“There are no men like me. There’s only me.” —Jaime Lannister, A Clash of Kings
I am the queen , she reminded herself, I have always wanted to be the queen, and I am the queen. But repeating this to herself did not ease the pain between her legs or the aching of her breasts. When the knock came on the door as she lay in bed, their bed, alone, as she repeated to herself I am the queen, I am the queen , she hesitantly broke her self-talk to ask, “who knocks?” “Your brother, your grace.” Jaime . He must have wondered why she was not at the grand feast meant to celebrate the morning after her wedding to King Robert, a wedding Jaime had sulked about for months. “You will still be mine,” she had told him, “as a member of the Kingsguard you cannot wed, and you will always be by my side.” “But you will be his ” Jaime replied bitterly, turning away from her as they sat atop her bed at Casterly Rock. “Under the eyes of the Gods, yes” she said. “In spirit, no. I am yours and you are mine.” Jaime had looked at her like a sad puppy dog thrown out of its kennel then. But now...
Cersei rose from lying down and sat erect, her golden hair tumbling down her bare chest as she sat up. No one could dare knock on her door while she slumbered alone, nude, but Jaime … “open the door very quickly, and then come in and shut it as fast you can.”
She sat upright in bed, sunlight from the window reflecting in the green eyes that bore into his. That bed, that horrible bed. His bed. At the morning feast, he watched in disgust as King Robert sauntered into the room, a look of glee on his face as if he had conquered another battle. My sweet sister does like it rough, and she is a fighter, no one knows that better than I do. But she is not his to conquer. Cersei still did not appear after thirty minutes and Jaime could not control his jealousy. He needed to see her, to know what had happened, to know that she would always be his and not the drunken oaf’s.
Cersei cast her eyes downwards after Jaime closed the door, and smoothed her hair to make sure it fell in curtains that covered each breast. “What are you doing?” he said, trying to sound strong as he sneered, “you’ve never hesitated to cover yourself with me before, and I presume you didn’t with” he spat out the name, “ King Robert.” Cersei drew her hands away from her hair and placed them on her lap, still covered by bedsheets as she sat upright. “What do you want, Jaime?” she asked. Her voice was steely, but her gaze wavered. Jaime approached the bed and pulled off the sheets. “I want you,” he whispered in her ear.
She wanted him too, so badly, especially after the previous night, and Jaime nibbled on her ear. “Jaime,” she sighed, “oh, Jaime,” and her back sunk into the pillows. Jaime brushed her hair off her right breast and squeezed her breast, but she placed her hand over his firmly. “No. Not there.” He drew back. “What, I can’t compare to King Robert?” he said, with contempt. But as he pulled back to look at her and saw the bite mark on her breast, his jealous gaze turned to something else, something she could not identify. He pulled further back, and she slowly swept the curtain of golden waves covering her left breast onto her back, leaving her bruised chest exposed for him to see.
“I saw the wrath in your eyes as you watched him take me away from the wedding feast. He took me back here and then...he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine, and did what he did—what little he could do—and whispered in my ear, ‘Lyanna.’ I did not know whether to laugh, or slap him, or cry. Here I am, the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, and he pines for a corpse. I pushed him off of me, but he climbed atop me again, pressing down on me so hard this time, whispering her name in my ear again and again as he...mauled... my breasts, thrust himself inside me like a wild boar. Not as a king, but like a beast. Not like you. There is no other man like you,” she said, drawing her naked body closer to his body clothed in the Kingsguard white cloak and gold armor, and whispered in his ear, “only you.”
Cersei felt cleansed in Jaime’s presence, seeing her own beautiful face reflected in his green eyes. I am the queen, and my king is a fool. I am the queen of the seven kingdoms, and not the servant of Robert Baratheon . She began to unfasten Jaime’s armor while biting his ear, hard, so hard that he yelped. As the armor fell off, he slid off his robes, and she pushed him off the bed.
Lying naked on the floor, Jaime looked up to see Cersei standing naked above him like the sun, her lustrous hair falling so long it almost hit his chest, as her green eyes stared into his with a mixture of lust and power. He began to stand up to grab and kiss her, but she wrestled him to the floor, and he felt helpless with her hair rubbing against his bare chest. I am hers and she is mine, but above all I am hers. Cersei climbed atop him, smirking as she placed his already-erect member in her hand and slid it into her opening. Riding atop Jaime, she closed her eyes and looked upwards, smiling to herself in ecstasy. Jaime himself could not close his eyes or else miss any glimpse of his love’s radiant face filled with passion, passion she only felt with him inside her. He stroked the thighs that straddled his chest, and as he did so, he felt goosebumps on her fair legs. He could never give her goosebumps from pleasure. Only me. As she continued to ride atop Jaime, Cersei squeezed her legs so tightly around his chest that his chest almost ached, but any pain vanished she she swooped down to engulf him in a kiss, her hair falling all over their naked bodies as she continued to sway back and forth with him inside her. Finally, they both came in unison—they did everything in harmony—each moaning with pleasure. Cersei pulled her face from his and smiled down upon him, a smile brighter and happier than any she’d shown while being wed to Robert in the Sept of Baelor the previous day.
Cersei took in his beautiful face and kissed him again, grabbing his face as she slithered her tongue inside his mouth and pressed her breasts against her chest. They no longer hurt—they felt inflamed with passion rather than pain when upon Jaime’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her slender torso and sat up, their legs intertwined as they sat upon the lush carpet, and he stuck his cock inside her again. Her head fell backwards as she sighed, and he pushed with more skill than that wine-soaked beast could ever dream to, and pulled on her hair with his sword hand. “Harder!” she cried, and he not only thrust harder insider her but also pulled on her hair harder, moving his fingers up to the roots and pulling so hard it seemed he might pull hair out, but her yells were happy ones. Eventually he slackened, and released her golden waves from his hand as he pulled out from inside her. Her scalp pulsed from the pressure of his grip. They stared at one another in the eyes, smiled, kissed, and then smiled at one another again before she stood up and walked naked to her boudoir. “Stay close to this room always,” she said, as he approached her from behind. She took her brush from the desktop and began to brush out her lush hair. “When he comes in stinking of liquor, calm him down. Direct him to some whore. I am the queen, not his queen. I am a living girl, not a corpse, but he only roams among the dead. I care for the living, and you—” she turned around to gaze at him— “you are flesh and blood. My flesh and blood.”
She handed him the brush, and he tenderly took her blanket of gold hair into his hands, and started brushing from the bottom, as she had taught him to do when they were children. “I will stay by you always,” he said, brushing her hair and swooping down to kiss her neck, which made her laugh in delight. As the brush stroked her thick, long locks, he felt himself harden again—but no, they both had duties to attend to. There would be plenty more time for playing. Once he had thoroughly brushed out her hair, a task that took some time given its length and volume, he knelt down and spun her around in her chair. He grabbed each side of her hair around her like ropes and used them to pull her into him for a kiss, which lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe seconds, it did not matter. Because it would be only one of many to come, for the rest of their lives.