Acquiescence

Chapter Thirty-Two

Acquiescence

The Umbers' Clydesdales lined the top of the hill pawing at the snow and snorting their urgency to proceed where their riders had halted to survey the scene below. All eyes were narrowed by the midday sun's reflection deflecting off the pristine freshly fallen blanket of white that covered the once bloodied battle field. It looked almost peaceful and unscathed outside of the remnants of large charred pyres and a surmountable body count of enemy and ally alike set in a row with a foot here and a beard there protruding from their snowy layers due to the bitter wind that blew across the expanse.

Matina glowered bitterly at Lumor stating with a growing frustration, "That sow thinks she's better than us! We could have cut down the trickle of waste their house has become right then and there for daring show us that kind of disrespect!"

Lamor never deigned to glance over at his sister seemingly lost in thought, but after a moment of silence he responded dryly, "It's not time yet to act. Dispatching the Starks is a price that we can't afford to pay. They have enough houses backing them now to form a formidable alliance, and to murder them in the wake of a parlay would be bad form."

"Bad form?" Matina stated chuckling incredulously as a deepening scowl formed upon her face, "Since when have you given a damn about bad form, Lamor?"

Matina's statement was enough to engage Lamor, and his head swiveled to face her with an aura of contempt rearing out of her reply, "SmallJon is dead. I have to take his place as eldest in line to succession of our house. These are not worries that 'you' will ever need face, but do remember some of us still bear the weight of our family's honor."

Lamor's words were intended to scathe, and Matina bared her teeth angrily in challenge, "Aye, you lead us right and proper, Lamor. I'm standing by watching you make a right cunt of us, and I'm sick to the gills to see it. I don't rightly give two shits if you want to play some long game with the Starks, but I do want to know what the fuck you plan to do to make it up to our people. In case you forget, our people are the ones that serve us and that really matter over defector Wildling sympathizers. Whatever airs you're putting on and game you're playing at isn't going to hold water if you don't have an answer to the shit storm you just waded through."

Lamor's lips pursed in agitation knowing Matina was right but not willing to state as much just to give her the benefit of the doubt. Instead, Lamor countered, "It's not your problem. Leave matters of import to me. Don't think I didn't observe the exchange you had with Lady Stark; I see what you're really getting at. It's not so simple as getting your blade wet over a little debate where you feel slighted, so for once in your damn life take a step back and let your betters assess the damage."

Matina's eyes narrowed hatefully at Lamor, but she didn't respond. When Lamor had made up his mind, he wasn't going to budge (even if he was plainly in the wrong.) This was an intercourse the two had shared since Matina was old enough to speak. Lamor always thought he was meant to be in charge, and now that he was given the reigns, it was obvious that he would argue against her no matter her stance on the matter. Matina was sure that with SmallJon expiring, Lamor had all kinds of ideas on the manner of how house Umber should be led, but she knew better. Let Lamor play at court; there was always two ways to skin a dog after all. That bitch; Sansa wasn't going to speak to her in such a way without consequence of that much Matina planned to ensure.

Throughout this exchange, Jareth just listened on with clear amusement, and when Matina pulled her horse back and heatedly rode back up the hill in an obvious huff, he drew his horse over to sidle next to Lamor watching her go with a small cuckle, "Well you sure stirred up a hornet's nest there!"

Lamor's expression flattened, "She'll get over it. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Matina had not gotten over it, and with the fresh sting of Lamor's words etched in her mind, she galloped straight over to the maester who handled their messenger crows. She stopped short in front of the elderly man announcing brusquely, "You there! I have use of you!"

Blinking and wobbling to stand from the wagon he had been sitting in, the maester stood at attention to answer the call of his mistress, " What is it you need of me my lady?"

Matina straightened pausing as a cruel grin grew upon her face, "Maester, I have an urgent message that needs be sent to Moat Cailin. I wish for you to scribe word that we will gladly accept Lord Baelish's offer."

***…***

Ramsay and Sansa laid together in the same way for close to half an hour with Ramsay resting in the crook of Sansa's arm, his head upon her chest as Sansa's fingers lightly moved soothingly through his hair. Ramsay had brought his arm to hook around her ribcage after having drifted further down her waist only to have the phallus Sansa still wore remind Ramsay what she had planned for him. Ramsay's insides twisted as his eyes closed tightly to think on this act, and even though he was not currently internally sore, the sensations were well remembered like a spike of ice lancing open his memories in the horrific way that one feels most acutely in an exaggerated sense the past pains delivered upon them. Just the realization that their night was moving to this encounter had Ramsay on edge with dread, but the continued soft caresses over time allowed this fear to begin to fade into a complacence where his mind pushed all thoughts of enduring Sansa in that way away to just take in what he was currently experiencing.

