Work Text:
It happened when he was fifteen, and she was a smith's daughter. She was cock-eyed, and it hadn't unnerved him until they were finished and she began giggling. He had laughed too and then asked what was the jape, and she had blushed and said, "It's always over so fast the first time."
Every time after, it was always the same. Ramsay Snow - and it would always be Snow, wouldn't it? - was left feeling like the losing party; it started as a dull shame that grew sharper the more he remembered the details. Their eyes and lips and tits and his own hands and the worst part was knowing that you wanted something - anything - that bad.
It was natural that he would hate Theon Greyjoy.
The first time they met, Theon looked at Ramsay the way Ramsay wished he could look at women. It was barely a glance, and then it was over... and it wasn't. It lingered there unbidden and would resume suddenly as he drifted to sleep; Ramsay resolved that those blue-grey eyes would never dare to look at him again with such ease, and would not dare to look anywhere else at all. There's more than one way to become a notorious lover.
He knew, objectively, that Theon was ruined. The man Ramsay met in Winterfell had thick dark hair and bright eyes and a smile like five glasses of wine. The man Ramsay enjoyed fucking on an almost daily basis had white hair and a thousand-mile stare, and no smile left at all. And somehow all that wreckage was what turned him on more than anything, the feeling of ribs and scar tissue, the name... "Reek."
He'd never been with a man before, a deviance too rank probably for even his father's taste. It started as curiosity, disguised as an humiliation: Ramsay reaching a hand down the front of Reek's breeches and grabbing his manhood, working it to hardness while Reek's eyes stared straight through Ramsay's and out the back of his skull, out the walls of the Dreadfort and through the trees beyond.
"Look at me, my Reek," he said softly, and then with an edge, "Reek, look at me or I'll cut off your eyelids."
That night was he lay in bed, Ramsay closed his eyes and felt his own cock, trying to imagine it as though it were not his, to feel if it was somehow different.
It escalated quickly. Ramsay discovered that unlike women - whose cunts were invariably dry and tight with fear - he could bring men - or at least Reek - to climax, even as he was starved, beaten, mutilated. It delighted him to watch Reek's pleasure mingle with his hatred of his own broken, traitorous body. For a moment, pleasure won out and a small whimper of release would fill the dim, stony chamber, and then a silence in which Ramsay could feel the truth re-seating itself inside Reek's brain. And that was the best part.
"Please, Lord Bolton, let me."
It had been going so well, really.
On this particular night, he took Reek as always - on his hands and knees, from behind. His hand was fisted in Reek's brittle hair, his eyes focused on those missing fingers that made it difficult for Reek to brace himself steadily. It occurred to Ramsay that he had never seen his pet's face as he was being fucked, and that he had been depriving himself of what was undoubtedly a lovely expression of pain. With one arm - for the poor thing really was so frail now - he flung Reek onto his back.
It was not what he had hoped at all.
Reek's eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering and his fingers pressed lightly at his own throat.
"Robb..."
It was so soft that Ramsay couldn't be sure he'd even heard it. But he couldn't be sure he'd heard anything else.
"What did you say?"
Reek's eyes shot open. Ramsay watched the pupils contract and then dilate.
"I... I didn't mean-"
Reek winced as Ramsay grasped him underneath the jaw.
"What. Did. You. Say?"
"I said, 'R-Robb.'"
Ramsay increased the pressure on Reek's windpipe and threw as much force behind his thrusts as he could.
"He fucked you like this, your dead direwolf?"
"N-no. Never like this."
Tears began to spill down Reek's temples, leaving streaks of filth like crows' feet. Ramsay smirked and pressed his cheek to his pet's face.
"Beg me to stop," he whispered, and bit down hard on the place where Reek's neck met his shoulder.
"Please...."
"Please what?" Ramsay reached his hand between them, wrapped his fingers around Reek's cock.
"Please just kill me."
"Do you think you'd be with him again, if I did?"
Reek's eyes went to the place beyond the woods.
"Would you feel those soft lips again? Those blue eyes gazing down at you while you beg and moan like a whore?"
The sensation of Reek's hand pressed against his chest almost shocked Ramsay. Reek's back arched and his seed covered Ramsay's knuckles.
Ramsay waited for that moment he loved, where Reek's eyes suddenly came into focus again and the whole world fell in on them.
"You're fucking disgusting," he growled as he came.
"I know."
***
The more Ramsay thought about it, the more furious it made him. He could hardly bear to look at Reek - his Reek. It wasn't that he'd been deluding himself that his plaything was actually enjoying the things Ramsay did to him. It wasn't even that he thought he was the first man to... although it was surprising that he'd let himself be taken by a man. (Proud, Ironborn Theon Greyjoy filled with cum like a common slattern! The thing that gnawed at him was the fact that all this time he thought he'd been meting out a punishment, while Reek had been using it as a respite, had practically been escaping Ramsay. There was no feeling half so sickening to Ramsay as the feeling of being deceived.
