Capítulo 29: Theories of Emotion
Chapter Thirty
Theories of Emotion
Ramsay let go a small whimper as Sansa's lips burned all doubt away from him leaving his mind to reel over her final words, "Forever mine." He felt a wash of euphoria and despair to take in that statement. Ramsay wanted nothing more now than to be truly hers, but to relinquish all of who he was to her meant the utter loss of the vestiges of his former self that a part of Ramsay still subconsciously clung to. It was becoming apparent that this sacrifice was far costlier than Ramsay had originally contemplated. He wasn't just offering Sansa his fealty anymore, he was surrendering his heart.
Such a prospect had never been contemplated by Ramsay or even remotely offered to anyone before; Ramsay had decided long ago to shut down any avenues for another to touch a part of him where he could be made vulnerable; he had learned through bitter experience that to give any part of himself to anyone typically equated to pain and rejection. Solid walls were built to fortify against cracks that would reveal his personal failings to others and himself, but Sansa had upset the scales of balance breaking the veil and veneer he'd meticulously placed and ultimately throwing Ramsay into a tumultuous sea of mystification by every choice with him that she elected to take.
Sansa made Ramsay feel needy and weak, but at the same time what she gave him in return fulfilled a yearning that Ramsay had never dreamed could be tapped into let alone offered to him. These unbidden emotions left Ramsay to feel tattered and frail like a rent flag on a battle field waiting to be claimed. And claimed Ramsay was ready to be folding to Sansa's affections to demurely collapse into the waters before her and bask in the kisses she trailed down his chin and along the length of his neck.
Electrified by Sansa's handling, Ramsay found his eyes closing as she pulled his body possessively to her. Remotely, Ramsay wondered what this sudden sensual aggressiveness would manifest into, but another part of him found it hard to care as long as she kept pouring this level of passion onto him. Igniting to her ministrations like dry leaves in a raging fire, Ramsay did not question that he was wholly hers now, Sansa Stark's captivated lover and willing prisoner.
Sansa held all power over him, and she could do as she willed regardless of his own wants and desires, much as Ramsay had done with Theon. Ramsay was more than thankful Sansa held far more compassion for him than he had ever spared the wretched Iron Borne prince. He knew Sansa cared for him now, yet one of the biggest hurdles Ramsay still tackled was learning to let go of his cropping fear that Sansa would one day reject and replace him. It was even harder for Ramsay to learn to trust that she no longer wished to 'harm' him even though she easily proclaimed that she would still physically punish him for any perceived transgression. Ramsay's thoughts lingered momentarily on that ugly business of vowed corporal punishment still to come and frowned. Much to his chagrin, Ramsay was begrudgingly becoming all too well indoctrinated to facing and acquiescing to such humiliations. His life could become far less complicated, Ramsay knew, if he could just avoid finding himself in such uncomfortably painful predicaments by accepting Sansa's relationship terms, (and learning to control his temper!)
Ramsay sighed placing these musings to the back of his mind to avoid ruminating on them further. That was an inevitable future to dwell on later, but for now, he preferred to surrender to the pleasure of Sansa guiding him backwards across the expanse of the bathtub with hungry kisses. Ramsay collided powerfully into the headboard with a grunt settling against it while Sansa's lips pulsed in a tight suction at the base of his neck and collarbone. Ramsay's eyes fluttered upward as he groaned to the sensation of her soft mouth latching to his skin. Sansa pulled away with an audible snap, and Ramsay peered down with a smirk to see the mark she'd left upon him in the shape of a circular bruise. Sansa's lips were flush and swollen from her efforts, and her stare levied a demand on him that Ramsay wasn't sure he could fulfill, but he was more than willing to try.
Grinning playfully down at Ramsay, Sansa stated, "I best get to washing you, the water is already taking in the chill of winter no matter how our desires heat it." This comment brought a beaming smile to Ramsay's face as he rested each arm upon the tub's frame returning her comment with a cocky grin, "There will always be plenty of heat to give no matter where we deign to lie, my lady, but I will say the thought of you tending to me again is a most pleasant one."
