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Chapter Text

It was, ultimately, Margaery's fault.

'Fault' was probably too strong a word, Brienne admitted to herself as she was jostled on both sides at the bar. 'Doing' was probably more appropriate. Nonetheless, she would not have been here on a Friday night in a skirt that would have been too short on a normal sized woman, with darkly lined eyes and lips so red she was worried about looking like a clown, unless Margaery had dragged her.

“Only a sexy clown,” Margaery had reassured her as she'd applied the thick lipstick in Brienne's small apartment. “You will definitely get laid tonight.”

“Oh gods, Margaery!” Brienne had said covering her face with her hands.

“Stop that, you'll smear it before we even get there. No smearing unless it's on someone's face!”

Brienne had shrieked, half-mortified, half-laughing, but had dropped her hands and let Margaery finish her careful applications and then shove a handful of condoms in Brienne's too small purse.

Brienne had been on two dates in two years and they'd both ended badly; not traumatizing, but disappointing and with exactly zero fizzle. Her job was a bland routine, her apartment was cramped and the radiator never worked right, and though she spent time keeping herself in shape, Brienne's clothes and makeup were, to put it kindly, uninspired. She wasn't unhappy, but she wasn't enthusiastic about her life, either. Margaery had decided that what Brienne needed to liven things up was a one-night stand and Brienne had not been able – or, as she'd quietly admitted to herself in the bathroom mirror, willing – to argue.

Now Brienne was here at the bar, alone, while her friend was out smearing her own makeup with some man on the dance floor. No one had approached her yet and she was not nearly drunk enough to approach someone else so she tugged her skirt down again to no avail and then used her elbows to finally get to the bar. A dark-haired, round-cheeked young man who did not look like he was old enough to be working there smiled tiredly at her as she gripped the edge of the glowing bartop, the neon blue making them both look ghostly.

“Welcome to Ignite. What can I get you, my lady?”

Brienne flushed but he seemed sincere. Sincere enough to earn a good tip, at least. She wanted a water, but knowing Margaery would just annoy her about it once she came back, Brienne asked for a cosmopolitan and shoved her credit card after.

“Open a tab?” he asked over the pounding music.

“No,” she said firmly. The young man shrugged and while she signed the receipt he fixed her drink, setting it down in front of her shortly after.

The music rotated and so did the lights and she spotted Margaery pushing her way out of the crowd, laughing. She came up to Brienne and grabbed the drink, taking a gulp and pushing her sweaty hair from her face.

“Where's your friend?” Brienne asked, looking for the man Margaery had gone onto the floor with.

“Oh who knows,” she said, pointing at the cosmo to the bartender and then holding up two fingers.

“I didn't start a tab,” Brienne said.

“I'll get them.” She handed Brienne back the drink and looked up, beaming. “Are you having fun? Have you danced?”

“No dancing yet,” Brienne said, side-stepping the first question. Was she having fun? She stared out at the dance floor, bathed in a riot of neon colors that ebbed and flowed over the packed crowd. It was loud in here, and hot, and everyone else certainly seemed to be having a good time. There were booths, but those were taken by two bachelorette parties and several couples who should probably be in hotel rooms, not public clubs.

“You should get out there, Brie,” Margaery said. She accepted the drinks with a bright smile that left the young bartender blushing. Margaery had started a tab, of course, though Brienne imagined she only ever had to pay for half her drinks at most anyway. They'd been out together enough that Brienne had seen how the other half lived, and beautiful women kept their wallets closed a lot more frequently than women like Brienne.

Ugly women, Brienne thought, sighing as two men stared at them and shoved each other, clearly trying to saddle the other with her while they wanted Margaery for themselves.

“Hey,” Margaery said, tugging Brienne's arm. Brienne was wearing a sparkly halter top that showed a strip of her thick waist and all of her shoulders and long arms, and tricked the eye into believing she might actually have breasts under there. She'd been freezing out in the night air but Margaery had been right, she would have sweltered in here in anything with sleeves.

“What?” Brienne said, wincing when someone elbowed her in the stomach as he pushed past to the bar.

“Those two are checking us out.”

“Yeah I know, they're trying to figure out which guy gets lucky and which guy gets me.”

Margaery made a disapproving noise but then tugged her arm again. “Not those two,” she said, “although you are totally wrong. But those two.” She gestured with her head and Brienne followed Margaery's line of sight. She'd been looking almost 180 degrees the opposite way, to a far wall of the club where more half-moon booths sat in alternating light and shadow. Brienne frowned until she saw who Margaery was gesturing at. The most attractive man and woman Brienne had ever seen in her life sat next to each other in the back of one. They were both blond and both sharply featured, though the woman's were finer. They both had the same half-smirk on their faces, lips that looked like they knew how to cut and to kiss. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders but it didn't look like ownership as much as solidarity, and with the easy grace with which they leaned back in the seats and were staring out at the rest of the club, Brienne was struck with the feeling they were nothing so much as lions surveying their kingdom. They were surveying Brienne and Margaery most intently right this minute, and the man lifted his drink their way.

“Do you know them?” Brienne asked, her voice disturbingly breathless.

“Nope. We should go over and introduce ourselves.”

“No way,” Brienne said. The woman was watching her now with a perfectly arched eyebrow that was the dictionary definition of “come hither.” She looked stunning and terrifying and Brienne was certain if they were within ten feet of each other Brienne would look exactly like the clown Margaery had told her she wasn't.

Margaery downed her cosmo and lifted her chin. “Well I'm going over.”

“Margaery!” Brienne hissed, but her friend just waved her off and headed towards the table. Brienne drank the last of her cosmo quickly, too nervous to try to sip it and make it last. Even at her size, alcohol had a startlingly sudden effect on Brienne when she took it in too quickly. Margaery was talking with the pair of lions, looking like a confident, dark-haired gazelle leaning towards them, not even realizing how much danger she was in. The man kept looking past Margaery at Brienne, keeping that predator smile aimed her way. Brienne allowed herself a brief moment to imagine him naked and smiling at her like that still, and she got so flustered she tossed back her second cosmo as well.

Margaery glanced back then, too, looking surprised, and then she was talking to the couple again. The woman leaned forward and traced one long nail down Margaery's arm, before leaning back against the booth. That apparently was the end of whatever was happening, because Margaery turned and started walking back towards Brienne, her face a conflicted mix of disappointment and excitement.

“What happened?” Brienne asked before Margaery had even stopped moving. Her friend went to grab the second cosmo, saw it was empty already, and laughed a little.

“You're gonna need a third one of those,” she said, gesturing at the bartender again.

“Why?” Margaery held her hand up to stall her and Brienne looked back at the golden-haired couple, saw the woman whispering in the man's ear, her dark red lips millimeters from his skin. Brienne swallowed hard when she glanced Brienne's way out of the corner of her eyes, and those lips pulled into a smile that was not in any way comforting.

“Here,” Margaery said, shoving a shot glass at her. In Brienne's hand it looked like a toy.

“I don't do shots.”

“You should do this one.” Margaery gulped hers down and Brienne glanced at the booth again before drinking hers in a single swallow as well. It burned a line down her throat, reckless and full of fire.

“Now will you tell me? Why are they still looking at you?”

“They're not looking at me, honey. They're looking at you.”

That made zero sense. “What?”

“I found out three things when I went to talk to them.” She pushed another shot into Brienne's hand. “One, they're a matched set, you can't get one without the other. Two, they're here for more than just dancing. And three, they are very interested in making your acquaintance.”

Brienne drank the second shot. This one didn't burn so much as flood her whole body with warmth. “Why me?”

“Uh, why not?” Margaery looked up at her, frowning. “Have you seen yourself? You've got super long, beautiful legs, tons of creamy skin, and your eyes are fucking incredible.”

Flushing deeply, Brienne set the empty shot glass down and blinked hard. “Stop it.”

“No way. We came to get you laid, and you are about to get propositioned by what appear to be twin gods.”

“Do you think they're brother and sister?”

Margaery tilted her head and stared at them. The man held out his empty hand, waiting. “Does it really matter?” she said.

“Well, yes,” Brienne said, but it seemed to matter less by the second, especially as the man and woman slid out of the booth, revealing themselves to be athletic and golden skinned in the lights that danced over their bodies. The woman was wearing a deep red minidress that matched her lipstick and her four-inch heels, and it looked like she didn't so much put it on as paint it on. The man was wearing black leather pants and a half-red, half-gold silk shirt that clung to his every well-defined muscle as he moved. And oh how they moved. Brienne couldn't shake the feeling she was being stalked as they sauntered her way.

“Better make up your mind quick,” Margaery said quietly, the words almost getting lost in the music. “Have fun, use the condoms, call me immediately after you're done. Love you!” she said, losing herself in the crowd again.

“Wait,” Brienne hissed. “Wait!” But Margaery waved and was gone and the pair were in her face now. Brienne swallowed hard as she took them in. Up close they were even more unfairly attractive, their gazes even more captivating. “Um, hello,” she said.

The man's smile turned amused, his green eyes warm as he looked her up and down. “Hello,” he said in a voice that could heat up even Brienne's freezing apartment.

The woman touched Brienne's arm with gentle fingers, but her nails were sharp points on Brienne's skin, ready to dig in and hold her there while the two of them devoured her. Brienne shivered a little. “What's your name?” the woman asked. Her eyes were also green but hot, not warm, her voice smooth and sure and silky.

“Brienne,” she said hoarsely.

“Did your friend give you our message?”

“She said you wanted to meet me,” Brienne managed. She'd had four drinks, how could her mouth still be this dry?

The man chuckled and it sounded like a lion's rumble. “Yes, we did want to meet you, Brienne.” The way he said her name sounded like honey dripped on skin.

“Would you dance with us?” the woman asked, her fingers tightening the smallest amount, the nails making tiny indents on her arm. Brienne looked around, but Margaery was nowhere to be found.

“Me?”

“You don't have to, if you don't want,” the man said, and the woman's hand relaxed until Brienne felt like she was free to turn away and the lions would let her live another day. What kind of life would it be, though, if she had to sit in her tiny, cold apartment wondering if they may have actually been interested? These two could have any person in this club but here they were, downright leering at her.

Margaery's makeup and too-short skirt couldn't hide her big teeth or the nose she'd broken as a teenager when she'd played too rough in a game of touch football. Did they just think Brienne would be an easy mark? Was this a serial killer thing? Physically she could take the woman, but the man would be tougher. She didn't remember hearing about any unexpected disappearances or murders in the neighborhood, but what if they moved from place to place? Brienne could hear Margaery's exasperated sigh in her head as her anxiety started to spiral.

“I don't think she's interested,” the woman said, her perfectly full lips smirking.

The man tilted his head and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I think she is,” he said, his voice husky.
“Pod knows us, if you're worried.” He waved at the young man behind the bar, who smiled and waved back. The man looked back at Brienne and his smile was dangerously alluring.

Brienne swallowed. She had come to get laid. And while the woman didn't exactly fill Brienne with trust, there was something genuinely appealing about the man and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled at her. He'd turned down the predator and had turned up the playfulness and she found herself wanting to touch his soft, wavy hair.

“No, I-I'd like to dance. What are your names?”

Silently the woman wrapped her arm around Brienne's and the man took Brienne's hand in his and tugged them all to the dance floor. The crowd, what Brienne had thought was a mindless, writhing mass, moved out of the man's way without him having to even say anything, and when the crowd closed together again after the woman, the three of them were suddenly in the middle of it, where it smelled of sweat and spilled drinks and people who were definitely going to have sex later.

The man put strong hands on Brienne's hips and pulled her nearer, leaning close to whisper, “my name is Jaime.” The woman had already started dancing next to them, her body undulating and moving in ways that suggested she was as comfortable in a bed as she was on the dance floor. Brienne had not thought she was interested in women, but she found herself very interested in the way the woman's hips rolled with the music. “That's Cersei,” he went on, his breath hot against Brienne's neck.

“Oh,” Brienne said. Up close, Jaime's eyes were almost too much, gleaming with a wry, easy confidence. “It's nice to meet you,” she whispered.

Jaime laughed a little and pulled her gently against his body. He was shorter than her, as most men were, and especially with her low heels on, but he'd leaned into her and his lips were right next to her ear, his chest a hard wall pressed against hers. “It is definitely our pleasure,” he purred, and started dancing as well.

Brienne had never considered herself a dancer, though as she slipped her knee in between Jaime's legs, as Cersei moved up behind her and pressed hot against her ass, she had to wonder if it was just because she'd never danced with anyone before. The pair didn't keep to the rhythm but rather defined it and, tipsy and loose on the drinks she'd so quickly consumed, Brienne rode along the pulsating beat their bodies set. Jaime's fingers gripped hot and firm at the skin of her waist and when Brienne rested her arms on his shoulders and ground her pelvis against his thigh, the side of his mouth turned up in a sharp, eager smile. She felt Cersei's breasts occasionally brush her mostly bare back and at some point Jaime spun Brienne around so she and Cersei were facing each other. Brienne didn't feel like a clown at all when the other woman licked her red lips and wrapped her arms around Brienne's neck. Even looking down at Cersei, Brienne felt commanded by her, and she moved in time with the other woman while Jaime danced a short distance away, watching them hungrily.

The music melted one song into another, the crowd throbbed and shouted and then Jaime was at Brienne's back, one arm wrapping tight around her waist and pulling her back against him so his erection pressed against her ass.

“Oh gods,” Brienne gasped softly but Cersei must have heard because she smiled knowingly and moved closer to press against' Brienne's front.

“We don't just have to dance,” Cersei said and though her voice was low Brienne felt it curl through her belly. Her whole body was burning and moving without her even thinking about it. She rubbed her ass back against Jaime's hard length and he groaned low into the side of her sweaty neck, making her knees weak. Cersei lifted a perfect eyebrow, trailing those long nails around Brienne's shoulder and down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Jaime shifted against her to press deeper into the crack of her ass and he mouthed the curve of her neck and Brienne gasped, “ok, yes,” desperate heat surging between her legs.

Cersei flicked a finger across Brienne's nipple and Brienne arched a little towards the other woman, still confined by Jaime's arm.

“Jaime,” Cersei said in a commanding tone, and Brienne felt him look up from where his mouth had been pressed wet and hot against her. His hair tickled her ear. Cersei grabbed Brienne's left hand and pulled her a little. “Let's go.”

He nodded and loosened his grip and when Brienne stepped away after Cersei she turned to look back at him a moment and suddenly couldn't breathe. His golden hair was dark with sweat, his skin glowing with it. His erection was impossible to miss in his tight pants but the way he stood there, arms on his hips, his eyes burning as he watched her, it only made him look more like a god. Brienne was pretty sure she'd worship at any altar to him if she had the chance. She'd never had a man look at her the way he was watching her disappear after Cersei now: with the certain, steady knowledge he was going to enjoy fucking her soon.

Cersei pulled her through the club to the back where she nodded at a beast of a man standing at a semi-hidden door. His face was half-burned and he was glaring at the world as they walked by. When he met Brienne's gaze for a moment there was a flash of surprise but he shuttered it quickly and turned back to the crowd. Brienne was not exactly sober but she wasn't exactly drunk either, and she was aware enough to be startled to find herself in a plushly decorated room with a huge bed against the wall but not aware enough to figure out why it was here.

Cersei dropped her hand and turned to face her and it went suddenly quiet when the door closed behind them. The bass came through still, a muffled beating, like they were inside a heart. But now Brienne could also hear her own rapid breathing, loud and awkward as an elephant. This had to be a trick, some terrible joke that was now coming to its end.

Jaime's hands rested on Brienne's waist again, making her jump.

“Sorry,” he murmured near her neck.

“'S'ok,” she mumbled, and then words deserted her as Jaime started kissing her shoulder. There was nothing funny or mean in the way his tongue traced the line of her shoulder blade; there was no hesitation when Cersei unzipped the side of her tight dress and as though she'd spoken a magic word, it slipped to the floor, leaving her in lingerie and heels. She had beautiful breasts, was Brienne's first thought, and a smooth waist and round hips that curved down to golden legs. Her lingerie was the same color as her dress and shoes and lips and for a fleeting moment Brienne wondered if her pubic hair would be that color, too.

“Let her get comfortable first, Jaime,” Cersei said in a tone that was all command and no suggestion. He stopped kissing her and Brienne bit down on the whine that threatened to escape at the loss. Jaime came around in front of her and Brienne glanced between him and Cersei. This light was muted, but it was steady, and without the alternating light and shadow of the club's illumination, Brienne could see the shocking similarities between them.

“Are you...twins?” Brienne squeaked, feeling her face go hot.

Cersei and Jaime looked at each other in such a complicated mix of love and anger that Brienne suddenly realized she was in dangerous territory here, though not for the reason she'd first feared. Physically she was certain her body would be taken care of in a way she could never have imagined, but if she weren't extremely careful, she would throw herself on some emotional landmine she could never be prepared for.

“We are,” Jaime said carefully, and he was looking at her again with a much more direct stare of desire. Brienne had seen that look dozens of times, but always for Margaery, never for her.

“My dear brother has never approved of the partners I pick,” Cersei said, and Brienne dragged her gaze to the other woman, was surprised to see a mirror of the desire in Jaime's eyes also directed her way. Whatever magic Margaery had wrought with her make-up had apparently been more potent than Brienne had thought.

“My sweet sister has returned the favor,” Jaime said tightly and suddenly Brienne was worried she wasn't here as herself, but as a proxy between whatever war they were fighting. She held up her hands as a barrier.

“I don't think I should do this,” she said, and Cersei moved towards her, linked one of her hands in Brienne's.

“It's not what you think,” she said archly, her golden hair loose and curling around her face. Brienne glanced at Jaime, was pierced by his obvious surprise. What was going on here? Cersei moved between Brienne's arms and Brienne could suddenly smell her, some dark and sultry scent that she wasn't convinced was just perfume. “You're the first person we've ever agreed on,” she murmured, pressing her soft lips to Brienne's shoulder, just under where Jaime had been kissing her.

Brienne licked her own lips, tasted lipstick. “I'm...confused.”

“We make a game of it,” Cersei said into Brienne's skin. “I pick women for him to fuck, he tries to convince me of others. There are always so many to choose from, but they're all the same.” Cersei moved to her other shoulder and kissed there, too, and when Brienne looked down the red lipstick on her skin looked like bitemarks. “Boring,” Cersei whispered, her hands coming up around Brienne's neck again. Brienne's hands twitched at her sides and she brought her free one up to rest in the curve of Cersei's hip, her fingers long enough to splay across the thin fabric barely covering Cersei's ass.

“I'm not interesting,” Brienne protested weakly. Though if she went through with this, this story would be the most interesting of her life.

Jaime came closer then, having removed his shirt while Brienne was distracted by his sister. Without it he looked even more like a lion, his muscles flexing sinuously under his golden skin. Brienne's body ached towards him and Cersei squeezed her hand tightly, her other hand coming up around the side of Brienne's neck possessively. Jaime came up behind Brienne again and hovered a few inches away, his fingers brushing at the tie to her halter top.

“You're interesting to us,” he said softly, and she felt the tie loosen. If she was going to stop this, it had to be now.

Brienne looked down at Cersei, who'd brought both her hands up to rest on her shoulders, who had cat eyes that knew they had cornered their prey. She felt Jaime's heat burning her up from behind, the soft pads of his fingers at her spine, waiting for Brienne to give in.

“I'm not a game,” she said, her voice gratifyingly firm.

“Sex is always a game,” Cersei said in a tone so odd and distant Brienne almost felt sorry for her. “But there doesn't have to be a loser. Play with us tonight, Brienne, and we'll show you.”

