
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3539915.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin, Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Domeric_Bolton/Ramsay_Bolton
  Character:
      Roose_Bolton, Ramsay_Bolton, Domeric_Bolton
  Additional Tags:
      Half-Sibling_Incest, Blood_Kink, Bloodlust, Light_Dom/sub, I_Will_Go_Down
      With_This_Ship, Ramsay_is_his_own_warning, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern
      Setting, Blow_Jobs, Everyone_is_American_for_no_reason, Implied
      poisoning, Rough_Oral_Sex, Sibling_Incest, Fantasizing
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-14 Words: 4340
****** The Locket in Your Pocket. ******
by BigScaryDinos
Summary
     Domeric finds his brother. Ramsay makes a mess of things. Roose
     wishes he never had children at all I suppose.
Notes
     Basically everyone is American because reasons. I seemed to
     discovered my new favorite AU, Midwestern Bible Belt Ramsay. And I
     keep switching poor Domeric into fifty shades of indecisiveness. Dom?
     Totally ashamed of everything? Usually write Thramsay so this is a
     bit tame I suppose.
 
Domeric was disappointed. He hated the feeling of being so terribly let down by
something. Laying sick and helpless on his bed, coughing his lungs up it seemed
he was wracked with the guilt that this was his fault. He just couldn’t blame
it all on himself. There was something that irked him endlessly about putting
his faith into somebody and that somebody just so happening to share your
blood. It felt like the worst kind of betrayal.
 
Months had passed since he had convinced his father to take in his half
brother. Convinced was the wrong word. He had forced his father to accept it,
there would be no other way. Domeric had become a package deal for the sake of
someone he hadn’t met. His ultimatum had been to take both brothers or give
them both up, forever. It wouldn’t have been so difficult if the brother in
question wasn’t as wild as wild could be. His father had tried to talk him out
of it, tried to turn his eldest son - only son in Roose’s mind, away from such
‘uncooperative children that are no use to you or I.’ Those were the exact
words he had used to describe his own son. At the time it turned Domeric’s
tongue sour, just picturing his only sibling living somewhere out there without
love, without a family, without a father. He knew, just knew in his heart if he
brought the bastard home his father would accept him. So he had.
 
------------------------------------------------
 
It had taken longer than he could ever imagine but he had found his half
brother, hours away and living with some woman - presumably his mother. Digging
around Domeric discovered his only kin had dropped out of school at twelve to
be “homeschooled” but he doubted that. One look at the dingy farmhouse and the
drab looking woman who inhabited such a place showed no signs of education.
When Domeric drove up the gates he knew he had to save his brother. This was no
place for a Bolton.
 
Polished and perfected until he was gleaming Domeric looked far out of place,
much further out of place than he would have ever liked to admit as he was
greeted by some woman, Ramsay’s mother. Her name slipped his mind as soon as
she spoke it. Something with an R maybe. She had nothing original about her, no
qualities that could make her stand out from a thousand others like her. Her
hair was dry, brittle, old looking. She was wearing an apron over a thin cotton
dress, like some woman from the eighteen hundreds.  As he was admitted to the
kitchen he found everything around him shared the same qualities. Ancient,
dirty, dusty, brittle, dry and dying.
 
“Where is he? Where is my brother?”  He couldn’t help the air of superiority in
his voice. He was the knight in shining armor. She tossed her head over her
shoulder towards the window. There in the impossible heat was his half brother,
impossible all on his own.
 
Naked from the waist up, standing in a dingy looking shed with the doors pushed
wide open, slaughtering a deer; something he had caught earlier that morning -
Ramsay was pleased to inform him later. A clean cut from neck to groin was all
it took for the entrails to splash audibly on the ground. Dogs barked somewhere
none to far off. Cicadas hummed in the heat. Blood splashed his bare,
glistening chest. Muscles rippled while he worked, his hands stained crimson to
the elbow as he slaved over the carcass dangling from a hook before him. His
back moved, shoulders pressing forward and back as his hands worked with a
sickening kind of grace.
 
Domeric swallowed hard - his mouth dry. It felt as if the dust from around him
crept into his throat, his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight as he strained
against them. He leaned against the wall before sitting down in one of the few
chairs around the table in the center of the room. he rested his head in his
hands before realizing that he was alone in the room and thanked god. He tried
to imagine his brother sitting here in the same chair, eating cornflakes out of
plastic bowls decorated to look like china. He tried to picture his brother
slamming the screen door and sitting on the porch on a rainy night. He tried to
picture his brother doing anything, then tried to clear his brother out of his
mind for a moment.
 
