Ramsay held onto the thighs of his wife, staring down at the bloodied mess that coated her cunny. His wife was on her Moons-Blood, a thing that most husbands recoiled at the sight of, to the point they'd refuse to touch their wives as if they were diseased. Ramsay never really understood the disgust regarding it. It was just a little blood after all. But maybe that was just because Ramsay was, more often than not, covered in blood.

"Hm. Red's always been your colour."

Ramsay comments, tightening his grip on her thighs before tugging her down the bed until their hips were pressed flush together. Ramsay's cock rested on the top of her folds, and as he began to grind against her his shaft began sliding back and forth between her folds, the head nudging her clit occasionally. Ramsay gave a grunt at the friction, his grinding was at an oddly slow pace, but that only because he wanted to coat his cock in her blood.