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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six

“He's so hot!” She drew her oiled fingers back almost straight away, in shock, then replaced them. Clegane was patient with her, because he could afford to be. Tormund, however...

“Woman,” moaned the wildling. She cast a glance up the bed, then ignored him, instead paying attention to her new teacher. That was good.

“So soft on the surface, but hard underneath. It feels very strange. But nice,” Brienne commented, and sighed.

“You'll want to hold him similar to how you grip your sword hilt. Relaxed but firm. More pressure on the lower fingers, looser up top, so that when you move your hand...” He waited for her to catch up with his instructions, copying what she'd seen him do before. He was seeing her curl her fingers around someone else, and it didn't faze him at all. Thanks to the little gift he and Tormund had just received, he supposed. She moved her hand up, and he helped her, showing her how her thumb and forefinger should slide over the head along with the foreskin.

Tormund growled in pleasure.

“Does that mean I got it right?” she asked, and Clegane nodded, smirking.

“Aye. See if you can make him do that again,” he said. She did, and he grinned.

“Feels good to have a big woman's hand wrapped around it, right?” he asked the wildling.

“Fuck you know,” he said, then shuddered. “Woman. Don't keep starting and stopping, and starting, and stopping. You will kill me.”

Clegane was actually beginning to feel a little sympathy now. His own erection had died down some time ago, but the big wildling had stayed hard while he'd been showing Brienne what to do, and now while she was experimenting on him. He was almost delirious with want to come.

Brienne frowned. It was a look on her he was beginning to grow used to. “What does he want?” she asked, and Clegane relented.

“The reason I told you to keep the grip relaxed is because you need it to be active, to move your hand fast. Let the wrist take the movement, rather than the hand, then you'll manage it well enough. Up and down. And try and add a bit of a squeeze and a twist to the upward movement. Just a gentle one.”

“How fast?” she wanted to know, beginning a slow up and down that would only be making things worse for poor Tormund.

“Let me show you,” Clegane said, and took over for a moment, his hand moving quickly over the wildling's cock. A throaty growl floated down from the head of the bed when he stopped and Brienne took over again.

“Woman...” This time there was a definite warning demand in it, and she pursed her lips before she began.

“My name is Brienne,” she said, displeased, looking up the bed. She raised an eyebrow. “What is my name?”

“Fuck. Brienne, woman. Please, don't tease me any more.”

Hearing Tormund say please was about a dire as it probably got for a wildling. Say what you want about them – they were proud folk, not given to begging for anything. He hoped Brienne understood that too, looked at her and saw that she did. Something in her eyes softened all at once as she stared up the bed at Tormund, and he didn't realise at first what she was doing. He was so focused on her face. But she was moving her hand, and his eye was drawn to the blur of it – so quick! But she was a swordswoman, and good with her hands. This was really nothing to her, and she'd only needed a rudimentary understanding to get with it. Clegane smiled and sat back, his work as teacher done as Tormund moaned and writhed under that hand.

He came crying out her name. Clegane supposed, given the silly grin on Tormund's face afterwards, the wait had been well worth it. He jumped when Brienne patted the bed hard.

“Now you,” she said, daring him to refuse her. As if he could, as if he wanted to, as if he would fucking dare.

Tormund scrambled out of the way so that Clegane could take his place, but this wasn't the same. He was soft and yet... a few investigative touches and he could feel himself surging into her hand nevertheless, just as obedient as if she had commanded it.

The wildling smirked. “Good –”

“If you call me dog,” he broke in, “even the Lord of fucking Light won't be able to make us friends again,” he growled. Tormund frowned, then sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in close.

“Good cock, for a southerner,” he said, then stole a kiss. Clegane laughed in relief. It was a laugh that ended on a groan as Brienne worked on him. All the desire of earlier returned to him, and he was so right about her hands. She felt fantastic. To have a woman's hand large enough to envelop him, large enough to pleasure him properly. It was beyond anything he'd ever hoped for.

“Tormund,” he managed.

“I know, my friend,” he responded. “I know.”

He couldn't be sure how long it took her to get him off. Maybe not long at all, but he came with a wild, elated cry, right into that amazing hand. And there they were, both of them spent. She had a surprise coming her way now, and a long evening into night. He and Tormund shared a knowing, conspiratorial look between them, then as one they looked at her. She immediately became suspicious.

“What? Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Delicacy was called for again. Unfortunately he had none. “Brienne. Do you know the difference between men and women?”

“Are you making fun of me again?” she demanded. “Because I think I made it quite clear what would happen if you did that.” She was frowning again, arms folded. “Didn't I just make you feel good? Both of you?” she asked, as if hurt.

Clegane shook his head. “Not that difference. Another one. You see, it's your turn now.” He smiled, and once more felt like a wolf. He sneaked a sideways glance at Tormund. The wildling looked like a wolf, what with all that hair.

