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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.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: It's time for a fairly lengthy note here, if you'll bear with me. As I've been writing this story, it's occurred to me how much I love these characters, how much you all love them, and, how much they love each other. Towards the end, this story is going to go to very dark places. I have been known to write horror from time to time. I like to believe I'm good at it. Particularly despair-filled 'worse than death' endings. However, my plans have undergone a very drastic change. I can take them where they're supposed to go, but I won't leave them there. The Lord of Light, while being capricious and busy playing the longest game of all, is not all that keen on leaving them there either, so that helps.

For a few weeks I've been letting my brain turn it all over, how to stay true to the original plot while suggesting some kind of rescue, and I finally have it. I had it a week or two ago, and I envisaged it as an alternate ending, but now it's growing, which means it's become part of the rest and it will be written. It won't be an alternative ending. It will be one ending. It's added a bit of length to this story, but it will result in a happy ever after, not just for them, but for the whole of Westeros. And when I say 'happy' I mean happy as in everyone will be smiling and it'll be fluffy and you'll feel good. So that won't echo Martin in the slightest.

I am going to save everyone that I possibly can, because I detest killing characters. I never ever kill characters for emotional impact (I like to make them suffer instead). Having said that, there will need to be at least one major character death, possibly two (one of them has kind of been foretold in the show). Not any of the three. There will be a wonderful ending for them, something they probably don't quite deserve. I'll be clear here, I don't much like redemption arcs. All three of these characters are killers. They know they are, and we've seen them at it. Characters have histories, and those histories should not just inform us who they are, but also the limits of their future potential. Kind of like a credit score based on behaviour. If someone is a killer, they can never not be a killer afterwards. There is no redemption in that sense. Luckily, I've decided that if I can piss Clegane off enough when he is rescued, that might just balance out the scales. Plus, it'll be hilarious and provide some light relief leading into said happy ending.

But someone you have seen won't really get out of this. So that's a warning. If it's any consolation, I don't think Martin is going to let this character get out of it either. So there's that.

And if you're still here, on with the show!

I'll admit, some of this is just shameless Tormund/Brienne pornography, but I hope you like it anyway. Also, a little bit of Dom!Tormund comes out, with her and and with Clegane. He can't help himself, lol.

Chapter Thirty-nine

All things considered, by the time they were at Brienne's door, he was feeling a hell of a lot more positive than he had all day. They went in, and almost before Tormund had closed the door behind them, she was pressed close to him, arms around his neck, lips crushed against his. That helped some if he was honest. It had been a long day without her. Beric Dondarrion just didn't compare at all.

He hummed in appreciation, his hands on her waist, and he turned his face just a bit so that he could murmur to her. “Can't even wait to undress, huh?” he teased, happy, nuzzling into her neck a little.

“I've missed you all day,” she said, “both of you.” And she moved her hands, her fingers already working on his buttons. He smiled and then kissed her again. He fully expected Tormund to appear behind her, trapping her between them once more, so it was something of a shock to him when he felt the wildling's body heat against his back.

Startled, he jumped, breaking the kiss. But Brienne had finished with his buttons and it was Tormund who drew his shirt back and off down his arms. Her hands were on his chest, warm palms touching him already, skimming over his skin, and Tormund's body hair felt electric against his naked back. He'd took his shirt off too before joining them.

Before he could do or say anything, Brienne's lips were on his again, and he let his hands move forward to her hips, pulling her body flush against his with a little groan of desire. Then Tormund kissed the back of his neck, and a delicious shiver raced down his spine.

Again, it put him off, and he turned his head. “Wait,” he murmured, his thoughts already pleasantly cloudy as all of his blood rushed downwards. “What are you doing?” Only, he already knew really.

“Nothing more than we said earlier,” Tormund whispered into his ear, his lips tickling in a way that made Clegane want to groan. He'd lost his focus, and unconsciously loosened his grip on Brienne. Now she crouched down a little before him and teased one of his nipples with her teeth, making him cry out, his hands moving to her hair. Gods, is this how it really felt to be in the middle? One of them he could deal with. One of them he could control. Both of them and suddenly he didn't know where he was, what to do with himself, or what they would do next. If this was even a pale shadow of how it felt when they did it to her... Clegane swallowed. No wonder she screamed about it.

