilled lover, he works her cunt, aiming to corner her from all sides, her senses, his to command.
But not just her body, he claims all of her.
Her sighs are not enough. He needs more than her moans. With every harsh exhalation of his name, he tugs harder, striking her with intense bolts of so much she cannot describe, every hoarse cry driving him along a curving path to the depths she knows not herself.
And when he leaves her shaking like a leaf, a finger bathed in her release brushes the edge of her mouth.
“I’m glad I came to Winterfell,” he says, his lips leaving her nipple to drift up to hers.
Those are his only words. Kisses are all that follow; he’d brought in this night with his lips on hers, with the same burning intensity he brings it to a close.
+++++
“I’ve been wanting to do this since Riverrun,” Jaime admits, bending her over the map table.
The pulse throbbing at her temples, she recalls the barriers between them that day. All the dreams that followed, she remembers, some of them following her to nights no more than a week from now.
Sparks shoot up her nipples when he pins her down. She gasps, gripping the edges. Gods, he feels so big! So full! She reaches behind her, holding him, rocking into him as he pushes into her aching softness. A whimper hits her cold wooden bed when he grinds against her; she needs those burns, the scratching of his chest hair on her smooth back. She needs it hotter, filthier, though she knows anyone might walk in, stray passers-by might overhear—
She gasps when he takes her breath away, teeth scraping the paint off the city she lies over.
Open to the world should it choose to pry on them, this impulsive surrender to lust should feel forbidden, yet when their cries fill the room, it feels like they were always meant for this.
“I dreamed of you, my lady.” His mouth glides down her back. “I still do.”
His passionate confession leaves her blushing; this is one she will treasure until her heart slows down to a nought and her body turns to dust.
+++++
She wants him when his need rests against her thigh, but when he darts between her legs to kiss her molten fire, the want turns into a dire desperation.
His tongue invades to conquer; cunt to nipples to the farthest end of her mind, he strives to achieve what he’s striding towards.
His parched lips latching on to her, he sucks with wanton purpose, and her fingers curling around her crumpled her sheets, she grabs what she can, holding on, holding tightly. He bites to aggravate, and she bites on her lip. He licks and thrusts; she is his supper tonight. She struggles and moans, but he holds her down, slowly taking her apart.
She’s sore from all their fucking; she’s tender; but she cries for him to go faster.
All she knows after that is she’s jerking and twisting, sucking in his tongue, then releasing it from her clutches.
Her taste he has for her, when his kisses ascend to her mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he pants, his lips a burning snowflake on hers.
Brienne knows she’s far from that, but she’ll take his compliment tonight.
+++++
He grunts when she fondles his balls; throbs when she kisses down his ample girth. When she licks away the beads of his arousal, her own need cries out to her.
She grinds her thighs together when she strokes him. He gets harder; she gets wetter. She goes back and forth, taking him all in, salt and musk and man. From end to end, she can feel him tauten; with every groan and every grunt, she can tell he wants this sweet suffering.
And she can tell he can bear it no more when he rolls her over and goes for the plunge.
Gods, this is such sweet relief! Or is this just the commencement of what he has in store for her?
His thrusts are wild, the joining of their hips, creaking the bed. His breaths come short and hard; his kisses leave hers matching his.
“Jaime,” she whispers, when he lets her, when she can sense it approaching. Her moment is hot in pursuit, and when it clashes into her a moment later, it binds her tightly to him. After, it passes, like sand through fingers. But time has not yet begun to tick again. It stalls them; holds them there. It won’t budge until—
He swears loudly, coming down on her hot and hard, coming with an explosion.
“I want to stay here with you,” he says, when stiffened limbs relax into a loose embrace. “If you’ll have me.”
Whether it is forever, he does not say, just kissing her tenderly when they lie there, spent. Brienne does not ask. When the time comes, she believes she won’t have to.
Until then, the nights, numbered or not, are theirs. He is hers and she is his.
+++++
There is more to his gaze than what he has for her every night. There’s more to how he holds her than the need for furious coupling. A hidden something, she can make out there is, when his kisses are light and breezy, though the desire still burns bright and high.
He breathes his way to her ear. “Marry me, Brienne.”
This hits her with a suddenness that leaves her blank and dizzy, and before she can let his words travel to her mind, he fills her. Deeply. Completely.
He pounds away with impatience, seeking her answer, his sighs calling for the one thing he craves to hear, the fingers caressing her breast tempting her body to give away a hint or two.
Her arms bringing him closer, she drapes him around herself, driving him further. Her heart speaks to his, lets slip her secrets and uncovers her deepest desires and wildest dreams. She answers with her lips on his, feelings unspoken trickling into his breath. Her thighs shift, cradling him; every crushing thrust, she meets with her reply.
When his eyes tell her that he’s starving for the sound of it, she mouths a soft ‘yes’ against his ear.
What comes after is more than the mating of flesh or the ascension of their sensations, and hotter than the heat of two lovers coming together.
This night will not culminate in her content, yet, thirsting for more. Their union tonight is more than what it has all along been.
This is the moment. This is the later she has been awaiting since their first drunken fuck. It is here now. It will be forever.