It was five days before he returned to Reek's cell. He'd found that the more time Reek spent without him, the more absolutely terrified and devoted he was when Ramsay finally did unlock the door and cast some torchlight over that sunken, battered face. He would touch Reek gently, and Reek would lean into the touch, but still trembling, still waiting for that knife. (Ramsay hadn't taken any skin in months, but he still flashed that blade every so often, just to relish Reek's animal fear.)
"Did you miss me, my Reek?"
Reek nodded and tilted his mouth into a thing that might pass for a smile if you had never met the man Reek used to be,
"Have you been thinking about me?"
"I think about you all the time, my lord."
Ramsay smirked and touched Reek's hand. "I wager you do."
He locked the door again behind him and there was a moment of quiet, the kind of quiet filled with rats and running water somewhere nearby. Aside from the torch he'd brought in, the only light was from the moon; it passed through the tiny, barred window and fell onto Reek's snow-white hair. Like a ghost, Ramsay thought.
"How may I be of service to you, Lord Bolton?"
Ramsay paused, taking care to measure his voice so that it was not apparent how consumed he'd been by the question.
"Was Robb Stark the only man you've ever been with?"
Reek reached toward him, pressed the heel of his palm against the laces of Ramsay's breeches.
"Let's not talk about him, my lord."
"Believe me, I don't want to." Ramsay stifled a moan as Reek added pressure and began to loosen Ramsay's shirt. He caught Reek's hand, twisted it painfully. "Tell me."
Reek looked down. "Besides you, my lord, yes. He is... was. But it was nothing-"
"You know what happens when you lie to me, Reek."
"Yes, my lord."
Ramsay held Reek at arm's length and looked him up at down.
"Do you think he'd still fuck you, in this condition?"
"No."
Ramsay chuckled. He bit his lip and returned Reek's hand to its work at his laces.
"I don't imagine there's anyone in the Seven Kingdoms that would treat you half as well as I do."
"No. I'm lucky you found me."
Reek licked his hand wetly and began stroking Ramsay's cock. He heard his master's breath hitch slightly.
"Were you always... did you always act the woman?"
He sensed Reek's wariness and behind it, so faintly, a condescension. He wasn't quite sure why he was pressing the subject any further. Reek kept his eyes downcast and ran his thumb between Ramsay's hip and the soft, dark hair that surrounded his member.
"Yes, my lord, although I wouldn't compare the two," he said cautiously.
Ramsay's favorite thing about kissing Reek was running his tongue along the places where teeth should've been and feeling the sharp, pained inhale that followed. For his part, Reek never reciprocated; he only opened his mouth and closed his eyes.
"You're going to show me."
Reek froze, his hand stilled and Ramsay could feel the hair rising on his pet's arms.
"You want me to-" Reek's hands dropped to his sides where they began to wring at the shredded hem of his shirt. "You want me to- why?"
Ramsay felt a heat swell in his chest. "What happened the last time you asked me 'why' about something?"
Reek looked down, shuffled his feet. "You skinned my toe and left it that way."
"For how long?"
"Three days." His voice was hardly above a whisper, which soothed Ramsay. He grabbed Reek by the hair and pulled their faces together, noses just touching. Reek's eyes were wide and unseeing.
"So when I say you're going to fuck me, you say...?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"And I'm going to enjoy it."
"Of course." Reek swallowed.
"And it would be excessive of me to mention that if at any point and for any reason, I so much as think of Robb Stark's rotting corpse, I will make you wait a week for me to cut off your foot."
Reek nodded and bit his lip, which was an expression Ramsay couldn't remember seeing before, and when he hungrily pulled his pet in for a kiss, he felt Reek surge forward. His tongue filled Ramsay's mouth and Ramsay had to choke back a whine when an especially jagged piece of tooth tugged at his bottom lip. Reek reached for his master's boots and began fumbling the laces. Ramsay noticed his fingers were shaking almost uncontrollably. He thought about commenting, but decided he'd rather just hurry it along. Reek's tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he concentrated, which, again, Ramsay was not sure he had seen before, and which was a habit he'd been teased about as a boy. Reek might've told him that it was a face he still made when focusing on a very precise task.
The breeches followed the boots into a pile on the floor. Reek ran his clammy fingers over Ramsay's knees and along the insides of his thighs. He reached a hand up, tentatively toward Ramsay's face. Ramsay pulled away, but Reek only took his earring between his thumb and forefinger and turned it thoughtfully, as though it were something he'd wanted to do before.
"How do you want it?" he asked, still staring just to the side of Ramsay's face.
Ramsay's cheeks were starting to feel hot.
What in Seven Hells are you doing, bastard?
Reek's left hand was wrapped around Ramsay again, his right hand snaked under his own waste-band.
And why indeed?
"I will not be fucked like a dog," he snapped, more at himself than at Reek. "I want to see your face."
Reek nodded and pressed his fingers against the smooth space beneath Ramsay's balls. "It will.... it will be painful without any oil."
Ramsay snorted. "Have you not noticed how I feel about pain?"
"Very well." He placed a hand in the center of Ramsay's chest and pushed him back towards the cot until Ramsay was reclined onto his elbows. Reek knelt and dropped a few dry-lipped kisses along his master's thighs until his tongue reached-
Oh...