Slowly, Brienne nodded. “But, you won't do anything I don't like, will you?” she said, standing up and unconsciously starting to back away. She didn't go far. She didn't really want to.

“We made promises. We will keep to them. We won't do anything you don't like.” He held out his hands to reassure her. “Do you remember what it felt like, out on the hill, when Tormund did what he did to you?”

She nodded, and breathed shakily. “Well, Tormund and I, we need recovery time before it can be our turn again. But you don't.”

“What do you mean, I don't?” Her frown deepened.

“I mean, your body works differently to ours. When we find out what you like, we can do it to you again, and again, and again.” He watched the way her eyes darkened as he spoke. “And again.” She swallowed. “For hours, until you fall asleep, exhausted in our arms, completely happy and satisfied.”

He stood up and moved towards her. To her credit, she stood her ground. As he reached her, she moistened her lips. “How many times can you do it?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

Clegane grinned. “Women have no limits.” He held out his hand to her, and she thought for a moment before allowing him to lead her back to the bed. Tormund got out of the way. She was wearing a simple buttoned shirt and a pair of breeches. Not dissimilar to what both he and the wildling had been dressed in. Clegane popped open one of the buttons, then looked into her eyes. She didn't protest, but she hiccuped. Startled, she covered her mouth with one hand.

“Pardon me,” she said automatically, gulping in air, then hiccuping again.

“Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you.”

“We could never hurt you,” said Tormund from behind him. “Brienne.”

Clegane popped another button on the shirt. Five more to go.

“I know,” she said, confident. “I wouldn't let you anyway. I just...” Suddenly she was holding his face in her hands, staring at him earnestly. “Help me. Kiss me again. Like you did at first. Before.”

“You mean like this?” he queried, and kissed her on the lips. Then he smiled. “Or like this?” Then he took her in his arms and repeated that first encounter, when he'd kissed her neck and she'd seemed to melt for him. This time too, she sighed and tilted her head.

“Yes,” she said, her voice soft, “just there.” While he did what she wanted, he moved his hands back to work on the rest of the buttons, and when they were all undone, Tormund stepped up behind her to take the shirt away, sliding it down her shoulders and off her arms.

Suddenly she gasped and her hands gripped his biceps hard. He couldn't see Tormund any longer, and could only assume the wildling was currently crouched over, making the most of Brienne's naked back. Never touched. Never anything. She held onto him as if for dear life. “Sandor,” she managed, her eyes wide. He smiled at her, trying desperately to resist the temptation to look at her naked breasts.

“What's he doing to you?”

“He's kissing...” She drew a sharp breath in. “Kissing the bottom of my back.” She moaned, then sighed, and leaned into him, her weight resting easy against him. He could take it. Maybe he hadn't managed to see them, but he could feel her breasts pressed against his chest now.

“How does it feel?” he asked, and while she was busy with that, he moved his hands down to untie the laces that held her breeches up.

“Oh, it's... I can feel his beard, and his lips. And it's like tickling but it's not funny. It's so much deeper than that. Oh, Gods... I never guessed...”

Having loosened the ties enough, he eased the material down. “Mmm, good description. Wriggle your hips free now,” he said, and she did, allowing him to get the breeches and her underwear down her legs. He straightened up a little. “Tormund,” he said sharply, then nodded back towards the bed when the wildling stood up.

“Lean back onto him now, Brienne,” he instructed, “so that you don't trip over your clothing.”

She seemed confused, but did as he asked, and as soon as her weight was leaning away from him, he scooped up her legs and together he and Tormund carried her the couple of steps to the bed, with him discarding her breeches and underwear on the way. So there she was, completely naked, ready for all manner of new experiences.

Of course, he'd told a little white lie about that recovery time. He and Tormund both wanted her so much he doubted it'd take much to make him hard again, but he fully intended to see how much pleasure she could take. He wanted her to remember this. He wanted her to never regret making this decision, and he couldn't think of a better way to do it. They hadn't spoken, but he was quite sure Tormund was thinking along the similar lines. She didn't understand the art of this, but it was also true that she'd been so unselfish. She'd satisfied them both as soon as she knew how to do it without a thought for herself, really. Perhaps it was her inexperience. She didn't know enough to know what to want from them. She would after tonight. They would make certain of it.

Now that he wasn't busy with other things, he had the chance to look upon her properly, and he did not like what he saw. Brienne was covered in bruises. There were scars here and there, some old, some newer, as you'd expect, but the bruises bothered him. He looked up, straight into Tormund's eyes, and the wildling was giving him a knowing look. What was that about?

“Who did this?” he queried, touching upon a larger bruise on her waist so she would know what he meant. She drew in a breath and blinked at the ceiling.

“You did,” she said quietly.

His heart suddenly lurched, as if he'd been travelling along in a wagon, and a wheel had splintered. He reconsidered the rest of them. He remembered all the fighting they'd done recently. All of it. And how much he'd enjoyed it.

