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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 Thirty-one

It seemed to Brienne as she opened her door that it had been an awfully long day. After breakfast, she'd been initially unable to practice, but that feeling had soon passed, and she'd joined in at last, enjoying the return to her usual morning exercise so much that she'd lost track of the time. Indeed, by the time they'd put aside their weapons, it was lunch, and they were all hungry, having worked up an appetite, meaning they'd missed out on coming up to her room in the middle of the day altogether.

They'd lingered over lunch though, and she found that she enjoyed spending ordinary time with the two of them. It was strange, how she'd settled into their company, how she felt able to relax around them both. They were still themselves, crude and horribly vulgar at times. That didn't change at all, and yet, somehow she didn't mind so much. They made her laugh and it felt good. They had things in common, all three of them. They discussed swords and strategy, talked of battles they'd fought in, shared anecdotes.

Sandor tried to hide it, but he shared many of her own ideals even if he didn't call things by the same name as she did, and the more they talked, the more she saw it in him. He might not like knights, but he lived by a code of conduct, just as she did. He'd deny it, of course, if she mentioned it, so she let it pass, but in her heart, her love for him grew. Meanwhile, Tormund seemed blissfully unaware of codes of conduct and such, yet he was very astute where it mattered, and Brienne respected his opinion and his ideas deeply, even if at times they seemed utterly foreign to her.

Brienne was completely at ease, and she loved it all, especially that tingle of electric feeling she got whenever she felt the accidental brush of Sandor's hand on hers, or when Tormund leaned in a little too close, and she felt his body heat. It was all new to her.

She supposed they knew all about it, and some of their teasing might have got out of hand if she let it. She didn't let it. They might be guiding her on this new voyage of discovery, but they weren't going to rule her, and she made sure they knew it. Once most of the nervousness was over, Brienne was surprised to find her own sense of personal power didn't wane, despite the things she got up to with them, but it didn't. Which meant that she was quickly gathering a repertoire of subtle little ways to warn them when they went too far. For Tormund, some not so subtle. Often, subtle seemed to go right over Tormund's head.

Now she was excited again. After lunch there had been more practice out on the hill, and she made it clear as she had all along that when they were out there, it was to fight and to train. She didn't want there to be any confusion about what they were doing, what they were up to. They'd even started to help each other out with strength maintenance, sharing tips and tricks on their favourite exercises. Now, it was done. They'd bathed and eaten dinner. Now it was finally time to enjoy themselves this way, and she felt her body become suddenly eager for it, beginning to burn with desire already, a slight tingling ache inside of her that she'd started to recognise. One of them would ease it soon enough.

Brienne strode through her door and left it open for them to follow her, already unbuttoning her shirt as she turned around to face them when she heard the soft click of the lock. She smiled secretly. Which one first? It was a wonderfully wicked, indulgent thought to have, and shocking. But Brienne found that she didn't care. She'd never say that out loud, probably not even to them, but it was true: she didn't care. Sandor had got it right with what he'd said at the beginning of all this – no one knew what happened between them, but them. It wasn't the world's business. But they were both hers, and the knowledge just made her lust burn all the brighter now that she'd let it live in her, now that she knew what it was, and what it meant. They had so little time. For years she'd wandered, alone in the world, and now she knew she'd been so terribly lonely. Shame could go take a running jump as far as she was concerned.

First, she looked to Sandor, and he stared back at her, all dark and hungry for it to begin. Brienne licked her lips without thinking about it, then turned her attention to Tormund. Oh, but she had something to do with him, something she'd meant to do at lunchtime. She took off her shirt and walked the couple of steps to him. She didn't feel self-conscious. Both of them had shown her, over and over, how much they loved her body. She no longer worried about being tall, or too strong, or ungainly. She felt differently about herself now. She felt desirable in their company, and she was aware of it. She was supremely confident with them.

Just like Tormund had taken that word and made it theirs, so the two of them had erased all of those hard, cold years of self-doubt, and she marvelled at how easily they had done it. She'd been convinced that she was lacking some elusive, ethereal feminine quality, and it had seemed so heavy a burden around her, not easily cast aside, and yet... they had stolen it while she wasn't paying attention. To be free of it was completely exhilarating. Her heart felt light and playful, and she wanted to play now.

This was new, what she was about to do, because she'd been all commanding with Sandor before, and he'd seemed to like it. Tormund... what would he be like? How would he respond? Brienne wondered, but then there wasn't anything to do but try it out. Before they began, and overwhelmed her between them as usual, she had to try it.