Brienne was so far out of her depth here she was surprised she could breathe. Whatever strange rules these two had, she didn't know them or what was at stake. But when Jaime kissed the middle of her back just below the knot of her halter top, she realized she didn't care. For one night she could turn off her boring, simple life and pretend to be a woman who could be desired. Her eyes fluttered closed and she nodded in assent, lifting her chin and her throat to the lions.

In a breath Jaime undid her halter top and it slipped down and laid her breasts bare to Cersei, who cupped them in her hands and smiled.

“So delicate,” she murmured, and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about Brienne's breasts. She tugged indelicately at Brienne's nipples and it made Brienne's whole body throb. At Brienne's back, Jaime left a wet trail of kisses across her shoulders and she shivered when his breath blew across it.

They were tasting her individually, Cersei stroking and teasing her front, Jaime nuzzling and licking down her spine. He tugged the bottom of her halter top down further until it was scrunched around her waist and Brienne wanted to cover herself but Cersei was in the way, smoothing her hands down Brienne's arms before taking one nipple gently between her teeth, a razor thin sharpness that was promise and threat and had Brienne moaning.

“My turn,” Jaime growled, tugging Brienne a step back and she worried Cersei wouldn't let go, but Cersei opened her mouth and Brienne sighed, relieved and disappointed both.

“Take her to the bed,” Cersei commanded, “and take only her panties off.”

Jaime shot Cersei an annoyed look but he pulled Brienne to the bed and she gratefully laid down, not convinced she could have stood much longer on her own. They loomed over her for a minute, eying her like she was dessert as she lay on her elbows, legs tucking up under themselves in protection.

The bed dipped as Jaime knelt down and tugged her legs between his. His hands slid up her bare legs, over her thighs and under her skirt. He glanced up at her under his golden lashes and her insides went liquid. “Ok?” he murmured, and Brienne could only nod, fast, desperate for his fingers to finish their quest.

He slipped his fingers over the thin silk panties Margaery had bought her for just such an occasion, brushing the already wet lips of her cunt through the fabric before tugging her panties down and off of her in a smooth motion.

“Good,” Cersei said, still standing near, rubbing herself through her own panties. “Now lick her until she screams.”

Brienne groaned and threw her head back as he dived under her skirt like he'd been released from a cage. She wondered, briefly, before all rational thought was driven from her mind, if she should have gotten a wax like Margaery had said, but Jaime's nose was pressing against her clit, his tongue was deep in her cunt and she was soon screaming as Cersei had dictated and the state of her pubic hair regimen meant nothing at all. Hands fisted in the sheets, Brienne panted down the back half of her orgasm and opened her eyes to find Cersei staring intensely at her.

“Do it again,” Cersei whispered and Brienne moaned low and long as Jaime licked in long, slow strokes, his breath like a humid summer under her skirt. Brienne flailed and pulled at the edges of her skirt, managing to bring it up to her hips, so she could see his head between her legs as he devoured her.

Brienne was trembling already when Cersei reached down and pinched her nipples, one and then the other, still rubbing herself at the same time, her shining golden skin turning a burnished bronze with her flush. Now that Brienne's legs were free, Jaime pressed his hands against the inside of her thighs, opening her wider to his greedy tongue and she was shuddering, pushing against his face in seconds, a rolling wave that spread through all of her in violent, breathless spasms as Cersei plucked and twisted her nipples in exquisite agony.

Before she'd fully come back to herself, Cersei leaned down so her breasts brushed against Brienne's sensitive nipples, sending electric jolts through her. “Have you ever eaten out another woman?” Cersei asked, her voice a battle with itself, a mix of the commanding distance she'd evinced so far mixed with a desperate curiosity that Brienne wanted to sate.

Jaime was kissing the inside of Brienne's thighs, down to her knees, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over her hipbones. But his fingers were pressed tight to her skin, like he was ready to pull her towards him.

“No,” Brienne said.

“There's a first time for everything,” Cersei said, standing again. “Flip her on her stomach,” she told Jaime and his kiss turned into a gentle bite for a moment that left Brienne gasping. He lifted his head to glance curiously at Cersei before staring at Brienne.

“I'm going to fuck you,” he told Brienne in a voice so rough and low she felt it down to her toes. “I'll slide into you from behind while you do what she tells you. Okay?” He was asking again, instead of assuming like his sister. Brienne wasn't sure which one was hotter but she couldn't get words to work so she just nodded again. Then she swallowed as he climbed over her and put his hands down on either side of her head enveloping her with his smell mixed with her own. The head of his cock pressed against the low part of her belly and her pelvis surged up towards him instinctively. Jaime grinned down at her. “I'll go get the condom while you get started.”

Cersei stripped off her lingerie so she was naked before crawling to the head of the bed to lean back against the smooth wood headboard. Though she laid herself out for Brienne, Cersei didn't look vulnerable, she looked like a queen waiting to be served by her willing subjects. Cersei's cunt was tightly trimmed with a thin covering of golden hair. Not red, Brienne thought, almost wanting to giggle, but she bit her lip to keep it in, not wanting to offend Cersei. Cersei raised her sharp chin and said “take your clothes off, except for your shoes.” Brienne licked her lips and obeyed, and by the time she was only in her black heels, Jaime was back and also naked, and Brienne couldn't tear her gaze from his cock, thick and straight and covered in the translucent sheen of the condom. She wanted to take him inside her wherever he wanted, she wanted to choke on his length, to feel his weight pushing her into the bed, to have her legs curled over his strong shoulders. She tore her eyes away before she came again just imagining what was about to happen, and felt a frisson of annoyed laughter at the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You like it,” he said in a voice so smug she could have smacked him if he were near.

“Yes, Jaime, it's wonderful,” Cersei said in a bored voice. “Brienne, it's my turn now. Can you make me come with just your mouth on me?” She asked it, but it was a challenge, not a request. Brienne felt her heart beat harder in response.

She knelt down between Cersei's open legs and the two women stared at each other for a long moment. Cersei would not let her say no and still let Jaime fuck her, but it wasn't Cersei's cunt that gave Brienne pause; it was the firm, unyielding stone of her face. For a game to be played, Cersei looked like she wasn't even enjoying herself and Brienne didn't want to do this just to prove she could. She'd had two incredible orgasms, she could walk away now and go another five years without a date and still be satisfied. But she wanted to see what was behind the bright wall of fire in Cersei's eyes, even if just for a moment. Brienne put her big hands on Cersei's knees and rubbed down her calves, then back up and down the outside of her thighs, staring at her all the while. Cersei's red lips parted in anticipation and her chest heaved, the nipples tightening with expectation. That one small give was enough.

Brienne lay down on her stomach, her face level with Cersei's cunt and immediately she felt Jaime's legs on either side of her own, one of his hands coming underneath her hips to lift her off the bed. As she touched her tongue tentatively to Cersei's clit, Jaime pushed the head of his cock against her wet folds, and it was hard and hot as he slid slowly inside her. Brienne couldn't control the low cry he seemed to push out of her as he pressed deep into her cunt and her hands went tight on Cersei's smooth thighs.

When Brienne looked up at Cersei, her eyes were closed and her hips rolled a little towards her, eager. Brienne's own hips were pushed back towards Jaime but his hands were like iron, holding her in place.

She tasted Cersei again, a firmer swipe of her tongue this time that seemed to jolt the other woman into a gasp. It was a new experience, but pleasant, and Brienne licked a long stripe again, up and down, enjoying the soft, wet feel on her tongue, the hair bristling against her nose.

“Yes, like that,” Cersei whispered, and when Brienne glanced up, Cersei's desire was like an arrow, like a sharp-claw reaching out and dragging Brienne in. Brienne let herself be taken by them both. Cersei from the front, her eyes never looking away as Brienne sucked and licked, broke the challenge to slide first one and then a second thick finger into Cersei's folds and feel her clench around them in a sensation Brienne had never felt from this side, got her nose and chin wet with everything Cersei allowed her to have. And Jaime took from behind, his hands holding her lower half still while he carefully and methodically fucked her, going deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out again until she was whining into Cersei's cunt, and then pushing in and making Brienne's cries disappear into Cersei's center as well. Somehow Brienne held on long enough to hear Cersei's breathing go high and sharp, to feel her legs go tight against her head, her cunt tight against her fingers and that was when Jaime slammed hard into Brienne, murmuring and thrusting in wild abandon until her whole body clenched around him and she had to close her eyes as it all overwhelmed her – the smell of Cersei's sex and the feel of Jaime's body – and with Cersei's legs still pressed against her ears, Jaime's fingers gripped Brienne's waist and he pounded inside her and cried out the loudest of them all.

Before she had even stopped panting, Cersei tugged Brienne's fingers out of her and rolled elegantly off the bed to stride to a different door Brienne hadn't had time or mind to notice before. Cersei bent to smoothly pick up her dress and underwear on the way by like she was cleaning up after a normal day at the office.

She shut the door behind her, leaving Jaime and Brienne alone on the bed. Brienne's face was pressed into the silk sheets and Jaime was a pleasant weight on top of her, his cock softening inside her still. When she shifted a little to get more comfortable he shuddered against her and rolled off of her onto his back on the bed. She shivered as the air that took his place washed cool over the sweat drying on her skin.

Brienne moved her head enough to look at him. Jaime had pillowed his head on one arm, the other resting on his tight stomach, moving up and down with his hard breathing. He turned his head and met her gaze. Even thoroughly debauched by him and his sister, Brienne was embarrassed to lay here naked next to him in all his perfection now, knowing that this was when he'd see the gleaming ugliness of her without the haze of sex to soften it, and she cursed the blush she felt spread up her face and down through her chest.

Jaime smiled, sincere and amused and not repulsed. “You're good?”

Brienne only nodded, biting her lip.

“Good.” He looked back up at the ceiling and his smile disappeared. In profile, with the way his mouth was set so seriously, she imagined him some marble carving, an old god come to life. “She never participates,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“Cersei. She watches and she directs and sometimes she touches but she doesn't get involved. She does it to get ready for Robert.” The way he snarled the name made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Can't waste her time with her own pleasure.”

Brienne tugged the sheet up to cover herself. “Why are you telling me this?”

He frowned and looked her way, was quiet, searching her face for an endless minute. “Because this is the first time she's let herself go.”

Brienne thought of Cersei's tightly controlled orgasm, the way she'd only barely hinted at what Brienne had felt under her skin. It that was letting go, what was it Brienne had been doing in contrast? She must have seemed like a well-used harlot to the two of them.

“I should go,” she murmured, looking away.

“You don't have to,” Jaime said quickly. “Cersei will be done soon and she usually heads straight home. You can clean up in the shower.”

Brienne looked more closely around the room. There was a small wardrobe tucked in a corner, a fancy rug on the floor, and a couple of warmly lit lamps provided the ambient light. “Is this room part of the club?” Gods she hoped it wasn't just free for use, not when she was still wrapped up in the sheets. She was going to need to take a bath in disinfectant.

“Yes, but it's just for me and Cersei to use.”

“You have your own room at a club?”

He gave her a surprisingly self-deprecating grin. “Wait until I tell you who owns the place.”

Incredibly handsome, good at sex, and rich, apparently. Margaery was going to die when Brienne told her about all of this. “Oh,” Brienne said, eloquent as ever. Margaery was constantly trying to teach her to flirt, but Brienne hated how awkward everything she tried to say sexily sounded coming out of her big mouth.

“You don't think less of me, do you?” he said, his voice teasing. “I'd hate for you to leave thinking I'd used my connections to seduce you.”

“Your sister did most of the seducing.”

His beautiful mouth, the one that had ravished her so thoroughly earlier, pursed seriously. “She did, didn't she?”

Brienne should get up, put her clothes on and text Margaery and leave now before she got any more involved in this and the fact that she'd had sex with a brother and sister at the same time became more uncomfortable than alluring.

But Margaery always said she had more heart than sense.

“Is everything okay with her?” Brienne asked.

Jaime looked startled and his mouth opened but nothing came out. The bathroom door opened and Cersei strode back into the room before he could put together any answer at all.

“Brienne,” Cersei said, and Brienne looked up past Jaime to see the other woman had put herself entirely back together again, the only reminder of what they'd done a lingering flush on her high cheekbones which could have just as easily been carefully applied makeup. “We can arrange a safe ride home for you if your friend is gone, just let Podrick know.” She licked her lips, an unexpectedly nervous gesture for the otherwise composed woman. “We don't require secrecy, but discretion would be best for you.”

Brienne felt a flare of sudden anger at the implied threat and she levered herself up on one arm to be less at a disadvantage. “Who am I going to tell?”

“I don't care as long as it does not come back to me or my family in the form of blackmail.”

“Blackmail?” Brienne was furious now, offended that this woman would assume she'd use some heady one-night stand to get money from people she didn't even know were rich when she'd said yes.

“Cersei,” Jaime said quietly. He'd sat up, too, was leaning back against the headboard with his hands folded in his lap. “She doesn't know who we are.”

Cersei looked genuinely surprised at that, her face loosening into something that hinted at a tightly buried softness. “I see.”

“What kind of people are you that you assume I'd have sex with you just to make money?” Brienne couldn't control the tight anger inside her, had never been good at controlling any of her emotions. She stood from the bed and towered over them both, naked and snarling. She felt more like a wounded hyena than a lion.

“We are very rich people,” Jaime said, glancing between her and Cersei. “And Cersei is married.”

“She's what?” Brienne looked at Cersei, who pulled her shoulders back and matched Brienne's glare.

“Not that it's your business,” Cersei said, and she transferred some of her anger to her brother for a fleeting moment.

“Well I won't tell anyone about any of this, except Margaery. She won't blackmail you either,” Brienne added through clenched teeth.

“Good.” Cersei looked her up and down, something sharp coming into her eyes and Brienne waited for the finely tuned barb that would prick what self-esteem she'd gathered from their encounter. “We're here every Friday,” Cersei said instead, heading for the door. “Jaime, don't miss brunch again this weekend, father will have your head.”

“Father can kiss my ass,” he called out after Cersei before she shut the door behind her.

Brienne blinked, not entirely sure what had just happened, and looked back at Jaime. He was giving her a lazy, pleased once over with his knowing green eyes. “You can kiss my ass, too, if you want” he murmured and Brienne blushed from head to toe, hurrying to the bathroom while Jaime laughed softly behind her.

Safely behind the door, Brienne realized she'd left all of her things in the other room with a golden god who looked like he was thinking about having sex with her again soon. The bathroom was a soothing light gray with lavender and white highlights, a muted mix of femininity and masculinity that made Brienne feel oddly comfortable. There was a shower easily big enough for two people and she wondered how much sex the wide, round shower heads had overseen.

Brienne relieved herself and then decided she may as well use the shower, too. It was actually tall enough for her, which was a luxury she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced. She turned it on, waited until steam had started to fill the glass cube, and stepped inside. The hot water was just shy of too much, the way she liked it best.

There was a knock at the door and Jaime poked his head inside. “Can I come in?”

She started to say no but realized he'd already seen everything she had on display up close and personal. “Sure.”

“Gotta pee,” he said, “couldn't wait.” She shrugged and turned her back towards him, giving him privacy while she looked at the selection of soaps and picked one that smelled like light flowers, the opposite of Cersei's intense and demanding scent. The door to the shower started to open and Brienne whipped around.

“What are you doing?”

Jaime blinked at her. “Getting in the shower.”

“I'm in here already,” she said as though he couldn't see her wet and naked in front of him.

“Exactly,” he said. Brienne looked down and his cock was somehow lengthening and growing hard again, curling up towards the soft fuzz of his belly. “I thought I'd show you I don't need my sister to tell me what to do.”

Brienne swallowed hard, the shower pounding down on her back, water sliding down her ass and legs. “Go on then,” she managed and Jaime joined her, crowding her back against the wall so the water hit them both on their sides. He hissed a little.

“You like it hot.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Good.” He leaned forward, took the tendon of her shoulder in his teeth and she gasped. “I'm clean,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Can I-?”

Brienne nodded eagerly.

Jaime didn't say anything else after that, just slid his cock inside her and she moaned, her hands grasping his wet ass and pulling him closer. He put one hand against the wall near her head and used his other to lift her leg up and around his waist so he could angle deeper, thrusting with rhythmic, powerful movements that had Brienne making desperate cries each time. She was filled with him, his cock hard and relentless inside her, his mouth hungry and sharp over her neck and face, the water pounding, pounding, pounding, dripping into her eyes and down between their chests. She pressed her face against his arm and nipped at his wrist and Jaime groaned low against her throat. He shifted his hand around from her leg to her clit, rubbing and pinching until she was shaking and crying out, her head pressed hard against the tile of the shower. Jaime's rhythm went uneven, out of control as he banded his arms around her and thrust and thrust until he pulled out and came over her mound, his come somehow hotter on her skin than the water, moaning into her chest and shuddering in her arms.

For a second Brienne leaned her head down and they pressed their foreheads together, looking at each other with glassy, satisfied smiles, and it was more intimate than when Jaime's cock had been inside her. Brienne blushed a little and looked down between them, to the dark V their bodies created. He kissed her temple gently and then pulled away. The water still rushed down on them.

“See?” Jaime said and Brienne glanced up, saw he was smiling sardonically but his eyes were not sharp at all, they were soft. She wanted to kiss him again, tenderly at the corner of his mouth or where his eyes crinkled into small lines.

“You showed me,” she said instead. Margaery would never believe any of this. Brienne felt a laugh building up and she looked away, biting hard on her lip to keep it in.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Jaime said, ducking his head to keep her looking at him. “I suppose I'm just that good?” The playfulness was back, and Brienne couldn't resist pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. He leaned his head into her touch, like he was eager for it. Brienne felt unmoored by the sudden tenderness that flooded through her.

“Don't flatter yourself too much,” she said, gathering herself. “I was just thinking about trying to tell my friend all this when the last date I had was more than six months ago.”

“She'll be quite jealous.”

“Margaery? Jealous of me?” Brienne did laugh then, her big, braying donkey laugh and Jaime looked startled and then utterly delighted.

“Hand me that soap, will you?” he said, pointing to the flower soap she'd picked earlier. “I'll wash your back.”

“You don't have to,” Brienne said softly, but he just smiled and did so, spending extra time massaging her ass and then she took his preferred soap, something with a rich, natural scent, and did the same for him, spending time admiring with her eyes and hands the long plane of his back, the perfect roundness of his ass until he turned back around and she saw he was hard again, and he swarmed into her space like a thunderstorm she didn't want to stop.

They had to repeat the soaping process a second time after that, each cleaning themselves on their own this time to avoid having to do it all again.

The towels were thick and fluffy of course, and Brienne was soon dry and fully dressed. Jaime had opted for a pair of sweat pants he pulled out of the wardrobe and was still shirtless. Brienne clutched her tiny purse to her stomach and stared at him.

“Will you sleep here?” she asked.

“It's easier,” he said. “And just as empty as my bed at home.”

Brienne nodded. “Well,” she said. She'd never done this before, should she thank him? Would it make her seem too pathetic? She wished she could text Margaery and have her walk her through it like some modern Cyrano de Bergerac.

Jaime smiled, totally at ease, his wet hair curled against his neck. “Well,” he echoed gently.

“I-it was nice to meet you,” she said and then felt herself die a little inside with embarrassment. But Jaime just smiled even wider, that look of being entirely pleased by her back on his face.

“You have no idea how nice it was to meet you,” he murmured. “Cersei was right, by the way. We come here every Friday.”

“Oh.” Was he suggesting she come back? “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They stared at each other across the room. “Good night, Jaime,” she finally said, turning for the door.

“Good night, Brienne.” She glanced back and he'd taken a few steps after her, some want flashing on his beautiful face. She nodded and then disappeared back into the noise and heat of the club, leaving Jaime and his soft eyes behind her.

