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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 5.

Summary: The morning after the night before, and you’ve no idea what Ransom is going to greet you…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 5 to my submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Recently my original partner Southerngracela left Tumblr, and as such I’m going it alone based on our notes and planned plot for this series. I hope I do it justice.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 4

You woke the next morning, a warm feeling coursing through your body but with a deep ache in your cheek which was laid against a naked pectoral, as you had clearly shifted in your sleep during the night. Your left hand was resting upon a very naked and warm torso with well-defined abs, while a heavy arm draped over your equally naked body; across your shoulder and down your back, a large hand splayed over your hip, fingertips barely grazing the edge of the sheet which settled itself just below pelvic bones.

As you blinked the sleep from your system, your barely conscious mind began to register exactly who you were cuddling up to. Your captor, the man who’d abused you and held you hostage for the past few months and you swallowed as your mind flooded with memories of the previous night and everything that had happened to the point of escalation and his return. He returned to you a completely different person, broken almost, a far cry from the stoic, cold asshole persona that he did his best to project to the world and you…well, you’d felt sorry for him.

You saw regret, for the first time ever, etched across his face, behind red, saddened and tired eyes. You were cautious, not forgiving, but cautious. You’d empathised, and moreover, you’d seen a chink in his armour that you’d exploited. Whilst he was in that raw, stripped bare state (both figuratively and metaphorically) you’d seized your chance. You’d taken the upper hand.

And now, you were struggling to comprehend exactly how you felt about it.

Despite the ache in your cheek and pain in your knee, your heart waged a war against the reality of your situation. For the first time in two, nearly three months, you felt differently towards him and that scared you. No, it terrified you. Had Ransom just been hiding behind his pain and fear, putting forth the beast before the man?

The memory of how he made you feel the previous night flooded behind your fluttering eyes and you felt a stir within, as if your feminine nature craved him unlike before. But your mind kept saying now, stay logical. Don't be part of the hunt, be part of the chase. But really, what were you chasing? You didn't know.

As if to curb that craving, you stretched out like a cat finding its patch of sunlight on the floor. And almost as if he reacted to your movement, he gave one of his own, his back arching a little as he jostled you on his chest, a deep sigh leaving his system as he gave a low rumble of contentment.

"Morning," you heard him speak above your ear. His voice was deep and raspy, sleep riddled. It made your stomach flutter and your thighs instinctively clench.

You sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up your body to cover yourself a bit more. Then you turned towards Ransom, your better cheek facing him. "Hi," you spoke softly.

"C'mere," he said, gently reaching for your forearm to pull you back into him.

You were stopped short of completely covering him, your hair falling over your left side and as he tucked the obstructing strand behind your ear, his thumb caught your cheek and you hissed. He noticed it immediately and his eyes grew sorrowful. He pulled you to his lips, kissing you softly, slowly before he pulled away and sat up, kicking his legs over the side of the bed and standing, his naked body on display.

You weren't in denial of the Adonis before you, but underneath the God-like physique and piercing blue eyes, still lurked a Demon waiting for his next opportunity to seize his moment. He turned to you and leaned on his hands, palms flat, against the mattress.

"I'll be right back," he said softly, as he leaned in again for a gentle kiss before slipping into his boxers and leaving you.

Ransom headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time emerging into the airy, well-lit hallway. He strode purposefully into the kitchen, running one hand through his sleep mussed hair, yawning slightly as he scratched at his bare chest with the other before he reached down to the front of his expensive boxers and rearranged the crotch of the fabric to make it slightly more comfortable.

The night he'd had was nothing short of amazing, mind blowing even. In fact, he'd go as far as to say like no other, how he felt, how he'd made her feel, hearing her call out his name more than once. But nothing, nothing was like the sound of his name across her lips for the first time. He felt his chest swell at even the slightest flicker of a memory, his skin blushing.

But now, outside of his general reason for coming up to the main part of the house, Ransom was confused, unsure and uncharacteristically nervous. Riddled with guilt, he sought out ice and the first aid kit.

He headed to his bathroom upstairs and collected the items he needed; rubbing alcohol, swabs and bandages. Then he headed down and into the kitchen, bare feet making their way across the cold floor. He took a dish towel and pulled some cubes from the freezer and twisted the ends together, creating a pouch. Then with the items in hand, he headed back to Y/N.

It didn't go amiss that she hadn't moved from the exact spot he'd left her in minutes ago. He took note of her watching every move he made, each step he took, the twitches of his muscular frame and stare of his eyes. Her eyes watched him, suspicion reflecting in her stare. He sighed."You still don't trust me, Sweetheart?"

"I don't know." She whispered hesitantly. "It's.... complicated."

There it was again, her doubt in him. He looked her over and even in the dull light of the room, he could see the destruction on her face. The way the discoloring of her skin filtrated from her defined and now split cheek bone to her stunning eye, marking her for what he could assume would be a good couple of weeks. The split skin had started to scab but was no doubt painful and puffy even under the bruising. It looked angry and tender. Pain and regret filled his eyes as he felt them mist slightly. Leaning closer as he stood by the side of the bed, his thumb traced over the broken skin gently as if by touch he'd heal her.

“Yeah, I suppose it is." He dropped down onto the bed next to her and handed over the ice pack. "Here..."

"Thank you," she winced as she held the ice to her cheek, sitting with her left leg covered and the sheet pulled up to her chest.

He looked her over, looking for anything else amiss. Then he saw the scrape across her right knee. Her exposed leg was bent there at the joint. Ransom gently took her ankle and pulled her close, propping the leg over his thighs.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered, looking at the scrape and applying an alcohol swap. She hissed at the way it burned and Ransom's first instinct was to gently blow on the stinging skin.

"Are we just talking about yesterday?"

He stopped the gentle blowing and sighed, dropping his head a little. "Does it matter?”

"Not really, it's not like I'm going to go anywhere either way, is it, Ransom?" She swallowed.

She called him by his name again, sending chills and flutters through him like a school boy with a hard crush. He swallowed hard and took her wrist holding the ice, "let me see."

