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Theon emerged from the unisex bathroom, adjusting his brown shirt and wiping any residual lipstick off his mouth and neck. Although he had spent an extra five minutes looking in the mirror and fixing his hair, he wanted to be positively certain nothing was left out of place.
He scanned the crowded bar for his companion he’d ditched as soon as the first smoking hot blonde with big tits and low expectations had approached him on the dance floor.
As he made his way through the packed bodies that pushed into him like bumper cars, he kept his eyes peeled for locks of wavy red hair.
But between the claustrophobia-inducing shoulders, backs and hips pressing into him from all sides and the multiple beers he’d already ingested, every face managed to blur to the same indistinguishable muddle.
The pleasant dulling of his senses from the alcohol in his system told him that it might be a better idea to pursue another partner instead of seeking out his friend.
The greasy smell of fair food, sweat and horses clung to each person he passed like a thick cloud. ‘Neon Moon’ played by the live band in the corner. Though off-key, it was pleasant and soothing to his ears.
He had just spotted a cute, petite brunette from behind. In the middle of taking note of her soft curves and lean calves beneath her knee-length lacy skirt. He felt a hand grasp onto his arm.
A glance over his shoulder confirmed his suspicions.
Robb stared back at him with a look that could sour milk. The signature disapproving expression that began with Ned Stark whenever they had come home too late, or brought a girl over without asking. The latter being rare for Robb and frequent for Theon.
In this instance, he was sharply reminded that Robb had directed that look at him with more frequency of late.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Robb eyed him up and down, concern growing on his face. “Where have you been?”
Theon allowed himself a small smirk. “Just doing lines of coke in the bathroom. Why? Did you want some?”
“You what?!” Robb’s eyes widened further than ever and he frantically looked Theon over as if certain there was something nefarious creeping on his person. Theon struggled to contain his laughter.
“Come on, you know what I was doing.” Theon made only a small attempt to keep the pleased tone from his voice. Considering the other man’s reaction, he wasn’t succeeding. And that only made his grin broaden. “You know me; I wouldn’t do that on a night like this.”
Robb sighed, exasperation as clear in his gaze as the deep blue within. Though the smallest of smiles teased at his mouth, in direct contrast with his attempt at a fatherly scolding manner. “That’s right; I know you. It’s exactly something you would do.”
“….. Ok, fair.”
That brought a full smile to Robb’s face. For the briefest of moments, Theon could understand why every woman in the place seemed unable to keep their eyes off of him, even the taken ones. As had often been the case. Theon was the one who always needed to work that much harder than him to get a partner.
Theon pushed that aside. He didn’t need to think of more things to ruin this evening that had started on such a high note.
He turned fully as Robb released him. “What did you want me for anyway?”
The other man’s smile fell to a flat line at the reminder. “We need to go, Theon. It’s getting late and I promised to pick up Arya from her friend’s house on the way home.”
Theon made a show of rolling his eyes. Of course it was going to be like this.
“Why can’t we ever just have fun together like old times? What’s wrong with staying out past midnight?” He placed a hand on his hip, tilting his head. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“Exactly; we’re not kids. So let’s not act like it.” Robb’s gaze and tone were calmly stern. It was clear he was attempting to be firm without starting an argument. He had always been good at keeping his temper in check.
Unlike Theon.
“Your mom being in the hospital doesn’t mean you have to pick up every slack dropped at the house,” Theon snapped. “I thought we were celebrating today.”
Robb seemed determined to remain cool and collected, despite his friend’s words. He leveled an uncompromising stare at him. “We have celebrated, Theon. It was fun today. But we have to go home now.”
Theon scoffed. “I didn’t realize you’d morphed into Ned overnight. Is it so hard to try thinking for yourself sometimes, Stark?” He raised a brow in a silent challenge.
It was apparent in the telling way Robb’s lips thinned and his nostrils flared that Theon had gotten to him, if only a little. An unfortunate skill that he had honed to near-perfection over many years.
“At least he has a brain to think with,” a young man’s voice said behind him.
Jon came to stand between him and Robb, shooting him a reproachful look.
“Really?” Theon glared at Robb. “Bringing in reinforcements?”
“I’m not here for you,” Jon said with a sigh, sounding mildly offended. “Not everything’s about you, Theon. I’m…” He looked away, his manner sheepish. Which only served to pique Theon’s sudden interest. “I just got done meeting up with my girlfriend.”
“Oh yeah,” Theon said, his tone rich with suppressed mirth and condescension. “I remember now… Isn’t she the one who looks like she stole her face off a troll?”
Jon’s dark eyes narrowed, a familiar look between them. “You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that?”
“Ooh, moved up from ‘doo-doo head’ to huh? Careful, champ; that’s grown-up language.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, thoroughly enjoying the exasperated looks on the other two’s faces. “You could get grounded for that.”
“I wouldn’t have believed that drunk you could be more rude than normal you, but I think you’re proving that to be the case,” Jon said lowly, his arms crossed as he scowled at him.
“Oh please, I haven’t had that many.” Theon smoothed his shirt over his flat stomach with a forced, unbothered air. “Just cause you’re a lightweight doesn’t mean we all are.”
Jon snorted quietly. With the music and loud din of chatter surrounding them, it was almost silent, but Theon could see the signature flare of his nostrils signaling his displeasure. “Not something I’d go around bragging about, man.”
Theon ground his teeth. “That’s cute. Why don’t you go for a little jaunt on the merry-go-round then, if drinking is so beneath you?”
“Theon,” Robb said softly, interrupting Jon’s response.
“What?”
The other man sighed. “We’re only saying this because we care about you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jon muttered, though his countenance was hardly that of someone who had just been insulted the way he had been. The brown of his eyes was as reserved as ever, but concealed therein was a soft look he reserved for those he considered family.
And try as Theon might to argue and fight it, he was no exception to that.
But that didn’t stop Theon from responding in the way he knew best.
“‘Care’?” he bit out. “If you two cared, you’d let me have some fun tonight instead of trying to drag me away. It’s not like it’s been super easy for me lately. You know what—” His words cut off against his will and he had to avert his eyes from their irritatingly knowing stares.
They were so genuine and…honest most of the time it was disgusting. Like little boys instead of grown men. His real brothers never gave a rat’s ass about him, much less about his feelings. It made it difficult sometimes for him to fully grasp why these two would sometimes go all out for his birthday, his victories, or his graduation.
But deep down, he knew the reason. Much as he’d like to deny it.
“Maybe,” Robb began, softening his voice, clearly sensing Theon’s dour mood shift, “we can all go out again tomorrow night?”
“Or,” Theon paused, shrugging with forced indifference and looking away to examine the rest of the room, “you could just leave now like you want to so badly.”
A deep, defeated sigh from his friend. “I can’t force you to come with us,” Robb said, and the obviously intentional, kind, non-confrontational tone with which he spoke only further stoked the flames of Theon’s irritation.
Rational or not, he wanted them to stay with him tonight. Wanted to drink with them and laugh. To have fun and forget his life for a short while. To enjoy the one good thing that had happened in what felt like so very long; he and Smiler had won against some of the toughest competitors in the country. He wanted to revel in it.
Wanted Robb to stay and tell him how proud of him he was.
“But I want you to be safe,” Robb continued, and as he usually was- unaware as to the true depth of Theon’s dismay. He turned to Jon, who stared back at Robb with silent shakes of his head as if he could guess Robb’s next words. “I know you have to help clean up at Shelly’s, but can you pick him up in an hour? I can’t come back after driving that far.”
Theon bristled; they were discussing him as if he weren’t even there. Like he was a child.
“This feels like a punishment that I’m not sure I deserve, to be honest,” Jon mumbled. “Should’ve gone to Ygritte’s when she asked me to.”
“He won’t give you any trouble then. Right?” Robb’s eyes looked deep into his own.
Theon gritted his teeth. He wanted so badly to continue arguing and make them regret this. But he couldn’t deny that he had difficulty outright telling his best friend no sometimes. Some internal conflict within him that, for all his bravado, told him to back down. Avoiding a fight and taking the easier way out lessens the chance of opening himself up to more hurt.
“Well, considering I don’t have a car, I guess that works.” Theon frowned at them. If he were inclined to view this from an outsider’s perspective, he could maybe acknowledge that he was being the tiniest bit of a prick. Though he was hardly in the mood to do so just then.
“Where will we meet?” Jon looked at him neutrally.
Theon pointed to the wall next to them, where pictures of couples adorned the expanse of it. Apparently the bar thought taking photos of their young patrons was a good way to repay their support. “Right here.”
***
He leaned back against the counter, elbows resting on its smooth surface, downing his second beer and watching the couples and groups of friends mingling, laughing and dancing together. It didn’t even occur to him to search out another worthy candidate for a decent fuck. His thoughts were too clouded and murky. Like trying to find a lost ring in muddy water. He couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t, pinpoint the precise reason he felt this way.
He chose instead to take in the country bar where he currently found himself. It was the place most of the rodeo crowd came to celebrate after, for its proximity to the fairgrounds and decent selection of drinks and entertainment. It wasn’t anything special with its huge dance floor, small live band and mechanical bull ride in the far corner. The music was fine and the crowd was always young and lively.
It was where he’d met his first steady girlfriend. Where he went when he wanted to go somewhere with happy memories rather than face the bleak road before him that was his life.
Where he had taken Robb for his first ‘real drink’ when he turned twenty-one, not that long ago.
The thought alone sent another burst of searing pain in his chest; he was left behind. Again.
They got to do these things so rarely with Robb’s new job taking priority. True, he had been there for most of the day and every competition and party before. But with Theon’s family situation worsening and Robb being well aware of it, he had thought his friend—his best friend—would stick around for him today.
Maybe I need to learn to expect disappointment, Theon thought, taking an aggressive swig from his bottle.
The pleasant taste of the beer hardly reached his tongue when someone shoved past him and knocked his drink off his lips, splashing its cold contents onto his face.
Theon sputtered, vigorously wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, coughing while he did so.
“Watch it, why don’t you?” a voice said mockingly to his left.
Blinking his eyes open against the burning sensation, he searched for the person responsible amidst the swaying bodies before him.
Immediately, he knew who had done it as soon as his eyes landed on the guy.
The tall figure with blond hair easily made his way through the crowded space without a backward glance. Theon knew who he was. And who he was running back to; the friend he followed around like some stray mutt. The guy who called all the shots in their little gang.
Theon slammed his mostly empty bottle on the countertop and pushed off in pursuit of Damon.
If he were in his fully right mind, he might have taken pause here and considered what he was doing. Most sane people stayed out of their way if they knew what was good for them.
But all that was going through Theon’s mind was sluggish, pulsing anger. Someone needed to pay for his bad mood. Right now.
Of course, it all made sense why he had not received any apology for the other man’s actions; the group of friends he belonged to— if such a tame word even applied to them— were notorious and from a small town a couple hours outside of Austin. They came in for all the major events, though only one of them ever competed.
And he had a bit of a reputation.
Theon had only seen and spoken to him in passing. Watched from afar while their group acted inappropriately. Which they did… often.
He shoved through the cluster of people in front of him and abruptly halted at the scene that greeted him. Damon was placing the drinks in his hands on a small table at the back of the establishment. They had chosen seating near the large plastic bull. Most of the tables around them were unoccupied. A cushioned mat made of foam and leather surrounded it so as to protect those stupid or drunk enough to attempt to ride it.
One of the drinks was immediately picked up and brought to the wide lips of Ramsay Bolton.
Theon watched his Adam’s Apple bob while he swallowed. His thick arm hooked around the waist of the plain-looking waitress in his lap. Something about the view felt odd and out of place to him. But he couldn’t say why.
When those pale blue eyes met his, it was as if liquid fire had been injected into his veins; he froze like a cornered calf. The urge to turn tail and run was strong, yet rather disconcertingly, another force kept him rooted in place. There was a strange magnetic pull to the man before him.
Perhaps it was that Theon had been drinking some and so it was more pronounced, but from the first time meeting him, the man had evoked in him a morbid fascination. Like finding a rattlesnake coiled in your boot. It made you want to flee from it out of instinct. But at the same time, it held a certain dangerous mystery and intrigue. He couldn’t turn away now that he had been spotted even if he wanted to.
The eyes holding him hostage lit up like sparklers. “Theon, isn’t it?” Ramsay asked, the smallest of smiles on his face. His midnight hair hung loose and long around his face, brushing the tops of his shoulders, his jeans were ripped across the knees in a way that suggested they had seen barbed wire at some point.
To Theon’s disgust, he noted grease stains of some sort across the thigh area of the jeans and dampness around the pits of his black shirt.
