#pairwinterwitheverysleazeball2k17
I love Winter so much and I also love Roman so? Here we are. Slightly nsfw
Includes y headcanon that Roman is Atlesian, but defected and became the Roman Torchwick we all know and love.
::::
Her teeth scrape across his collarbone, tongue trailing across rough skin and scars she takes note to ask about. Later, though, because now is for burning kisses and digging her fingers hard enough into his skin to color him black and blue for weeks. She wonders if the others will ask, wonders if he'll wear her marks like a badge of pride. When his own mouth comes down hot and heavy against her carotid she knows he won't. She tilts her neck back just the same, though, because she can't seem to deny him. Or won't, at least.
Not when his leg is lodged between her legs, keeping her caged in, driving her back harder against the wall. His hair brushes against her skin, silken against her and she wants nothing more than to curl her fingers into it and pull him to her. She grasps his face in her hands and feels him, feels the high cheekbones beneath her thumbs-
His lips are swollen and red and she feels a flush of pride when she spots the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth. She kisses him again, hard and rough because that's all she knows how to kiss him. Its never been like this before. Roman does something to her, fills her with a feiry warmth that's so blinding she can hardly keep her eyes open when he is around.
He breaks away again and his legs shift, his foot hooking around hers and opening her legs. She buries her face into his neck. There's a shift of clothing, the click of his buckle clattering to the stone floor, kicking them aside. And his hot flesh against hers, the warmth of his thighs against her, molten and breathtakingly hot. She tilts her chin back, hair catching on the rough wall.
She isn't like this.
Winter Schnee doesn't meet criminals in dark alleys. Doesn't fuck them against brick walls and certainly doesn't love-
She inhales sharply when he moves inside of her, hips flexing against hers. She arches into him, arms wrapped around him, nails digging deep and hard enough that she knows she will leave little red crescents in her wake.
"Winter." he breathes her name, exhaling it heavily against her.
She meets his eyes, a familiar shade of green, obscured by strands of his hair. He is speechless for a moment, mouth open, chest heaving. She suddenly wants to see all of him, to feel his breathing beneath her hands. She tears at his clothing until his chest is bare before her and he presses himself against her, teeth gnashing at her shoulder, catching skin.
Her mouth falls open and she inhales sharply as he rocks into her, mouth hot on her. It hadn't always been like this, so hurried and informal. They had had some semblance of normalcy once, though it seemed a lifetime ago. She remembered him in Atlas gray, hair smoothed back, smiling, hand extended towards her. The memory is faded a bit now, clouded at the edges, but it's there.
She distantly remembers him taking her hand, racing through room after room until crowding together into a closet. She had been young then, barely into her second year at Atlas, and he had been so tempting, wild eyed and proud- so she had kissed him and he had kissed her back, fingers tangling through her hair and undoing the elaborate bun she wore-
Roman was a controlled sort of chaos. And it was a chaos she revelled in. She had missed him, had missed the heat he provided, the passion, the excitement.
She isn't sure which Roman she prefers, her prim and proper one that used to kiss her in gilded hallways of her childhood home, or the one that she knew now. It didn't quite matter now, she supposed, because this Roman was the one she had now.
And despite herself and her better judgements, she would not trade this for the world.