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Brienne sits in the corner of the studio, flipping through one of the magazines from the coffee table. She can't believe she let herself be talked into this again. The first time was supposed to be the only time. They’d been playing truth or dare, and she’d stupidly chosen dare. The second time she swore she wouldn't do it again, but she'd let Margaery convince her it would be fun. By the third time, she sort of gave up. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was very little she would deny Sansa, and Sansa never told Margaery no, so Brienne was once again being featured in another magazine as a model, this time for Margaery's newest line of suits. Her final fitting was this morning, and she saw no point in going all the way home and coming back 3 hours later. A lingerie shoot was about to start, so she figured she'd wait.

She flips the page and sighs at the sight of herself. She was dressed in a smoke-grey gown for that one, a beautiful gown that complimented her eyes perfectly. She remembers liking how it felt against her skin. A decent amount of leg was on display. Margaery loves showing off her legs. Brienne remembers feeling pretty, but also not liking how the redheaded photographer leered at her the entire time. 

Ygritte, a different redhead, was today's photographer. Despite her abrasiveness and massive personality, Brienne likes her. 

"What do you mean she's not coming?" Brienne looks up to see Margaery pacing back and forth, phone pressed against her face. "The shoot is for a couple, how could she not show up?" Brienne winces at the tone Marg is using. She feels terrible for whoever's on the other end of the line. 

Sansa reaches for the phone, but Margaery pulls away. "He's here, finishing up in hair and make-up. I cannot have a lingerie shoot without the lingerie.  He  can't sell it, that's why I booked  her !"

Brienne watches as a stunning man enters the studio in a robe, entirely too beautiful to be real. He's half a god, she’s sure of it. She's learned about lots of mythology during her undergrad, and one lesson, in particular, comes to mind. There was a time when it was rumored that this one god would come to earth and mate with human women, consequently creating demigods. The man is definitely that. He looks older than her by a few years. His hair is long, and the make-up team probably put lots of effort into making it appear that he rolled out of bed looking just like that. Brienne wonders if he intentionally let his stubble grow for the shoot. His eyes are sharp, and maybe a bit mischievous as he makes Ygritte laugh. 

She’s seen him in magazines and knows he does lots of work with Essossi creators. She always stops and admires him in every spread. He looks good in everything from suits to sweaters. The athletic wear spread he did had Brienne so hot she needed a shower afterward. She’d been admiring him from afar for months, since the first time she was roped into modeling for Tyrell Creations. Being this close to him is wreaking havoc on her sensibilities. She hopes he leaves before her shoot starts. There’s no way she’ll be able to perform with him there.  

"BRI!" She jumps at the sound of her name as Sansa walks toward her. Brienne cocks her head to the side and closes the long-forgotten magazine.

"You’re my best friend, you know that, right?"

Brienne sighs and sits up straight. She knows that whatever comes out of Sansa's mouth is going to mean chaos for her. She watches Sansa fiddle with her fingers nervously and knows whatever it is, she isn't going to enjoy it. 

"So. Marg's model isn't coming."

"Oh, that sucks. Are you pushing my shoot up? That's ok, I can head over to hair and make-up now." She peeks over at the demigod, still there, still in a robe, chatting with one of the techs.

"Yes...I mean...no. Well, what I mean is yes, you can head to hair and make-up now, but no, we're not moving the shoot up."

"I don't want to sit in full make-up for three hours. You know it makes me itchy. I'll head over there when it's almost time."

Sansa exhales, puffing out her cheeks. "Bri, Marg needs a model for this shoot that's supposed to be happening right now. She wants...she needs a model. A female model."

Brienne shakes her head vigorously. "Absolutely not, Sansa. No way. I am not modeling lingerie. I don't  do  lingerie! That was my one condition, and you promised I would never have to do it." She's aware she sounds like a whiny child, and under normal circumstances, she would be embarrassed, but not today. Not when Sansa wants her to model lingerie with a human libido ignitor. 

"I know, but Brienne, please." Margaery walks up and takes over. 

"Brienne, you are my last hope. I would let Sansa do it, but Ned would literally kill me. I'm sure of it. I've called every model in my contacts, and no one can help me. These photos have to go to print tonight. I'll pay you twice what I would have paid Cersei. Please. Please. I'm sorry. I know you hate fashion, and you hate modeling, and you probably don't really like me, but I am begging you."

Brienne runs her fingers through her hair and puffs out her cheeks. Margaery was begging, and she wasn’t one to ask for much. She and Sansa would be married soon. Brienne felt obligated as Sansa’s best friend to help her fiancee. 

"I don't hate it. Or you. I just...I'm too awkward, and if I have to model next to him, no one will buy your lingerie." Brienne motions to the demigod, now eating a banana and still talking to one of the techs. It was almost infuriating, seeing just how exquisite he looked, even eating a piece of fruit for goddess' sake.

"Jaime? Oh, he's nothing special." Of course, Margaery wouldn't think so. She was stunning herself. Great figure, perfect height. Marg ticked off all the boxes.

Brienne laughs sardonically. "He's beautiful."

"So are you, Bri," Sansa says gently.

"I'm too big," Brienne whispers.  

"I have your measurements, and I know I have some things upstairs that will fit you."

