𝔞 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱 ⁽ᵃᵖ⁾

Damon’s lashes flutter as he grins, and the laugh that gets lodged in his throat turns into a groan. “Yes..” At the sound of that magic word on Ramsay’s lips – Damon GIVES. He grabs his hips and moves, feeling the pressure build inside him and heat rising at the back of his neck.

His fingers tighten in Ramsay’s hair to keep his eyes on him. “Because you’re taking my cock so fucking good.. Because you belong to me.” 

Gods, he’s so fucking close. “..Because you said ‘please’ – you can come.”

     It’s sweet relief, when Damon moves, and it’s torture, for it hurts so much and he still hasn’t been granted permission–

     (and why he’s waiting he’s not entirely sure)

     And he looks back, holding Damon’s eyes even as he brushes that spot inside him once again, even as the obscenity of his praise reaches inside him and coils around his viscera–

“Oh fuck..”

He pulls Ramsay back against him so he can finally kiss him, finally taste what’s his. When he comes, his whole body shudders -- moaning a string of obscenities in a language he barely even KNOWS into Ramsay’s mouth.

Damon’s fingers dig into his hips until the convulsions subside, and he’s kissing Ramsay slow and deep, muttering praises against his lips. “You did so good for me.” The kiss makes it personal. Makes it matter. A luxury he’s so often denied. 

❤  - kiss my muse on the (specify area)

✂ - backhand my muse across the face

✉ - confess a secret to my muse (specify secret!)

Δ  - point a weapon at my muse

☮ - interact with my muse’s pet

♔ - tell my muse to (sit/kneel/lie down/etc)

★ - praise my muse for a recent accomplishment or action

☀ - ask my muse to stay the night

☂ - pull my muse indoors, out of the rain/snow/storm

Two great bloodhounds at Damon’s side began barking as a small figure entered the room and ducked behind him. Their master hushed them calmly, and the beasts went silent obediently.

He turned and saw Theon clutching at his tunic, shaking. He signaled for the dogs to lie down as he closed the door, locking it, before turning his attention to the trembling shell of a man.

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, calmly. “Are you alright?” It was a foolish question. Of course he wasn’t alright. Neither was he. Damon bit his tongue at his choice of words. “..Are you hurt?”

The barking of dogs didn’t frighten him anymore. Sleeping in the kennels had meant he’d gotten quite accustomed to the sound. Still, he gripped tightly at the other man’s clothes, eyes wide and as timid as ever. 

Lips trembled as Reek tried to will himself to speak, but no words seemed to come. Instead, he coughed into his sleeve, crimson fluid soon enough staining the already worn and dirty fabric. That should have answered the man’s question well enough. 

He gently tilted Reek’s head back to have a look at his bloody mouth. He felt guilt tug at his insides and worm its way under his skin. Perhaps there was a little rage somewhere in that parasitic feeling too. Smoldering coals in his gut.

Damon feels his skin prickle. Such a defiant, powerful creature at his mercy. Gods, he wants to come.. But not yet. “’Yes,’ what?”

His grin is devious. He bites his lip – a sharp bit pf pain to distract him as he encourages Ramsay with a single, tooslow push and pull of his hips. He’s desperate to coax those words from Ramsay’s lips, knows they’re right there on his tongue, and if he kissed him he could taste them. Sweet and BITTER.

So close.. “If you want to come, say it. Ask me for it.”

“Just–yes–” he grits out, and he nearly sobs at the motion, for it’s nearly enough but not quite…everything hurts, hurts like an exposed wire, and the pressure is unbearable now. He wants more, he wants it to end, wants it never to end.

He’s all but crying in frustration, because his pride won’t let him beg, and he turns his head to look imploringly over his shoulder, rocking back just a little, desperate for something. He could come untouched, he knows it, knows if Damon gives him just a little more…

His fingers tighten in Ramsay’s hair to keep his eyes on him. “Because you’re taking my cock so fucking good.. Because you belong to me.” 

tAll of these prompts are related to injury, blood, gore, fatal wounding, etc, so if any of that squicks you, please keep scrolling

Damon’s laugh is hoarse. “Are you close?” But he already knows the answer. He can see it in Ramsay’s eyes, hear it in the tiny cracks in his voice and the sweet sounds he didn’t even know Ramsay was capable of.

Damon is close. The urge to pound the warm body beneath him into the table until his completion is so strong it’s crippling. But he fights it. He wants Ramsay to come first – gods he fucking needs it. Needs to hear him ask for it, see him unravel just from having Damon’s cock inside him.

He pulls Ramsay’s hair, and angles his hips in a way that he knows – on the receiving end of it – makes Damon’s vision turn white. His fingers tighten on Ramsay’s hips and he hold painfully still. “Do you want to come?”

     Ramsay bites down on his lip hard, splitting it open once again, his eyes squeezing shut against the tears that have started forming there from pain and pleasure and overstimulation…

     Of course he’s close, he’s so close that it hurts, and he opens his mouth to respond with something sharp and biting but only ends up forming a strangled little cry at the change in angle, his eyes snapping open and looking up almost pleadingly when Damon stills entirely. It takes all of his restraint not to beg, not to push back against him in a search for more. 

His grin is devious. He bites his lip -- a sharp bit pf pain to distract him as he encourages Ramsay with a single, tooslow push and pull of his hips. He’s desperate to coax those words from Ramsay’s lips, knows they’re right there on his tongue, and if he kissed him he could taste them. Sweet and BITTER.