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❛ tell me what you want . ❜ (Matt)
There’s a thud as he pushes the vigilante hard against the wall, gloved hands wandering over his body aggressively. Matt’s sounds are music to his ears, the rumble of his deep voice questioning - no, demanding to know what Roman wanted in that moment, fuelling his own wild hunger. It’s enough to make his heart race, blood pounding through his veins as leather-clad fingers grope the demonic figure roughly, cursing under his breath at how obstructive he finds the fabric seperating their bodies to be. ”You. Get this. Off. I want to. Feel you. Make you mine.” Roman utters raggedly between harsh breaths. His teeth similarly preoccupy themselves along with his fingers, grazing the only unarmoured part of his visitor’s body. He doesn’t bite, not yet but he does nip sharply at that rugged jawline, momentarily finding himself growing curious as to who the man beneath the mask really was... but then those thoughts fade away, along with his better judgement as lust urges him on. Roman Sionis was a voracious man, greedy as he was volatile and cruel but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than the vigilante himself, to relive that experience of the first time they’d clashed. Whatever Daredevil’s name was, whoever he might be beneath that costume and his original purpose of coming here to Gotham, none of that mattered anymore. It was just the two of them, alone together like this in his office high up above the bustling streets down below. Suddenly he groans - the contact between them sends an unintentional jolt of pleasure through his groin, Roman’s hips thrusting hard against Matt’s own just as his hands did moments earlier. Fingers now ungloved firmly grasp the vigilante’s chin, the other hand settling on and squeezing a muscular armor-clad thigh. “Bedroom, last door over by the elevator. Unless you want to continue this bent over my desk?” Roman whispers, even though nobody else is around to overhear.