Chapter Text

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

Brienne smiled down at the cup of coffee she held. After she'd walked out of the room and back into the club, Brienne had texted Margaery to let her know everything was fine and she would get a ride home and talk in the morning, too tired to deal with her friend's expansive energy. Margaery had sent her a string of increasingly excited emojis in response that ended with “YOUR PLACE 8 LUV U.”

Margaery had shown up at five til seven with a bag of Davos' famous chocolate twist donuts, two coffees, and an impatient smile but she'd waited until they were sitting to actually demand anything.

“Well,” Brienne started, drawing out the word. She'd listened to Margaery's exploits enough times, it was nice to be on the telling end for once. “I definitely had my first threesome.”

Margaery shrieked and flailed her hand, spilling coffee all over the pillows. They paused to clean up the mess, Margaery apologizing through her laughter. Once they'd settled again, this time with water and donuts, she smacked Brienne's knee. “Spill. I want details. You had sex with them at the same time? Did they kiss each other? Was it super weird?”

“No they didn't even touch each other. They were pretty focused on me and sometimes kind of, I don't know, fighting each other? Through me?”

“Ooh kinky.”

Brienne's face went hot. “Seems like they've done it before.” She decided not to tell Margaery everything about the twins, keeping some of their confidences to herself. “I went down on a woman for the first time.”

“It's great, right? So much better than giving a guy head.”

“It was better than I thought.” But what she pictured was Jaime leaning back against the headboard, Brienne kneeling in front of him and taking him in her mouth, and she felt her whole body heat up.

Margaery was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Something else happened.”

“Nothing, really. We had sex. They were both super hot and Jaime was really good at it. He and I had sex in the shower two more times after Cersei left.”

Margaery covered her mouth with her hand. “Brienne, I am so proud of you right now I could cry.”

Brienne laughed, loud, and shook her head. “Apparently he owns the club? They had a whole special room we went to and everything.”

“Wait.” Margaery's eyes went wide. “You had sex with Jaime and Cersei Lannister?”

“I guess? I didn't get their last name.”

“BRIE.” Margaery shook Brienne's arm, making her splash water on her hand. “They are super fucking rich! Their family is notorious for paying to keep photos out of the tabloids, no wonder I didn't recognize them. Holy shit you hit the one-night stand jackpot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She took a bite of donut. “They told me they go to the club every Friday night if you want to try next time.”

“Hold it. They told you they do this every Friday? I need context, did you ask them about it? Or did they just offer this up?”

Brienne frowned, trying to remember. “They just offered it up.”

“BRIENNE.” Margaery shook her again and Brienne spilled the rest of her water on her shirt.

“Gods, what is wrong with you?” Brienne said, laughing. “Get ahold of yourself.”

“They want you to come back! Are you gonna go back? You have to. You have years of no sex to make up for.”

“I was perfectly happy with those years, thanks,” Brienne said dryly.

“Fine, then you're stocking up for the future.”

“I don't know.” Brienne set her now empty cup down, ate the last of her donut. “I'm not sure I want to get into a regular sexual relationship with a brother and sister. That sounds far too complicated for me.”

“Can you just get into it with one of them?”

Brienne considered it. Could she pry them apart long enough to just take Jaime to bed? Would Cersei even let them? Would Jaime be able to leave her on her own? Was it really worth the effort? “I think Jaime does it to kind of help his sister.”

“Cersei's married, though. Maybe she was the one helping him and now she can just go back to her husband.”

Brienne snorted. “Jaime doesn't need any help either, trust me.”

Margaery leaned back on the couch and tucked her feet up under her. Brienne couldn't have hoped to do the same, she was far too big and her couch too small. It was more a loveseat than a couch, but that was all the space there was in her apartment. “So what are you going to do?” Margaery asked, taking a delicate bite of her own donut.

“I'm going to enjoy the memory of last night into my old age and not press my luck.”

Her friend finished off the last of her donut. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Brienne said firmly.

When Brienne stepped into the pulsating main floor of Ignite that Friday, she had no one to blame this time but herself.

Saturday she had been confident that the “one night” part of “one night stand” was key and coming back for a second round – if Jaime and Cersei had even meant they wanted that – was just asking for trouble. By Wednesday Brienne had had a sex dream every night about Jaime Lannister and one where Cersei was there, too, telling her how he liked his cock sucked. By Friday morning Brienne had convinced herself just showing up to watch them completely ignore her would be just what she needed to get them out of her fevered dreams.

She'd begged off going bowling with Margaery and Loras and when Margaery had texted her “tell them I said hi” with eggplant, water spurting, and taco emojis, Brienne had blushed for a solid fifteen minutes.

The problem with not going out with Margaery was Brienne was on her own for both clothes and make-up. She didn't try to replicate what Margaery had done instead pulling out an old, barely used pad of shimmery eyeshadow, a pale blush, and the red lipstick Margaery had left behind. Her clothing choices ranged from business to a sleeveless romper that took forever to button and unbutton down the front. She pulled that on, left extra buttons at the top loose and opted out of a bra, not that she needed one anyway. It wasn't the halter top and miniskirt combo, but Brienne thought she at least looked playful. Not that it mattered; she was certain they'd have come to their senses after last week and would conveniently avoid her.

She did pull on her tallest heels to give her legs as much length as possible, though.

“This is a terrible idea,” she had told herself, ducking to be able to see her face in her small bathroom mirror.

It didn't stop her. And now she was at the bar again, with Pod the bartender grinning at her.

“Cosmopolitan, no tab?” he said and she nodded, smiling.

“I can't believe you remembered.”

“You're hard to forget, my lady,” he said sweetly. She tipped him extra for that.

Brienne focused on the dance floor, not wanting to look towards the booth right away. She didn't want them to think she'd come back just for them, even though that was exactly why she was there.

Gods she was acting like a horny idiot. She should get Margaery or Sansa to set her up on a date again, not come to a club hoping to have sex with the world's most codependent twins. But she finished her drink and then glanced towards their booth and there they were, talking animatedly about something. Jaime was all big gestures, his passion obvious; Cersei had tightly controlled, sharp movements that gave almost nothing away. Whatever they were talking about, they were intent on it, and Brienne found herself captivated at the way they were both mirrors of each other and entirely unique.

Jaime gestured where Brienne stood and Cersei glanced her way, going still when their eyes met. Sensing the sudden change, Jaime looked at Brienne, too, but he broke into a welcoming smile, waving for her to come over. Brienne hesitated, waited for Cersei to either accept or deny the invitation, and the other woman nodded slightly.

“Brienne!” Jaime said when she stood in front of their table. “You came.”

Already regretting this, already eager to follow them to the dance floor or straight to their room, she just nodded.

Cersei's eyes traveled up and down her body. “You look different.”

“Oh, uh, last time I, um, my friend-”

“You look great,” Jaime jumped in, shooting Cersei a dirty look. “Sit, have a drink.” He patted the space next to him.

Brienne blinked down at them uncertainly.

“I don't think she came for drinks, Jaime,” Cersei said, her voice dry and amused. Brienne felt her whole face heat and she mentally mapped the fastest path away from here and back to the street as Cersei slid out of the booth. “It's for the best,” she continued. “The drinking isn't why I come here, either. This way.”

Eyes wide, mind reeling at the sudden left turn, Brienne looked back as Jaime stood, too, a handspan from her. “This is my favorite part,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her gently just underneath her ear, in the delicate space where her jaw met her neck, licking her like a lion might his mate. “Come on.”

She let him lead her through the middle of the dance floor to the room they'd been in before, where Cersei was already removing her dress – a silver sheath that made her look like a diamond. Her eyes were sharp as diamonds as she watched Jaime lead Brienne inside, shut the door, and then pull her into his arms to kiss her deeply. They hadn't kissed last time, and Brienne was unprepared for how sweet his lips were, how his artful stubble scraped her chin. When he let her go, Brienne knew she was blushing, and Cersei's smirk confirmed Brienne's disorientation was obvious.

Jaime was wearing a tight black muscle shirt and he pulled it off in a motion so elegant Brienne's mouth watered. “Cersei didn't think you'd come back,” he said, shaking his hair out.

“What I said was you had probably scared her off,” Cersei corrected him, pulling Brienne to face her. “So many buttons, my dear. Trying to slow us down?”

Like Brienne could act as more than the tiniest speedbump to whatever these two wanted. She couldn't imagine them being stopped by a brick wall, it would just as soon give way to the combination of Jaime's single-minded enthusiasm and Cersei's ultra-confident determination.

“I didn't have much else to choose from,” Brienne said, feeling all her inadequacy in a moment. She shouldn't have come. She was entirely unprepared for whatever a second night would bring.

“You don't need clothes for this anyway,” Jaime said, his arms coming around her waist from behind and tackling the bottom buttons first, while Cersei worked efficiently on her top buttons. In moments they'd unwrapped her, the romper falling to her feet. Jaime's hands, strong and with roughened callouses, rubbed across Brienne's belly, making her shiver. They slid up to cup her breasts and he pressed fully against her now, so she could feel his urgent hardness. He teased her nipples, rubbing around them and then occasionally across, and Brienne would jerk each time, a gasp startled out of her. Cersei stood a foot away, watching Brienne's every reaction, like she was taking notes in some strange experiment.

“I'm going to sit on your face this time,” Cersei said, “while Jaime fucks you.”

Brienne shut her eyes and moaned low in her chest.

Jaime nudged her towards the bed, kissing along the back of her neck, stroking her breasts, her belly, his fingers dipping down to the elastic of the only other pair of fancy panties she owned and running along the edge of them. He urged her to lay down and then pressed his mouth to her center, breathing hot through the fabric against her already wet cunt. Brienne whined, her hips driving towards him, and he pulled back and grinned at her and she thought perhaps that smile, that deep hunger for her on his face would be enough to send her over the edge in another minute.

“Let me take these off you,” he said, his voice rough, his fingers tugging hopefully at her panties, and Brienne could only nod, could only gasp when he tugged them off so fast it burned the back of her knees. “Better,” he said, moving closer again, but stopping when Cersei said “no.”

His shoulders, broad and powerful, bunched tight as iron coils as he held himself still. “You don't dictate everything,” he ground out, staring somewhere around Brienne's belly button. Brienne glanced at Cersei, who was frowning, but not at Jaime, at her, like she had somehow forced him to rebel.

“You're not sharing,” Cersei said. From anyone else it would've sounded like she was whining, but from Cersei's lips it was a condemnation. Jaime grunted but sat back on his haunches, his hands still at Brienne's knees. “Go put your condom on.” While he did, Cersei placed one delicate hand between Brienne's breasts and pressed, like she was absorbing the beat of Brienne's heart. She looked at Brienne as though she was a mystery, which couldn't be true. Margaery had said Brienne was the most obvious person she knew: couldn't hide her body in a crowd, couldn't hide her emotions from a child.

“Why did you come back?” Cersei murmured, her fingers curling slightly and her nails digging into Brienne's skin. She wasn't gentle, but it didn't hurt.

It was the same question Brienne had been asking herself since she walked through Ignite's door this evening. “I don't know,” she whispered truthfully and Cersei frowned, her nails biting harder for a moment so that Brienne winced and the other woman drew back her hand but didn't apologize.

They did exactly as Cersei had said. Brienne thought she would suffocate at first, until she figured out how to angle her head so that her big mouth – too big, she'd always thought until now – could lick and suck at Cerseis' folds while Jaime held Brienne's hips in his hands and thrust into her in a demanding pace. She couldn't see him, could only see Cersei grabbing the headboard with white-knuckled hands, Cersei's green eyes open and watching, even as her orgasm took her and her body shuddered against Brienne's mouth. A moment later Brienne was crying out into Cersei's cunt, and she shut her eyes and felt Jaime's rhythm speed up, grow furious as she clenched around him and then he came too in short, sharp jerks.

As soon as Jaime had stilled Cersei was up again, moving without words to the bathroom, and Jaime flopped down half on top of Brienne, breathing into her shoulder. He was frowning when she looked at him.

“What?” she said, wiping her mouth and chin with her free arm.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her breast. “I couldn't see anything but her.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, looked annoyed. “It's not your fault. Cersei always-” he clamped his lips shut, keeping back whatever he was about to say. “It's not your fault,” he repeated, nuzzling into her armpit.

They lay quietly, relaxing, and Brienne realized their breathing had evened out to match each other. Tentatively, she brought her hand up and ran her fingers through Jaime's hair, the softness of it sliding like a whisper against her skin. His eyes closed and he put his arm around her waist, hugging her nearer. It was a dangerously domestic moment, but Brienne wouldn't have pulled away for every last cent the Lannisters owned.

The bathroom door opened and Jaime twitched and sat up and Brienne's hand flopped back down onto the bed. Cersei's eyes narrowed and Brienne felt guilty though they hadn't done anything wrong.

“I'll give you a ride home, Jaime. I have the limo tonight since Robert is out of town,” Cersei announced.

“I thought I'd sleep here tonight,” he said, his voice light.

“Don't be silly, your apartment is on my way.”

“I've got everything I need and an early morning running date with Addam at the park a block away. It makes more sense for me to stay here.”

Brienne felt like she was watching a tennis match except they were using grenades, not balls.

“Suit yourself,” Cersei said, her tone dismissive but her face a pinched warning. “I suppose I'll take you to your place then, Brienne.”

“Oh, uh-”

“Go home, Cersei,” Jaime said and all the lightness was gone from him. The immovable object meeting Cersei's unstoppable force.

Cersei's chest heaved once, hard, as she exhaled sharply. Brienne waited for some slicing retort, a command that they would be compelled to obey, but she only turned on her heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“I think she might be mad at me,” Jaime said wryly, staring at the door.

“She...likes to get her way.”

Jaime laughed, though there was not much amusement in it. “You have no idea how right you are.” He rubbed his hand over his face and then seemed to recover himself, smiling slyly at Brienne. “Come on, I need a shower and I'm far too rich and helpless to wash my own back.”

Brienne shook her head but she was still smiling when Jaime pressed her up against the shower wall and thrust inside her, and this time he watched her from start to finish.

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.

Chapter Text

Though she listened intently for him all through brunch that Sunday, Jaime wasn't at the cafe again. Brienne missed half of what her table was talking about trying to tune him in and by the end when the post-meal sorbets were placed in front of them, Margaery was frowning at her with the annoyed face Brienne was usually used to seeing her pull on Loras.

“Are you all right, Brienne?” Renly asked, looking concerned.

“What?” Brienne tore her gaze from the sorbet – it was golden colored, just like Jaime's hair – and blinked at her friends. “Oh, I'm, I'm fine, yes. Busy work week.”

Margaery looked like she wanted to say more, but her mouth snapped shut abruptly as a shadow fell over the table.

“Renly.” The single word dropped between them, and Brienne straightened as Cersei pulled out the chair next to her and sat down uninvited.

“Cersei.”

“Jaime told me he ran into you last week, I didn't realize you came here regularly.”

“You know us Baratheons, we love our hedonistic pleasures.” Brienne glanced at Cersei, but her beautiful features were still as an iced over lake. “What brings you here?”

“The same thing that brought Jaime: our little brother trying to annoy our father.”

“You should go to his table then. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting.”

“We've already had our meal, I was on my way out when I saw you.” Cersei looked at the others. “Loras and Margaery Tyrell,” she said. “I am well acquainted with your grandmother, Olenna.”

“She knows all about you, too,” Loras said. His fingers were tight on his sorbet spoon.

“I imagine she thinks she does,” Cersei said, her smile amused. “Brienne Tarth,” she said, and her eyes were deep and green as the forests near Brienne's home. “How are you, my dear?”

“F-fine,” Brienne said. Was it just a day and a half ago Cersei's fingers had been thrusting inside her? Brienne's face went hot and she stared down at her sorbet.

Cersei laid those demanding fingers briefly on top of Brienne's hand in a friendly gesture of comfort, but she scraped one nail across Brienne's knuckle as she pulled away again. “I hope I'm not intruding on your meal, it looked like you were nearly done. Robert does so want us to get along, Renly.”

Renly's mouth twisted but he was trapped by his own adherence to social niceties. “It's no trouble, Cersei. You're welcome to stay.” He gestured at the waiter and a sorbet was shortly put before Cersei as well.

She ate delicately, and Brienne was mesmerized watching her bring the little spoon to her lips, the way she carefully took the bite without messing up her perfectly applied lipstick. Cersei's hair was pulled back in tight braids, and only a single stray hair had slipped free to wave in the gentle breeze.

Cersei engaged in breezy small talk with Renly, commiserating over a recent family get-together, drew Margaery and Loras out with surprisingly charming tales of their grandmother. She ignored Brienne entirely, except for the occasional sly and knowing smile. When the check came around, Cersei insisted on paying for all of their meals and none of them argued.

Brienne's sorbet had melted, uneaten.

They stood, gathering their things and giving each other hugs and air kisses. When Brienne turned to Cersei to say goodbye, the other woman linked her arm through Brienne's. “Let me drive you home, dear, we hardly had a chance to talk.”

Brienne blinked. “Okay,” she said, nonplused. She caught Margery watching her with narrowed eyes but shook her head slightly and mouthed, “it's fine.”

Cersei led her to a small red sports car that Brienne had to stuff herself into, and probably wouldn't have fit in at all if the convertible top had been up instead of down. Brienne gave Cersei terse directions to her apartment, entirely unsure of what was about to happen, about what she wanted to happen and what she would allow. Cersei drove with the same confident intensity that she'd given to eating the sorbet, that she gave to Brienne on Friday nights.

When the car was parked they sat there for a moment, Brienne's knees pulled up uncomfortably close to her body.

“Did...did you want to talk about something?” Brienne said.

“Nothing in particular. I thought it would be good for us to get to know each other better.”

It's just sex she heard Margaery saying in her head. “Why?”

Cersei arched an eyebrow. “We've spent three nights together and I had to discover your last name myself. I assume you'll be coming back for a fourth.”

Unreasonably nervous, Brienne glanced around, but her street was quiet as always. It was why she'd picked this apartment, because it was near public transportation but far enough that they didn't get a lot of non-local foot traffic. “I suppose,” she said quietly.

“You seem uncomfortable.”

“I thought-” Brienne shook her head, looked at herself in the side mirror. Her face was blotchy, her hair a mess from the wind as they'd driven. Her nose was crooked, her lips too pale without lipstick. She looked at her own eyes in the sunlight and thought of Jaime. “I thought this was just about the club,” she said.

“I thought so, too, but Jaime speaks so highly of your time together after I leave. It seemed only reasonable I spend time with you as well.” She sat straight and regal, like she was on a throne, not in a car, and when she turned to look at Brienne, it was a lion staring out at Brienne, judging her, deciding whether she was to be eaten or claimed.

“I see,” Brienne said, though she didn't see at all. Was Cersei jealous of her and Jaime's showers together? And was she jealous of Brienne, or of Jaime?

“It seems you have less to say when you have not been loosened first. So shy even though you've had your tongue in my cunt?”

It was like Brienne had been dropped into a pot of boiling water, so hot and fast did she blush all over. “I'm not shy,” she hissed absurdly.

“Reluctant then. Perhaps I should take you to your bed and let you go down on me so you remember how to talk.”

Brienne threw open the door to the car but as cramped in as she was her exit was undignified and slow. By the time she'd unfolded herself to her full height, Cersei's eyes were watching her, dancing with laughter. She and Jaime had the same eyes, but the way they sparkled was the difference between glimmering light on water and the keen edge of a diamond.

“Don't mock me,” Brienne said, gathering herself and slamming the door shut.

Cersei's face darkened, a thundercloud in the summer. “It's you who mock me with your silence, though you talk so freely with my brother” she said, her voice as sharp as lightning. And then, like a summer storm, her expression cleared. “I need to be on my way, anyway, I lingered longer than I should have. We'll see you Friday.” She started the car again, the roar sudden in the silence, and peeled away from the curb. Brienne watched her go, waiting for something she couldn't name, and only went inside her building once the car had disappeared from sight.

