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His balls are heavy in his jeans. Full and aching.
The seam of his zipper presses against his delicate skin and squishes his cock flat against his leg. He can’t—he can’t— take this much longer. Every step, every movement is a sweet slice of torture.
He can’t think. All day, his thoughts scatter. Sign the contract—Brienne’s freckled hand smacks the meat of his inner thigh. Stand to greet some imbecilic Martell attorney—wincing, finding some slot between Brienne’s limbs to slip his cock, the crook of her elbow will do, fuck, it’s nice to meet you, too, Doran.
She’s at home. His home. They planned it that way. A long day for Jaime and a short one for her. Brienne should be in his apartment with all the lights on, driving up his energy bill, ready to be fucked in front of his windows. Gods, he hopes she’ll have already stripped herself bare by the time he gets there. The day croaks by, and he forces himself to walk carefully to his car when the office closes. He should have worn looser pants. His cock throbs. He swears it’s hot to the touch.
Jaime feels almost ill with desire. Frantic. Every object could give him relief. He slides into the driver’s seat of the car and gauges the distance between his hips and the base of his steering wheel. He could tilt his hips up, he thinks, and grind against it until he comes. Brienne likes him sticky; maybe she wouldn’t mind…
No. No. He promised her. She promised him. They’ve planned it all out. She’s getting an IUD inserted tomorrow anyways, and it’ll be their emergency contraception, their excuse to do what they’ve always wanted to do. They’re always so careful….Not tonight.
She’s teased him all week, and he’s ready to empty inside her. He’s saved so much for her. He can do it. He can wait. The lower half of his seat belt brushes against his bulging cock and he chokes. His leather dashboard squeaks beneath his left-handed grip.
A deep breath and he’s on the road. The radio spits mediocre music, but it grounds him. He’s lost his head, somewhere between this morning’s shower and the final stretch of highway between him and his—.
His ex, in a way. They’d gone to university together. Best friends who loved each other, each with uniquely demanding fathers and polarized post-grad responsibilities. She’d told him goodbye. She’d never visited. He gave up.
Two weeks ago, he’d gotten a text. Hi, I hope this is still your number, Jaime. It’s Brienne. I moved to KL for work recently. Can you believe it? I said I never would. Anyways, if you’re around, maybe we could meet up? Go for a Cloaks game or something. Let me know.
In university, they’d been carefully distant. No touches by unspoken agreement, because if they had…
They’d have done what they’ve done for the past week and a half. Fuck. All the time. They’re careful about it, because they’re still a bit young and stupid. Jaime’s pushing thirty-one, and Brienne’s a few years younger, but it’s like they can’t help themselves. Her eyes are ice-blue, but they set him on fire. He’s worn a condom every time. But a week ago, Brienne had opened her damned mouth and begged him to come inside her. He hadn’t. He hadn’t known if she’d meant it.
“When I…Brienne, you asked me to—“
“—Forget it,” she’d said. Flippant and nervous, eyes flitting about his bedroom.
“I want to.”
A swallow. “It’s not wise.”
“We could do it. You could…there’s the morning after pill.”
Her face had twisted. “They make you feel funny…”
His hand on her cheek. “Do you want it?”
She’d groaned, flustered. “Yes.”
“Is that it? If we do it and stay careful, we should make the most of the night.”
She’d watched him carefully, and they’d rolled out their plan.
First, she’d make an appointment with her doctor to insert an IUD, because it was wise if they were going to continue their trysts, and they'd do it the night before.
Second, he’d stave off coming for a few days.
Third, they’d fuck.
Fourth, and most torturously, she’d plead with him.
Fifth, and this is for Jaime, she’d beg him to get her pregnant.
Gods, he nearly crashes as he parks his car.
The elevator snails up to his floor. His key slides neatly into the lock. The front door opens, and light spills into the hall.
Jaime takes a few steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Immediately, with a relieved groan, he shucks his belt, unbuttons his pants, lets out the zipper, and shoves away his briefs. His cock spills out from its confines, balls tight. Tip red.
“I’m home,” he nearly snarls. He feels feral. He hopes she’s as desperate as he is, otherwise he’ll have to reel himself in and pretend he’s not rabidly desperate.
“On the couch,” Brienne calls to him. He takes a deep breath. Walk. Casual. Cool.
