He digs his nails in hard, but doesn't move them, doesn't scratch down when what he needs is something to hold on to as he bucks into Fives' hand, moans into his mouth, sucks on his tongue. Everything feels hot and heavy and slick and good, all over him, all around him, and there's nothing else, nothing Jedao has to worry about, not for another -

- he doesn't think about the fucking time, he doesn't have to. There's only Fives, only touch, only this familiar place and if it isn't quite safe on its own, it could be like this, could be safe now, with the bulk of Fives, crooning and young and unruined, like a shield between him and the world.

He comes soundlessly again, arching desperately against Fives' body, into his grip, into his kiss, probably draws blood from the amount of his weight briefly hanging from his fingernails, before he shudders and collapses.