“You need me to promise?” Tormund whispered wickedly, and he bit his lip hard.

“A promise?” he echoed then. “From you?” He laughed harshly. He put his right hand down, maybe to try and push Tormund away, only to have it grabbed by the wildling's own, dragged behind him so that he could feel how hard Tormund was already, through his breeches. He hissed in a sharp breath of awareness.

“No fucking,” Tormund said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice. “I promise. But you can touch me.” He paused. “Can't you?”

Clegane hesitated, all the while being slowly driven onward in lust by Brienne. She was at his other nipple now, one hand untying his breeches already, and his dick was already surging hot in anticipation of her touch. Just like it must be for Tormund. Touch him, and pass it on? Why not?

“Come on, Clegane. I won't hurt you, remember? There is no punishment here between us.”

It was as close to a 'please' as he was going to get from Tormund. Clegane closed his eyes and curled his hand around the shape of the wildling's cock, prompting a series of ardent kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck that made him moan.

While Tormund used his other hand to free himself, he tried to encourage Brienne back up with his own free hand, but she backed away out of his reach. Clegane opened his eyes, but she hadn't gone far. Just far enough to pull off her tunic, and he drew in a breath as she got naked up top, then came close to him again.

He kissed her happily, his free hand squeezing one breast as she worked on his dick, long slender fingers wrapped around him. It felt tremendous. At the same time, Tormund had managed to uncover himself and his cock was hot in Clegane's palm as he slid it up and down slowly. Fuck it. This was likely their last night indoors. Why waste it?

“Mmm...” Tormund was almost growling in his ear, hands on his hipbones, fingertips tickling there. “Good.” He realised he could feel the shape of the wildling's mouth again – just like earlier – that he was smiling, that Tormund's lips were dragging over the back of his neck, soft and hot. It felt glorious. That beard of his was a sensation all of its own. A series of those lovely shivers travelled down the length of his body; it made his hips jerk forward, pushing his cock into Brienne's hand.

Brienne's kiss was wonderful though, and he would not break it again, not while he had her breast in his palm, warm and soft, not while she was touching him. He realised his hand on Tormund had fallen into the same rhythm as hers. So what? It felt right. It was right, dammit! He angled his head slightly to make way for Tormund's kiss on the side of his neck, and then all at once it wasn't a kiss, it was a harsh bite.

Clegane cried out, but it was swallowed up in the kiss with Brienne, and neither of them gave him room, gave him space. He might have faltered, except that Tormund's hand was suddenly on his, making him carry on, and he did.

For a brief moment he wanted them to stop, and then he was suddenly certain he wanted it to continue, no matter the consequences. He felt Brienne's hand on him, drawing on him, and he was closer already because of Tormund. Perhaps, even with all of his strength, he staggered on his feet at the onslaught of sensation, caught between the two of them, but they went with him and didn't set him free.

She was the first to back off, breaking the kiss and licking her lips, though her hand still continued to pull at him as she smiled. “Brienne!” he said, almost trembling as he felt it building in him – so quick!

Then Tormund ended the biting, moving those lips to his ear again, close and intimate. “Now you won't ever forget,” he murmured, “who you belong to. Will you?”

That was enough. His body shuddered and broke, and he was captured in the wildling's arms from behind as Brienne milked his orgasm from him. He kept his eyes closed for a long minute as she continued to squeeze his dick, shuddering as she teased the rest of it out of him. He'd given up touching the wildling, and his arms were half-folded around his middle, his hands clutching at Tormund's where he was caught.

When he opened his eyes, Brienne gathered up a fingerful of his essence from the back of her hand and sucked at it, deliberately making a show of it for him, and he groaned as he watched. Then she gathered a little more, and this time held it out. He didn't realise what for until he turned his head slightly and managed to catch Tormund tasting him too, sucking Brienne's finger deep into his mouth. That was the end for him, and he dropped his head.

