A Need to Suffer

Parallels

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Chapter 37

Parallels

The way Ramsay clung to Sansa resonated to her that he craved the warmth she shed upon him, and Sansa let Ramsay retreat into her for this much sought-after solace. In the wake of silence, Ramsay said nothing burying his head into Sansa's shoulder feeling a need to hide his face. He couldn't look her in the eye because even though she had disciplined him granting him exoneration of his deeds, the totality of the event coming to pass to begin with still adhered a stain of weighty shame upon him that Ramsay couldn't fully escape. Sansa only moved her hands in methodical slow circles soothingly up and down the fabric of Ramsay's dress shirt, a gesture meant to ensure to Ramsay that she was no longer upset and only wanted to comfort him. Oddly, this connection didn't feel awkward but inviting as the barriers between the two had been broken down to convene into this imparted moment. It was intangible, pure, and honest, and the harmony shared left an aura to reverberate like a breach of sunlight after a severe storm's passing.

Wanting Ramsay closer, Sansa drew one of her hands down to brace against his lower back and gently pulled Ramsay forward up her leg. Ramsay's back stiffened in automatic response to the pain the movement caused as he was quickly reminded just how full sore Sansa's hairbrush had made him. His backside was decorated with harsh raised welts that burned their presence be heeded, but other than a soft elicited grunt, Ramsay did not resist Sansa's advance to bring their torsos closer. Once Sansa had adjusted him, Ramsay let out a sigh of contentment relaxing into the feeling of being crushed against her having wanted this intimacy as much as Sansa.

Bringing his chin into the dip of her neck, Ramsay kissed her soft flesh appreciatively trailing from Sansa's neck down to the apex of her shoulder. Sansa reciprocated with a soft exhale of pleasure as she squeezed Ramsay affectionately to her. Tilting his head to lay comfortably on her shoulder, Ramsay nestled into Sansa enjoying the way their bodies melded into one another. Many of the candles had flickered out by now, and most of the room's light was cast by the crackling fire that danced shadows across the room. Ramsay's sights were drawn to the hearth penchant of the warmth it radiated alongside that which he now garnered from Sansa's embrace.

Staring into the flames, Ramsay's mind began to wander over the night's events marveling how it was that he came to be so dispossessed of his pride before Sansa yet still inwardly accepting of his recent place in the world. Sansa had settled something within him, calming his otherwise constant predilection to grasp for more than he'd otherwise been offered. Never would he have seen himself falling into a role where he bowed to anyone like he had chosen to do with Sansa, but much had changed him, and Ramsay had decided as long as he would be encompassed within the sentiments Sansa heaped upon him now, the humility he endured was a price worth paying. He was coming to understand what he most wanted from Sansa was something that she was more than willing to give him; he didn't have to fight tooth and nail to be loved by her, and this fact made him both puzzled and grateful to the kindness Sansa met his developing needs of her even when he'd so thoroughly disappointed her.

"Come; let's get you more comfortable," Sansa cooed lightly as she worked at the tassels cinching Ramsay's shirt. Ramsay shifted sitting up with a hiss as the underside of his ass rolled up to place his weight onto the firmness of Sansa's unforgiving thigh. Ramsay glowered on impact and Sansa chuckled at the sulk Ramsay afforded her playfully chiding him, "Don't look at me like that, Ramsay. It's not my fault you brought trouble upon yourself."

Ramsay soured further, but he had grown wise enough not to let the bitterness her comment provoked entice a negative retort. He instead exhaled his aggravation over his discomfort turning to look back at the fire and place his frown away from directing it at Sansa. Sometimes saying nothing was the best answer. Sansa did not rebuke Ramsay for having a bit of a bad attitude knowing that she was poking his sore ego to have said what she had. In response to his pout Sansa's mouth twisted into a small smirk finding his scowl amusing; she continued to silently work at the draw strings behind Ramsay until his dress shirt was loose enough for him to pull off.