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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
- 39
- 40
Author's Note: Hope you all had a good christmas, and happy new year! Sorry this is a little late, but better than never. Clegane finally gets to relax. Amongst other things... Enjoy! :)

Chapter Forty

“Let us begin then,” Tormund said. To Clegane, there was a very definite air of finality about it, and he shook his head.

“Wait!” he tried, desperate to put it off, to get more time. “Can I have a drink first, at least?” He half twisted as he tried to get up, but Tormund's hands were suddenly heavy as irons on him. Brienne's too.

“No. No drinking. You don't need it,” Tormund told him.

Not of a mind to surrender, he continued to struggle for a moment, flailing his arms around behind him, but there were two of them and one of him and they overpowered him easily – too easily. For the first time during the course of all this, he regretted not becoming involved with much smaller, weaker people. Normal people. The kind he didn't really want. “The sooner you lie still, the sooner it will be over and done with,” Tormund pointed out.

“Fuck me,” he swore, and let it go, burying his face in the pillows again, giving up the fight.

Their hands went back to the smooth stroking of before, until the prickling feeling of waiting for their touch resolved itself into a more sustained tingle of sensation. There was heat, as if their hands were getting warmer, their touch heavier. He could feel his shoulders tensing in expectation, and yet that wasn't where they began to massage him properly.

At the end of a particularly light downward caress, Tormund kept his hands at the bottom of Clegane's back, and Brienne matched him. Everything he did, she faithfully replicated, and Clegane groaned despite himself when he felt Tormund's thumbs pressing against the small of his back, moving upwards and out, unerringly finding the right muscles there to manipulate so that he felt like he was sinking into the bed.

“Ahh...” he said. It was such a little movement, such slight pressure, and yet it felt amazing. He kind of remembered doing this to Brienne, and to Tormund. How it felt was something else entirely. Immediately he began to think this might be a little different, after all. Those women hadn't had the sense or experience of Tormund. The wildling knew exactly what he was doing, except...

“Hey,” he said slowly, frowning, suddenly suspicious. “Wait. I thought you start with the feet?”

Tormund didn't cease in his efforts, trailing fingertips down his sides only to begin again, Brienne mirroring him on the other side, and Clegane couldn't help voicing a sensual moan before he received an answer.

“With her, I start at the feet. With you, this is where we start. We'll return here again when we've taken care of the rest of your body.”

Clegane could feel it working on him no matter what he did, and very slowly the wildling moved up his back. It was always the same repetitive movement, up and outwards, then the light touch back down. It felt like the massage had a direction. Even when it was broken up by more of that easy, warm stroking, their palms seeming to hug the shape of his body.

Their touch was heavy, but the bed was soft, and their hands were like heaven, except for that direction. Soon, they would be at his shoulders, and he drew in a sudden deep breath of alarm. Perhaps he became tense, but the wildling responded by going right back to the beginning, low in the centre of his back, until he felt like he was melting again, and then Clegane knew he had a stupid grin on his face because he could feel it.

He didn't even mind that they talked about him in soft murmurs, just as long as they kept touching him like that.

“Why do we begin again?” Brienne asked quietly.

“Did you feel how his body responded?” Tormund said. “That sudden tightness? The most important lesson you should learn here with me is patience. Good relaxation can never be rushed.”

“I see. Why did he respond that way? Did we do something wrong? Did I do something?”

“No, beauty.” Tormund sighed. “It's because he expects pain.”

“Oh, Sandor! Why?” Brienne breathed, her hands faltering.

“Pain is coming,” Clegane put in, disturbed by the tenor of his own voice. It sounded lazy and slow. “It's always coming. As reliable as night following day. You'd think the Starks might have learnt. Mmm...” he groaned, stretching a little, then relaxing again. “Maybe they should change their motto.” He smirked to himself. Arya might even like it better, given that list of hers.

Everything went quiet except for the sound of their touch. Clegane kept his eyes closed, but easily now. Tormund encouraged him to bring his arms down, relaxed and long, by the side of his body, and he didn't mind that either. In fact, he felt almost sleepy, with both of them touching him like that, their body heat so close on either side of him, so much so that he didn't realise they'd reached his shoulders again until it was really too late.