“All right,” he said, defeated. “Fuck it, you win. We've been in here five minutes and you got me. Both of you. So I give in, all right? Just tell me where to go and what you want me to do with my mouth.”

Tormund laughed out loud, then nudged him forward. “Go over and lay face down on the bed, Clegane. About time you put down a bit of that weight you carry with you.”

Stunned, he turned, stepped back, breeches hanging loosely around his hips, and couldn't avoid dropping his gaze. The wildling was still hard. “You trying to tempt me?” Tormund teased, and Clegane shook his head quickly, amazed at how easily he could imagine himself on his knees. He was on the bed so fast even Brienne giggled at him, then he felt her tugging at his breeches, to get them down his legs and off.

So then he was laid there, just waiting for whatever was going to happen next, and he could hear them conspiring in low voices. Clegane turned his head to look at them. They were stood before one another, quiet now, naked, staring at each other – in love – and they were so beautiful it hurt his battered and blackened heart to see them. They were his, too. How had he managed that? Yet it was true. Content to watch, spent, he expected at any moment to see Brienne go down on her knees, so when it turned out the other way around he was astonished.

Tormund sank down in front of her, just as he had before, and Clegane didn't know why, but there was something surreal about it. He knew without being told that the wildling had been on his knees by choice before just one person in the whole of his life, and that person was her. Perhaps it was just that, but for a moment... Tormund was a King, on his knees before his Queen, in love, and he though that perhaps Brienne had that fairytale dream of hers, after all. Daenerys and her dragons couldn't have outshone Brienne and Tormund just then as the wildling looked up at her.

If he thought he knew who was playing what role though, he had it entirely wrong, because Tormund reached forward, his hands on Brienne's hips, pulling her forward with a sudden jerk. She gasped, and her arms flailed as she looked around her for something to hold onto, finding one of the chairs as Tormund grinned up at her. There was something wicked in him, it was true. Clegane could see it even more clearly when it wasn't bestowed upon him. As he watched, the wildling crouched lower, and poked out his tongue, dark red and shiny for a moment before he buried his face in the front of her pussy.

Brienne cried out, her eyes half closed, hands gripping the back of the chair behind her tightly. Tormund's jaw was moving in a quick rhythm as he worked his mouth and tongue on her, and then he dropped one of his hands to take hold of her ankle, and had her rest her foot on his shoulder. Her moans increased in volume as he continued, and Clegane realised he could see it all. Gods, but it was delicious to watch, and he moistened his own lips with his tongue as he lay there.

She was soon trembling, biting her lip and falling silent as she got closer to the edge. Tormund didn't ease off at all. Brienne breathed loudly in the quiet of the room, just the slightest catch of it in her throat and then surely she was there. At that point, Tormund moved. He stood up, moving her foot from his shoulder until it was over his biceps muscle instead, bringing her arms forward to embrace him. Then he simply reached down and guided himself with his hand, and gave a single sharp movement upwards.

There was a loud, startled cry from her, and she held onto him tightly, but he'd stolen her equilibrium. Clegane could see that. Her hands were sliding over his shoulders, fingers spread wide in an effort to find some kind of anchor for her bodyweight, and Tormund didn't even give her a single second to find it.

“Tormund!” she cried out, her eyes wide and distraught as she looked down at him, because she was higher than him, and yet every movement he made almost lifted her clear from the floor. She was clinging to him, every muscle in her tight. And it must be every single one, Clegane realised, as he watched. Tormund was grinning, all wicked again, his other arm around her arse now, holding her steady for it.

All at once the wildling narrowed his eyes and hissed in a breath of sheer pleasure. “I've missed your pussy,” he said to her, and she shivered, but he didn't stop. True enough, he'd only had her up the arse for the past day or so, while they'd been sharing her. Little hissing breaths and growls were coming from him now each time he moved in her. Brienne closed her eyes, still trying to find her balance, but it was impossible.