Sansa's eyebrow lifted and the corner of her mouth curved upward as she regarded Ramsay with a brazen smile, "I dare say let me attend you then, dear husband." Every time Sansa referred to him as her husband now served to make Ramsay's chest swell with pride. The fact that Sansa acknowledged their marriage at all left a hope to burn within Ramsay that this relationship they were forming could one day evolve back into what he saw was a true marriage shared between a man and woman (or as far as Ramsay had always known a traditional marriage to be.) Although, Ramsay would keep such musings of a want to be a more conventional couple to himself now for fear of upsetting Sansa again as he had with his earlier proclamations on how he perceived their relationship should proceed.
There wasn't a day that went by now where Ramsay didn't wish he had originally respected Sansa from the onset. Instead, he was left to regretfully ponder the foregone relationship they could be enjoying in lieu of the one they now carefully stitched and mended (even though a large part of Ramsay knew everything that they were and had become was a culmination of their past and present. The road their paths had lead them could no more be altered in its given course than that of the sun following the moon.) With no other presentable option, Ramsay had made the finite choice to be content to just enjoy the part of herself Sansa gave until she was willing to offer him more. It hadn't taken Ramsay long to decide that Sansa was more than worth waiting for.
Ramsay groaned as Sansa silently moved into action dipping her fingers into the salt scrub and working the substance gently into Ramsay's flesh except Sansa was speedier with the process working to fulfill the task quickly as the bath waters cooled. She still spent extra time upon his genitals (especially his entrance to which Ramsay uncomfortably squirmed with a grimace doing his best to stay in place and hoping that Sansa did not wish to penetrate him again here and now.) Sansa seemed more interested in actually preforming the required need of cleansing Ramsay over sexually fondling him (much to Ramsay's disappointment when it came to his cock) although Ramsay did note that Sansa grabbed and stroked his half-mast member confidently without any hesitation; this boldness to touch his sex (even if just to clean him there) was a further elation for Ramsay especially after Sansa's most recent statement regarding him ever entering her again.
The bath was rapidly losing heat, and by the time Sansa had finished Ramsay was more than happy she had decided to be abrupt rather than to take her time washing him as she'd done the first bath she'd given him in the dungeon. It was still enjoyable to feel her hands gliding over him as she'd worked the mixture into his skin. The salt scrub was perfumed with crushed petals of flowers, and having the flowery concoction being applied to him, Ramsay was reminded of Heke and his absurd crown of posies he wore religiously. Ramsay's nose curled at the imagery and forgotten memory of the stench Heke… his first Reek, had tried to mask with the floral display. Mixed with the repellant memory of the man's stink, some small part of Ramsay felt a sudden pang of loss knowing that man, who had been the closest person to him throughout a large portion of his life, was no more.
Sansa's hands continued to caress the tincture into Ramsay's neck and shoulders pulling Ramsay away from the headboard to sweep long massaging strokes up and down his back. Her breasts heaved inches from his face and occasionally brushed across his nose as she reached around him which drew Ramsay's attention fully back on her. Every time her soft mounds or any part of her body pressed against his, Ramsay found himself inhaling deeply. The flowery scent that had mildly repulsed Ramsay and remind him of Heke was largely overpowered to be forged into a much-improved memory by Sansa. The fleeting thought came to Ramsay then that Sansa was making him smell like her, and where that may have annoyed Ramsay to smell like a woman in most any other circumstance, he now welcomed the likeness this represented as a further bonding to become one with her.
By the time Sansa had sponged Ramsay clean of the salt scrub, they were both beginning to shiver. Sansa stated in amusement, "I think we've expended the pleasantness this bath has to offer us; Come, I will get you a towel." Climbing from the bath, Sansa swiftly grabbed one of the many thick towels to wrap herself in before bringing another for Ramsay who stood from the tub and followed suit. Sansa's gaze trailed back to watch Ramsay coiling the large towel about his small frame as he hopped out of the tub quivering and rubbing his limbs fiercely to stave off the damp cold.
