Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/747884.

Rating: Archive Warning: Category: Fandom: Relationship: Character: Additional Tags: Explicit No Archive Warnings Apply F/M A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Noir, Cops, Crime Fighting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, asoiaf kink meme, Sharing a Room, Sharing a Bed, Smut Part 2 of Buddycops AU ASOIAF Kink Meme Published: 2013-04-04 Words: 2381

Series: Collections: Stats:

looking for the grace from which they fell

by fallingtowers Summary

Even a silly sexual fantasy that involved his horse-faced, freckled, braless partner was better than the obvious answer to her question. A corrupt cop and a rookie turning rogue; losing everything on a futile road trip that led them to a sleazy motel in Bumfuck, Indiana; looking for an elusive red-haired teen that had probably been offed by a random perv weeks ago how could that have been worth anything?

Notes
See the end of the work for notes

It was way past midnight, but Jaime couldnt sleep. Some guy out in the parking lot had been ranting to himself for the past ten minutes, in the shouty, slurred voice of the dead drunk, and whoever crashed next door seemed to have dozed off to the home-shopping network. Also tacky jewelry infomercials and pissed monologues aside Jaime was horny as hell. Fucking ridiculous, he thought, considering the company he kept. Shes a horse-faced bitch, he told himself and felt oddly guilty for falling back on that old insult, even in the privacy of his mind. The message from brain to cock went astray anyway. Briennes closeness excited him, despite himself. Whenever he took a deep breath, feigning sleep, he inhaled dried sweat and cheap deodorant, the fragrance incongruously flowery and feminine. It made him wonder what the freckled skin tasted like underneath the days dirt. If one of them edged a bit nearer to the middle of the bed, or tugged on the shared blanket, their backs or butts would bump, and his partners skin radiated heat, all the way through that ratty t-shirt shed insisted on wearing to bed.

She shifted, just a little, stretching to find a more comfortable position in that confined space, her bare feet brushing his calves. Her toes were cold, unlike the rest of her body, and Jaime twitched. "M sorry," Brienne muttered groggily. Unlike him, she didnt pretend. He didnt answer, clinging to his act, although he wanted to cuss out loud. Her touch had been accidental and innocent no pedicured feet in sheer stockings trailing seductively from ankle to knee the very idea of Brienne with painted toe-nails and sexy hosiery was a complete hoot but once he started thinking about her naked legs (about muscled thighs pressing him down), he was more than half-hard. Another couple of minutes, and hed bring himself off in the bathroom with his good hand, a sad, pathetic jerk over a dusty washbasin, with the silverfishes and a cockroach for company. Jaime grinned wryly at the mental image, at his self-pitying folly, and a chuckle escaped him. "Jaime," Brienne whispered. "Hey. Are you awake?" Fuck. "Since youre asking so nicely, yeah," he grumbled, hoping to silence her immediately. "Not for very long, I hope." "I am sorry," she said again. "Is your hand bothering you?" He barely noticed the dull pain anymore, had tried his best to ignore the ache under the itching plaster cast, where the Goats goons had broken each of his fingers. "Not really," he said brusquely, "just " Just my cock. Care to lend me a hand there? Of course, he didnt say so, as much as he longed for her shocked gasp and an outraged scowl he could but guess at in the near-dark. "Just what?" "Nothing," he said. "Go back to sleep." Brienne was clearly more alert with every passing second. She carefully turned around: her warm breath ghosted over Jaimes neck as she spoke, raising goose bumps in its wake. "Do you think well find her?" she asked, her voice strangely plaintive. He shrugged, keeping his back to her, knowing that she would feel even that light a movement when there were only a couple of inches between them. The honest reply would have been no. They were on a desperate hunt after a missing girl, who might lie dead in some shallow grave god knew where, and unless they combed all the ditches alongside all the roads in all the fifty fucking states, nobody would see Sansa Stark again. "Do do you think it was worth it?" she said, a breathless whisper in the sudden stillness. Parking lot guy must have staggered in to sleep it off, and the shrill saleswoman from the shopping channel had fallen silent. Briennes words, soft-spoken though they were, echoed through the dingy motel room, as startling as gunshots. (He had emptied his whole clip in Aarons face, though a single bullet would have done the trick.) She inched closer to his hunched shoulder, and all Jaime could think of was the shape of her small breasts, hardly noticeable under the thin shirt. Clearly, she wouldnt wear a bra she didnt need one. Even a silly sexual fantasy that involved his horse-faced, freckled, braless partner was better than the obvious answer to her question. A corrupt cop and a rookie turning rogue; losing everything on a futile road trip that led them to a sleazy motel in Bumfuck, Indiana; looking for an elusive red-haired teen that had probably been offed by a random perv weeks ago how could that have been worth anything?