Margery had no better idea of what Cersei had meant than Brienne had. “Will you go back?” she'd asked when Brienne had called her after Cersei's departure.

“I feel like I have to. Like if I don't go, Cersei will win.”

“It's not a war, Brienne, you don't have to fight.”

How could she explain that the battle was part of the attraction? That her prize was seeing Jaime's smile afterward when it was just the two of them in the room.

They'd had sex three times. She would sound like a naïve idiot if she told Margaery any of that.

“It's fun,” Brienne said weakly.

Her friend scoffed, the sound crackling static through the phone. “If you say so.”

On the fourth Friday, Brienne entered Ignite, gave Pod a quick wave, and headed straight to the Lannisters' booth. Only Cersei was there with her and Brienne's drinks, and a startlingly welcoming smile.

“Where's Jaime?” Brienne asked and Cersei's smile turned acidic.

“He's waiting in the room.” She stood and they left the drinks untouched on the table. Brienne didn't need liquid encouragement any longer; she'd stopped trying to fool herself into thinking this was some random act of the Seven. Even her period had ended the day before, putting the choice about tonight squarely in Brienne's hands. As she'd gotten ready she'd taken her time, applying new eyeliner and dark lipstick; she'd pulled on new lingerie and then covered it with a simple wrap dress that would be easy to remove. There was no more reason for false barriers.

As they walked up, Sandor grinned at Brienne and she smiled a little and darted her eyes away. Gods knew she didn't need to get a fourth person involved in this mess.

Cersei opened the door and paused, gesturing for Brienne to proceed her. Alert, cautious, Brienne stepped inside the room and let her eyes adjust from the hectic, ever-changing lights and noise of the club to here. They'd lit candles, dozens of them all around the room, and the flickering glow was hypnotic. It danced and gently kissed Jaime's naked body as he lay on the bed, bound spread-eagled to it at the wrists and ankles, a blindfold covering his eyes, his cock already hard and aching upward.

“Brienne?” he said, his voice rough and needy, but not in the least scared.

She heard Cersei close the door behind her, registered that the other woman had come into the room as well and was removing her clothes, but all Brienne could do was stare at Jaime, laid out like a prize before her, his body tense, muscles flexing as he shifted trying to discover her.

“I'm here,” she whispered and he jerked like she'd shocked him, and then he'd smiled, his mouth somehow the most obscene part of him. Heat went through Brienne like an arrow, and she felt wet and ready in an instant.

“Take all of your clothes off,” Cersei commanded and Brienne obeyed, drinking in all of Jaime, from the sweat on his forehead down to his toes stretching towards her. His hands open and closed one time and then he stilled.

“Today you will only touch him the way I tell you to,” she continued. “No more and no less.”

Brienne swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Is he- Jaime are you okay with that?”

“I let her tie me up, didn't I?” he said. “Besides, I trust you.”

They'd talked less than a day's worth when you put all of their time together. “I won't...hurt him,” Brienne said, looking at Cersei, who was naked now, too. The light was generous on her body as well, softening the sharp lines of her face, making her skin glow like she was lit from within. Brienne reached out to touch a glimmering patch on her shoulder and Cersei stepped backward.

“Only him,” Cersei said and for once her voice was unsteady. “Not me tonight.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Touch him,” she said softly. “There,” she pointed to his stomach, but her eyes were on Brienne. “And there,” she pointed to his legs.

Brienne sat down on the bed and he tried to turn towards her instinctively but the bindings held him in place. “I'm ticklish,” he started to say, but she brushed her fingers along his belly and the rest escaped in a hiss. He was helpless before her. He trusted her. She ran her hand along the ridges of his chest muscles, down his abdomen and stopped just shy of his cock. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, frustrated as she lifted her hand, and then he sighed in release when she rubbed his thighs, over the coarse golden hairs, down over his rough knees. She liked how well-used his legs were; they were the legs of a man who earned his shape doing things outside of just a gym.

“Kiss him there,” Cersei said, pointing to his shoulder.

She leaned down and pressed her lips to the hard line of his clavicle and he jumped a little, turned his head to nuzzle his nose into her hair. Brienne kissed her way down the bone, jumped to the round edge of his shoulder where he had a small scar she'd discovered before.

“Bite him.”

Brienne glanced up at Cersei, saw a flush spreading over the woman's chest, her eyes only for Brienne. “I won't hurt him,” Brienne said again.

“I don't mind biting,” Jaime rasped and Brienne's thighs tightened, pressed together eagerly.

“Do it. There.” Cersei pointed to his forearm. The candlelight wavered and steadied again.

She moved up and pressed her lips to the inside of his wrist just below the binding and felt his pulse with her mouth. They were lions, she thought, but she could be, too. Brienne took the tender skin in her teeth and Jaime moaned as she bit down, gently, and then harder. She let go before she broke skin, touched her tongue to the indent her teeth had left.

“Good,” Cersei said, breathless. “Do it again, anywhere.”

Brienne left small marks all down his arm, and by the time she reached his shoulder again, she could feel Jaime's heaving chest where her breasts were pressed against him. He lifted his pelvis up, groaning.

“Please,” he begged.

“Not yet,” Cersei said. “Brienne,” her name was a jewel on Cersei's tongue. “Pinch his nipples.”

“Jaime, is it okay-”

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “Yes whatever you want.” She did as ordered, softly at first, then harder, and then, when Cersei commanded her to, with her teeth, scraping and tugging until he writhed beneath her. Jaime's stomach moved like a bellows and his nipples were a deep red once she was done with them.

“Play with his balls, but do not touch his cock.”

Brienne moved around to settle between Jaime's legs and the muscles in his neck went taut. She wrapped one large hand around Jaime's sack and he whined with pleasure, a keening noise she'd never heard him make that had her pressing her free hand against herself desperately.

“Stop touching yourself and look at me,” Cersei said. When Brienne did, she saw the muscles in Cersei's neck were just as tight. Unlike what she was allowing Brienne, Cersei was plucking at her own nipple, her other hand sliding slow between the folds of her cunt. “Tell me what you want to do to him, Brienne.” Brienne glanced down at Jaime and Cersei said sharply, “tell me.”

“I-I want to sit on his cock,” she said, her voice as pale in comparison to Cersei's as her skin. But Cersei nodded, looking pleased.

“What else?”

“I want to kiss him.”

“What else? You want him to fuck you, but do you want to fuck him?”

Jaime groaned and Brienne froze. “I-I've never-”

“It doesn't matter. Do you want to?”

She looked down at Jaime and his body was trembling, his cock so red it was nearly purple in the candlelight. “Yes,” she said softly and he cried out a little, all his limbs straining at his bonds.

“Do you think he would like it?”

Brienne couldn't stop looking at Jaime, picturing him like this but under her, her hands palming his ass, holding him steady. “Yes,” she said, her voice low and confident, “I think he would love it.” Jaime was almost in a frenzy now, his pelvis rocking upward as she held onto the warm soft skin of his sack without touching him anywhere else.

“Please,” he begged again. “Please.”

“And what else would you do to him?” Cersei pressed, ignoring Jaime. “Would you suck his cock?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let him take you like an animal?”

“Yes,” Brienne said, panting, aching. This was torture for her and Jaime both, hearing all the things she wanted to do to and with him and being trapped by Cersei's command, by her unyielding gaze. Brienne's fingers stroked up his cock for a moment and Jaime shuddered so hard against his bonds she was afraid he'd hurt himself.

“Not yet,” Cersei said tightly. Brienne looked at her and she was as tortured as they, her finger rubbing madly at herself. “Would you let him suck at your cunt until you both were drenched?”

“Yes,” Brienne said, hearing her own desperation. She was near begging herself.

“Would you let him press against you in the middle of the dance floor and let him take you there in public?”

Brienne imagined it, her with a short skirt and no underwear, Jaime sneaking up behind her and his cock sliding in as the crowd moved and sweated around them, her cries hidden by loud music. “Yes,” Brienne gasped. “Yes.”

“Would you let me-” Cersei bit back a throaty cry, her eyes finally closing as she peaked, and as though it had been Cersei's stare alone that had bound her, Brienne surged against Jaime, kissing him roughly, sliding onto his cock and moaning in release as he slammed into her, wild and desperate for it. It took only a few strokes for both of them to cry out and Brienne pulsed against him, his breath hot against her face, his body hot against her own. She sobbed through her orgasm and rode him until he moaned, “stop, stop” and she collapsed atop him, exhausted.

By the time Brienne's heart had stopped pounding, Cersei was in the bathroom and the air was thick with the memory of every image she'd revealed. Brienne pulled the blindfold off of Jaime and was taken aback by the deep longing in his eyes.

“Hello,” he said softly, his still-bound hands twitching.

“Hello.”

“It's good to see you,” he said in that same gentle voice that knocked at her heart, trying to find its way in.

Unable to talk to him yet, Brienne started working on his restraints, and as soon as his hand was free, he brought it up to cup her cheek. His palms were sweaty, his fingers trembling a little.

“We have quite a To Do list now,” he said, smiling mischievously at her.

“Stop,” she murmured. But she quickly kissed his fingers and then undid the rest of his bindings, tenderly rubbing the red marks around his ankles.

“Your hands are much bigger, but you're much gentler,” he said, taking one of her hands in his.

She didn't know what to say, what words there were to fill the space that all the intensity had left behind. “Have you done this before?” she asked, not entirely sure what she was asking about.

“No.” He kissed her palm and then leaned forward and kissed her lips. “Just with you.”

Cersei came out of the bathroom and she barely even looked their way, heading silently for the door.

“Good night,” Jaime said blithely, and Cersei hesitated, looked back to see them sitting facing each other on the bed, holding hands. Her body went rigid before she turned and left them alone again.

“I should clean up,” Brienne said, standing quickly. Cersei had been like a spellcaster, weaving a strange enchantment around the room that broke with the shutting of the door, left Brienne feeling more defenseless and off-balance than ever. Jaime seemed entirely comfortable, but she couldn't bear to look at him and see that lingering need in his eyes.

“I'll put out the candles,” he said. “Don't want to burn the place down. I don't think the insurers would let me collect on that.”

He left her alone to shower and when she came out again fully dressed, he was sitting on the bed, still naked, waiting for her. “Better?”

“Cleaner,” she said.

Jaime nodded a little and inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly. “You don't have to leave,” he said quietly.

Brienne froze, her body, her heart, even her thoughts. “Not immediately,” she finally said.

He frowned at her. “Or at all. I do own the place, and the bed is big enough.”

The whole thing felt like a trap, like a cosmic joke, like someone had read the desires of her heart that she wouldn't even allow herself to consider and then had put them out for the world to see and to laugh at. Jaime Lannister wanted to sleep with her, in the actual meaning of the word? Sexy, rich, funny, charming Jaime Lannister? He trusted her, he had said, but did she trust him?

“Why?” Brienne said, the word feeling like it was ripped from her throat.

His mouth open and closed, like he was struggling even to process her question. “Never mind,” he finally managed. “You don't have to, I shouldn't have asked.”

“It's okay,” she said hurriedly. “I just...I don't have anything with me.”

“Of course. I wasn't thinking.” He shot her a bright smile, all crisp, surface shine, and pulled his cell phone out of the drawer of the bedside table. “Can I have your number at least? I could find it on my own, but this way seems more civilized.”

“I...I guess.” She gave him his number, feeling disoriented. The smell of burned out candles was cloying.

“Thanks. Now if I have trouble in the shower, you can come save me.” He stood and took a step nearer, tucked strands of wet hair behind her ear. “I'll see you next week?” he asked, his voice gently hopeful.

“Yes,” she whispered without thinking. She wanted to kiss him, soft, like what was between them was more than physical desire. The air felt heavy with waiting, but she couldn't make her body lean forward into him, couldn't take that first step.

“Good night, then,” he murmured. He was so warm – it radiated off of his body like he was a human furnace, it radiated from his eyes like they were hot green coals. Brienne wanted him to burn her all the way up and was terrified to even let him touch her. She'd said yes but she knew she shouldn't come back here again, she was already too far gone.

“Goodbye,” she said. She pressed her lips against the slight stubble on his cheek and breathed in the sweaty, sated smell of his skin. This moment would have to be the last.

Brienne took a step away and allowed herself only a second to look at him before she turned around, saw him frowning and confused. It took everything she had to walk out the door, shutting it slowly behind her.

Chapter Text

Brienne sat alone in her apartment all weekend, cleaning, binging TV shows, and making lunches for the week. She texted Margaery that she wasn't feeling well and would be staying in and her friend had Brienne's favorite soup sent from Stannis' local deli, making Brienne feel both cared for and guilty. She wasn't exactly lying, she just hadn't specified that what felt off was her heart.

Jaime had invited her to stay the night, but that was after he'd just put his body in her hands, had heard all the things she would do to him or let him do to her in return; he could simply have felt like he owed her the invitation as thanks or – even worse – as some sort of emotional contract to keep her from sharing any of what she'd discovered. But even if his invitation had been just a way to try to continue the closeness of the night, her feelings were already more involved than was safe; she was too eager for it to be Friday each week, she imagined him everywhere she saw a hint of gold. And while the threesomes with Cersei had become a state she was accustomed to, she couldn't spend the night with him not knowing whether he had a Saturday night girl, too, and she had no right to ask that of him, not without showing him her tender insides first so he knew why she needed to know. Brienne had learned many lessons from her father, but something she had learned on her own was how dangerous it was to give any but those she most trusted access to the softest pieces of her soul. So she had kissed him and told him goodbye and though her emotional, irrational inner heart yearned otherwise, she was going to stick to it. Somehow.

But Jaime Lannister didn't seem to recognize – or care – what Brienne's kiss had meant Friday night, because Saturday morning he'd texted her, a silly gif of a sun with a lion cub's smiling face in the middle of it and underneath in all lower case 'good morning brienne tarth'.

She'd hesitated to respond and another text had popped up: 'this is brienne tarth's phone isn't it'.

Brienne rolled her eyes, typed in 'Of course it is. Too many other girls in your contacts?'

'u cld have been trolling me and given me sum1 else's # like ur dads'

She laughed a little and shook her head. 'I'll remember that for next time.'

'got u saved in contacts now no next time'

'Do you hate punctuation?'

'u kno wut im saying w/o it'

'I do, it just makes me cringe. How old are you anyway?'

'wasnt tht part of ur research'

'I want to be sure the internet wasn't lying to me'

The three dots showing he was typing flashed for a long time and she lifted her eyebrows, curious. Then a wall of text flashed onto her screen:

'Miss Brienne Tarth, I, Jaime Lannister, was born three decades and two years ago, in the middle of a hot and dry summer. I waited politely for my sister to be born first, as any true gentleman would do, and came into the world a pure and precious baby boy weighing but six pounds. I had very little hair and my eyes, I am told, were blue, before they turned into the green you see today when I am hovering over you ready to sex you up.'

Brienne laughed aloud in her apartment, the sound ricocheting around the close walls. 'hawt' she typed back.

He replied with a gif of a woman sexily peeling a banana and she didn't respond, setting her phone down. She shouldn't flirt with him, not when she didn't intend to return. But she checked her phone all day to see if he sent anything else.

Sunday afternoon he sent her a picture of himself with his own hand around his throat, his tongue sticking out like he was dead. 'went 2 brunch w fam n remembrd y i dont do this' and then another message: 'wld rather have been w u and lorass'.

'Loras' she'd typed.

'lorass is more accurate'

'Incredible that you own a functioning nightclub.'

'best in kl bb just like me'

She blushed a little, although she knew the shortened 'baby' didn't mean anything but a cutesy texting nickname, and set her phone down to keep from responding. That night he sent her another gif, this one of a sleepy lion cub curled up in the moon with 'gd nite' underneath. Brienne looked at it for a long time and then shut off her phone and laid awake in bed for hours.

He texted her at dawn on Monday morning with a picture of his feet in running shoes.

'starting wk off rite w early am run'

'You're a monster' she'd sent back, staring blearily at her phone screen. Brienne didn't care much for mornings on a good day, and with the lack of sleep she felt grumpier than usual.

He'd sent back multiple laughing emojis and she'd grumbled to the empty room and crawled back under the covers until the first of her three alarms went off. Brienne was never late to work, it was too important to her to show up on time, work hard, and be willing to take on any tasks that would help her team, even if the work itself – data management for a chain of gyms owned by Oberyn Martell – didn't move her. But not being late to work meant multiple alarms, strong coffee, and usually a quick cold rinse to flush the last of the sleep from her eyes.

Jaime texted her again while she got ready, a picture of his face, grinning and flushed from his run, the sun making his hair glow and the words '5 miles 4 brkfst wut u got'

She hesitated and then took a picture of her plain oatmeal and sent it to him.

'nice table' he'd sent back and Brienne smiled. The table had been a gift from her father for her last birthday when she'd turned twenty-seven, something he'd had carved from a tree near their house that had had to be taken down for safety reasons. It was small and round, could fit two people if they were comfortable being cozy with each other, and it made her think of home. The wood gleamed rich and brown, full of striations that made interesting patterns she liked to trace when she was eating alone.

She saved the picture he'd sent and then tried not to check her phone too many times for the rest of the day. He texted her again that night as she was getting ready for bed, another picture of his feet, although this time they were in ridiculous looking polar bear slippers.

'good night brienne from me n my bears'

Her heart flipped around in her chest and she shut off her phone without sending a response.

Tuesday and Wednesday were the same: in the morning a picture of his face and how far he'd run – 7 miles on Tuesday, 10 on Wednesday – and she sent him a picture of her breakfast in return, plain oatmeal both days. Then at night, his feet in his bear slippers with a good night message that she could never bring herself to reply to.

Thursday she didn't hear from him at all and she was oddly worried, started a text ten different times before deleting it and setting her phone down. Before this week she hadn't talked to him at all outside of the club, except for that chance meeting at brunch; he didn't owe her anything. When he still hadn't sent anything Friday morning, she took a picture of her oatmeal, this time with blueberries on top to be different, and sent it without a word. A few minutes later he responded.

'proud of u'

She smiled down at her phone, resisted sending him a message asking what had happened, if he was okay.

'Since it's Friday' she typed instead and hit send before she realized what meaning he might take from that.

His response was swift. 'See you tonight?'

Brienne stared at the question he'd so carefully typed, her heart pounding. Gods she wanted to see him so badly, just to talk to him, figure out what was really going on here, what role Cersei played in all of it, what Jaime himself wanted. She wasn't sure any of them had those answers, or what the answers would do to the delicately balanced system they currently had. A week off would be smarter; stay home tonight and block his number for a few days, give herself breathing room away from his soft eyes and gorgeous face, away from his silly texts and the serious curve of his calves. It would be smarter and safer. She stared at the question and then set her phone down, leaving it unanswered.

Cersei was alone at the booth when Brienne walked up clutching her purse like it was a life preserver. Brienne had decided at the last minute to show up after pacing around her apartment for an hour as though walking in restless circles would somehow reveal the right move to make. Knowing herself, she decided she needed to face this head-on because she'd worry it to death either way, had thrown on the halter top and miniskirt from the first night without even thinking about it and had left without putting on any makeup at all. Now Cersei stood gracefully, taking Brienne's hand in her own with a smile, looking more perfectly put together than ever in a tight black dress with holes in strategic places, stiletto heels the color of fresh blood and lipstick to match. “Jaime said we should get started without him. Do you want something to drink first?”

Brienne looked around, felt the music throbbing through her body. Cersei rubbed her hand down Brienne's arm in a long, smooth stroke.

“Or we could go straight to the room and have drinks after,” Cersei said, her voice low and smoky.

It felt off, wrong somehow to start without Jaime, but she nodded and followed Cersei back to the room. Sandor didn't meet her eyes as she walked by.

