Chapter Text
“I knew you'd go back,” Margaery crowed over the phone, not even bothering to say hello first, when Brienne called the next morning.
“You're a very supportive friend.”
“A second helping of Lannister flesh! You're living the dream.”
“Margaery,” Brienne groaned. “I wasn't even sure they'd meant me to come back.”
“Did they?” she asked, her voice more serious. Brienne knew if they'd been cruel in any way Margaery would have found a way to make their lives at least a little hellish. Margaery also came from a wealthy family, though not so wealthy as the Lannisters. Brienne had done her research this week to confirm it, and also to find out more about both of the twins.
Margaery had also been right about the tabloids. There were very few wild, unfounded rumors about the two; almost everything was drenched in fact and reported in staid tones: Tywin Lannister was a self-made man who had lost his wife during the birth of their third child, a boy named Tyrion. Tywin had indulged his children financially after that, and they went to the best private schools, were dressed in designer clothes, were seen at all the most expensive vacation resorts. Jaime had purchased Ignite with money from his trust a few years back, turning it into one of the most popular nightclubs in King's Landing. Tyrion seemed to bounce from job to job within his father's company, and was currently head of their legal team. Cersei had married Robert at a young age and had three children with him and was mostly known for how little was known about her. Brienne thought of how toned and together she was and somehow couldn't imagine that woman with any children, let alone three. But there were a few pictures of her family; Robert a big, thick-chested man that seemed built of solid muscle and Cersei's tow-headed children always dressed to the nines and standing properly in front of her.
Except for the club, Jaime seemed to exist only in relation to the others. There was a story about how he'd helped Tyrion achieve a dream playing in a high school football game; another about how he'd overseen his father's business for a month while Tywin had undergone heart surgery; a different story about how he'd been the one to introduce Robert and Cersei. But nothing about Jaime's life, the women he had dated or dreams that he had held. The absence was noticeable.
“They seemed to be glad I came back,” she told Margaery now. “We went right back to the sex room.”
“You are so lucky to know people with a sex room.”
“I don't really know them,” Brienne protested. “We've spent all of a few hours together at most. Is that weird?”
Margarey scoffed. “Don't overthink this, Brienne. You're only having sex with them, you don't need to know them except for what positions they like best.” She paused. “What positions do they like best?”
Brienne laughed. “I'm going to hang up on you now.”
“Wait, wait. I'm sorry, just tell me this: are they both fully waxed, if you know what I mean?”
Brienne hung up on her friend.
**********
Sunday she met up with Margaery at their usual outdoor cafe for their regular brunch with Loras, though he'd invited his new boyfriend, Renly, as well. Loras was fine-boned and delicately handsome, not actually his sister's twin though he could be based on looks. Renly was tall and strong, bearded, and had laughing eyes that looked like they were made purely for fun, like worry would slide off of him without hooking in its claws. Brienne smiled nervously at him, shaking his hand when they were introduced, but he just took her in with that big, friendly smile and she settled, at ease. She could never tell how someone was going to react to her; even Loras had been less-than-kind when Margaery had first introduced them.
Renly was boisterous and engaging during the meal, pulling Brienne into conversations and laughing at her jokes. He kept his hand on Loras' body, mostly his thigh or his hand, for most of the meal, and whenever Loras talked, Renly would just stare at him like he was watching the sun itself speak. Brienne was charmed and envious and a little sad, knowing no one would ever look at her like that.
She was shoving a big bite of pancakes into her mouth when she heard a clear voice on the air that she had never heard outside of the confines of the club, and Brienne froze.
“Renly Baratheon, is that you?”
Brienne's gaze darted to Margaery, who stared back, her mouth open.
“Jaime Lannister,” Renly was saying, smiling over Brienne's shoulder. “Cersei let you out of the house alone?”
“It happens occasionally,” Jaime said, and Brienne could hear the tightness in his voice. He shifted around so he could take in the whole table and Brienne, who couldn't bring herself to look at his face yet, stared at the sharp crease in his blue slacks, the expensive loafers that hugged his feet. “This must be the new boyfriend Robert was talking about.”
“Yes. His name is Loras,” Renly said, his tone a challenge.
“Pleasure to meet you, Jaime. Renly has told me so much about your family,” Loras said knowingly.
From this close Brienne could see Jaime's body tighten, could feel the tension pouring off of him, but his voice was light. “Robert tells us Renly hardly talks of you at all.”