"I dont know," he said instead. "I hope so." For one blinding moment, Jaime believed himself. "Me too," Brienne said, "thank you, Jaime." It was the genuine gratitude that did it. She shouldnt thank him for his white lies for anything, really. Hostility and suspicion were easy to deal with, but earnest trust unsettled him. Jaime rolled over to face her, knowing well that shed notice his hard-on as soon as either of them leaned forward an inch or two. "Dont thank me," he snorted. "Im hardly one of the good guys." She automatically moved towards him to catch his words, her hips brushing his. Jaime flashed her a lop-sided grin: at that point, a huffy put-down or a slap in the face would come as a peculiar relief, compared to her goddamn sincerity and that stupid, stubborn refusal to give up hope. Slowly, deliberately, he ground his erect cock against her stomach, and her wide, round eyes eyes big as saucers glittered in the dim, greenish shine from the neon sign outside. The expected punch did not come. "Jaime," Brienne whispered again, in a strangled voice that he hadnt heard before. But then, she had never been about to kiss him. Her lips were dry and rough, and her kiss was anything but sweet. Under the sharp mint aroma of her toothpaste, she tasted slightly of the greasy burgers and piss-thin beer theyd had for dinner. This shouldnt have been such a freaky turn-on. But it was real everything about Brienne was real, not like the tangled web of half-truths and falsehoods that ensnared them and the seduction of her sloppy, artless kisses wrapped itself around Jaimes desire to simply fuck those childish illusions out of her. As he coaxed her mouth open with his tongue, she responded so eagerly that their noses collided. "Sorry," Brienne muttered against his mouth, her eyes pressed firmly shut. "It its been a while. Not that I got much practice." She swallowed, and Jaimes lips strayed briefly to her throat, teasing the nervous words out. "I mean I did it before but not very often," she said. "You heard the locker room talk, didnt you? Im a yknow a slut who cant keep her legs shut, or Im a bull dyke, or Im too hideous to get laid, like, ever." He had indeed heard it all, had even thrown some of the common slurs right in her face, when they barely knew each other. But it made him kind of queasy to hear the insults from her mouth, so flat and dull. He raised his head to resume their kiss, but Brienne continued talking, and he saw her flush a bit, in the half light. . "Actually, Im Im not a virgin. Its just that sex was okay, it wasnt all bad, but I dont think I know how to make it fun, so " It was an apology in advance, all right, but it was a request too, Jaime realized, forgetting about his earlier plan to fuck her blind until she saw him for the selfish man that he was in everybody elses eyes. That was a wish he might just be selfless enough to grant. He wouldnt have to live down to the reputation of the cop that blew his superiors brains out, or worse, to live up to Briennes nave expectations of redeeming his sordid past in the form of one phantom girl with bright red hair. Hed simply have to make this worth her while.

