#moirindeclermont

I know sometimes is hard, but if you're feeling down and want to talk I'm always an option.

You matter!

Thank you for this message, love. It’s not too forward. I really really appreciate this a lot. To know there’s one person out there on my tag list who enjoys my fics so much and smiles to see a new post. That means the world. To hear someone say they love my fics and can see the intimacy and connection that I work so hard to convey... that’s the best compliment I could ever receive. Thank you so much. I’m really honored and grateful that you appreciate and acknowledge the unique style I bring to my writing, and that you can really feel and see those qualities in my fics. I just. Wow. Thank you.

Yeah. I um. I’m having a hard time right now. I’m struggling with a depression episode, and I think just all these small things are triggering me and it’s left me feelings really awful. I honestly might take you up on that offer to talk, because I think I do need someone to talk to.

Thanks @moirindeclermont for the prompt! As the ask says, this is for the 50 Types of Kisses Writing Prompt list.

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

Midnight

Sleep.

That was all that Brienne wanted. To be able to curl up tight in her bed, close her eyes, let her body relax, and be washed away into a peaceful slumber. After all, it was only right, as she had spent all day hauling wood, training men, and outlining strategy in preparation for the siege of Winterfell. Therefore, all she wanted was a few moments of deep, deep sleep...

Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't get there, mainly because she could sense him on the other side of the wall, sleeping soundly, while she remained restless and agitated.

Jaime Lannister, she wondered. How did we get here?

Ever since Brienne had stood up and defended his honour in front of the Dragon Queen, Jaime Lannister had kept his distance. Instead of approaching her, Jaime had thrown himself into working doubly hard than any other man in the castle to help getting Winterfell's defences prepared for a long siege. Given his past, he needed to prove tenfold that he was worthy of the Northerner's trust, and Brienne thought he was doing an admirable job in trying to show them he was here for noble reasons.

It's only right, thought Brienne. He has to do his duty and... he does not owe me anything.

I would stand in front of the Dragon Queen to protect his honour a thousand times.

Even so, she could not help imagining what he must be doing. In a cruel twist, Ser Jaime had been lodged in the next room by Lady Sansa, and Brienne often heard him going about his business; him singing few notes of a tuneless melody, an expletive as he stubbed his toe, and the heavy creak of his bed when he lay down upon it at night.

That last noise was perhaps the most torturous sound of all, as it inevitably led to Brienne's daydreams running wild. The curls of his hair running out across his pillow... his beautiful eyes fluttering closed... his good hand curled protectively around the bad... his night shift riding up as he moved in his sleep... his strong thighs and tapered calves... the hard plains of his stomach... the trail of golden hair that led inevitably down to...

No, she told herself. I will not go there.

Yet still she could not sleep.

As her insomnia plagued her, the moon rose higher in the sky, until Brienne wondered if it would be better to not even try to sleep. Perhaps she could polish Oathkeeper instead? Or darn some holes in her clothes? Or maybe even go over that military strategy book Samwell Tarly had lent her one more time? Anything would surely be better than just laying here, unable to sleep and frustrated by thoughts of...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Brienne sat up sharply. Even though it was the middle of the night, someone had just knocked at her door. There was no urgency to it, so Brienne did not automatically assume that something terrible had just befallen the castle. Instead, it sounded like a patient request.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Tentatively getting to her feet, Brienne pulled her shift down over her knees nervously, faintly worried about who might be on the other side of the door. However, wanting to appear brave, Brienne put steel in her spine as she answered her midnight caller.

"What are you doing here?" she stammered, as Jaime pushed the door wider and barged into her room, wearing nothing but a pair of dark breeches. In spite of her desire to appear impassive, the sight made her blush. Once she had shut the door behind him, Brienne turned to look at him, surprised that he had not offered an explanation as to why he had felt he had to visit her so late at night, so she asked him again.

"What are you doing here?"

Perhaps it was the soft look in his eye, or the way he was drawing nearer with every word, but there was something about Jaime that made Brienne pose her question more gently and with greater care than she had the first time. Given that he did not answer her for a second time, however, she made to question him again, but found she was silenced when he came to a halt in front of her. As her breath caught in her throat, Jaime lifted a hand to her face. Without saying a word, he brushed the back of his fingers against Brienne's cheek, before moving his hand with the utmost care to her chin. Once in position, he swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. His gaze grazed her skin. If Brienne was an inexperienced virgin, she did not remember it at that moment, as quite unconsciously, her tongue darted forward to meet the pad of his thumb. At the sudden reciprocated contact, Jaime's eyes went very wide and then before Brienne quite knew what was happening, she had drawn half of his thumb into her mouth and was sucking it gently, just as she lifted her left hand so she could stroke the inside of his wrist. Circle after circle. 

That all this was happening was almost too much for Brienne, so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to just cherish the sensation of having Jaime here, close and warm, hot and wanting.

Jaime...

Brienne only opened her eyes when he suddenly withdrew his hand, leaving her rational thoughts to come charging back into sharp focus. What had she been thinking? Jaime wasn't hers to have and kiss and...

Oh.

All anxious thoughts vanished from her mind the minute she felt his lips press against hers, however. For a second, Brienne froze. Over the years, men had only been too willing to try and take things from her; in Renly's camp, there had been one night when she had decided not to sleep in her armour and was repaid for that innocence by a drunken man attempting to get into her breeches. It therefore took a few seconds for her to realise that Jaime was not trying to steal anything from her, or debase her, or ridicule her; their kiss was a shared pleasure.

Perhaps sensing her trepidation, Jaime drew back. “Do you want to do this?” he asked, so quietly that she could hardly hear him. In the pale moonlight, he looked so innocent, so concerned, that she thought it was about time that she remembered that she was his commanding officer.

So, just as he had approached her - wordless, silent, and entirely in gesture - Brienne answered with her body. Burying her fingers in his golden locks, Brienne pulled his face towards hers and smashed their lips together once more. In his surprise, Jaime's mouth dropped open, and it allowed Brienne to slip her tongue between his teeth. The sudden intimacy made him moan.

Yes Jaime, she thought firmly. I do want to do this.

I don't remember a time when I didn't want to do this.