The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering lamp on his nightstand. Deftones was playing—low and slow, bass thrumming under your skin as Rodrick hovered over you, lips brushing against yours, teasing, infuriating.

"Can’t believe I finally got you in my bed," he murmured, voice laced with that signature cocky drawl. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your hip, his breath warm against your cheek.

He kissed you again and again, deeper, while his hands were all over you. He didn’t give a damn about taking it slow.

Rodrick pulled away just enough to smirk down at you, eyes half-lidded, completely intoxicated by you. "You look way too good right now," he muttered, thumb brushing over your jaw.