"Well see about the fun," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "I got a handicap here, what with the cast. This leaves you a fair share of the work. I trust you learn fast." His left hand slipped under her shirt to confirm his suspicions about her missing bra. Her right breast fit exactly into his palm, and he rubbed it in slow, teasing circles until her breath hitched. "Didnt you used to call me stupid?" she asked with a low laugh, as close to flirtatious as she would get. Jaimes lips twitched in a grin that probably looked completely idiotic. "I also called you stubborn." Brienne didnt try to argue the point not that he would have let her, as he swallowed another sharp gasp of hers with his mouth. Her kisses did betray her lack of experience, but something about this awkward embrace made him shudder in anticipation. It was her naked, open want, he decided, her straightforwardness, the enthusiasm she brought to exploring his reactions and the slightly hesitant responses to his own touch. "Its okay," he mumbled when his lips had latched on a nipple, through the wet, threadbare cotton of her shirt, when his fingers found the fabric of her panties just as damp, and she bit back a sudden grunt. "Let me hear you, Brienne. Hell, lets give the infomercial lady a run for her money." Her shaky laugh quickly turned into a groan as he tugged down her underwear and tested how shed react to one probing finger. Even while she bucked his hips against his hand, the mattress creaking under the weight of her body, she shook her head. "Not yet, please. I mean, not more." She let out the last word in a drawn-out moan. Jaime smirked, although she couldnt see it. "Having fun yet?" He twisted his finger, and her reply a squeaky "yes" should have amused him or stroked his ever grateful ego. The unexpected tenderness that welled up in his chest at how young she sounded was a complete suckerpunch. Before he could blurt out anything downright stupid, Brienne also took him by surprise, turning them both over, careful not to jostle his injured arm too much. Her muscular legs were holding him down, and she was simply kissing him, over and over, straddling his thighs, letting the tip of his cock brush her wet cunt every once in a while, briefly grinding herself against his boxers. "Please," he gasped when she came up for air, "please, Brienne. If you wont fuck me, use your hand. Just do something." She paused long enough to help him shove the shorts down to his knees. "Is your arm hurting?" Brienne asked, her honest concern an out-of-place echo of her earlier question. Jaime laughed. "Believe me, its not my arm thats bothering me right now." He wished that thered be enough light to watch her roll her eyes in that familiar grimace which furrowed her brows and scrunched her freckled nose. Then his cock slid between her thighs, and he didnt wish for anything else anymore when Brienne suddenly froze. "Everything all right?" he asked in a strangled voice. "Protection," she muttered. "I got something in my bag."

Jaime was about to make some worn-out joke about her being a good girl scout, always prepared. (Of course she would carry condoms in her purse. Just like she never forgot to buckle her seat belt and kept her service weapon immaculately clean.) But the worn-out words died on his lips as she grabbed his hand that was reaching for the light switch. "No no lights," Brienne hissed, and the same strange tenderness rose in his throat again. "Cmere," he whispered while she felt her way to the heap of luggage in the corner and back to the bed again, a broad silhouette against the porch light. "Brienne." He could almost taste the syllables of her name in his mouth, still unfamiliar in this intimacy, but it was something else he longed to taste. Sitting up to lean against the creaking headboard, Jaime grasped her hip with his left hand to press a firm kiss to the soft skin of her stomach. He could feel the way she tensed up in surprise, the breath she held for what seemed a long, long time. It escaped her lips in a soft cry when he started teasing her with his tongue. He would have laughed at the needy little noises she made, half growl, half whimper, if he hadnt felt a similar desperation. After he tugged her downwards, into his lap, it took them two condoms and three tries to get the fucking rubber on. Then she took his cock in with a roll of her hips, and he muffled his moan in the sweaty strands of her hair, lightly biting down on the muscles in her strong neck. Dimly, Jaime remembered that he wanted to make this worthwhile for her, too, so he started mentally going through all the forty-plus fucking presidents to distract himself. Absurdly, he thought that he never knew who came after Andrew Jackson, not even as the teenager whod taken US History in high school and had been badly in need of this distraction when he thought of his sister, sometimes. Of course, this woman wasnt Cersei this was Brienne his partner, who kissed him as though she wanted to swallow all his cynical smart-ass jokes and all his craven lies his partner, who was stupid and stubborn enough to believe in Sansa Starks survival, to believe in him, in them, whatever they were his partner, who dragged his fingers over her clit and had his name on her lips Brienne Brienne Brienne He gave up all semblance of self-control and thrust up hard, again and yet again, until he could barely remember his own name or the reason why theyd ended up in that god-forsaken motel. It was probably just his orgasm talking, but perhaps hed indeed found something here, on a shabby mattress in the middle of nowhere, in the circle of his trembling arms, something that might be worth it after all.

End Notes

Originally written for an ASOIAF Kink Meme prompt in May 2012. Has been posted here before. Title from the lyrics to Mary Gauthier's wonderful song "Camelot Motel".

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