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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 Twenty-nine

Tormund moved to the top of the bed, messing with the restraints on his wrists and they didn't have long. “I warned you. Remember that,” he said considerately, and she nodded.

“I know you did. I want it. Give it to me.”

…

When his hands were free he rolled them over, and as he stared down at her he knew she wanted it, but there was also some trepidation in her eyes. He sighed, held out his hand without speaking, and felt Tormund place that bottle of oil there. It was necessary. They'd been locked together for a while there, not moving, not anything. All of that lovely natural lubrication was almost gone.

“All right, Brienne. I'm going to pull away from you now,” he warned, and she gazed up at him, not understanding. She soon would.

He moved back slightly, and she drew in a startled breath at the feel of it, her legs suddenly wrapping around him keep him inside of her. Her pussy held onto him too, as if they were one, and he could feel the shape and contour of each of her muscles in there. He shook his head.

“Let me go,” he said, and she tried to pull him close with her arms too, but he wouldn't let her.

“I can't! Sandor, it feels different!” she said, almost panicking. Giving in, he pressed a kiss against her lips.

“I know it does.” And he moved a little, just rocking within her, to loosen her a bit.

“Don't you hurt me,” she warned, a little fire in her now as she stared at him.

“Brienne,” he said, hurt himself that she would even say it. “You know me better now.”

At that, it seemed he'd finally gotten through to her, and her eyes cleared a little. Her legs relaxed, and she breathed in shakily. “Nice and slow,” he said, and she nodded. “Easy...”

He actually stroked her body while he did it, because it helped. He cursed himself inwardly for being too big a bastard to actually slip out of her like this. He could feel that dreadful pulling, and he gave her as much time as he could, but then it was done. She trembled below him, still all spread open.

“I won't hurt you,” he said then, already covering his cock with oil. Plenty of it. “But I won't wait for you either now.” He wiped the excess on his hand off against the front of her pussy, and she gasped.

Before she could let that breath out, he was going in again, only this time it was much easier. He'd used a lot of that oil on himself, perhaps too much. A few shallow movements, and then he could get deeper, spreading it out in her with his dick as she gave him startled moans of pleasure.

When he was quite deep, he got her legs over his arms and closed his eyes to properly enjoy it, fucking her as hard as he dared. He could feel his lips turning out in savage need for it, for her, at last. And then he was as deep as he was going to get. He was slapping her now at the end of each thrust, and he opened his eyes to look down and lengthened his movements to watch himself going in each time.

Just slightly too much oil, and he cursed himself again, because though she was as good a fit for him as always, he'd made it a little too easy now. There wasn't quite enough friction, so he would last longer. Perhaps she would feel this one for a week, just like he'd said.

Her body had awoken, but it was too fast, and she couldn't keep up. Her pussy was trembling and squeezing around him but without any kind of discernible rhythm. He fucked her through it as she cried out his name, her head thrown back, her palms flat against his chest, her breasts bouncing about with the force of it. Actually, her entire body was moving a bit, and up the bed, away from him. He slid his hands under her, giving up on the watching for now, and hooked his fingers over her shoulders, so that she was all kind of scrunched up below him.

There. That was better. No getting away for her now. His brain was cloudy with want and need, and he'd forgotten nearly everything but the desire to fuck her, to make her take it – take him – take it all. Closer now, and he was breathing heavy. Her face was close to his, and she was moaning constantly. He nuzzled into her neck, and bit her there, for some reason it seemed important, like payback, though for the moment he couldn't think why.

Now she was breaking, just like the others, and he growled with pleasure as he anticipated it. “Yes...” he said against her ear. “Come on, woman. Let me feel it.” And then she was doing it, almost seeming to vibrate around his cock as he gave it to her, so hard. He didn't know what this was, really, but it felt was like she was climaxing over and over, all at once. It meant the end for him too. She touched him deep with that, somewhere that started just below his stomach, a drawing back that led to an unstoppable, relentless rush outwards and into her.

It was too much for one movement. He only pulled back enough to thrust in again, to let more of it out. A few times like that, and then it was done. His body finally relaxed, and he gentled his hold on her, coming around a little. With a start of self-awareness he lifted his head and stared into her eyes. She was just breathing, just lying there, finished. As they looked at each other, he felt her pulse around him again, much too intense on him, and he pulled out straight away with a hiss of sensation. It was over.

Clegane let her legs down, and they fell onto the bed, much like her arms had done. He rolled onto his back, and then remembered Tormund. The wildling lifted one of her arms up, and then let it go. That arm fell back down to the bed slowly, and he looked at Clegane in amusement. Clegane shrugged.

“She feels good,” he said, just in case the wildling was concerned about the lack of response.

