Belatedly she feels a twinge of guilt for the fact this is her first. Brienne’s first experience with this. But Brielle finds that she is selfish. She doesn’t care that she’s taking this from Jaime. Brienne is hers.
Her knee slides between Brienne’s pale thighs, dragging them apart to expose the soft damp folds of her center. She presses.
“You’re beautiful. No matter what anyone says, you are so very beautiful.”
Brielle takes Brienne’s mouth then, slowly teasing it open to lick into her hot mouth, letting no protest pass. She tastes sweet and like summer. She would have disagreed before, when Brielle was Brienne, but she knows now that even in the cold of Winter she was a summer girl still, full of goodness and light. She drinks it down.
Boldly she brushes her hand between Brienne’s thighs and uses her fingers to part Brienne open to find her hot and slick. Fuck. It’s intoxicating to be on this end too. “Does this feel good? Every touch should you know.”
“You’re so wet and inviting, I’m almost sorry I don’t have a cock to fuck you properly with.” She kisses her again and hopes that wasn’t a step too far. Does this Brienne like to be talked to so scandalously? She had liked it when Jaime did it, but so much was different then too.
She slides her fingers in, two, unafraid that it will hurt her any. She’s untouched, but not delicate. Her martial life has taken that particular pain long ago. She crooks them to find that place she knows now exists. “That’s it, let me make you feel good Brienne.” Her name tastes strange but her mouth tastes so strangely right.
Her hard nipples line up with Brienne’s and she rocks back and forth with the thrust of her fingers. It makes her so wet, firm little buds against her own. “You deserve the world sweet girl.”
She is straddling Brienne’s thigh and she cannot help but press her own cunt down onto her. Fuck. Her hips roll. And then pulls away and she slides lower and hooks Brienne’s legs around her shoulders. She slowly kisses her way down, to attack her cunt too with the same mouth, giving her time to protest.
It’s a first for her. She has no idea where the confidence comes from, but she wants everything for Brienne. She deserves to be loved well and often. But if the is the only time she might have, she’s going to show her everything that she can.
Every sensation is new. Bold. As if the world -- particularly here in the north -- has been a wash of greys and dull blues and blacks. There hasn’t been a single sensation like what she’s experiencing now. Even the joys of life after battle, of winning hand-to-hand haven’t given her this level of blinding, colorful sensations. Is this what Brielle had meant when she’d said she’d come back to save Brienne? Was it this?
Brienne felt like, for a moment, it very well might be.
The touches to her body leave her speechless. Her mind is blank. And she thinks, for a moment, that this must be what all the fuss is about. To touch out of desire. Brienne arches her body up to meet her double’s and she feels lighter under the praise. Then her world changes. The blatant, crass words -- which she’s heard on some level before, certainly, though never directed at her -- combined with the fingers on her, then in her, forces a sharp gasp between her lips.
“Oh, fuck.” It’s all she can really think to say. But could she really be blamed for that? Did anybody really manage to keep their wits about them when being touched in such a manner?
Before long, Brienne is no longer wondering what other people might think while fucking. What’s on her mind are the fingers that were inside her. And before she can send the message from her brain to her hands to do something similar, Brielle has pressed her hips down and Brienne can feel the slickness of her double’s cunt. “Fuck,” she says again.
Too soon, however, those incredible sensations are gone. Brienne is about to protest when words are robbed from her once more. Her back arches and she buries her fingers in Brielle’s hair. Her hips rock and her vision blurs. “Fuck. Don’t stop.”
Typically quite composed, Brienne comes undone as every nerve in her body lights on fire. She convulses, her hands tighten in the soft blonde hair within their grasp, and a low moan rolls from her chest.
Once she’s settled, Brienne stares at the firelight as it dances across the ceiling. “I...” But what words are there to say. “Brienne,” she says. It feels strange to say, but her other self deserves to hear her own name. Brienne takes Brielle by the hand and kisses her knuckles “If you teach me, I can... I would hopefully give you everything you just gave to me and more.”
