"Fives, Fives, Fives -" he chants, low and breathless, once please seems utterly pointless, because there's nothing else he wants, except to be here, feel this, lose himself in it. His back arches slightly under Fives' hand, pressing into the warm touch. When Fives' fingers drift downward, Jedao's litany stutters and hitches but doesn't stop, hole twitching around Fives at the extra stimulation, Jedao's hips shoving back onto him a little harder.