Brienne chances another glance at Jaime. He really is a work of art. He looks like a Braavosi painting or a sculpture from Essos. A warm hand on her check draws her back to the conversation at hand.

"I know that people are assholes. I know that this industry has placed unrealistic expectations on women and on beauty. You are beautiful, and you have the perfect body. I've loved dressing you these past few months. I know this makes you uncomfortable and if you don't want to do this, then that's okay." 

Brienne worries her bottom lip and looks between Sansa and Margaery. She closes her eyes and knows she's going to regret this decision. Knows it means being near-naked with a man fit for godhood, with a man she has been lusting over for months. She also knows that to do this is a big fuck you to every man that said she wasn't desirable and every woman who said she'd never be wanted. If she posed in frilly lingerie with a beautiful man and even just one insecure girl saw it, it might resonate. 

She stands slowly, dropping the magazine on the table. "Don't even think about putting me in anything pink."


Brienne emerges from hair and make-up and sees a rack from the wardrobe department in her dressing room. It's a mix of lace and silk, most of it sheer some of it just swatches of fabric. She groans but allows the team to help her into a chemise without messing up her hair. It's white with lace cutouts. The material is soft, the design is simple. There are no cups or underwire to give the illusion of breasts. The straps are thin and adorned with lace that matches the cut-outs at her hips. The bottom trim is lacey with slits on either side. It's pretty but short. Or maybe she's tall. Either way, it only reaches the tops of her thighs, and the white thong she wears underneath covers very little. Brienne takes a deep breath before tying the robe tightly around her waist. It's only a couple inches longer than the nightgown. She leaves the comfort of the dressing room and walks towards the set.

 Jaime's there, sitting on the edge of the bed. He's not wearing his robe anymore, and if Brienne thought he was beautiful before he's breathtaking now, looking like he definitely belongs in whatever magazine the photos will be featured in. He also looks like a walking wet dream. She has to pose with him. Fuck. 

He looks up at her, and her breath catches. It's like looking into the sun. How is it possible to be this perfect? He stands and takes three steps, planting himself in front of her and extending a hand.

"I’m Jaime."

"Hello….I’m Brienne."

"Damn, you're tall. Glad you're barefoot for this, Legs."

“Legs?” Jaime shrugs, letting his gaze travel downward. She can feel him assessing her. Judging her. She can't tell what he thinks, and it makes her nervous. His silence is unsettling, but the way he’s sizing her up is even more so. It’s not discreet; he doesn’t try to hide it. The fact that he’s so blatant makes something in her lower belly clench. She’s saved by Ygritte.

"Hey you, I saw you in the last issue of Red Keep. You had an innocence that will work well here. Take off the robe, Brienne, no need to be shy."

Brienne tries to will her hands not to shake, but she fails. It's ridiculous! She's wrestled both Clegane brothers, so nothing should scare her after that. 

"Don’t be afraid. I won't bite." Jaime smirks and bites his lip. She flushes and hopes the make-up team has caked enough product on her face, so it isn't obvious. She unties the belt of the robe and pulls it off. An assistant whisks it away. Brienne doesn't cover herself, but she also can’t look at him. He lets out a low whistle, and the sound surprises her. 

"Anything I can’t touch?"

Her head snaps up, eyes widening as she gawks at Jaime. He chuckles and closes the space between them.

"During the shoot, I mean. I'm going to have to touch you. Anything off-limits?” 

Brienne can't think clearly when he's staring at her. He sighs and rolls his eyes. Somehow, even  that  is attractive. She was starting to believe that he couldn’t be anything but appealing.

"Look, I'm sorry you have to be here. Cersei and I had a falling out, so she refused to show up. You and I have to make the best of it. Can you do that?" He offers her his hand.

She nods and takes it as Jaime helps her up onto the set. His hands are big and smooth. He's nearly hairless, or rather what she can see certainly is. He must get waxed. The hair and make-up team waxed her, too. 

“Have you posed with another model before?” 

Brienne nods. “I did a group shoot for the athletic line a couple months back. I’ve never worked with a male model before. This isn’t...I’m not...I’m not a model. I don’t look like a model. I just wear Marg’s clothes, and someone takes my picture.” She looks away, feeling completely out of her element. 

“Hey.” Jaime bends down to catch her eye, and she has no choice but to look at him. “I saw the spread in Red Keep. You were stunning.” 

Margaery and Sansa have been fielding calls for months. Lots of people want Brienne to model for them. She turns everyone down. She only does it here because of Sansa and by extension, Margaery. She doesn’t want to make a career out of it. It pays well, and she’ll leave the university debt-free if she keeps it up, but she’s not model material. 

“Just follow my lead.”

"All right, you two. Let's get started. Just kinda move around. I wanna see what feels natural," Ygritte announces. Brienne is thankful for Ygritte’s call to action. She can’t take much more of Jaime's inquisitive eyes and kind words. She’s already smitten.

Brienne takes a deep breath and tries to shut her brain down. That's usually how she does it, just lets her body take over, but it's different this time. There's another body with her. A lovely body that's inching closer and closer to her. Ygritte starts taking photos, but Brienne feels like a statue.