Tormund smiled strangely, then nodded as he arranged her how he wanted. “I'll bet she does,” he replied. He covered her, already reaching down. For him, it seemed like rushing, but then he'd waited a long time to finish himself.

At last, she seemed to understand what was happening, and she blinked. “Tormund?” she said, and then the wildling was in her, deep from the start. The way she moaned then, Clegane had never heard anything like it in his life. It was plaintive and long, drawn out, but there was definite pleasure in it too.

She slid a hand up Tormund's arm, halfway, before giving up and letting it fall. “You'll be quick,” she said, almost pleading, turning her head as her eyes closed. “Won't you?”

“Oh, beauty,” he said, leaning close and gathering her in. “You do feel good around me like this. You squeeze me like you were born to it. But you are so wet now with him, and with that oil he used, and with yourself. So easy to fuck. Quick?” He hummed in pleasure. “I don't think so.”

Clegane licked his lips as he watched them. She seemed to helpless, so lost, and they'd done it to her between them. He'd thought that no one would know about that wild side to her except them. No one would ever see this either. They'd never see Brienne of Tarth overcome and powerless. Even at the point of her death, she'd be dangerous. This was a privilege she granted to them, and he was well aware of it. He reached out to take her hand in his.

“Don't tease her, Tormund, for fuck's sake,” he muttered. Her eyes flickered open, sought him out. She frowned a little.

“Don't protect me,” she said on an outward breath, resentful despite it all, and Clegane blinked in surprise. The wildling laughed.

So that's the way it was? Well, then! In a huff, Clegane pulled his hand away and laid on his back with his arms folded, listening to her feeble little vocalisations, and then he knew something else annoying he could do...

Next time you want to do something like that, do it when I'm in her, not when I'm already done. So as I can enjoy it properly.

Smirking, Clegane got closer, then dropped his hand down and trailed his fingers up the back of Tormund's leg.

“Ahh...” Tormund said, but he didn't say much of anything else, just continued moving inside her. Clegane continued to tease, up and down, very lightly, until the wildling turned his head. All of a sudden, Tormund seemed menacing, and he couldn't have said why. Perhaps it was something in the depths of his eyes. Privately, Clegane conceded that playing with things he should probably leave well alone was getting to be a bit of a habit.

“Up a bit,” Tormund said, something wicked in his stare, and too late, Clegane realised he couldn't back out of it now without coming away the loser. His fingers were just at the back of the wildling's knee. He moved his hand up, over Tormund's thigh, feeling the large muscles there working away.

Tormund grinned in challenge, clearly enjoying himself. “Higher,” he dared. Clegane couldn't look away from the wildling's eyes. He swallowed, but he did it, moving his hand until his palm was resting warm over the curve of Tormund's arse. He could feel that smooth fucking motion, because Tormund hadn't even broken his stride for this.

“Mmm...” Tormund was smirking, imagining something, it was obvious, though what it was Clegane couldn't begin to guess. He frowned, squeezed slightly with his hand, felt that globe of muscle tense, then relax, and again, over and over. He imagined how it might feel to have both hands on him there, to feel every movement as he fucked her, and then he suddenly knew exactly what the wildling was thinking about, and he snatched his hand back with a gasp. Tormund laughed.

“Or maybe you want to be in the middle, hmm?” Tormund asked, as annoying as ever.

“Tormund?” Brienne broke in, and he leaned down suddenly, ending the moment between them.

“I was just playing with him, beauty,” he said, as if in apology, then he hissed in a breath. “You feel so good.” He growled. “It's coming soon now. You feel it?”

She moaned in that tired way. “Yes. It's mine, isn't it? Let me have it...”

Her words seemed to have an effect on Tormund, because he suddenly made a couple of sharp movements, then a few longer, more selfish ones before he clutched her close in his arms, all but shaking himself off inside of her. When he was done, he let her go and withdrew, taking a moment seated by the side of her before getting a cloth from the bedside table.

He moved down the bed, parting her legs where she had closed them.

“No!” Brienne suddenly said. “No more, please, I can't do any more.”

Tormund sighed. “No more, beauty. That's right. You've taken everything we've got. Let me clean you now.”

The most adorable look of discomfort came over her. “Oh, no! I think I should do that. If you just give me a few minutes, I'll get up, I swear it. I just need a little time to come back to myself.”

“Oh,” Tormund said, disapproving. “You'll let me do all those things to you, but not let me care for your body afterwards? Don't fight me, woman.” Then he smiled at her. “Or at least, not yet.”

Clegane didn't see how she could fight. He already had her how he wanted her, but this was about having her agree to it, and she sighed then. “All right,” she said. “Care for me, Tormund.” The wildling smiled, and placed a little kiss on her lips.