It seemed to him just a continuation, completely seamless. Tormund had been using more of that wonderful heavy stroking on him, Brienne too, and so he hadn't even really noticed that Tormund's thumbs were working away at his shoulder blades until he got the first urge to move away. Then he kind of growled.

“Oh,” he said. “Wait, fuck, no.” And he tried to move his arms, only to realise that his hands were trapped between their knees, clearly on purpose. When had they immobilised him? Clegane gulped. Tormund didn't stop, though Brienne had halted. “Tormund, don't...” he said, but it was too late to struggle. His body didn't seem to be under his command any longer. It was relaxed and apparently wanted to remain so.

Tormund's thumb touched upon the edge of something deep in his shoulder, and he felt his upper body twitch as he grunted. “No!” he said in alarm, because it was close. He could feel it. This was something that didn't want to be found or investigated.

“It's all right, Clegane,” Tormund said, and his hands were suddenly sweeping, large circles, reassuring, moving away from that place now. Clegane relaxed all at once with a loud sigh.

Only suddenly it was back, and this time time the wildling was right on the money. This time he did more than twitch and grunt. This time it happened again, just like that first time, and he had no idea where it came from, but he hated it just as much. Clegane heard himself laugh.

At the same time, his body twisted violently away. But then Tormund was holding him still. No longer touching him there, but restraining him. In the ensuing silence Brienne giggled, but that was cut suddenly short, as if the wildling might have warned her with a look.

“It needs working out, Clegane. Let me do it.” Tormund was all matter of fact and reasonable. Said it like it was an easy thing to ask.

“I can't, you fucking idiot! I don't get to choose. If I got to choose, do you think I'd make a damned fool of myself like this?” Clegane growled in maddened frustration and shook his head a little. He tried to turn his head to look back at the wildling, but with Tormund holding him down to the bed it was impossible.

He could see her though, and that giggle kept running through his head, yet she wasn't doing it now. He was angry, because if he wasn't angry he would hurt. Then at last it occurred to him she seemed concerned. She wasn't laughing at him at all. “Help me,” he said suddenly, without any idea he was going to do it.

“How?” she asked. “What can I do?”

The world waited, holding its breath, and then Clegane made a decision to cooperate. He hoped he wouldn't regret it. “I can't stay put,” he said quietly. “It's not me. I need you to keep me still while he does whatever idiot thing it is he thinks is going to help.” He rolled his eyes. Perhaps when it didn't, Tormund would admit he'd been right all along.

“Put your knee here on my other shoulder, and your hand on the back of my head. You're going to want to pull my arm up, let it fold at the elbow, so as I can't use it.” She did as he asked, and he tested the restriction hesitantly at first, then with all of his strength. “That's it,” he said, because she had it right straight away, and he couldn't escape the hold. His heart was beating more rapidly.

“All right, then,” he said to Tormund, his voice muffled where his head was pushed into the pillows. “Do whatever it is you want to do to me.”

The wildling didn't say anything. First, there was more of that damned heavy petting, and despite himself – despite knowing what was coming – it worked on him. Then again it was there, and he laughed again, an involuntary reaction, his body trying to wrench itself away, only this time it couldn't. Tormund didn't increase the pressure much, only teased at it for an agonising minute or two, until all at once it was gone.

Clegane couldn't believe it. Tormund went back to the bottom of his shoulder blade, working up again, got to that place and there was no resistance at all, no sudden need to escape. Further he went, and hit another one of those bits that made Clegane jerk. He explained what he was doing, called them knots, and worked another two or three of them out of the muscle before they were all gone.

Brienne let him loose, but he didn't move an inch as Tormund went about squeezing the plane of his shoulder in a way that made him moan into the pillows, then followed that with the same kind of delicate manipulation, this time from the other side of his shoulder, all the way up into the back of his neck. This too he remembered from when he and Tormund had done it to her. It felt bloody amazing.