She obliged, letting him pull her hand away as his other reached up and tilted her face round. She blinked a little, her eyes not leaving his face as he took a deep breath and his hand dropped down to the bed. He nodded at the ice. "Put that back on, it'll help with the swelling."

"Okay," she agreed, doing as he asked. They were in a limbo of sorts. He didn't know what to do, but he felt an unfamiliar, unnerving desperate need to be with her.

And the silence was nerve wracking.

The ice began dripping into your hand and trailing down your forearm. You pulled the pack away and handed it back to Ransom. "I... I need to shower, just take a few minutes to uh, freshen up.”

Ransom nodded, his fingers gently brushing yours as he took the pack off you. "Sure” He nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen, come up when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You agreed, with a single nod of your head.

Easing your legs out of the sheets you stood up, your limbs feeling a little stiff from the previous evening’s activities and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked into the bathroom, no doubt taking in how your backside looked. The remnants of the night before were still strewn about the tiled floor, and you sighed before you turned on the shower.

As the water warmed, you gathered yourself to gaze at your reflection. Surely your cheek was worse off than the night before. And a glance confirmed it were. A deep bruising shade of purple was working its way from your cheek bone to just under your eyes, a scab where the skin had broken had formed. You didn't want to see anymore. You climbed into the shower and allowed the heat of the water to relax your sore muscles.

You ached in a way that you hadn't in a long while. The way you knew you could after all nerves fired in pleasure and tingled your skin. Last night was interesting to say the least. It was the first time you felt anything outside of deep, gnawing despair. It was obvious that Ransom thought he had won, that you had given in. You had control of the situation nearly from the start, and it had felt good, so, so good. He'd called you baby and it made you shudder in... delight, so much so you’d called him Ransom, breathlessly moaning it as a pleasure coursed through you that you didn't try to stop or deny.

You didn't protest, you didn't fight back. You’d wanted it. And then, that warm feeling of him letting go inside you, filling you, and the look on his face as he did so, well you were shivering at the thought.

The question was, now what? Where do you go from here? You weren't stupid, freedom wasn't an option. But, there could be a bit more for you to work with. Nodding to yourself, knowing how to at least start, you shampooed your hair, inhaling and getting lost in its scent. Autopilot kicked in and you finished your shower, eventually stepping back into your room, wrapped in a towel.

You sorted through your wardrobe, deciding on a pair of dark washed jeans, one could say fit like a glove over your legs and hips, drawing your body in sharp curves and lines, pairing it with a black satin camisole and burgundy cardigan. You toweled your hair off more, collecting the remaining heavy water droplets in the terrycloth fabric and went to hang it back up on the hook in the bathroom. You noticed Ransom's clothes and items from the night before were gone from where they were discarded and no other remnant of him remained other than the distinct smell of him on your sheets and throughout your bed. Taking a look in the mirror, you replaced the butterfly closure bandaid on your cheek and dabbed some face cream gently around your bruise. You sorted your hair, brushing through it but leaving it to dry on its own, a hair tie now on your wrist in case you needed it. You took your time getting dressed and cleaned up, tossing your sheets around to make your bed and tidy up. It was obvious you were making him wait, and that was okay with you. You didn't know exactly what awaited you in the kitchen, which Ransom you'd get, but so far, the version of the man that took you seemed to remain far behind.

After accepting you’d stalled as much as you could, you took a deep breath and headed up the stairs emerging into the well-lit, yet cold hallway and made your way through to the large kitchen. Ransom turned from where he had been filling up the coffee machine and his gaze flicked over your appearance before he met your eyes and his mouth twitched up at one side into a small, yet noticeable smile.

"What can I make you?" You asked softly, treading unevenly in your thoughts as they echoed in word around the room.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “Come, sit.” He was now dressed, casually in a Henley and casual pants. His hair tossed back and from where you stood you could smell that distinct smell he had even over the freshly brewing coffee. You pulled at the sleeves of your cardigan as you stepped one bare foot in front of the other to take your seat at the breakfast table as directed.

Ransom placed a mug of coffee down in front of you, which you thanked him for, and he took a seat at the table, as you took a sip of your drink. A silence fell over the room, and as you watched him in the corner of your eye you could see his fingers flexing round his mug.

But he was the one that broke the stalemate, clearing his throat slightly as he shifted in his seat. "I thought, maybe, we could order in?" He offered. "I... I can call the bakery that does the almond croissants you've come to like? Or if you'd prefer breakfast sandwiches I can get those?"

The words came as a nervous ramble from him, and you could tell he had no idea how to navigate this new situation you both found yourselves in any more than you did. You quickly realized that Ransom Drysdale didn't know how to navigate "the morning after".

“I, errr…" You began to speak and he shook his head.

“You don’t want those? Okay, that’s…”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” You took a deep breath before you licked your lips. “I'm just not hungry for breakfast, that is but maybe... maybe we could get Thai or something tonight? Or, if you'd prefer something else, like if you want me to make something, I...."

"We can do Thai. There's a small place not far from here, great food. What do you like?"

"I'm not picky."

"That's not what I asked." He looked at you with a glint of happy in his eyes. "What would you choose?"

"Coconut prawns, beef satay, chicken curry," You replied with a soft, hopeful smile, the feeling of happiness at the possibility you were going to get a treat, do something so normal, made your chest feel as warm as the time he’d returned your personal belongings, or the day the tree was delivered.

"Consider it done."

"Do you think I could maybe have a beer or a glass of wine with it?"

"Anything in this house is yours if you want it." He looked at you and your mind was suddenly taken right back to that moment in his study weeks ago, the day Blanc had paid you a visit.

“You know, it could all be yours, Sweetheart, if you just stopped fighting what you know you want.”

Had you stopped fighting? Or had you just merely taken control of a vulnerable situation? Is this what you wanted? You had to just sit in the silence for a second. This whole scenario was quickly becoming a kaleidoscope of feelings and you weren't sure where to start.

"You said anything, right? I'd assume that's within reason."

His eyes narrowed for a moment and he leaned forward on his elbows. "Anything, within reason."