She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned in close as he was working on his own buttons, felt his fingers stop in their work. She breathed him in, the scent of him. They smelled different to each other, but both of them pleasant. That scent... it made her want to be closer to him, to his warmth. She sighed, and had to resist the urge to reach out and bury her fingers in Tormund's chest hair. His body hair was exciting to her, just as it was on Sandor too. It marked them out as different to her, as masculine somehow, in a deeper way than the obvious.

She wondered if Tormund understood that part, that she was discovering as many new things about them as she was about herself. The things they'd shown her... before them, she'd never had truly lustful thoughts, not really. She'd never looked at a man and wanted him. Not like she wanted them now. That, just in itself, it was an amazing revelation, because every time she was near them she wanted them that way. Wanted to touch them, to explore and play with them, wanted them to do the same with her. And then... to feel them inside her. Just the thought of it made that ache deeper. She drew in a breath.

“Get on your knees for me,” she said, and paused, just for a moment, “husband.” She smiled at him, and then was astonished when he sank down before her immediately. She laughed lightly. “Hmm, you can get undressed first,” she said, and crouched down to kiss him briefly, to take the sting out of her laughter. “I want to repay the favour,” she whispered then against his lips, the bushiness of his beard against her chin. “You remember?”

“Oh, woman,” he said, and stood up at the same time as she did, feeling the palm of his hand warm on the side of her face as they stared at each other. “Do you mean it?”

The question made her pause. She wanted to say something now, because she wanted to be clear. And it wasn't about what she was going to do, specifically. “Tormund. I want to,” she said. “I want to do things with you, to you.” Here she broke the heated gaze and sought out Sandor for a second. “Both of you. I want to be more than just somewhere for you both to...” She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, grimacing, because she couldn't say it. She knew the words, but she just hadn't the knack of speaking as crudely as they did. It was a force of habit, not easily broken, and anyway she didn't want to speak like that, didn't want to join in so deeply that she became as rough and tumble they were. Then she felt his thumb, stroking tenderly over her jawline, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

“I understand,” he said, smiling, and her heart suddenly felt warm, as if it was opening up inside her chest, and it was all for Tormund. “Just so you know. I've never thought of you that way.” Tormund's eyes flickered to Sandor. “Neither has he.”

She'd confessed to a fear without meaning to, and he'd eased it straight away, but that didn't stop the blush that rose to her cheeks, and she could feel it burning there no matter how much she tried to will it away. Brienne looked down. “Good,” she said awkwardly. “Thank you.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable with it, with the intimacy of it, like there was something they were avoiding speaking of between them, and she knew what it was. She didn't want to say it first, because if she did, all of this might come tumbling down and she treasured it too much to risk it like that. She was happy, truly happy, perhaps for the first time in her life, and she didn't want it to end until it really was... the end.

“Get undressed, and get on the bed. On your knees,” she told him. She said that instead. Instead of saying 'I love you' and he didn't seem to mind so much. They broke apart and she watched him finish undoing those buttons before turning her attention to Sandor.

His gaze was still hungry as he stared at her, already undressed, having beaten them both to it while they were talking, and she stepped out of her breeches, throwing them aside carelessly and striding over to him. Seeing him naked, it made her as hungry as he was. Looking was good, touching was better. He caught her up in his arms and drew her close to him. Brienne felt her eyes drift shut as she reached her arms up, over his shoulders, her hands in his hair.

Being in his arms felt like coming home. Just the sensation of his body heat, pressed against her, the hardness of his muscles. She was strong too, but his body was different. Like Tormund, there was no softness in him, and like the body hair, it seemed to speak to something primal in her, something deep. It made that ache in her tingle again, more insistent this time, demanding to be satisfied. Sandor was very slightly taller than her, and she leaned against him deliberately to enjoy it, turning her head to marvel at the way her cheekbone was on the same level as his jaw.

“What are you going to do to him?” Sandor asked, his breath hot in her ear, tickling in a way that made a shiver of pleasure run through her. His hands had moved down over the back of her waist, down to her buttocks, and now he squeezed her there, pressing her to him, and she could feel him already getting hard. It made her breath catch in desire, instantly imagining how he would feel inside her.

Without thinking about it she raised a leg to hook it over his hip in invitation, wrapping it around him, something deep in her pleased with the way he growled his lust into her ear. Perhaps, to other women, he would be frightening. To her, he was perfect. She'd never been afraid of him, not even when he'd taken her virginity. At least, she hadn't been too afraid to say those words to him, and she smiled as she remembered. She had all her weight on the toes of the one leg that was still on the floor as she tried to get up, tried to get closer somehow.

“What are you doing?” he asked again, and she frowned, wondering. She'd forgotten, perhaps. She let her head fall back so that she could look into his eyes.