Belatedly, he realized that startling gaze was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.
“Ye—” His voice cracked- he coughed, clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he said, less forceful than he had initially intended, crossing his arms.
“And what can I do for you this evening, Theon?” Ramsay’s voice easily carried over the music floating around them. Deep and booming even when he spoke at a normal register.
Something about the way he said his name made the hairs stand up on Theon’s arms.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes narrowing on Damon sitting at the table, sipping his gin and tonic and watching the interaction with an arrogant smile. The sight of it made his earlier irritation compound. “Your friend knocked into me and spilled my drink.”
Now that he said it, his reason for storming over sounded stupid and unimportant. Childish, even.
Ramsay’s brows raised; he seemed on the verge of laughter. “Well, that’s not very nice.” He glanced at his friend, hand still on the girl’s hip in his lap. “Were you hoping for an apology?” His tone slid between genuine and mocking. It set Theon’s teeth on edge.
“No,” he snapped. “But,” he shifted in place, looking at the floor, feeling his chest tighten and throat close up, “someone needs to buy me a new drink.”
The other man did laugh then-—a quick, barking laugh that made Theon flinch and peer up. Ramsay’s broad chest shook and he held the serving girl closer to him. Theon glanced at her name tag as it flashed in the neon lights from the signs hanging on the wall beside them; ‘Kyra’, it read.
As he stared, she didn’t appear to be in distress, but nor did she seem overly thrilled to be in her current position. Could be that she thought she would get a bigger tip if she played along (unlikely with those two, he was fairly sure), or that she just didn’t know how to say no.
It didn’t really matter to Theon either way. All he cared about was the other man laughing in his face.
When Ramsay’s mirth subsided, he grabbed some loaded fries and pushed them into his mouth. “And what do you want me to do about that?”
He spoke with his mouth full, which made Theon’s cheeks heat. In anger, he was sure.
“I never told you to do anything.” His shoulders rose, his chest inflated along with the boiling in his blood. “But someone needs to replace my beer. Are you gonna offer for your pal?”
“Mmm,” the larger man hummed, stuffing more into his mouth. “No.”
Theon’s jaw clenched, his nails bit into his arms. “No?”
“Is there an echo in here?” Ramsay drawled, taking a large gulp from his bourbon before setting it aside and staring at him with an amused look as if this were his favorite game. “Listen, you’re being very rude interrupting our night like this. I’ve had a hard day—”
An obnoxious snort escaped Theon. “‘Hard?’ It’s not hard to hang on for a few seconds.”
Ramsay’s smile was still entertained, but his eyes flashed, his fingers bit into Kyra, who winced and leaned back into him. “That so?”
Theon met the other man’s venomous gaze. It wasn’t without difficulty though, as the air inside suddenly felt heavy; rushing into his lungs thin and bitter, his mouth felt like sand in the desert.
Ramsay’s gaze travelled leisurely down his form, and the instant he was released, his breath left him in a shaky rush.
“I have an idea!” Ramsay said brightly, jolting Theon. The other man regarded him with his head tilted. “How about we place a little bet?”
Theon’s brow furrowed, he opened his mouth to question, but Ramsay cut him off.
“If you can last ten seconds on that,” he pointed to the large black plastic monstrosity across from them, “then I’ll personally buy you a new drink.” He presented the idea as if he had just invented the lightbulb.
Theon remained unimpressed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Ramsay’s hand slid beneath the hem of Kyra’s black work skirt, but his eyes never left his own. “I thought you said it’s not hard.”
“It isn’t,” Theon ground out. “But I shouldn’t have to earn this.”
“I see this rather differently.” Kyra fidgeted a bit at whatever Ramsay was doing, but he paid her no mind; his cutting gaze remained on Theon. “When I have a difficult dog, I find that some character building is in order. Something to help them remember their place. A… training exercise, if you will.”
Whether it was his drinks fully settling into his system now and making him slow, he couldn’t say. But he wasn’t sure at all what Ramsay was implying. Though he had been known to say outlandish things from time to time, this truly wasn’t making any sense.
“Whatever,” Theon snapped. He swallowed once. “And what if I can’t stay on? What do you get out of it?”
Something like satisfaction glimmered in Ramsay’s eyes. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” A flash of white as he smiled; his gaze felt like it was burning his skin. “I know you can do it,” he purred.
Well… it didn’t sound like Theon had anything to lose at this point. Only something to gain. And it wasn’t as if he had anybody to hang out with besides. His throat tightened at the reminder.
“Fine,” he relented.
“Great!” The loud voice rattled Theon’s bones. Ramsay turned to his friend. “How about you get it started for him?”
Damon stood without complaint, striding over to the control box, which stood beside the mat surrounding the bull.
“Go on.” Ramsay gestured to the bull.
Ok. I guess this is happening. Theon couldn’t help feeling a little bit silly as he clambered over the low wall, his feet sinking into the cushion beneath him.
This part was familiar at least. Grasping the strap connected to the bull’s neck and swinging his leg over was not so different from riding Smiler bareback.
His thighs constricted against the sides of the bull, rubbing uncomfortably into the hard plastic.
“Do you plan on sitting like that the whole time?” Ramsay’s voice so near startled him; the man had gotten up from his seat and leaned over the ledge, staring at him expectantly. The girl was nowhere to be found.
“I’m not in charge of it,” Theon said indignantly. He glared at the other man. “Why is he the one controlling it, anyway?”
“He took training for this a while back, don’t worry.” Ramsay waved his hand dismissively, his tone simultaneously placating and impatient.
“‘Training?’” Theon snickered. “Can’t a monkey do it?” Then he paused and pretended to think, examining Damon, who met his stare with a bored look. “No, I guess that fits.”
The room blurred and tilted dizzyingly, vertigo gripped him as he tumbled off the side of the bull, landing in a heap on the mat. His cheek pressed to the material beneath, while his arm bent beneath him at an awkward angle. Whatever unknown substances spilled on the mat made his skin stick slightly to it.
“Oops,” Damon’s voice taunted behind him. “Sorry, my hand slipped.”
Theon growled under his breath, hauling himself up without a word.
“I’ve seen you ride,” Ramsay said above him, his voice sounding vaguely… disappointed. “I know you can do better than that.”
Theon looked up from his position on all fours. He had… “You’ve watched me compete?” He detested the bit of hopefulness in his voice that slipped through.
Ramsay took a sip from his drink, smirking into his glass. “Yeah, when I had nothing better to do.” He sighed as if this topic were the most uninteresting thing he had ever heard. “You know that dressage is put as one of the last to compete because it’s the most boring, right?”
The brief flare of happiness instantly burned itself out at those words. Only to be replaced with the familiar sting of betrayal and hurt. He wished he had better control of his feelings, but he couldn’t help the burn at the back of his throat.
He glowered at the other man’s smile and raised himself to his feet. There was no way he would let those two think they’d won if he could help it. And so, he climbed back onto the mechanical bull, settling into the uncomfortably hard plastic. He was prepared this time for another unexpectedly quick spin.
There was a soft ‘tsk’ behind him. Theon tensed as, with a quiet grunt, a large body slid on with him. To his horror, a thick arm hooked around his stomach and pulled him flush against the person at his back, the warmth of it drawing forth immediate goosebumps across his flesh.
The knobs of his spine sank into the soft stomach, he felt them vibrate with the rumbling chuckle emanating from the chest behind him. He squirmed in the confinement.
He can’t be serious. Hasn't he mocked me enough tonight? The clear implication that he was incapable of doing this on his own nearly made him combust with the sheer force of his righteous anger.
Even worse, the man’s large metal belt buckle dug into his backside, drawing his attention to how unbearably close they were.
“Get away.” He pushed an elbow back into the other man’s side. It didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever; he remained unmoved. Theon huffed and quickly gave it up as no use. That didn’t mean he had to take this treatment silently though. “I’m not a child,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Lips at his ear, hair tickling the shell of it. “Then quit acting like one if you don’t want me to treat you like one.”
Theon’s lip curled of its own volition. “It’s not for you to say how I behave or don’t behave.” He hated the hint of truth in Ramsay’s words; he had been acting rather like a child tonight. But like hell was he ever going to admit that.
The arm around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs. “Mmm,” Ramsay hummed, rubbing his other large hand down Theon’s arm. “Maybe not yet. But from that pitiful performance earlier, I think it’s obvious you need some guidance.”
Theon felt his stomach quiver at his use of the word ‘pitiful’; nearly everyone in his life had slung that descriptor at him at one point or another.
His thoughts were cut short when the hand migrated from his forearm to his hip, squeezing it. “You have to let your hips absorb the movement.”
His cheeks heated and fists gripped the leather strap harshly. “I can ride,” he snapped.
“Really?” There was an obvious smile in the other man’s voice. His tone dropped in register, breath ghosting across the back of his neck. “Then show me.”
Theon yelped as, without warning, the contraption began to move beneath them. Its movement was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Hardly even akin to riding Smiler; it shifted, swayed and rocked like the deck of a boat. He could remember a few times when his father had taken the family on his boat and out to sea. The only time his father had been remotely happy.
And those memories still never ended well.
For a fleeting second, Theon was grateful for the arm around him, grounding him in the moment. But it didn’t mean he was any less disturbed by the crotch pushing into him on each jolt down. Or the hand holding his hip securely in its strong grip.
“Remember, move your pelvis,” Ramsay said into his ear, helping to guide him into the next sudden upward shift.
Begrudgingly, he followed the other man’s lead. The most similar experience to this that he could recall were rides on his horse and the first time he had fallen off. What he had learned; how to anticipate and when to hold on more firmly.
The bull picked up speed with a mechanical whir. Theon held as tightly as he could, his other hand subconsciously flying up to the limb around him, feeling the arm hairs itching beneath his palm.
At once, the machine slowed, coming to a gradual halt.
Theon registered a tingling sensation on his inner thigh. He glanced down; the pale hand on his hip had moved to his leg, the thumb drawing idle circles into his flesh. It sent a sparking sensation straight to his lower stomach that he wasn’t sure what to make of. He told himself he didn’t like it. He knew that much, at least.
“So,” Ramsay said, his voice a low rumble behind him, “all alone tonight, huh?”
Theon bristled at the insinuation and pushed at the arm pressed to his belly. “How would you know?”
The other man laughed at him. Again.
“Don’t see anyone with you right now.”
Theon slumped slightly, his shoulders deflating. What was the point of arguing or pretending? It was true; he was drinking alone. Like a loser. All because his best friend had something more important to do. As usual.
“It’s a shame.” Ramsay adjusted his grasp around him, gripping him firmly. Theon tried to disregard how comforting the hold was. There was no reason for him to want to be held like a baby, apart from loneliness. And he had been coping with that just fine.
“What is?” Theon mumbled, not really caring what the other man had to say. He found he just wanted to go home.
A nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the faint sound of breathing in. “That they didn’t stick around to see you. You did so well.”
Just like that, those four words stirred something in him. A feeling that shamed him for how little control he had over it. In so few syllables, a piece of his heart thawed and melted, pooling warmly in his chest. He had been aching just an hour ago to hear that very phrase from Robb’s lips.
“So well, in fact,” Ramsay murmured to him, “that I think I’ll get you that drink anyway.”
Only, one drink turned into two…
Two turned into four…
Four turned into six… At least, he thought it was six?
Strange sensations beset him; hands constantly holding him in one way or another, the weight of an arm heavy on his shoulders. Words jumbled inside his ears, making near impossible to discern their meaning when they finally made the journey to his brain—
“You know this guy?”
“Let’s go, Theon, I’ve got you.”
“It’s late.”
“Stay with me.”
“Please.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“Not again.”
“I won’t.”
“Ever.”
“R…”
He didn’t know which words or sounds were his own. His eyes lied to him. He clung to the one solid thing in his vicinity, inhaling their familiar spice. And in their embrace, he found peace.
***
Consciousness came to him in the form of a thick fog rolling over his psyche. Like being extracted from freezing mud; his mind slow and sluggish and refusing to remove itself from its deep repose.
Sunlight through the gauzy curtains greeted his blurry eyes, forcing awareness on him. His nose wrinkled as the tangy smell of iron assailed it.
Theon tried to lift his head and instantly wished he hadn’t woken up at all; he could have been convinced his body had been hit by a truck if he didn’t know better. The pounding directly behind his forehead felt like a hammer chiseling away at his brain matter. His stomach convulsed in rebellion against him.
A shudder wracked his body; his skin felt cold and clammy, with a light sheen of sweat coating it. The chill in his bones informed him that he was naked beneath the sheets. Why? He had never slept naked before in his life.