"Relax," Jaime whispers near her ear after the twelfth or thirteenth photo. She tries. Brienne leans into his touch for the next round of clicks. She shudders and closes her eyes when his hands land on her bare thighs. His fingers grip the muscles of her quads, and she allows her head to roll towards him. Her lips brush his stubble. 

"Yes, Bri!" Sansa says from the sidelines, but Brienne ignores her. She turns to Jaime, leaving the low scoop back of the chemise on display for the camera. She feels him fist the material in his hand at the small of her back. It leaves the lower curve of her ass uncovered. 

"Arch your back a little." His lips brush her ear, stubble scratching against her jaw. The camera keeps clicking. Brienne can sense Ygritte moving around and muttering to herself. She hears the cadence of Margaery and Sansa's voices, but she doesn't focus on their words. She offers up her profile, the light reflecting in her eye.

Jaime's hands are warm as they slip higher, sliding under the hem of the nightgown. He palms the underside of Brienne's bottom, and she bites her lip at the feel of it, the feeling of  him

"Look at me."

She does. Jaime is closer than she thought, and their lips nearly brush. He nestles his face in her neck, lips caressing her pulse point. Brienne lets her head fall back and cups the back of his.

"Jaime, hold her hips."

"Brienne, close your eyes."

"Fuck, that's it. That's the shot," breathes Margaery, but Ygritte is still clicking, moving around them, capturing different angles. Brienne opens her eyes as Jaime pulls away from her neck. He steps around her, placing himself between the camera and her, back and glutes on display. She wraps her arms around him, tentatively.

“Touch me.” Jaime's words brush past Brienne's ear, and she shivers against him. She lets her hands inch upward before spreading her fingers over his shoulder blades. Her eyes look directly into the camera. 

"That's great, Brienne," Ygritte says as she clicks away.

Though the camera can’t see it, Jaime toys with the hem of the chemise. His fingers tease the sensitive skin where Brienne's thigh meets her ass. She tries to focus and is thankful when Ygritte moves, so she’s getting shots of her from behind. Brienne closes her eyes for a moment and exhales shakily. Jaime's effortless, his movements are fluid, and she tries to match that. 

Jaime adjusts them again, so they're standing sideways, facing one another, with Ygritte capturing their profiles. He pulls Brienne to him, their bodies pressing against one another. Between how cold the studio is and how hot Jaime is, Brienne can feel her body reacting. He doesn’t say anything about her erect nipples when their chests touch. 

"Gimme your leg."

Brienne hikes her leg up, and Jaime grips it, bringing it up to his hip. The fabric of the chemise rides up, exposing her thigh and the lace of the white thong. She can feel the length of him pressed against her. Brienne gasps, but she doesn't pull away, and neither does Jaime. They stare at one another, his hand inching up toward the place where her thigh meets her pelvis. His fingers ease under the band of the thong. She's mesmerized. Jaime grips the thin lace waistband of her thong, and Brienne lets her head fall back. He leans in, and she grips his biceps as his nose skims her jugular. 

"Got it! Give us a minute," Ygritte calls. Jaime pulls Brienne up and releases his hold on her leg as Ygritte, Margaery, and Sansa flip through the photos on the computer. She steps away from him and tries not to look down, to see if the erection she thought she felt was real.  That’s inappropriate.

"That was good." 

She blushes at his words as an assistant comes over with robes and bottles of water. Jaime ignores his robe but takes the water, so Brienne does the same. She smiles at the assistant. 

“I hope they got some good stuff. I know I was stiff in the beginning.” Brienne takes a drink of water, mindful of her lipstick. It feels like the right thing to say. 

“I’m sure they did.” 

Jaime misses his mouth, causing water to drip down his chest. The sight is tantalizing, and Brienne wants to follow the water droplet with more than just her eyes, surprising herself. She looks up at Jaime and stares, vaguely aware that she’s missed something. She can tell by the mirth in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

Jaime chuckles. “I asked how old you were, but I can guess that you’re young. Before you went to hair and make-up, you were wearing a KLU sweatshirt, so what...21..22?”

She shakes her head. “24. I'm in the graduate program. What about you? 33...34?” 

Jaime arches an eyebrow and smirks. It makes Brienne blush. He makes her feel warm inside, and the frustrating part is she thinks he knows it. He’s not shy about his body, but she can see why. "Fit" would be an understatement. He is chiseled, sculpted, with the perfect amount of muscle definition. He’s the perfect amount of everything.

“32.”

“Well, you don’t look it.” Brienne's eyes go wide, and she can barely believe she said it out loud. "You're making a fool of yourself," she thinks, but in her defense, he’s clad in boxer briefs. How was she supposed to think with so much of him on display? 

“That’s the only way to stay working. Most men my age wouldn’t have gotten a call to do a lingerie shoot. My body is my moneymaker.” He flexes his pecs, and she nearly chokes on her water. 

“You two have great chemistry. I wanna really bring that out by putting some space between you two. We got some great stuff, but we need to show the garment more. And Marg wants to do a costume change, so let’s go at it again. Brienne, I like that you’re bringing a level of innocence. It’s playing nicely with Jaime’s sex appeal. I like the bed in the background, but we’re going to bring the chair up, and I want you guys to use that. Podrick! Can you get that moved?” 