He needed this gentle touch more than he had before, and every stroke she delivered let Ramsay sink further into himself. Throughout the time Sansa held him, Ramsay's tears would dry and renew as he went through a myriad of emotions trying to understand what was happening within him internally. Ramsay allowed himself to cry with her, Sansa was his sanctuary, and whereas this regression made Ramsay reel with a personal loathing, it was also giving him an intimate release to a side of himself that he'd buried so far down inside that he found it unrecognizable to be faced with its presence now.

Sansa listened to Ramsay's rhythmic breathing feeling on occasion the place where his face rested became damp with the tears he shed trailing down the curvature of her breast to disappear along the length of his arm that now limply held her. Ramsay did not quake or tremor nor did he mewl in despair his misery; the only indication given that he was still crying was the wetness left in the wake of Ramsay's tears and the intermittent small sniffs that exuded from his form while they lay together in the stillness of the room. Throughout, Sansa stared at the mantle transfixed by the flickering flames weeping candle wax in slow methodical drops; she compared the sight inwardly to the spilt tears she felt on her breast. Sansa said nothing more to Ramsay as an understanding blossomed that Ramsay needed to work this out for himself became clear; what Ramsay really required from her was to know that she was there with him as a shoulder to help him carry his burden. Sansa would stalwartly be that for Ramsay even though she wanted badly to probe him on the whys he would still feel so troubled. She desperately feared this reaction in Ramsay was from what she had done to him leading to a critical emotional break.

Sansa was partially right, but not for the same reasons she assumed. Grief, sorrow, fear, these were emotions that Ramsay had worked so hard to compress and hide to a point he no longer acknowledged they existed within him. It was self-medication to the pains he grew to expect in his life. No one had ever let him feel frail; his mother had drawn more distant and apathetic if he had cried, and his child mind had equated these feelings as detrimental. Heke had begged Ramsay to be strong, told him he 'had' to be strong to reach his potential and that to overcome the hurts he felt, Ramsay must vent them through lash upon his back. Roose had never said anything, but any moment that Ramsay projected such feelings, his father had shown him derision as a clear response that he needed to expel any form of weakness from the surface and become hard if he were ever to become a true Bolton.

With these lessons, Ramsay had learned to turn any fear or sadness into anger and cruelty, but Sansa had stripped that guise from him and with it the shackles that mask was built upon. Freed from these hollow expectations let a rush of reactions and sentiments to course through Ramsay unbidden, but in their wake, Ramsay was gaining a semblance to feel that he'd never allowed himself to experience before. In this way, he welcomed the tears as they represented an opened scar purging the infection of his stunted emotional growth that encompassed a new expansion to his perception. It was okay to be vulnerable, and for this too, Ramsay was thankful for Sansa's strength of will and character but mostly for her benevolence.

After a time, Ramsay did pull himself together, but he remained laying silently upon Sansa's chest a stirring of humiliation cropping within him that allowed prior uncertainties to eat at him. Ramsay chided himself assuming Sansa must think him anything but a man to be shedding tears so readily in front of her. It made his gut twist to contemplate Sansa seeing him as less than what he had always pictured himself to be; this rumination built a growing insecurity to the point it made Ramsay brave enough to lift his cheek from her bosom and timidly draw his eyes up to see exactly what expression would greet him. To Ramsay's relief, Sansa smiled brightly at his reemergence shifting her body onto her side to better take him in. Her open acceptance of him now spurred a grin to also spread across Ramsay's face.

Seeing Ramsay pull away from the bottled internal battle he'd been facing and grace her with a soft smile filled Sansa with elation. Ramsay was lucid and his eyes searched her for confirmation that they were still okay after his bout of silence and tears (as if he had anything to feel a need to rectify for feeling afraid after the damage she'd done to him.) Sansa grimaced at this thought reaching out to lightly brush her knuckles down the side of his nose clearing away the stubborn tear that had yet to dry. Her smile resurfaced quickly as Ramsay's eyes fixed her with worry. She stated softly maneuvering her hand back up across his brow and lovingly down the outlying contours of his face, "There you are; I missed you." As she said this, Ramsay's eyes turned to look down as a flush blossomed across his face coloring his cheeks and ears with his embarrassment. Ramsay liked when Sansa would touch him like this even if the reasoning of her doing so, in the act of wiping away his tears, sent waves of shame though him. Sansa's hand was gentle yet firm as she grasped his chin turning Ramsay's face back up and over to her; Ramsay didn't resist her pull letting Sansa's hand guide him back to her as he flicked his wide blue eyes back up to take her in with full attention. Sansa's smile grew as she rose from the pillow to meet Ramsay's gaze her thumb now lightly rubbing over his cheekbone.