Even attempting to sit up was a chore, and one he immediately regretted; the room seemed to become disjointed and difficult to make out. Briefly, his eyes helped marginally. Once his vision cleared, he was able to make out a generic black microwave flashing the time on its green digital clock. A small couch and TV, a short hallway to his right next to the tiny kitchenette…
A hotel room? He didn’t remember going to any hotels. But truthfully, he didn’t remember much of anything from last night.
Beginning to sit up fully, he pressed a hand to his lower stomach as a sharp pain radiated deep inside. Rubbing at it didn’t seem to help at all, and the more he pushed into his gut, the more horror began to take root in his mind.
Unlike every other morning he had woken after a night of drinking, something was off about this instance. His body felt weighted down and lethargic, as if his muscles had been repeatedly pounded with a meat cleaver. And there were other pains along his flesh that were crying out in agitation. Other parts of him that felt like they had been run across with barbed wire.
A strange, sticky wetness made itself known between his asscheeks as something oozed out. His body seized in its immediate reaction; mortification—had he drunk so much that he shit himself overnight? Feeling around his front with fear growing like wildfire in his chest, confusion began to creep its way in. How could his dick get chafed and raw after a night out? Presumably, he had gone with some girl to her hotel room and they had sex. But why would his body feel like this afterwards? The only thing he could liken it to were the times when he had been a young teen and so focused on chasing his orgasms with such vigor that he forwent any lube out of necessity.
And that still didn’t explain the state the rest of him was in.
None of these things added up in his brain, they did not belong in this scenario at all. Though one question made its way to the forefront of his harried mind.
Whose hotel room is this?
The creak of the bathroom door was as ominous as it was unexpected.
Theon’s gaze snapped over and riveted to the hallway. From his position, the door leading out and the bathroom were hidden from view around the corner, and with his body rejecting any attempt to sit up, never mind standing up, it forced him to wait in nervous anticipation for whatever was about to happen.
His skin tingled; he was about to get the answers he wanted. Then a new worry came to him; what if he’d done something horrible while he had been drinking? For a brief moment, he considered pretending to be asleep so he could form a plan of how to explain himself. But to what end? No, maybe he needed to apologize for the state he was in. And starting off on a lie seemed less than helpful.
Still, one thing lingered at the edges of his mind that he yearned to know above all else; how did he get here, and in this condition?
He held his breath like a bubble in his chest, but it rushed out in shock at the sight that greeted him.
To say the figure that appeared was the last person Theon had expected would be the biggest understatement of the century.
He stared, dumbfounded, as every piece to the incongruous facts of his situation all came together to form a tale he wasn’t the least prepared to hear.
Ramsay strode around the corner, distracted by the phone in his hand, in the middle of reading something on the screen by the looks of it. The black hair on his head hung wet and dripping across his fair-skinned shoulders. It looked stringy, like when your hair gets greasy and you don’t wash with soap, only water.
He wore nothing but a white bath towel loosely wrapped around his wide hips. It tucked up against the bulge of his lower stomach. Dark hair was painted across his chest, which was strong and defined, but with a layer of supple fat coating it that lent his pecs a slightly rounded look. The hair trailed thickly down his navel, disappearing beneath the towel. Theon’s stomach roiled. Though with what emotion, he could not say.
“Finally.”
That voice had Theon’s eyes swiftly, tentatively looking up to meet the piercing, excited gaze of the other man.
Carelessly placing the phone on the small desk, Ramsay came around to sit heavy and solid next to him on the bed. Theon’s legs were jostled by the movement and the mattress dipped, weighed down by the other man’s mass, pulling him unwillingly towards Ramsay’s orbit. The man himself stared at him expectantly, his expression gleeful.
Theon moved back as much as he could beneath the potent stare. Their uncomfortable closeness and mutual state of undress was not lost on him. A million questions sprung to the fore of his mind, but none seemed capable of making the voyage to his tongue, much less past his lips.
Ramsay still only wore his towel, and something about that had Theon holding the covers tighter, pulling them higher up his body. He had been in locker rooms and with Jon and Robb in just towels, sure. They had even seen each other naked a few times and thought nothing of it.
But there was a vulnerability to his position now that had never been a concern for him in the past. He had woken in a strange place, with someone he didn’t know all that well, his clothes and phone nowhere in sight, and no explanation thus far for what had happened. He had the strangest inkling of being exposed, put on display like some prize.
“I thought you’d never get up.” Ramsay pouted, his tone disappointed. “It was so boring.” His eyes sparkled in the rays of light shining in through the window behind him, lending them a translucent quality. “And I could hardly wait to make up for earlier.”
He must have seen Theon’s confusion, for his expression morphed to one of mock pity. The look would appear honest were it not for the tiniest of sly smiles playing on his lips. He patted Theon’s head— a gesture Theon never would have allowed in any other circumstance and which left him bristling now.
Ramsay appeared oblivious to his obvious discontent as he said, “You couldn’t get it up last night... I got a bit carried away trying to help you, but you seem to have a problem in that department.” As he spoke, his eyes started to rove down like he could vividly imagine the body hidden beneath the covers. He brought a finger over to draw idle patterns along the sheets that lay across Theon’s belly.
Theon cleared his throat, his trepidation mounting like the goosebumps on his flesh where his skin shivered beneath Ramsay’s hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Those startling eyes flicked up to his. Theon’s breath caught painfully in his chest; there was nowhere to look but into that gaze. Yet try as he might in some vain hope to decipher the other man’s intentions through it, any answers that might have swirled in their icy depths remained a mystery to him. Frozen and out of reach.
The reality of the situation rushed back when the hand over his stomach reached for the top of the sheets across Theon’s chest. Ramsay’s voice was deep and husky, wide smile suddenly back in place as he said, “Now that you’re awake, we can pick up where we left off, of course.” He sounded as if he could hardly contain his joy. “I’d hate to leave you wanting.”
As soon as his one safety barrier began to peel off of him, Theon’s heart made an escape attempt straight up his throat. He yanked the blankets back, clutching them snugly to his body.
“No.” Theon was sure his heart would beat out of his chest with the force of its mad rhythm; it roared like a train in his ears.
Ramsay raised a brow, pausing his movements. He cocked his head, his expression somehow entertained at a time like this. “‘No’?”
Theon pulled the blankets again, out of the other man’s grip. He glared, determined to appear as unbothered as he could, given the situation. “You heard me the first time.”
Ramsay chuckled to himself. “What’s the matter? Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden?”
Theon opened his mouth to respond, but paused in alarmed disbelief as Ramsay began to crawl over him. He straddled his body and placed both hands next to his head. Impossibly close now, Ramsay seemed to delight in the smaller man’s clear distress. His breath wafted across Theon’s mouth, singeing the moisture of sweat beading along his upper lip. The smell of beer, syrup, sausage and some other kind of spice permeated the air between them. "Or could it be that you need some convincing?”
Theon’s nausea rose like an awful wave inside him, he was certain he would be sick. “No, I need some space.” He tried to frantically twist away, but the other man pinned him with a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Get away.”
He knew he sounded desperate and scared, but there was little he could do about that; his body ached in reminder of its mistreatment, and knowing now just who had been responsible for it had sent his system into fight or flight. Even so, there was another part of him—a dark and shameful creature that had laid dormant inside him until now—whispering that there was another option before him. One, he refused to give any serious consideration now; he intended on maintaining the shred of his dignity for as long as he could.
Ramsay settled into him with a pleased sigh. Theon winced when their groins came in contact; even through both their flimsy coverings, he was sure he felt the other man hardening.
Shifting around until he was comfortable, Ramsay said teasingly, “Mm, no, I’m just fine right here.”
Theon’s breath left him in a sharp exhale. Glowering as meanly as he could at the larger man, he tried to shove him away. However, he quickly discovered that he may as well have been attempting to stop the rising tide with his bare hands for the futility of it all; Ramsay didn’t budge at all. It was not unlike trying to move a bull using sheer force alone. Even those long ago play wrestling matches between him and Robb, when they had both been giving it their all, had always seen him come out on top. Had Robb just been going easy on him?
At long last, Theon admitted defeat and gave up, flopping his arms down angrily. He seethed in silence, despising how weak and pitiful his ineffectual efforts left him feeling. He didn’t want to acknowledge how helpless he truly was.
Ramsay met his look with an infuriatingly fond one of his own. He leaned in close, paying no mind to Theon’s flinch and nestled his mouth into Theon’s throat with a pleased hum. Theon tensed like a frightened prey animal beneath a hungry predator, feeling the smile of the lips against his jugular. He froze as if he thought that by moving less, he wouldn’t trigger the other man’s lust for blood.
A tiny nip at his neck that made Theon wince. A deep inhale of his skin. “Besides,” a happy exhale, “I didn’t hear a single complaint last night,” he purred in a low growl against his neck. With no more warning than that, Ramsay began bestowing biting kisses to the muscle there that were so harsh it was like he was starving for flesh.
Theon writhed underneath him, trying to stifle any whimpers or moans he felt building inside him. “Yeah, well, you’re hearing them now,” he said breathlessly; between his useless pushing at the broad, squishy chest pushing down on his ribcage and the damaging kisses, he was struggling to keep a clear head.
“Hmm, I don’t believe you really mean that.” A hard lick up the column of his throat.
That brought a spark of ire in Theon’s chest to mix with the other conflicting emotions. “You should start believing it before I—”
“Before you what?” Ramsay cut him off, his voice muffled against the spot where Theon’s shoulder met his neck, yet there was an obviously undeniable, excited quality to his words.
“I—I…” He mentally cursed himself. How could he have gotten himself in such a situation?
Large hands interrupted his train of thought, grasping his hips, fingers digging in. Theon winced— it felt like his bones were about to snap in the iron grip.
Pale blue eyes took up his field of vision. They were all he could see as Ramsay whispered, “What could you do to stop me right now if you actually wanted me to?”
Theon swallowed, his mind unable to come up with a single intelligent thing to say, caught in the beams of that gaze. So he said the first thing that came to mind, “I’ll scream.”
Ramsay snickered, bringing a snarl to Theon’s lips. The larger man’s eyes danced with merriment. “Like a woman?” He briefly dipped in to kiss him on the cheek playfully and pull back, his grin wide and bright. “That is so cute. I’d love it if you would. Go on, give me a good show.”
Theon felt both his cheeks burn, the warmth spreading down to his chest the embarrassing way it always did. Most notably when he had to do any kind of presentation in school in the shabby clothing his father saw fit to clothe him in. Ripped shirts that drowned his slim frame and overlarge pants he tripped over. Hand-me-downs from his brothers that the other kids mercilessly teased him for. Nobody had ever wanted anything to do with him. Nobody except one...
A lump formed in his throat and he struggled to control his breathing. “No… Like someone who’s being assaulted.”
A dark brow rose, Ramsay tilted his head, considering him under an intense stare.
Theon’s own brow furrowed as he watched the expression on Ramsay's face change. Where once there was a teasing and arrogant smile, it was replaced with a seemingly thoughtful gaze.
He flinched when rough fingers began to card slowly through his hair. The sensation was far from unpleasant, but it still put him on edge; he leaned away as far as he could into the thick, uncomfortable pillows. But when the tips of those fingers massaged into his temple, he had to bite back the sigh that was halfway up his throat, poised on the back of his tongue.
A thick finger twirled a lock of Theon’s hair around it next to his face. A frown pulled the corners of Ramsay’s lips down. “That’s such an unpleasant word,” he murmured quietly. “It’s disappointing how quick you are to slip that mask back on. Hiding from what you really want but are too cowardly to reach for.” The brush of his nose along the side of Theon’s face made him shudder. “Acting like you don’t want this… like you don’t want me.” He pulled away again, the cruel smile back in place. “And yet you were so eager last night. So receptive and desperate for someone to look after you… I was only doing what you wanted.” He brought his face closer, breath puffing across Theon’s face. “Just like I am right now.”
Theon swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “Please stop.”
There was a shift in the air; like the smell of poison in your lungs. Ramsay’s eyes shimmered dangerously. “Say that again.” His impossibly large hips dropped down to rock into Theon’s own pelvis with crushingly bruising force, grinding their hip bones against each other.
Theon whimpered as, to his shock, his abused cock twitched in equal parts pain and arousal between their bodies. His system’s reaction to the treatment had his mind spinning like a top. He shouldn’t want this. Should he?
“Stop.” Theon shoved his palms into the chest above him. It was like being consumed by Ramsay. His smell surrounded him, his body heat burned hotter than any campfire he had ever sat before.
