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We're All Going to Die	By : pip Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and I make no money from this work of fanfiction.

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Chapter Sixteen

Though they rushed to undress, they took their time with everything else. With her everything was to be done slowly, lingered over and enjoyed. Clegane found himself following Tormund's lead in this, trusting him to know, because despite Brienne's confessed fear, the wildling still exuded confidence, and, Clegane was prepared to admit, at least privately, he was amazingly experienced.

Out on the hill, she'd taken them down in her own way again and again. Over the next couple of hours, they took her down between them, again and again, although they had to restrain her when she tried to touch them in her turn, because they had somewhere to be tonight. Clegane couldn't stop thinking about it. It was there right at the front of his brain with every dirty thing they did with her – to her – and she did give in, again and again, until he could reach down with his hand and feel how hot she was, how desperately wet and luscious. And it was so very nearly time.

But there was something different. Though her eyes darkened, and she became lost, she inevitably fought it, coming back to herself as if struggling against drowning in that pleasure. She didn't remain lost, and because of that she didn't relax as she had done with them before. She didn't surrender to them. Clegane wondered if she even could.

She was turned away from him now as she kissed Tormund, and he came up close behind her, his cock hard and hot, heavy as it slid against her thigh. She gasped and froze, but didn't say anything. This wasn't it, but he couldn't resist pressing himself into that welcoming fold of flesh between her legs, much lower down than her cunt. He heard himself growl a little as he kissed her shoulder, and that muscle moved under his lips as she brought her arm down with the aim of touching Tormund. Then suddenly things changed.

“Oh, beauty,” Tormund said, breaking the kiss. “No.”

Clegane drew back as the wildling forced her hand back up, making room as Brienne flopped onto her back on the bed in a temper. “But I want to touch you!” she complained, eyes flashing at them both. “It's not fair!” Tormund didn't let go of her wrist, only pinioned it far above her head, and as Clegane watched he saw the muscles of her sword arm bulge slightly. His cock answered for him, twitching at the sight, and he grinned, leaning forward to kiss her just there.

At the same time, he lowered his hand to test her again, and she parted her legs for him without any encouragement. “Mmm. Very good, Brienne,” he told her, and she was just as hot, just as ready. He thought for a moment, and then very carefully slid a finger inside her. She was definitely wet enough. Brienne suddenly froze, then hissed and almost seemed to thrash on that one finger, her face screwing up, but not in pain. Almost as if she was concentrating.

“Tormund!” she gasped, as if appealing to him. Clegane didn't move that finger, waiting. She was tight around that finger, too tight, and he frowned. He could feel her muscles working on him, trying to push him out, and during a natural lull, he pressed in deeper.

There, and it was worse now. Her pussy constricted upon him, but she was so wet she couldn't stop him. And he couldn't possibly be hurting her.

“Well?” Tormund asked him, one large hand on Brienne's forehead to calm her. Clegane shook his head.

“Too tight,” he said, blowing out a breath. “She's hot for it, and almost dripping. But not relaxed enough by a long fucking way.”

For a moment she stared into his eyes, her muscles clamped around his finger. She seemed hurt, but he was sure there was no pain for her. Had he hurt her? And then he heard himself, discussing her and the reactions of her body as if she wasn't even there, and he winced inwardly. She switched to look at Tormund. “I can't help it,” Brienne whimpered at him, “I can't! It's because I know what's going to happen. I'm bad at this, and I told you. I'm sorry!”

Tormund shook his head, still with that heavy hand on her head. “Hush, now,” he said deeply, his voice so reassuring that Clegane could feel it working on her, via that intimate touch. “It is our work to make you ready. Not yours. You are not bad, Brienne. Everything about you is good.” She blinked and licked her lips. Tormund leaned in, kissing those lips briefly. “Everything about you I want.”

Though he spoke to Clegane next, Tormund didn't take his eyes from hers. “Mmm, let me feel,” he said. And then he moved his own hand, breaking the gaze for a moment or two to check what he was doing. Brienne glared at Clegane.

“Not relaxed enough,” she said, managing to be sarcastic despite everything. “Like to see you face taking his...” She seemed to be hesitant about saying the word. While she was searching around for a less offensive alternative than 'cock' he pulled his finger out of her, and she hissed at him. Then just went right on telling him off. “His...” She frowned, because Tormund was touching her now. Clegane didn't want to look away while she was speaking to him, even if she was having a go at him, but he couldn't help it, and he saw Tormund's hand, thumb circling her clitoris slowly, while his finger pressed bluntly, but didn't enter her. Not quite. “Ahh...” she moaned. Clegane looked up again. “... Well, I don't think you'd be relaxed about it either!”