“Always.”

It didn't take him long, but then Clegane knew why he had done it. The kind of play they'd done earlier meant it was necessary. After he'd finished at the front, he went to the back and cleaned her there too. It was intimate, and that was why he'd done it. It was all about building trust. After all, if she'd let him do this, then as they went forward, there couldn't be any worry she had that she would be afraid to talk to him about.

Something new occurred to Clegane then. “You've done this before,” he accused. “All of it.”

Tormund smiled at him, nodded. Having finished, he threw the cloth into a pile for the laundress.

“I have,” he said with a heavy sigh, arms draped over his knees, then he looked at Brienne. “But never with so much love.”

They settled at either side of her, while she came around a bit. She stretched out her body, and then frowned at him. “A week?” she said, dubious. He pulled a face and nodded.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Sorry.”

“You warned me,” she said with a shrug. “It's just...” She sighed. “What if we're at war within the week?”

Shit... that was a bit of a downer. Clegane felt the world tilt back to its normal axis after everything they had done. He'd been feeling particularly content, enough so to play with the wildling at any rate. Then he felt her hand on his face, on the scar, and he reached up to grab her wrist.

“How did this happen?” she asked, and he twisted his head to get away from her touch, only to find that Tormund had moved to the other side of the bed, and that he was now in the middle. He'd been worried about this ending up in the middle business. The last thing he'd thought is that he'd end up making his own contribution to their scar stories. But then maybe it was his turn.

“He was pushed into the fire as a baby,” Tormund said. “That's what you told me. Isn't it?”

Clegane nodded, and he closed his eyes, but he could feel them both looking at him all the same.

“It was my brother,” he said, and he heard Brienne draw in a breath of surprise.

“The Mountain?” she queried, and he nodded.

“Mountain?” Tormund echoed.

“His brother is bigger than him, and much taller. He's a monster. Literally, now, after what we saw...” She seemed to realise what she was saying, and her hand was on his arm. “I'm sorry, Sandor. I didn't mean –”

“No. You're right. I don't know what's hidden behind that helm he's got on, but it's not pretty. Or even human now. It matches how he's always been on the inside. It's dead.” He was silent for a moment, thinking. About Gregor, and about all the things he'd done. Things he knew Gregor had done, and things he suspected. “I know exactly what he is. He's hurt more than me. Monster doesn't even start on fucking describing him.”

Murderer.

That word was heavy on his mind now. Gregor had been a curse on House Clegane from the moment he was born. He, Sandor, would end that curse for good. Then he and Brienne, perhaps they could start again. They could do better.

There was silence for a few moments.

“So tell us,” Brienne said softly. He opened his eyes to look at her.

He shook his head. “Why do you want to know?” he asked, because it was grotesque, just like the scar, and she didn't have to hear it. No one had to hear that. No one had to live with it but him.

“Because it's a part of you, and I want to know you.”

“There's lots of me to go around without it,” he pointed out, then raised a hand to touch it. “This?” He pulled a face. “It's an ugly thing. You don't want to know –”

“And I love you.”

Clegane caught his breath, looked into her eyes. His heart felt like it had just gone flying off up to the ceiling somewhere without him. Something in her faltered. “I mean,” she said quietly, “I think I do.” Her voice hardened. “And I'm not marrying anyone who can't tell me all about themselves.”

“Oh?” he said, still feeling happy. He jerked his head at Tormund. “How well did you know him when you got to be his wife?”

“That's different.” She paused, glaring. She folded her arms. “And we're not talking about me,” she said meaningfully, because she was aware he was trying to steer the conversation.

“All right! For fuck's sake!” he grumbled. Tormund chuckled. “I'll tell you. But if you're unhappy for the rest of the day...”

“That's all right,” Brienne said. “There are only a few hours left in it. Away you go.”

Clegane sighed. He closed his eyes again. “I was playing by the fire. There were some toys, a couple of Knights. One of them was his, but he was too old for them. Yet when he found me with it, he pushed my face into the embers. Held me there while I screamed.”

He opened his eyes and blinked. “There. That's it. Happy now?”

“That's not it,” Brienne said, dissatisfied.

“What more do you want from me, woman?” he snapped in a temper, then held his face in his hands. “Do you want me to tell you how it hurt? How my tears hissed back at me from the cinders when I cried? Or how about the smell of my own burning flesh? We smell just like pork, you know, the lot of us. Or perhaps the terror when my hair caught fire? I could smell that for days after.” He pulled his hands away but closed his eyes, so he wouldn't have to see sympathy in her. He didn't think he could fucking cope with that.