Since it had worked so well that way, Tormund and Brienne changed sides so that she could restrain him again while the wildling did the same magic trick on his other shoulder. By the time it was all done, Clegane thought he might be in heaven. He'd been so afraid of that weird laughter. When it had happened before, it had been beyond humiliating, and it hadn't ended well. Those women had laughed at him, and he'd become furious in turn. Tormund hadn't entertained it at all. He'd done exactly what he said he would, and gone right through to the other side.

Experimentally, he straightened one of his arms out and moved it around a bit, feeling how loose and limber his shoulder felt. It seemed like he might be about fifteen years younger. “Gods, what have you done to me?” he drawled, his voice still coming out slightly lazy. “This is amazing!”

Tormund chuckled. “Wait until you pick up your sword,” he teased, and Clegane immediately sat up, turning around, imagining how Blackfyre would feel in his grip like this. They hadn't trained all day, and at last he was really missing it.

“I want to go out!” he said. Both of them pushed him down onto his back, playful and laughing, but their laughter couldn't hurt him now.

“It's the middle of the night!” Brienne pointed out, still giggling, her eyes full of love. “Even I won't go there with you. Wait until morning.”

Clegane smiled and pulled her close for a lingering, deep kiss. She tasted lovely as always, and her body was soft and warm against his. Oh, yes, this was heaven. But she hadn't made him feel like this. He let her go and turned his attention to Tormund, pulling him close then instead.

This time he kissed Tormund without thinking about it first, and without the bond working on him. It was simple thanks and affection without an ounce of drama involved. As such, the kiss didn't kindle and burn out of control like some of their others. Not that he failed to notice the difference between Tormund and Brienne, it was just... easier to accept somehow.

In fact, if he'd had to put a word to it, Clegane might have called it tender, at least until the affection in him changed to desire, then things began to get a little strange. Perhaps his defences were down or something. Perhaps it was all about how he'd been made to feel, or perhaps it was even about the thoughts he'd been entertaining earlier in the bath, but suddenly he wanted things he'd never even really allowed to cross his mind before.

How would it feel, to be inside him? Would it be at all like it was with her? Would it be soft and warm? Hot? He'd lowered his hands and was squeezing Tormund's buttocks in his palms, eyes closed, still kissing, only Tormund pulled back far enough to laugh softly, the heat of his breath on Clegane's lips.

“Oh, I see,” Tormund murmured. “You want it now. But it won't be tonight, Clegane.”

“Why not?” he demanded, jerking upwards a little, to let the wildling know just how much he wanted it. He was hard, and so was Tormund. He drew in a sharp little breath as their cocks touched each other – so hot! “You want me, wildling. Admit it.”

Again that laugh, more amused this time, and Clegane opened his eyes to glare. “Clegane, have you forgotten what you owe me?” Tormund asked, looking him up and down. “And besides, you know we haven't finished with you yet. You don't get to sneak out of it this way.”

“Clegane is my brother's name, too,” he grumbled. He squeezed harder with his hands. “You call me Sandor if you want me to pay attention, do you hear?”

Tormund smiled then, genuinely, and he did too. Couldn't help it at all. “Sandor,” Tormund said, slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “All right. Turn over again, so we can carry on. And then after, you will give me what I want, won't you?”

Clegane sighed heavily, but did as he was bid as Tormund moved away. There really wasn't any escaping it, and he had to admit it wasn't the bad thing he had been expecting. Perhaps the other would be a surprise too. He remembered Tormund's casual remark that he wouldn't keep Brienne away from being involved, especially with the kissing, and it made a kind of strange tingle of forbidden excitement loiter around in his stomach as they went back to the massage.

This time they began with his feet, and he let his thoughts drift pleasantly as they did it, hardly noticing how relaxed he was becoming as they worked. He'd never felt like this, so well attended, so... cherished, almost. It was like everything he'd ever learnt about the world was turned upside down when he was with them. As if between them they made their own rules. A secret smile played on his lips at that thought, but then they reached his thighs, and he was put off his musings by another attack of that ridiculous laughter. Thankfully, Tormund seemed to know how to get past that too, and before long they were at his back again.

It wasn't like any punishment he'd ever heard of, and he relaxed utterly, until he was almost purring into the pillows.