“Where is Jaime?” Brienne asked when Cersei shut the door. She came up to Brienne's back and undid the tie of her halter top with swift fingers. Brienne caught it before it fell and Cersei came around to stand in front of her, lifting an eyebrow.

“Detained helping our father. He'll be here as soon as he's able.” She leaned in and tugged the halter top out of Brienne's hands and off of her, and Brienne shivered when Cersei kissed her between her breasts. “He asked me to get you ready for him,” she murmured against Brienne's skin. “He gave very explicit instructions.”

Brienne flushed, let Cersei pull her skirt down as well so she was standing just in her panties, and then Cersei knelt at her feet, stared up at Brienne from the floor and held her gaze while she gently tugged Brienne's panties down, too, pressing her soft lips to just above her pubic hair. Brienne shuddered and gasped. Cersei seemed eager this evening, more willing to engage; as different without Jaime as he was without her.

Cersei rose fluidly, tugged Brienne to the bed. “Lie down,” she said. She went to the wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer, bringing out a black plastic bag heavy with something. “You and I haven't had much time just to ourselves,” Cersei continued, coming to sit down next to Brienne on the bed and setting the bag on the floor. She dragged her nail gently down the middle of Brienne's body, from the divot of her throat to between her folds, the path a predator would take to eviscerate their prey. “Not like you and Jaime.”

Brienne exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the feel of Cersei's finger wiping her own wetness across her stomach.

“What do you two do after I leave?” Cersei asked, shifting and sliding her finger up to Brienne's mouth, tracing her thick, plain lips.

“W-we talk. We take a shower.”

Cersei tapped Brienne's chin. “I do love shower sex,” she said, her breath smelling of cheap mint toothpaste. It startled Brienne with its ordinariness. Cersei brushed her palms across Brienne's nipples and Brienne inhaled sharply. “What do you talk about?”

“I don't know,” she breathed. “Nothing important.”

Cersei straddled Brienne, her cunt pressing against Brienne's, rubbing firmly. Brienne moaned and it turned into a high whine when Cersei bent down and sucked her nipples one at a time, letting them go with a pop when she was done with each. “I know what you really want is my brother.” She leaned down so her breasts were pressed against Brienne's, her golden hair falling over Brienne's face. “I can give you anything Jaime can,” she whispered in Brienne's ear, so quiet Brienne wondered if she imagined it. There was the sound of the bag rustling and then Cersei sat back up, rubbing her cunt against Brienne's again, and in her hand was a harness with a large dildo on one end and a smaller one pointing the other way towards whoever would be wearing it. “You said you'd never used one of these. I can show you how to use it, for later. Do you trust me?”

“No,” Brienne said, her pelvis pushing up against Cersei's, their wetness merging.

“But you'll let me anyway.”

Brienne bit her lip, and nodded. Cersei smiled triumphantly, a look that made Brienne's body quiver.

Cersei stood and pulled the harness on while Brienne watched curiously. The smaller dildo pressed between Cersei's folds where it would rub against her clit while she thrust, the larger dildo aimed towards Brienne. Then Cersei was between Brienne's legs, shoving them wide. Brienne closed her eyes, but she could never imagine those were Jaime's hands on her, not with the way the nails dug into the thin skin under her knees, and she opened them again.

“Good,” Cersei murmured. “I want you to know it's me who's fucking you,” she said as she pushed into Brienne.

Brienne moaned, her hands gripping the sheets in tight fists. Cersei was slow and methodical with her thrusting, her breath catching each time she buried the dildo deep enough that their pubic bones pressed together. With each thrust Brienne's moans turned sharper, twisted deeper from inside her. Cersei's eyes shone, victorious in some battle Brienne hadn't realized they were fighting.

The door to the room flew open and Jaime burst in, slamming it shut again behind him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded and Cersei went still inside of her. Brienne pulsed and clenched around the dildo, blinked hard trying to understand what was happening, why he sounded furious.

Cersei watched Brienne's face. “Jaime,” the other woman said, her tone calm although her chest was heaving. She pressed herself harder against Brienne.

Jaime strode to the side of the bed, his face a hurricane of emotions: angry and hurt, confused and turned on. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored, dark blue suit, his deep red tie askew. Brienne could only stare up at him, overwhelmed with seeing him like this, his handsome face flushed, his eyes twin flames. “What are you doing?” he repeated, directing the question to Cersei.

Her hands went tight around Brienne's thighs for a moment before she pulled out with a wet sound that echoed obscenely in the room. “What does it look like? We were fucking.”

“You lied to me,” Jaime said between clenched teeth. “You told me she wouldn't be here tonight. I only stayed to help father because of that.”

Brienne gasped and shifted backward, tugging the sheet over herself.

“Then why are you here now?” Cersei asked, her hands on her hips, the dildo thrusting proudly out. It should have looked ridiculous, but the air was too thick with tension to laugh.

“Pod called to check in with me when he saw Brienne was here and I still hadn't arrived.” Jaime smiled sardonically. “He was worried I'd been in an accident.”

Cersei frowned. “I should have paid him off, too.”

“You bribed Clegane,” Jaime said, a flat statement, not a question.

“I needed time with her without you around. You're like a tornado, Jaime. She can't see through you to me!” Cersei's voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched and needy. She stripped off the harness, somehow managing to look graceful as ever while she did it.

“Me? You control everything, you're the only one who does. Everything I've ever done is what you would allow! She wouldn't even be here if you hadn't said yes that first night. The one time I want something for myself and you won't even let me have that.”

“I wanted-” Cersei swallowed the rest of whatever she was going to say and threw the harness to the ground where it thudded on the plush carpet.

Brienne realized between one heartbeat and the next that they had been fighting this whole time, but not through her, as she'd first thought. They were fighting over her. They were opposite pillars, each grabbing an arm and pulling her their direction. Cersei's affections had been issued on her terms, presented in gifts Brienne didn't even realize were so, gifts she never imagined Brienne could refuse, like the car ride, and Jaime tied up, and lying tonight to get her alone. Jaime's affections were more obvious but always offered as though they meant nothing, as if he expected them to be swatted away at a moment: his soft eyes, his texts this week, his asking her to stay the other night. Cersei wouldn't accept a no; Jaime couldn't believe there could be a yes.

Brienne stood then, straightening to her full height, dropping the sheet to the floor and not caring that she was naked. The weight of both their stares was heavy on her flushed and tender skin. “Why don't you ask me what I want?”

“I know what you want,” Cersei said, sounding bitter. “Both of you, better than you do.” She tugged her dress on over her head. “So I'm going to give it to you.” She grabbed her shoes in her hand and left, not quite running from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Jaime stared at the closed door until Brienne said his name. His fingers clenched and he lifted his chin to stare at her like she was a firing squad taking aim. He was stunning, the arrogance pulled around him like a shield, tall and trim in his expensive suit, looking every inch the rich, entitled man he could have been. If he were like any other man, his eyes would have been cruel, but he wasn't like other men. Brienne was learning there were no men like Jaime, for where their eyes would have been ugly with hate, his held only hurt and heat. “What?” he asked tightly. “I didn't mean to ruin your evening by showing up uninvited.”

“Fuck you.” She was angry, she realized, and aching for him. Brienne had been halfway to orgasm when he’d burst in, and her body revived now under his burning gaze, as though she’d been paused only for this moment.

“You never answered my text,” he spit out, moving nearer. She could see his erection straining against his designer slacks. “I believed her because I didn't think you were ever coming back.”

He put his hands where the curve of her hips would be if she weren't a straight trunk and his touch was the fire she had feared when she'd left him last. “I didn't think I would until I was here,” she said, keeping her voice low even though she wanted to yell. “She lied to me, too. I came looking for you. I was waiting for you. Why did you do this to me?” she asked, despairing. “It was just supposed to be sex.”

Jaime's fingers tightened on her hips and he pulled her hard against him, kissing her like they were lovers who had been separated by months, not days. His suit was scratchy against her sensitive nipples and she gasped into his mouth. They devoured each other while she pulled his suit jacket down off his broad shoulders and he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. They pushed and pulled each other to the bed, until he was sitting down with her straddling his lap, and when he thrust inside her she threw her head back and cried out unabashed.

She rode him hard, like she could either fuck away these feelings or bind him to her forever, not knowing which she wanted more. His palms pressed against her sweaty back, branding her, holding her there. He tried to shift and reach her breasts with his hungry mouth but she shoved him down, holding his shoulders in place against the sheets. He groaned low in his chest and his hands slid down to her ass as he thrust hard up into her, relentless, unstoppable. There was only them and this bed, his shirt clinging and partially opened, his tie a line as dark as blood over his chest. Jaime's pants rubbed friction burns along her thighs and it made her move harder against him, hoping it would leave his mark on her when they were done in case that was all she had of him. She stared down at Jaime and he held her gaze, bold, daring her to look away. The time for hiding from this had long passed. She ripped his shirt open, buttons spinning into the dark, to tug and rub at his nipples, scrape her nails down his chest, grinning ferociously when his eyes fluttered shut in surrender. She watched his orgasm hit him even before he stiffened and sped up inside her, but her triumph was short-lived when he pulled her down on top of him, his strength overtaking hers to hold her tightly against him and growl “you're mine,” into her neck, making Brienne come utterly undone just as she was claiming him for herself.

He thrust a few more times and she rolled her hips against him until her body stopped shuddering and they lay wrapped around each other gasping for air for a long minute.

Although he seemed reluctant to let her, Brienne rolled off of him so they were lying side by side on the bed, his shirt brushing her arm, his pants touching the side of her leg. Their breathing slowed, quieted, and she wondered what to say, what she could say to make the dark fear in her be banished forever.

Jaime broke the silence first. “What do you want, Brienne? I'll do anything you ask.” His voice quietly ached, and in that moment her heart came undone as surely as her body had.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” she said gently.

Jaime shut his eyes, his long lashes feathering soft and dark against his skin. “You,” he said, opening his eyes again. He turned his head to look at her. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted like this.”

She wondered how she had ever not trusted him, when he offered up everything he was to her with just a look. But against the loud pounding of her heart her mind still pressed her towards caution, worried she was missing some critical angle.

“Why didn't you tell me before? I don't want to be some win you can get over your sister. I don't want you to be with me to hurt her.”

He frowned and his eyes lit briefly, upset. “It's not like that. You were always my choice, but how could I tell you what that meant? It was just supposed to be sex, remember?" Brienne flushed.

“You said I wouldn't even be here if Cersei hadn't agreed. Why wouldn't her suddenly disagreeing with me make you leave?”

“Things are different now,” he said quietly. He interlaced their fingers and stared back up at the ceiling. The heartbeat of the club's bass thudded underneath his words as he spoke. “When our mother died, our father disappeared. He gave us whatever we wanted that he could buy, but if it required attention or love we had to find it ourselves. You know what it's like to lose a mother when you're little,” he glanced briefly at her, and Brienne nodded. “Now imagine you had no adult to help you through it. Imagine there was someone in your life you loved and you could see how desperately they needed someone to help them but you were just a dumb kid. I didn't know how to help her, I only knew how to love her, and so I did everything she asked because no one else would. I thought that was normal for a long time and by the time I realized it wasn't, it had become normal to me.”

He licked his lips, ran his free hand through his hair. “Cersei's life went out of control when mom died, and so she exerted control over the rest of it, no one more than herself. She picked out Robert and made me introduce them, she convinced him to marry her, she told them they would have three children, each three years apart. She had her whole life aligned and I filled in the gaps where I could and tried to keep our family together even though Cersei hated Tyrion and Tyrion hated her and we all hated our father. And then she found out Robert was cheating on her.” His mouth tightened into an angry line. In profile he looked like a wrathful god. “He wasn't quiet about it and he didn't care if she knew.”

“Why didn't they get a divorce?” Brienne asked, compelled.

“Robert's got it too good and Cersei is too afraid.” That shocked her; she couldn't imagine Cersei Lannister being afraid of anything. “She had a plan and she was seeing it through. They were variables she could control, although one of them was off being a cheating asshole most of the time. But even that she could work around. On her own, with three kids? When our father was just as likely to disown her as help her?” Jaime shook his head. “I bought the nightclub after Tommen, her youngest, was born, thinking she finally had everything she wanted and she wasn't even thirty yet and I should try and do the same. That was three years ago. A year ago she found out about Robert's years-long exploits and started coming here and trying to set me up with random women. It was something she could control when she'd lost control of something else. She used it to try to rekindle things with Robert, too. I did what she said because...” he shrugged. “Because I always did. Until you. Neither of us planned on you.”

Jaime turned his head to look at her fully and she wanted to lean forward and kiss away the nervousness lingering in his eyes.

“I don't want her to dictate what happens between us,” he said quietly. “I don't want you to think she's making me feel this way about you.”

“So what do we do?”

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “We go on a date, just the two of us, wherever we choose. We get to know each other without Cersei.”

“And what about her? You know why she lied about tonight.”

He nodded. “She found out I was texting with you, you know. She was so mad. That's why I didn't send you anything Thursday, I figured I'd let her calm down for a day. I never thought she'd pull a stunt like this. You're a force of nature, Brienne Tarth,” he murmured and she blushed. “We Lannisters are helpless before you. But I don't want to share you with her anymore, not like it was.” He hesitated. “Do you want to keep seeing her? The two of you, separate?”

Brienne considered it, tried to tease apart her feelings for Cersei from where they were entwined with everything she felt for Jaime. It was a complex knot, but even before she'd untangled it entirely she knew the truth. “No. I was always here for you,” she admitted, feeling guilty. “I should have made that clear to her sooner.”

Joy brightened his eyes so they were almost too painful to look at. “You couldn't have known how she felt. I didn't entirely realize it until tonight. Cersei is...complicated.”

Brienne snorted. “You don't say.” She bit her lip. “Is this going to work between us?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “I'm sure of it.” He kissed her slow and sweet and Brienne curled her hand into his wrinkled shirt, desperate to believe him. “Let me show you. Are you free tomorrow for our first date? Dinner and a movie?”

Brienne laughed a little. “I think we've gone at this a little backwards, but yes. Pick me up at six.”

He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand like a promise. “It's a date.”

Chapter Text

“Wait. Wait. Wait wait wait wait WAIT.” Margaery held one hand out towards Brienne and pressed the other to her heart. “You have both Lannister twins in love with you? And one of them engaged in some mummer's play level drama to try to win you over from the other one? How is this your life?”

Brienne took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. “I told you you should have gone back that second night.”

“They clearly have no interest in petite brunettes, Brienne. Wow.” She slowly shook her head, her face a mask of dazed disbelief.

“Besides,” Brienne said, frowning, “no one said anything about being in love. We hardly-”

“Know each other, yeah you keep saying that. Maybe it was love at first sight, did you consider that?”

“That's not love, that's just sexual attraction,” Brienne scoffed.

“There's more than just sexual attraction happening here. You're a little gaga for Jaime at least.”

Brienne's cheeks reddened and she tried to hide it by drinking more coffee, but Margaery just watched her with her smug eyes. “All right fine, I have some feelings for Jaime. But I don't even-”

“Know him, yes we covered that, remember? Like thirty seconds ago.”

“You don't have to keep interrupting,” Brienne grumbled.

“Then stop using convenient lies to hide behind.”

Brienne opened her mouth to retort, and then closed it again. “Oh stop smiling like that,” she sighed. “Jaime is sweet and funny-”

“And hot.”

“And hot,” Brienne agreed. “So hot, Margaery, I can't believe he's real sometimes.” Her body went warm, remembering how he'd looked last night after they'd agreed to their date. He'd turned back from puppy to lion in a blink of his beautiful eyes, and he'd swarmed over her, pulling his tie off to drag the smooth silk all over her skin, between her legs, and then around her wrists, gently tying them together and holding them over her head while he slowly slid his cock into her and then out again in long, leisurely, maddening strokes.

“Oh girl,” Margaery said, grinning at her. “You've got it bad. We should double date so I can make sure he's treating you right.”

“Let us go on a date first,” Brienne laughed. “Then we'll see. We don't even know if we'll like hanging out together without Cersei or sex.”

“Do you know what you're going to wear tonight? Do you need help getting ready?”

“I'm just wearing regular clothes. I want him to be aware of the full Brienne Tarth experience, so he can back out now before it would break my heart.” Margaery just looked steadily at her, and Brienne knew what she was thinking, because she was thinking it too: it was too late to protect her heart if he changed his mind. Now it was just how long after it broke would it take her to collect all the pieces and put them back together.

“Having had a front row seat to the Brienne Tarth experience for many years,” Margaery said gently, “I guarantee he'll be your biggest fan.”

Brienne smiled gratefully at her friend and squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, I'm having a terrible dry spell, tell me more about your sexcapades. I think I might be into the idea of Cersei in a strap-on.”

At 5:53, there was a knock on Brienne's apartment door. She smoothed down the knee length summer dress she wore, having not opted yet for the full Brienne Tarth experience, tucked her hair back behind her ears, and opened the door. Jaime stood there holding a bouquet of cheerful daisies. He was dressed in a pale pink collared shirt open invitingly at the throat, and a pair of dark blue slacks tailored snug around his thighs. She marveled that he was here, staring at her like she was the intensely attractive one.

“I know I'm a little early,” he said, holding the flowers out. “But I couldn't wait a minute longer to see you.”

Brienne ducked her head and saw her own flush spread down her chest to disappear into her dress. Jaime stepped closer and he leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek. The smell of his cologne was fresh with a hint of something sensual, like walking barefoot through soft grass in the sun. She considered skipping the date entirely to see instead what he'd look like in her bed but he stepped back quickly with a lopsided grin.

“Can't get too close to you or we'll definitely miss dinner,” he said and his eyes searched hers for a moment, entranced. “Yes, much bluer in the light,” he murmured.

“It's just the fluorescents,” she protested.

“Then let's get outside so I can compare the differences. I have a reservation for us across town at six-thirty. Are you ready? I can wait out in the car.”

Brienne grabbed her purse from her small table. She'd been ready since five-thirty, just as eager to see him, to see if this was a chance at something real beyond the confines of the warmly lit room in the nightclub. He beamed at her and she took a breath and took his hand after locking the door behind her.

Five hours later she barely got the door unlocked again before Jaime had pulled the scooped neck of her dress down to reveal the simple white bra she was wearing. They stumbled inside, Jaime pressed urgently against her back, kicking the door closed behind them. Brienne turned in his arms and worked at his belt while his hands slid up under her dress and swiftly undid her bra.

The date had gone well.

Jaime had ushered her to a sleek silver luxury sedan, what he introduced as his “regular city car,” and then driven her across town with one hand on the wheel and the other holding hers. Riding in the car had been like riding in a cloud, the seats soft and supple, the only outside noise the low purr of the engine and the rumble of the road when they entered the old parts of downtown and bumped lightly over the cobblestone streets, the suspension hardly even registering them. He'd asked her question after question about herself – what was her family like, where did she work, what TV shows did she like to watch, why did she hate mornings so much – and she'd turned them back on him in kind, through the drive and appetizers and dinner until their plates were clean and they were staring at each other knowing dessert would not be at this restaurant.

“We should go to the movie,” she'd whispered when his fingers brushed over the top of her hand to circle her wrist.

She had insisted on paying for the movie tickets and popcorn since he'd covered dinner, and he'd looked at her as though she was the Maiden herself.

“You must not go on a lot of dates,” she muttered as they waited for the lights to do down, embarrassed by his devoted attention.

“I don't,” he admitted. “Hard to know if they're dating me or my money.”

“Or your body,” Brienne whispered playfully, her cheeks going red.

He'd kissed her soundly on the lips then shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, his eyes smiling. “Like you?” he asked, his mouth full of food and she'd laughed, shoving him lightly.