“No, no,” Ramsay said, sounding out of breath as he ground his erection into Theon. The slight droop of his gut pressed into Theon’s own stomach, further pushing him into the mattress, trapping him between it and the larger man. “Say it like you did last night.” Ramsay’s eyes were closed as he lost himself in his fantasy. “Tell me how much you want it. Beg me.”
No, no, no, his mind screamed out. He can’t want this.
Without thought to guide his actions, he moved on instinct and kicked out with both legs. By some miracle, part of his leg hit between the other man’s legs. Not with full strength, but enough to force Ramsay to double over with a soft, pained grunt.
Theon wasted no time in rolling out from under the other man and scrambling across the bed to safely stand on the other side, ignoring the protest in his aching joints and ass, as well as the thick slide of liquid from his hole down his thighs.
He snatched the edge of the sheets and held them up over his chest defensively. It felt a little ridiculous to hold them like that—like a woman—but he didn’t want to be on display for Ramsay any more than he already had been.
The other man had regained his composure remarkably quick—what little he possessed to begin with— and was now reclining back in the pillows right where Theon had been lying. He bent one leg, propped it up arrogantly. He regarded Theon beneath a heavy-lidded, searing gaze.
“You know I’ll have to punish you for that at some point, right?” The hint of danger lingered in his tone, like a knife emerging from its sheath. Ramsay smiled wide and sharp when Theon shifted uneasily. “Not right now, of course, pet; I still think I should be generous with you for a while. And truthfully,” he folded his arms behind his head and relaxed into the covers, “I find myself in a pretty decent mood this morning, although the exact reason for that remains a mystery.” He sent Theon a smug smirk. “I think it might have something to do with last night, but I can’t be sure.”
Theon snarled, his anger coursing hotter than a branding iron through his veins. “Oh please, as if you have any right to hold a grudge. I only returned the favor for what you did to me.”
Ramsay scoffed, his amusement dimming as his own eyes narrowed to icy slits. Theon backed as far as his hold on the sheet would allow; worried the other man might tackle him to the floor based on his expression. “Nothing you didn’t want me to do, I can assure you of that,” Ramsay said coldly, a mean sneer on his lips. “Lucky I didn’t leave you out on the streets with how fucked up you were.”
Any argument Theon had died on his tongue at those words. He paused, uncertainty festering in his mind like an infected wound. A niggling thought burrowed in the back of his mind like an earthworm… It couldn’t be true. He had never propositioned another man in his life. Had never wanted to… not really. Not with any conviction.
Maybe there was once or twice he had considered it as a joke. Or… perhaps when in the midst of drinking heavily, he had considered one person in particular with any real seriousness. The one person who had no incentive to consider him in turn. Who had always been there for him when no one else was.
Until now.
Right now sitting before him was someone who obviously had been with him when he was alone. With no one else who cared. Someone who could have actually hurt him. If what some people said about Ramsay was true, he could have woken up far worse off.
But he hadn’t. Ramsay was right; he had… taken care of him. He could have left him to stumble his way home, or worse.
So why didn’t he?
Theon’s stomach contracted, threatening to spill its contents across the carpet. He needed to leave. The room’s air was stale and dry in his airways.
He cast his gaze around, searching for his clothes. He spotted them a few feet away. Just out of reach if he wanted to remain covered.
He frowned at Ramsay’s smug expression and tugged at the blanket beneath the other man. “Get off,” he hissed.
Ramsay sighed deeply, a lazy, satisfied grin blooming along his lips. “Don’t worry, I did… A number of times.” He winked. “Thanks for your concern though.”
“You—” Theon sputtered, his insides groaning in pain, “you are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. The most selfish, egotistical—”
“Handsome,” Ramsay cut in, “incredible, talented, intelligent—”
“Rudest, most obnoxious dick in existence.” Theon fumed openly, his chest heaving with the effort; he blinked to clear his fuzzy vision.
Ramsay tutted, but his eyes remained frigid and hard. “You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me to go easy on you.”
“I don’t care,” he snapped, glancing at his clothes strewn across the floor. “With any luck we’ll never have to interact after today.”
There was a beat of silence. The other man had an uncharacteristically serious set to his features. “What makes you think I want that?”
Something unspoken passed between them. Theon hesitated. When his voice came back, it sounded hoarse and unused. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what’s gonna happen.”
He looked down and took a deep breath, resigning himself to giving up his covering for the sake of reaching his belongings. Dropping the blanket, he snagged his shirt and pants off the floor with blinding speed, the weight of his wallet was still somehow in one of his pockets. His boxers seemed to be missing, but he wasn’t about to go searching for them, so he jammed his feet into his jeans and tugged them up, trying to hide his wince as the fabric dragged over his raw, swollen flesh.
To his dismay, he discovered a large rip down the front of his shirt once it was on, exposing his entire chest. Perfect. How was he supposed to go out in public like this? He needed…
“Where’s my jacket?”
“Hm?” Ramsay made a vague noise of interest. When Theon turned, he saw the other man’s gaze fixed hungrily on his— now thankfully covered— lower half. The pale blue of them glittered with a dark need.
“My jacket,” Theon snapped, forcing himself to disregard Ramsay’s odd behavior. “You know, that thing one wears over their regular shirts that typically has long sleeves and is used to keep one warm? I’m sure you’re familiar.” He stared defiantly at Ramsay, still reclined on the bed, his eyes tracing Theon’s body reverently. Theon tried not to fidget beneath those piercing eyes. Somehow, the light blue of them had darkened. Become sharper. More intent and heated. Like mist coiling across a field of ice.
Theon swallowed; his throat felt suddenly dry, like he hadn’t had a drop of water for days on end. “Mine was denim. Where is it?”
Ramsay’s eyes finally raised to meet his own with a bored expression. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with your nanny. Last time I checked, I wasn’t your caretaker.” He let out a decisive snort. “Besides—unlike some—I look after my own things just fine.” He said the last few words with the smallest of knowing smiles that Theon, in his current state, could not divine the meaning of. But the malicious quality of it had him subconsciously inching for the door.
Theon’s chest puffed in a show of confidence he felt none of. “Do you at least know where my phone is?” he ground out through tight lips.
Ramsay removed one hand from behind his head to wave his fingers at the desk. “Over there.”
Theon grabbed it and headed for the door without a backward glance. He found his shoes in the hallway and slid those on.
His hand was on the doorknob when a voice spoke up close behind him.
“Is this really how it’s going to be?”
Theon spun around, his heart thudding like a small animal against the bars of its fleshy prison.
Ramsay leaned against the wall a few feet away, his arms crossed. He had pulled on a pair of black sweatpants in the time Theon had been donning his shoes.
“How what’s going to be?”
There was a sinister quality to Ramsay’s smile this time. Sharp and unhinged. “Going to play the little helpless victim?”
Theon’s chest constricted with a sudden, painful pang. It was as if the other man had reached into his deepest memories and plucked at them, scattering them all across his mind like marbles in a jumbled game.
He had the familiar, unwanted feeling of being a kid again. Alone and rejected by nearly every adult in his life. Questioned and condemned for things outside of his control. Those times he hoped to forget when he had shared some of his home life with the school guidance counselor, his uncle and friends when prompted.
And been met with the same response each time.
‘Why would you accuse your father of that?’
‘He didn’t beat you, he didn’t assault you, you’re not a victim.’
‘Stop blowing it out of proportion.’
‘You have it a lot better than most kids.’
‘You’re not a victim.’
He hadn’t been trying to appear like a victim. He had only ever wanted to share what was going on in his life. To make some sense of it all. To feel heard and understood.
And he was not helpless anymore. He had a voice of his own. He wasn’t a victim.
“No.” This time, Theon didn’t have to reach for the conviction; it found him and he held tightly to it like a drowning man to a floating piece of driftwood. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “I’m not.”
“Great,” Ramsay cooed. He reached forward and patted Theon on the cheek with his large hand. “Such a strong little boy,” he murmured.
Theon shook the hand off, trying to not pay attention to the way those words made his insides twist in a way entirely separate from the raw feeling in his gut.
He yanked the handle of the door; he had the overwhelming urge to leave. Something told him that if he stayed a minute longer, it would be too late. “I have to go.”
“Guess you do.” Those fathomless eyes shone with an inner peril. “I’m sure you’ll remember what I said though.”
“Yeah,” Theon said, stepping out. Anything to get out of there. “I will.”
“My good boy.” The flash of a white smile. “You won’t disappoint me.”
Theon shook his head. He felt incapable of doing anything but agreeing. “I won’t.”
A flash of what could only be described as victory shone in the other man’s eyes just before he allowed the door to shut at last, leaving him alone in the quiet hall.
Theon’s hands were shaking so badly as he fished out his phone that he had trouble at first seeing the screen. He should know who to call to help him— there was only one person who came to mind. Only one who wouldn’t lecture, or mock him. But his thumb hesitated over the contact.
It would raise too many questions. Questions he didn’t feel like answering. Didn’t know how to answer.
One thing he knew as he looked around the quiet hall with its drab forest-green carpet and generic landscape paintings on the walls; he’d been to this hotel. He had brought girls to it for hookups when he got fed up with getting corrected for it when he lived with the Starks.
With pain dogging his every step, he limped down the hall; something about standing by himself in a silent hallway in the early hours of the morning made him uncomfortable. Once he made it to the foyer with its tiled floors and sitting area with a gas fireplace, he looked at his phone again, resigned.
There was nobody to call.
A tightness spread across his chest, clogging his throat; he didn’t want to burden his friends with more of the broken remains of his mistakes. They were, as ever, his own. And the thought of their disappointed ‘I told you so’ faces was more than enough.
My fault. What was his fault? He finally allowed himself to attempt to piece together last night’s misadventures. He had drank too much— his pounding head could attest to that. Presumably gotten a little carried away celebrating.
But to end up with Ramsay Bolton? How? The other man had never shown interest in him in that way before. Usually his interactions with Ramsay had been having to endure a quip about his performance, a backhanded compliment or a ruffle of his hair, which he tried to avoid at all costs. And none of their exchanges ever lasted more than a few seconds.
So what changed?
These confusing thoughts were almost impossible to form into a picture that made sense in his current condition.
A thought surfaced in his mind amidst the swirling tide of emotions; there was only one place he wanted to be right then.
****
Theon rested his arms atop the white wooden fence, gazing across the lush, grassy fields that stretched to the small creek at the end, with willow and birch trees lining the water’s edge.
The occasional oak stood as shade in the paddocks for the horses. Smiler stood beside him along the fence, grazing and ignoring the other horses in favor of his human’s company.
A small smile touched Theon’s lips despite the discomfort that continuously wracked his frame and the tight, choking hold in his chest; it was a comfort like no other to be here with his horse. Exactly what he had needed. The sun beating steadily on his shoulders and the top of his head. With the smell of earth, horse hair and hay sweet in his nose. Smiler’s steady, reassuring presence touched him more than most words ever could.
Though his stomach announced a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s meager lunch of small fries and a beer before competing, now he just wanted something to drink.
But there wasn’t much alcohol to be found at his and Robb’s shared townhouse. He had stopped there on the Uber ride to the horse boarding facility. To wash off the seemingly endless grime and bodily fluids all over his body. Stepping into his shower had felt like heaven. He had not seen Robb at their house, for which he was glad.
It was really Robb’s home anyways; of course he paid most of the rent and almost all of the utilities with his fancy manager position at his dad’s company. Theon barely scraped by on his waiter salary as it was, thus he could only contribute enough to cover the power bill, if that.
It was a small comfort that Robb never outright said that it was his place, of course— always referring to it as ‘theirs’ and that Theon’s contribution was ‘more than enough.’ Annoying as it was, that was just the way he operated; he’d give and give and give without expecting anything in return. Just that Theon respects his boundaries and is honest with him.
They both knew that Theon hadn’t always been though. It was a small wonder Robb had not kicked him out already.
“Thought I’d find you here,” the softly spoken words broke through Theon’s musings.
Theon frowned and did not immediately turn. “Why’d you come?”
There was a pause, then—“I wanted to see how you were.”
Stifling a sigh, Theon turned slowly, facing Robb. The other man’s red hair was messy from sleeping, with the hint of a five-o’clock shadow along his jaw. He looked like he didn’t get the best sleep. His expression reflected the hurt deep in his blue eyes.
When Theon did not respond to his previous statement, Robb continued gently, “You had me worried, Theon.”
Theon scoffed, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back. “Yeah, so worried you never came to check on me.”
