#Sages Kinksmas Celebration

[sagechanoafterdark]

It's A Marshmallow Christmas

Pairing: Ransom x Reader Word Count: 2,174 Warnings: language, fingering, dirty talk, soft Ransom, protective Ransom, Christmas stress A/N: First day of the 12 days of Kinksmas! I was so worried about not getting this one out on time. This may or may not be based entirely on fact. I hope it brings everyone a little bit of joy to see our favorite disaster couple having a happy holiday. Merry Christmas everyone!

Read more Ransom and Marshmallow in Held for Ransom!

“Okay what’s next,” you mumbled to yourself, finger sliding down the whiteboard on the kitchen fridge. “Right so next is the dip, which I can get on the tray and set out. But before that, I need to pull the chicken. Oh my god did I forget the fucking hot sauce!? Oh no there it is.”

Ransom stood at the threshold of the kitchen watching you flit from one cupboard to the next, his worry lines deepening. “Hey Marshmallow,” he called out somewhat wearily. “Maybe you should take a break for a few minutes.”

Turning around you pinned him with a glare that would surely make even his mother flinch, “I don’t have time to take a break, Ransom. There’s too much to do and I only have a few hours to get it all done!”

His blue eyes widened while you turned your back on him again. Your shoulders were up as you began mixing ingredients in a bowl and muttering to yourself.

You’d warned him.

You’d told him at Thanksgiving when Linda, after one too many vodka tonics, insinuated that you couldn’t hold a holiday together to save your life and that no doubt you’d be joining them every year from now on rather than hosting your own. Normally the dig would have slid off you, or you’d have chewed his mother out right here. Instead, you plastered a smile on your face and said something about hosting Christmas Eve dinner.

He should have stopped you. Made up some kind of excuse afterward or taken you on a trip away from the insanity that would overtake you. But your lamenting whine on the way home made him hold his tongue.

“What am I going to do Ransom,” you cried, head in your hands as he drove back towards home. “I can’t host Christmas Eve dinner! Christmas makes me crazy. I lose my damn mind every year and I know that I do it. Why would I say that?! What vengeful fucking ghost took hold of me and was like, ‘Let’s make her host dinner.’ Linda was drunk too, so she’s going to remember it! Fuck!!”

He should have listened to your warning.

But he didn’t.

It was only two days after that dinner when you’d begun decorating for the upcoming holiday while he was out for coffee. Garland and twinkle lights descend the staircase, along with various woodland animals made out of twigs and sticks, tiny Christmas trees with twinkle lights sitting on every surface, and more boxes of bulbs than he ever remembered when you’d moved in.

He’d only been gone maybe an hour.

Ransom also didn’t protest, much, when you dragged him to a tiny farm outside of the city that you’d found on Google maps. He’d almost froze to death as you made him trudge through the fresh New England snow to find what you would dub the ‘perfect’ tree.

Okay, so maybe that part wasn’t bad.

As if these weren’t moments he’d secretly cherish forever. Like seeing the look of pure childish wonder that spread over your face and lit your eyes as you’d finally spotted ‘The One.’

Or the giggle you let slip before swiping a dollop of whipped cream from his nose as the two of you drank hot chocolate afterward.

Or even you shrieking his name as he’d mistakenly released the netting on the tree before bringing it inside. It was his first time having a tree and decorating on his own, of course, he didn’t know how it was done!

How when putting the lights on the tree your tongue would peak out just a little in concentration. How when you finally finished for the day you’d slid into his arms so easily fast asleep. Alright so those, he could willingly admit, were the little moments he loved.

But what he didn’t love was whatever this was.

If he’d been paying closer attention he might have caught glimpses of the holiday madness settling within. When you couldn’t settle on ham or turkey for the main course, so you’d decided to compromise and make both. Then they were out of the potatoes you wanted, so you went to four different stores to find them, and then there was the very heated cranberry versus red pepper jelly discussion between you both in the middle of the aisle.

In nearly every instance you ended up in tears with your hands shaking and Ransom growing increasingly worried.

You needed to relax. Even if it was just for a moment.

Pursing his lips he looked over at the timer on the stove, there was a good hour before you’d be checking the turkey again. His smile grew slightly as he came up behind you.

“Hey,” he cooed, pressing up against your back. His hands slipped around your hips and held you firmly. It was impossible to miss how you instantly leaned back into him giving a sigh of relief. “You’ve been working really hard sweetheart. How about you take a little break.”

Ransom was the devil himself tempting you with the sweet fruit of a moment’s peace. His lips began dragging over the exposed column of your neck, pressing light pecks as he continued coaxing, “Dinner isn’t for another three hours, they’re all going to be here soon. So take a break.”

You would have been embarrassed at how easily you started to give in were you not a basket case of stress and anxiety. His hand closed over your own, pulling the spoon from your slackened fingers you swallowed hard pretending not to know exactly what it was that Ransom meant by taking a break. “I told you I can’t,” you scolded, reaching for the spoon as he held it just out of reach. “There’s still too much to do and I’m… Ransom…I’ve still got….Ransom, please give me the damn spoon.”

He chuckled, his hot breath caressing against the shell of your ear, “Mmm, no.” His mirthful rumble concluded as his teeth caught the lobe of your ear.

Gasping his name your hands slammed onto the counter for leverage just as his hips pinned your own against the unforgiving stone. Trying your best not to grind back against him as his growing erection pressed against the swell of your ass.