Brienne had been hyper-aware of him through the movie, their arms touching, their pinkies curled around each other. The theater was full but she imagined moving her hand to his knee, to his thigh, to his cock. She gripped the armrest hard and when the movie ended she quickly stood.

“Bathroom?” he'd asked, his green eyes curious, his hair unbearably soft. As though driven by pure urge alone she'd reached down and brushed her fingers through it and the answering heat in his eyes had them hurrying out of the theater.

On the drive home he'd kept his free hand on her thigh, just under her dress, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles on her flushed skin. They'd sped through alternating darkness and streetlights and talked about the movie, she was pretty sure, but most of the ride had been a blur except for the imprint of his fingers on her.

Now he had his hands completely covering her small breasts and she had finally conquered his belt and top button to release his cock into her firm grip. With his mouth on her neck he'd shuddered at her touch and then said, “wait, hold on” and they both went still.

“Is this okay?” she breathed into his ear.

“Gods, yes, I just-” he'd gasped when she squeezed him. “I thought we should go on at least a couple of dates first.” His thumbs ran across her nipples one more time and then he pulled his hands away and she arched after them. “Oh this is bloody dumb,” he moaned into her neck before stepping out of her reach. “But I want you to know I'm here for more than the sex.”

Jaime looked the ideal picture of desire: tousled hair, dark and electric eyes, his mouth red and wet with kissing, his cock thrusting firm and eager out of his wrinkled pants. “Stop looking at me like that or I won't be able to keep my oath,” he growled.

Brienne flushed and looked away, tugged her dress awkwardly back up to cover her chest. “What oath?” she asked. She heard him groan a little as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up.

“One I foolishly made to myself this morning that I was not going to get carried away tonight. I'm serious about this, Brienne. About you.” She glanced up at him and though the hunger was still there, it was softened with a desperate need that had nothing to do with sex. “Do you know what I thought when I first saw you at the club?”

“Why did I bother with makeup?” she guessed, and he frowned at her.

“Why do you do that?”

Her throat choked with a lifetime of reasons why but she just shrugged. “It's easier to make the first joke,” she said quietly, “less ammunition for others.”

Jaime tilted his head up slightly to search her face, and he shifted close enough to press his palm to her cheek. “I thought that you looked like the most interesting person I had ever seen and you didn't even realize how incredible you were. Also,” he added, grinning a little, “that you had killer legs.”

Brienne shut her eyes but she was smiling, felt her cheeks pull tight. “Margaery said the same thing when she made me wear that skirt.”

“Well Margaery is a smart woman.” Brienne opened her eyes and Jaime leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss her gently. “I want you to believe me when I tell you-” he hesitated. “When I tell you I'm here for all of you.”

She blinked at him, and knew it was going to take a very long time to put her heart back together if this went wrong.

Sunday morning she woke to a text from Jaime in his running shoes on a very familiar looking floor. Brienne blinked confusedly at it and then went to her front door and there he was, smiling hopefully at her.

“I am not going to run with you,” she said.

Jaime pulled out a cup of instant oatmeal and a coffee from behind his back. “Already did my run,” he said, “and I thought I'd bring you breakfast.”

Oh no, she thought, her heart melting. “Can I save that for tomorrow? I have brunch with Margaery and Loras today.”

“Only if I can come to brunch with you.”

Brienne's eyebrows climbed to the top of her head. “Why?”

“Loras gets to bring his boyfriend, why can't you?”

She blushed, saw him grin at the way her face went red and blotchy. “Is that official, then?” she said, trying to be casual about it but hearing in her voice she was anything but.

“I don't want to pressure you but you have seen me tied down naked to a bed.”

Brienne covered her face with her hands. “Oh gods, Jaime, please don't say that at brunch.”

While Brienne got ready Jaime sat at her little table scrolling through his phone sharing interesting trivia he found and, like everything else in her life, it looked better with him there. He'd apparently parked on her street and done his run in her neighborhood, and he changed in her bathroom while she flitted about the apartment trying to tidy it up. It looked plainer in the daylight, much like herself. As she stood in the center of her apartment and looked around – the comfortable but shabby couch, the mismatched kitchenware, the bargain curtains – Brienne sighed, accepting this was the best she could give and he'd just have to be ok with that.

Jaime came out in a pair of casual forest green chinos and a matching plaid button down shirt that made his eyes sparkle in an entirely unfair way. She glanced down at her ill-fitting jeans and purple men's t-shirt and pursed her lips.

“I know the green is a lot,” he said, “but I'm very self-centered and I know everyone will be staring at your eyes, not mine. I had to fight dirty.”

He held her hand as he drove them to brunch.

“Not going to the family brunch today?” Brienne asked as they waited at a light.

Jaime glanced at her. “Tyrion hardly ever goes anymore and Cersei and I aren't talking right now.”

“She still hasn't apologized?”

He snorted. “Cersei doesn't apologize. I'm not convinced she knows the word 'sorry.'”

“Are you still mad at her?”

Jaime drove a block before answering. “Only when I think it might have messed up things with you.” He gripped her hand tighter.

Margaery was already at the table when they got there and Brienne had to hide her smile at the way her friend's eyes went wide, the excited surprise on her face. She stood quickly and hugged Brienne in greeting, whispering “you owe me details later” into Brienne's shoulder before turning and giving Jaime a cool once over.

“Jaime Lannister,” she said.

Jaime gave her a charming smile. “Margaery, a pleasure to see you as always. You are almost as lovely as Brienne.”

Margaery's lips twitched. “Keep that up and I might start to think you're good enough for her.”

“Let's not aim for the stars,” he said, taking Brienne's hand and kissing it. “I'd settle for good enough to clean her shoes.” Brienne was certain she had never been more embarrassed in her life.

Through all of brunch, Jaime was the smoothest she had ever seen him. He'd pulled out her chair when they sat, kept up a cheerful patter with Margaery that was friendly but never overly flirty, and he quickly managed to win Renly over by complimenting him on his shoes, which Renly admitted he'd spent twenty minutes picking.

Loras glared at Jaime for most of the meal, impervious to every smile, witty comment, and kind word, until the end when Brienne had laughed her loud, thunderous laugh at something Renly said and when she'd stopped she saw Jaime looking at her with bowled over awe.

“That's our braying Brienne,” Loras said, “you can always find her in a crowd, even when she's sitting down.” For Loras it meant nothing, the kind of teasing throwaway comment Brienne knew he didn't mean maliciously anymore and that no longer stung. But because she'd been looking at Jaime, she saw it hit him like a ton of bricks and he glared at Loras.

“Say that again and you'll eat your next brunch through a straw,” Jaime said in a low voice.

Their table went silent in shock.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” Loras said, looking annoyed and ashamed. And a little frightened.

“It's okay,” Brienne said softly.

Jaime's jaw shifted but he glanced at her, apparently believed she was telling the truth, and nodded a little.

“Well,” Margaery said, clapping her hands together, “that was invigorating. Time for the sorbet.”

Renly and Margaery engaged each other in enough conversation to drag the rest of the group through the last of their meal and by the time they all stood to say goodbye, the tension had eased. Loras shook Jaime's hand and gave him a calculated stare. He leaned forward to say something to Jaime that Brienne couldn't hear, but Jaime had smiled a little at whatever it was.

“Call me later,” Margaery murmured as she and Brienne hugged goodbye. “We have a lot to talk about.”

On the drive home, Jaime kept both his hands on the wheel, so tight his knuckles were white.

“If we're going to go out together, you can't get upset about that kind of thing,” Brienne said. “It happens so often you'll just exhaust yourself.”

Jaime shook his head. “You haven't met my brother yet, or you'd know I'm well aware of what it's like to be out with someone who attracts rude attention.” But he exhaled and his hands relaxed. “I haven't threatened somebody over Tyrion since we were teenagers.”

“No need to start again on my account. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said quietly. He took her hand. “I just don't want you to feel like you have to.”

Brienne stared out the window and watched the city go by, blinking back unexpected tears.

“This is a full frontal charm offensive,” Brienne told Margaery the following Friday evening. They were talking on the phone while Brienne waited for Jaime to come over. “I'm doomed.”

After brunch, Jaime had deposited Brienne back at her house with a sweet kiss and a promise to see her again on Friday. She was disappointed it would be so many days but he was on a trip all week helping his father's business and he wouldn't be back until that night.

“Don't forget me,” he'd said jokingly as he left, but then he'd spent all week making sure it would be impossible even if she wanted to.

Sunday night he'd sent her a text from the airport of him in his bear slippers. 'flying in style' his accompanying text had said. 'we miss u already'

Monday morning there'd been a selfie of him lying shirtless in his king-sized hotel bed and 'we shld cum here 1 day' with a winking emoji that had her blushing the entire bus ride to work. When she got to work there was a bouquet of daisies waiting for her on her desk with a note that just said, 'Thinking of you. -Jaime.' She'd sent him a thank you text and he'd responded a few minutes later with a kissing emoji that made her smile softly at her phone. That night he'd texted her when she was on her bus ride home.

'hi did u have a good day'

'It was fine. A normal day. Boring.' That wasn't entirely true, as Lysa Arryn from two cubicles over had pestered her all day about the flowers. Brienne had enjoyed being mysterious about them since Lysa from two cubicles over had been her silent nemesis for two years.

'miss u' he sent and then right after, 'miss ur boobs 2' and Brienne had barely stifled her honking laugh in time.

'I'm on the bus!' she'd typed back through tears of repressed laughter.

'wat r u wearing'

'Work clothes. Pants and a shirt.'

'gonna be hard to sext u w that info pretend ur in a skirt'

'What?'

'bc then I cld sit next 2 u n slide my hand up ur thigh on the bus'

Brienne shifted in her seat and looked around but no one was paying her the slightest attention. It turned out Jaime wasn't done.

'u wld be wet when my fingers touched u thru ur panties'

She chewed her lip and pressed her phone to her chest, wishing she were home. Her phone buzzed with another message.

'id lean ovr n nibble at ur ear so I cld hear ur quiet gasp when I slid my finger under ur panties and touched u'

“Oh gods,” she murmured out loud and then blushed and dropped her phone to her lap when the woman in front of her turned her heard a little.

She typed quickly on her phone. 'You're driving me crazy.'

'now u kno how I feel abt u every second'

'Jaime'

'Brienne'

She could hear him saying it and she smiled fondly. 'Give me twenty minutes and then we can pick this up again when I'm home.'

Thirty minutes later she'd been naked on her couch, sweaty from her orgasm, texting with Jaime about a reality TV show they'd discovered they both liked and was on that evening.

The rest of the week followed suit. A text every morning, fresh flowers on her desk at work with a sweet note, and then a text exchange in the evening that started with a recap of their day and ended with Jaime texting her a fantasy that inevitably left her panting. Thursday night instead of good night he'd sent 'c u tomorrow n we can do this 4 real' and Brienne had thought about it late well into when she should have been asleep. He didn't text her Friday morning but there were flowers and the note only said 'Tonight.'

Lysa was apoplectic with unresolved curiosity.

Now Brienne was passing the time waiting by talking to Margaery and staring at the five increasingly big bouquet of flowers Jaime had sent her filling up her small home with their scent and their reminders of him.

“You've been doomed longer than this,” Margaery said.

“I know,” Brienne groaned.

“Are you gonna tell him tonight?”

“I don't know. What if he gets back and sees me again and it's not what he remembers?”

Margaery's sigh was very loud. “Please remember how much I love you when I say that you are also very stupid sometimes.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I mean it, Brie. Jaime Lannister is the safest risk you will ever take. I saw him at brunch and it was obvious even then. The only reason he'd leave you now is if you push him away.”

“None of this makes any sense.”

“Love never does.”

“I'm scared,” Brienne whispered.

“That's okay. But tell him anyway.”

There was a knock on her door. “He's here.”

“Perfect timing.” She could hear Margaery smiling through the phone. “If you want him, go get him.”

They hung up and Brienne opened the door just as Jaime started knocking again. When she opened the door he was there with his luggage, dressed in another one of his expensive suits, his hair a mess, his eyes tired. He was the best thing she had ever seen.

By the look on his face when he saw her, he felt the same.

“Come in,” she said, taking his luggage easily.

“Still not totally used to my girlfriend being as strong as me but still very into it,” he said, following after and shutting the door.

Brienne set the luggage into as much of a corner as she could find and then helped him find a place for his carry-on. “Do you want anything to drink? Are you hungry?” she asked, heading to her fridge to see what she had. She felt him behind her before he spoke, his hands coming around her waist.

“Just for you,” he murmured into the back of her neck.

She turned in his arms and kissed him deeply, holding onto his shoulders with desperate hands. She broke the kiss first and pressed her forehead to his.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I missed you,” she said. “A lot.”

He kissed her crooked nose. “How could you miss me when I barely left you alone?”

She smiled but pulled back. “It's Friday.”

“It is.” His brow crinkled in confusion.

“Does Cersei know about us? That we're here tonight?”

“I haven't talked to her since last Friday. So I assume she knows we won't be at the club.”

“You should text her.”

“Why? I'd rather not start off our first Friday alone by including Cersei.”

Brienne licked her lips. “Specifically because it's our first Friday alone. She deserves to be told, not guess. And I want you to believe me, too, when I tell you...I'm here for you.”

His eyes widened, warmed, and he grabbed his phone, sending a quick message. A handful of seconds later it lit up with a response. Jaime read it and huffed a laugh. “She says she's not an idiot.” He set his phone down on the counter. “Better?”

“Better.” Brienne tugged him closer by his tie. “I'm hungry, too,” she said in a low voice and he wrapped his arms around her like he was drowning, kissed her like only she could save him.

After their first, starving kisses, she directed him towards her bed, smaller than the one at the club but just big enough for the two of them. When they bumped into it, Brienne took a breath and slowed things down, taking her time unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his tie while he kissed her tenderly along her jaw, down the line of her neck. He slid his hands under her cotton t-shirt and she felt his smile on her skin when he discovered she had no bra.

“Good choice,” he said, his lips hot where they pressed into the curve of her shoulder. She'd exposed his chest and she rubbed her hands over him, the small hard bumps of his nipples, the line of fuzz that dipped below his navel, making his belly quiver.

Unspoken they seemed to agree to an unhurried exploration of each other. Though she'd seen every inch of him before it felt different seeing him here in the safe cocoon of her own home, knowing with certainty that she was in love with him.

Brienne removed Jaime's clothes piece by piece, revealing a new area to explore with her fingers and tongue each time: the firm, straight line of his back, the dip by his hipbone, the sensitive skin of his ankles. His cock was hard and leaking by the time she'd tugged off his last sock, kneeling between his feet while he sat on her bed. She leaned forward to lick the shimmering droplets hovering at the end of his cock and he moaned and clenched his hands in her hair, tugging her away.

“Careful,” he panted. And then he'd bent down, his fingers strong against the back of her head as he pulled her up to his mouth, his lips and tongue sending promises and heat flooding through her. “My turn,” he said, tugging her to her feet.

As tall as she was he had to stand to pull off her shirt, but he sat again and pulled her down a little to suck gently at her nipples, using his tongue on them like they were fragile, until she needed his teeth more than his tenderness and she'd keened low in her chest and pressed him harder against her. Jaime looked up at her from between the wide valley between her small breasts, his face serious. “Brienne,” he said, his voice almost a whisper and she kissed him tenderly on his forehead. His eyes closed and he nuzzled into her stomach.

She wanted to tell him then, when she was half-naked and already fully aroused, when his hands were splayed on her back like he'd never let go and she had her face pressed into the top of his head, praying he wouldn't.

She wanted to but her mouth wouldn't form the words yet so she tilted up his head to kiss one temple and then the other, and his whole body tightened against her. His hands slid down over her ass, and then around to the front where he had her jeans undone and down around her ankles with surprising speed. He pressed his mouth to the front of her panties, breathed hot and wet against her and she pressed into him, moaning.

“Lie down,” he said, “please.”

The please nearly undid her. She did as he asked, and he pulled her panties off and threw them over his shoulder with a rogue's sharp grin. Brienne forced herself to be still and not cover anything as he just stared at her, his appreciative gaze traveling from her hair down to her toes and back again. Then he followed the same path with his fingers, and then his mouth, and by the time he'd made the full circuit she was whining, gripping his arms, his ass, trying to bring him closer even as he pressed soft kisses to each eyelid.

“Jaime, please,” she begged and he released a shuddering breath against her hair and shifted down a little.

“I want you to know,” he said when his cock paused at her entrance, when she pushed up towards him trying to bring him inside her, “that what I missed most this week wasn't this,” and he thrust slowly into her cunt, and they both trembled with the delicious agony. “It was hearing you laugh,” he went on, sliding slowly out again. “The way your eyes shine in the sunlight,” he said on another long push in. Brienne was hypnotized by the way his face was clenched in concentration but his eyes were so bright with everything in his heart. “Your nose,” he said, kissing it, “your lips,” another kiss, “the way you say my name when you're annoyed with me,” he slid out and then thrust deep inside her again and she breathed his name like a prayer.

“That's good, too,” he murmured. “This was never just sex, Brienne.” he curved into her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, urging him faster, their sweat-soaked chests slipping against each other as he took her cunt hard, letting his restraint go. “I know it hasn't been long,” he gasped as he pumped into her. “I don't care.” She couldn't bear it, the rough slide of his body, his demanding cock, the softness of his lips at her ear. “I was waiting just for you.” She cried out, going rigid and pulling him deeper into her, holding tight until he was lodged in her heart and losing him would surely break it never to be whole again.

He cried out his orgasm into the side of her neck and she turned her head to drink it in with her lips, until they were both full and still, sharing breaths between them.

Jaime moved a little off of her, settling his head on her shoulder. “Are you good?” he asked sleepily, concerned as always about her. Brienne scooted out from under him and onto her side so she could look him in the eyes.

“I love you,” she said and watched his face transform; the tiredness fell away, the post-sex haze, the tiny lines between his brows, all gave way to the smooth, bright glow of happiness like his heart had lit him from the inside. His was a face made for love, she saw, his soul ignited by it. He touched her cheek with his fingertips, traced the line of her ear, ran them across her thick lips until she felt like she was glowing, too, as he traced his love across her body.

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?” he asked quietly. Brienne shook her head. “When you said 'it's nice to meet you.'”

She laughed a little. “Gods, right after our first time together?”

“No,” he said, smiling like he held a secret he'd been waiting to share. “After I told you our names.”

Chapter Text

They stayed in bed all day Saturday, leaving only for the essentials: food, bathroom, and so Jaime could re-position Brienne's TV so they wouldn't miss latest episode of Mother of Dragons, which they both were addicted to. Brienne spent most of the episode watching Jaime and the way the light flickered over his handsome face. During the last commercial break he growled at her and covered her face with the pillow and in the resulting laughing scuffle they both missed the end of the episode but neither of them cared.

Sunday morning Brienne felt the bed shift much too early and she groaned.

“Going for a quick run,” he whispered in her ear.

“Gyrrrgh,” she managed. He laughed softly and she drifted off to sleep again, only to startle awake sometime later when he pressed his wet, clean-smelling body against her. His skin was hot from the shower still, his body slick when she grabbed him and pulled him closer, suddenly desperate to taste the water on his skin.

They made it to brunch, both freshly showered and smiling as they walked up. Margaery looked at Brienne expectantly and when Brienne nodded a little she pumped her fist in the air. Brunch was a chattering, happy affair, and even Loras and Jaime seemed to have come to an accord, not engaging each other directly but there were no sharp words or hidden barbs, and Loras was solicitous of Brienne, being careful not to say anything harsh that he wouldn't have thought twice about before.

As they got up to leave, Margaery hooked her arm through Jaime's to tug him a bit away and spoke quietly but intensely to him. Renly was off in the bathroom so Loras and Brienne stood shoulder to shoulder watching them.

“What do you think she's saying?” Brienne asked.

“Likely the same thing I told him: that he had better be careful with you.”