“Are they all me?” he asked himself, out loud, dipping his head to kiss that first one, as if he could make it go away. He could hear her breathing falter at the touch of his lips. “I'm such a vicious bastard,” he whispered against her skin, moving his lips to the next on on her stomach. Her muscles there twitched, and she caught her breath. “I'm sorry, Brienne.” He whispered it like a prayer.

He worked his way up her body, kissing bruises all along the way, until he felt her hand in his hair, twisting, pulling his head back. “I don't seem to remember apologising for your bruises,” she said pointedly, staring at him.

“That's different,” he argued. Brienne raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

Tormund laughed, deep and low. “She's got you there.”

Before he could think of an answer that didn't sound like it would get him killed, her eyes flashed. “Didn't you enjoy it? Don't you like it, when we fight each other?”

Clegane grinned. “Yes. You. You're the best fight I ever had.”

She smiled slightly, as if it were a secret between them. “Me too, as it happens. Bruises happen all the time. I'm not a doll or something. I won't break. Forget about it.” He was laid beside her again now, and her hand had gentled in his hair. “Forget about it so that we can fight again the same tomorrow.”

What was it about her? She could get his blood flowing as easily with her words as with her sword. Clegane couldn't help but kiss her, and this time he let himself go, let himself kiss her how he wanted and relied on her to keep up with him. She did for a minute or two, and then she cried out into the kiss, muffled by him. He stopped, but it wasn't the kiss that had gotten to her.

Tormund had moved down the bed a little, and he was using both his large hands to gently press and knead her left breast. His lips were latched onto her nipple, licking and sucking alternately as Clegane watched. The wildling lifted his lips away a little and flickered his tongue over that nipple so quickly it couldn't be seen. The effect of that on Brienne was incredible.

“Ahh...” she moaned, and her left hand was entwined in the wildling's hair now. “Tormund!”

She'd thrown her head back in pleasure, exposing that wonderful long neck, so he took the opportunity to kiss her there, knowing already that she liked that too. With his hand he covered her right breast, and squeezed it lightly in tandem with Tormund's rhythm, which reduced Brienne to a series of inarticulate moans and cries. She arched her back, and he swept his lips away from her neck, up towards the lobe of her ear, which he nibbled a little, moving his head so that the point of his nose would catch the shell of it. Brienne almost seemed to sob.

Clegane paused. “You like this? What we are doing now?” he whispered into her ear, already knowing the answer. “How does it feel?”

She shivered. “Ohhh... I can't say... I feel all hot...” She arched her body again, her legs becoming restless this time. He caught Tormund's eye, and as if they were a team, they both captured one of her legs with theirs. Brienne didn't seem to mind that at all. “Oh, Gods,” she said, her breath stuttering and uneven.

“Going to try something else now,” he whispered, and now he used his tongue, only... the reaction wasn't what he'd hoped for. The mood which had descended was broken as Brienne startled and giggled, wrenching her head away from him and accidentally dislodging Tormund. Her nipple came free from his mouth with an audible pop. It was swollen and rigid, wet and rosy red.

“That tickled!” she said, still laughing as Tormund shook his head in disapproval. Clegane frowned and shrugged.

“No tongue in the ear,” he noted.

She was staring at Tormund now. The wildling was sweeping the fingers of one hand over the flat of her stomach. Over and over again, just lightly. He held her gaze. Never increased the pressure of that caress, but her eyes darkened as it worked on her. He could see that tell he'd noticed earlier. The twitching of her abdominal muscle on every pass.

It came as something of a shock to Clegane right then to realise that Tormund was just as experienced with women as he made himself out to be. That he knew every secret of her body, knew all the things about it that Brienne herself didn't. Immediately he wondered if he'd see Brienne ask three times, as Tormund had predicted, and if, at that point, he'd need to enforce the promise they'd both made to her. That was going to be one hell of a dilemma. He sighed, and kind of growled at the same time, deep in thought.

They ignored him, still staring at each other, until Brienne looked down at her own chest. His own hand still covered her right breast, but her left was free, that dusk rose nipple still erect and pebbled against the pale skin, almost too obscene to belong to Brienne. Clegane could feel himself stirring just looking at it.

Tormund was smiling at her. “What do you want?” he asked, though it was quite clear. This was about making her say it.

“More,” she said, such longing in her voice Clegane was taken aback. He'd never heard her sound that way. Tormund didn't seem surprised at all.

“That is right, beauty,” he said, and licked his lips in preparation to begin again. But this time it was Tormund himself who had broken the spell.

“Wait,” Brienne said, her voice more normal again. “Stop. Don't...” She shook her head. “Don't call me that.”

“Ah,” Tormund said, displeased, his face darkening like snow clouds. “You say I cannot call you woman, so I stop. Okay. I call you Brienne because you like your name. Now I cannot call you beautiful.” The wildling sighed and drew back completely to sit on the side of the bed.

“Then we have a problem.”

To be continued...
- 5
- 6
- 7
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We're All Going to Die