It takes Fives a moment to catch the hint, to even notice it past shuddering aftershocks of pleasure and the fucked out lethargy that's finally starting to catch up to him. But once he does he tips his head obligingly and catches Jedao's lips with a deep, satisfied sigh.
By the time the kiss breaks he's shaking a little from the exertion, and he just...tips sideways with a groan, carrying Jedao right along with him as he collapses onto the bed. Conveniently--and quite honestly not intentionally--well away from the wet spot.
"You've fucked me to death," he murmurs, and his voice is a hoarse, fucked out rasp, the words almost slurred. "Gonna jus' die here," he adds, and pulls Jedao tight against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into the nape of his neck.
"Do not fall asleep," Jedao warns, even as he slumps contentedly in Fives' arms. "I will tip you out the window buck naked into the bushes if you're still here in the morning, I will have no mercy, every man for himself, law of the sea -" Any further hyperbolics are cut off as Jedao himself yawns.
"Right," Fives agrees sleepily, breath warm against Jedao's skin and nose dragging lightly through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "No sleeping. Just... rest for a bit." And snuggle, which he's very industriously doing, even if he won't risk actually saying anything about that. He's pretty much expecting Jedao to kick his ass out of the bed any second, but until he does Fives is going to enjoy every damn second.
"Yeah," he agrees, because that sounds nice, but then immediately ruins Fives' reverie - "Let me up for a second."
He doesn't have the energy or the will to actually get clean, but if he doesn't give himself at least a cursory wipe now, he'll regret it in the morning.
Well, he was trying to be delicate, but if needs must.
"Fives, we are about to end up glued together and it will not be sexy, it will be the most unsexy thing that has ever happened to you, I swear to christ," Jedao informs him, tugging at Fives' arm.
"Oh... oh, yeah... sorry." He manages to sound both a little more alert and distinctly chagrined at Jedao's explanation. He's honestly never been in a position to find out about little details like that. Quick fucks with strangers in bathrooms and back halls just don't really lead to things like getting stuck together with drying come.
He hopes Jedao doesn't notice--or doesn't mind, if he does--that he sneaks another soft kiss to the nape of his neck before (still reluctantly) letting go of him and rolling a little away. He supposes this is his cue to get up and leave. Which he'll do any second now. Really he will.
He wriggles gingerly out of bed, breath hitching and hissing in odd moments as he stretches out the freshly-fucked ache in his muscles before it really sets in. He fishes an already dirty - barely, but he flew home in it - T-shirt out of the hamper to scrub between his legs, and the places lube and sweat and come were all dripping slowly down his thighs. He folds the shirt over, roughly, climbs back into bed on his knees, and uses a dry side to clean Fives, too, with brisk, gentle motions.
If he were being properly paranoid, he'd go back and bury the shirt in the middle of the rest of the laundry, but Fives is so beautiful under his hands, burnished golden brown, shiny with sweat, broad and warm and trying not to show his nervous hunger for affection. Jedao tosses the shirt back to the hamper instead.
Then he leans in, steals a soft peck on the lips, and settles back against Fives' body, facing him this time.
"Really don't fall asleep, though," he cautions one more time, before letting his eyes slip closed and nuzzling Fives' neck.
Fives can't resist the urge to watch as Jedao climbs out of bed, to appreciate the play of muscles under sweat-slicked skin, and the way his breath hitches as he stretches. The knowledge that it's because of him is a warm, satisfying feeling in his chest. He should get up, he knows, but he thinks taking these last few moments to memorize the way Jedao looks, fucked out and tired and sexy as hell--even in the process of wiping lube and sweat and come (oh jesus, his come)--off his ass and thighs, is worth the embarrassment of actually getting chased out.
It takes him completely by surprise when Jedao climbs back onto the bed and wipes him down with the same shirt, and he hisses a little at the over-stimulation, colors a bit in embarrassment at being cleaned like a child... and wants to keep this moment in his memory forever, just for how gentle Jedao's being, and the almost tender look on his face. He barely has time to process that he's been kissed before Jedao's settling in against him, and he reflexively curls an around around him to hold him close, and slings a leg over his at the same time. It's more than he'd ever expected, and it's almost as good as the sex: just getting to curl close against Jedao, feel his warmth and listen to his breath. Press his nose into sweat damp hair and just... breathe him in.