Podrick steps onto the set and moves the chair near the foot of the bed that. Jaime lowers himself into the chair, and man spreads. It’s cocky but alluring. Brienne looks over at him, mouth slightly open, eyes slightly downcast. Ygritte begins clicking. Brienne is more lost than she was when she was posing with Jaime close to her, but she tries to hide it. 

She shifts her weight from one leg to the other, letting her hip jut. She looks over at Jaime, her face soft, eyes shining, fingers toying with the hem. He leans forward, and she turns her back to him, looking at the camera. He’s watching her, his eyes like hands, touching her, caressing her. She backs up closer to him. 

“Come here.” Brienne turns to Jaime, straddling his thigh, but she doesn’t sit. He rests his hand on the small of her back. Ygritte moves in closer, getting shots of her face and the front of the chemise. Brienne doesn’t look at the camera, she just looks at Jaime. She's drawn to him. Maybe it’s just the shoot. Perhaps it’s how easy it is to work with him. She reaches around and grabs his hand, then steps away, their fingers entangled. They look at each other. She can almost believe that the hunger in his eyes is real, that the fast way his fingers grip hers means he wants to hold on to her. 

He tugs gently on her hand. “Sit.” 

Jaime flicks his eyes to his lap. Brienne shakes her head, sure she’ll crush him. He tugs again, unappreciative of her hesitancy. She does as he requests but sits with her back to him, so the garment is on display. Brienne places her legs outside of Jaime's and tightens her calves, leaving a soft flex to her feet. He shifts under her, and she knows what she feels isn’t her imagination. The sound he makes when she arches her back confirms her suspicion. 

“I really think we got it. I’m excited about the wardrobe change. Brienne, head back to hair and make-up for a touch-up and a change of clothes.” Ygritte walks off. Brienne doesn’t know what to do. She shifts to stand, and Jaime groans again. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she stands. Jaime doesn’t say anything. Brienne can’t look at him, and she doesn’t know if he’ll want her to. She heads to hair and make-up with very inappropriate thoughts of Jaime on her mind. 


“I can’t go out there in this.” Brienne fingers the lace of the bodysuit. Where the first piece of lingerie had been loose and pretty, this one was fitted and sexy, with absolutely nothing modest about it. The lace is mostly see-through, however beautiful: black with wisteria accents. The plunging neckline offered the appearance of breasts, and the patterned lace leaves what's supposed to be tantalizing bits of skin on display. Brienne felt like a nymphomaniac wearing it. The bodysuit connected to garters that hugged her thighs, and though the stockings she was supposed to wear waited on the table, she couldn't bring herself to put them on.

There were slight changes made to Brienne's make-up. Her lipstick was dark and sultry, and she had a smoky eye to give her a perpetual smolder. The hairstylist added pieces to her hair so it would hang down her back in waves. 

She takes a deep breath and turns away from the mirror. Jaime has to see her in this. He has to touch her in it. Brienne accepts the robe from Podrick and ties it tight, tighter than she had the first time. She walks back to set and sees Jaime lounging on the bed, in briefs the same color as the accents in her bodysuit. The chair is gone, and suddenly the bed seems both too big and too small at the same time.  

“Damn, Brienne, you look hot!” Margaery looks her over and pouts. “You didn’t put on the stockings.”

“I have my limits, that was it...and they weren’t long enough.” Brienne doesn’t really know if they were long enough or not, and by the look on Marg’s face, they both know she's lying. 

“Come here, I want you to see something.” Margaery grabs Brienne and pulls her over to the computer. “Show her.” 

Brienne looks at the screen to see a photo from the first half of the shoot. She and Jaime are facing one another. The look in their eyes draws her in; they only have eyes for each other. His arms are wrapped around her, his hands rest on her ass. Jaime looks gorgeous.  They  look gorgeous together. It’s alarming. 

The image changes. Brienne gasps. She’s standing. Jaime is sitting in the chair, leaning toward her. All of his muscles are tense as if he’s struggling to stay seated. She’s looking at the camera, but she doesn’t recognize herself. Her face is soft, yet her eyes are piercing. One hand rests at the base of her neck, the other hangs. Her weight is on one side, causing her hip to pop a little. Her legs look long and loud. 

“I just thought you should see what other people see,” Margaery whispers from behind her. Brienne is at a loss for words. She can’t reconcile that she’s the one in the pictures. Brienne doesn't find herself attractive, and she’s not a model, but the woman in the photos is stunning. 

“Are you ready?” Ygritte asks, and Brienne nods, walking over to the set. Jaime is still lounging, and he looks up at her, smiling. 

“Are you ready for round two?” 

“Not at all.” Brienne tries to smile but fails. She’s overwhelmed. Seeing those photos, knowing that Jaime will see more of her than anyone has ever seen, while simultaneously trying to reconcile her feelings about her physical self and how unappealing she’s always felt. Brienne's never been praised for her body the way she has been today. She’s big, which is good for the wrestling team, but not for much else. 

“Come on, Legs, we’re pros at this by now.” She smiles at the nickname but bats Jaime's hand away when he reaches for the tie on her robe. He pouts, causing him to resemble a wounded puppy. Brienne turns away, taking a deep breath. She fiddles with the sash before finally pulling the robe off. Jaime inhales noisily behind her. 

