The pain of being penetrated seemed negligible to Rogue, which was just fine with Bobby. He moved back and forth inside of her, find that she was keeping up with him. He held her as tightly as she held onto him, their bodies joined as if they'd been meant for each other all along. That was probably the runaway hormones talking, but he didn't care. Nor did he care that the motel walls were paper-thin and they weren't quiet by any means.
His pace increased until his hips were slamming against her near-invulnerable body. She was so beautiful, lost in the wild abandon of lovemaking. Her body heat kept rising, and so did his, and it all felt so wonderful, like his body and mind were being pulled into hers in a steaming-hot whirlpool--
Wait.
His body was starting to panic. He was being absorbed. His body must have gotten too hot. Hot was bad. Hot sex was problematic.
He tried pulling away and out of her, tapping her body and the bed like an MMA fighter about to be choked out. "Rogue--!"