At last, Brienne, reached out blindly behind her with one hand for the back of the chair, desperate. She found it, and he could see her relax when she did, her hand grasping tight. She moaned then, and let her head fall back as Tormund chuckled, licking a line up the centre of her breastbone to the hollow of her throat.

When she raised her head she was smiling slightly, her eyes dark, one hand on the chair behind her, while the other was on his shoulder as he fucked her. “Please me, husband,” she said, commanding, just as if the past few minutes hadn't happened at all.

“Oh, woman...” Tormund looked down and seemed to concentrate on what he was doing, breathing faster as he did it. Only Brienne's hand moved to his face, making him look up at her again.

They stared at each other, and she was close again, her eyes changing shape at she moaned brokenly. “Yes,” she said, over and over. “Oh, I've missed you too,” she cried, but it was hard and fast now, and the chair was beginning to scrape over the floor, until it was too far away and she hugged Tormund with both of her arms, clearly too lost in what they were doing to care any more.

When she came, she relaxed, and it was easy to see, because all of her body did it, and yet somehow Tormund managed to keep hold of her like that. He closed his eyes, and he'd stopped, his lips dragging over the front of her shoulder. Then he grunted and thrust upwards again, almost brutal, prompting a surprised moan from Brienne. Then again, and again, until he let go too with a long groan of his own.

For almost a minute, neither of them moved, and then she wriggled. Tormund's arms tightened around her. “I love it when you come inside me,” she sighed. “It feels hot, and right, and I don't know... so nice.”

“Hmm...” Tormund said, and grumbled. “I didn't mean to, beauty,” he admitted, “not yet, anyway. You just felt so good, I couldn't help it.”

“All right,” he said at last, and lifted her off of him, letting her down to her own feet again. He didn't raise his eyes, but looked between her legs, then pursed his lips and puffed out a breath.

“You're a hot, sticky mess now, woman,” he said in fake regret, smiling a little.

Brienne sighed, and embraced him. “Well, I think, after all, I'm getting used to it,” she murmured.

Clegane smirked, and Tormund laughed. Suddenly, Brienne buried her face in his shoulder. “He's listening, isn't he?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled.

“And watching,” Clegane said out loud.

Brienne lifted her head up, and looked around at him. “Well now you have work to do,” she said loudly. “So how about that?”

Tormund grasped her arm. “No,” he said at once. “The agreement was, when I've finished fucking you.” He shook his head. “I'm not done with you yet, woman. Not for the night.”

They stared at each other for a second. “Go do what you need to do,” Tormund told her, “and bring the oil with you to the bed.”

She hesitated, looked between him and Tormund, then suddenly grinned. For a second she looked almost as wicked as the wildling did, and Clegane's heart somersaulted lazily in his chest. “Yes,” she said. “All right.”

She pulled one of the curtains across as Tormund walked to seat himself on the side of the bed. Clegane shifted up slightly to make room, and tried not to flinch when he felt the wildling's hand come to rest on the back of his shoulder. He closed his eyes.

“Are you going to do it now?” he asked, hating it that he was actually nervous. No protest, that's what he'd promised. Clegane gulped. Tormund didn't answer, just kept his hand still. His palm was large and warm, heavy. Eventually, when nothing happened to him, Clegane opened his eyes again.

“You are as bad as her,” he noted. “No. It won't be now. Now we enjoy ourselves.” The wildling sighed heavily. “And you learn to relax, Clegane.” At last the weight of that hand eased a little, until Tormund's fingertips were sweeping down his back, then up again, over and over. Clegane wasn't entirely sure his situation had improved. He'd seen the wildling use this exact same technique on her first, after all. He itched to turn over and make Tormund stop.

“You'll become used to my touch by the end of this night,” Tormund promised, serious.

“Is that what you want?” Clegane queried outright, unable to help shivering. The wildling's caress now was slow and sensual, and everywhere those fingers passed his skin seemed to be prickling in expectation of his return.

“Yes,” Tormund said, nodding. He drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Even if we only ever share her, Clegane. Even if you decide you aren't prepared to go any further. Still can't have you jumping like a startled deer every time we are close to each other. No. We need to be a team. You need to be comfortable around me.”