It didn’t last long, he sprang to his feet when he heard that dusty midwestern
voice calling out in the yard. Before he knew it his brother was in the
doorway. Half brother if he got technical.
 
The younger Bolton looked at the elder, icy near white eyes glinting in the
room that had suddenly dropped ten degrees. What had been sweltering heat
before was made both more bearable and less at the same time. Sweat trickled
down the small of Domeric’s back as he extended his right hand, automatic. He
was nothing if not a robot who always knew his proper courtesies. He held his
hand in the air for a few seconds before looked at his brother’s hands,
currently resting crossed over his midsection. They were still splattered with
dark red, almost dripping.
 
Before he could pull his hand away he felt another palm pressed against his
own, feeling heat waves radiate into him. His eyes scanned the body before him,
gore swiped across his chest. A lazy trail of blood was making it’s way down
his stomach, dripping so slowly, so sweetly. Iron filled his nostrils, and he
finally looked up to the face in front of him.
 
Dark, was his first thought. There was something feral about his face. Scary
almost with how perfectly terrifying it was. A spray of blood had struck his
neck and jaw, leaving his face splashed with the same gore dripping off his
hands. Chapped lips tipped into the hint of a smile, a smile that wasn’t
reaching his eyes. His eyes were such a piercing color, clearly his best
feature. Ice crept into his veins just looking directly at them. Plastered to
his forehead were dark curls - damp with sweat.  Droplets of blood clung to the
strands and dripped down his face, when one finally arrived by his mouth his
tongue darted out to meet it.
 
“So. You’re my half brother. Dom-en-eric.”
 
“Actually just Domeric. Dom if you want.” His words felt wrong somehow, the
younger Bolton popped the tip of his tongue out, to rest at the corner of his
mouth, his eyes strained.
 
“Right. I’m Ramsay Snow.” He finally shook the hand he was holding and released
it, leaving Domeric to a handful of matted red, sticky between his digits. He
wanted to bring it to his own lips and taste it, just to let the metal coat his
throat. Inappropriate, he thought holding his fingers spread out over the
table. Dime sized puddles appeared under his extended hand. He couldn’t turn
from his brother for a moment. He was helplessly afraid Ramsay would bolt like
a cornered dog and run as far away as he could. More than anything he wanted
the ache just below his stomach to stop.
 
“Ramsay.” He tested, tasting the name. It felt right. He was destined to find
his brother, the one with the low slung dirty jeans, the one with the jagged
white scar just above his right eye, the one who was standing here looking at
him like he had three heads. “I want you to come back with me. This is no place
for you.” That got him. His eyes widened if only for a second, his youth showed
through his mask of stone and sarcasm.
 
“You know that by what exactly? Looking at me. That’s all you keep doing.” His
words were poison tipped arrows, but they missed the mark. Years had trained
Domeric for being calm, being steady. Patience was something his father had
taught him long ago. Something Ramsay would need to learn once they went home.
 
“I just want to get to know my only brother, I -”
 
“Half.”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“Half brother. I am your half brother.” Ramsay’s drawl struck Domeric, who was
accustomed to some attitude but not to interruptions, or to corrections. “You
know, with different last names, since your father refused to bless me with his
presence in my life after he fucked my mom. He picked your mother, guess her
cunt was tighter.”
 
“Well, yes, you are my half brother. You’ve never met him?”
 
“Him? The guy that stuck his prick in her for the night?” His head tilted
towards the window in the same exact manner his mother had minutes ago. His
mother was outside hanging clothes on a line inches from where the heart of the
deer lay in the dirt.  “No. I’ve never wanted to meet him. I guess he’s visited
when I was little once or twice. I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember. I
don’t want him or need him in my life.”
 
“You’ve never made a mistake?” Domeric said back, trying to keep his voice
level. Ramsay was having no issue with that. His smile grew larger, showing off
his shark teeth. His mask back in place.
 
“Oh I’m a mistake now?”
 
“I never meant - “
 
“You know, I’m close to telling you to fuck off. Very close. I don’t care who
you are or what right it gives you into thinking you can stroll in here and
interrupt my life. “  Ramsay’s eyes glittered with spite as he crossed his arms
again and leaned against the doorframe. Domeric calculated in his mind the tone
he would need to use, the exact wording to hook him.
 
