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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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Author's Note: Thank you to discord_the_lunatic for the review! :) Review responses will be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/61848-pippychicks-review-replies-tv/

Chapter Eight

They didn't spend too long at her neck before moving down to her breasts. Just long enough for each of them to leave their mark. As for her breasts, they took charge of one each, lingering over them, squeezing and sucking as a team, in unison while she almost thrashed between them. She didn't seem to know what to do with her arms, then finally settled on laying a hand on each of their heads as they bent to their pleasurable task: that of undoing her completely.

Her legs became restless again, and so they captured them as before in theirs, one each, parting them slightly so there was an empty space in the centre of the bed, a space that longed to be filled, an echo of the space that existed within her. She moaned, and sobbed, and occasionally hiccuped. He'd never really heard a woman sob in pleasure like that. It wasn't an actual sob, more of a short sound of disbelief, as if she was constantly being startled that anything in this life should feel so good. And it felt amazing to be one of the two to be showing it to her.

When Tormund lowered a hand to her flat stomach, again with that long slow sweeping motion, she almost seemed to swoon, her body alternately stilling and then undulating in waves. She didn't just sigh and sob now, she spoke, but what she said didn't make sense. “Touch me,” she said, as if they weren't. Because she wanted more, and she didn't know exactly what. She didn't know enough to ask.

Then, when at last she let out a long mewl of sheer frustration, Tormund moved that hand lower, but much lower, to her inner thigh, sweeping his fingers up now, but stopping short of the prize. Clegane mirrored him on the opposite side, and she stilled and gasped, her lower body lifting clear of the bed, begging them to continue. She was strong, and he immediately imagined how fucking her might feel if she could move like that beneath him. He couldn't help it at all, and when he looked at Tormund he saw those same thoughts reflected in the wildling's eyes.

Again and again they did it, the tenderest of touches, just teasing, just playing. Tormund eventually let go of her nipple to blow softly on it and she actually cried then. He repeated the same thing on the other side, and she shivered to her core as they moved down the bed, never letting up with the light caress.

Between them, they moved her legs apart, encouraging her. “Wider, beauty,” Tormund said. “Let us see you properly.”

Brienne trembled and sobbed – again – but spread her legs, letting them raise her knees and lay them flat to either side of her body, opening her up fully. Tormund hummed in satisfaction at that, and laid a kiss on the inside of her knee.

Clegane had never gone as slowly as this with anyone, and yet it all seemed worth it somehow. It was like unwrapping a long awaited gift, or peeling a rare piece of sweet exotic fruit. He and Tormund revealed her to their view together, carefully, using a thumb each on her lips, and there it was, perfectly shaped and symmetrical. She was deep red and swollen with arousal, shiny in the lamplight with it. He could feel his tongue peeking out to rest on his bottom lip as he looked upon her. And she thought she wasn't beautiful? He let himself linger over the looking, studying her. He'd thought she'd be larger, but her pussy seemed so tiny, quivering, and he couldn't help but imagine how it might look stretched tight around his dick. Clegane let out his breath in a little rumble of lustful need and fascination, while beside him Tormund did exactly the same.

“What is it?” she asked quietly, full of doubt, and Clegane managed to tear his gaze away to look at her face. She was afraid, he realised suddenly. She'd never seen herself the way they were seeing her.

“It's all right, Brienne. You're breathtaking. Worth more than a mere glance.” She smiled at him hesitantly, uncomfortable with the intimacy, no doubt, but still willing. She amazed him at every turn with her courage.

Tormund moved his head, but Clegane stopped him, remembering his earlier strategy with her. Knowing what to expect would make all the difference. “Warn her first,” he said, and Tormund looked up the bed for a moment, considering.

“I'm going to do the same to you here, as I did to your breast,” he said simply. Brienne frowned, not understanding. Clegane shook his head.

“Touch her first. So she knows exactly where you mean.” Somehow he knew it was important. Never touched, never anything. Never even touched herself like this. He didn't know how it felt exactly, but he suspected it was going to be somewhat dramatic.

Tormund flicked a thumb against her clitoris, and Brienne's reaction was immediate. She drew in such a deep breath her lungs must be nearly bursting, and it suddenly took all of his weight to keep her down. Tormund's too. “Whoa!” he said, gentling her, only for Tormund to start flicking that thumb on her over and over. It was like she was receiving a series of electric shocks, and she cried out loudly, again and again.

“Oh, Brienne. You look good enough to eat,” Clegane said with a wink, and she gasped, understanding immediately.

“No. Oh, no. Please, don't. Not there. I can't take it!”

He looked down at her, and saw that tiny dancing aperture twitch maddeningly along with her words, daring them, goading them on. He sighed. It was much too late for no.

“You can't. Please! Gods! You c-can't!” She was twisting her head from side-to-side, her hands buried in her short hair as Tormund continued to tease her with his thumb. “It's too much!”

