Fives doesn't have a clue what the words mean, but he reacts to them like fingers sliding down his spine, arching up with a shuddering gasp, like he's pressing into a touch. He wants to hear more of it, warm and musical, wants to know what Jedao's saying... though he can make something of an educated guess. And then he's speaking Standard again, his drawl thicker than ever, and Fives would give almost anything to taste the words on his lips.

He shudders again, pushing up to his knees without question, legs splayed wide and cock hanging dark and heavy between his thighs. He's absolutely unselfconscious, arching his back for Jedao's benefit, giving himself a slow stroke and then squeezing tight at the base. "Your kriffing voice, ori'vod," he rasps, and his own accent is thicker as well, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

He gives himself one more stroke, sliding his foreskin back, dragging his thumb over the head of his cock, then lets go and reaches to fumble for the pressure drawer. It only takes a moment before he's pulling the lube out, weight braced on his his other forearm and hips twisting restlessly, helplessly in the air, with nothing to push against for friction.

"Now what, ner'alor? What do you want me to... to do with it?" There is very little he wouldn't do right now if Jedao told him to.