“You don’t want to be here. I know you already. You are a Bolton. I saw you out
there. You don’t belong here,  you want to do what you want to do, be away from
under that bitch’s thumb.”
 
“She’s my mot - “
 
“How old are you Ramsay?”
 
“Sixteen.” His tongue out again, like a dog.
 
“You know as well as I do you want to do something with your life other than to
shovel pig shit until your bones disintegrate. I can show you a whole different
world. Money. Power. The guy that stuck his prick in your mother, well having
his blood makes us very lucky. Very privileged. We can do what we want. You
don’t need to cut apart deer little brother.” The lilting quality in his voice
was toxic, it was deadly. It seeped like a gas into every pore in Ramsay’s
body, every inch of him was swelling with lust. Lust for what could be a new
life, a different life, and in his mind a very similar life in some ways. He
brought a dark tipped finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, this time his
icy eyes met the matching pair.
 
“When do we leave?”
 
------------------------------------------------
 
And they were off within a few hours. It wasn’t a tearful goodbye, but his
mother seemed annoyed to have had her only free worker stolen from her. That’s
all he was to her really, Dom thought to himself as he drove his new brother
home, a piece of meat she could use. It was hard, thinking about his brother
though. Even when dressed in a pair of clean pants and a faded grey shirt,
cleaned to the best of his ability to keep the stench of manure and sweat off
him all Domeric could think about was the musky scent that assaulted him at the
first meeting. All he could think about was those muscles, pulling his tanned
skin taut. He could feel those fingers wrapped around his own, the strong grip,
the calloused tips, the torn bitten down nails.
 
He tried desperately to focus on the road and not the imagines of his brother,
the passenger beside him -who had begun to chat nervously about the deer he had
caught. Domeric just caught the end of a long winded monologue about how to get
around property laws when Dom cleared his mind for a moment.
 
“ - and I swear I know those woods better than half the fuckers who own them.
Who owns woods. Honest? What a waste of a good thing, the woods should be for
whoever needs them.  I need them, I need to hunt and run. I need it.” He looked
up through matted hair, still clinging to his face, in a low voice, cracked and
almost a whisper he finished his thought. “I crave it.”
 
Domeric needed to get this boy home before other cravings took over.
 
------------------------------------------------

His father was obviously less than pleased.
 
“He’s an animal.” His father proclaimed after the first family meal together.
Ramsay devoured everything set in front of him with his hands and teeth,
tearing into a chicken breast like a wild dog. He drank down a glass of water
using both hands on the glass. He was like a man starved for years. He almost
licked his plate, and would have if Dom hadn’t taken it away. It was enough for
Roose to lose his appetite completely, taking his eldest into the kitchen.
 
“I don’t want him here.”
 
“Father, he’s your son. You can’t not want him.”
 
“He’s my bastard. Your mother is rolling in her grave seeing this mess you’ve
made.” Words like blades cut into his heart. Thinking of his mother at all sent
Domeric into a tailspin more often than not, but tonight he had to be stronger.
He had a someone to protect. If Ramsay was kicked out where would he go, what
would he do. Domeric pushed forward.
 
“Well Mom’s not here, he is. He was living on a farm, they probably didn’t even
feed him there.”
 
“Are you blind? Just look at him, take a good look, he’s been eating well I’d
wager. He looks fine to me, and if you’d be so kind as to take him back
tomorrow morning or tonight if you can get the mutt into the damn car.”
 
“No. I’m not taking him back, I’m going to take care of him.”  Brotherly love
flittered through his chest, butterfly wings pattering at his rib cage. That
wasn’t all though. Watching his mouth work, his fingers dripping with grease,
his lips so full and his eyes. Those eyes that were always watching. It held
him down. He liked it quite a bit. He liked the way those eyes made his head
swim. He liked how his brother lowered his head and would gaze up at him
through the dark curtain of hair between them. His brother was dangerous, he
could feel it in the way his eyes burned, the way his lips curled into a snarl
more often than a smile.
 
“Then take care of him” His father stormed off, up the stairs and into his
study to waste the hours away working. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. As
long as his insisting was done for the night.
 
When Domeric returned into the dining room Ramsay had finished his plate, his
fingers reaching for the untouched portion of chicken on his fathers. He
glanced up once, nonchalantly as if nothing in the world were wrong.
 
