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His old chambers at Winterfell were as much a childhood bedroom as his chambers at Pyke had been, no matter how many bastards he had spilled in this very bed. (He’d never put another child in a woman now, bastard or otherwise, he reflected mournfully. He had much mourning to do, as of late.) For Ramsay to strip his servant and take his pleasure in this bed was intentional, malicious; as were most things he enjoyed.
“Have you saved yourself for me, my little creature?” Ramsay whispered into Reek’s neck, his breath hot and stinking. The feeling of his clothed prick hard against Reek’s back, though not unfamiliar, still sent a wave of disgust through his body.
Reek nodded frantically, clenching his jaw as Ramsay thumbed at a tender knot of scar tissue, “Yes m'lord, m-my…” he trailed off, attention diverted by the feeling of Ramsay’s palm caressing the mangled remains of his cock. Ramsay’s other arm was wrapped tightly around Reek’s chest, and his boney, remaining fingers were hooked gently over it. This intimacy made him feel so ill, he hadn’t been held like this since he was a very young child. Reek has never known a love other than this, he reminded himself.
“Your what, Reek?” Ramsay spat.
“My- my maidenhead, it’s yours, m'lord,” Theon would’ve died with the shame of it, Reek thought, but there are much worse things than death.
Reek could feel Lord Ramsay smile behind his ear. This one was a practiced lie. It was always easier with things like this, where he knew what Ramsay wanted to hear.
“Open up,” Ramsay instructed.
Knowing what he wanted, Reek sucked the spit from his cheeks and let it pool on his tongue, but before he could drop his jaw Ramsay huffed with annoyance and pried Reek’s mouth open, pushing two long, pudgy fingers into his throat and forcing a gag from him. He prodded at the soft, bruised gaps where teeth once were, digging an overgrown, thick fingernail into the cusp of gum and tooth. His skin tasted of sweat and dirt. He spread his second and third fingers slightly and swept them widely from the back of Reek’s tongue to his lips, dragging a puddle of stringy spit and phlegm with him. This was no small mercy, as far as Reek was considered, though he could feel his gorge burning at his clavicle from the treatment to the back of his throat, and Ramsay had embedded his salty, human taste into each crevice of Reek’s mouth.
Ramsay ran his spit-slicked fingers over the soft, flush slit of skin between Reek’s cunt-mound and arsehole, his touch on the edge of gentle. Ramsay hadn’t figured out how to stick his cock in the smooth, white, warped flesh just yet, and for that, Reek was thankful.
Reek got all the warning he expected when Ramsay suddenly forced his middle finger through the tight muscle of his arse, excruciating still, with the spit drying in the cold, northern air. His ring finger followed shortly after, the digits bending and splitting with no care taken to pleasure or theatrics, as he was utilitarian only in things he had little patience for.
Ramsay removed the fingers from his servant and spat loudly into the center of his palm before reaching over Reek's shoulder, silently demanding he do the same. The saliva was frothy where it spread in the folds of Ramsay’s fleshy, red palm. Reek pulled snot-thickened spit to the front of his remaining teeth and let it drip into the puddle, where it broke the bubbles of Ramsay’s froth. Ramsay pulled his hand back and wet himself indulgently before lining his cock up with Reek’s arsehole. A soft, sweet, noise escaped the back of his throat as he pushed into his servant; it was so uncharacteristically delicate, Reek may have found it pretty in another lifetime, drawn from a woman beneath him.
“I should like to put a Bolton in your womb, Reek,” he sighed, delirious, his voice cracking. He pinched the minuscule tissue surrounding Reek’s nipples, “watch your tits get large, your belly grow heavy with my son,” he lowered his hands and groped Reek’s ribs, hard. He's going to crack my ribs, Reek thought — hoped — for just a moment, he’s going to puncture my lungs on the bone fragments. Oh, it would be a blessing to drown in blood.
He didn't though, just slid his hands over the swollen bump of Reek’s stomach.
“Would you like that, my creature?”
“Yes m'lord,” Reek writhed against Ramsay a little, hoping to speed the process up, “I want to carry your child.”
“Very well,” Ramsay said, his voice lilting with a smile, you have pleased your lord. Reek’s head was smashed into the furs of his bed which smelled of animal and leather and home and ash, and when Ramsay yanked him back by the hair the air around him smelled sweet like snow and his brothers and bone and ash. It’s all ash in the end, thought Reek as Ramsay’s prick pulled impatiently at his insides, a terrifying twist of pleasure fluttering through his gut on each hit of Ramsay’s stomach fat to his sharp tailbone, all of it, reduced to ash.
Ramsay leaned over and pressed his chest to Reek’s back, the feeling of his finery against Reek’s cold skin making him suddenly entirely too aware of his own nakedness as compared to his master, and the terrible chill Autumn had set in Winterfell’s old stones. Maybe he'll let me freeze to death. Ramsay put his warm lips to Reek’s ear.
“You stink of piss,” he breathed into Reek’s coarse, thin hair.
“I’m sorry, m'lord.”
“You’re no man, are you Reek?”
“No, m'lord.”
He fucked him languidly then, snaking his arm around Reek to indulge in his scarred cunt-mound, and though an orgasm had been building like dread in Reek’s intestines, when a soft touch to the hypersensitive flesh surrounding his urethra shoved him over the edge the pain-pleasure ripping through his groin caught Reek entirely off-guard. His muscles contracted and loosened in waves and he weakly gripped the soft fat of Ramsay’s upper arm as he was fucked through his orgasm. Ramsay pulled him off the bed and dragged his fingers through the thin, sheer fluid Reek had leaked onto himself. He brought the digits to his mouth and stuck a dirty, yellow-pink tongue out, sampling the cum.
He giggled darkly, “You're no man at all.”
Ramsay spent himself mercifully quickly after that, groaning into Reek’s neck and spilling his seed with a shudder.
He threw Reek to the bed, smiling and sated, his cum warm where it slid from Reek’s arsehole. He gathered it back onto his fingers and fucked it further into Reek’s body.
“There’s my son, Reek,” he stifled a laugh behind his soiled hand, pausing a second and looking down at his servant before turning his head away and laughing again, as if the sight was too funny to behold, “no man at all,” he insisted once more, canines flashing yellow in the candlelight.
And Reek said nothing, for there was nothing more to be said.