So gently, almost tenderly, Jyn sucked a mark onto his collarbone where she'd pressed her mouth. It wasn't about staking a claim or anything proprietary, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that leaving proof of herself on his body would do anything to keep him here. Instead, there was almost a quiet plea in it, to the universe or the Force or whatever the hell else was out there: let this be real, let this last, let him carry her with him far past whatever slight mark she could leave on his skin had faded, as if they hadn't already both indelibly altered each other; don't let this be undone again.

Satisfied, she lifted her head to kiss him again, deep and desperate. Being upright and flush against him, she could feel pressure building again, and undeterred by his having gone still — though she glanced up to meet his eyes for a moment and ensure it wasn't due to discomfort or displeasure — she continued grinding against him, breathing gone shaky and erratic, back arched under his hands.