He was aware that they finished off with some kind of silliness around his arms. It didn't matter. “Sandor,” said Brienne, as she encouraged him up onto his hands and knees, and he did what she wanted without a second thought. “Has he forgotten?” she asked Tormund then, uncertain, and the words broke through the strange and pleasant haze that had settled over his brain.

“Wait!” he said suddenly. “Will it be now?” He twisted his head, and he could feel their hands on him, sliding over his buttocks. Tormund nodded.

“Yes, Sandor. It will be now,” he said. Clegane gulped. Thought about it. Then definitely didn't think about it at all. On purpose. He stared at the bed head as if it might tell him how to survive. Behind him, Tormund heaved a great breath.

“You okay, or you need tying up or something?”

Clegane looked down at his wrists, and then instantly imagined how it would be if he was tied to the bed head while they... while they... “Fuck off,” he growled. “You're not getting that from me, too, wildling!” He ground his teeth together. “I'll manage.”

There was a hushed whisper of conspiracy behind him and then: “We start with kissing, Sandor,” Tormund said. Clegane didn't know how to respond to that.

“I get to go first,” Brienne put in, and he shivered at the intent in her voice. All at once, he was very glad for Tormund's attention earlier on, just as the wildling had said he would be.

There was no enemy he'd ever faced that made him feel the trepidation he felt then, when between them he felt himself spread open, exposed to their sight and touch. He couldn't help recalling how it had been right at the beginning, when they'd kind of done it to her. She'd been nervous but she'd let them explore her. He had to be the same now, show the same courage. He bit his lip, his eyes tightly closed as he kept himself still, trying not to quiver. Then he felt her lips, not there, but on his left buttock, pressing in a flurry of little kisses, getting closer and closer to the centre of him.

“Brienne...” he said, helpless, pleading, who knew what for. Then he felt the warmth of her breath, in that place, and he drew in a deep sudden breath. The warmth came closer, turned to heat, and the breath he held was exhaled in a quiet moan of awareness. The first touch of her tongue was indescribable. He'd never even imagined this. Of course it was a service offered in some of those brothels he'd occasionally visited, but he'd never indulged in it. Fancy nonsense.

At once, Clegane understood how sensitive that part of his body was, how receptive to pleasure, and he whispered her name. Humiliation and delight were at war within him, and he could feel his face burning, and yet, he didn't want her to stop. She was exploring him with the very tip of her tongue, around and around, pressing lightly against the centre every so often, and always the heat of her breath. It felt amazing. And then her tongue softened, became malleable and large – wet – and he groaned.

“And now it's my turn,” Tormund said with relish as she backed off, as if this had been a mere trial run. Just a sampling.

Once again there was that instant of nervous fear as he awaited it, their hands still on him, holding him open like that. He could feel the air, cool against his newly wetted skin, and this time he did shiver, there was no denying it.

At the first touch of Tormund's tongue, he jumped slightly, because the wildling did not play at all first as she had, but went straight for it. He deliberately relaxed, drawing in a deep steadying breath, believing he knew now what came next – but he was wrong.

Tormund's tongue was hot and soft, large and wet straight away as the wildling pressed his face close. Clegane opened his eyes wide, but saw only the head of the bed. He could feel the shape of Tormund's face, his cheekbones and jaw, even the nub of his nose, and the tickling touch of his beard against the sensitive skin below. And then that tongue became harder, pressing for entry, going in a little way, only to withdraw in a teasing little flicker that made Clegane's eyelids flutter in response as he tried not to moan. But it felt so good!

Tormund only withdrew enough so that he could lick upwards from the back of Clegane's balls, and back to the prize again, and this time Clegane did moan, his eyes rolling upwards. He couldn't help it, and he dropped his head in defeat as he felt that same eager closeness again, the shape of the wildling's face, and this time as his tongue pressed, it seemed as if he'd sealed his lips there somehow, and was sucking, his jaw moving so that Clegane felt his body opening up to that gentle coaxing.

“Tormund!” Clegane gasped. “Oh, fuck...”

