Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, MlainemontgomeryMay 16 2013, 02:05:29 UTC
His right arm skims up the side of her leg, and she smiles at the sensation. It took so much time, so much effort, so much coaxing...but now, he leaves the golden hand on the bedside table, rubbing her with the pleasantly-alien smoothness of the stump.
(Can you feel it? she’d asked him once, as she softly dragged her teeth over the rounded end. No, he’d whispered, and his eyes turned stormy, and she straddled his lap and kissed him senseless- her own form of contrition.)
Sansa cups her palm over the stump now; the clean heal never ceases to fascinate her. There is little scarring to speak of, just a discolored band where the cut occurred, and new, pristine skin patching the area below.
Absurdly, she recalls a tale she’d once heard of the Summer Isles, where nobles remove the claws from their lapcats, leaving the paws soft and silky and entirely harmless. Barbaric? Perhaps. But as Jaime strokes his stump into the curve of her waist, as her eyes flutter shut and she succumbs to the gentle delicateness of it all, she thinks she can quite understand the appeal of a feline without sharps.
True, Jaime’s left hand remains whole. But it seems forever in need of assurance and validation, forever seeking to prove itself, to become stronger and better, to tailor its strengths to the present. Sansa likes that. Sansa respects that.
Every now and then, when the drink flows too freely and the hardness returns to Jaime’s eyes, he will whisper in her ear as he thrusts into her, as his left fingers rub at her pleasure spot and his stump traces her breasts. He will speak of his hand, of his dearly departed right hand, of the pleasure it would bring to her, of how perfect everything would be, were he only complete again.
And she allows it. She gives him this gift, this indulgence, this opportunity to grieve the life, the memories, the loves and the dreams. She never speaks her own doubts- they would do him no good, and it is so much easier to let him spend inside her and gather him to her bosom and coil herself around him like vines on a tree, letting her body give the comfort her words cannot.
But when he falls asleep, when the moonlight washes his beautiful face in silver, she silently and selfishly thanks the Gods for bringing this skewed and shattered version of Jaime Lannister into the world. For without the missing claws, he could never have saved her...and she could never have loved him at all.
Re: Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, MpinkimartiniMay 16 2013, 02:33:58 UTC
I agree, I love the idea of Jaime being declawed because that really is what happened to him. This was wonderful and I cannot thank Laine enough. I'm also loving that he would likely tell her about how great his right hand once was (I'm sure it totally was, too).
Re: Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, MlainemontgomeryMay 28 2013, 21:09:32 UTC
HAHA, Jaime would totally have a very high opinion of his right-handed skills with the ladiez. (Of course, it's my headcanon that Jaime is TERRIBLE at sex with anyone who isn't Cersei, which makes it sadder/funnier.) Thank you for reading!! :D
Re: Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, MpinkimartiniMay 28 2013, 21:53:23 UTC
Ugh - could you imagine? Jaime wouldn't even apologize for his terrible skills but instead just sulk away. Of course, he would always try again because he would try to psych himself into thinking that he could do it. lol...I love Jaime.
Re: Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, Mjuno_chanMay 16 2013, 04:49:40 UTC
Oooh, I LOVE the parallel between Jaime losing his hand and a cat being declawed - that is a stroke of GENIUS right there, my dear!! And like others, I LOVE Jaime bragging about what his right hand WOULD have done - I love that you still have him reeling from the loss here, after all this time. It feels just so RIGHT, y'know? Basically this is perfect and so are you SO THAT SHOULD BE NO SURPRISE. <3
Re: Declawed, Jaime/Sansa, MlainemontgomeryMay 17 2013, 19:16:38 UTC
I always get mad when I read future!Jaime fics that make it seem like he's totally come to terms with the missing hand...because he will NEVER EVER be completely okay with that! Thank you so muchhhhhhhhh for the lovely comment- your comments always make me so happyyyyy!!
(Can you feel it? she’d asked him once, as she softly dragged her teeth over the rounded end. No, he’d whispered, and his eyes turned stormy, and she straddled his lap and kissed him senseless- her own form of contrition.)
Sansa cups her palm over the stump now; the clean heal never ceases to fascinate her. There is little scarring to speak of, just a discolored band where the cut occurred, and new, pristine skin patching the area below.
Absurdly, she recalls a tale she’d once heard of the Summer Isles, where nobles remove the claws from their lapcats, leaving the paws soft and silky and entirely harmless. Barbaric? Perhaps. But as Jaime strokes his stump into the curve of her waist, as her eyes flutter shut and she succumbs to the gentle delicateness of it all, she thinks she can quite understand the appeal of a feline without sharps.
True, Jaime’s left hand remains whole. But it seems forever in need of assurance and validation, forever seeking to prove itself, to become stronger and better, to tailor its strengths to the present. Sansa likes that. Sansa respects that.
Every now and then, when the drink flows too freely and the hardness returns to Jaime’s eyes, he will whisper in her ear as he thrusts into her, as his left fingers rub at her pleasure spot and his stump traces her breasts. He will speak of his hand, of his dearly departed right hand, of the pleasure it would bring to her, of how perfect everything would be, were he only complete again.
And she allows it. She gives him this gift, this indulgence, this opportunity to grieve the life, the memories, the loves and the dreams. She never speaks her own doubts- they would do him no good, and it is so much easier to let him spend inside her and gather him to her bosom and coil herself around him like vines on a tree, letting her body give the comfort her words cannot.
But when he falls asleep, when the moonlight washes his beautiful face in silver, she silently and selfishly thanks the Gods for bringing this skewed and shattered version of Jaime Lannister into the world. For without the missing claws, he could never have saved her...and she could never have loved him at all.
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