Cersei/Jaime for ASOIAF Kink Meme
Prompt - Jaime/Cersei, reversing places for a night; wherein Cersei wears the armor and does the fucking.
His first thought had been that it was like looking into a mirror. His second had mapped the differences between them - he was sure that her legs looked far shapelier in breeches then his ever did. Jaime’s third thought had been interrupted by a kiss so aggressive it was nearly a bite and they had spiralled down from there, until he was pinned to the bed underneath her. Then they got carried away. They always got carried away.
They had fooled Cersei’s septa and their father’s kennel master for most of the morning but it was becoming a game that was increasingly difficult. Cersei could stuff the top of the dress but his voice no longer sounded like hers. And, to his growing delight, her breasts were becoming too large to bind under the shirt. The game was coming to an end and while Jaime could live without the septa spouting her tired, dry courtesies at him, it would be harder to give up Cersei like this.
It wasn’t that she looked attractive in his clothes, although she did. It was that after she had finished running with the dogs and horses, she would always come to him and it was like her blood was on fire. Something in that little taste of his life aroused her and sitting with the septa was a small price to pay for being fucked through all seven hells afterwards. That or he looked more attractive in a dress than he could possibly imagine.
She was knelt between his legs, only half visible behind the ridiculous amount of skirt that refused to lie flat and he closed his eyes to concentrate on her fingers. Her long, ruthless, unyielding and perfect fingers that were buried inside him making his hips buck every time she curled her fingertips. Cersei wasn’t good at being gentle but that had never mattered. Nothing she did really mattered so long as it was her.
He was so hard it hurt and he arched his back, trying to get some friction from the inside of the skirt, a move that wasn’t lost on his twin and her fingers worked harder and faster. A stifled groan turned into her name on Jaime’s lips and it earned him a look of irritation.
“No. That isn’t right.”
“Jaime,” he said and the shape of the word felt odd in his mouth.
She had partly unpicked the laces of her breeches and slipped her other hand inside. Her breathing quickened and her eyes were half lidded as she watched him writhe, practically fucking himself on her fingers.
He was panting now, watching her getting off on watching him was more than he could take. “Oh gods... please, harder. Jaime, Jaime.” He came with his own name on his lips, over the inside of the skirt and watched as Cersei moaned where she knelt, her body jolting hard, once. For a moment she seemed frozen in bliss, and then she crawled wordlessly down into his arms.
It was those short moments between sex and everything else - between sleep and waking, between the places where the life he wanted collided with the life he had - that made the most sense to Jaime. And, though she was doing her best to pretend that she didn’t care that she would spend the morrow apologising to her septa for his mistakes, he found that the only thing in the world that made sense to him was tucked under his arm with her legs wrapped around his waist.
His first thought had been that it was like looking into a mirror. His second had mapped the differences between them - he was sure that her legs looked far shapelier in breeches then his ever did. Jaime’s third thought had been interrupted by a kiss so aggressive it was nearly a bite and they had spiralled down from there, until he was pinned to the bed underneath her. Then they got carried away. They always got carried away.
They had fooled Cersei’s septa and their father’s kennel master for most of the morning but it was becoming a game that was increasingly difficult. Cersei could stuff the top of the dress but his voice no longer sounded like hers. And, to his growing delight, her breasts were becoming too large to bind under the shirt. The game was coming to an end and while Jaime could live without the septa spouting her tired, dry courtesies at him, it would be harder to give up Cersei like this.
It wasn’t that she looked attractive in his clothes, although she did. It was that after she had finished running with the dogs and horses, she would always come to him and it was like her blood was on fire. Something in that little taste of his life aroused her and sitting with the septa was a small price to pay for being fucked through all seven hells afterwards. That or he looked more attractive in a dress than he could possibly imagine.
She was knelt between his legs, only half visible behind the ridiculous amount of skirt that refused to lie flat and he closed his eyes to concentrate on her fingers. Her long, ruthless, unyielding and perfect fingers that were buried inside him making his hips buck every time she curled her fingertips. Cersei wasn’t good at being gentle but that had never mattered. Nothing she did really mattered so long as it was her.
He was so hard it hurt and he arched his back, trying to get some friction from the inside of the skirt, a move that wasn’t lost on his twin and her fingers worked harder and faster. A stifled groan turned into her name on Jaime’s lips and it earned him a look of irritation.
“No. That isn’t right.”
“Jaime,” he said and the shape of the word felt odd in his mouth.
She had partly unpicked the laces of her breeches and slipped her other hand inside. Her breathing quickened and her eyes were half lidded as she watched him writhe, practically fucking himself on her fingers.
He was panting now, watching her getting off on watching him was more than he could take. “Oh gods... please, harder. Jaime, Jaime.” He came with his own name on his lips, over the inside of the skirt and watched as Cersei moaned where she knelt, her body jolting hard, once. For a moment she seemed frozen in bliss, and then she crawled wordlessly down into his arms.
It was those short moments between sex and everything else - between sleep and waking, between the places where the life he wanted collided with the life he had - that made the most sense to Jaime. And, though she was doing her best to pretend that she didn’t care that she would spend the morrow apologising to her septa for his mistakes, he found that the only thing in the world that made sense to him was tucked under his arm with her legs wrapped around his waist.