You started to move your lips to ask of what you wanted but you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at the thought. Ransom saw this and glided a warm hand across the table to run a finger over your thumb down to your wrist. "Tell me," he coaxed. His tone and look made your insides twist in two different directions, one in fear and the other in delight. It was a confusing juxtaposition at best.

"I want to go outside. I want to feel the sun on my face, breath in the cold winter air." You had hoped the misting of your eyes wasn't visible nor the hope in your words.

"I'll think about it," he replied after a small pause.

"Okay," you shrugged. It wasn't an outright no. Silence filled the kitchen again, neither of sure what to do or say and finally you stood to get more coffee and when you turned to face him, to offer him a top off, you were startled to find him right behind you.

In your start you have a gasp and warm hands cupped your face. Your heart raced through your chest. It was damn near impossible to read him. Soft lips touched yours. "I have some work to do in the study," he spoke softly.

"Sure." You nodded, your eyes locked onto his as he stepped back slightly. "Do you want me to be there with you or..."

"I have a better idea," well that worried you. What'd he want? A blow job under the desk? "I want you to gather your stuff, you're not staying down there anymore."

"So where do I go?" You tried not to sound too hopeful, as if he'd set you free that easily. Nor were you even sure you wanted to go.

"Upstairs, with me." He stated matter of factly. "Come on, I'll show you. I'll move your clothes up later, but for now, after I show you around, get everything else you want or need, whatever."

“Do I get a say in all this?” You blurted it out before you could stop yourself and swallowed, waiting for his anger to brew but it didn’t. Instead he simply raised his eyebrow at you.

“Do you wanna stay down there?” He asked.

“No, but-“

“Good, then we’re agreed.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish to protest but couldn’t think of what to say, not that it mattered anyway, it wasn’t like you had a choice. Not really. You followed him up the stairs and onto the expansive second floor. It seemed to be sectioned off into a handful of bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Ransom took great delight in showing you grandiose room after grandiose room, and to be honest you found it all a little ostentatious, why would he need all that room for just him. Well, him and you as it transpired… And he saved the ‘best for last’, according to him anyway, as he pushed open the heavy door into his room. Instantly you were hit with the familiar smell of his woody aftershave and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

Your eyes took in the space, the four post bed, the ornately shaped windows that were nearly floor to ceiling. There was a fireplace and above it, over the mantle, a mirror. The entire room was decorated in neutral whites and creams, with a touch of grey on the detailing in the alcoves and around the fireplace, a pale blue and white striped bed spread and matching pillow covers adorned the bed. It screamed Ransom to you, from floor to ceiling. Whilst the rest of the house wasn’t what you would class as warm, this was even less so. It was very open, very.... manly and stiff, a woman's touch never evident. Your eyes strayed upwards, half expecting to see a mirror on the ceiling, but to your relief there wasn’t one.

"What do you think?" He asked, his breath hot on your neck, and from the tone of his voice you could tell he was seeking approval. He was openly showing you around, almost as if he was trying to tell you this wasn’t his typical ‘fuck and duck’ scenario. He was taking his time with it, and half of you felt relieved, the other, well, trapped.

"It's very different than downstairs, or my room even." You chose your words carefully as a strong palm in the base of your spine guided you through the doorway.

“Is that a good thing?” He asked, turning to look at you, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

You pop a shoulder, not knowing exactly what to say. He guided you through to the en suite and you felt your eyes grow wide as you took in the space. The floor was a grey and speckled marble which made you nervous immediately about the potential of slipping when wet. Mood lighting was set into the entire space, skirting around the edge of the flooring, shining up the granite tiles that lined the walls, except for the wall on the inside of the huge shower cubicle to your left, which sported the same tiles, only a gloss white. The whole thing was set off by a large chrome waterfall shower that was easily big enough for two people, maybe three, with immaculately clean glass doors and sides. Along the far wall was an enormous ornate tub, the sides so high there was a small step into them, and to the right stood two chrome basins fed by matching fancy mixer taps, all perched on top of a sleek, white marble unit with frosted glass cupboard doors underneath, and another large mirror over the basin unit, which was illuminated by bright LED lights.

"The sink to the left is yours, anything you want can be stored in the cabinet there, it's empty. So are the drawers on the side." He explained, leaning against his side of the sink basin.

"Erm, thanks." You nodded, your eyes flicking to where he'd directed your attention before you looked back at him, your fingers tugging on the sleeves of your cardigan as you licked your lips. There wasn't a spot of dirt, a single water mark or anything anywhere and before you could stop yourself you blurted out what was on your mind. "How the fuck do you keep this so clean? It would drive me mental even trying to polish the taps!"

It was his turn to pop his shoulder in such a blasé fashion, "the maid comes three times a week".

“You have a maid?” You asked, and even as you spoke you weren’t sure why it came as a surprise. Of course he had a maid. Not that you’d seen her, you were always responsible for cleaning your own space, but then of course you would be…

"Now, like I said," he pushed off the basin with his hips and stepped into your space, "I have some work to do. Move what you can up here and sort it all out. I'll be in the study if you need me."

"What I can?" You looked up at him. "Where should I put my clothes?"

"I told you, I'd take care of that later for you. Move the small stuff."

“Okay.”

With a satisfied nod, his hands gently dropped to your hips and he pulled your body flush to his, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. Without another word, he pulled away, turned and left you standing there, your mind trying to figure out exactly what was happening. With a deep sigh, you headed to your space. It didn't take more than two trips for you to bring up all you had and when you'd finished putting it away you sat down on the bed, your feet dangling over the edge.

Your palms felt the soft, cotton bedspread and you glanced at your small, leather bag which contained your few books and your journal. Not sure what side of the bed was yours, you didn’t know which nightstand to place them on so you decided to leave them where they were for the time being.

Which nightstand was yours…

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. This was all kinds of fucked up. You’d gone from his captor to his cohabiter, sharing a room like a couple who love and want to be with each other. You felt the tears stinging your eyes and with a soft sniff you moved and curled up in the middle of the bed, tucking your knees into your chest. You lay still, the strange room silent around you, and before long your eyes grew heavy as you thought to yourself, it is what it is. You just needed to concentrate on keeping things as they are now, as this Ransom was certainly a damned sight preferable to Asshole Hugh.