Tormund shook his head at her. “It's not too much. Trust me, beauty. I know what's tormenting you. It's because it's not enough.” And with that he went in, without any further messing about. Brienne froze for a moment as his lips covered her clitoris, and then her mouth opened, but nothing came out. After around ten seconds or so there was a shaky half breath out, then the longest, most definitively sexual moan he'd ever heard from a woman in his entire life. And he'd heard some.

Tormund pulled back a little. “Well, even I have to say. That was quick.” He put his head back down, this time lower, and dipped his tongue into that little sleeve of muscle, coming away licking his lips with a smile. He smiled at Clegane. “Want to taste her?”

Did he ever? He'd thought Brienne wasn't even aware of what was happening, but he saw her eyes widen at the offer and she stared at him as he grinned and went to get his own bit of her. She moaned for him this time, and she tasted sweet and clean, but intense, white on his tongue and his lips.

When he'd done they gave her a minute or two to recover, but they didn't change position at all. She relaxed a little, her breathing steadied, and she looked at them, helpless. Tormund smiled. “Ready for more, woman?”

But it was his turn, and the look of alarm she turned on him was what his dreams would be made of for a while. He dropped down and gave it his best shot, taking care not to be rough with her. She wasn't used to this, not at all, and yet he varied his technique more than the wildling had, to give her a bit more of an idea. He didn't just suckle there, he gave her good long licks with his tongue, circled her with it in a tease, flickered over her, the barest touch. The sucking though, that was the one that made her legs shake eventually, and that moan again, the slick wet warmth coming out of her near his chin. He tasted her again, but made sure to leave some for Tormund.

They took it in turns, having her, and they moved onto penetrating her gently with tongues, just a little, and she liked that too. But eventually she was completely exhausted, her body used up and spent. By necessity, he eased himself with his own hand, as did Tormund, then they lay beside her, exchanging deep lingering kisses turn by turn until she began to refuse them. When she was tired Brienne was completely adorable. He'd lost count of how many orgasms she'd had.

“How do you feel?” he asked her, “now?” He was playing with a wisp of her hair as she stared into his eyes. She still looked a little shocked, and he couldn't blame her for that. Tormund was spooned up behind her, his arm draped over her waist, his lips moving over the back of her neck as she smiled slightly.

“I want to sleep through the night,” she said, her voice dreamy. “And then all day.” She gave a short, annoyed sigh. “I can't possibly fight you after this.” She dislodged Tormund and turned onto her back suddenly. “Maybe, between the two of you, you've broken me.”

Clegane snorted. Chance would be a fine thing! “I doubt that.”

Tormund grumbled amiably. “Sleep then, woman.” And he threw his arm over her again. Clegane too, and she didn't protest at all, just yawned tiredly.

“Didn't I have a name?” she wondered out loud, giving Tormund a playful little glare and a nudge.

“So you did,” he said. “You remember what it is yet?”

She giggled, and Tormund continued. “Besides. If he gets to call you woman, I get to call you woman. Fair is fair.”

Brienne sighed in a long-suffering way and closed her eyes. “Fine. Go to sleep then – men!” She said it as if she were addressing her own personal army, and Clegane smirked, but he was tired as well, and it didn't take much for him to doze off, not with Brienne in his arms at last. Or, in one arm at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he awoke, he didn't waken fully, courtesy of the bed he was in and the soft, warm woman in his arms. A bed and a woman usually meant a brothel, which meant he had probably done quite well for himself the day before and was likely to be safe – especially if he'd had enough silver to spend the night. And he had a morning erection. He could either go for a piss, or fuck the whore, then go piss, and he knew which one sounded better.

With a little groan he rolled over onto her, his right hand going down to his cock. She was probably asleep, but it didn't really matter. She'd soon wake up with his cock inside her. Besides, she was a whore. Still, he'd learned from experience that it paid not to make them scream, especially early in the morning. So he went through the same bloody ritual as he did with them all, and rubbed the head of his cock over her clitoris, until he was sure her pussy was awake, even if she wasn't. Then he gathered all of his spit and got it in his hand, so that he could cover the head of his dick with it. Hurt less going in that way.

At last. He slid it down by feel in between her pussy lips, right to the back there. Found it. He sniffed and frowned – the entrance seemed unbearably tight for a whore, but he didn't press it yet. He got hold of one of her legs to drape it over his shoulder. That would help too. In his semi-conscious state, it seemed to him that she had very long and muscular legs. Either he'd lucked out, or he was still partly dreaming.

It didn't matter. He folded his body in some uncomfortable fashion so as to kiss her and keep her somewhat quiet in case she should scream when he penetrated her, and got a face full of tits for his trouble instead. He'd miscalculated the height. A tall one! Surprised, he pulled away, on the verge of thrusting into that wonderful welcoming heat, and remembered just in time.