“What am I doing?” she echoed, as if he might tell her. She saw his sudden grin, and felt one of his hands drag up her back, his fingertips trailing up her spine. She shivered. “Was it you?”

“Oh, Brienne,” he said. “Honestly, we haven't even got to the kissing part yet,” he teased, laughter in his eyes, and she tried to pull his lips closer to hers, but he was like a statue.

“So get to it,” she demanded, and then he did, and she was happy again. Their kisses were very different. Tormund was like some kind of giant tsunami, all tongue, and he had that great beard. When he kissed her, it was like the end or something. Like after that he could have anything he wanted. When Sandor did it, he always let her play more, and she did.

They tasted different too. Both of them drank – there really wasn't any getting away from that – but on Sandor it tasted sweeter somehow. She indulged herself for a minute, maybe more, and because she could participate more with him, she did actually come back to herself a little, and remember. Tormund was waiting. She drew away, brought a hand back and put it to her lips as Sandor stared at her. Tormund's beard was soft and full, but his was rough and it always scratched. Sometimes, in the private moments when she went to bathe, she'd examine her own chin in the glass, feeling the burn of it where they'd both been kissing her. It was never as red as it felt.

“You get to watch,” she said, teasing as she lowered her leg again, so that she could stand on her own two feet. She reached behind herself to draw his hands back to the front and then turned to lead him to the bed where Tormund was indeed waiting, but not how she'd told him to.

“Will I enjoy it?” Sandor asked from behind her as he followed where she led, his voice warm in her ear again, and she smiled.

“He will,” she said with certainty, then stopped before him where he was seated on the side of the bed. “If he starts doing as I say,” she added, her voice pointed.

Tormund merely grinned, then patted the bed beside him. “Come here, woman,” he said.

Brienne let go of Sandor's hands, and he walked around her to lounge on the far side of the bed, leaving her to face Tormund alone. She bit her lip, wondering whether to obey, or insist on being obeyed. It didn't take long for her to decide, since Tormund always knew what to do, and she settled beside him with her hands in her lap, turning her head to look into his eyes.

All of a sudden, she felt nervous again, and she drew in a deep breath. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked at once, and Tormund shook his head, still smiling.

He reached out to hold her face in his hands, and then kissed her, just for a moment, not quite long enough for that inevitable sensation of surrender to kick in. “You don't have to do this,” he said, “if you've changed your mind.”

“But I haven't,” she protested at once. “I want –”

Before she could say more, he put a finger to her lips. “Then some last words of advice,” he said, taking a breath. “Don't think too deeply about it, and don't be afraid to stop any time you want.”

Brienne nodded. She'd already come to that conclusion herself, but Tormund wasn't finished. “I love you, Brienne.”

She looked down at her lap, then back up at him and smiled. “I love you, too,” she said, and felt immediately relieved for having said it. She felt herself slump a little. “I wanted to say it earlier,” she said, “I don't know why I didn't.”

Tormund's reaction was a little more spectacular than that. He got up, pulled her to her feet then gripped her waist as he picked her up and twirled her around in the air. Brienne screamed. Loudly. One or both of them had picked her up before, in their arms, but this was different and truly frightening. Her weight was completely out of her control, her centre of gravity being flung all over the place, and she clung to him for dear life as he laughed.

“Stop it!” she managed, beating at his shoulders with one of her fists while she clung to him with her other arm. “Tormund! Put me down! Right now!”

At last he did, and she felt the ground, nice and solid beneath her feet again. She looked around her, and Sandor was laughing his head off, rolling around on the bed. Tormund was all pleased with himself. She drew in a steadying breath.

“Don't do that again!” she breathed, shocked, her heart still hammering in her chest. No one had done that to her since she was a very young child. She stared at him in disbelief. “Gods! How strong are you?”

Tormund winked, and she swallowed, taking a step back. She looked him up and down then pursed her lips and blew out her breath. “Well,” she said at last, her own voice sounding a little weaker than she was used to hearing it. “I'm, erm, still going to want you to get on your knees for it I think.”

Suddenly the idea of telling Tormund what to do was incredibly funny, and she giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “Sorry,” she said, but it was all right, because he was chuckling too.

“Oh, beauty,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I don't do what you say because you can make me. I do what you say because you tell me to.” He nodded at her and then got onto the bed on his hands and knees, just as she'd asked of him, and that made her feel serious again all at once.

“Because I tell you to,” she repeated, almost a whisper, enchanted at the thought of having him under her control. He was stronger than she'd ever guessed, but he was also so free, savage, almost, compared to her and Sandor. That he was willing to obey her, it made her feel heady for a moment as she reached out to touch him. It was like having tamed a wild animal. He awaited her touch, and she dragged one hand down over his shoulders to the bottom of his back.

