A Need to Suffer

Granted

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Granted

Ramsay found his eyes closing letting out a long exhale as he tried to unwind, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing over the knowledge that his belief on how the night would proceed was in no way going according to what he’d hoped and imagined. Why should he have ever expected as much? He groused inwardly, it wasn’t as if he’d ever gotten what he wanted on his terms, they were always on Sansa’s terms now; it was the fate he’d been given after his sorrowful defeat. His thoughts turned ever bitter as he silently continued to brood feeling a mix of unhappiness and self-pity. It was hard not to feel sorry for himself knowing that following what should have been a wonderful exploration of one another’s bodies turned into a pending sentence looming overhead. Ramsay wanted to set these emotions aside and enjoy his time here and now, but the very idea of what was to come was niggling at him to a point he could think of nothing else.

Sansa must have taken note of the sour look he held as he felt her take hold of his ankle giving him a rough tug that had Ramsay gasp, eyes flaring open in surprise, as both arms flailed to grab the sides of the tub to make sure the force of her yank didn’t pull him under water. Sansa stated tightly, “Stop it.”

Ramsay’s eyebrows knitted together as he gave Sansa an incredulous glare, “What? I wasn’t doing anything!” Sansa fixed him with a glare of her own clipping back, “You know very well what I’m referring to; you’re sitting over there all doom and gloom as if you hadn’t brought this on yourself, Ramsay. If you feel no contrition than I’ll have to doubly ensure that you do. I have already told you that if you cannot let it go so that we may enjoy ourselves here and now, then perhaps I need to take care of your punishment first.”

Sansa clasped the edges of the tub orienting herself to rise, and as she began lifting herself from the waters, Ramsay’s hand shot out to clutch her wrist as he cried out, “No!” His eyes had grown feral and anxious, and realizing he had a hold over her wrist, and she was staring down at him dangerously, Ramsay retracted his hand as if her flesh had burned him, “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you!” His stare was imploring her to halt, and Sansa found herself heeding to the vulnerability that she saw within his expression. Ramsay continued hurriedly having gotten her full attention, “I’m having a hard time relaxing knowing you’ve plans to harm me right after any pleasure we share!”

“Hurt you, yes, but I’ll not harm you,” Sansa interjected, and Ramsay’s expression turned from apprehensive to puzzled as he shouted, “What’s the difference?” Sansa used the leverage she held on the sides of the tub to drift her body closer to Ramsay’s landing her knees on either side of his inner thighs as Ramsay involuntarily scuttled backwards to press his frame up fully against the tub’s back clinging to the walls tightly as she continued to bring her face nearer. She walked her knees forward securing Ramsay in place before releasing her own hold on the sides of the tub. She leaned forward cupping his face gently on either side of his jaw to draw Ramsay closer until their faces were inches apart.

Ramsay shifted jerkily wholly unsure of what his mild defiance may have cost him; her advancement worried him now that she may be becoming increasingly peeved with his recent boldness which didn’t bode well for him Ramsay was sure. What did her statement even mean? Her terminology landed upon his ears like that of a foreign language. To Ramsay, pain and suffering were all a part of the same dynamic, and this bleeding line of care interlaced with giving pain still threw him for a mental loop. When he looked into Sansa’s eyes, they were unreadable other than to compare her to a predator cornering its prey, but that was more the impression Ramsay comprehended over any particular expression she gave. Sansa wasn’t lashing out against him or giving Ramsay a cruel smirk to taunt him further, instead she kissed his forehead lightly stating in a half whisper, “It makes all the difference, Ramsay.”