A small frown pulled at Robb’s lips. “I sent Jon to bring you home, remember?” He searched Theon’s face, as if looking for an answer hidden somewhere upon it. “He talked to you. You said you didn’t want to leave with him… You were with…” he trailed off, hesitating, seeming to read the uncomfortable expression surely now taking over Theon’s face.
“I was fine,” he muttered, rubbing his bicep and fixing his gaze on the ground, at the emerald-green grass brushing his shoes.
“Did you…” Robb paused. He sounded as unsure as Theon felt, and each second before his next words felt like the spine-chilling anticipation just before the guillotine fell. “did you sleep with him?”
Theon felt his face heat with the force of his anger. A maelstrom of whirling emotions clouded his view. Memories full of shame and hurt assaulted him. All this fueled his words. “No. I’m not a faggot.” His lip curled in open revulsion. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t with— with him.” He refused to meet Robb’s gaze. Though it wasn’t hard to picture the look of disgust certainly residing in his deep blue eyes. He sniffed quietly. “Ever.”
Silence crept between them like a timid animal, ready to flee at the first sign of noise.
A hand lightly touched his shoulder; he tensed, waiting for the lecture.
It never came.
Instead, there was a—“Theon.”
Hesitantly, he peered up, expecting judgement and maybe scorn.
There was none of that in Robb’s eyes; they were soft and searching. Though concern lined his brow.
“You know it’s ok… if you’re into that, I mean.”
Theon stilled, staring. Something cracked in his chest, like the break in a dam— a flood of rushing emotions swelled inside with nowhere to go. The tight feeling that had plagued his heart since that morning began to recede. He had no reply to give.
Robb seemed to understand; he smiled reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. “I love you no matter what. Always.” The concern grew on his face then; he appeared troubled. “I just want to be sure you wanted it… Did you?”
Did I?
A tempest of uncertainty and doubt washed over his mind. Clearly, he had wanted to stay with… Ramsay. If he hadn’t gone with Jon, maybe he had wanted what came next… Maybe it was something he deserved. Something he had… asked for.
“I think so,” his voice came out as if it belonged to someone else; far away and foreign to his ears.
Robb’s grip tightened on his arm, he grew serious. “Theon,” his tone was grave and harder than it had ever sounded, as if he hated to speak the words but was forcing himself to, “if anything happened that you didn’t want, you know you can tell me, right?”
Theon raised his head and squared his shoulders beneath Robb’s hold. “Nothing happened, Stark. Things like that don’t happen to guys.”
Robb shook his head, his gaze distant as if he were looking for the right words. He swallowed once before speaking. “This can happen to anyone, Theon.”
Something in that superior tone made Theon’s hackles rise. “I didn’t ask for a lecture. And there was no ‘this’. There was nothing. Nothing happened in the first place.” Even as the lie passed his lips, his body raged in outright defiance against him. Reminding him of what had transpired not twenty-four hours ago. Each bruise throbbed in reminder, his aching ass pulsated with each beat of his heart, prompting him to not forget what had seemingly been shoved inside wrapped in sandpaper.
An emotion disconcertingly close to pity flashed across Robb’s face. He always seemed able to read Theon’s thoughts better than anyone. Theon hoped that at least this time, some of his turmoil would remain his own.
“I believe you.” Robb forced a smile. The obvious effort it took resulted in him looking slightly pained. It would have been funny if Theon were in his right mind. “You hungry?” He presented a small brown bag held in his other hand, crumpled and stained with grease from the food inside. “I figured you hadn’t eaten since the other day. This is from that one place we liked when we were kids.”
Theon shook his head. He really just wanted a drink. “Maybe later,” he mumbled. The stress of the day had diminished, leaving him empty and drained, as if he had run a marathon after getting dragged behind a car.
“I get it.” Robb smiled a more genuine smile this time. His eyes as bright and earnest as usual. It pained Theon for reasons he could not articulate. “Maybe we could go for a ride together sometime. I can ask some friends. And I promise I won’t miss any of your competitions or parties from here on out.”
A small smile quirked Theon’s lips. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. His hopes had been smashed more times in his life than he could count.
It didn’t make the disappointments sting any less when they happened, though.
But maybe… maybe this time he could believe. Could allow himself to have hope. Robb had never really been the one to let him down before. Not in the ways that mattered.
“That sounds good.”
They walked side by side to Robb’s car. The late afternoon breeze stirred the tree’s branches in their wake. They waved as if in farewell.
*****
The sky through the living room windows glowed with the brilliance of bright, vibrant pink rays as the sun made its steady journey across the sky, peeking through the gray clouds. It was barely noon, though it was difficult to tell with the mostly overcast sky.
Theon stared at the large oak trees outside with their changing leaves of brown and red from his place on the couch, his back leaning against the armrest. Against the armrest of Ramsay’s couch. In Ramsay’s house. While wearing Ramsay’s clothes.
A brief glance down at his broken leg confirmed the thing was still there. Holding him back. Reducing his autonomy. Leaving him reliant on Ramsay.
A burden. Just as he’d been his entire life. There was a suffocating pressure that clenched his chest at the thought.
He sighed deeply, glaring at the apparatus containing his calf.
Why did this have to happen?
Ever since that rodeo when he and Ramsay had… fucked. For real, that time. Three months ago. Ramsay had been messaging him at least every week, asking to take him out and experience things together. Bringing him along to work when Theon had time off from the diner. It had been nice.
Until Theon’s competition a month ago.
It had started like any other; warming up his horse, getting the tack on him— Smiler tossed his head excitedly when he put the saddle on— and waiting his turn. He had taken Smiler for a quick ride outside the arena to loosen him up. He’d noticed his horse acting the tiniest bit stiff in his back. Arching beneath him and balking when he never had before. Then he’d asked Smiler to move into a trot.
As soon as their speed picked up, Smiler had snaked his head down between his legs and bucked with a mighty surge that sent Theon into one of the boulders lining the parking lot of the fairgrounds. His fibula had apparently cracked on impact. He could only remember bits of what happened next between flashes of the blinding pain.
Ramsay had been there. Holding his head in his lap and murmuring words of praise to him.
‘It’s ok.”
‘I’m here.’
‘…won’t leave you.’
At least, he thought that’s what he had heard. The memories of that day were hard to grasp; like a wily fish, they thrashed and slipped away whenever he reached for them.
The tinkling of dishes rattling caught his attention; he glanced over his shoulder to see Ramsay striding into the room from the kitchen and carrying a tray laden with what looked like different foods. Not altogether an unusual sight where Ramsay was concerned.
What did make Theon pause was when Ramsay set the tray on the coffee table beside him. His jeans sagged down his ass, pushed down by his muffin top, exposing his pale crack slightly. It shouldn’t be as enticing as it was, but Theon found himself averting his gaze or else staring long enough that Ramsay would say something. He had the unique ability of making Theon feel at once worse and better about his leanings.
After setting down the tray, without pausing, Ramsay carelessly lifted both Theon’s legs off the cushion to sit where they once were and settle them in his lap. The movement made Theon tense and yelp, “Gently— gently!”
“I was trying to be gentle,” Ramsay said, though his smile hid none of his enjoyment as he watched Theon inhale sharply while glaring at the other man.
“Not trying very hard,” Theon hissed out.
Ramsay’s expression shifted to slyly mocking. He rubbed his palm across Theon’s boot the doctors had given for his leg. An ugly, bulky black thing made of plastic and velcro that his brothers would have relentlessly teased him for if they were here.
“Poor thing. Good thing for you, I know what’ll make you feel better.”
Suspicion bubbled in Theon’s brain— the possibilities of what he could be talking about swirled around in his head in a mad scramble. None of the likely possibilities were appealing.
He was answered by the spoon Ramsay brought up and presented to him, his gaze expectant and eager as if this were some great gift.
“I’m not eating that.” Theon’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to,” Ramsay said easily, like there was no question about it.
A scowl furrowed Theon’s brow. “I don’t want it.”
“That’s nice. I don’t recall asking how you felt though.” There was a dangerous edge to Ramsay’s words, a hint of menace creeping along like a thorny vine.
Theon crossed his arms, staring at the spoon held to his lips as if it had personally insulted him. “My hands work just fine.”
“I know,” Ramsay said, smiling like he knew something Theon didn’t. “It’s only your brain I question.”
A frown pulled Theon’s mouth further down. “You’re not doing a great job at convincing me to do what you tell me to, just so you know.”
“Mmm,” Ramsay hummed, tilting his head. “That’s irrelevant— I usually get what I want.” His gaze shifted, expression slithering to something more serious. “The only thing that’s up for debate here is how much force is required to get there.”
The spoon had not moved away.
“Open up,” Ramsay sing-songed. In the same tone one would use to coax a stubborn toddler out of refusing to eat its baby food.
Theon’s mouth remained resolutely closed. He shook his head silently.
No fucking way. This was not a fight he planned on losing. He’d rather starve than suffer the indignity.
Ramsay sighed yet regarded him fondly as though he wasn’t as put out as he acted. “I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
He didn’t sound sorry at all, and Theon furrowed his brow in question. He would have asked what the other man meant by that, but he was too preoccupied by the rough fingers suddenly pinching his nose and blocking his airway.
Theon reeled back, but there was nowhere to go; he was pressed into the arm of the sofa and his legs—one of them broken and throbbing angrily with every tiny move he made— were pinned in Ramsay’s lap.
The need to breathe burned his lungs; he had just exhaled when his air had been cut off. His airways screamed desperately for oxygen.
Opening his mouth a fraction, he tried to speak with his last breath, “He—”
The utensil and its contents were jammed into his mouth and pulled straight back out. The acidic, salty taste of tomato soup coated his tongue and went down the wrong pipe as his nose was released.
With tears in his eyes from the intensity of his gagging, he choked down the mouthful, some of the soup escaping his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He coughed harshly while breathing in desperate gasps to soothe his starved lungs.
“Such a good boy,” Ramsay praised patronizingly.
Theon swallowed carefully; his throat felt like it had been rubbed with steel wool.
“What the hell was that for?” he forced out, shoulders shaking while he tried to regain his breath.
“What was what for?” Ramsay asked as if he hadn’t just tried to choke Theon with soup.
Theon wiped his chin on his sleeve and stared at him in outraged incredulity. “Why did you do that?” He didn’t even have the strength to sound as angry as he was— it came out far more feeble and unsure than he meant it.
Ramsay smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile; the look was warped with something startlingly close to malice.
“For the same reason you chain up an unruly dog: to teach it a lesson.”
Through the embarrassment and discomfort, that phrasing brought Theon’s hackles up the smallest bit.
“I don’t need to be ‘taught a lesson’ from you.”
Ramsay paused, considering him. And it was like the sudden change in weather before a thunderstorm in the other man’s expression; Theon’s hairs stood up on his neck, his stomach writhed beneath the weight of that searing stare. It fixed Theon to the couch more firmly than physical restraints. Try as he might not to, Theon fidgeted, pulling his legs away as much as he could.
Then Ramsay smirked, a playful lightness slipping into place. His hand drifted idly across Theon’s uninjured leg the way one would stroke the back of a cat. “So what I’m hearing is; you want me to do it again,” he purred excitedly as though the prospect of it delighted him. His dark brows raised innocently. “Is that it?”
Theon shrank back, the armrest pushing into his lower spine. He had come to learn that Ramsay wasn’t one for insincere threats. And it wasn’t difficult to imagine just how much he would enjoy that; any opportunity he had to control or ‘help’ him, he took without a moment’s hesitation. As if he got some sort of god complex from watching Theon struggle and need to rely on him or something. The man was overbearing at the best of times… And nearly intolerable at the worst.
Nearly…
It didn’t help that he wasn’t wrong that Theon needed to eat; he hadn’t eaten in some time; his hollow-feeling stomach and current weak will could attest to that.
A small sigh escaped him. So much for winning this fight.
Hating with every ounce of strength he had how obedient it made him seem, he silently opened his mouth.
“My good little boy,” Ramsay purred as his lips wrapped around the spoon.
The praise scorched across his cheeks; Ramsay knew what it did to him. Just like he knew how much he hated the special names he bestowed upon him, but continued to call him by them regardless. Although that one was admittedly less offensive than most of the others.
The rich, acidic flavor wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought, but he didn’t like tomatoes very much, so each swallow was a struggle.
Nevertheless, he continued to allow Ramsay to feed him. Like a baby. If it were anyone else, he’d slap them for even suggesting such a thing. But Ramsay was different. A force of nature he couldn’t contain or hold back even if he tried. Something he had never truly dared to do before. Even when said force threatened to suffocate him with its intensity.
