It was late. It seemed like it was always late (or was that too late?) for her. Barefoot, gloveless, Rogue made her way through the nearly silent halls of the mansion. She didn't mind the dark; she'd gotten used to it in her nightly ambling. She knew the mansion by heart - well, the parts she walked, anyway. Trailing her fingers along the wall, she paused as a sound reached her ears. It sounded ... it sounded like someone being attacked. Rough breathing, grunts, the impact of flesh on flesh.

She hurried a little, moving closer to the sound. The closer she got, the clearer the noises became. It wasn't an attack. Oh, no. Attacks didn't make people moan like that. Well, not usually. Not that she knew. It was possible, she supposed. Holding her breath, she peered around the corner.

For a moment, her mind couldn't make sense of what her eyes told her she was seeing. Because it looked like John had Bobby pinned against the wall, and was fucking him. But that couldn't be right. Could it? Bobby wasn't...gay, was he? "Bobby!" The word exploded from her lips before she could stop it.

"Don't move," St. John snapped to Bobby. "Don't you move. Not for her." He turned his head, resting his cheek against the back of Bobby's as he glared at Rogue, continuing to thrust himself into his lover, almost daring her to challenge him.

Bobby didn't look toward her. He couldn't. Groans and whimpers escalated in volume as John's thrusts became faster, harder, and then he felt John release inside him. Even when John pulled away, he didn't look. He closed his eyes, because he didn't want to see her. More than that, he didn't want her to see him.

"She's gone." John nudged Bobby's back. "Good job." He bit the side of Bobby's neck softly before slapping his ass, and walking away.