***** When you stirred from your nap, immediately you felt something was different and you moved your arm, realising that you were under the covers. As you blinked you sat up, the heavy eiderdown duvet falling down your body and you realised that Ransom must have been up and tucked you in. As your sights came to you, you noticed you were on the left side of the bed, looking out, your things had been properly stowed on the nightstand next to you.

Curiosity pecked at your sleepy mind and you slowly came out of bed and padded over to the walk in closet. Sure enough, you saw your things hung and organized neatly across the space from his own. You couldn't resist your next move, your fingers trailing over the sweaters and garments hanging on his side, your tips curling over the camel colored coat you'd come to know so well. Tattered sweaters and crisp button downs hung impeccably straight on their velvet and wooden hangers, shoes, some well-worn and others not, paired and stacked in the organizer where they belonged.

It was a far cry from your old, small wardrobe in your apartment which was cramped full, things jumbled and piled all over the place, not to mention the constant pile of ironing you kept in the corner of your room, which you never seemed to manage to reach the bottom of.

Your stomach grumbled and you found yourself hungrier than when you'd fallen into bed. Now, you seemed famished. You left the master and headed down to see if you could find your newly minted cohabitant. As you walked, you noticed for the first time that there were no photos of anything or anyone, anywhere. The odd piece of art, no doubt ludicrously expensive, hung along the walls in a few spaces but other than that, nothing. No personal touches, no family photos, absolutely nothing.

Again, not surprising given his relationship with his family. And you doubt he had any friends, none beyond acquaintances anyway.

As you reached the final steps, you could hear furious typing on keys and realized Ransom was still in the study. You made your way there and as you stood in the doorway, you waited for him to take notice.

“You gonna stand there all day or come in, Sweetheart?” He drawled, not even looking up from the sleek screen on his desk.

You came in, twisting your cardigan over your midsection and rubbing your arms. You walked over to the window and looked out. "It looks cold out there, beautiful, but cold."

You hesitated about thanking him for what he'd obviously done while you napped. But after a pause, you said it anyway. "Thank you... For getting my things."

"I told you I would so I did, you're welcome." He murmured, his attention still on his work. You glanced outside again, your eyes flicking to the light snow fall as it drifted down from the sky, settling down and melting into the ample, powder soft covering on the ground.

Ransom flicked his eyes toward the window and saw her staring out over the large grounds. He'd been furiously working away, trying to fix his current storyline for hours but parts still didn't feel right. He'd taken a break and taken Y/N's clothes upstairs, only to find her sound asleep in his, no, their bed. He'd hung up her clothes and tucked her in before retreating back into the study which brought him to now. A strange idea occurred to him, so he shut down his screen, stood and walked behind her. His eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window.

"I want to show you something," he said softly as his hands again found her hips, his lips pressed into that spot on her neck he knew she loved. Her eyes looked into his from over her shoulder and she replied with a small nod.

He took her to the back door, the one that led out into the garden and opened the closet door beside it. Inside were coats and boots. He grabbed a pair, creepily in her size, and a peacoat. A scarf of beige wool hung on a hook and he wrapped it around her neck before helping her into the coat. He waited for her to dip her feet into the boots and slipped into his own short, thick coat. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as he gripped the knob and pulled the door towards them.

"After you," he offered.

Her mouth went slack a little and her eyes stared at him now wide. The more she stared, the more his chest tightened and made the intimate moment grow uncomfortable for him. Ransom lightly scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Are you going to go out or not?"

He immediately regretted his outburst as her eyes averted from his down to the floor and she nodded. "Yes," she replied meekly. “I’m sorry.”

With one foot in front of the other, he followed her as she stepped outside. Immediately, the falling snow began to cling to the wisps of her hair and the shoulders of her coat. He imagined he looked just the same. He watched as she tipped her head back, raising her face to the snow as it fell, flakes clinging to her eyelashes as a huge smile crept across her pretty features. Then, he saw the way her shoulders began to shake as hot tears leaked from her eyes. But she was still grinning, her tongue popping out if her soft lips to catch the flakes of falling snow.

Ransom had read countless stories, heard many tales about people experiencing what they called a revelation, a sudden awakening to something emotional which you couldn’t control, and he’d scoffed. It was alien to him, not being able to regulate how you feel, but that was exactly what had happened to him yesterday, and it was happening again, but not because he was feeling those things, but because Y/N was. She wasn't crying because she was sad or scared, she was crying because she was experiencing the moment. And right there and then, he understood. You can’t control or make someone truly want anything. Sure, you could bully and coerce, but to truly make them feel it, that wasn’t possible.

A cold, wet feeling brought him out of his thoughts and he'd realized he was covered in snow, pieces of it dripping from his head, down the break in his coat and through his sweater. He gave a small yell of annoyance, looking up as he realised a large glob had dropped off the edge of the guttering straight onto his head.

A melodic sound quickly hit his ears and he realized Y/N was laughing, full body titled giggles at his expense. His nostrils flared a little as she continued, and then, in a movement that was almost automatic, he bent down and scooped a handful up snow at his feet and slapped it straight into her chest, his eyebrow raised.

Challenge issued, sweetheart.

She gasped and he couldn't deny the chill it gave him deep in his loins. He loved that sound. But soon that smug smirk on his face was wiped clean as Y/N flung a handful of snow right back in his direction sending her scampering across the garden.

"Oh, Sweetheart." His voice was low as he bent to scoop up more of the icy, cold snow. "You have no idea what you just started."

From there the chase was on, ducking and running for cover as he chased her and when he finally caught up to her, she was falling away from his grasp and into the deep snow at their feet, his body falling over hers. Ransom looked down at her, his hair falling over his forehead, chest heaving as she reached up and brushed the strand back, her hand cold as it fell to his cheek.

"Ransom," she purred, "you can smile.”

It was a point not a request. His chest tightened at the way she gazed at him. The snow continued to fall over them, but neither paid it any attention. His gaze was locked onto hers.