At long last, the bowl was scraped clean. Theon eyed it, half expecting Ramsay to make him lick it or something.
He didn’t. Merely put the spoon back in the empty bowl.
Theon finally had time to take in a relieved breath at not having to consume anymore— he was full enough. His stomach rumbled indignantly at being forced to take in something it didn’t want.
He watched Ramsay pick up a different bowl— this one the size one would use for mixing dough— and place it in his lap. He stabbed at the contents and instead of eating it himself, brought the forkful of what looked like Caesar salad to Theon’s mouth, pressing insistently and getting the dressing on his face.
“What are you doing?” Theon snapped, unable to stand it any longer.
Ramsay raised a dark brow. “You need me to spell it out for you?”
“…. No.” He glanced away from that cold, taunting stare, fidgeting as if he could feel it physically touching him. The side of his foot nudged the squishy fat of Ramsay’s stomach where it protruded slightly. His heart hammered longingly; he wanted to relax into the soft hold, not feel cornered by it. “But I don’t want anymore.”
Ramsay tutted, bringing Theon’s gaze back to the other man, like the pull of the moon and the tide; inescapable. “See, that’s the problem with you— always thinking you can’t, because nobody in your life before now has forced you to see the things you can do. It’s really not that hard. All I’m asking you to do,” he held the fork up again, his eyes seeming to gleam brighter, his voice a rumbling, soft whisper, “is open your mouth.”
Theon hesitated, staring despairingly at the food; grilled chicken and lettuce doused in creamy sauce. “I can’t. I don’t feel good.”
Ramsay’s free hand rested on his uninjured leg, fingertips digging into the bone. His face, however, remained coldly calculating. “How do you think I feel? I’ve been working on this meal for hours, and you only had one bowl? After everything I’ve done for you, that hardly seems considerate, don’t you think?”
Theon felt his shoulders sag; defeat drowned out his spite in one fell swoop. There was no argument against that; he was right. Ramsay had taken care of him these last few weeks. Granted, he insisted on it. And Theon was not opposed to leaving Robb’s place since he and Ramsay were… together? Partners? Whatever they were, it had made more sense to him to stay with Ramsay, at least while he healed.
He should have known how Ramsay would use the situation to his advantage, to take something for himself. Though what he could be getting out of this, Theon had no idea.
Those twinkling eyes seemed to shine brighter as he finally accepted the bite. The crisp lettuce and tangy dressing together was much nicer than the soup.
And thankfully, not as filling. He was able to eat a lot more of it than he’d thought. Ramsay said very little as he fed him— a rarity for him— merely uttering a few words of praise here and there, and wiping his mouth with a napkin as if he really were a child.
After the fifth time of it, when the bowl was nearly empty, Theon turned his face away from the napkin and said irritably, “Is that really necessary?” He scowled, resolute. “I can do it myself.”
Ramsay smirked, continuing to wipe at his lips, careful in his attention and lingering longer than he needed to. “You and I both know that’s not true.” His eyes flicked up, looking up at him from beneath his brow. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself at all. I think it’s more than obvious, even to someone with your intellect, that you need someone to take care of you.”
“Lucky me,” Theon deadpanned.
“Yes,” Ramsay hummed. “You are.”
Theon could only stare in annoyed disbelief, struggling to formulate a response, when Ramsay picked up a plate and put it in his lap on top of Theon’s legs.
“What is that?” Theon asked, his stomach quivering around the full meal he’d already eaten.
“Good god, you really are that stupid, huh?” Ramsay said offhandedly, cutting into the food.
“I know what chicken and waffles is,” Theon snapped, then winced internally; attitude likely wouldn’t get him anywhere with Ramsay, he had come to learn. “But it’s a breakfast food,” he said lamely, hoping maybe that would convince him.
Ramsay snorted as if he’d just heard the funniest thing ever. “Says who?”
“Says everyone.”
“Good for them.” Ramsay extended the fork to him, holding up a bite. “I’m not everyone else.”
Dread pooled in Theon’s stomach as thick and real as the food already residing inside; how was he supposed to eat that in addition to what he already had? He pleaded with his gaze that Ramsay would understand and not push him on this. The idea of him throwing up on Ramsay’s couch made him just as sick as actually being forced to eat more.
“You can do it,” Ramsay crooned in a loving tone.
A large hand touched Theon’s stomach, making him jolt in his seat. It pushed and felt around, pulling nausea up in the back of his throat as his belly was massaged.
“I think there’s still plenty of room in there.”
Theon shook his head slowly in despair. “Why can’t you ever do anything for me in a nice way?”
A look of exaggerated hurt took over Ramsay’s broad features as he lowered the fork. A small flare of hope burned in Theon’s chest; maybe that would be it.
The tone of Ramsay’s voice, however, boded nothing good for him.
“You think I’m not nice enough?” The other man put the plate back on the coffee table and turned in his seat to face him.
He smiled conspiratorially before placing both hands on the armrest on either side of Theon, making him pull back as much as he could and wait nervously as Ramsay invaded his space. It was impossible to escape that startling gaze as Ramsay stared back into his eyes.
His breath drifted across Theon’s face when he said sultrily, “Would you like to see how nice I can be?”
He didn’t wait for a response before sealing his thick, wide lips over Theon’s and pulling them into his mouth. Biting and licking as if trying to eat the flesh from Theon’s face.
Theon could only moan into the kiss—if one could call it that— as Ramsay held his face in between his scorchingly hot hands. There was no point in pretending to be an active participant; it made no difference. Ramsay would use his body how he wanted and would not change no matter what Theon did.
Things took a turn though, after Ramsay was seemingly done leaving bruises along his neck, when the other man began to kiss lower. When Theon’s shirt was too in the way, he bit across the smaller man’s chest, into his nipples, until Theon whimpered and whined for him to please stop. Which Ramsay did with a pleased chuckle, biting and nuzzling into Theon’s— now more round—belly. Paying special attention to lift his shirt and lave broad licks and kisses to the flesh there. Pushing and swirling his nose into him.
“Mm,” Ramsay hummed, grasping the flesh in his palm and giving it a squeeze that almost made a burp erupt from Theon’s throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t call you ‘my little boy’ anymore.” He nuzzled into the stomach again, licking contentedly. “‘My chubby baby’ might be more accurate.”
Theon frowned down when Ramsay grinned up at him and pointedly eyed Ramsay’s own stomach straining against his shirt. “You’re one to talk. I think I can hear your waistband screaming in—” he broke off with a yelp as Ramsay sunk his teeth sharply into Theon’s hip before soothing the pained skin with a lick.
“Be nice,” Ramsay whispered, the hint of a threat lining his words. Then Theon felt him smile into his flesh. “Besides, I doubt anything or anyone could scream as loud as you were last night…” He began to move lower again, hunching his large body over Theon’s legs to bring his attention down. “Or how loud I’ll make you right now…”
Theon squirmed beneath those lips and teeth. His hands clenched into the leather of the couch; he didn’t want to push at Ramsay and ruin this, but the sensations made him want to jump out of his skin.
Another part of him ached terribly, and Ramsay soon took notice; his kisses had finally made it to Theon’s crotch. He laughed lightly at the obvious bulge. Theon swore he could feel the breath through his sweatpants.
“I know just what my baby needs,” Ramsay murmured reverently. Before long, he was lowering the top of Theon’s pants and pulling out his fully erect, flushed cock. Ramsay pumped his broad fist over it once, experimentally, which made Theon scrunch his eyes closed and bite his lip to contain his whimpers.
“I—I... Ramsay… please.” Words came to him as if through a wood chipper; torn and incoherent.
“Desperate, are you?” Ramsay sounded highly amused as he rubbed his thumb into the slit of Theon’s dick.
Theon peered down past his heaving chest to see Ramsay watching his face with rapt attention. The other man smiled sharply and did not look away as he leaned further to grace hot kisses down Theon’s length, making Theon’s hips stutter desperately and try in vain to push up, but they were held down by Ramsay’s other hand.
Those lips paused at his tip and kissed feather light at it.
“I want it, please,” Theon panted out. Ramsay had never blown him before, and now that the possibility was being dangled before him, he felt he needed it in that moment as badly as he needed air in his lungs.
“Maybe,” Ramsay said deviously, continuing to kiss and occasionally lick at Theon’s slit, driving him to the brink of slow but sure insanity, “maybe I will.” He held Theon’s cock in his hand still, but pulled back, taking those beautiful sensations away. His eyes pinned Theon to the sofa as he fought to control his breathing. “If…”
“If what?” Theon never enjoyed giving in, but if the other man promised to let him finish, he was fairly sure he’d do whatever he asked of him.
Ramsay’s gaze held him as he lifted the fork to his lips again, wiggling it slightly. “No more fighting?”
Theon hesitated. He truly felt sick— Ramsay had already made him eat more than his fill.
The hand pulled at his dick, making him see stars, effectively yanking him from his thoughts like a dog on a leash.
“Nggh,” Theon moaned, breathing shakily. He nodded his head. Anything, just please don’t stop, is what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t bring himself to grovel and beg. Not yet.
A look of triumph burned in Ramsay’s bright blue irises. And no sooner had Theon finished the bite of—admittedly deliciously fluffy and warm—chicken and waffles did Ramsay lick a broad stripe down Theon’s dick and suckle all around the sides of it.
It wasn’t long before Theon was close; his balls tightening and drawing up. Ramsay seemed to sense it and pulled away before he could, squeezing the base of his cock.
Theon actually did whine then— tears clouded his vision. He would have growled if he had the energy; his stomach felt laden with lead, pulling him down. His body drained from the energy it took while pleasure pumped through his veins. And he had been so close to the edge.
“Why?” he could only croak out.
Ramsay did not release his dick, no longer stroking but continuing to run his thumb into the underside, along the silky skin there. Not enough to bring him close again, but just enough to drive him mad with want. Theon’s pelvis tilted into the hold, bringing a smile to Ramsay’s lips.
Another forkful was presented to him.
“If you’re a good boy, you get treats,” the other man said, a sinister edge to his smile.
Theon blinked at him before his gaze moved to the food he was being offered. Another mouthful-sized bite of thick, golden waffle with crispy, warm chicken, dripping with syrup and butter.
His brain felt as if it was surging frantically to try and understand why Ramsay was doing this. Far too foggy to grasp the hints he had been given and attempt to make sense of them to figure out why he was being pushed like this. Granted, Ramsay had been looking after him. Taking care of him all this time. And sometimes his methods weren’t the most gentle. Most of the time, in fact.
Theon’s musings were cut short as Ramsay’s grip on his dick began to loosen; the other man’s gaze grew hard and cold. A spark of warning in his winter eyes.
The sudden lack of stimulation brought forth a surge of desperation in Theon. Where normally he would take pause when the other man gave him that look, now he felt only frenzied with need.
“Ok, I will— I’ll take it,” Theon said quickly, panicky— Ramsay had removed his hand, now only touching the base of his cock with light, small swirling motions.
Theon wanted so much more; he whimpered quietly, unable to help himself.
The brief annoyance disappeared from Ramsay’s gaze, and Theon didn’t think he could seem any more pleased as he made Theon eat another bite.
And another. The still warm, fluffy waffle paired with the savory chicken and sugary sweet syrup coating his tongue would have been nice if he weren’t already stuffed full.
Yet another bite was presented and consumed the same way— Ramsay feeding him wordlessly, his eyes drinking in every flicker of emotion, hand still resting near Theon’s pubes. So near and yet refusing to give him what he wanted more than anything at that moment. Theon was sure his dick had never been harder in his life.
Certain now that Ramsay wouldn’t give him what he really craved, Theon resigned himself to his fate and continued allowing the other man to feed him without a fight.
“You’re so cute when you’re dejected, you know,” Ramsay said, his voice and gaze genuinely, annoyingly fond.
Theon frowned, but he took the next bite anyway; too tired to argue anymore.
As soon as the morsel passed his lips, the grip was back, holding tightly to his base.
Nearly choking on his mouthful as Ramsay resumed stroking him with quick, rough movements, he was forced to swallow too soon— it went down dry and scratchy, drawing a broken cough from him. Nevertheless, he eagerly bucked his hips as much as he could into Ramsay’s hand.
Through his blurred vision, he could see the only hint that the other man was taking in how Theon responded in the telling curl to one corner of his lips.
He pressed yet another forkful of food to Theon’s panting mouth.
So focused was he on the sparks coming straight from his groin and shocking his system with heat from the too-tight hold that he did not notice the next proffered bite.
He was left on the edge of bliss when the hand released him, unable to stop the whimpers leaving his throat; he swore his cock burned with want. Gazing up miserably, he hoped to implore the other man with his look if pleading words failed.