Tormund laughed, and it was a deep liquid sound that he felt in his gut. He looked, but all of the wildling's attention was on Brienne, and he was looking into her eyes again, and while one thumb was teasing her below, the other was now rubbing over her lips, just enough pressure to distort the perfect shape of them. She was quiet now, but she looked his way just long enough for Clegane to get her back for having a go at him, and he deliberately sucked on his finger, tasting everything of her that he could, grinning around it. She rolled her eyes at him.

Perhaps, somehow, the two of them were conspiring against him, because she turned her attention back to Tormund, almost seeming to fall under some spell as she stared at him, irises darkening as she accepted his thumb into her mouth with a quiet murmur of assent, taking it deep, suckling on it. Clegane's mouth went suddenly dry, and he looked down again, only to find that Tormund had gotten his finger way deeper than Clegane himself had managed to, still teasing her with that thumb. He was breaking her down, with just his thumbs, and it was a bit of a lesson to him in seduction, if he was honest.

“Fuck,” Tormund said quietly, never looking away from her eyes. Clegane mentally shook himself.

“Yeah, right?” he said, assuming that Tormund had now discovered what he already knew.

“I was thinking this before,” Tormund murmured, still quietly, and Clegane wouldn't be surprised if Brienne wasn't even hearing a word. She seemed carried away, lost again. “For a big woman,” Tormund observed, “she is small this way. You and I, Clegane, we will break her easily between us.”

He laughed very slowly, and it sounded as if he relished the idea. “What?!” Clegane muttered darkly.

“You are like me,” Tormund stated softly. He still hadn't broken that gaze with Brienne, and she was becoming livelier, her body writhing a little, her legs bending at the knee as they tried to spread wider apart. She was sucking quietly, her hands laid on Tormund's cheeks to keep him close to her, but clearly she wasn't listening to him speak. “When we have done this, she will be easier, yes. She will always need a lot of time, but... did you ever fuck a woman and thought you broke her?”

“A fair few,” he replied, uncomfortable with where this was going, remembering it. “I don't want to do that to –”

“Yes, you do,” Tormund said. Did he? He thought about it. About how sometimes he might leave them when they could barely move, just faintly breathe, as if he'd stolen all the life from them. He imagined her like that, Brienne, and he was surprised to feel a sudden urge to bury himself in her until she was nearly dead like that. Until she absolutely couldn't fight him any more, in any way at all. “You don't know what it is?” Tormund queried. “Didn't they ever tell you? Any of them?”

Clegane began to get a very bad feeling about this. About the way Tormund was saying it. “They made me pay more for it,” he admitted at last, uneasily, and the wildling laughed... at him. Actually broke that heated gaze he was sharing with Brienne to do it. Clegane bristled, suddenly angry. “What of it?” he demanded.

“Ha ha! Those southern whores you like; they are very clever.” Tormund looked back to Brienne, who had begun to make sounds of protest for losing his attention, her hands pulling at his face to get him back. “You'll find out. When it happens, I'll let her tell you how she feels about it.” Tormund smiled down at her, and she fell under the wildling's spell again.

“There, beauty,” he said, and he withdrew his thumb from her mouth, leaving her lips red and longing for a kiss. “Use me, yes. Use my finger for your pleasure.”

And she really was. Her body was moving on him, fucking herself on that single digit as Clegane watched. Her hands moved down to grip Tormund's upper arms for leverage as she did it, her breath catching. Once. Twice. Again. She quivered and trembled, then moaned, her head falling back as her shoulders came up.

“Tormund...?” She said then, and he lay down beside her, stroking the length of her body with one hand, keeping her on her back, keeping her legs spread nice and wide.

“Stay like this for me,” he said to her. “Stay just like this.” She moaned, but maintained the position, as if she was just waiting for one of them to... Clegane swore under his breath, and wondered if they shouldn't have discussed this beforehand, who would do it, because he wanted her all for himself right now, Tormund be damned. She looked like paradise.

“I have loosened her a little now,” Tormund said. “It might be enough for you.”

“For me?” Clegane repeated, stunned. Was the wildling really just handing her over? Not that he was going to argue the point. Shit, no, he was more than ready!

“Aye. You know what I want to take from her, which way I want to go,” he said, and Clegane did. That ambition they had, to have her together, both of them. There were two ways for Brienne to lose her virginity. They'd have to break that to her after this, because he thought she might have forgotten. “If I hurt her now, do you think she will ever trust me in time, before...?” This was Tormund. Maybe in time, but not before... not in the time they had left.

“No.” He shook his head.

“No,” Tormund replied, and sighed heavily. He shrugged. “So you must do it for both of us, if we are going to enjoy her as we want.”

“I'm still here, you know,” she said then, finally becoming aware enough to pay proper attention. “What are you talking about?”