His tongue was deeper now, and it was suddenly formed as if into a spiral that felt amazing. It was a technique he'd used on Brienne before now himself, but to feel it – this way, from this perspective – it put him beyond thought.

It might have lasted a minute or two, but it was ecstasy, and by the time Tormund drew back, Clegane was shaking. He could feel his own cock, long and heavy between his legs.

“Ha!” Tormund exclaimed, and he sounded more than a touch evil. “Want to have a go at that, beauty?” he asked. Clegane shook his head, but it was too late, and besides, neither of them were paying attention to him. Or at least, not to his head.

“Yes,” Brienne said, then she said something that made Clegane gulp. “His body is opening up,” she pointed out, as full of earnest wonder as she had ever been with them. “Is that how I...?” She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't have to.

“It is, beauty. And it makes me want to kiss you, and fuck you. Just like you want to kiss him now.”

Brienne sighed, and it was a happy sound, as if something had clicked into place for her. Clegane had no time to think on it though because a moment later she was trying to replicate what Tormund had just done to him.

He cried out. She managed a fair enough representation of it, that was true. Tormund she wasn't. She didn't have his experience, but it was her, and he could tell the difference. The shape of her face was slender and feminine in comparison. Her skin was smooth and soft. Her tongue was different too, less insistent but just as sensational.

Clegane was lost.

Back and forth they went for a while, until he'd lost count, until he'd forgotten everything else except for them, and how hard he was. His body was hot and desperate. Then, something changed. He wriggled on his hands and knees when he felt a dribble of oil poured onto him from above. It oozed down between his spread buttocks, over his anus, and carried on over the back of his balls, catching in the hair that grew there. At once, Tormund's finger was there, massaging gently, around and around, not quite entering him, and he remembered.

“Now it's time, Sandor,” Tormund said. “Are you ready?”

He thought about it, and realised that he was. Somehow, between them they'd done something impossible to him. He was ready. When Tormund did this, it wouldn't be the violation he'd been expecting since he'd heard of it. He wanted it now. Like it was somehow what he expected, rather than what Tormund expected. How had the wildling made him feel like this?

“Yes. I'm ready,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, still stunned by the revelation.

“All right. My finger will feel harder than a tongue to begin with,” Tormund warned him. “But you can take it.”

Why was he saying that? He'd done it once already, in the bath. So didn't that mean he already knew how it...

Ahhhh!

There it was, and it was hard, and kind of burning, but not as painful as it had been before. Then he had hated it. This time, it was as though his body wanted to make way for it, but didn't know how. Clegane hissed.

“Help me,” he pleaded, assuming Tormund would understand what he needed, and he did.

“All right. Relax for it. Let me in. Become used to it.”

Then Clegane comprehended that the movement of Tormund's finger inside him was the same gentle in and out. Very shallow, very slow. He relaxed deliberately and let it be in him, the oil made it easier, and then at a certain point, he no longer needed to relax. He grinned, and laughed a little. “Yes...” he said.

“Hmm,” Tormund said, in pleasure. “A little deeper now, and then perhaps I'll change your world for you, Sandor Clegane. We will find out who you are.”

Deeper, and there was no pain. Most of that pain was at the beginning of his body. Deeper inside, it was a strange sensation, as if the wilding was somehow connected to his entire self by touch alone. It made him want to voice it, and he let out a low groan. Tormund rumbled a response that seemed to speak to him on some primal level.

“Yes. Nearly there,” Tormund said, reassuring.

One moment, it felt like Tormund had his entire being in the palm of his hand, then the next, it was entirely different. That finger brushed against something inside him, and Clegane's cock, which had begun to soften, gave a sudden eager jerk. “Ah! Fuck!” he said, startled into awareness. Tormund chuckled.

“Yes,” he said, encouraging. “Now you see it, don't you? Now you feel it.”

That finger brushed against that spot again and again, and Clegane felt the most incredible sensation of slowly spreading heat as his body begin to move. He couldn't help it at all. All of his blood was back in his cock, and he was hard as ever. In some part of his lust-filled mind, he realised how it might look, like he was fucking himself on Tormund's finger, but that wasn't it. Not at all.