“Glad he’s gone, somebody shoved a stick up his cunt or is he always like
this?” He snagged the chicken away, dropping it to his own plate and began to
feast again.
 
------------------------------------------------
 
“You’re going to sleep here tonight. Father would rather you stay here instead
of the guest bedroom.” Because you stink of shit and dirt. Because he doesn’t
trust you. Because he expects you to grab his fine silverware and bolt. Because
you were right, he thinks you are a mistake. Because he wants nothing to do
with you. Ramsay was smart enough to understand what was unsaid better than the
actual words being spoken. He could put two and two together and the results
were fine. More than fine to be honest.
 
Now he was in the basement, his brother just an arms length away. His cot
pressed closer and closer to the king sized bed his brother was planning to
rest in. Ramsay slept almost naked, skin and sweat and sometimes boxers if they
were clean enough. There was no air conditioning in the house he lived in since
birth. He could only crack the windows and strip down.
 
Domeric slept in cotton. He would tug on his faded favorite red shirt, the one
with the Captain Morgan logo across it, so faint you could barely make out the
shapes. He pulled on his sweat pants in his bathroom, suddenly nervous to be
around his brother, especially when his brother was watching him as closely as
he had been since dinner. Especially when his brother was nearly naked.
 
The second he was done he rearranged himself, pressing his cock down. Obey, he
thought, trying vainly to will himself into softness. Nothing could help.
Finally he resigned himself to just pretending things were normal. This was his
room, Ramsay was his guest. He would just crawl into bed, flick out the lights
and they would sleep. His over imaginative mind would rest when he did.
 
Ramsay had other thoughts. A new brother, older, with piercing eyes like his. A
shock of straight brown hair that fell just to his shoulders. He had a certain
sternness to his voice when he tried. Of course the most wonderful thing was
the way his big brother’s pants got tighter when Ramsay dared to look at him.
It seemed no matter what he did it was enough to stir something inside Domeric
just enough to turn his face a faded pink and seem hopelessly out of air. He
loved how his half brother looked when he lowered his face and gazed up,
subservient and so thankful. It made Dom’s head puff up like a balloon.
 
How his big brother had come so valiantly to save him from a life of servitude.
To snatch him up from his life and bring him back to this big house with maids
and cooks and people just waiting for a mess to clean up. Ramsay did love
making messes. He did love when people admired him, when people looked at him
and saw something desirable. His brother was a combination of admiration and
something he wished so badly to turn into a terrible mess. He wanted so badly
to shatter the thin layer of composer his brother tried to use as an armor. He
wanted to peel off the strips of self control until there was nothing left.
 
And so sometime around two am, when the night is the darkest and the moon is
the fullest, Ramsay crawled so carefully into his brother’s bed.
 
------------------------------------------------
 
Domeric was having a fabulous dream, he was on a horse, riding in the woods. He
could feel the horse under him, could smell the clean scent of the woods around
him, he could relax as the sun beat down on his skin, warming him. Then the
woods turned dark, the trees crowded overhead, the yellow rays blocked out
until it was dark as night. His horse stumbled over roots in the darkness,
whining in his blindness. When Domeric went to calm him, to run his fingers
over his horse’s mane, then his thick neck, he could feel an opening in the
skin. A thin slit that grew beneath his fingers as the horse melted away into
the ground under him. The horse screamed as he died, melting away to
nothingness. Domeric’s throat tightened. Warm and sticky and so sour smelling
he was laying on the forest floor in a puddle with his mount gone, but he felt
something there, still resting between his legs.
 
Something new and raw and unreal coming out of the muck beneath him, the
darkness swallowing all the sound around them. Finally he could see something,
deadly and vicious, the smell of blood filled his head as he spotted gleaming
white shark teeth coming closer and closer. Then it was on him - he was
terrified it would bite him and attack tearing him to shreds. Instead he felt a
tugging, gentle almost around his hips. He lifted his hips slowly, feeling
naked as his pants were taken off. Icy cold tendrils ran up his stomach,  to
his chest. He felt something dry and cracked against his thigh, touching him
and teasing him.
 