Brienne choked a little on her pancake and she felt Jaime look down at her and she was unable to keep from looking up, covering her mouth with her hand while she coughed. She could see the sudden surprise on his face at realizing it was her and then as though he couldn't contain it, a wide smile split his handsome features.
“Brienne!” he said. “I didn't know you knew Renly.”
“I-I don't,” she gasped, drinking down water, knowing she was as red as the berries on her pancakes. Oh gods how was she going to explain this away?
“She's here with me,” Margaery said archly, holding out her hand to Jaime. “Margaery Tyrell.”
Jaime took her hand, kissed the top. “Jaime Lannister. A pleasure, my lady.”
“Mm, we'll see,” Margaery said, and Jaime laughed a little.
“How do you two know each other?” Renly asked curiously, and Brienne took another long drink of water even though her stomach was already sloshing. She glanced up at Jaime, who was considering her.
“We met through my sister. They met at a party,” he said and Brienne could have melted into the floor from relief. “Well, don't let me interrupt your meal, Tyrion is waiting for me at our table. Renly, good to see you. Loras, Margaery, nice to meet you.” He turned to face Brienne and she felt captured by his warm eyes, so bright and alive in the sunshine. “Brienne. Cersei and I will see you on Friday, I hope?”
Brienne wondered if she could die of embarrassment, though she knew only Margaery knew what Jaime was referring to. She didn't trust herself not to croak like a frog when she talked so she just nodded her head and gave him a quick, tight smile.
“Wonderful,” he said, smiling again, then he tapped his fingers to his forehead in goodbye and left them alone.
“What a horrid man,” Loras said, clearly still not over Jaime's dig. “I can't believe you'd willingly spend time with him or his sister, Brienne.”
“Just ignore him,” Renly said. “That family's so rich he never had to learn social graces like the rest of us.”
Margaery was watching Brienne carefully, but Brienne just focused on the last of her meal and steadfastly said nothing at all.
“You do talk about me, don't you?” Loras pouted.
“Of course I do, my sweet. Robert just doesn't listen, you know how he is.” Loras nodded a little and let Renly clasp his hand, kissing each finger and apologizing between each kiss. Margaery caught Brienne's attention and rolled her eyes dramatically, and Brienne smiled.
Though Jaime didn't return for the remainder of their brunch, she could hear his voice every once in awhile in the natural lull of conversations and cafe noise, and every time the hairs on her arm would shiver, like he'd blown over them himself.
**********
Margaery left the brunch with Brienne, walking back to her bus stop and leaving Loras and Renly to head home and likely have lots of post-meal sex based on how they were looking at each other.
“That was a surprise,” Margaery said after a minute.
“Indeed,” Brienne said. She'd tried to catch another glimpse of Jaime when they'd left, but couldn't find his table.
“So is this Friday thing like a regular date now?”
Brienne shrugged. “Honestly I don't know. I don't know what we're doing.”
“Three Fridays in a row, all on invitation. Sounds kind of like you're dating.”
“We're not dating, we're having sex,” she said, dropping her voice on the last word.
“What do you think people do on dates, Brienne?” Margaery said, smiling.
“Talk! Eat a meal! Go see a film!” Brienne shrugged. “Something that involves clothes being on.”
“Are you gonna ask them out?”
“Absolutely not. I wasn't even sure I was going to go this Friday.”
“Really?” Margaery said, her voice dripping with disbelief.
Brienne's cheeks went warm. “I mean, maybe just this one last time. But then I'll tell them I can't do this anymore. It's too weird.”
The bus arrived and they sat quietly for the ride and Brienne thought Margaery had let it drop until their feet touched sidewalk again and she rounded on Brienne on the quiet street. “Is it weird because they're brother and sister or because you feel like you don't deserve it?”
“What?”
“You heard me, and I'm not walking to my stop until you answer my question.”
“Then you're going to just have to follow me home,” Brienne said, heading off. Margaery marched next to her, glaring and silent. After a few minutes Brienne grumbled and said, “because I'm tall and ugly and too much. He's going to get tired of me and realize that.”
“He?” Brienne ducked her head and Margaery stopped, grabbed her arm. “You're none of those things. Well, you're tall, that's true. But the rest of it? No way.”
“Look at my face and then look at their faces.”