Sansa dried herself watching Ramsay with a growing smile as she examined that the entirety of the towel covered Ramsay from neck to ankle as he wrapped it around himself and waddled towards her. She didn't know why, but the fact that he was so diminutive compared to her own stature turned her on; Sansa supposed it was because Ramsay's light weight and smaller size made him more susceptible to being snatched up and physically taken by her. Sansa had daydreamed immensely on her long journey home a myriad of aggressively dark fantasies that played out internally to the tune of claiming Ramsay savagely in ways that she would no longer enact but that the mental imageries of still made Sansa's clit pulse to life just to think on.) The thought of Ramsay splayed on her bed, vulnerably open to her, and willingly allowing her to enter him, had Sansa more than a little excited. She would have Ramsay in such a capacity very soon (even if he was not wanting of this now, Ramsay would still offer himself to her without resisting her demand of him, and that in itself had Sansa heady and her sex swelling in further desire.) Sansa mused that with Ramsay's recent agreeable attitude, it was only a matter of time before she would get him to like what she did to him.
Ramsay beamed inwardly feeling quite blissful to see the way Sansa regarded him with an amused smile spreading across her face. He read her grin as a want of him here and now, to be with her, together as they were. Sansa had stated that she wished to have him touch her once they'd finished bathing, and Ramsay's mind had already lustfully turned to the thought of that coming event. He would bring Sansa to climax and prove that he was a multifaceted lover when she gave him the chance; perhaps an impressive delivery would leave Sansa more willing to try other things… Ramsay could only hope.
As Ramsay approached, Sansa adjusted her towel to her like a clasped cape draping from her shoulders, so she could offer her other hand out to Ramsay. Ramsay's eyes first shot to her nakedness uncovered by this gesture before taking in her proffered hand. He shifted his own towel to wrap about his shoulders glancing at the serene expression Sansa afforded him before returning his gaze back to her hand. Without further hesitation, Ramsay put his hand in hers, and his smile broadened to feel the strength of her hand clasping his in a tender squeeze. A profound wave of contentment teemed within Ramsay then as Sansa gracefully led them back to her bed holding his hand all the while.
They padded back across the room, and the noonday sun's rays refracted from the window to accent the highlights in Sansa's hair lighting her pale skin with a luminous glow that gave her an almost divine aura. Ramsay examined this effect with childish wonderment as Sansa continued to guide him over to the bed hanging her towel on the bed's frame, lifting the covers, and glancing back at Ramsay with a smirk that held her obvious avarice for what was to come. She wasted no time climbing onto the bed and giving Ramsay's hand a light yank to send him stumbling in behind her. The two quickly pulled the covers up and over their shoulders as they simultaneously folded into a semi fetal ball to shake off the accosting winter chill drafting in through the open window. They huddled closely within the confines of their tightly wrapped blankets, the heat of their bodies generating an encompassing warmth that dispelled their tremors until both lay still, face to face, just staring into the other's eyes.
Ramsay wanted to kiss her, but the boundaries that separated them made him feel hesitant to act. Would she welcome the advance, or would it anger her? She wanted to be the one to respond first Ramsay had learned early on, but was that still the case now? Sansa seemed most pleased when he let her take the initiative, so Ramsay stayed where he was taking in her calm expression and wondering if he should speak. Sansa broke the stillness with a feathery touch that delicately found Ramsay's hand under the sheets. Her hand wrapped fully around his wrist as she used this placement to shift her body closer aligning his hand with her mound while placing the rest of her body closely to his where Sansa's arm circled Ramsay's head and her breasts lay on his pillow.
Her fingers playfully curled into the tufts of hair at the back of Ramsay's neck, and Sansa moistened at the vibration of want Ramsay's throat readily emitted to her touch. She felt him nuzzle further into her to close the gap between them, and the gesture was so submissive in nature that she found herself leaning down to softly kiss Ramsay's temple as she whispered with assurance, "I could lay like this with you until the sun sank behind the trees. Never would I have imagined this day would come, Ramsay, but I would not forsake it for the world."