Ramsay had lost his smile, his face flaccid and inquisitive wondering what Sansa would do next with him. Sansa's smile remained although it had diminished into a small curve that spoke of fondness as she continued to lock eyes with Ramsay inching nearer to bring their faces into a closer proximity. She leaned brushing her lips in a delicate kiss to the corner of Ramsay's eye followed by her drifting to the other side of his face to reflect the same sentiment beside his other eye. Ramsay's eye lashes fluttered in response to the tickle the sensation manifested, and an instant grin surfaced under Sansa's attentions. This reaction in Ramsay brought a beam of satisfaction to Sansa as she whispered warmly against Ramsay's ear, "I will always kiss away your tears if I can make you smile for me."

Ramsay blinked taking in her words as he brought his vision up to follow Sansa's movement. She pulled back leaving the same small intimate gap between them where they were almost touching but far enough away to take in each other's expressions. Ramsay was awestruck; Sansa always managed to leave him speechless. Ramsay deliberated over all the different aspects of Sansa that he saw appeal in; there was more than just her prettiness that was beautiful; gazing upon Sansa Ramsay had no words to describe how he felt other than to be brimming with a blissfulness that left him feeling more content than he'd ever felt in his life.

Was this love? The word love had meant so little to Ramsay, and his previous understanding of its meaning was not what he felt now. Ramsay was coming to realize he had no real idea what the word actually had stood for but he had an inkling that he might be starting to grasp that significance truly in the way taking Sansa in at this moment left him to feel. Every time he stared into Sansa's eyes, Ramsay was reminded why he had bent a knee and sworn fealty to her. Without even trying, Sansa took his breath away in a wave of prickling heat that sent the blood rushing to his face, and the world around him, around her… faded into the background like a waking dream he never wished to rise from.

Sansa's stomach fluttered seeing the adoration Ramsay poured upon her. Unable to stand the seperation any longer, her lips found his kissing lightly just to connect with him physically and then more passionately as both lost themselves to the feelings they were bursting to share. Sansa glided away from Ramsay's lips following the curvature of his chin as her hand grasped Ramsay's neck. Ramsay let his head lull to the side as Sansa's mouth trailed down his neck in frenzied husky kisses that caused Ramsay's pulse to race and his own breathing to escalate. Sansa continued to drag her lips down to Ramsay's chest as the hand supporting his neck coaxed his body to fall back upon the pillow. Once Ramsay was flat on his back, Sansa's hand left her hold on his neck drifting down Ramsay's center to lightly grasp a hold on his hip as her mouth worked its way back up to find Ramsay's lips.

Throughout their kissing, Ramsay had grown erect, and the soft flesh at the underside of Sansa's arm rocking against and over the head of his hardened member made Ramsay's body shift about eagerly. Ramsay loved the feel of Sansa, her lips, her scent, her heat, her passion; the combined sensations she put upon him were overwhelming. Ramsay's head was spinning losing orientation to her ministrations as too many sensations coalesced for him to lock onto the pleasure caused by just one. Instead Ramsay basked in the entirety of the moment whimpering his need into her hungry mouth. Sansa pulled away gasping, bosoms heaving, and lips red-raw from the ferocious manner she'd devoured Ramsay's mouth.

Ramsay panted staring up to take in the once perfect braiding of Sansa's hair where many strands had long since escaped. The locks haphazardly framed her face displaying the primal urges that had overtaken them throughout the past couple hours. A rush coursed through him watching on as Sansa's eyes roved over his body; she wanted him, and Ramsay could feel her desire descending upon him encompassing him wholly like a heavy fog. Ramsay wanted Sansa to be happy, more than anything he wanted her pleasure. Gulping back the hard lump in his throat, Ramsay knew how best to give Sansa what she wanted and found himself shakily opening his legs. Sansa noted the action and even though there were no words giving indication what Ramsay was offering her now, it was read loud and clear.