“I do love you,” she said. “I don't know when it began, but I do now.”

Deciding at last to do it, she got onto her knees behind him. She let her her hands move down over his buttocks, and couldn't help squeezing him lightly there, then she slid her thumbs between them and eased them apart. She could see it, dark and wrinkled, and it seemed so tiny, made him seem so vulnerable after what he'd just shown her.

Don't think too deeply about it...

Brienne deliberately kept her thoughts away from what this was, what it meant, how dirty it might seem to anyone but them. He'd done it to her, more than once. However dirty it was, it couldn't be dangerous. She remembered how wonderful it felt, and she truly wanted to make him feel that way. She licked her lips, remembered the lesson he'd given. Less of a kiss, and more tongue. She understood now, as she lowered her head, because she couldn't quite reach far enough into that crease with her lips. But if she used her tongue...

Hard, then soft. She made her tongue stick out and touched him there with it tentatively. Tormund inhaled sharply, and his entire body jumped, then relaxed. More, then, and she let her tongue trace the shape of it, the texture of it, bracing herself for the taste, and yet it didn't taste awful at all. They'd bathed very recently, and she could taste the water from that bathing. It occurred to her quick mind that Tormund had made sure to clean himself here, just in case she should want to do this, and she thanked him silently.

She was aware of Sandor too, sat up beside them, watching closely. No longer afraid, she licked at him delicately, curling the very end of her tongue, just exploring, and he was actually moaning for her. Not deep and low like when he was inside her, but breathy. His voice was pitched a mite higher than usual.

Brienne lapped, letting her tongue relax, just as he had with her, remembering the feel of his hot breath, and she tried to replicate that too.

“Brienne...” Tormund said, and he sounded broken. She smiled.

“More now,” she told him. “I'm going to push inside now.”

She made her tongue hard again, but she was surprised how much pressure it took to get inside of him. Inside he tasted of clean water too, and she hummed her approval at that. Tormund trembled beneath her tongue and lips. She wished she could ask him how it felt when she hummed like that. It must feel good. So she did it again, and again there was that trembling. Then she moved onto twisting her tongue inside him, trying to copy what he'd done to her, but she had no idea if she succeeded or not.

Compared to outside, the inside of him was so soft and hot, like velvet. On the outside that wrinkled flesh had been hard, the same way as the skin around his nipple would get when she bit him there. It was a fascinating contrast. By the time she decided to stop, some minutes had passed, and she was surprised how deep she'd got into him. As she pulled away, it was like his body was clinging to her tongue, and she had to pull harder than she imagined to get it back. Afterwards, she returned to gently caressing his buttocks, realising he'd let his upper body down to the mattress.

“Was that good?” she asked, and Tormund groaned. He drew himself up and sat back on his heels before turning around to face her.

“It was wondrous,” he said seriously. “I don't think I deserve you,” he said, “but I'll take you anyway, my wife, and I'll never let anyone take you away from us.” With that he took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close for a kiss. He was as overwhelming as always, and when he was done, he stared at her.

“Would you like to touch me with your fingers, the way I've touched you?” he asked.

Brienne felt her heart start an excited pitter-patter as she smiled. “You mean there?” she asked, her voice hushed, and he nodded. “Oh, yes! I would! Let me,” she said, trying her best to convince him. She didn't know why but it aroused her all the more, to know that she would give him the same as he'd given her. They'd truly be equal then. “Will you let me?”

Tormund smiled. “I wouldn't do anything to you that I won't let you do to me,” he said, almost the same as she'd said it earlier, and it was like a wonderful secret between them as they stared into each other's eyes. “I'll tell you what to do,” he said, “if you want to try it.”

Brienne nodded eagerly, curious to see what it would be like to touch him that way. “But there is something you should know,” Tormund continued. “It is another difference between us.”

At once she felt worried. “Is it bad?” she asked at once. “Will I hurt you?”

“No,” Tormund said, laughing a little. “No, you won't hurt me, beauty. The opposite. There is something inside me that is like...” He frowned and pulled her onto his lap. “Mmm...” He dropped one of his hands and let a finger slide over her down there, over that little spot that made her moan out loud. “You know this feeling, yes?” he asked.

“Yes!” she gasped, as he continued to tease her. “Oh, yes...” She couldn't contain a moan of regret as he moved that finger away.

“That is similar, perhaps,” he said, then shrugged. “I cannot say. I'd like to feel your touch, just there, in me. Maybe I will cry out just like you do, and plead, and beg for more.”

