He's a mess, hair rucked up, uniform shirt open and in disarray, his pants obviously tented, his mouth still wet and lips slightly swollen. Jedao's own eyes are half-lidded, glittering, captivated by Fives' eyes, but his mouth, and he moans, low and soft at the answer. The more eyes the better. He likes, he thinks, the idea of being watched. Certainly it's a less precipitous drop than the idea of being touched while he - of using Fives - he pokes at the idea like a kid with a loose tooth, how much does that hurt, what happens if I -

He presses his hand against the front of his pants again, seeking relief instead of restraint, moans again but grits his teeth against the edge of no, not yet, not quite that catches in his chest, and then collapses slightly back against the pillows, panting. He likes the idea, maybe if he could pretend he was pretending? If Fives were watching on the Roci's cameras, if Jedao didn't have anything to do with it, just because Fives wanted to see - Jedao's hips twitch involuntarily at the thought, and it's true, he wants, he just said -

- and Jedao likes to ride every scrap of momentum he has as far as it will take him -

"You're too close," he pants, softly, squeezing his eyes shut. Too much like sex, intimate and inclusive, not enough like proper voyeurism - "Maybe. Stand by the door?"