"Oh, what about? The fact I'm freezing cold and soaked when I could be inside, dry and warm by the fire?" He recovered with a tease, and she rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff.

"It's almost Christmas, and it’s snowing." She looked at him, "what isn't there to love about that?"

He faked a puzzled look for a moment and then found a chuckle rising up from his chest as her other hand rested there against his coat. "This is probably this first Christmas I ever cared about." He admitted freely.

She frowned as she looked at him, before she shook her head. "That's really sad, Ransom."

"I don't want pity..."

"No, that's not..." She took a deep breath and licked her lips. "That's not what that was. I was just stating a fact, that’s all."

He began to stand and pull her with him. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing my ass off."

Their moment was over and he started back into the house, Y/N following him, albeit at a slightly slower pace, clearly not as willing as he was to leave the outside space. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her all things considered, even if it was alien to him.

He shucked his coat off and then helped her with hers, "I'm going to order dinner."

"Okay, thank you." She nodded as she followed him back through the kitchen and into the warm study.

The two of you sat around the study, him going back to work on his book and you reading a book you pulled from the shelves around the room, sipping your respective beers together after Ransom had offered you one upon one of his many breaks in typing. The sound of the doorbell rang through the house and Ransom picked up his phone. He glanced at the screen before he stood up, and before he could say anything you spoke.

“Is that our food?” Your tone was hopeful, revealing your excitement and he looked at you, the smile on his face mirroring yours.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, brushing the strands off his forehead. “Do you wanna go to the kitchen and-“

“No.” You said quickly and he arched his brow at you, puzzled and you swallowed. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, I’d kinda like to sit by the fire. It’s what I norm-“ you paused, your eyes dropping to your hands. “It’s what I used to do, sit on the rug, eating out of the box, watching junk TV.”

“Lounge it is, then.” He shrugged. “Saves on the washing up I suppose.”

“Like you’ve ever washed a dish.” You looked at him and he snorted.

“Like I said before, the help only comes three times a week, Y/N. I don’t leave the dishes stacked up in between, what do you take me for?”

“You have a dishwasher.”

“Okay, so it saves on the loading of the machine.” He rolled his eyes, turning to the door. “Go grab whatever we need from the kitchen, and another drink. That last beer didn’t touch the sides.”

You did as you were told, your bare feet walking over the cold tiles of the hallway as Ransom paid the delivery driver on the doorstep. You grabbed a selection of cutlery, another bottle of his pretentious European beer, reaching for one for yourself when you paused. There was a bottle of Sancerre sat nestled in the cooler that was a damned good label, you’d had it once before with your parents. Hesitating, you bit your lip. You’d been drinking beer so far but…now, well, you really wanted a glass of that white. After a moment or two of grappling with whether or not it was allowed, you shook your head. Fuck it, the worst that could happen already had…

You managed to juggled your drinks and cutlery in your hands, years of practice had made you an expert at making the least amount of trips to your own kitchen and back, and you walked into the lounge where Ransom had set the boxes on the oak coffee table and you placed the bottle of beer down first, then the cutlery before you set your wine down.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t fancy more beer and-“

“I told you.” He looked at you, shaking his head. “Whatever you want.”

He passed you a box and you dug in, eagerly. The first bite of satay hit your taste buds and you hummed in deep delight at the way it tasted.

"It's been so long since I've had anything Thai. This, you were right, this is so good."

"Good," he smirked, tilting his beer back and taking a long swallow.

You smiled at him, your words echoing in your head. Take-Outs had been common in your life before, well, before all this. Working stupid hours at the Newspaper often saw you visiting various places on the way home, or having it delivered to the office. But as you sat there, taking bite after bite, you vowed never to take it for granted again.

Taking a respite from your eating, you reached for your wine and took a sip, the crisp taste hitting your buds once more, making you smile in delight. You replaced your glass and watched as Ransom tucked into his food, his eyes focussed on the box he held in his large hand.

"Thank you," you said after a stretch of silence, the fire crackling in the background.

"For?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Today, the garden," you replied with emotion. "I wasn't expecting you to let me go out like that."

He studied you for a moment, taking another forkful of his food before he swallowed and shrugged. "No big deal, it was only the garden."

"It's not merely just a garden when you haven't seen outside for days on end." You mimicked his shoulder pop, “and my parents always taught me to thank someone when they’ve done something you’re grateful for.” You dug back into your take out box and heard him let out a sigh.

“And mine didn’t, yes, I get it Y/N.”

“No, that’s not…” You swallowed your food and shook your head. “That wasn’t what I was implying.”

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow, his attention moving back from you to another box which was on the table. Pulling out a coconut prawn he thrust the box in your direction as he swallowed his morsel in one easy bite. “Can’t say I’d blame you if it was.”

You watched him, once more silence falling across the room, the glow of the fire which burned in the hearth illuminating one side of his face and his gaze turned to it, his eyes following the dancing flames.

“Harlan taught me how to build a fire.” He suddenly spoke, and you watched as a smile flicked across his face. “There’s a huge stone hearth in the drawing room of his…well, what was his house. I used to toast bread on tongues, sat in front of it, wrapped in towel after a bath.” He paused, before he scratched at his nose. “Nanna would then butter it and I’d eat it in front of the fire, with a mug of cocoa and I remember always thinking it was the best thing I ever ate. Still is, shits all over this.” He gestured to the array of boxes biting his lip a little, clearly lost in the memory. You stayed still, watching, trying to stop the surprise you were feeling at his sudden openness spread across your face. He shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “Then she died. It was never the same after that. The house never felt right, you know?”

He reached for his beer, taking another long gulp before he shrugged. “Funny really, when I think about it. It was always my grandparents, they were the ones who taught me my minimal life skills. Fishing, pitching tents…”

“You, camping?” You arched a brow, trying to lighten the mood and it worked. He snorted and turned to look at you nodding.

“As a kid I loved being outside. Harlan’s estate was a huge, big playground.” He smiled again. “And on the rainy days when I couldn’t be outside, I used to spend hours with Nanna Wannetta, learning how to play ‘Go’, the goal always being to beat Harlan. When I finally managed it, it was the best thing in the world, that I’d achieved something.”