“Last bite.” Ramsay smiled smugly.
Theon huffed, valiantly fighting back a sneer. Tempted to refuse again and finish by himself. At least then he could maintain an ounce of self-reliance.
But that notion was overtaken with the memory of Ramsay’s lips around his cock. The thought of it alone had a gush of blood surging into his already achingly stiff member. The wet, playful tongue rasping along him. Even the way Ramsay wasn’t careful with his teeth, occasionally scraping him in his intensity.
Not dissimilar to when he would lose any care or gentleness he might have possessed and bite hard enough to leave bruises that lasted for weeks, or grasped hard enough to leave Theon’s bones groaning in the midst of fucking. He showed his passion in ways so unlike any of Theon’s previous partners.
But that was part of the magnetism of Ramsay—he wasn’t like anyone he’d known before. And even some of the harsher parts of him, the side to him that made Theon feel like a lesser being and… hurt him, in a number of different ways… Ramsay could soothe away, make him almost forget with tender affection. Make him feel wanted and needed… loved. After everything he did.
Ramsay cared for him, surely. At least, he took care of him. But wasn’t that the same thing? He wouldn’t do this if Theon didn’t mean something to him. And here Theon was spurning his kindness.
The kindness that came with condescension and leverage and belittling right alongside it. A small dose of sugar with the mouthful of poison.
Admittedly, Theon had had to just give in and push through the difficult moments more times than he cared to think about. Because usually then things would be easier. Better. Ramsay was often kinder after Theon relented. As he so often did.
Like right now.
A feeling of unease stirred in his gut—he had given in so many times. He couldn’t think of a single instance since moving in that he had been able to outright get his way.
He could change that now. Let Ramsay think he had won again. After today, things would be different.
The last bite taken, carefully chewed and swallowed, Theon allowed himself a sigh of relief. The food he had already consumed sat heavy and deep in his stomach. His blood pulsed around the organ, helping along the digestion.
When Ramsay reached for his cock again, Theon immediately covered it with his own, his face set in a hard line.
Ramsay’s eyes met his own with a small raise of his brow, as if daring him to explain himself. The air between them suddenly felt charged with electricity.
Theon wrapped his hand around the appendage. His breath hitched as he started up a familiar rhythm, thumb brushing over the head.
“I’m not—” his words died in a hiss as his cock got the friction it yearned for. He swallowed, his mouth felt impossibly dry, hand shaking the tiniest amount. From what, he could not say. He held the other man’s hard stare defiantly. “Not playing this game with you.” His thin chest puffed up, forcing his words to come out as strong as he meant them. “I don’t need you.”
For a moment that seemed to stretch on endlessly, Ramsay regarded him with a cool, searching look, body unmoved. His broad hand rested on Theon’s upper thigh, where it had stopped in its journey southward. A warm, heavy reminder of the pleasure he had just been giving Theon with it.
Then Ramsay smiled thinly and something in Theon’s chest quivered, his heart hammering, climbing up his throat. He knew that look; that same look Ramsay had right before he would bend him over with hardly any preparation and enter him without ceremony or care. Cruelly ramming into his prostate with every thrust. Always to demonstrate some point or other. Usually having to do with Theon being too mouthy or ‘disrespectful.’
Yet Theon secretly suspected that Ramsay enjoyed drawing a rise out of him. Pushing him until he lashed out. Just so he could punish him for his ‘rudeness.’ He hated how often he rose to the other man’s bait.
And how often he sometimes didn't entirely hate the punishments. Not when Ramsay would hold him close through his shivers after, kiss and lick away his sweat, whisper in his ear how beautiful, how special he was to him. Those moments brought a warmth to his chest he had never found with anyone else before.
There was none of that tenderness in Ramsay’s gaze now as, without warning, he grasped Theon’s hand and pried it off his flushed cock.
Theon whimpered both at the sudden tearing away of his pleasure once again—his cock strained for attention, leaking hungrily—and the feeling of his bones grinding within the crushing grip around his hand.
Ramsay’s hand easily encompassed his—his own was terribly slim, frail by comparison. While Ramsay’s hands were thick and strong, just like the rest of him. Paler, with small calluses beneath the base of each finger from a life of rough, hands-on work and holding the bull rope. His palms, Theon knew from experience, were smooth and soft.
Theon watched timidly as the other man examined his hand, turning it over the way a child might with a particularly interesting insect. Theon winced; his fingers were rapidly losing sensation. The grip had not let up. A reminder of how much damage Ramsay could deal him if he really wanted to.
As if Theon wasn’t already well aware of that.
A thumb brushed across the back of Theon’s hand, and when Ramsay finally spoke, it was with a false, overly nice tone. Speaking over Theon’s wordless pleading as if he wasn’t the one currently causing him pain, “You plan to finish using these tiny things?” A soft scoff. “These don’t look good for anything except sewing and maybe drawing cute little pictures for me.” He tsked softly, pityingly. “You can lie to yourself all you like. Say that you don’t need help.”
He smiled, eyes raising to meet Theon’s. “But you and I both know what you want. What you were begging for not so long ago.” A throaty, sultry whisper, “What you’d do anything for.”
Against his will, Theon’s dick twitched between them. Ramsay looked down at it and then back to him, eyes knowing and glimmering with amusement.
Before Theon could do or say anything, Ramsay was leaning down low, hunching back over Theon’s legs and swallowing Theon’s cock as if he were starving for it.
Theon groaned loudly, sparks skating along his nerves, a warmth running down his spine. He buried both hands in Ramsay’s long black hair. One of his hands tingled numbly, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t doing it to hold, but to anchor himself as he attempted to buck into his mouth.
Ramsay, however, allowed him no movement but what he permitted; holding Theon’s bony hips in his hands and effortlessly pinning them down while he moved along the appendage. His nose pressed to the dark hair at the base, holding Theon’s cock in his throat.
A small, bitten off whine burned up Theon’s throat; so close. He was so close. His balls tightened, drawing up. Ramsay let out a humming laugh around his member, vibrating it and making Theon curse. A tongue swirled and stroked against the underside of his dick, the suck of lips wrapped around his base as Ramsay swallowed, his throat constricting tightly around Theon’s cock.
Theon swore he saw stars. His pelvis yearned to pump into the tight, wet warmth. But he was denied by Ramsay’s continued pressure holding him down.
On the brink of a yawning wave of release, Ramsay drew back, taking away all contact.
Theon half growled, half choked and reached desperately for his cock.
Fucking asshole, he thought bitterly. He needed to come. If he thought he needed it before, that just felt like play compared to this.
Ramsay denied him yet again by grabbing his wrists in his hands. When Theon fought the grip, the other man moved both wrists into one hand, easily holding them both. With his other, he pressed Theon’s stomach down, pushing him back into the couch. Theon groaned, stilling his struggles; the pressure almost had the food making a reappearance onto the floor.
“Hold. Still,” Ramsay said, full of authority. His voice slightly rougher than normal from what he had just been doing.
Theon wanted to ignore the command, but the more he struggled, the more nauseous he became. He slumped back into the cushions, defeated. His chest fought to take in enough air.
“That’s better,” Ramsay purred, brushing his fingers across Theon’s bloated, pained stomach. Theon refused to meet his certainly pleased eyes, feeling the waves of need coursing burning-hot in his veins; his cock lamenting the loss of contact. The discomfort from the large, warm hand on his full stomach made him shift uneasily beneath the pressure.
He barely registered when the other man turned to the tray, still holding both of Theon’s hands in one of his own. “Now, where was I… Ah, yes.” He removed his hand from Theon’s belly to pluck another item off the tray.
It was impossible to squash the despondent noise that came out of Theon’s throat. He shook his head, dark brown hair falling into his eyes. “I’m going to be sick.” His mind whirred for the right thing to say to make this end. Of course, as it so often did, the wrong thing came out first. “You can’t make me.”
Silence, he felt Ramsay’s sharp gaze on him…then—“Is that so?”
Not even the clear note of danger in the tone could make Theon give in. He tried to pull his hands away to no avail.
“After all the things I do for you. The time and money I spend taking care of you, you can’t even do this for me?” The sinister voice chilled his bones— he froze in place as Ramsay spoke. It was impossible to read Ramsay’s tone. It ran between scornful disdain and stealthy sarcasm.
When Theon looked up, insulted and in disbelief despite his instincts telling him to shut up. Ramsay was watching him with a look full of contempt. “I didn’t ask for—”
“What exactly would you do without me?” Ramsay cut him off, voice as hard and cold as the ice in his eyes. “You can barely get around on your own. You don’t work, won’t help me with anything.” He tilted his head, cruel amusement shining in his eyes. “The only thing you’ve ever been good for is doing what you’re told.” Then his gaze hardened, a sneer on his wide lips. “And you can’t even seem to accomplish that much.”
There was a crack in Theon’s chest then, his heart withering against the tight feeling there. His head lowered, eyes tracing the grain of the wood in the coffee table. Words of his father’s from years past rang like a half-forgotten memory in his ears. Telling him how useless and stupid he was. How unwanted and unneeded he was. That things would be better without him. How it was his fault he needed to be punished with belts and left in his room alone for days without food.
He wasn’t trying to be difficult right now; he was frustrated and afraid of throwing up all over Ramsay’s things. Why couldn’t Ramsay understand that? Why did he have to make what Theon wanted impossible?
The words ‘I’m sorry’ begged to be released from his lips. But he wouldn’t say them; he knew he hadn’t really done anything wrong this time. Ramsay was just addicted to getting his way.
That didn’t mean the other man’s words left no sting on his heart.
Fingers gripped his chin with surprising gentleness, tilting his head up.
His eyes connected with the searing blue ones before him. And it was like nothing else existed but those bottomless, frosty pools—he felt pulled into their depths, drowned in them.
“It’s really not that hard,” Ramsay said, sounding as if he was trying to come across as comforting. “I can take care of you. If you let me. Will you?”
Those words evoked a buried memory from Theon’s consciousness; Ramsay had said something similar that day they had fucked properly for the first time. The day he had been there for him when no one else was. Not even—No. He couldn’t think of that. Not now.
It was the day everything had changed for him. Ramsay had shown him what he was willing to do and how far he was willing to go to show how much he cared.
Ramsay hadn’t left him. Not even after getting what he wanted from him.
Maybe… maybe he did owe it to him to do what he asked. He was right—it wasn’t that hard. He could do it.
He nodded within the grasp of the hand under his chin, feeling like he was giving a piece of himself to the other man to do with as he wished.
Ramsay smiled, his thumb brushed across Theon’s lips. “My sweet boy,” he murmured, seemingly to himself.
He released Theon’s wrists and face as he reached for what appeared to be skewers of mozzarella balls, cherry tomatoes with basil leaves and a balsamic glaze drizzled on top.
Theon’s lips pressed together at the sight—he really didn’t like tomatoes. Ramsay knew that, but maybe he forgot. Whatever the reason, Theon obediently ate each piece on the stick one by one as they were presented. Each bite was a little different, exploding across his taste buds with acidity from the tomatoes, creamy saltiness from the cheese and sweet, tanginess from the glaze.
He initially felt a little thankful that they didn’t seem to be filling him up as rapidly as the waffles had. But he quickly found his stomach cramping and rumbling in discomfort. It felt as if the food inside were expanding his stomach past what it should be capable of—pressing into his lungs and making it difficult for him to breathe properly.
After the fourth skewer, he stiffened at the feeling of a hardness forming against his leg in Ramsay’s lap. As subtly as he could, he slowly shifted his leg off of the bulge— he didn’t know what it could mean. Or what he was supposed to do about it in his state.
Not for the first time, the way Ramsay got excited over something unconventional put him on edge.
Theon glanced at the tray and instantly felt his spirits lift; it was empty. The only morsel left was the few that were left on the stick Ramsay held and fed to him. The last bite was the cheese. Knowing that no more would come after was the only way Theon found to get it down, fighting the way his throat tried to close up and deny him.
He stifled a burp, watching while Ramsay tossed the bare skewer aside. To Theon’s surprise, the other man didn’t wait before cupping his face between his large, harsh hands. Once again, Theon was reminded of how easily Ramsay could crush him on a whim if he so chose.
There was no time for words before Ramsay latched himself onto Theon’s lips. Biting and refusing to allow him space or time to breathe as he licked into Theon’s mouth and coaxed out his stubborn, shy tongue. Theon had never been shy in bed with partners before being with Ramsay.