Sansa's eyes widened in surprise taken back by the gesture; she had not expected this after what had just happened. Her gaze searched Ramsay as she queried hesitantly, "Are you sure?" Ramsay grimaced as a long pause moved between them before he finally hurriedly nodded as if to speak the words would give too much acceptance to the act. His acquiescence in this way had Sansa immediately leaning forward ardently kissing Ramsay several times over as a giddiness overtook her. Beaming with excitement, Sansa quickly snatched the flask from the nightstand wanting to take advantage of Ramsay's submission more than a little afraid that if she stalled Ramsay may suddenly change his mind.

He wasn't ready for this; why did he tell her he was ready for this? Alarm bells rang in Ramsay's mind only quieted by the pure look of delight Sansa exuded upon him for confirmation that she could proceed to have him in this way. Ramsay's legs shook with trepidation, but he did his best to mask the physical representation of the apprehension he felt. He would go through with this for her because this was what Sansa wanted most from him. She didn't force herself on him as she could, and this fact made it both easier and harder for Ramsay to process. If Sansa had just taken him (she had the ability and there would be nothing to prevent her from doing so if that was what she had wished) it would have taken the decision from Ramsay's hands, but Sansa made him be the deciding factor of his fate. There was a power in choice, but it was also damning to have to give consent to be penetrated by her phallus. Ramsay felt like less of a man imagining for a split second the ridicule so many would throw at him if they knew what he'd succumbed to, but this was an encounter shared with just him and Sansa, all others be damned. He would do it; he didn't have to like it, but if giving himself in this way got Sansa to climb the walls in ecstasy, it was a sacrifice Ramsay was willing to make.

Sansa never relinquished her gaze from Ramsay as she maneuvered around to sidle in between his legs. His eyes were wide and terrified, and his mouth was drawn in a tight line of apprehension. He had misgivings about what they were about to do, but Ramsay didn't pull away from her. With his head propped upon the pillow, his gaze traversed from meeting Sansa's stare down to the glass protrusion she now avidly stroked a fresh coat of the flask's substance upon it. Ramsay heaved a deep sigh closing his eyes to the scene trying to calm his nerves and make this easier on himself.

Ramsay found himself opening his eyes to the warm light caress of Sansa's other hand, it glided lovingly down his thigh petting him several times over from knee to hip. When Ramsay did finally draw his attention back to her face, Sansa smiled nervously down at him trying to give him some form of assurance but unsure if her attempts would make any impact to abate the cropping fear Ramsay exuded. This was a defining moment of how the two would proceed regarding this activity, and she would be damned if she wouldn't strike this anxiety from Ramsay if she were able. He would find some enjoyment before they concluded, Sansa would make sure of it.

Sansa bit her lip her cheeks flushing in desire to take in Ramsay spread invitingly before her. Her eyes remained locked to Ramsay's as she dipped her head slowly to his cock. Ramsay's mouth parted in surprise as Sansa began to trail soft kisses up the base of his shaft only leaning up after planting one more kiss upon the head of his penis. Sansa smiled devilishly down at him as Ramsay's member pulsed to life excitedly taking in the advances her mouth made upon him. Ramsay let out a defeated guttural groan as Sansa pulled away his brow furrowing in disappointment. Sansa's smile grew, "I take it you liked that? I plan to give you more, but first…" Sansa's hand slickened with oil brushed his balls as they dropped to the gap baring his vulnerable entrance.

Ramsay's cock immediately began to deflate, but Sansa grabbed a hold of it gripping the base tightly enough to make Ramsay gasp. Sansa began to slowly drag her hand up his shaft lessening her hold as she watched Ramsay intently. When Ramsay's muscles would stiffen, Sansa fondled him more lightly easing Ramsay's cock back to full standing. His eyes bulged and his abs rippled with every stroke Sansa delivered leaving Ramsay enraptured by the touches she graced him with. Once she had Ramsay captivated with what she was doing to his cock, Sansa proceeded to work one and then two fingers into him prodding gently until Ramsay finally stopped tensing to her ministrations. Ramsay grimaced when he felt her fingers enter him, but he concentrated on what Sansa was doing to his cock, and that helped to override the discomfort of being penetrated.