“Damn…” He's closer than she thought, and his breath tickles the back of her neck. It makes her shudder, but she doesn't turn around. She can't. 

“Wow! Marg, I’m going to need one of these in red.” Ygritte looks over her shoulder at Margaery and receives a thumbs up. 

“We're starting with some overhead shots with Brienne, then we’ll have Jaime come in. We'll get a little more overhead stuff. I’ll come down, and we’ll finish like that. Brienne, the first one was innocent and sweet, but this is the complete opposite. I want to feel the sex this time.” Ygritte goes over to the ladder that’s set up. Brienne feels more than hears Jaime's retreat to the sideline. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Hey, you look amazing. Thank you again for doing this for Margaery. You’re almost done. I owe you one. Anything you want, I promise.” Sansa rubs Brienne’s upper arm and smiles at her. Brienne nods and walks onto the set. She crawls onto the bed, and Ygritte starts taking pictures immediately. It startles Brienne momentarily. She thought she would have time to get situated first, but she shakes it off, reaches the center of the bed and lies down on her back. One of the hairstylists comes over and arranges her hair on the pillows. 

“Small movements, Brienne.” 

She tilts her chin to catch the light in the right way, bends her knee, bringing her heel near the curve of her ass. She arches slightly, causing her chest to rise off the bed. Brienne turns her head, catching sight of Jaime. He’s watching her, eyes dark, fists clenched. She bites her lip and closes her eyes.

“Keep it up, Brienne. Jaime, get in there.” 

Brienne doesn’t open her eyes as she feels the bed dip with Jaime's weight. His legs slide against hers, and he touches her chin, gently turning her face to his. She opens her eyes, wanting to see him. Jaime smirks, leaning in. For a moment, Brienne panics, turning her head as he cuddles into her neck. She looks up at the camera, trying to ignore both the rolling in her stomach and the gentle nipping he’s doing along her neck. 

“You look edible,” he whispers in her ear. She shudders against him. Her mind goes blank. She doesn’t know how to respond or what to say. Brienne pulls away from him and sits up, bracing herself on both hands. 

He reaches out and strokes her cheek. His touch feels good,  too good.  They're both there to do a job, she needs to remember that. 

“Coming down! Gimme a minute.” 

Brienne pulls away from Jaime, letting her legs hang off the side of the bed. She takes a deep breath, resting her forearms on her thighs. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jaime whispers from behind her. Brienne shakes her head. She doesn’t want him to apologize, she just wants  him,  and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling. She doesn’t wish for things because she knows she'll never get them anyway, and Jaime is so far out of the realm of attainability that it makes her nauseous. She feels the bed moving, and a moment later, he’s kneeling in front of her. 

“I mean it. You look...-" Jaime pauses and looks away before looking back at Brienne, "that was unprofessional of me.” 

She shakes her head. “It’s not. It wasn’t. I’m just….I’m sorry. I’m just…” Brienne looks away from him. He’s too pretty, and she can’t think. He’s kind, also, and it seems genuine. Most of the men she’s known taunt and tease her. 

Brienne tries to shake the feelings away. She’s there to do a job. She agreed to do it, and that’s all she needs to do. 

“I’m sorry, I'm ridiculous.” 

He cocks his head to the side. “Whatever you’re worried about, just throw it away. You look….” Jaime trails off, his eyes roaming over Brienne. He licks his lips and looks her in the eyes. She wants him to finish his sentence. She needs to know what he thinks. She hopes this beautiful man actually thinks she’s worthy of his attention.

“You two ready?” 

“Give us a minute,” Jaime responds without taking his eyes off Brienne. “You don’t know me, and you probably don’t care, but I’m glad that Cersei didn’t show up. It means I got to work with you.” 

Brienne smiles.

“And I must say, I’ve enjoyed seeing your legs up close. Red Keep didn’t do them justice.” 

She blushes and looks away. 

“How long are your legs, anyway? If you had to guess? Maybe 60 inches?” 

“They aren’t five feet long!” Brienne shoves Jaime playfully and stands. 

“They look longer from this angle. I quite like it.” He tilts his head to the side, smirking up at her. She scoffs as she steps around him, trying to hide her amusement.

“I think we’re ready,” Brienne calls to Ygritte. 

“So, you’ll start standing or sitting. Whichever. I want you to really get into it. We’re trying to sell lingerie. Very, very  sexy lingerie. Brienne, I want you to find your inner sex goddess and let her out.”

Brienne doesn’t have an inner sex goddess. Or an outer sex goddess. She doesn't have a sex anything. 

Jaime comes up from behind as Ygritte begins taking photos. It’s similar to the first time, but there’s more of her skin on display, so when he puts a hand on her hip, there’s no barrier. It’s just the warmth of his skin on hers. Brienne reaches up, draping an arm around the back of his neck, lengthening her torso.  

He wraps an arm around her waist and presses into her. She bites her lip, closes her eyes, and tilts her head. His lips find her neck.

“Yes, you two!” Margaery says from the sideline. 

