Fives is too far gone to even consider if it's something Jedao might like or not, though he might assume he did if it occurred to him to wonder, he just needs something, anything, to keep him from waking the whole damned house up howling out his shock and pleasure. And it just gets harder--literally and figuratively--when Jedao speeds his strokes, when the pleasure and the even more pleasurable pain come in such quick succession that they almost merge, and all he can do is jerk helplessly into it and rocket toward the edge.

He might have managed to last a little longer, even another few minutes (maybe), but then Jedao adds his voice to the mix and it's too much. The almost gentle whisper, breath warm against his skin, delivering a request that his body seems to take as an order, because the next time Jedao's nails drag down his cock he jerks once into the pressure and then goes shudders to a stop, rigid and still as he spills all over Jedao's hand and belly and even his chest, his desperate, sobbing howls muffled against Jedao's skin.