He could taste his own faint, salty musk on Ramsay’s tongue, and that brought a strange, unfamiliar heat to his cheeks. His dick flushed painfully alongside his face, erect and eager for attention. But with how many times he had been teased today, he doubted he would get what his body desired.
Ramsay wasted no time once he finally relented his assault on Theon’s mouth. Theon felt his lips throb tenderly as Ramsay licked down his chin, his throat, his neck, where he got distracted and bit into the skin there, pulling at it the way a dog might their favorite chew toy. Theon gripped the couch’s cushion until his knuckles turned white. The pain alone should have done a number on his libido. It may well have… If he hadn’t already been teased and tormented for so long.
After the other man was seemingly satisfied with the marks he left around Theon’s neck, he paid no mind to his chest or nipples. Instead, his attention was on Theon’s belly. He again raised the shirt blocking his view from what he really wanted to bestow affection upon, it seemed.
Considering the way he pushed his face into Theon’s— now more bloated than it had ever been before in his life, swelling out in an obvious, taut round bump— stomach with extreme enthusiasm. Hands holding the sides of it and petting sweetly.
A soft cry left Theon; his stomach twinged; it felt like rocks were digging in there as Ramsay nosed into him repeatedly. “I’ll throw up. Stop, please.”
There was no indication Ramsay heard him, other than eventually— with one last, long lick— he moved to Theon’s groin.
Theon held his breath, feeling Ramsay’s own breath ghosting across his member. He didn’t dare to—
His thoughts abandoned him when Ramsay licked broadly along the top of his cock. More teasing, not enough—his hips futilely tried to break free from Ramsay’s hold.
Meanwhile, the other man ignored his struggling in favor of gracing hot, affectionate kisses all down Theon’s length. Tongue occasionally making an appearance to lay rasping strokes onto the velvety skin.
Reaching the head, to Theon’s endless surprise, he took the appendage into his mouth immediately, drawing a quavering moan from Theon’s throat.
Ramsay used his mouth and tongue deftly to work Theon back up to the brink quicker than he thought possible. The other man hardened his tongue, using the pointed tip to dig into Theon’s slit, causing him to let out a loud whine and jerk his body as his balls drew up.
His climax struck him as if he’d been hit by lightning in the middle of a storm—blinding and utterly consuming as his insides flooded with fire. The constant pain in his stomach, however, would not allow him the full release he required; it weighed him down like an anchor and left him lethargic and sluggish in the aftermath while the other man swallowed all he had to give.
Ramsay completely disregarded Theon’s tiny, protesting mewls as he gripped the base of Theon’s oversensitive cock and continued suckling his fill from it. He seemed to derive his own pleasure from that alone, judging by the rock-hard member pushing into Theon’s leg through Ramsay’s jeans.
Attempting to squirm away accomplished nothing but the warning sensation of teeth pressing lightly into his dick. Theon froze, a concerned, overstimulated whimper stuttering out of him.
“Please, Ramsay,” he whispered, not even certain the other man could hear him—Theon was too terrified to speak any louder for fear of Ramsay’s reaction.
To his relief, Ramsay’s hand around Theon’s cock gradually released. Though he took his time pulling back; dragging his lips and continuing to roll his tongue along the softened member. As if he were savoring the taste.
The contact of his mouth on Theon’s dick at last came to an end with an obscene, wet sound. And the look in his eyes when they met his own was dark and bottomless as a shark’s, unreadable apart from the telling hunger burning within. In hindsight, Theon figured he should have been able to anticipate what came next.
Not that he could have predicted it even if given a hundred guesses to choose from.
With nothing more than a low, animalistic growl, Ramsay shifted his feet onto the couch and his body into a kneeling position. The move jostled Theon’s legs enough for him to cry out as a stabbing pain erupted in his calf.
Ramsay paid no attention to his discomfort, which was to be expected. What was not expected, however, was when he planted both of his wide knees beside Theon’s waist. Theon was slimmer than most men his age, and the couch was massive, and so it made it easy for Ramsay to get into position over him. The reverse would have been an impossible venture.
One of Ramsay’s palms was placed on the armrest beside Theon. The other—Theon’s eyes widened—was unzipping his fly and pulling out his already flushed, leaking cock. Ramsay let out a sharp, grunting sigh and stroked himself a couple of times.
“Wait, don’t.” The words ‘it will hurt’ and ‘will be too much’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he knew they’d have little effect—Ramsay was borderline incoherent when his excitement was at its peak.
Like it seemed to be right now as the other man grasped his hair in a tight fist and held Theon’s face close to his chest. He squirmed in the hold, feeling smothered in the supple flesh there; the air felt thick and humid all of a sudden. The size of Ramsay above him was like standing directly before a mountain in the moments that the sun descended behind its peaks—blocking the light and making him feel small and frail.
A panic tingled up the back of Theon’s neck like an icy spider; with Ramsay over him, ignoring his protests, his body screaming in discomfort… he was sharply reminded of waking up confused and in pain in an unfamiliar place. One minute he was on the couch, the next he was back in that hotel room.
Theon thrashed against Ramsay, fighting the discomfort in his gut to catch his breath; air refused to fill his lungs the way it was supposed to. But the wind cracked out of him swiftly after the first violent thrust into his stomach.
Another thrust, and another. It sent Theon’s system into an overwhelming state of dread. Yet he was powerless to do anything as the other man quickly set a punishing rhythm, grunting words above him that faintly reached Theon’s ears.
“Don't be so dramatic… Wouldn’t leave me wanting, would you?… How could I resist you after that show?” A guttural groan as his length dragged hot and heavy along Theon’s torso as Ramsay hunched over, wrapped possessively around him. The rutting began to ruck up Theon’s shirt so that the cock made direct, wet, leaking contact with his skin. That seemed to only excite Ramsay further; his pace quickened and his words came out even less coherent.
“Want you like this all the time… Filled with everything I give you… Only me.” A smile apparent in his voice as he whispered, “My dear little pet.”
Theon whimpered into Ramsay’s chest and tried to push his palms into the soft flesh. He had never been particularly religious, but he prayed to whatever god may be listening that this experience would be over soon. The flat out ignoring of his objections, he had come to expect—their interaction a few moments ago more than solidified it—but the burning deep in his stomach; the fullness being pushed at and prodded animalistically and without care… He was sure he would spew any second now.
His prayer was answered, it seemed, when moist breath singed across his scalp in a gusty exhale, tickling his hair the same moment that multiple gushing streams of fluid coated Theon’s belly. Theon stilled his struggles, his mind torn between revulsion, terror and shock.
Ramsay continued to grind against him through the aftershocks. It went on long enough that Theon began to wonder spitefully if he had exerted himself enough to pass out; no doubt he was full after eating his fill just before deciding to feed Theon. Knowing his gluttonous self.
Theon expected Ramsay to get off soon after and start cleaning him. But the other man seemed content for the moment to continue holding Theon, though stroking his hair now, soothing the stinging in his scalp from the earlier painful grip.
Only after Theon began to develop a chill and Ramsay’s spend had long grown tacky between them did Ramsay pull back to look down on him.
His eyes were bright and happy, his smile showing his deep satisfaction as he brushed Theon’s cheek with his thumb. Clearly, he was choosing to ignore Theon’s wet glare.
Theon had never so desperately wished that looks could kill.
“Get off of me.”
“Mmm…. No.” Ramsay settled more firmly into Theon’s thighs. “I like it right here.”
Gritting his teeth, Theon spoke without moving his lips. “Now.”
Through the haze of lingering pleasure, a hint of annoyance flared to life in Ramsay’s gaze. His thick fingers moved from Theon’s cheek to his chin, pinching with bruising strength. Theon valiantly did not allow the pain to show while he held the other man's stare.
“Are we not done teaching you manners?” Ramsay began, overly sweet as though speaking to a child. “I thought that our earlier lesson made an impression, but maybe—”
The chime of his phone in his back pocket interrupted whatever he’d been about to say.
Ramsay sighed dramatically and took it out to check his messages. He let out a hum of interest at whatever he saw. His eyes flicked up to Theon’s, a smirk on his lips. “Looks like we’ll need to put that off for now; I need to get ready for training. They'll be ready soon.”
Training… bulls.
As the other man released his chin and got off of him to stand by the couch, Theon muttered softly, angrily to himself, “Surprised they can even carry you… You almost crushed me.”
A harsh pinch on his cheek that made him hiss. Ramsay smiled patronizingly down at him. “Well, we can’t all be blessed with the bodies of prepubescent girls, can we?”
Theon frowned, yanking away from the grip. It wasn’t the first time the other man had made fun of or put down his body for how it looked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Deep down, he wondered why he would force him to consume more than his fill if he found him so frail. But maybe that was the point. He never put much stock in his ability to determine Ramsay’s reasoning.
With a shake of his head, Theon reached for his member, still exposed above his pants. The other man bent down without a word and brushed his hands away, tucking Theon’s cock back into his pants himself, patting his crotch affectionately after.
His eyes were mischievous as he straightened and said, “I take good care of my things.” He cut off Theon’s half-formed protest. “Speaking of; you’ll need to get yourself cleaned.”
Theon’s mouth gaped in disbelief for a handful of heartbeats before it snapped shut with a snarl on his lips. “So, I’m allowed to clean but not feed myself?”
“Very good,” Ramsay said mockingly. “You can learn some things after all.” Theon stared defiantly back at him, unmoving.
The other man raised a brow, his tone dropped and a slithering hint of irritation crept in. “And you’d better get on it—if I have to help you.” He smiled darkly. “I’ll be feeding that to you as well.”
The blood in Theon’s face receded at those words. Would Ramsay really? He had already pushed Theon past his limits in a number of ways today… Would he also force that indignity on him?
The answer was written clearly within the sinister look in those icy pools.
“Fine, I’ll clean it.” Theon hung his head, trying to avoid the sight smothered across his belly that had also made its way onto the cushions. The nausea he had been fighting rose up the back of his throat like a tidal wave; he had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Good boy,” Ramsay cooed, patting his head before exiting the space.
The sound of his steps echoed down the hallway.
Theon sniffed, rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist. There was a heaviness to his chest, as if it were weighted down by an anvil.
He wished with all his might that he were strong enough to tell Ramsay ‘no’ sometimes and mean it. To completely speak his mind and trust that the other man would listen. What’s the worst that could come from that?
The answer to that came in the form of a memory from one such instance. A memory he violently shoved away that had his broken leg twinging with phantom pain at the recollection.
It wasn’t as if he could go back with Robb either; he had already told his childhood friend that he wasn’t moving back into the place they shared together, so his friend had moved into another apartment with his new girlfriend. When Robb initially insisted that he come back, he had told his friend that he’d be fine.
And he was; for almost every belittling word or painful touch, there were also nights spent cuddled on the couch together, watching a movie. Times he was kissed sweetly all over and given tender affection instead of cruel care.
It didn’t mean anything that the harder moments were starting to outweigh the good.
With a repressed sigh, he gritted his teeth and heaved himself up.
As difficult as it was to hobble around and get out the cleaning supplies and climb the stairs to get a new shirt, he told himself he only did what he was told because he didn’t want to stay defiled. That he wouldn’t do it under normal circumstances.
He told himself that anyway.
Biting his lip against the pain radiating in his leg, he knelt on the floor and wiped the couch. And to fight back the tears he felt making a break for it from behind his eyes; Ramsay had hurt him before, sure. But he hadn’t done that.
Something about the act had felt like a violation. Maybe it was silly to think of it that way though. A part of him did enjoy the affection and attention to a degree. But to be treated like a… thing. Degraded physically and left to pick up the pieces after.
It felt wrong. Like something you wouldn’t do to your partner.
If you cared about them.
And so what if he sometimes enjoyed when Ramsay demeaned him in the middle of sex? That didn’t mean he always wanted to be… used. Did it?
I wanted this.
That was what he reminded himself whenever things got bad and he second-guessed his choices. He had chosen this. Chosen Ramsay over burdening his best friend with the consequences of his decisions. Not like Robb didn’t have a life of his own. Options and other things to worry about besides him. Why should any of this be his problem?
It’ll be better another day. And it likely would; Ramsay wasn’t always like this.
Just most of the time nowadays.
And that mantra was starting to count for less and less lately. Not bringing with it any of the comfort it once did. Theon felt his resolve weaken like a lone sapling before a rushing gale.
The tightness in his chest clenched all of a sudden, making it difficult to draw breath.
I wanted this…
His thoughts faded into the sounds of the cloth scrubbing against the leather, allowing him to lose himself in it.
I wanted this…
To the smell of the disinfectant stinging his nose.
I wanted…
To the sharp throbbing in his leg… and heart.
I want…