Fives' back arches and he shudders, hips jerking, as his finger slides easily in. He's lucky he can't speak at first for how much he wants, how those words go right to the core of him, because if he could he'd humiliate himself utterly. By the time he can manage words he's locked the worst of them behind his teeth, can manage not to babble about how long he's wanted this, how long he's wanted Jedao. How many times he's jerked himself off in this bed, thinking of the smirking boy from the photographs Uncle Miki keeps scattered around the house, or the brave, daring young man Shiro likes to brag about. How much he's wanted anything that wasn't quick, desperate blowjobs or fucks with strangers in bathrooms and backrooms. How he's wanted to kiss someone, touch them, hold and be held and feel like it wasn't something furtive and forbidden and dirty.

Manages to choke it all back and tease. "I'm... I'm pretty sure if I were, uh, if I were that good, that I wouldn't be... be trying t'finally get it... get it right on the third... fuckin' go round," he pants, the words muffled against Jedao's hip, his face carefully hidden as he continues to circle his finger through the slickness at Jedao's entrance.