Brienne. At last he bothered to open his eyes. Shit. She was still fast asleep, but she seemed to be dreaming. Her body moved beneath him, welcoming as all hell, tight as fuck because she was a damned virgin, and he swore, wide-eyed and in about ten different kinds of trouble.

“The fuck you doing?” And a giant hand shoved him away, off of her, before he could do it. He looked at Tormund, and for a moment all he could do was thank the Gods it was Tormund he was in this with, because any ordinary man wouldn't have been able to shift him and live.

“I didn't mean to!” he said, alarmed at himself. “I just... I thought I was somewhere else.”

To his surprise, Tormund only nodded in understanding. “Ah. So did I, about ten minutes ago. You lucky I caught you in time. I had to go for a piss.” He pulled a strange regretful face at Brienne's sleeping form. “Yeah. Only when it was me, I nearly did her up the arse.”

Clegane huffed out a breath. “You'd be all kinds of dead.”

“I know.” His eyes were wide. “All kinds.”

They both thought about it for a minute or two as they watched her sleep. And about whether it was worth it. They sighed.

At last they realised that while they were awake, there was nothing at all to be gained from leaving the bed without her, so they settled back down, one at each side, and played a game of seeing how much they could get away with before they accidentally on purpose woke her up.

They tried kissing her, but she pushed them away in her sleep, and eventually mumbled out loud: “Podrick, keep that damned horse away from my face while I'm sleeping!” which kind of killed the mood a bit. So they satisfied themselves with making a nice Brienne sandwich and playing footsie with her until she blinked awake and drew her feet up.

“Where am I?” she demanded quickly, staring at Tormund, then realised the hand on her waist didn't belong to him. She tried to turn, but they hadn't given her enough room. Then, before she could begin to panic properly, the previous day's events seemed to return to her. “Oh, I remember.” She breathed deeply. “Right.”

“Morning, woman,” said Tormund, and kissed her. She seemed to struggle for a second or two, then relaxed. When he was done, Brienne sighed.

“That was nice. I liked it,” she said, a little suspicious, as if sensing her changed response to him. “What did you do to me?”

Tormund winked and moved far enough back so that he could turn her around. “Morning,” Clegane said, and took his own kiss. How could she taste just as nice first thing? He didn't know, but she did. She wasn't completely turned towards him, just on her back, and he was half on her, one of his legs slid in-between hers as the kiss deepened. He moved, pressing against her deliberately until she moaned for him, and he freed her lips to listen to that sound.

“No, not again,” she said. “I can't.” And yet she didn't fight, didn't stop him, only stared into his eyes until he relented with a little laugh.

She laid back on the pillows and frowned. “How can I ring for tea with you two in my bed?” she wondered out loud.

Clegane huffed. “You can ring for tea?!” he asked, astounded. She glared at him.

“Of course I can. I am a noblewoman, and this is Winterfell. I'm not on the road any more. This is civilisation.” She sighed. “There's no help for it. You'll have to hide somewhere.” She looked around, and then suddenly pointed. “The wardrobe there, that should be tall enough.”

Both of them looked at her blankly. “Well?” she demanded, making a sweeping away motion with her hands. “Go on, then! Shoo!”

Halfway to said wardrobe, Brienne suddenly started giggling, rolling around by herself on the giant bed. He and Tormund looked at her, then at each other. Clegane began to get a very definite feeling he'd just been had.

“Well?” he growled.

“You two,” she managed, between giggles. “Ring for tea? And you two, fell for it, going to stand in the wardrobe...” She waved a hand in front of her face as she laughed some more, then drew a deep breath as if to calm herself. “While you are there, though, you could pass me a robe.”

“Hmm...” Tormund rumbled, and opened the wardrobe door, pulling out a robe. He walked back to the bed, and sat down on it, next to her. He jerked his head at Clegane, to get him to the bed. “I learned something yesterday,” he said seriously. “You want to know what it is?”

She bit her lip as Clegane sat on the other side of her, looking from one to the other of them, distrustful. “Erm... no?”

“I know that you have...” he paused, “...ticklish feet!” And with that he grabbed her ankles. “Hold her down, Clegane!”

She screamed in a fairly undignified manner as they got their little revenge, but when it was done they were all even. And what is more, they were all friends. All lovers.

“I'm going to bathe,” she said, pulling on the robe. “And then I'll see you both at breakfast. Then we'll train, and I'll see if I can still fight, or if you broke something after all.” For a moment, she seemed uncertain. “I don't know.” She drew in a breath and stood up quite straight, drawing herself up to her full height. “I feel quite light this morning. Quick. I might even be better!”

He and Tormund exchanged a look.

Oh, fuck. As if the wardrobe thing hadn't been punishment enough, there looked like being actual bruising involved.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed reading, please do review and feed the muses. :)
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