Jedao huffs, torn between a laugh and a soft moan, getting his legs spread and his knees bent up so that Fives has room to move over him.

"Jesus, who said you were allowed to be that smooth," Jedao mutters through his useless smile. "It's fucking tragic that I can't go twice." He slides a hand to cup the back of Fives' neck, not directing him, not even gripping tightly, just resting his fingertips on the vertebrae like he might hold a flute, a constant return contact, a closing of the circuit between them.