Accidents Happen
The first time they have sex it's really an accident. They're lying sprawled on the floor of the library in the middle of the night -- on the theory, Bobby figures, that if they get caught they'll be in less trouble because they're around books -- and they're scuffling, trying not to laugh out loud, and then Marie climbs on top of him and straddles him with her weight right there , and he's holding onto her gloved hands while they rub against each other, and then all of a sudden it's too late to stop --
Okay, so it's not exactly an accident . It's not exactly sex, either, but then again he's not sure it's exactly not sex. It's something he doesn't want to get caught doing on the floor of the library, anyway, so the next time she creeps out of bed in the middle of the night and wakes him up, he takes her gloved hand once they're out in the hall and leads her silently to the door up to the attic.
It's dusty up there, and the attic floor is hard, but there is an old blanket, and he spreads it out on the floor for them to lie down on. He can feel the heat of the wood through the blanket. Everything smells of dust.
There's a moment of awkwardness, because this seems so ... intentional. It's hard for him to pretend he didn't bring her up here so they could get each other off, and he's pretty sure that's not what nice guys do. Not with nice girls. Then Rogue reaches down and unzips his pants and slides her gloved hand under the cotton of his shorts.
"What about ... I mean, I can't ..." he manages to say.
Rogue's mouth twitches, almost a smile. "You're going to have to get some gloves."
He should be doing something, he thinks, something to prove that he is cool and knows all about women, but it's hard to think when he's trying not to come yet. She is leaning down over him, her hair falling against his bare collarbone, and he wants to kiss her so much. It would be worth it, he thinks.
Her gloved hand tightens around him and she bends her head and bites him through the fabric of his shirt. He feels himself losing it and tries to kiss her, his lips only brushing her hair. He struggles up against her, feeling her warm breath against his cheek, and it's only when her lips touch his skin that he feels himself come.
"Oh, God," he says, "oh, God --"
"You'd let me do just about anything, wouldn't you?" There's something just a little scary in her voice. She puts her hand on his chest, and he isn't sure he could get up if he wanted to; he's dizzy, his head spinning. "But I guess you've always liked playing with fire."
"That's not what I like," he says, but her hand is sliding into his pocket; she pulls out the lighter he's started carrying there and holds it up like it's evidence. She flicks on the flame and lowers her hand, too close to his body. He's afraid his shirt will catch fire. He can feel the heat against his skin.
"You never did this before?" she asks.
The heat is like a burning hand pressed against his stomach. He's pretty sure that if he says "No" she'll press her lips against his skin and breathe him in until she knows .
He kind of wants her to, even though he knows she'd feel guilty about hurting him, and that would make things weird between them. Maybe weirder than if he just tells her. It's not like when he did it with John it was sex . It's not like it meant anything. It was really an accident.
The heat against his skin is starting to hurt, and all at once the flame freezes; he didn't mean to do that, either. Rogue pulls the lighter away, looking suddenly stricken. She lifts the back of her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. Did I --"
"You didn't hurt me," he says, although she did. It's not the first time.