[Jyn's mind comes in and out of fog and light and clarity, the warmth at her core continuing to burn, to consume like a sudden inferno. She feels like dry kindling; never had a chance against its licking flames and burst of heat. She feels the pulse in her neck, feels it in her chest, against his body, down below. He could lead her into the pits of whatever this world's version of hell could be, into the darkness, into a screaming volcano, and she would follow. She would trust him - does trust him - with her life.
So his gentle but hungry urging is enough to make her trail closely at his side, mind fogging as the blood in her body begins to heat her from the inside out. When she figures out where he is going, she is unable to hide the smile that lights her features - eyes flicking to his with an innate understanding and hint of mischief and understanding. She takes in the surroundings only briefly, head snapping back at the ruckus of the doors being shut, before allowing herself to be - no, not overtaken. That would imply an imbalance, that she isn't just as willing or just as in it as he is. But she isn't carrying the shield. She isn't wearing the mask she often does with others. Even if she did, even if she wanted to (which she doesn't), Cassian would see through it anyway.
She emits a groan - no pain, all pleasure - at feeling the rough firmness of the wall at her back. She uses her hands to discover the skin under his collar, urging him forward, closer still, before dropping her hands to the hem of his shirt to explore the expanse of his abdomen, his back, fingers fumbling with the seal of his trousers with an insatiable hunger.
[action]
So his gentle but hungry urging is enough to make her trail closely at his side, mind fogging as the blood in her body begins to heat her from the inside out. When she figures out where he is going, she is unable to hide the smile that lights her features - eyes flicking to his with an innate understanding and hint of mischief and understanding. She takes in the surroundings only briefly, head snapping back at the ruckus of the doors being shut, before allowing herself to be - no, not overtaken. That would imply an imbalance, that she isn't just as willing or just as in it as he is. But she isn't carrying the shield. She isn't wearing the mask she often does with others. Even if she did, even if she wanted to (which she doesn't), Cassian would see through it anyway.
She emits a groan - no pain, all pleasure - at feeling the rough firmness of the wall at her back. She uses her hands to discover the skin under his collar, urging him forward, closer still, before dropping her hands to the hem of his shirt to explore the expanse of his abdomen, his back, fingers fumbling with the seal of his trousers with an insatiable hunger.