Ramsay did not answer, but what she said to him reverberated to his core and in response, he laid a gentle kiss in the hallow between her breasts. This kiss was not the passion-filled kiss, hungry with need, that Sansa had felt upon her back within the confines of the bath they'd just shared; this kiss was light and careful, timidly placed with a sensitivity not shared in lust and not easily given. This kiss was tender and placed upon her with a sentimentality that spoke of a reflection to what one holds most precious. If ever love could be felt between two people, the sense of it enveloped Sansa now as the hand that still absently grasped Ramsay's wrist slid up his arm, over and behind his shoulder, and settled in the middle of his back to pull Ramsay into a tight embrace reciprocating the affection he'd shown her.
It was blissful torture to have her and not have her Ramsay ruminated as his senses took in Sansa stroking his back with languid sweeps of her fingertips that sent goosebumps to trail through the entirety of his body. The sensation reminded Ramsay of the way lightning streaked across the sky to spread it's current in a fanning array leaving a crackling ozone to fill the air that felt both exciting and dangerous all at the same time. Ramsay drifted away from the warmth of her bosom laying his head back onto the pillow to rest in the crook of Sansa's arm. His gaze drifted up to hers taking in that serene half-lidded contentment of pleasure Sansa exuded. Ramsay just stared into Sansa's eyes searching for what exactly he wasn't sure; he needed to see the truth of her statement spoken in a way that only locking eyes could honestly declare.
Ramsay was more terrified contemplating the repercussions of letting Sansa into his heart than any harried situation or battle he'd taken part in. It was peril to open himself to Sansa like he was; to become vulnerable and ready to be stripped bare emotionally. He was giving Sansa power over him, entrusting his heart to her knowing that she could tear him to shreds at a whim. He was afraid, but Ramsay didn't doubt Sansa's fondness for him or her word, and to know that the feelings he had been cultivating for her, Sansa was tending like that of a secret garden only made his feelings for her flourish further.
Sansa took in Ramsay's expression feeling the weight of it more now than she ever had before. She had been curious when Ramsay had seemingly melted to the compassion she'd granted him in the dungeon so long ago. It was the first and only time she'd used her glass cock and rode Ramsay to climax, and Sansa had done so without care for the misery such an act heaped upon him. She'd been cruel to Ramsay beyond measure, and Ramsay had agonized all that Sansa had put him through each day progressively fracturing under the pressure like an egg left to boil too long. Sansa had known it then, she could have snapped Ramsay's mind like a twig and broken him beyond repair. Ramsay had already been balancing tenuously on a delicate strand that held his sanity on the brink of becoming that of what he himself had turned Theon Greyjoy into, a pitiful creature that was but a shell of the man he'd once encompassed.
Sansa could have thrown Ramsay into that mental dark hole and buried him into obscurity making him live out the rest of his days cowering at her feet in fear of what awful torments she would have done to him if he chose to disobey. Instead she had chosen a different path, to be kind. Sansa wasn't heartless, and Ramsay's sorrow had guilted her to reach out and comfort him. From that moment on, nothing had been clear and controlled like she pretended it was. Sansa had fooled everyone else to believe that she was taming the beast of Bolton, but in truth Ramsay was just as much dousing the raging fires within her. Gone was her embittered hate for him replaced by a lightheadedness that made her entire body tingle to see Ramsay staring up at her the way he did now. Sansa's hand glided out of the blankets to cup Ramsay's face lovingly before leaning down to kiss him gently on first his forehead and then his mouth all the while caressing his jaw with the undercurve of her hand enjoying the smooth texture of his freshly shaven chin. Her smile broadened to see Ramsay's eyes still stared at her as if awestruck. Sansa chuckled softly "Have I lost you, Ramsay? You look as though you're adrift having imbibed too much milk of the poppy."