Ramsay was giving himself to her, and this gift made Sansa heady in a new way. Her insides pulsed seeing Ramsay so titillated by her attentions; Ramsay was submitting to her entering him as she'd been dreaming he would do for some time. Sansa pulled her fingers from him gliding her hand up and down her glass cock enjoying the feeling the movement tugging on her phallus generated within her; Sansa wanted nothing more than to shove its whole length into Ramsay to feel the warmth of colliding full into his hips. She knew from the pull of his insides fucking Ramsay created a pressure she'd only once indulged in; it was a sensation Sansa longed to feel again.

Ramsay involuntarily clenched before timidly relaxing as he felt the cold smooth head of Sansa's phallus bump against his entrance. "Relax, Ramsay," Sansa cooed, and Ramsay, letting out a deep breath, did his best to shut down the side of his mind that screamed vehemently in protest. Sansa continued the steady rise and fall of her hand on Ramsay's member although the distraction of her placing her own cock where she could easily enter Ramsay had him losing his erection. Sansa paused her forward momentum concentrating on his pleasure until Ramsay was once more stiff; Sansa continued to manipulate her hand in frenzied pulls that she could tell had Ramsay well riveted before easing past the rim and embedding the first inch of her cock inside.

Her hand had Ramsay's mind tossed into a flurry of enjoyment, and he barely registered the sensation of Sansa pushing into him until the phallus actually slid inside. Ramsay tensed then feeling the burn but worked to reduce the dread he felt and finally was able to relax as the pain began to ease although it did not stop feeling uncomfortable to have something so large inside of him. As promised Sansa continued to ease into Ramsay, and every time he stiffened, Sansa stopped pushing remaining motionless while still embed in Ramsay's ass and fondling his cock. The next push brought Sansa to penetrate Ramsay with her phallus halfway. Ramsay gasped in pain, and Sansa answered his dismayed call by backing out a little as she continued pumping his cock, "Is that better?" Sansa asked worriedly, and Ramsay nodded taking in ragged breaths as a response.

This process continued until Ramsay felt something else less painful and more puzzling. Sansa had almost put the entire length of her toy in him by this point, and as she manipulated deft fingers over his shaft, he'd done his best to only take in those sensations and to let the ones in his backside fall into the background. A curious thing happened then as inwardly Sansa's phallus brushed across Ramsay's prostate sending an electric jolt to course through the entirety of his body. Ramsay's eyes widened as his mouth parted in an audible moan as it happened again every thrust Sansa impaled him with. His brow furrowed in worry as the sensation continued to build. Could he actually like this? Ramsay didn't know, but it no longer felt so bad physically even if the thought of taking pleasure in such an act made a part of Ramsay inwardly cringe.

As every inch slowly slipped inside of Ramsay, his every jolt and spasm ricocheted through Sansa causing her internal muscles to squeeze the bulb and soak up the vibrations delightedly. The feelings and sights had her own juices flowing and the folds of her vulva swelling in response, and when Sansa saw the look Ramsay affixed her with, it drove a carnal side within her to thrust a little faster and deeper. She felt Ramsay then, her flesh meeting his, and he'd moaned. Ramsay hadn't told her to stop, and instead seemed to be twitching in time with her thrusts. This revelation has Sansa pulsing to both the inner sensations of the suction and pull shared between their merging bodies and the inner euphoria that she was tapping into something Ramsay's own body was reacting too. She was leaning over him now catching every delicious little whimper and groan that escaped Ramsay's throat.

The sounds he made now had raised an octave, and Ramsay's eyes stared at her with an edging desperation as he fought back the want to cum like this. He didn't want this, but it was too late. Ramsay couldn't stop the urges that brokered no resistance, and he cried out as his semen sprayed across Sansa's rapidly pumping fist and onto his stomach. His insides rippled from his climax throbbing around Sansa's glass cock and intensifying the orgasm rocking through him tenfold.

Seeing Ramsay buck about and cum for her was all Sansa needed to push her over the edge to thrust in and out riding Ramsay's own orgasm until she felt her own release shortly after his. She keened a shrill moan as she pressed herself fully in grabbing Ramsay's hips tightly as she gyrated out the last ebbing pulses heaving from the exertion and letting herself collapse on to Ramsay's chest. They were both panting heavily from the endeavor. Ramsay wiggled uncomfortably under Sansa as she had yet to pull out of him; he hoped his movements would be enough to cue her in to the fact, but instead, Sansa took the movement to mean Ramsay was ready for another go. Sansa certainly was, and she began working in and out of Ramsay clutching him tightly to her as her hips thrusted her rebuilding desire for a second round.