Her shirt's already got most of its buttons undone to begin with, and she shrugs out of it in little to no time at all, balling it up in one fist and carelessly tossing it aside.

Her own hands are sliding down, finding the bottom of his shirt to slip underneath, running over his stomach and chest, trailing over scars of old wounds. She whimpers again, a soft sound, and tilts her chin down to fix him with a wild gaze before her mouth claims his again.