Tormund leaned close to whisper to her, and what he said Clegane could never be certain, but the way she responded he would never forget. She made a series of small humming sounds, as if she were amused, but also listening to a series of gentle suggestions or instructions.

When the wildling withdrew, she stared at him for a single moment, biting her bottom lip, still red and swollen. Then she turned and looked at him. She used her stomach muscles to sit up halfway and drape her arms over her slightly raised knees, hands on the inside of her ankles, keeping his eyes on her, then dragged her hands up the inside of her thighs as she lie back down. Clegane felt himself drool, and he raised a hand to his mouth automatically.

Still she didn't stop, continuing the path with her hands over the front of her body, raising herself up into her own touch until she reached her shoulders, then she licked her lips and threw her hands up at either side of her head, the inside of her wrists facing outwards. “Sandor...” she said. And here, she must have become too nervous, because she checked with Tormund, who nodded reassurance at her. She looked at him again, her eyes darkening. “Fuck me,” she said, urging him into it with her every breath, and he couldn't stop himself.

Did she know what she'd done? He growled in want as he took position on top of her, in that welcoming space she'd made for him, and he was already using his hand to get his cock in the right place to fuck her deep. It suddenly seemed as if every moment of need he'd felt over the past couple of hours had coalesced all at once. He stared into her eyes, his left hand hand planted on the bed just over her right shoulder, all of his weight held there, and he could feel it, so hot, so wet, all for him, all for his cock and he drew back in preparation to take it from her. And then she blinked, and he saw her fear.

It wouldn't stop him. It couldn't stop him. “Sandor?” And she said his name for herself, not the way Tormund had told her to, because all of that invitation had been Tormund, hadn't it? It had been an illusion. Clegane hesitated for a second. It couldn't stop him, because he couldn't stop.

“It's just once, Brienne,” he said. “Say yes.” And even then he wondered what he would do if she said no.

She gulped, laid her hands on his shoulders, and then breathed deep. “Yes,” she whispered, and he gave it to her as hard as he dared, wanting in at last. He felt her pussy stretch, and then, finally on the verge of feeling it break, she moved too soon, before it could be accomplished.

She cried out loudly, in real pain, and she was moving up the bed away from him, getting away! A primitive part of him growled and he was grabbing at her to get her back to him, while his brain was conflicted.

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” she said, and there were tears in her eyes as she fucking allowed him to bring her back. He hated himself for it, and yet, she gentled her hands on his face. “It just hurt. Sandor, I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to... hurt so...” She drew in another breath, shakier this time. “I'm ready.”

And he'd calmed, because of her. Because she was still resolved on this, and quite suddenly something altogether new occurred to him. Something none of them had even considered, and it made him falter, even though she was urging him on, her lower body pressed against his, her hips raised as she tried to get the angle right, but she was too inexperienced, too clumsy to do it right. She needed his help, his hand to guide himself.

In his mind, one thought was quickly following on from another, and he stared down at her, shaking his head. How did Tormund miss it? And then he knew, because the women of the free folk were wild and fierce, just like Tormund himself. But Brienne? For all that Tormund might dream, she was still Westerosi, she would always be Westerosi, and there was something they were forgetting about her. Something that another woman might have advised her all about, if she'd had another woman to confide in. He suddenly understood, at least a little, as much as he could at any rate, and in that understanding, he put some inches of distance between them. Safe distance, breathing heavily.

“Not like this,” he said, eyes wide and staring at her. “Not yet.”

It was his own thoughts earlier that came back to him now.

She was a woman, but she hadn't lived as one for most of her life. She'd lived like one of them.

What he had been about to take from her was more than something merely physical. It was something more. Much, much more. He remembered her telling the story to them about the attempted rape, and how they hadn't got very far. If they'd gotten far enough – if they'd even touched her – she might have some notion of what she was asking from him. What he was about to take from her.

Brienne of Tarth was fearless, because she was a hard bitch, that was true. It was also true that she felt, like he did, pretty much invulnerable. She was big, scary, and hard to kill. She'd feel vulnerable after this. His mind touched at the edges of it, but he didn't really understand. How could he? And yet he felt it, at least a little. He felt that this might change her in some way that couldn't be put right again. That after this, she might understand what all other women knew but didn't say out loud.

This world was a hard bastard, and women got a bad deal out of it. You only had to walk about in it for one day to see that. And it wasn't because women were weak, really. She wasn't weak. But women were a hell of a lot easier to hurt than men. Even the Briennes of this world were. That was a truth. Wasn't that why he'd protected Arya Stark for as long as he did? After she'd started killing people, couldn't she have taken her chances with everyone else if the world was fucking fair? Yes, and it was because it wasn't fair that he'd kept her with him. It was because it wasn't fair that he'd deemed himself a better protector than Brienne herself when she'd finally shown up with that bloody sword.