“You will?” she asked, feeling her eyes go wide at the idea.

“Would that frighten you?” he wanted to know.

“No,” she said, and smiled slowly, imagining it, feeling her own body warm up in response to that thought. Equal indeed! “I don't think so.”

“Let me see...” Tormund suddenly said, taking hold of her hand and examing her fingers. She pulled her hand away, suddenly feeling a little insecure.

“I don't have a woman's fingernails,” she said softly in apology, blinking.

“Good,” Tormund commented, then grinned. “See how perfect you are?”

She laughed, suddenly understanding what he meant by the examination. “It is impossible to argue with you,” she said.

“It's been said before,” Tormund agreed, amiable. “All right.”

He reached and got the oil, handing it to her, and then moved lie face down on the bed, turning his head to look at Sandor, who was seated with his back to the bed head. “You curious yet?” he asked, and Sandor was watching. He'd been watching all along.

Sandor puffed a breath out with a slight smirk, turning onto his side to watch properly. “Don't mind seeing if you're really going to moan like a woman,” he taunted.

Tormund only laughed, but Brienne frowned. She wanted to do this, was looking forward to it, and the thought of it was making something inside her feel all warm and fluttery, almost electric. It seemed like a perfect way to build up to what would come later on. And all at once she knew that she wasn't going to stand for Sandor's taunting, even if Tormund did.

“If you're not going to participate,” she said, her voice icy, “then you can stay there and be quiet.”

Sandor blinked. “Participate?” he asked sharply, glancing at Tormund. Whatever he saw there, it wasn't the answer, and Brienne waited for him to look at her again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I seem to remember the two of you making me feel good with this.” She held up the bottle of oil. “So good that I forgot myself,” she said, remembering, and then she saw him smile as he remembered it too.

“You could help me. Show me what you both did to me, by helping me do it to him first. It would make him feel good.”

Tormund sighed but didn't say a word, and she smiled at him even though he couldn't see her do it.

Sandor seemed to consider it, looking up and down Tormund's body. He bit his lip, then looked at her. “And it's just the...” He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers. Then he pulled an exaggerated face. “You don't want me to start sticking my fingers in anywhere, right?”

It was the strangest sensation. Because a rational part of her knew Sandor was being deliberately flippant, probably to disguise his own desire. Yet another part of her imagined him taking over from her, doing what she planned to do, and she heard herself give a low warning growl that came from deep in her chest. It seemed as though all of her past life had suddenly been wiped away, and what was left was ancient and savage. Sandor's eyes widened in alarm.

“Mine,” she said instinctively, leaning forward over Tormund's body, just in case Sandor was planning to steal him somehow.

He nodded slowly, hands still held up, but now in conciliation. “All right,” he said. “All right, Brienne.”

She was aware of Tormund shifting beneath her, turning over onto his back, but she didn't break the stare she had going on with Sandor, not until he forced her to, getting in between them, sitting up for a moment. She stared right into him, and there was something in him that was the same. He drew in a slow breath, then let it out.

“Yours,” he said, instantly soothing that ferocious, primitive thing in her. “And you are mine.”

Brienne blinked, and whatever spell had taken over her was suddenly broken. She shook herself. Remembered. “Tormund... I didn't mean to. It just... he...” She realised she couldn't explain herself and so she stopped, while Tormund just gazed at her in love and admiration. That was actually quite annoying, and she shook her head at him.

“Sandor, I'm sorry,” she said, and peered past Tormund, just in case she'd managed to scare him or something. He was still staring at her, just as if Tormund wasn't even there. “I think it was just...” And then she knew exactly what had brought that reaction out in her. She blushed. “I think I have to be first.”

“First,” he repeated, swallowing. “I can live with that.”

“Will you still help me?” she queried.

Sandor narrowed his eyes comically. “Aye, just as long as you promise to let me live if I do,” he joked, and she giggled.

“Yes, you idiot. Come closer. Tormund! Lie down again. You should be on your front.”

He obeyed, and she opened the bottle, letting Sandor take it and pour some into her open hand just as he did in his. She copied him as he rubbed his hands together, feeling the oil warm between her palms, the slippery sensation of it between her fingers. They took up position on either side of Tormund, and then Sandor smiled at her, moving all the way down to the bottom of the bed. Brienne remembered, and followed, and as Sandor picked up one of Tormund's feet, she watched everything he did and replicated it faithfully, while between them Tormund let out a long, deep, contented sigh.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Erm, ok, this looks like it might possibly end up in three parts again before I get to the end of it. I'll obviously be continuing with Brienne's pov all the way through. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a word or two on your way out. :)
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