“Who cares about their faces? Are you spending a lot of time just sitting around staring at each other?” Brienne blushed hotly. “It's just sex. Enjoy it and then when you're done, be done. But don't talk yourself out of something you're having fun with just because you're worried about some wild thing that might happen.”
“Easy for you to say, no one's ever thrown you off.”
“You think I don't feel inadequate sometimes? People only see how I look. The reason no one dumps me is because I dump them first before they think my personality sucks too much.”
Stunned, Brienne shook her head. “You can't be serious. Margaery. You're amazing.”
“That's how I feel about you, Brie. Maybe believe me for once. Now come on,” she wrapped her arm through Brienne's and tugged her around in the opposite direction. “We need to get you some new underwear for this.”
**********
That Friday when Brienne walked in the door and over to the bar, Pod waved at her and said “your drink is already paid for and waiting for you at the table, my lady.”
Brienne frowned, glanced over to the booth and saw Jaime lift up what looked like a cosmopolitan. “Thanks,” she said, pulling out a couple of crisp bills and handing them to Pod. That was from her emergency fund, but she wasn't going to not tip him, even if they'd paid for his drink. Brienne had grown up with wealthier families, her own being well-off enough to rub elbows with them in their social circles, and in her experience they were shit tippers for the most part. She suspected that was why her father had not allowed her to live off of their money or even borrow from it except in case of emergency. He'd preached incessantly to her growing up about earning her own way and the benefits of hard work, and when she'd decided to move to the city he'd kissed her, wished her well, and given her a photo of them together on the docks and just enough money to pay for the trip out there.
Pod pushed the money back to her. “It's all been covered,” he was saying. “The Lannisters are excellent tippers. You can keep it.”
“Oh, all right then,” Brienne said, stuffing the bills back in her little purse. She took a steadying breath and walked to the booth. “Good evening,” she said, standing in front of them. She was wearing a black cocktail dress Margaery had talked her into buying in addition to the rose-red, lacey panties and bra she had on underneath. They itched a little, but she clamped her hands together over her purse.
Jaime took her in, a long, slow up and down that made Brienne feel like she was already naked, and she was grateful it was darker here by the booths. Cersei just watched her with those calculating predator eyes, and her lips, bright pink today to set off the pink stripes on the tight skirt she wore, pulled into a thin smile. She didn't look happy to see Brienne, in sharp contrast to Jaime.
“Sit,” Cersei said, making room next to her on the booth. Brienne slid in, took a long drink of her cosmo. “Brienne Tarth,” she said, and Brienne looked up, startled. She hadn't given them her last name.
“We got nosy,” Jaime said. “And you're easy to pick out of a crowd.”
Brienne looked down at her big hands, the nails she had forgotten to paint. “I guess I should have told you my last name anyway.”
“Yes, if we're going to keep doing this,” Cersei said.
“If?” Brienne squeaked.
“I'm interested,” Jaime said, glaring at Cersei. “What my sister does is up to her.”
“I didn't say I wasn't interested,” Cersei sniffed.
Something strange had happened between them since last Friday, but Brienne couldn't figure out what it was. Jaime wasn't sitting as near Cersei, he had his arms to himself instead of hanging around her shoulders. Did Cersei blame Brienne for the distance that was between them? The emotional landmines she'd worried about that first night seemed to be uncovering themselves. Brienne downed the rest of her cosmopolitan and resolved this was going to have to be the last time between them.
But by the time she was sweating and shaking on the bed, Cersei's fingers deep in her cunt and Jaime's cock in her mouth, Brienne knew she couldn't stop this if they were still interested. Whatever Cersei was like when she wasn't in this room, once the door closed she became a force intent only on making Brienne completely unravel before her, whether by directing Jaime to do it or by doing it herself. Her nails were sharp on Brienne's skin, little points digging into Brienne's clit and pushing through the soft clenching wetness of Brienne's cunt, but it didn't hurt – or else it hurt in just the right way. Jaime's cock was hard and soft at once and Brienne's big lips fit perfectly around him. When he wove his fingers in her hair and held on tight, she moaned around him and he stuttered in her mouth, coming hard and fast until it dripped from her chin and Cersei plunged her fingers into Brienne's cunt and got herself off with her other hand. Her orgasms were always held between her tightly pressed lips, but Brienne could still hear her quiet little gasps. Tonight Brienne was loud around Jaime's softening cock as her own orgasm overtook her, and she drowned out Cersei entirely.