"No sleeping," he agrees again, though his voice is definitely going bleary again. "Just resting."
"Into the hedge," he reiterates, getting a hand up against Fives' chest, just to feel it.
"I needed this," Jedao whispers, after a long lull of slow breathing. He's just awake enough for the words to be clear, close enough to sleep that he feels a little bit far away, somewhere it might be safe to say such a thing from. And Jedao wants to say it, because it's true. You were so good would probably trip Fives' self-consciousness again, whether or not he believed it, and thank you sounds odd even to the part of him still processing. "I'm really glad you were here."
"Mhmmm," he agrees sleepily, though it fades into a contented hum as Jedao rests his hand on his chest.
No matter what promises he's made--or at least implied--he's almost asleep when Jedao speaks again, and he doesn't even blink his eyes open at the whispered words. He can feel Jedao's breath against his neck, the warmth and solidity of him under his hands and pressed up against him. He feels more at peace than he can remember in years.
"Me too," he finally whispers back, so soft there's barely enough breath behind them to ruffle Jedao's hair. "I... I'm really glad." Even if he can never have it again, he can't even begin to express--can't really begin to process--what this has meant to him.
He wasn't lying earlier, about sex knocking him out, and that was before the insomnia, the jet lag, the iceberg of numb haggard weariness looming constantly beneath the sharp glittering cap of polished hypervigilance. By the time Fives finds the coherency or the courage to speak, Jedao is already fast asleep.
Fives... well, he probably would have been fine if they'd only gone for one round. He's young, healthy, resilient, and not functioning through the kind of lingering damage that Jedao carries with him. But they hadn't only gone for one, and three rounds later he's physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and possibly more comfortable than he can ever remember being. Jedao is warm and solid against him and his breathing is deep and even, and he just means to let rest his eyes and enjoy the closeness for a few minutes. Really. Five minutes later his lips are pressed to Jedao's temple and he's out like a light.
He wakes up, soundless and still and suddenly, at the first optimistic notes of a birdsong outside. He blinks, reconciling himself to the the shift, fully alert less than a second after full unconsciousness. The lights are on and his window is still dark. He isn't gasping or panicking. Fives feels like a furnace, the motion of his breathing slow and steady, his embrace warm and strong.
The robin outside, undeterred by the hour remaining until dawn, makes another go at it.
Thanks, bird, he thinks, wryly.
If Fives were one year older, he thinks, he'd be really mean right now. Wake him up sharp, pinching his nipple or the shell of his ear, actually make him stumble out the window and trail back into the house, in humiliated fear of discover, through some other route with no connection to Jedao's room. But it's barely after four o'clock. Dad will be up first - he's probably awake already, but he won't let himself go downstairs and have his first breakfast (terrible, sugary cereal, to fortify him for the Proper Cooked Family Meal to come) until four forty-five, and then no one else will be in the hallways until Shiro at six, unless -
Fives is still nineteen, comfortable and comfortably worn out and with no reason to be up with the dawn. He doesn't so much as twitch at the birdsong, and when Jedao shakes his shoulder he just tightens his arms around him with a quiet, sullen grumble that's mostly lost in Jedao's hair. He doesn't want to be awake, he wants to curl into the warm body pressed against him and sleep for at least a few more hours... though his morning erection has other ideas where it's pressed into Jedao's hip.
Jedao huffs, and feels too - too okay, for the first time in a long time, to really be as exasperated as he wants to be. He wriggles a hand in between them, gives Fives a few slow easy pulls before squeezes, painfully hard at the base, at the same time that he covers Fives' mouth with his other hand.
"You want some of that, you need to be awake enough to keep quiet," he hisses in Fives' ear.
Fives rocks his hips into the touch with a quiet groan that's mostly muffled against Jedao's hair, still more asleep than not and reacting on instinct to the sweet pressure and friction. That changes abruptly when Jedao squeezes, and his eyes fly open with an offended yelp. At approximately the same time he knees Jedao reflexively in the thigh and then bites down on the hand covering his mouth, not awake enough yet to have any real idea of where he is and what's going on or why someone's covering his mouth and trying to crush his dick.
Fortunately, he expected most of that, and the yelp comes out muffled. When Fives tries to bite him, he pushes his hand in farther, getting the awkward wedge of his hand between Fives' teeth instead of the more vulnerable small bones of his fingers, and making him splutter and gag long enough that he can pull his hand back. The knee gets him in muscle - not comfortable, but not debilitating.