Brienne gaped at Loras. “You told him that?”

He frowned at her. “I'm sorry if the things I've said made you think I would ever do otherwise. Especially if the words hurt you.”

“They don't hurt anymore,” she said.

“I'm sorry they ever did,” Loras said. With his soft curls and unusually sincere face he looked like a worried angel. “Surely you know I think of you almost as my own sister now, Brienne?” Brienne swallowed hard, knew her eyes were turning red with unshed tears. “Oh don't look at me like that,” he pleaded in a wobbly voice, patting her arm and turning away. “I don't want to cry in front of Renly. You know how it is with new boyfriends.”

On the way back to his car, Jaime asked if they could stop by Ignite. “With being gone all week for father's business, I'm behind on my own. I could drop you off at your place but I'd rather have you with me.” He smiled, looking like a nervous little boy, a face she hadn't seen on him before, and she knew she'd give him anything he wanted when he looked like that.

Brienne had discovered in just the past few days that Jaime Lannister was a slightly different man in every place they went; that the sexy playboy she'd met that first night had been but one of a hundred different facets of him. She'd discovered the man devoted to his family, the conscientious worker, the thoughtful boyfriend, the obnoxiously dedicated TV fan. But underneath it all was still the uncomplicated, soft center of a man driven by love, and it was that man that smiled most brightly just for her, a gift she would never get tired of receiving.

Truth be told she wanted to stay near him, too, was dreading tomorrow when they'd have to separate so she could go to her work and he could go back to his and his own apartment. A small part of her still feared distance would make Jaime come to his senses about being with her, but mostly she knew she would simply miss him. They hadn't talked yet of a way forward from here, how often they thought they would see each other, what they hoped for and what they expected. Brienne would have let him move in tomorrow if he asked, was terrified to even suggest it. He'd been in her life such a short time but he'd already settled into every nook and cranny of it, making it better, like butter melting into bread.

He held her hand as he unlocked the door to Ignite and ushered her in, locking it closed behind them. The club looked different in the daytime, a movie set waiting to come to life. The normal lights were all on making the empty dance floor and bar seem banal, the emptiness of the building strangely shocking. She saw that there were more than just the booths she'd always been so focused on before, and the other wall had slick couches tucked into the far corners. Podrick was sitting on one of them now, feet up, reading a magazine.

“Hi boss,” he called out when they entered. Then he set his feet on the floor and grinned at her. “Cosmo no tab,” he said cheerfully.

“My name's Brienne,” she said, smiling back.

“Brienne. Pretty name.”

Jaime let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist instead. “Lay off, Payne, she's with me.”

“Not for long, you have to go into the freezer and double-check stock orders for the week.”

Jaime sighed and let Brienne go, patting her on the ass. She glared at him but he smiled beatifically. “Take care of her, then. Brienne Tarth is an honored guest of the owner.”

“Understood, boss.”

After Jaime kissed her quickly he disappeared behind the bar to the back and she stared at Pod, awkward.

“Can I get you anything, Brienne?”

“Something non-alcoholic would be nice.”

“Tonic and lime is refreshing.” He stood up from the couch and headed to the bar. While he mixed he looked her over with gentle eyes. Everything about Pod felt gentle, from his hands at their swift, competent work to his smiling face. When he handed her the drink she lifted it in a toast and took a sip. It was a startling mix of bitter and sweet and Brienne nodded.

“This is good, thanks.”

“Glad you like it. I had expected to see you Friday, I'd tried a new twist on my cosmo recipe but I don't think anyone tasted it.”

Brienne frowned across the bar. “What?”

“Cersei was here Friday and she'd ordered your cosmo for the booth like usual.” He cleaned a glass, shrugged a little. “After she left I went to check and it looked like no one had touched it. I can make it for you next time you're here.”

“Cersei was here? Friday? You're sure?”

Pod's hands stilled where he was now buffing the bar. “I'm positive. I know Jaime was just getting back from his trip but I thought you were coming in from the look of her. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Brienne said quickly. “No, it's- it's fine. I just didn't realize...” She finished her drink and smiled at Pod. “Tell me how you ended up working for Jaime,” she said.

Podrick engaged easily after that, and he shared stories about himself and having Jaime as a boss until the man in question eventually finished his work and stalked over to the bar, mock glaring at them, where they were both laughing loudly. “Whatever he's been telling you, I'm sure he's exaggerated most of it,” Jaime said.

“I've learned many things talking to young Pod,” Brienne teased. “Important things.” She was tipsy, having let Podrick try out his new cosmo recipe on her and then followed up with a deceptively strong Long Island Iced Tea.

“You've gotten my girlfriend drunk in the middle of the afternoon,” Jaime said, his eyes glimmering. “What am I to do with her now?”

“I'm sure you can think of something,” Brienne thought she'd whispered, but they both were grinning at her in a way that suggested she had not. She grinned back, her cheeks stretching with the force of it.

“Clearly I should take her home and take her straight to bed. Pod, can you stay and get things ready until Yara gets here for opening shift tonight?” Jaime asked, his eyes only for Brienne. “I'll pay you double for your time.”

“I can handle it boss. Have fun. Nice to officially meet you, Brienne.”

Brienne couldn't tear her gaze away from Jaime's. “You too,” she managed, and then let Jaime hurry her out the door and back to his car. He pressed her against the car and kissed her hard and she could feel his erection against her thigh. “Are you going to take advantage of me?” she asked in a falsely innocent voice.

He groaned and opened the door for her. “Get in,” he ordered roughly.

Jaime broke every traffic law speeding in a direction opposite her apartment.

“You don't have to kidnap me,” she said, feeling light and floaty. “I'd come with you willingly, you know. I'd go with you anywhere.” Her tongue and spirits felt loose, released from her endless worry.

“How much did you drink?”

“Just two drinks. Two delicious drinks.”

“Mm.” Jaime rubbed his hand down her leg and pushed the engine faster. “I'll have to give Pod a bonus.”

They squealed to a stop in front of an expensive looking complex and as Jaime hurried out of the car to Brienne's side, she saw him toss his keys to a man in a crisp red vest. Jaime yanked open the door but gently helped her stand, and she clung to his arm not because she was dizzy but because she wanted to be near him, couldn't breathe for wanting it.

“Mr. Lannister,” the doorman said, opening it for them.

Jaime nodded and rushed her inside, pushed the up button for the elevator once, then when the doors didn't open immediately, pressed it again, harder.

“Are you in a hurry, Mr. Lannister?” Brienne breathed in his ear, and he looked at her with a face fierce with hunger.

The elevator dinged quietly and he moved them inside, brought out a special fob to get access to the penthouse. As soon as the doors closed he pressed her against the corner of the elevator, his hands skimming up under her shirt, over the soft cotton of her bra, and then around behind, releasing the clasp in a single smooth motion. She felt heat rising through her as the elevator rose, as Jaime lifted her shirt and had her nipple in his mouth in seconds. When the elevator dinged she flinched, expecting to see people there, but it opened into a short, empty hallway that led to a single door.

Jaime tugged her out of the elevator, unlocked his door and when he shut it again he pushed her back against it. He whispered “welcome home” in her ear and then yanked her shorts and underwear off, pulled his off as well, and thrust into her before she could get her bearings. The door was hard against her back but he was a force of nature at her front, fucking her hard into the rich wood, her nails dragging against his shirt, urging him faster, harder still. She bit his earlobe and he snarled into her neck, gripped her tighter against him. She couldn't breathe, the air forced out of her lungs by his strong arms, by the way his cock pounded into her. Brienne closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his craving, felt her orgasm hit like a tsunami, felt his cry where their chests were pressed together so tightly it hurt.

After the storm had passed Jaime relaxed his grip on her and Brienne inhaled deeply, gulping air, smelling only him.

“You ok?” he panted into her hair, his forehead pressed against the door.

“Are you?”

“You looked so carefree,” he said softly. “I didn't know I could love you more.”

Brienne kissed his cheek, overcome. This was too much, too soon, but she could no more have stopped herself from falling utterly in love with him than she could have stopped the sun from rising. She looked past him to the apartment. It was nicer than Margaery's family home even, decorated simply but expensively. “Wow,” she said. “You really are rich.”

Jaime chuckled and pulled back, helped Brienne pull her shorts back on, pulled up his as well. “Let me give you a tour.” The apartment had two bathrooms, a miracle that Brienne could not get over, no matter what else he showed her, including his enormous kitchen. It wasn't until he walked her out onto the patio and showed her the view of King's Landing that she stopped talking about the bathrooms and just stared.

The sun sat low on the horizon, pouring light like melted gold over streets and buildings. Lights were beginning to come on towards the opposite horizon, where the deep blue of twilight was a hint in the distance. From up here the world looked endless and beautiful, a painter's ideal of a city, a place you could find everything you ever wanted.

Brienne placed her hands on the railing and simply breathed it in. She could feel Jaime's patient stare, turned to find him looking at her like she was the thing he had wanted.

“It's stunning,” she said.

“Wait until you see it at night.”

“I'd like that.” She looked back at the city, at the traffic lights changing red to green, the people wandering and living their lives. In the distance was Ignite and somewhere beyond that her small apartment in her quiet neighborhood with her little table. All this time he had been here and she had been there and neither of them had ever known. It seemed almost unbelievable that they would be here together now because she happened to go to the club on a night when they'd both been ready to take a chance.

Brienne thought of Cersei, sitting alone Friday thinking Brienne would show. “Will you give me Cersei's cell number?” she asked suddenly. Brienne glanced at Jaime, saw the confusion she expected. “Everything got cut off so abruptly last time. I know how much you love her and I don't want to come between you two, but I should talk to her myself, clear it all out. Especially if...if what's between us is going to be long-term.” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper for the last part, as though saying it aloud would be a curse, a temptation of the worst kind.

Jaime took her hand and held it against his heart. “I intend for it to be forever.”

Brienne flushed, turned her face to the cool air blowing in from the oncoming night. “Then I should talk to her.”

“Okay,” he said simply. He kissed the tips of her fingers. “What else can I give you, Brienne?”

Everything she wanted to say. Out loud she said, “ a glass of water would be nice. And then I want to see if your bed is comfortable enough.”

They tested it thoroughly and she discovered, in fact, it was.

Jaime drove Brienne home that evening and only left her reluctantly after kiss upon kiss to say good night. He promised to pick her up from work tomorrow and she asked him to use one of his fancier cars to do it. Lysa from two cubicles over would keel over in shock when she saw both car and man arrive for her, Brienne was certain. He texted her when he got home, a picture of his feet in his bear slippers, and she fell asleep smiling.

There was a good morning text when she woke up, and though there were no flowers waiting for her on her desk, at ten to five that evening the front desk receptionist, Gilly, showed up at Brienne's cubicle, her voice high and giggly, her eyes sparkling. “Uh, Ms Tarth? There's a man waiting for you. He said I should come tell you personally.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “He gave me fifty dragons to do it.”

Brienne could feel Lysa's burning stare locked onto the back of her head as Brienne thanked Gilly, carefully packed up her things, and headed for the door. When she came out into the lobby, she inhaled sharply when she saw Jaime. He was dressed in a dark suit so perfectly tailored for his body it was like a second skin, shifting and highlighting his muscles, the gold of his cufflinks reflecting the gold of his hair. He had a bright red power tie on and stood like a well-trained model, one eyebrow lifted in expectation, clutching a bouquet of exquisite red roses like a baby. Brienne knew her whole face was as red as the flowers, but she didn't care when she glanced backward and saw Lysa from two cubicles over staring out the glass doors. Brienne went to kiss Jaime hello and he smoothly brought his arms around and dipped her slightly as she swooned inside.

He lifted her straight again and his eyes were crinkled with laughter, although the look on his face was suave and serious. “Good evening, my love,” he said in a deep voice that registered right between her legs. Jaime gave her the flowers and his arm to hold and Brienne took both. She gave Lysa a small wave as Jaime escorted Brienne out to the sleek, low-to-the-ground car he had driven there. The car itself had gathered a few onlookers, whispering and pointing at it, and Brienne was pleased she managed to wedge herself inside without looking like too much of an awkward giraffe.

Once the doors had closed she exhaled and laughed loudly in delight and nerves, the sound swallowed by the expensive leather interior. “Oh thank you,” she said, wiping away tears from her eyes. “That was more than I had even hoped for. Where did you get that suit?”

“It's my very important meeting suit. I only wear it on special occasions.”

“Probably cost as much as my monthly rent.”

“Probably more than that,” he said, grinning and putting the car into gear. It didn't drive so much as glide along the road, a smooth bullet slicing through air and traffic. “Whose apartment?” he asked.

“Yours, I suppose; I don't have anywhere you can park this thing.”

“You could leave some stuff at my apartment so you can stay over on the weekdays,” he suggested casually, glancing at her.

“That would be nice.” Clothes at his place, maybe even a drawer just for her. It was all exciting new territory. She worried for a fleeting moment how her little table from home would fit into his tailored décor and then shook her head. That was jumping entirely too far ahead and she had another problem to deal with first. Brienne bit her lip and looked down at her phone, knowing she should text Cersei, but somehow afraid. What if she demanded Brienne break up with Jaime or she would never speak to her brother again? Brienne didn't want to pit herself against Jaime's twin sister in a battle for his heart. Whoever won that would still only get half of him in the end. But if she were going to keep a toothbrush in one of his bathrooms, she couldn't just pretend what had happened with Cersei didn't exist. She texted Cersei now as Jaime drove them home, listening to some indie rock satellite station.

'Cersei. It's Brienne. I was hoping we could talk.'

There was no response through one song and then another. Then, as they neared Jaime's complex her phone lit up.

'Very well. When?'

Brienne glanced at Jaime and he smiled warmly at her.

'Friday at my house. Just you and me.'

She didn't receive a response until after she and Jaime had gone inside, gotten undressed, and had each other as an appetizer before dinner. As Jaime put an already-cooked frozen lasagna in the oven, Brienne sat in a pair of his slightly-too-small pajamas at the island and saw Cersei had responded.

'Fine. 9:30 pm.'

“I can't tell if what you're reading is a good message or a bad one,” Jaime said, watching her from where he was leaning against the counter in just a pair of comfortable sweat pants that hung low on his hips.

“I'm talking to Cersei this Friday night at my house.”

“I still can't tell if that's good or bad,” Jaime said wryly. “I should warn you that my sister can be a lot.”

“You don't say.”

“Hush I'm trying to be noble.” Brienne gestured for him to continue. “You should do whatever you need to do for yourself. Whatever happens, I'll make things work between me and Cersei and me and you, and you never have to talk to each other again.”

“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him gently.

“I know. But you don't know Cersei. I'm not sure anyone does, not even me. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for her.” His whole body was tense, his arms folded hard and tight across his bare chest. She could see in him that need to be a shield for everyone he loved: his brother from teasing, his sister from despair, and her from any hurt. She would fix things with Cersei and show him he could rest when he was with her.

“I won't,” she promised. Jaime nodded a little but the worried look in his eyes lingered for the rest of the night.

They settled into a routine that week that seemed simple on the outside but was a revelation to Brienne. Jaime would pick her up from work and then drive them back to his apartment, where they would make use of whatever surface of his home they could make it to before having dinner together. Then Jaime would drop Brienne off at her apartment, kiss her what felt like a hundred times, and leave her to stare around the cramped space and marvel how it felt much bigger and emptier without him in it.

Friday when he picked her up he was tense and quiet as she got in the car.

“You don't have to do this,” he said in lieu of a greeting, and Brienne sighed.

“I do.”

“No,” he said, the car still parked outside her work. “Not for me.”

“I'm not doing it just for you. She was there are the start of this, she deserves to have it ended fairly.”

His lips were pursed tightly. “She already knows.”

“She waited for me at the club last Friday,” Brienne admitted. She had hoped to not have to tell him, feeling like it was somehow betraying Cersei's confidence.

“How could you know that?” Jaime's face was twisted in confusion.

“Pod told me, when we were there on Sunday.”

Jaime started the car, drove slowly to her apartment through the traffic. “She still believed, even then, you would choose her over me. Even though she's married. Even though I told her-” He shook his head and gripped the steering wheel, his fingers flexing over the curves.

“I don't know if she believed it, but she hoped so.” He looked so hurt and angry she brushed her hand over his hair. “You weren't coming back until that night. Maybe she thought I had nothing better to do.”

“I should talk to her.”

“No. I need to make it clear to her what I want first, it's the right thing to do. You have to work out your own problems with her separately. You can't be hers to control anymore.”

“I'm yours now,” he said, half-joking, and Brienne frowned.

“I don't want that. I want you to choose me because you want me, Jaime, not because you feel compelled. I don't want to ever believe you're with me because you're afraid leaving me would hurt me too much. You have to promise me that as soon as I stop being your choice, you'll go.”

He picked up his phone, swiped his finger over it to unlock it. “Look at my texts with Cersei, on the Saturday after our first night together at the club.”

Brienne took it from him, scrolled and scrolled looking for that date weeks in their past now, trying not to read their other messages. Nonetheless she saw her own name come up over and over until she found the Saturday he'd directed. While Jaime kept his eyes firmly on the road, Brienne read the messages.

'You stayed late last night.'

'was tired'

'Did she stay with you?'

'a little while not all nite'

'Do you think she'll come back?'

'hope so I asked her to'

'You're too forward. She was scared to death.'

'just when we startd – she got into it'

'If she does come back next week, we shouldn't do it again. Two weeks in a row would be an unacceptable aberration.'

'fuck that'

'We cannot introduce feelings into this.'

'too late'

'There isn't room for them, hers or yours.'

'i'll make room. if she comes back I want 2 c her u do what u like'

The messages veered off into a seemingly unrelated conversation after that and Brienne looked up to find Jaime glancing between her and the red light.

“I've been choosing you since the first night,” he said. “I promise that in the impossible event that ever changes, I will let you know. Deal?”

Brienne smiled softly at him. “Deal.”

When he parked in front of her apartment building he leaned over to kiss her and made no move to get out.

“Are you coming in?”

“Not tonight. I'm afraid I won't be able to leave if I do.” He kissed her again and she opened the door. As she started to get out he said, “she's most manipulative when she's been hurt, and she's probably hurting a lot. She's not evil, but she's never believed anyone has more right to pain than she does, and she wields it badly.”

“I'm a pretty good fighter,” Brienne said simply and got out of the car.

Brienne cleaned while she waited, ate half a sandwich and put the rest in the fridge, her stomach tight and acidic. She considered calling Margaery to pass the time but decided instead to watch repeats of an old sitcom she'd liked as a kid, until there was a knock at her door just after nine-thirty.

She clicked off the TV, smoothed down her t-shirt, and strode quickly to open the door before she lost her nerve. Cersei stood on the other side, her hair loose, wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a simple green shirt that made her eyes look like sparkling glass. Her hands were clutched tight to a small green purse.

“Come in,” Brienne said, moving out of the doorway.

Cersei took a few steps in and gave Brienne's apartment a full once-over, which still took almost no time. “Quaint,” she said, her voice awkward, like she was reaching for bland and missed. Brienne frowned at the back of her head.

“It's enough for me.”

“It's not just you now, is it though?” Cersei glanced back briefly and then headed for Brienne's small sofa, settling herself as though she'd been a hundred times. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Water, coffee, tea. Some orange juice.” She'd spent so much time at Jaime's this week her fridge was nearly empty. She wasn't even sure the juice was good anymore.

“I'll take water.”

Brienne silently went to get both of them water in a pair of mismatched glasses she'd picked up at some thrift store. When she returned and shoved herself uncomfortably into the other corner of the couch, Cersei took the glass wordlessly.