"Why?" It was a simple question that tumbled weakly from Ramsay's lips, and Sansa's brow furrowed, "Why? I don't understand." Ramsay gulped feeling his face grow numb at the prospect of the answer Sansa may give him, but if he were to fully commit himself, he had to know rather than guess how Sansa felt about him, "Why… after all that I've done to you… why do you care for me now?"
Sansa's smile faltered as she considered Ramsay's statement. She took in a deep breath choosing her words carefully, "It's complicated… like everything between us. I hated the man you were, loathed him actually, but that's not the man I'm sharing my bed with now; is it?" Her eyes flicked to his denoting her seriousness and that she'd pushed the topic back to him with an expectancy that demanded that Ramsay had dove into deeper waters and that he'd better be prepared to ride the current by breeching the topic at all.
Ramsay's stomach lurched having to question himself on her behalf momentarily, was he still that man? There was no denying that not all of who he had been was completely gone; he was displaced from that man though and held nowhere near the same perspective he once did. To look back to the beginning of where he and Sansa had started their venture, Ramsay could attest that he most definitely was not that same man and never wanted to be again. He shook his head, "I'm not."
Smiling once more, Sansa ran her fingers through Ramsay's wild unkempt hair that had cropped into a messy tangle around his face. She watched as his bangs sprang forward once more too unruly to heed the direction she stroked them where the rest of his hair she smoothed back behind Ramsay's ear further highlighting his prominent jaw. Ramsay's eyes studied Sansa throughout as she did this focusing on her penetrating gaze as she brought their faces closer to speak in faint tones as Ramsay listened raptly, "I know you're not that man anymore, and that has allowed me to care for the man you're becoming, Ramsay. Some would say that death would be the only score you could settle, but that's not true, not to me anyway, and fate has given you to me, not them. There's more for you to learn and discover, and I promise that I will do my best to guide you to keep you from ever becoming that man again. Although, this not a promise I can keep without your willing participation."
Ramsay blinked absorbing her avowal and nodding along as if Sansa needed his affirmation that he would indeed participate before stating, "You have my word…" his eyes fell away and a small grimace formed on his lips realizing the foolishness of his testament when the worth of his word had been already proclaimed meaningless by so many now. His jaw tightened at this thought before his eyes found Sansa's again, and Ramsay amended, "I know you have no reason to take stock in what I tell you," his throat bobbed swallowing hard as he continued, "…but I will try to be the man you wish me to be, and I will do my best not to fail you." Ramsay's expression denoted worry, he lacked confidence in himself to perform this measure to her standards, but he was offering Sansa as honestly as he could that he would give her his best efforts.
Her face brightened at this admission as Sansa truly did believe Ramsay intended to seek to please her in this way. She did not expect perfection, but Ramsay was willing to earnestly try, and that was good enough for her. Leaning down, Sansa gently kissed Ramsay in response; her lips lingering on Ramsay's mouth drawing away slightly to hover over him. Their gaze met, eyes dancing over each other, before Sansa placed her mouth back greedily atop Ramsay's lips once more inhaling deeply every time their lips reunited, the intensity increasing until both were panting from the effort.
Mouths parting now, the tips of their tongues reached to touch exploratively. This sort of exploration was new for Sansa, and where she'd seen less than civil couples making spectacles of themselves with tongues lolling in and out of each other's mouths when her mother had taken her on journeys though Winter Town for odds and ends, where that scene had utterly repulsed her, the want to claim Ramsay's mouth in such a way now seemed natural. Sansa didn't proceed in the vulgar fashion she'd witnessed of those putting on a show for all to see; she simply darted her tongue lightly across the inside of Ramsay's upper lip, and sensing her desire for access, Ramsay had parted his own lips readily for her. Sansa moaned lustfully bracing her hand to cup Ramsay's jaw as her fingers threaded around Ramsay's ear possessively. She aggressively collided back into his mouth rolling to lay partially on top of Ramsay whose hand had been kneading into the sheets where she'd pinned it under her earlier. Sansa crushed her pelvis down upon Ramsay's knuckles dragging her sex across him to stimulate her swelling clit as she growled out, "Touch me, Ramsay."
