One of the eyes glows, dimly, next to Fives' face on the pillow; more of the shadow must be falling over his back.

He hums, a low, deliberate, appreciative noise. "Your hands. Your big rough hands on my hips. Fuck, if I ever dream again, it'll probably be about your hands, I've thought about them so much. Would you tease me, sweetheart, like I teased you? Would you let me nudge you, coax you, teach you just how I like it? Or am I just hanging on to your hair in desperation while you swallow me down, while you take and taste everything you want until I'm screaming your name?"