Clegane bristled at the description, even though, if he was honest, it was fairly apt, considering. “I am,” he protested, despite himself.

Tormund laughed slowly. “Ah-ha,” he said. “'Course you are,” he noted. “Tell me, where does 'I won't bloody well go along with it' fit into being comfortable?”

“Bastard,” Clegane hissed. “That's not fair!”

Tormund grinned at him.

Just then, the curtain moved, and Brienne came to the bed, putting the bottle of oil in Tormund's other hand. She went around drawing the other curtains that belonged to the bed. Before they'd arrived back, servants had been in the room and built up the fire. They'd also lit the lamps. With the bed curtains closed, all of that fire was on the outside, and it meant the light inside was muted and soft. It was much more relaxing for Clegane, who naturally was always a little edgy, even around the smallest of flames.

“What are you two talking about?” Brienne asked lightly.

“Clegane here is just losing an argument,” Tormund told her. She raised an eyebrow, and the wildling shrugged. “Well, he'd just started complaining how it wasn't fair,” he said, and she laughed. Clegane rolled his eyes.

“All right,” he said. “For fuck's sake. You win again. Now what?” he demanded, fairly pissed off. “If it's not now, what do you intend to do?”

Tormund got his hands covered with the oil, and rubbed it between his palms, nodding at Brienne to follow his lead. “What do you think?” he asked. “It's your turn, Clegane.”

“Fuck, no,” he groaned. “I'm no good at relaxing, I swear. Really, I'd rather you just get on with it.” Actually, he'd strongly suspected this, but deliberately denied it in his head. Just the thought of it raised a kind of terror in him that even the war against the dead couldn't conjure. Even the memory of the Blackwater burning didn't inspire horror like this.

Tormund was smiling. “Right, I'm serious,” Clegane said, licking his lips, a little stirring of panic in his heart. “Look. I swear I'll be good without you needing to do this first. See, I'll get on my knees.” And despite the humiliation of it, he actually began to raise himself up, only for Tormund to push him back down to the bed, one large strong hand in the small of his back.

Once, many years ago, he'd been in a whorehouse in some unnamed town somewhere, and a couple of women had tried this kind of ridiculousness out on him. It didn't go well. At least for him. Not really for them either, thinking about it. He swallowed, remembering. “Fuck, no,” he said again, this time in a dull monotone. “Tormund, come on. Please. Don't do this. It's not fucking necessary.”

“Oh, Clegane,” said the wildling, all amused again. “You're just making me more determined.”

“And me,” Brienne put in. “You'll like it,” she said, enthusiastic now. “I promise. It feels wonderful!”

“No,” Clegane argued. “No, it doesn't.” He buried his head in the pillows, and felt every muscle in his body become taut. “Shit.”

Then he felt their hands on his back, lightly stroking, and he groaned quietly. If he didn't give in, if he could somehow endure it, then maybe it would be all right. Clegane held his breath.

“What are you afraid of, Sandor?” Brienne asked, curious.

“I think I know,” Tormund said quietly. “Hmm...” He didn't sound as amused now, only thoughtful. “Whatever happened before, Clegane. When you reacted to this, they didn't go far enough. Trust us. Trust me. I won't give up on you.”

“What is it? Is he going to cry?” Brienne sounded uncertain. In contrast, Tormund didn't sound uncertain at all when he spoke.

“No. I don't think so,” Tormund said. “I think it might turn out to be quite different.” He paused. “Am I right?”

Clegane groaned in embarrassment. Somehow, he already knew, even if he hadn't said it in as many words to her. “Fuck you, ginger cunt,” he swore. “I won't do anything.”

“We'll see,” Tormund said ominously, and Clegane's heart thudded. “But whatever you do, I'll take you to the other side of it. Then you'll feel better, Clegane, and that is a promise.”

To be continued...

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed reading. Please be kind and leave me a christmas present by way of a word or two! Thank you! I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. I don't know when, but I don't get time off for christmas unfortunately.
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