Ramsay whimpered into Sansa's mouth his yearning as he quickly twisted his own body back to face her maneuvering his hand to glide up and down her mound feeling out Sansa's sex as his own erection pressed painfully against her thigh. Sansa didn't stop kissing Ramsay as his fingers tentatively searched the swell of her womanhood letting go a moan to take in how very wet she was. This discovery only made his penis throb its' want for her all the more. Ramsay's fingers pressed against Sansa's folds rocking in a sweeping motion to work his way into her inner sanctum when the hand attached to the arm coiled around Ramsay's head gripped domineeringly to the back of his scalp almost painfully. Ramsay's breath hitched a gasp against her mouth eyes flaring open to take Sansa's expression in as she heaved, "I don't want your fingers piercing me. Rub that place your tongue so easily finds."
Changing tactics to better please her, Ramsay drew his hand up a little continuing to pet her sex as her body gyrated its excitement against him. It was hard to tell what he was looking for with just his hand as his tongue was able to feel the subtleties of her sex more easily, but Ramsay concentrated his efforts feeling out with light strokes of his middle finger what provoked a reaction in Sansa. Ramsay had always been rather attuned to sensing the minute movements his ministrations afforded in another. Of course, Ramsay had always been seeking someone's pain over their pleasure prior, but the body responded much in the same way to given extreme stimulation. He rather liked causing Sansa to jerk about like this against him; it was far better than the struggles or detached acceptance Ramsay had become accustomed to in the short time the two had shared a bed where her body was mashed against him and he had been dominating her. She had never groaned in pleasure as he was getting her to do now; Ramsay had found that sweet spot stroking it fervently now as Sansa drifted away from his lips with brow contorting in concentration.
Her hand still clutched a handful of Ramsay's hair tightly obviously enjoying the hold she kept on him as her other arm wrapped around to seize the muscle between his neck and shoulder cinching her fingers into him with a vice-like grip. Sansa rocked against Ramsay's hand in her growing need to climax, and the closer Sansa came to orgasming the tauter her body coiled until she was rigidly grinding into Ramsay. Her eyes shot open then as her clit pulsed its release across his dexterous fingers, and Sansa cried out her ecstasy as her body tensed reflexively pulling Ramsay against her. Sansa panted to catch her breath shuddering against him as Ramsay's hand slipped away from her sex to lightly lay upon her hip. Sansa's heart pounded in her chest and resounded through her head as they lay ear to ear, and her orgasm ceded away.
Ramsay's voice echoed through her with a soft timber, "I take it you liked my hand as well as you liked my tongue, my lady. Did I satisfy your curiosity?" There was a hint of mirth Sansa detected in Ramsay's words; he was obviously rather proud of himself to have done so well.
Sansa smiled broadly still glowing from the shared experience as she pulled away enough to be able to see Ramsay's face and fix him with a lopsided grin and a lifted brow, "Satisfy my curiosity?" Sansa lifted her chin to the sky as if genuinely pondering Ramsay's question before stating in a deflated sigh belied by the grin she still sported, "Not for some time I'm afraid. I think it may take many, many undertakings on your part to ensure you discover how best you can please me before my curiosity could be sated. But I have to warn, I'm quite the curious person, so you may never reach this goal you seek."
Ramsay smirked regarding Sansa with mock seriousness, "Is that so, dear wife? Well, I had best take notes then, as you, lady Sansa, are turning into a very complicated woman to please." Sansa chuckled at the airs Ramsay played with as she loosened her hold from around him closing in to kiss him quickly before shifting over to give them both room to get comfortable on the bed. Ramsay frowned as she pulled away wanting to cum again himself after witnessing and feeling Sansa climax to his efforts. He knew better than to push, but he subtlety rolled closer to let his hard member brush against Sansa as a cue that he was still horny. Sansa lay on the bed beaming over at Ramsay, she was still more than ready to cum again too, and now that they both had been warmed up to release their initial sexual tensions, it was time to take this encounter to the next level.
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