He woke with Ramsay kneeling under the pink sheets, between his knees, his hand
resting on Dom’s chest. Domeric flushed, his achingly hard cock already being
worked by Ramsay’s capable mouth, his tongue doing things no girl has ever done
to him before.  His lips tight, his throat tighter he brought his brother to
the edge time and time again, then let him slip back. Domeric was ashamed,
terribly frightened and wanting at the same time, his hips thrusting against
the back of Ramsay’s mouth. He wanted so badly to fight it, stop this insanity.
Then Ramsay would look up in that way, with those fucking eyes, staring at him
between dark curls and darker lashes. Domeric’s mind would empty, every thought
evaporating like smoke until there was nothing left but the warmth against his
hardness and the eyes that held him down, moaning.
 
Just as he felt he could take no more, just as he was inches away from coming,
Ramsay stopped. His lips still tightly wrapped around the angry red head of his
brother’s cock. Domeric looked down, feeling those eyes pierce him, holding him
down like ropes. Lips opened to reveal those dangerous teeth, before he let the
cock slip through his lips with a sickening popping noise. Domeric felt the
whining in the back of his throat.
 
“Why did you stop?” Panting, not begging, no begging. This was terribly awfully
wrong. It was the only thing he had thought about since meeting him. Even as he
thought that he knew it was lie. He was also thinking about bending his brother
over the bedside and shoving his glistening length into him. There would be no
stopping then. He wanted to bite down into his shoulder, burst the skin like a
grape between his teeth and taste him while he fucked him.
 
“I want you to tell me what you want, I want to hear you say it.”
 
“It?” Domeric’s mind reeled, he would not beg. Boltons do not beg, not ever.
 
“Say it. Just say what you want me to do.”
 
“Keep going?” Domeric tried, his words sticking like peanut butter to the roof
of his mouth.
 
“No, I want specifics.” It wasn’t until just now that Dom could see just how
small his brother was. Built proper of course, but he was so small, shorter and
with a fuller face that showed a trace of childhood even if he’d never been
allowed to have one. The scar above his eye, the hint of a purple bruise around
his neck, the way his lips were so dry when they brushed against the tenderest
skin of Domeric’s thigh. He had barely a bit of stubble on his chin, and that
too itched against his leg as he tried so desperately to maintain eye contact.
It was a game. Ramsay thought he was in power, but Domeric was. He did not take
lightly to thoughts of submission. It took a second for his fingers to catch in
the back of that damp hair and press his cock back into Ramsay’s mouth, gagging
him only for a second. He thrust his cock deeper into the throat he held
captive.
 
“I want to come in your mouth, Snow.” Domeric groaned, “You’re going to make me
come in your throat and you’re going to swallow every drop.” His fingers
pressed down, holding him at the base of his cock, watching his brother’s face
turn a dark shade of red, but never fighting. He just felt the way he was
controlling his throat to tighten, the rapid swallowing, the quiet humming low
in his throat of contentment even as he felt his air escape him. He could
almost see a sick smile on his face.

Then came one last trick. Ramsay inched one finger, a thick calloused digit,
wet with sweat and saliva, just a bit into Domeric’s ass. He hadn’t expected
it, had never actually taken anything near his ass. Pain bit into his pleasure,
but somewhere under all the haze it felt good. He face fucked Ramsay
relentlessly, closer - closer. The sudden feeling of two fingers threatened to
take his orgasm away, but nothing could stop and instead the pain from the
sudden penetration was just one of the fireworks going off in his head. His
balls tightened and released, he felt himself let go.
Ramsay couldn’t refuse if he wanted to, he just wriggled his fingers like
snakes and let his brother flood his stomach with come. Sour and salty and
coating his throat as he wanted it to go on just a few moments longer.
 
His own cock ignored and throbbing, forgotten between his legs at the end of
the bed. When Domeric was finally done, finally sighing with relief Ramsay
untangled himself from the sheets and legs wrapped around him. He inched
towards the edge of the bed and just when he almost fell off he stood up.
Finally planting himself back down on his own cot. His back to his brother so
he’d never see how close he had been to spilling his own seed in his underwear.
.
 
“Goodnight, Dom-en-eric.” He pronounced painfully slowly, his drawl making the
name even more disfigured. . Instead of correcting him he heard the rustling of
sheets. He could still taste the come in his mouth. Would taste it even while
he was eating breakfast in the morning he assumed. It wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Finally when he thought his  brother had nodded off he heard Dom’s voice,
sleepy sounding and low.
 
“Goodnight, Snow.”
 
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