By the time Reek's cock entered him, Ramsay felt like he might be losing his mind. He was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open, and he wondered if Reek had been feeling even a fraction of this pleasure the whole time.
Reek moved slowly at first, gently and with that damn pointed tongue still tucked into the corner of his mouth. His eyes never left Ramsay's face, searching there for any sign of pain, not finding it but still searching. Ramsay was disturbed, in a detached sort of way, that of the two of them, he was the one with the least control.
"Are you enjoying this, my lord?"
Ramsay's eyes were closed, but he grinned wickedly. "Aren't you?"
"I- I am."
It was a lie, but Ramsay was too far gone to care.
"I want- oh Gods -I want you to say something!"
"Say something?"
"I want you to say something vile to me."
"I have no idea what a man like you would consider vile."
"The truth is usually vile enough."
Reek leaned down until he could feel Ramsay's hot breath on his face. Reek deepened his thrusts until Ramsay cried out and he knew he was hitting that spot. He gripped Ramsay's cock, so flushed with blood that it was nearly purple, and then he whispered hoarsely, "The truth is that you have soft lips and a tight ass and the next time you tie me up on that fucking cross, I'm going to be thinking about the way your face looks right this very instant."
Ramsay's eyes rolled back and his entire body shook.
"Theon..."
Reek halted. He felt his own orgasm washing over him, distantly. That name. That name as it sounded coming from another man's lips, almost but not quite the same. Theon had belonged to Robb, and Robb was dead and Theon was a name with no need to be spoken.
Ramsay's eyes opened suddenly, sharp and cold as ever and the word seemed to echo there in the room. Reek had tucked himself back into his trousers. He pulled his tunic over his head and used it to wipe the mess off Ramsay's chest and from between his thighs. Ramsay seemed distraught as he eyed Reek's sunken chest, ran a finger from scar to scar to scar. He stood and felt the filth of the floor beneath his feet and it was as though the universe had just righted itself. He looked down into those tremulous eyes and saw himself there.
Ramsay put his fingers beneath Reek's chin and tilted his face upwards. He could read nothing into Reek's expression, and felt a pang of anger. A small, humorless smirk tugged at the corner of Ramsay's mouth. "You know, Reek, for a moment I mistook you for someone else."
Reek clutched his sticky shirt to his chest as though he had any humility left.
"I don't know who else I could be."
Ramsay said nothing but swiftly re-dressed himself and left, giving only a thoughtless, backward glance before closing the door and leaving Reek there in the dark once again.
***
It was an unbearably still night, and when Ramsay finally did fall asleep, he found himself back in Winterfell, walking through the dungeons there and looking for the cell he knew as his. The door was open slightly, and inside he heard familiar voices. He entered and the first thing he saw was Robb Stark's face. It was Robb Stark, on his hands and knees, but with skin the color of ash and stuck full of arrows and spilling blood endlessly from a hole in his chest. It was pooling along the stones in the floor and Ramsay had to step aside it.
"Ah... fuck.... Theon..."
And Theon was not quite Theon either. His hair was white. He gripped the arrows that jutted out from Robb's shoulder and sides, pulling on them for leverage and Ramsay could see that he was missing some fingers. His body had filled out again with muscle, but when that roguish grin crossed his face, some of the teeth were missing.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"I don't think this can go on much longer."
Theon locked eyes with Ramsay as leaned forward betwixt the arrows and whispered loud enough for him to hear, "It's always over so fast the first time."
***
Ramsay bolted upright in bed, his back slippery with sweat and his cock achingly hard. He reached tentatively for it, then flinched.
"You're such a fool," he said aloud, almost a shout.
Still in his bedclothes, he fumbled through his weaponry and then made his way down through the Dreadfort. As he passed the two men guarding the dungeons, he felt a glance pass between them, but when he spun around, their eyes remained fixed ahead.
"Come with me," he ordered. "I need you to hold him."
Ramsay unlocked the door, for he trusted no one but himself with a key to this particular treasure. He recoiled at the smell - the thick stench of piss and shit and sex. He was amazed that he hadn't even noticed it that evening. The rats scattered away from the torchlight that filled the tiny space. Reek slept on the floor, still fearful of the cot, as he was fearful of all other comfort or kindness. He used his soiled tunic as a pillow and Ramsay could hear his breathing, shallow and raspy.
Reek let out a startled yelp as Ramsay's boys seized his limbs and spread him out on the floor. His eyes came into focus first on Ramsay's face, which bore an expression he had never seen before and which frightened him more than he could've imagined. And then he saw the hooked blade in his master's hand.
Tears were streaming down his face, but his voice was even when he asked, "Why can't you kill me?"
Ramsay knelt over his pet, ran a finger through that lovely hair.
"Because then you'd be with him," he replied softly, indifferent now to the stares that he knew his men were exchanging. "And I would be alone without a soul to care for."
Reek closed his eyes as his trousers were torn away and a single sob escaped his chest.
"Look at me, my Reek."
Reek opened his eyes. Ramsay pressed a kiss just between them.
"I promise this will be over fast. And it will only happen once."