"Do you remember Christmas with her, your Nanna I mean? What’d she make?" You were eager to keep him talking, getting an insight into what made him tick on a more emotional sense was something you hadn’t been party to much. Sure, you’d figured out how to get a reaction out of him on an angry, primal sense, how his narcissistic nature worked, but this was an in-depth dive into his psyche, perhaps a way to unravel the enigma surrounding him, how he could flip between being someone you could actually like and understand, to the monster you’d seen on many an occasion.

Ransom paused for a moment. “I can’t really remember many, I was only nine when she died but she always did a roast, with potatoes, green vegetables, rolls.” He smiled. ”And pie. Apple. Always apples from the orchard. We’d pick them in the autumn and she’d stew them ready, storing them for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

You thought about what was happening between the two of you, how open and, dare you think it, raw Ransom was being. The last two days had now given you an outright exposed forum to the man that hid behind so much wealth and privilege. A far cry from the man you interviewed.

An idea swung into the forefront of your mind, or two rather. "I know Christmas is so soon but, if I gave you a list of things to gather from the store, do you think you could do it?"

"I suppose," he stated flatly.

"Okay, good," you couldn’t help the soft smile as your plan unfolded. You picked at your food a bit longer, a piece of chicken curry chewing away in your mouth. He watched you and you watched him, a bite to the bottom of your lip when you swallowed under his stare.

His eyes diverted and he rose gracefully to his feet and moved to add fuel to the fire. "Ransom..." You watched him inhale deeply at the sound of his name, clearly still having a deep effect on him. He turned to you, a glint in his eyes, "Will you teach me?"

"What?"

"'Go'. Will teach me to play?"

"You want to learn to play? So you could play with me?" The way he asked you was so innocent and childlike, like he had never considered you willingly to do so.

You giggled, as you looked up at him. "Yes, Ransom, I want you to teach me how to play 'Go' so we can play together."

A genuine, purely innocent and genuine smile crossed his lips, teeth shining and he stepped the two steps away from the fireplace and took to his knees in front of you. His smile faded to a smirk as he leaned towards you, "You should know, I play to win."

"I'd expect no less," you replied.

His brow arched a little and his eyes flickered to your mouth, before he nodded to the container in your hand. "Are you done?"

"Yes, thank you." In a slow movement he plucked the now almost empty takeout box from your hand, placing it on the table as he all but crawled over you, causing you to fall back onto your elbows, hands grasping at the soft shag of the thick rug.

Your breath caught in your chest, your throat going dry. You could feel his hot breath against your face. "R... Rans..."

But your words were stopped short as his lips pulled yours in, a soft sucking and his tongue tipped across your bottom lip.

As the kiss deepened he leaned over you further causing you to lay back completely on the soft rug, his hands planting either side of his head whilst yours gently gripped at his biceps.

A familiar but forgotten feeling pooled between your legs, the feel of his muscles flex and twitch beneath your fingers, igniting your nerves as his tongue danced with yours making you dizzy and breathless.

Soft lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, skating upwards to your ear, finding that spot that never failed to betray you and you gave a soft simper as he lightly nipped at your skin, your sound drawing a low, satisfied sigh from him.

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” The words came out in a desperate tone as they crossed your ears.

"Do you want to stop yourself?" You whisper, knowing he's never stopped nor wanted to before. He stilled for a moment, pulling back to look at you and for a split second a spike of fear stabbed in your chest but there was nothing on his face bar a blank expression, as if he was grappling with something.

“No, I don’t.” He admitted, a soft sigh rose from his chest as he hung his head and moved away a little.

The encouragement left your lips before your brain processed it, a longstanding habit of yours, "so don't."

It seemed to shock you both and for a second time froze, before he was on you again, his kiss needy and heady. Your fingers curled around to the back of his neck as you scratched at the nape.

His hand started traveling up the underside of your cami, your stomach muscles twitching at his touch. When your knee hooked around his narrow hips, he stopped and sat back in his haunches. "I... Why don’t you go and get ready for bed whilst I clear away this stuff.” He waved his hand to the table.

You licked your kiss swollen lips, and breathlessly nodded, sitting up and then standing on your own two feet before leaving the room, Ransom's back now to you as he stared into the fireplace, palms bracing himself against the mantle.

You left the study, almost in a daze and headed slowly back up the staircase. As you made your way into the bedroom you stopped for a moment, your head turning back to the door. What the fuck just happened? You’d given him the green light and instead of taking you he’d backed off completely.

It as an unnerving turn of events, because despite your little moment an insight into his past before you had no idea what was going on in his head at that point in time. When he was being forceful and angry it was obvious but now, well, it was impossible to get a read on him and if you wanted to keep him on side, that was going to be a problem. Ransom was an enigma wrapped in an unbelievably layered mystery, and you hadn’t even scratched the surface.

*****

As the fire calmed beneath him, and deep inside, Ransom took two deep grounding breaths. This new sense of restraint and self-control fucked with his head, and what was even more frightening was that these were not thought through, these feelings were of instinct. As if a part of himself that he never knew to exist had been pried open in the depths of his soul over the last now forty-eight hours. He was deeply confused, especially now as he had towered over her, near ready to fuck her into the rug by the fire, not only with himself but with her. Twice now she'd given him a green light to do as he wanted with her. The first after he asked to be let in, in a manner of speaking, and just now, inviting him, no, encouraging him on. Then there was still that guilt that he'd tried to stifle back since the rose of their day. That guilt he harbored each time he got a look at that gash on her cheek, knowing damn well he put it there, the bruising growing darker as it started to show past the swelling.

He loathed this guilt within him, for Ransom Drysdale doesn't do guilt. Never cared enough, until now, until her and not until last night.

The world owed him far too much, his arrogance included, but Y/N, she was different. She was safe and safe was something he never felt. He used that same arrogance to posture at every given minute of the day, used it as his defense against all who crossed him, family included. Ransom couldn't remember a time in his life, not since his Nana passed, that he hadn't felt alone and angry, withdrawn purposely and defiantly. A grown man with mommy and daddy issues as Y/N had vehemently spat at him one night, yet she didn't know the half of it. If she hadn't pushed him, made him so angry, he wouldn't have hurt her, ruined her. No, no he wouldn't have.