“Thank you for coming over,” Brienne started, not even sure where to begin. She realized now that Cersei was here, she'd expected the other woman to lead things off with an apology for her lies, but Cersei looked like she was waiting entirely on Brienne. Brienne felt her jaw go tight, tried to breathe down the latent anger. “I thought we should talk.”

“Whatever about?” Cersei said casually, taking a sip of water.

Brienne had planned at least some of what she wanted to say, but Cersei's nonchalance shifted her off-balance. “About why you lied about being at the club last Friday.”

Cersei lowered her water and swallowed. “Who told you that?”

“That's not a denial.”

“Why would I deny it? I didn't realize the extent to which you and Jaime had bonded then. I am well aware of it now.” Her fingers were pressed hard around the glass, going white at the knuckles. “Don't read too much into it.”

“It's okay to be hurt,” Brienne said quietly and Cersei's eyes narrowed angrily.

“What do you know of-” she bit off her own question and sneered. “Well, I assume a woman with your looks knows a lot about being rejected.”

Brienne glanced down at their hands, hers thick and steady, Cersei's slender and trembling. “I do,” she agreed, looking back up. “Which is why I can empathize with how you're feeling right now. It's why I wanted to talk to you, in person. I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

Cersei was pale, except for high spots of color in her cheeks. “Nothing happened,” she said, but her weak tone showed the lie.

“I wasn't trying to lead you on. I thought...I thought the only way to get to Jaime was with you there, too. I should have been upfront with you weeks ago.”

“You should have,” Cersei said after a moment. “But you didn't and now I look like a fool.”

Brienne frowned. “Is that what you think? What you look like is every other person in the world who's wanted something they couldn't have.”

Cersei set the glass down on the small table near the sofa. “Why are you doing this? You have Jaime. I lied to you the last time we were together. What purpose does dragging this out serve?”

“I care about you,” Brienne admitted, and Cersei looked like she had slapped her instead. It had taken all week to realize, as Brienne herself had gnawed over the question of why she was doing this. Part of it was to try to help Jaime, but part was because she had grown fond of his tightly-controlled, domineering, sly sister. She could never be in love with Cersei, especially not when her whole heart beat for Jaime, but she wanted to help the other woman, believed there was more to the glimpses behind the cool exterior that had occasionally slipped free.

“You make no sense, Brienne Tarth,” Cersei whispered, before moving forward almost into Brienne's lap and kissing her gently on the lips. For all that they had done to and with each other, it was the first time they had kissed like this. Cersei's lips were soft and pliable under Brienne's, a slow question instead of Jaime's eager exclamation.

Brienne gently broke the kiss, watched as it was Cersei who flushed and looked down. “I know you're with Jaime,” Cersei said. “I know I can't have this, but I want it,” she said, her voice dipping in a sudden chasm of desperation. “Tell me how to make it happen.”

“I can't,” Brienne said hoarsely. “You can't, either. You have to let go a little.”

Cersei shook her head, her hands wrapped around each other in her lap. “You say that like it's the easiest thing in the world.”

“I wasn't very old when my mom died,” Brienne said, and Cersei's shoulders tensed. “What I most remember is that it felt like the world fell away and nothing I did could bring it back. I don't know what I would have done if my dad hadn't come in and helped rebuild that foundation.”

“I had Jaime,” Cersei said softly. “He was all I had.”

“I know. And he was young, too. You had to rebuild on your own, with him helping. But you've built too much now. If you want more than this you've got to tear some of it down.”

Head bowed, Cersei shook her head a little, her finger swiping briefly at the corner of her eye. “You underestimate the strength of what I've built.”

“I haven't underestimated your strength.”

Cersei laughed a little, a quietly hopeful sound like the chime of an unused bell ringing out after a long, cold winter. “I see why Jaime loves you so much.” Cersei looked up at Brienne, and though the cool mask was back on her face, there were cracks of something that might be warmth in her eyes. “If you were in my situation, what would you do?”

“First I would leave my cheating husband, if I didn't love him.”

“With our three children and my father certain to punish me by withholding funds?”

“Yes,” Brienne said. “Especially when you have Jaime. He wouldn't let you and your children starve on the street.”

“Then what? I get a job somewhere? Maybe at the club? I work all the time to feed my children when I'm not leeching off of my twin brother's generosity and if I'm lucky perhaps find someone to fuck every once in awhile?” The lioness was back, her lips twisted. “There's no happy ending here for me.”

“I don't see why not. You've got money you could tuck away ahead of time, you've got power and reputation, a killer body.” Cersei's snarl smoothed a little at that. “You could have anyone you wanted.”

“Not anyone,” Cersei said, her eyebrows lifting, and Brienne exhaled slowly, struck. “Don't apologize,” Cersei continued before Brienne could speak. “We don't get to choose who we love. We both picked you that night, I just didn't realize I had picked you for me and not for Jaime. I should have lied from the start and told him no.”

“Would it have been better to keep going as you were?”

Cersei didn't say anything to that, just picked up her glass and took a long drink. Brienne watched her, the way she made even drinking water from an old glass an act of elegant discipline. If she could find it in her to accept some uncertainty, to let someone else have even the smallest influence in her life, Cersei would be unstoppable.

“Jaime is too easy to hurt,” Cersei said through wet lips after she'd set the glass back down. “If you doubt for an instant what you feel for him-”

“I don't,” Brienne interrupted, firm.

Cersei inclined her head. “If you do and you use it to harm him, then you will discover the full depth of what I can do.”

Brienne nodded silently.

They stared at each other across the narrow couch, their new understanding settling between them. Brienne couldn't help but think of Cersei naked, demanding everything she wanted and never expecting a no. But what she had most wanted in the end she'd been too afraid to even ask for.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Cersei asked, as though she'd read Brienne's mind.

“Uh.” Brienne flushed, uncertain what to do.

“Not for sex. Though I appreciate you thought it,” Cersei said dryly. “Just to sleep. I'm tired and...not ready to go home.”

Brienne nodded, biting her lip. “I only have this sofa and my bed.”

“I'll sleep in your bed.” She stood fluidly and moved to Brienne's bed, unbuttoning her jeans. Brienne looked away, tried to figure out how she was going to sleep at all on her small sofa. She shouldn't have given Cersei the choice, of course she would choose the bed. Sighing, Brienne glanced at the other woman again and found her setting her neatly folded jeans on the small wooden table. She had on a pair of simple black panties, cut high to show the full length of her leg. She was a beautiful woman, even moreso as she stretched her arms and the constant tension she carried like a burden shifted and eased a little on her body.

Cersei looked back at Brienne expectantly. “Are you coming?”

“What? I-I thought-”

“There's enough room for both of us, if you don't mind being a little cozy. It's up to you.”

Brienne stood, unsure, but Cersei was asking, not demanding, so she removed her pants as well, turned off the lights and made sure the door was locked, went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, going through her normal bedtime routine as though her boyfriend's twin sister wasn't lying in her bed.

It was just after ten, but Brienne was suddenly exhausted, the tension she'd carried all week flushing through her and taking her energy with it. She climbed under the blanket and felt Cersei's warm, soft body next to her, smelled her perfume of night-blooming jasmine. It was dark and quiet in Brienne's apartment, her neighbors either asleep or out. Cersei shifted next to her, breathing slowly.

“Brienne,” she said, her voice as dark and quiet as the night. “Would you hold me? Please?”

Turning to face her, Brienne blinked, trying to see Cersei's face, but Cersei had turned with her back to Brienne. She dug one arm under Cersei's pillow and laid the other one over her slim waist, pulling Cersei gently against her. With each breath, Brienne felt Cersei's body slowly relax, and her hand covered Brienne's, the pads of her fingers delicate on the top of Brienne's hand.

Brienne lay awake a long time listening to the other woman's steady breathing until it lulled her to sleep, and when she woke in the morning, Cersei was gone.

Chapter Text

There were a flurry of texts from Jaime waiting for Brienne after waking to find she was alone.

'how did it go' was the first one, sent last night as she was falling asleep.

'is she still there?' a little bit later.

'r u ok?'

'r u mad at me?'

And then nothing until this morning, fifteen minutes ago: 'Talked to Cersei. Call me when you get up.'

For Jaime it was as formal as an embossed letter, and she texted him immediately, her palms sweaty. 'Just woke up. Missed your texts. I'd rather talk in person.'

He responded immediately. 'I'll drive over.'

Brienne sighed, relieved, and brushed her teeth, set the mismatched glasses in the sink, and wondered what Cersei had told him. In the morning light the memory of Cersei's softness seemed like a dream. Had she only been taking advantage of Brienne, to use it as some sort of weapon against Jaime? If she had, then surely Brienne could make Jaime understand it had only been an act of kindness on her own part.

He knocked lightly on her door and she opened it to find him there tall and handsome and anxious.

“Good morning,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning, Jaime.” She ushered him inside, shut the door behind him again with a gentle click that was still loud in his silence. He looked around her apartment as though he were searching for signs of Cersei and then he sat down at her little table, put his hands flat on the top. He had not stopped to kiss her. “I'm sorry I didn't text you last night,” she started and he briefly held up his hand.

“Cersei called me this morning and told me everything.” The words tipped uncertainly from his lips and Brienne wondered what 'everything' actually entailed. “She said she slept here, with you.”

“She did.”

He looked at her, his whole face drawn together towards his searching eyes, dark and compelling as black holes, pulling her in. “She also said she's going to get a divorce from Robert.”

Brienne's mouth dropped open as she tried to navigate the nerves tightening his frame with what he was telling her. “She did?”

He nodded. “She said it was because of you.” He was almost whispering now, like the strength was leaving him. He could barely meet her gaze. “She said you just talked and I believe that, but did you...are you...” Jaime pressed his lips together so tightly they disappeared, looking like he was waiting for a blow.

Realization struck like a fist to her chest instead, and she gasped, her heart clenching from the strike. “No,” she said. “Not like you're thinking.”

“She's been married this whole time,” he went on, wincing as though the words clawed their way out of his throat, “for years and years never even considering divorce, and now she's changed and she didn't say it but I thought maybe you were waiting to tell me-”

“No,” Brienne said again, firmly. She tugged him until he was facing her and she knelt between his legs, covering his hands when they fell onto his lap. His golden hair was getting longer, the ends curling loose at his shoulders. In the dim morning light, even hunched with the weight of what he thought might have happened, he was still the most beautiful thing in the room, a lovingly crafted sculpture of desperation. “I told her she should get a divorce, but for herself, not for me. Cersei could have been single since the start and nothing would be different between us.” Jaime glanced up at her, the desire to believe burgeoning in his eyes. All this time he had poured out his love for her and she had assumed he would be confident he was loved in return, that he was the kind of man who would never doubt people wanted him, with his looks and his charm and his tender heart. But it was that tender heart that was bleeding in her apartment, convinced and tormented that Brienne would decide to shift her love to Cersei now that his twin would be free to accept it.

Brienne clutched his hands tightly, as though she could press her feelings for him through his skin.

“If you love her – if you wanted to love her – I wouldn't stand in your way. But tell me now,” he rasped, “I'm not strong enough to find out later.”

“You Lannisters are terrible at knowing your own strength,” she gently chided him. “But you won't have to discover that yourself. I care about Cersei, but I'm in love with you, Jaime. I want you.” It would have felt dangerous before to state that out loud, as though being in love was something that had happened to her and wanting to love was a choice he could still deny.

But Brienne knew, the conviction pumping through her in a rush, that Jaime would never deny her anything. He loved her so much he would let her go.

She gripped his wrists and yanked him down onto his knees before her, so fast the chair crashed to the ground like thunder behind him, and they kissed there on the floor kneeling in supplication to each other. He buried his face in her neck and she freed his hands so they could hold on with the ferocity born of wanting to love.

“Tell me again,” he breathed hot against her neck, a plea and a command.

“There will only ever be you,” she murmured into his hair, and he sighed and relaxed against her. “I never told you when I first fell in love with you,” she realized aloud. His lips, which had been leaving tender kisses on her skin, stilled as he listened. “I thought it was when you sent me that picture of you in your bear slippers, but it was before that. It was after our first shower together.”

“It took that long?” he asked pulling back to smile at her like light shining down from the seven heavens. A soul made for love, she thought, cracked open and set free from the last of his doubt and fear.

Brienne nudged Jaime backward, following him down and kissing him hungrily until he was on his back and her knees were planted on either side of him, digging into the old wood floor. She hadn't put pants on before he'd arrived and her panties were already wet as she pressed against his cock trapped in the rough fabric of his jeans. They both moaned as the heat spread between them. Her big fingers trembled as she unbuckled his belt, undid his dampened jeans, tugged them down enough to loose his cock into her grip, pulling smooth skin over hard steel as Jaime hissed. After that they were frantic. Jaime ripped her shirt off over her head, tugged her panties aside and thrust into her, while she held onto his shoulders with hands curved and powerful as a lion's paws and met his every frenzied demand. They stared at each other as she sat tall astride him, his hands clenched at her hips, thumbs pressing into the curve of her pelvis. He slipped a finger down to rub against her clit and Brienne threw her head back, crying out as her cunt throbbed around him, drawing him deeper, and behind the white light against her closed eyes she heard Jaime cry out, his feet pressing hard against the floor until his knees were touching her, curling her towards him. Brienne curved with the pressure, down onto his chest and they both shuddered and she tried not to dig her fingers too deeply into his skin, wanting more of him, now and for the rest of their lives.

Margaery looked at herself in the hallway mirror one last time, adjusting her designer t-shirt, tucking it back into her jeans after she'd pulled it out just a minute ago. “Okay you can knock now,” she said.

Brienne rolled her eyes at Jaime, who smirked and knocked on the door.

Cersei opened it, her cool gaze sweeping over the three of them. “Welcome to my new home,” she said, moving aside so they could enter.

The divorce from Robert, with Jaime's help, had gone mostly smooth. Robert hadn't been surprised according to both Cersei and Renly, but he'd been annoyed and had fought to share custody of the kids he deeply loved. They'd come to an agreement as a family of evenly split time, with two weeks at Cersei's and then two at Robert's for the most stability. Robert kept the house since it had been his family's home, but he'd helped Cersei find a nice apartment in the same neighborhood that could easily fit her and the three kids. It had taken another few months to get Cersei moved and the children acclimated and today was the first day of Robert's first two week stint. Jaime and Brienne had forced Cersei to have the housewarming party she'd refused when she'd first moved in, wanting her to not feel lonely though she would never have admitted she was.

Brienne and Jaime had helped Cersei move and knew the apartment well, so Cersei took Margaery alone on a quick tour while they walked to the living room. Tyrion was already there, drinking, but he didn't look unhappy. Brienne had attended enough family dinners with the Lannisters in the last months to see that they were all doing their best to get over old patterns and hurts and Cersei and Tyrion could even be alone in a room together without them tearing each other apart. Jaime, as a consequence, had become almost unbearably happy, as weight after weight got shifted off of his shoulders alone.

Brienne loved him more with every passing day.

Tyrion smiled when he saw them and patted the couch but when Jaime moved to sit next to him he made a face. “Not you, brother, your girlfriend. You're a bore now, all you do is talk about her.”

Brienne blushed but she sat next to Tyrion and took the glass of wine he poured for her, clinking it against his in a toast. They'd first met months and months ago at Jaime's apartment. When Tyrion had walked in to find her there, nervously standing with her arms hanging awkward at her sides, he'd broken into a huge smile, his mismatched eyes dancing.

“Hello,” she'd said. “I'm Brienne. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Oh you are marvelous,” Tyrion had said, in a way that suggested he meant it sincerely and she'd adored him from that moment on. The feeling, it turned out, was mutual, and inevitably their get-togethers ended with the two of them giggling about something Jaime had done while Jaime tried to look annoyed and his eyes burned with joy.

“She's the most interesting thing in my life, why wouldn't I talk about her?” Jaime was saying now, sitting in the nearby arm chair, beaming at her. Brienne's blush only deepened.

“Disgusting,” Tyrion grunted over the rim of his glass, but he was looking fondly at Jaime. There was another knock at the door and Jaime leapt up to get it, leading Podrick, the last of the invitees, into the room just as Margaery and Cersei returned from the tour.

“It's a lovely apartment,” Margaery was saying. “Your bedroom is wonderful, so roomy.”

“I like the flexibility of the space,” Cersei said, and they exchanged a look that had Brienne's eyebrows climbing up her forehead.

Tyrion coughed and Margaery just smiled and introduced herself to him. Brienne had kept Margaery separate from Jaime's family mostly because of Loras and Renly, but now that the divorce was final Margaery had insisted she be invited, claiming she needed to size up the family of her best friend's boyfriend. Given how she was sitting near Cersei on the other couch, talking quietly with her, Brienne doubted her friend's motivations.

Later that night as they were driving home after dropping Margaery off, Jaime said, “Margaery and Cersei sure got along well,” in a nervous voice.

“They did.” Brienne glanced at him. “Don't worry, Margaery can take her.”

“That's what I'm afraid of. If those two get together, we're all doomed.”

Brienne snorted. “Guess we should enjoy the quiet while it lasts then.”

Jaime smiled at her and she brought his hand up and kissed it. They held hands the whole way home.

Brienne had all but moved into his apartment at this point, the only tie keeping her to her place the fact that her lease didn't run out until the end of the month and she hated to spend the money if she wasn't using it. But they had plans to move the last of their things from her place to his in a couple of weeks and then they'd officially be living together. She still had to put in her address change but that was just a paper designation that would make legal what was already reality.

They talked quietly as they changed for bed, Jaime into his low-slung sweats and Brienne into a nightshirt that brushed the top of her thighs. She was still awake so she walked out onto the balcony, her favorite place in their home. Her little table fit perfectly here, like it had been created to be in this space.

The chairs next to it were new, a pair they had picked together from a local store, padded and big enough for her to feel like she was on a fancy vacation every time she sat in one. They'd spent many nights and mornings in those chairs; talking, arguing, laughing, and, on one notable evening, with Jaime's head between her legs as the sun set red and orange like a bonfire across his broad back and his mouth had created a matching fire in her body. Her fingers had been as deep and wild on his skin as the striations in the table.

It was cool tonight and she shivered a little as the breeze brushed across her bare legs. They'd gone through summer, fall, and winter together and now spring was fully here. She was looking forward to watching the flowers bloom with him, to watching the trees come to life on the streets below.

“I'm going to ask you something,” Jaime said, joining her at the railing. “And you don't have to answer right now, but I figured this would be the place to ask it.” He had that nervous boy face again, hope and fear all swirled together. The smile he gave her was a small, tentative bow that made her heart clench.

He turned to face her, the moonlight illuminating every twitch of his jaw, the smooth curl of his bicep as he held out his upturned hand and opened the small plain box she hadn't realized he'd been holding. Inside was a simple band inlaid with sapphires, sized for her thick finger.

“Oh,” she said, glancing up at him.

“I'm offering me, and my bears, and my two bathrooms for all time, if you'll have us.”

Brienne swallowed around the lump in her throat and stepped into the warmth of his arms, past the ring, to just him. “You are enough,” she said, kissing him, a promise, both a beginning and a continuation of what had been between them since she'd walked in Ignite's door the first night. “But the two bathrooms are a nice bonus.” He laughed softly into her happy smile.

The wrapped around and melted into each other until Jaime was every breath she took, his heartbeat the boundaries of her world. She could get lost forever in the paths his fingers made on her body, his eyes her compass home again. They made love slowly that night, their chests moving together as they breathed, their hearts beating in time.

In the morning when they were still entwined in bed, Brienne texted Margaery to share the good news and her phone immediately started ringing. Jaime kissed the round curve of Brienne's shoulder as she answered, but before she could even say hello, Margaery's delighted screams poured out in an incoherent waterfall of joy.

It felt right to have Margaery shrieking in her ear, while Jaime laughed against Brienne's skin and her heart burst with happiness as she looked at the ring on her finger.

It had, after all, been Margaery's doing.