“Oh, seven hells! You could have said something, you fucking cunt!” He broke off from his swearing to growl in pleasure. “More, wildling,” he demanded, without an ounce of shame now. “Faster.”

“Would you have believed me?” Tormund queried. Clegane managed to laugh.

“I'd have called you a desperate liar,” he said, all but panting.

Clegane turned his head, and caught sight of Brienne, staring at him. She seemed curious. “What does it feel like?” she asked, straight away. Clegane grinned at her.

“It's like he's wanking me off, but from the inside,” he told her, and then grunted in pleasure. “That's exactly what this is.”

Brienne seemed to realise a number of things at the same time, and she glanced back to Tormund, where he couldn't see. “So,” she said. “That's why you begged me not to touch you when I did it,” she said.

“Woman. It was like you were doing me twice,” Tormund confirmed. “All at once. Inside and out.”

She looked back at him, and something seemed to occur to her. “We could do you together,” she said wickedly, her mouth turned up at the corners. “Both of us. How long do you think you could hold on?”

Clegane grunted, still moving as Tormund continued to touch him, just there. “Try it and see, woman,” he grumbled. “I'm not laying any bets!”

Tormund laughed. “Okay. Let me get you better, Sandor,” he said, and with that he withdrew his finger, much to Clegane's dismay. When it returned, there were two fingers seeking entry into him, slicked with oil, and it was easy this time since he knew where they were headed. His body seemed as eager to allow it as he was.

“Now, kneel upwards a little,” Tormund instructed, moving to the side so that as Clegane knelt up, the backs of his thighs were on Tormund's folded knees, with the wildling's fingers still buried deep in him.

Now at last they could look at each other, they were closer to each other, and Clegane turned his head as he laid his hands on Tormund's face, dragging the wildling's lips to his for a rough and passionate kiss. It didn't last very long.

In front of him, his cock was standing up straight, and as he broke away from Tormund, Brienne was already coming forward to wrap her hand around it. Clegane gasped. Tormund found that spot inside him again, and between them they made him move. Whichever way he moved, one of them was giving him pleasure. It was quite simply the pinnacle of anything he'd ever felt, even when he'd shared her with Tormund. He felt so hot, as if the moment of release was upon him but was being stretched out moment by moment. Everything was vivid and sharply poignant; Brienne had never looked so beautiful. Leaning forward, he kissed her too, and she gave way sweetly at first, only to then kiss him back so aggressively that he broke it off, leaning his head against Tormund's shoulder as his body began to shudder with approaching orgasm.

He tried to hold it off, squeezing his eyes closed and straightening up, shaking his head, but even as slowly as this it was impossible. Brienne's hand... Tormund's fingers... they felt so good! “Seven hells!” he muttered, throwing his head back, and still everything in him seemed to wind itself up into the smallest point, despite his efforts. His right hand was on one of Brienne's breasts, her flesh perfectly warm and soft against his palm. His left hand was gripping tight to Tormund's shoulder.

As he opened his eyes, he saw Tormund and Brienne in front of him, kissing. Tormund's free hand was on the side of her face, thumb on her chin to keep her mouth open slightly, enough for him to get his tongue in there. That was enough!

They broke apart as he finally came, both of them holding him then, slowing him down via their touch, drawing it out so that he felt lost in their combined embrace. He didn't know whose name to speak.

When at last it was all done, he lay back down on the bed, utterly finished, and they kept him between them for a short time, touching and loving him. It was wonderful. Finally, Clegane began to understand the possibilities. It didn't have to be fingers. This was merely the beginning. “I think I know why you want to be in the middle, wildling,” he said to Tormund, amused. “And I'll admit. I'm curious enough about how it might feel to fuck you to let you go first.”

“Good to know,” Tormund said. “But you still have a condition to satisfy before we are done here. You've given me what I want. You still owe our beauty her wish.”

Clegane smiled. As if this night couldn't get any better. “So I do.” He turned his head to stare hungrily at Brienne. “You'd better get on with it then, wildling,” he said, “and make her come. I want to taste you both.”

To be continued...

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it – thank you for reading. Comments are cookies!
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