Game of Thrones: Short stories.

The treasure of the Twins - Part 3 - Roose x Ramsay x Reader

Ramsay watched as (Y/n) stood at one of the windows in the great hall. The younger Frey watching as Roose and Walda walked together outside.

"I don't know why you are interested in my father. Don't you feel guilty about what you have done to your sister? How you have betrayed her? I heard the noises that were coming from your room last night. How you called out his name as he pleasured you." Ramsay said as he came up behind (Y/n). (Y/n) laughing softly as she turned to look at the man behind her.

"I think that you will find that I am interested in many men, many things. And you are not the one to talk to me about feeling guilt. Did you feel guilt when you went on your little hunting trips? Do you feel guilt when you flay the skin from a man's body? When you did what you did to Theon Greyjoy? No. Men like you and your father do not feel guilt. They thrive in the wicked things they do and make no apologies for it. And it is exactly that which makes me desire men like you and Roose. Men that know what they want and are willing to take it. I feel very little for my sister, and she is blissful in her ignorance. As long as she believes that I am not interested in her husband, then she will remain happy. And even though I might gladly take him to my bed, I have no desire to do anything more. Walda is still to be the mother of Roose's new legitimate heir. She has the title and position." (Y/n) began, as she moved to stand toe to toe with Ramsay. Her body pressed firmly up against his. A subtle smile creeping across her lips as she felt his cock harden. Her hand slowly inching down so that it was pressed over it. Ramsay moaning as she firmly rubbed the mound.

"And while we are speaking. How did you hear the noises that were coming from my room? How do you know that I was screaming out your father's name? I made a request with your father for a room that was far enough away from my sister so that I could escape her dull chatter. It would mean that you had to make the journey from your room in a different part of castle. Down the long dark corridors to my room, to stand outside my door for some time to hear all that you did. My guess is that you weren't far behind your father. That it was a quirk of fate that it was you outside the door listening in, not Roose listening to us. I think that all this talk of guilt is just to cover up the fact that you are jealous that I was screaming out your father's name, and not yours. But I assure you that I am perfectly willing to scream out your name as well." (Y/n) whispered, as her teeth gently nipped at the pale skin on Ramsay's neck. The bastard of Dreadfort finding that he could no longer restrain himself.

"Is this what you want?" Ramsay growled, as he forced (Y/n) up against the wall. His hand firmly wrapped around her throat as he pushed himself between her legs.

"You should be careful what you wish for, my lady. I am not my father. I will not be sweet and kind. I will take what I want, when I want, and how I want." Ramsay continued, as he pulled at the strings on his breeches. His engorged member rubbing on the inside of (Y/n)'s delicate thigh.

"I will tell you what I told your father last night as he fucked me mercilessly. I want you, all of you. Body and sinful soul. I want you to show me every cruel, wicked, evil little desire that your heart as ever had. Every lust filled dream, every dark forbidden need. I want it all." (Y/n) whispered, as she placed her hand over Ramsay's, making him grip her throat tighter.

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Roose walked through the corridors of Winterfell, believing that he had done his husbandly duty for the day. He had spent the last hour or so in the company of Walda, being as pleasant as he possibly could. He knew that he had got himself into this situation, that greed had clouded his judgement when it had come to his wife. But he couldn't help but also blame Walder. If (Y/n) had been at the Twins that day, Roose had convinced himself that it would have been her that he would have chosen, that he would be happy.

As he had listened to Walda drone on and on, all Roose had been able to think about was (Y/n). Her eyes, her face, her naked body as it writhed underneath him. The delightful sting of pain as she had dug her nails into the flesh of his back. The exquisite sounds of her moans as he took her again and again. The memory putting a spring in his step as he made his way to (Y/n)'s rooms.

Roose had every intention of repeating what had happened the night, every intention of persuading (Y/n) to stay. Every intention of persuading her that she needed only him. But as he entered her room, his eyes falling on (Y/n) and Ramsay, naked and in the throws of passion, Roose knew that he would have no choice but to share her with his son.

Roose banged the door angrily hoping that the sudden intrusion would bring a stop to scene before him. But all Roose saw was (Y/n) and Ramsay turn to look at him, a wicked smile on Ramsay's face as he made a point to push himself deeper into (Y/n)'s wanton flesh. The sounds of (Y/n)'s lust filled moans filling the room, as she continued to look at Roose.

Roose knew that he should turn around and leave, that he should return when he could have her all to himself. But she had told him that she wanted them both, would have both. And as (Y/n) held out her hand, beckoning the Lord of the Dreadfort over, Roose knew that she was going to get what she wanted. And he would more than happily give her exactly what she desired.

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Ramsay looked down at the woman that slept peacefully on his chest. Roose laid behind her, his arm wrapped tightly around (Y/n)'s waist as he too slumbered.

The time with (Y/n) had been an experience for both men. Ramsay never having felt such a thrill as when (Y/n) had pleasured both himself and his father. Not even flaying a man alive, not even his little hunting trips had filled him full of such exhilaration, such fire, such lust. And as the object of that exhilaration sighed in her sleep, Ramsay began to plot.

Why should he share (Y/n) with a man that had denied him for so long. A man that took great delight in always reminding him, and everyone else, that he was still nothing more than a bastard. Why should Roose be allowed to have (Y/n) when she should be his and only be his?

It was then that is came to him. A way that he could be the lord of Dreadfort, the lord of Winterfell. A way that he could have all the power he desired and share none of it with Roose. A way that he could be master of the north, and the master of (Y/n).

With a wicked smile, Ramsay settled back. His head resting into the pillow as he combed his finger through (Y/n)'s long hair. Her nails gripping into the skin of his chest as she murmured softly.

Ramsay would bide his time. He would share (Y/n) if he had to. But when the moment came, Roose, his bride, and their child, would fall by his hand. And everything, including the treasure of The Twins, would be his.