Fives hisses in a slow breath as Jedao bares one long-fingered hand. It's so rare to see Jedao's hands, pale and vulnerable-seeming, and he knows it's significant even if he's not sure of the details. He's just sure that seeing Jedao like this, bare hand wrapping around his cock, hard and red and kriffing gorgeous, makes him feel like his skin is too small and tight, or like all the air has been sucked from the room.

He groans again as Jedao strokes himself, barely even notices the way he's pressing the heel of his hand to his own growing erection. He's too focused on Jedao, on how kriffing gorgeous he is with his head tipped back and his hand wrapped around himself; how much Fives wishes it was him with his hand around Jedao's cock, that he could lean down to taste and smell. He doesn't care about the wet mess in his pants, doesn't care about anything but watching Jedao, thinking about how Jedao knows he's there, how he wants him there. Force, he might come in his pants again.