But Harlan, with Harlan he could be himself, arrogance pinned up against arrogance, he learned so much from his grandfather and all he did was ruin that too.

The thought of Harlan put a sour taste in his mouth as that guilt came back through, twisting his gut and make him balk. It angered him he held such guilt for his life circumstances.

Again taking a deep breath, he gathered the take out remnants and tossed what he had to in the trash and placed the rest in the fridge.

As he made his way back up towards his room, towards her, he stopped at a guest bathroom and splashed cold water across his face. He rinsed the taste of curry and coconut from his tongue and quickly made his way to his room.

He stripped down, fully discarding his clothes to a pile in front of the bed and pulled he covers back, the cool, crisp sheets giving a chill to his skin. He heard the water tap shut off from the bathroom and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the anticipation of what he wanted next. Would she have changed her mind? Was she no longer going to encourage him to continue with treating her for the night? What the fuck was he doing now? Doubting himself? Doubting how he could show a woman a really good fucking time? Ugh, all these emotional changes and challenges were absolutely exhausting for him. He needed a distraction, yes, a good nice long distraction and the way he'd get it was now walking toward him.

He watched her as she came out of his en suite from his position reclined in his bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow. The deep green silk slip negligee she chose fit in all the right places and as she stepped closer, he took note of the way her hips filled out the satin material, how her pert nipples tented the fabric. His mouth was salivating and he swallowed hard, sitting up as she was at the end of the four post bed, then at his bedside.

"Come here," he said, speaking in a low, gravely tone, seeing her hesitation.

He forced more of himself to sit up to greet her, the clean, soft sheets falling to his hips, his naked chest on full display. His right hand curled around her hip while the other reached for her to pull her towards him. She gasped as her body fell into bed with him, both led out against the cushion of the mattress and pillows. Her legs were settled between his, her chest against his own but what he enjoyed the most was the way her lips fell in time with his. Both his hands cupped her face as he deepened their kiss. Tongue deep into her mouth, tasting the minty remnants of toothpaste. Lips soft against her own as they travelled down her neck to her spot that was just for him to know. He felt her move a little above him, as if she were pulling away. That not being in his plan for the evening, Ransom dropped his left arm to the mattress and used his strength to roll her to her back, his lips never leaving her own, sheets rustling round his legs as he kicked them away.

With one leg between hers, a knee so close to her core, his thigh settling against her mound, he moved her legs apart. Hooded eyes stared back at him and he watched as she visibly swallowed, lost in their moment. His body led over her, Ransom used one hand to prop himself up slightly while the other tantalizingly brushed one of the thin straps of her negligee down. His lips skated over her collar bone and back up her neck, a hot tongue against her spot and she quivered beneath him. The hand that moved the thin strap away from her shoulder glided over the outside of her thigh and under the hem of the sleep slip, skating up the outside of her thigh, up to her bare hip, thumb rubbing over her skin.

He pushed his knee up against her mound making her gasp a little. He didn't care to hide the smirk across his lips as they ghosted over her skin, moving back to hers. He felt her fingers curl around his neck before her hands slipped into the nape of his neck. As his tongue and body began to melt into hers, Ransom pulled the front of her negligee down, exposing her mounded breasts to the room. With his knee, he nudged up against her again and he couldn’t help the moan the escaped his mouth into hers when he felt her grind down against him. He wrenched his lips away from hers, sloppy kisses chaining down her neck, feeling the delicate muscles contract as she swallowed as he moved down, his tongue tracing a path over the swell of her breast before he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth, rolling it ever so softly between his teeth.

The hand that was round her hip gripped tighter against her soft skin, his eyes peeking up at her, her head thrown back against the pillow, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, soft whimpers flowing from her mouth and he pressed his leg further up against her centre, feeling her slick as it spread across his thigh as she rubbed up against him, seeking relief from the friction. Her needy nature was something he hadn’t seen to this extent before and he was hard as hell as she writhed beneath him, her back arching off the bed, pushing her chest upwards and he obliged, his mouth upping the ante around her sensitive nipple.

Again he felt her fingers against the nape of his neck as he nipped and sucked against her nipple, flat and hot tongue at the valley of her breasts. He shifted slightly, intending to turn his attention to her other breast, but the movement jostled his knee further against her and her fingers tightened around his hair as she gave a cry, grinding down on him harder.

“Atta girl, take it. Take what you need.” He all but growled out, his face hovering inches from hers as he watched her face, contorted in pleasure and desire, her eyes screwed shut. “Look at me.” He demanded, and obediently her eyes flew open, those deep orbs he could drown in locked onto his as he stared straight back into them.

“Ransom…” her voice was barely a whisper and once more the sound of his name from her mouth was enough to turn him feral and it took everything he had to keep himself from fucking her senseless. But somehow he did. He pushed his leg up against her as he slanted his mouth to hers, swallowing her moans and cries before he pulled back.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he whispered against her lips and seconds later her back arched and her entire body convulsed, his head shooting back almost painfully at the force with which she pulled on his hair and he groaned deeply as she cried out, tumbling over the edge of pleasure, her thighs gripping his, her pussy literally pulsing against his thigh as she soaked his skin with her orgasm, before she sagged back and lay trembling underneath him.

“I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”

As you came down from your high, you realised that your hands were tugging on his hair and you instantly let go, before you suddenly became aware of the fact that in your lust addled haze you’d basically fucked yourself against his leg. And, as you looked at him, that maddening smirk spread across his face and you knew the bastard was crowing inside at exactly how needy you’d been. How needy he’d made you, and you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be disgusted anymore.

You needed more, more of what he was offering, more of what had just transpired. And the only thing you could think of how to get it was to feel him inside you like he was the night before, how he filled you and gently caressed you. But was he willing to do it? You didn't know, not for sure anyway, for this wasn't the Ransom you had first met. This wasn't the man who tortured you, degraded you. No, this was a man who emerged from a cacoon of hurt, mental degradation, arrogance. This was gentle, so was... markedly different.