When he did this, he'd be showing her that truth, and he'd be showing it to her forever. Clegane found just then he had no taste for it. Not just then. Not until he'd thought about it for a short while, at least.

Although, having managed to think all that through the lust in his brain, he found himself dragging her hand down to his cock all the same as she stared at him. “Please,” he said, needing to feel her hand on him more than his own. Needing something after all that build up, or he'd have to go out and kill someone, and they probably didn't deserve it.

Her fingers curled, gripped and moved on him, quickly, with purpose, and he groaned, raising his body on his arms and letting himself thrust into that hand as if it were her. Tormund was looking on, but he would have to wait. He closed his eyes, and it didn't take long for him to spill, since the perfection of her hand was still fairly new, and the length of her fingers was just bloody fantastic.

Clegane collapsed down onto the bed, his face buried near her shoulder as she patted his hair with her free hand. “What is it? Why didn't you?” She sounded confused, and a little hurt. “Is it me?”

He looked up, right into her eyes. “You?” he echoed, then huffed his remaining breath out. “I'd kill to fuck you, Brienne. I just...” He breathed in deep. “I need time, just like you did. That's all.” And maybe a rather more frank and adult discussion than they'd had so far. That would be bloody good. Even if it was uncomfortable. They were all adults here, weren't they?

Beside them, Tormund shook his head. “If you're not going to do it, Clegane, I will.”

Clegane sat up straight, and all the tension that had been between them before was back again, just like that. “You won't. I've a bloody good reason. So you'll let me recover, and then we'll talk about it. You owe me that.”

The wildling seemed willing to push it, and Clegane narrowed his eyes. “I know what you want. I want it as well. And so does she. So just fucking relax.”

Brienne cleared her throat. “Before you two start fighting, can I have a say in this?”

“No,” Clegane said.

“No,” Tormund growled.

She looked from one to the other of them, and scowled, then she shoved them both out of the way, quite easily, and got up, shaking her head. “Right then, well you can both get out,” she said, pointing at the door. “I've had just about enough of this as I can stand.”

“Brienne,” Clegane said, and she turned her disappointed gaze on him, silencing him.

“Enough. I wanted you. I still want you. Really! I did everything, and you didn't do your bit, so...” She found a robe and drew it about herself. “I don't know what I could have done differently. Enough. Out.”

“Woman, I didn't disappoint you,” Tormund pointed out. Brienne turned on him too.

“No, that's right, you didn't,” she admitted, and Tormund smiled like he knew he'd won. “Right up until the point where you said I don't get a say. Go away. I don't want to think of all this now. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep.”

If they'd thought they had the better of her, after all they'd done, they were wrong, because they soon found themselves on the outside of her door, with a small pile of clothing each that they struggled to get into before anyone could catch them naked outside her door.

“Want to tell me why you just ruined everything for us?” Tormund asked, when they were done, looking at the closed door.

“Tormund...” Clegane grumbled. “She's Brienne of Tarth. She's Westerosi.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it's fucking complicated!” He held out his hands in apology. “I'm going to have to explain it to you over several drinks, and then you'll come to understand how fucked up we all are.”

Tormund sneered, but not nastily. “I know how fucked up you all are.” He gave Clegane a suspicious look. “Is this something to do with rules?”

“Kind of. It's to do with...” He couldn't think of an easy way to describe it, so he went for an equivalent that might make sense. “Well, it's a bit like I was about to take away her Valyrian steel sword and change it for a wooden one.”

The look on Tormund's face was so comical Clegane had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. And then the wildling clapped him on the shoulder. “I think I need some real drink for this explanation. And a fucking decent wank.” Tormund grinned, rather wickedly it had to be said. “You will drink with me Clegane.”

And so, over several drinks of what Tormund called sour goat's milk, and several hours, he explained about women, and safety, and vulnerability, and Brienne, and how she'd lived in a world that wasn't made for her. And by the end of the night, Tormund was quite thoughtful.

“But it must be done,” he said. “Or there is no fun to be had.”

Clegane agreed. “We should talk to her. Tell her what to expect.”

“Hmm... I have noticed you doing this before,” Tormund said, nodding. “She will appreciate that, I think.”

“Yes. I think so too.”

“When she is ready to talk,” he intoned darkly.

Clegane didn't see much trouble in finding her again. He looked at the window, where the light was already greying with the approaching dawn. “She'll show up for training in a couple of hours.”

“How do you know she will be there?”

Clegane twisted his lips in a wry smile. “If I know her, and I do. She can't pass up the opportunity to try and kill us both after that.”

Tormund pulled a face. “I said she didn't have a say. I am a dead man.”

“Well, me too.”

Tormund poured them both another drink. “Ah!” he said. “This is just like the night before a big battle!”

To be continued...

Author's Note: Well, I'm having fun... :)
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