She’s lounging on his sofa. In black lingerie. One long leg is hitched up on his coffee table, muscles rolling and tensing under all the light. Her eyes fall to his waist and take him in.
“Hi,” he says dumbly.
“Hey. Come here.” She’s shy, but not that shy. And he’s been hard for her for a week, which he imagines is reassuring.
He stops a few steps from her, just out of arm’s reach, but she just reaches her leg out instead. Her foot presses into his thigh. Jaime sways. There’s no blood in his brain. He grabs her ankle and grips it tight, shoving her leg back and stepping between her knees.
He peels the lingerie from her body quickly.
“It’s pretty,” he murmurs, mouth already suckling her nipple. “So pretty. Wear it again for me? When I’m not about to overflow?”
She laughs and rocks slippery against his hipbone. They’re wound around each other. “Sure,” she says breathlessly. “Anytime.”
Despite their desperation, they always lose themselves in this bit, where they still feel true to form. He’s mindless with desire, but Jaime knows who he is. Who they are. He’s an ass who should’ve tried harder, and she’s an awkward giant who’d been too shy to take him. Years have passed. She begs him to fuck her.
“You don’t want—“ he pants against her throat “—my fingers first?” He licks her neck. Sloppy. Gross, in other circumstances. “My tongue?”
“Not right now. You?” Her hand snakes down to grip his cock, and he moans.
“No, no,” he whines into her shoulder. “I don’t have much self-control to begin with, Brienne. Let’s not push it.”
She nods and stands. Gets on her knees on his expensive rug, just like they’d planned. Bends over. Spreads her ass for him. Her cunt is pink and weeping.
“I thought about this all fucking day,” he groans, and he kneels one knee behind her, leverages the other, and thrusts himself inside of her.
She’s hot. Wet. Perfect. Sucking at him. Her body is begging for him and she’s not even said a word. He moves. Slowly, at first, but the fleshy drag of her walls against him dissolves his patience. Faster, then. Her breath hitches.
“Jaime,” she whispers.
Faster. His balls rock with his hips and slap her cunt. The noise electrifies his spine. Not yet, he wars with himself. They’d just fucking started. He stops moving suddenly, and Brienne whines.
“Sorry, sorry. I can’t—let me just. I need to breathe.”
She braces herself on her forearms and looks back at him. She moves slowly. “Take your time,” she says. Her wetness squelches obscenely, at odds with her sweet tone. Jaime gulps.
“Ready?” He asks. She’ll know exactly what he means.
“Fuck me, Jaime.”
He does. He pounds into her. Sweat dripping. It’s animal, the sounds they make. He brings his hand to her clit and presses the way she likes. Soft swirls on the nub, palm braced firm against the bone. His rhythm slips a bit, because he’s doing so much at once, but she thinks it’s because he’s close, and when she starts talking, he actually is.
“Please, Jaime. Come in me. Fuck me. I want it, I want it, I need it. Come in me, and keep fucking me. Push it deep inside me. Fuck a baby into me, Jaime, please. Please.”
What the fuck else is he supposed to do? He comes. Hard. Long. Maybe it’s his imagination, but he does feel like he gives her more come then than he’s ever dumped anywhere. He tries to do like she asked. He tries to be good, and fuck her more, fuck it deep. He spasms a bit, and he knows some spills out of her and onto his rug. He rocks into her a few more times before slipping out. He leans back. Uses his hand to open her wide to his stare. Her thighs are smeared and shiny. She’s a mess. As he watches, her cunt pulses and a trickle drips down into her pubic hair.
If only university Jaime could see him now. Wrecked and staring at a come-spattered Brienne Tarth who he’d just filled to the brim. He’d have been in better spirits for all of his twenties if he’d known this moment awaited him.
“Brienne,” he grunts.
She nuzzles her head in his rug. “Hm?”
“Can we date? Or…be together? Exclusive. Us two. For a long time. Like…with no plans to stop? Just this. Forever. Please.”
What the fuck was that, Jaime?
“And an IUD,” he hastily adds. “Because we’re…you know, because we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing.”
Brienne laughs. How did he last so many years without her? Really. He doesn’t know. He has no clue.
“Yes, Jaime. Let’s do it.”