"Talk to me." His words startled you from your daze as you felt his gentle knuckle graze down your skin through the valley of your breasts and come to rest a flat palm over your belly.

You swallowed, desperately trying to calm the ocean of conflicting feelings within your brain as you looked down at him, your chest heaving. “I don’t know what to say.” You whispered, eyes not leaving his. The obvious conflict must have been etched across your face as his expression softened more, almost looking sad or worried he'd done the wrong thing. Who the hell was this guy?

“I’m trying.” He whispered softly, the tip of his nose brushing yours in a feather like kiss. “I’m trying to make you trust me.”

"Who are you?" You'd blurted it out before you could filter it, and you felt a faint tug of fear spike through you, but as quick as it had come it went when he leaned over you and pressed his lips softly to yours.

"Let me show you." He was asking once more, not demanding. “Please.”

The two of you were so close, you felt his hot breath on your face. The lump you swallowed hurt going down. All it took was a barely audible "okay." and no sooner had the permission slipped from your mouth, his lips were on yours, the kiss soft yet, deep and needy at the same time.

With one hand now entangled in your hair, the other holding his weight against your side, he positioned himself fully between your legs.

You could feel his tip at your entrance and your body took over, tilting your hips up, telling him just what you wanted, no, what you needed.

A second tilt of your hips met his as he found what he wanted, slipping right in, his lips leaving yours as he let go of a whimpering moan at the feel of your wet opening practically pulling him in. He moved slowly and deliberately, sliding in deeper with each thrust, like ocean waves rolling over the sand shore and back out to sea, his lips back on yours, down the column of your neck, sucking in that spot that made you shudder and back across your jaw and home again on your lips.

Your hands moved to his back, fingers dancing over the muscles which twitched with each gentle, deep rock of his hips, your nails lightly dragging as your hands made their way up to his shoulders where they stopped.

His eyes met yours as he paused his thrusting and you wondered what was passing through that fucking twisted mind of his. Was it an awakening that this was too much for him? Was it that the beast was ready to return? Or was it deep emotion he was struggling with? The calming of the storm inside?

"You're beautiful," he whispered with a blush pinker than his already flushes skin, almost embarrassed to give such a genuine thought out loud.

You leaned up, closing the space between you, your lips to his, accepting his compliment, hiding your own emotion from him. It twisted your gut and muddled your mind, it wakened your heart and flooded your core. Seated inside you, deep now at the angle, you breathed against his ear, "more".

The deep groan from his throat curled your insides as the vibrations from his chest rattled against yours. His hips moved back before they snapped forward, his movement powerful and sure and you gave a gasp as he drove into you, a dirty grind that had you clawing at his skin.

"Fuck, so good," he managed.

As his thrusts continued at their depth, grinding harder, your hands slid upwards into his hair, tightening around the longer strands and his head tipped back, a loud growl ripping from his throat. His lips crashed back to yours, your hands still tangled in his locks and almost curiously you gave another tug.

“Jesus Christ.” His words stuttered, punctuated by a groan against your mouth and he shook his head, his hands reaching for yours in his hair. “Imma lose it if you keep doing that, Sweetheart. And I’m not done with you yet.”

It wasn't a threat like you've heard countless times before, but a promise of what was to come and you shivered, your whole body jolting like you were chilled.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” His long fingers snaked between yours, strong arms pinned your hands on either side of your head on the pillow. Instantly you felt a flicker of panic and you gasped, moving your arms ever so slightly. But when Ransom didn’t react to your slight motion of resistance and allowed you to take his hands with yours, you realized this wasn’t about restraint. You could move, and moreover, in that instant you fully believed if you asked him to stop he would.

So you stayed where you were until you brought a knee up towards his rolling hips, toes on pointe against the sheets, opening yourself more for him. He gave another grunt of satisfaction, clearly crowing even more at your participation as his hips continued to drive into you over and over, coaxing you ever closer to your high. He was rubbing against that soft spot deep inside you and your cries were struggling to get out of your throat. The fire in your body was raging as you began to feel the flush hitting you.

"Oh... fuck... Ransom, please, I...." Her words were a rushed garble of pleas and he bit his lip, eyes fixed on those deep orbs, fingers tightening around her hands as he fought the familiar warm, tight feeling that was spreading across his abs and groin. His lips crashed back to hers, in a kiss that was deep and sloppy as she moaned loudly into his mouth. He felt her walls squeeze around him tightly, tighter than before. Her inner walls taking him for all he had to give and her outer, pulsing against his tightening sac.

“Fuck, baby...” he panted as she sagged underneath him, her body quivering with sheer pleasure for the second time that night. His hips drove into her, his pace quickening slightly as he neared his own release which hit him seconds later. “Oh, shit...” was all he could stutter as he came, his dick spasming and twitching inside her as he coated her insides, with a surge like nothing he’d felt before, the bliss rising from the very depth of his being and flooding his entire system with a white hot pleasure that consumed him completely.

It felt like it lasted forever, and he was certain his breathing stopped momentarily as he fell forward, his face burrowed into the side of her neck.

“What are you doing to me, Y/N?” a whispered voice croaked from his throat against her ear. She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t, she was still shaking under him. Gathering what little strength he had left he propped himself up on shaky arms, kissing her again before he shifted and pulled out of her, rolling heavily onto his back.

His chest heaved along with hers, his mind foggy and spiked full of serotonin. And when he calmed himself enough, Ransom reached for her hand, entwined her fingers with his and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled her close as he rolled his chest to her back, led against her, his fingers still entwined with hers, his arm against her. He nuzzled into her hair, his chest taking in a deep, shaky breath, doing all her could to mask the emotion seeping out.

You felt him rest his chin on the crown of your head as your body started to lull to sleep from the overload on chemicals and exertion. And as you drifted off to sleep, Ransom’s arm heavy over your waist as his nose nuzzled into the back of your hair you began to question just which one of you was the real captive.

**** Part 6

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