The hitch in your breath had him humming again in approval. “You’re acting a little too crazy today,” he admonished, that wicked tongue of his tracing down the column of your neck. Pressing teasing kisses to your skin, “I really think a little break is in order.”

Tilting your head to the side on instinct, your eyes closed in needed bliss, pleasure rolling through you as Ransom’s mouth found the sensitive spot that always made you keen.

“I warned you didn’t I,” you half sassed, guiding one of his hands to your breast. Gasping when his fingers gripped you through the dress you wore, dimpling the skin he growled against your skin.

“Yeah,” he agreed huskily in your ear, blatantly rubbing his cock against you now. “You gonna let me fuck some of that crazy out of you?”

The spoon clattered to the floor as you turned in his arms, leaning up and into his kiss as Ransom licked into your mouth, swallowing your moan. With the outline of his cock pressing against your belly, you couldn’t stop the roll of your hips as his strong warm hands cupped your ass and slid you onto the counter.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled Ransom close as his tongue stroked against your own. His hand dipping between you to rub at your clothed heat and earning another whimpering moan from you.

“Ransom,” you whimpered, fingers tangling in the new cable knit he wore. “I have to get dinner…. Oh, fuck right there.”

Pressing his thumb against your clit briefly, he withdrew his hand only to slip it inside the stretchy waistband of your leggings. A string of curses slipped past your lips as his thick fingers stroked against you, rubbing and pinching in just the right way that had you whining out his name.

“This what you want sweetheart,” he growled against your lips. “Sure you wouldn’t rather cum on my cock?”

A gasp burst from your lips as your head fell back against the cupboard, Ransom's fingers working their own sweet magic over your clit as the fire began to rise in you. “Ransom,” you panted, fingers trailing over the curve of his jaw. “Please. Please, I need it. Please.”

“Need it huh,” he husked against your lips. Feeling your slick coating his fingers before slipping one then two deep into you. The ragged moan that fell from your lips as he stretched you made him grin ear to ear, “So warm and wet for me, Marshmallow. You sure you wouldn’t rather cum on my fingers?”

Shaking your head as words became useless, your eyes clenched closed and you grit your teeth as he pressed that magical spot inside of you that had your legs shaking. “That’s it,” he coaxed, kissing along your jaw to your panting mouth. “Squirming so much for me, want you to make a fucking mess on my fingers sweetheart.”

The tremble in your legs was getting to be too much, unable to control yourself as you freely rode Ransom's hand on the kitchen counter. Your arms wrapped around his head, pulling him close as his fingers pressed, tapped, and thrust in and out of your soaked heat.

Ransom felt the muscles in your body beginning to tense, one by one, your trembling legs tightening around him and pulling him impossibly closer as you teetered on the edge, “Gonna cum for me? That’s it, pretty girl. Fall apart for me.”

And fall apart you did.

Mewling and shaking as all of the built-up tension released from you in an earth-shattering orgasm. Your walls fluttered around his still thrusting fingers and pulling him deeper as Ransom swallowed your moans. “Fucking beautiful,” he said pulling back and looking into your half-lidded eyes. “Always so beautiful for me.”

Withdrawing his hand from your waistband your arms wrapped around his shoulders again, pulling him close, pressing your lips to his in a fierce kiss. Leading with your tongue as it slowed to a natural end, Ransom nuzzled against you. Pecking kisses against your panting mouth.

“Better,” he asked, smiling when you nodded, closing your eyes briefly and catching your breath. “Good.”

“Hello, Ransom we’re here!”

The shrill echo of his mother's voice called from the front of the brownstone followed by the rumblings of his father, no doubt already looking for the scotch. Ransom growled in annoyance, his arms tightening around you before you sighed, “I need to finish dinner.”

“Listen, I want you to remember something,” Ransom said, voice serious as he leaned away, lifting your chin with his fingers. “This is your house. You live here. Not them. And I’m always on your side. If they get to be too much for you they’re gone. It’s a Marshmallow Christmas, not a Thromby Christmas, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“It’s just our first Christmas together as a couple,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “I wanted it to be perfect for us.”

“It’s already perfect cause it's with you.”

While the 'from the heart' statement surprised you, you also watched with barely concealed amusement as a flush of embarrassment ran through Ransom. Turning the man red all the way to the tips of his ears. “That was so cheesy,” you giggled at his expense.

“Shut up,” he growled, the slightest turn at the corner of his mouth.

“No, I mean it,” you continued teasing, sliding off the counter as he scoffed and went to the sink to wash his hands. “I think that was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said. Who would have known? Ransom Drysdale, says cheesy things to his girlfriend when he’s being soft.”

His mouth set into a line as you rubbed his back laughing a little, “I’m just teasing.”

Sighing, Ransom pulled the towel down and roughly dried his hands, “I’ll go greet our guests. Just don’t let her rile you today, it’s your Christmas, not hers. Oh and don’t let Richard get under your skin. And if Joni and Meg show up…”

Laughing you cupped his cheeks smiling up at him, “I know.” Leaning up on your tiptoes and kissing him softly. “I’m sorry that I’m going a little crazy. Just know that I’m grateful to have you here and on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” he rumbled, hands sliding to your hips before pressing his forehead to your own. The two of you standing and swaying slightly in the kitchen to the faint sound of the radio before it was overtaken by the telltale tones of Richard and Linda arguing.

Ransom still held you, his hands tightening on your hips slightly before muttering, “Besides, even if you’re crazy today, looks like you’ll be in good company.”

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