“Will that satisfy you? He was bigger and older than me. I was six fucking years old! He wanted to kill me. It took a dozen servants to stop him. Do you want me to tell you how my father covered it up for him? No one knew he'd done it, and do you know what Gregor did to him later?”

Clegane roared in frustration, but he didn't open his eyes. They were both quiet.

“It hurt for weeks,” he said, more calmly. “I had no skin. I couldn't even feel the breath of the air in a room without screaming in agony. When he was at home, he'd come in and taunt me, laugh at me. He'd hold me down and rip off the bandages to admire what he'd done. How he'd ruined me. What he'd done to my face.”

Just saying it brought it all back, just as he'd known it would. He hated it, because he could feel all of that fear and terror again, of Gregor. He hated himself for that. But most of all he felt hate for Gregor, all fresh and bright like a stab wound.

“For weeks I could barely sleep. I couldn't move on that side. I had to eat my meals as soup through a straw. I couldn't chew anything. It hurt too much. The Maester said I'd lose my sight, but I didn't. It took a good long while to come back, though. And when it finally healed, I swore to myself that I'd kill Gregor one day. I wasn't really serious about it until we got older, and I saw what he became.”

“What did he become?” Brienne asked.

“He became a bully who'd gotten away with torturing his baby brother. And when he became that, he decided he could get away with every nasty thing that was hiding in his mind. With anything. And he did everything he wanted to do, no matter how cruel, how depraved, how immoral. There's nothing inside him. Nothing at all. He's worse than any monster. The damned Night King has nothing on him.”

At last he'd done it. Let it all out, as much as he was able to at any rate. He waited for a minute, and they let him, then he drew in a deep breath. “There. I've said everything I'm going to say. I'm done.”

Again, he felt her hand on his face, and he shivered. He opened his eyes, and it wasn't her. His heart jumped as he and Tormund stared at each other.

“You have to kill this man, Clegane,” Tormund said seriously. “He is no brother to you.”

Clegane sighed heavily. “Neither are you.”

Tormund only shrugged, then smirked. “Good job,” he said, with a flirtatious and comical waggle of his eyebrows. Clegane laughed out loud, and it eased all of the tension in him.

“You daft fucking cunt,” he said, and when he looked around, Brienne was giggling too, hand over her mouth.

Clegane remembered what she'd said, and drew her into his arms. “Did you mean it?” He tried to say it tenderly, but realised it came out as a bit of a growl. She nodded, and his heart went soaring beyond the ceiling, right up to play among the stars.

He kissed her slowly, and he remembered the kiss that had started it all. Not the first one. The one where she'd been drunk and she'd pulled him down to her by his hair. “I love you, too,” he whispered in her ear. And because he made sure to whisper it wasn't a growl, it was as it should be.

She cuddled up against him, her body all warm and her curves soft. “Are you all right?” she asked, giving him a concerned look. “If you don't want to sleep, we can stay up for a bit.” She said it, but he saw her eyes already wanting to close, and he grinned.

“Go to sleep, Brienne. I'm all right as long as you're with me.”

There. No one could say he didn't know how to be romantic. He was amazingly pleased with himself as he felt her soften into sleep and the room went dark as Tormund put out the lamps. Then a minute later, a hand crept around him from the other side, and he jumped violently, startling her awake again for a moment.

“The fuck you doing?” he muttered, as quietly as he could. He was full of tension as the wildling snuggled up at the other side of him. He groaned. “I'm in the middle, aren't I?”

“Tonight you are,” Brienne said tiredly. “Go to sleep.”

Go to sleep? Sleep!? With him there all bloody night? Clegane gulped, looked down. Actually, it was too dark to see now, but he could feel Tormund's arm draped over his chest. The rest of Tormund was pressed up against his side. And the wildling was hairy, but fuzzy. Almost furry. Kind of comfortable, in fact, like a living blanket.

“You're on my bad side,” he hissed quietly. “Get back to your half of the bed!”

To his astonishment, Tormund only patted him with that hand. “You don't have a bad side,” he said. Then yawned. “Anyway, you're safe with us. Even with me, for now. Sleep.”

Clegane blinked, with his arm around Brienne on the one side, and his other arm raised high above his head rather than... no! Absolutely not!

Several minutes passed by. Neither of the two of them moved. Tormund snored lightly and nuzzled against him. Slowly, Clegane put that arm down, and let it rest naturally over Tormund's shoulders.

A minute or so after that, he was drifting away himself to welcome dreams of sword fighting with Brienne while they were naked, and they were both winning.

“Huh, at last... Southerners!” he heard, just before he lost consciousness.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it :) Please leave a word or two on your way out.
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