Steve groaned, but in frustration, not lust. "God, I know." Pulling back slightly, he reached over his head to grab his shirt by the neck, gathering it in his hands before yanking it over his head, then pulling it off his arms. Now there was a lot more skin on display, and Steve couldn't wait to feel Rogue against him.

Turning slightly, he sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Rogue between his legs, leaning forward to trail kisses along her stomach, up her sternum to the fabric of her bra; his hands settled first on her hips, before moving up her back, then trailing down over her ass and along her thighs. Just as he'd promised, the furthest thing from his mind at the moment was her scars, or how she'd acquired them, even as his hands roamed over the uneven patches of skin.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, mostly to himself. His tone conveyed what the words really meant: I love you. I adore you. I am so thankful I found you. I'm never letting you go.