He drags his bottom lip up towards her ear. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” Brienne is breathless. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, but Ygritte is still taking pictures. Sansa and Margaery are to the left of the set, whispering to one another. Then Brienne feels it. Jaime's teeth trap her earlobe while he drops his hand to her thigh, gripping the garter there. On fire, she opens her eyes slowly and looks into the camera. 

He releases her earlobe, and she turns her head to look at him. Her lips brush his. He lets it happen. She wants to pull away, but then his lips close around her bottom lip. She tenses for a moment, and he releases her. Brienne ignores the squeal from the peanut gallery as he walks around her. Her skin prickles at his gentle caress. Jaime stands facing her and lowers himself slowly. He looks up at her as she cards her fingers through his hair, then kisses her inner thigh. Brienne's grip tightens. 

 His lips are soft and far too close to where no one but herself has ever touched. She doesn’t want him to stop. Her head falls back as her lips part slightly.

“Fuck, yes!” Ygritte says as she takes multiple pictures in quick succession. 

He stands painstakingly slow, his lips never leaving her skin. Her breath hitches as his bottom lip brushes against her upper inner thigh and hip. When he reaches his full height, he steps to the right so that she’s visible to the camera. His fingers brush hers, and she looks at him. They lean toward each other and stop just before their lips touch. The flash from the camera lights them up. His hand is drawing distracting patterns on her inner thigh, and it’s making her knees wobble. She turns into his arms. His hand slips to her lace covered ass and squeezes gently. 

“Jaime…” Brienne doesn’t know what compels her to say his name, but she can’t help it. He presses against her, and there’s a slight sound in the back of his throat. Too soon, he backs away, and she whimpers at the loss of contact. He lowers himself onto the bed and looks up at her. Ygritte starts to move around them. Brienne turns her back to Jaime and arranges her legs on either side of his thigh. He leans his head against her outer thigh and wraps his arm around it. His pinky teases the garter. Ygritte flicks away, capturing the intensity of the moment. 

Brienne flips her hair and looks down at Jaime. He turns his head, his lips pressing against the garter. More flashes from the camera. She places her hand on the back of his head and looks at Ygritte. The redhead smirks as she presses the button on the camera repeatedly. 

Jaime leans back on his hands and looks up at Brienne with mirth and mischief dancing his eyes. It’s some kind of dare. She flexes her quads and bends at the waist. Her hair cascades around her face while she looks up at the camera. Jaime grunts behind her.

Brienne stands slowly and turns to Jaime. She steps between his legs and cups his chin, places her left knee on the bed outside of his hip, and drops her head back. It’s odd to feel hair brush against the top of her ass, but she holds it, remembering to let her poses breathe so that Ygritte can get good pictures. 

Jaime strokes her left thigh before sitting up. He grabs her ass, and she gasps, unprepared. She looks down at him, her hair creating a curtain. He smirks. 

“Straddle me.” He leans back expectantly, and she's frozen in place. Brienne has never done that before, and it makes her chest flush. Jaime beckons her with two fingers, and she knows she has to do something. Ygritte is still taking pictures, but Brienne hasn’t moved. She takes a deep breath and puts her other knee on the bed. She doesn’t lower herself, but Jaime seems to know she isn't ready to go that far. He sits up and encloses her in his arms, his head resting under her breasts. She looks into the camera and threads her fingers through his hair. 

“Come on, gimme something more.” 

Brienne looks down at Jaime, and he raises both eyebrows at her in question. She closes her eyes for a brief second and takes a breath, steeling herself before opening them again and lowering herself totally. He leans back, and she plants her hands on his chest, allowing her elbows to bend until she's nearly flush on top of him. Jaime moves his arms over his head, and Brienne reaches up to trap his wrists in her hands. 

“Arch your back, Bri!” calls Margaery.

“Sit up just a little,” Ygritte adds. 

Brienne takes the direction, but she can’t tear her eyes away from Jaime, whose eyes are nearly black, and whose hardness is pressing between her legs. He keeps shifting ever so slightly, sending small, unexpected tendrils of pleasure through her, and Brienne realizes she wants him more than she's wanted anything in her life. 

“Hold on, guys, my battery is dying.” 

Brienne relaxes as Ygritte walks away. Jaime tenses under her, and she rolls off of him. He doesn’t speak, but she can hear him breathing. In and out. Deep breaths. 

“Sorry about that. Has a mind of its own.” 

They hadn’t addressed it all day, but maybe this time was different. He rolls out of bed, and she turns away from him onto her side to give him privacy. 

“I like this. Let’s get some with Jaime standing and Brienne in the bed. If you guys end up in bed together, it’s fine.” 

Brienne tries to hide her shock, but it's hard. The insinuation is clear, and she can’t un-hear it. She shakes it off for the time being and tries to emulate some of the photos she’s seen in magazines. Brienne faces Ygritte, rubbing her legs together, bending one knee then the other. She sits up, resting her head on her hand, already missing Jaime's warmth. It makes her feel pathetic, but she fights through her self-pity. She gets up on her hands and knees, arches her back and lets her hair tumble down. Ygritte smiles, and Brienne takes that as a good sign. She holds it, adjusting her head slightly, changing up her expression. 