Cersei was up and off the bed as quickly as ever after she'd stilled, and Jaime stayed leaning against the headboard and gestured for Brienne to lay her head down on his thigh. She did, pressing her nose against the hairs between his legs and making him shiver.
They sat like that in silence, their breathing synchronizing again, until Cersei came out of the shower and took them in with a single, impenetrable glance. “Next Friday, then,” she said simply, and then strode imperiously from the room.
Against her cheek, Brienne felt Jaime's whole body relax, and he brought his hand up to her arm, rubbed down it. “It was nice seeing you out of the club,” he said.
“I was surprised,” Brienne admitted.
“A good surprise, hopefully?”
Brienne shrugged under his hand. “You didn't give me away, which I appreciate.”
Jaime's hand stilled on her arm. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you didn't tell them we met having a threesome,” she said, smiling against his leg. “Gods, Loras would have been scandalized.”
“Seems like Loras could use a little scandal,” he muttered, his fingers rubbing the line of her back. “What an arrogant prick.”
“He gets better once you get to know him.”
“Not sure it's worth the effort.”
“Jaime,” Brienne sighed, and then she bit her lip. This was only sex, what did it matter what he thought of Loras?
“Brienne,” he said, mimicking her. She shifted to look up at him, past his round, pink nipples, across his lightly furred chest – he did not in fact shave all over – past his chiseled jaw to her favorite part of him, his lively, teasing green eyes. When Cersei was gone, it was as though Jaime transformed, became almost too much himself, more a puppy than a lion. Brienne was coming to understand the greatest danger was this version of Jaime, for he would trip her heart up without even realizing it.
“Margaery didn't seem very impressed with me either,” he continued.
“Margaery isn't impressed with anyone she first meets. Although she obviously does know how we met.”
“You'll have to thank her for me. I don't think you would've come with us if she hadn't been there to convince you.”
“We'll never know, I guess.”
Jaime's hand tightened against her arm for a moment, like he wanted to hold on, but then his fingers went flat and smooth again. “Good thing,” he murmured. “The sunlight suits you, you know. Your eyes are so blue in the sun.” Brienne pressed her crooked nose into Jaime's thigh and exhaled slowly. He was lethal in every way. She should get up and get out of there and never come back.
“I got them from my mother,” she said instead.
“You should thank her, too.”
“She died when I was little,” Brienne said quietly, and Jaime went still, then wrapped his hand over the top of hers where she had rested it on his knee.
“So did mine,” he said.
“I know. I researched you, too, to be sure you weren't a serial killer,” Brienne said, trying to lighten the mood. She could feel Jaime's chuckle against her cheek.
“What did you discover?”
“That if you are in fact a serial killer you haven't been suspected of it yet. And that you are in fact very rich.” She rolled so she was straddling his thighs now, her elbows on either side of his legs, her chin resting in her palms. Jaime was grinning down at her.
“Is that all?”
“Everything else I need to know I've discovered myself,” she said, eying his still soft cock appreciatively. It twitched.
“So you only want me for my money and my cock?” he said, sounding offended, though his face was alight. “I should be insulted.”
“But you're not.”
“No, I'm not.” He opened his mouth and then shut it again, and though he smiled, his eyes were dark. “You know Sandor thinks you're going to get sick of us. Or at least me.”
“Who's Sandor?”
“Our guard dog out there. He said if you do, he wants me to introduce you two.”
“What?” Brienne said, laughing a little. “Why?”
Jaime lifted his eyebrows. “You're exactly his type.”
“Oversized and mannish?” Brienne asked, automatically retreating to the two adjectives she always used to describe herself.
“No,” Jaime said, looking genuinely confused. “Tall and sexy as hell.” Brienne looked away, her whole body heating. “That first night he said he couldn't believe someone like you would agree to have sex with me. He figured it must have been Cersei's doing. I told him it probably was, but I would happily draft off of her success. Anyway, when you are done with my money and my cock, you've got a fan waiting for you.”
Brienne couldn't imagine ever getting sick of Jaime, but she nodded, playing along. Honesty here would only make their inevitable dissolution of whatever this was hurt more. “It shouldn't be too long,” she said lightly, sitting up. “But let's see how well you wash my back, that might buy you more time.”
He stalked after her to the bathroom and when he slid into her from behind, talking about how much he liked hearing her moaning for him, the water on her cheeks fell like tears.