Balancing herself on her knees, she puts her hands in her hair and looks down when she feels him against her back. Jaime's hand snakes around and grips her inner thigh. They hold there, the camera clicking away in the background, and he leans in near her pulse point, first with a subtle brush of his lips, then kissing, his tongue flicking in time with her heartbeat. Brienne whimpers and Jaime tightens his grip on her. 

Her heart feels like it’s trying to break out of her ribcage. She turns her head toward him and cups the back of his head. His bottom lip brushes her top one, and she snakes her tongue out to lick it. Jaime groans and Brienne lets her eyes close. He doesn’t pull away, but instead leans in and takes her mouth with his. His tongue is firm, confident, probing.  

She moans in his mouth, her mind clouding over. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was definitely her best kiss. Brienne retreats first, the feel of his lips burned into her memory. When her eyes flutter open, he’s watching her, eyes black and glittering. 

“Alright, that’s a wrap!” Ygritte announces. She turns from them and walks over to Sansa and Margaery, who are huddled by the computer. Jaime releases her and plops back on the bed. She lies down on her stomach. His hand brushes Brienne's arm, making her jump.

“You were outstanding, especially for it being your first time.” 

“Thanks.” She knows she’s red and she can’t help it. She’s been in more intimate positions with Jaime than she has with any man in her entire life. It should feel wrong, but all she wants is for him to touch her again. Without the camera. She knows the seat of the lingerie is moist, and she curses the fact that she has to do the suit photoshoot right after this. She needs to be alone to process everything, and to relieve the ache between her thighs.

“You should branch out. I know Margaery is a friend of yours, but you could get lots of work. I’m sure you could model for just about anyone.” 

Brienne shakes her head even before Jaime's yet finished. She isn’t a real model and has no interest in making it permanent. She’s already dreading when the photos make their way online and into whatever magazine they’ll be featured in. She thought the wrestling team teased her before, but she can only imagine what they’re going to do when they see these photos. 

“That’s too bad. I’d love to see more of you.” Brienne looks up at Jaime then. There isn’t much more of her left to see, but she knows if he asked, she would let him. He’s turned her into a vixen in just three hours. It’s sorcery. She’s never felt so warm, awake, and sexually frustrated in her entire life. Brienne watches Jaime stand, and her eyes are drawn to the imprint in his briefs. Podrick hands him a robe, and he pulls it on, tying it loosely. He looks back at her, eyes roaming her body. He takes his time, committing her to memory. When he reaches her face, she feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. Everything else melts away. It’s just him, looking at her with intention. 

“When you’re ready to experience more firsts, come find me.” Brienne's eyes feel like they are going to fall out of her skull. Jaime walks away, and all she can do is stare. Once he’s out of sight, she drops her face into the pillow and groans, squeezing her legs together to try and ease the unbearable ache. She doesn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. Either way it doesn't change the that the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on just offered to be her first. 

“Um, that got really hot at the end.” Brienne keeps her face in the pillow, not ready to talk to Sansa or anyone else. She knew it was hot. Hell, her body was still humming from his touch. 

“You guys gave us some excellent stuff." Sansa paused. "You've got some time before you need to start getting ready for the suit shoot.” 

Brienne sits up and nods. She needs to be alone. She reaches for the robe that Podrick left at the edge of the bed and pulls it on, tying the belt.

“I just need a minute.” She doesn’t wait for Sansa to respond, just walks off the set, and heads down the hall towards her changing room. She nearly passes by Jaime’s room but stops. Brienne can hear him moving around and feeling ridiculous, tries to will herself to knock.  

The door swings open. Jaime is dressed in jeans and a sweater, a messenger bag on his shoulder. 

There are words Brienne wants to say, but nothing comes out. Instead, she's trying to understand how he’s just as attractive in clothes as he was in underwear. Wordlessly, he takes a step back and drops his bag. It's an invitation. She finds that she doesn't even have to think about it, and crosses the threshold.

Brienne turns to close the door, can feel Jaime's heated gaze before turning back to face him. Her mind raced; thoughts moving too quickly for her to settle on any particular one. She bit her lip, wondering what she was doing. Should she say something? Do something? He decides for her by closing the distance between them and wrapping her in his arms. They’re nearly eye to eye, and she can’t seem to steady her breathing. He leans in slowly, giving her the option to pull away. She doesn't.  

When Jaime's lips touch hers, she’s weak. There are no cameras, no directions being shouted, and he’s kissing her because he wants to. Brienne's eyes closed as his tongue slips inside her mouth. She lets him take the lead. It’s different from the kiss in front of the camera. He was holding back then; he’s not anymore. Jaime holds her face in his hand as he delves deeper into her mouth. The movement of his tongue is rhythmic, hypnotic. If he was casting a spell, she was willingly falling under it. 

When he pulls away, Brienne cries out, wanting him close again. She feels like her body isn’t her own, as if she's lost all control over herself and her actions. 

“Brienne... you should go.” 

She shakes her head; she doesn’t want to leave. She’s there, with him, ready for whatever is going to happen. She wants to feel something. She wants him to touch her.

“You told me to come find you. So I did.” 

Jaime reaches out and grabs the tie on her robe, tugging gently, causing the knot to loosen. He pushes the fabric off of her shoulders, and it flutters to the floor around her ankles. She’s not embarrassed anymore. Brienne kisses his chin, then his jaw as it clenches under her lips. She wraps her arms around his waist and kisses him, pressing her lips to his. Jaime folds at that moment, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her flush against him. His lips latched onto her neck, stubble scraping her pale skin. She likes it. 

Jaime's mouth is masterful as it moves to her collar bone. He sucks on the spot where her sternum and clavicle meet, then trails down the valley between her breasts. Brienne cups his head and holds him there. She can hear the blood rushing in her ears. The throbbing between her legs is so insistent, she’s worried that the evidence of her arousal will run down her leg. The thin lace that sits between them is entirely saturated. 

“Oh, gods.” He feels better than anything. Jaime closes his mouth around one of Brienne's nipples and flicks his tongue against it through the lace. She arches into him, soft needy sounds falling from her lips. 

He pushes the lace aside, and his mouth on her bare nipple makes her knees buckle. He holds her up, and she’s grateful for his strength. Jaime walks Brienne backward until the backs of her thighs hit something. He pulls away then, brushing her cheek with his knuckles. 

“Touch me.” 

Jaime smirks and lifts Brienne onto the table behind her. His hands slide up, cupping her small breasts, and kneads them gently before leaning in, teasing one, then the other with quick flicks of his tongue. She scoots to the edge of the table, needing contact, needing to be enveloped, needing the ache to stop. Jaime thumbs her nipples before retaking her mouth. Brienne can’t keep up. The kiss is sloppy, but neither one of them cares. His hands grip her thighs possessively. He groans in her mouth, and she tries to rock against him. Jaime's kisses move downward. Chin. Jaw. Jugular. Sternum. The lace covering her belly button. The lower his lips go, the harder it is for Brienne to breathe. He kneels, and she thinks she's never seen anything so erotic. 

Jaime nips at the tender skin of her inner thighs, causing Brienne to start. The table creaks under her, and she blushes. Jaime stands and pulls her off of it, and she worries the moment has passed. He’ll tell her to leave and mean it. When Jaime steps away from her, she feels the fear of rejection trying to hang a cloud over her, but it’s unnecessary. He bends down to pick up her robe and spreads it on the carpet. She gets the message. 

Jaime lies down on top of her, and the weight of him is delightful. Brienne arches into him, and he pushes his denim-clad pelvis against her needy core in response, kissing her while rocking in a steady rhythm. She grips his ass, rolling her hips against him. Her breathing is labored, her skin feels hot, and his touch is just too much, but... she’ll happily burn.

 Once again, Jaime's kisses shift downward, following the trail he’d taken before. He shoulders himself between Brienne's legs, and they fall open without warning, suddenly having acquired a mind of their own.  

Jaime places open-mouthed kisses on her inner thighs, and she squirms against him, sure she's going into sensory overload. For the life of her, she can’t make her breathing calm the hell down. His nose nuzzles against the lace covering her pussy, and she cries out. He looks up at her. She watches him bring his mouth down and kisses her nether lips through the lace. 

“Jaime…” 

He does it again, pressing firmly against her, and she pushes herself against his mouth. He flicks his tongue, and she squeals, legs shaking, mind going absolutely blank. Nothing else matters except what Jaime is doing.

Brienne feels his fingers pulling at the lace, then it’s his tongue, and then she screams. He doesn’t try to muffle the sound or shush her, he just groans against her pussy. He’s everywhere, inside the deepest parts of her as well as covering every square inch of her epidermis. She looks down at Jaime; he’s watching her. It makes her stomach lurch, and she rolls her hips against his face. His beard rubs against her inner thighs, and she likes the way it prickles and abrades her tender flesh. 

She tangles her fingers in his hair as her heart beats a staccato rhythm against her ribs. Coherent thought is long gone. Brienne feels sounds escaping her throat, but hasn’t a clue what they might mean. She’s strung taut like a bow, and then something releases inside her. She’s no stranger to orgasms and has actually learned how to get herself off quite effectively, but it’s never felt like this. His name falls off her lips thickly, like honey from a bottle. 

Jaime holds her thighs and continues to lick her. It’s too much, and even though Brienne wants him to stop, she needs him to keep going. His tongue is firm when he presses it against her entrance, and she shrieks, wrapping her legs around his head. He holds her in place and captures her clit between his lips, tonguing it, alternating between circles and solid flicks. 

She’s panting, hair stuck to her forehead, body buzzing, teetering on edge. Brienne can see the determination in Jaime's eyes, but also something else, something she can’t quite name. When his tongue slides down to ease in and out of her, she shatters. 

Brienne catches her breath as he leaves sweet kisses on her inner thighs. Jaime kisses his way up her body until he’s hovering over her. His face is wet from her essence, and she wants to taste it on him. He leans down and kisses her languidly. She whimpers into his mouth. She wants to sleep for hours next to him. 

“I have to go,” he whispers against her lips. 

“I should too. I have another shoot.” 

Jaime doesn’t move right away, and Brienne doesn’t either. He leans in and kisses her again. This time it feels like an ending, like a good-bye. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Legs. I meant it when I said I’d like to see more of you.”