He loosens his grip enough to be merely uncomfortable in turn.
"You brought this on yourself, sweetheart," he informs Fives dryly. He told you not fall asleep. "Are you awake now?"
By the time Jedao pulls his hand back and Fives can stop gagging he's definitely awake enough to remember where he is and what's going on. He's still peeved at being woken up by what felt like Jedao trying to rip his damn dick off, though, and gives him a surly look from beneath lowered brows. It doesn't make it any easier not to push into Jedao's grip, though.
"You fell asleep too," he points out. Otherwise he could have kicked him out hours ago, clearly. But he takes a deep breath and scrubs a hand across still sleep-bleary eyes. "And yes, I'm definitely awake. Were you planning on doing anything in particular with that?" His gaze dips down, towards where he can't actually see Jedao's hand curled around him, but christ can he feel it. And it's probably telling--in a way he really kind of wishes it weren't--that he's still hard as a rock in Jedao's hand despite the way he was woken up.
Jedao, in his own entirely fair opinion, had given Fives more than enough warning that Jedao couldn't be relied on for assistance, and he's being entirely magnanimous re: the hedge. Or he will be.
"Maybe," he allows, although he doesn't stroke again, not yet. This is also a small mercy, all things considered. "When does your mother usually wake up?"
"Before I usually do," he points out, rolling his eyes. He's nineteen, he's not exactly known for springing out of bed at the crack of dawn, unless he has an early practice and then he more drags himself than springs. "... but she doesn't generally come down until five-thirty, unless she has a really early meeting."
He glances towards the still dark windows then back at Jedao. "What time is it?"
Why would you not know everything about everyone in your household, Jedao thinks, in a voice that sounds mostly like his father's, but it's not as though he disagrees. But - forty-five minutes to scout the hallways, bring Fives back nightwear from his guestroom to wear in transit, send him over, find something innocuous looking to smuggle his graduation clothes in, carry those over, and then take a goddamn shower. Perfectly doable.
"Near four hundred. We have half an hour before we need to move." He figures it can't hurt to pad it, at this point. He finally gives Fives another slow pull. "What was it you were saying?"
His mother is not quite as... eccentric as Uncle Miki, and while Fives has absorbed many of his lessons over the years almost as thoroughly as his own children he hasn't completely internalized the obsession with information or the paranoia. Though he really does know his mother's schedule and habits better than is probably anything like normal. Or appropriate. He'll blame Shiro and Uncle Miki for that if it ever comes up.
"Plenty of-" He cuts off with a strangled gasp as Jedao gives him another stroke, and a shiver runs down his spine. "Oh jesus, don't stop. Please," he rasps, hips jerking into the friction as he leans in to catch Jedao's lips for an almost bruising kiss.
The kiss is electric, direct and demanding, like Fives figured out how to give him the sensation of being slammed into a wall with just their mouths. Jedao jerks his own hips a little, not yet erect but abruptly interested. Jedao keeps stroking, a little more roughly in response to the kiss, dragging Fives' foreskin along the shaft.
Fives pushes up and over Jedao, moving on instinct more than anything else. To cover him with his body, push him into the mattress with his weight, to give himself a better angle to rock into that grip, rough and confident and perfect. He doesn't even know exactly what he wants, just more. More of Jedao's touch, his voice, the heat of his mouth and the callouses on his hands and the patchwork of scars on his body. Everything.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he mumbles against Jedao's lips, then sinks in to kiss him again.
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By the time the kiss breaks he's shaking a little from the exertion, and he just...tips sideways with a groan, carrying Jedao right along with him as he collapses onto the bed. Conveniently--and quite honestly not intentionally--well away from the wet spot.
"You've fucked me to death," he murmurs, and his voice is a hoarse, fucked out rasp, the words almost slurred. "Gonna jus' die here," he adds, and pulls Jedao tight against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into the nape of his neck.
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He doesn't have the energy or the will to actually get clean, but if he doesn't give himself at least a cursory wipe now, he'll regret it in the morning.
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"Fives, we are about to end up glued together and it will not be sexy, it will be the most unsexy thing that has ever happened to you, I swear to christ," Jedao informs him, tugging at Fives' arm.
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He hopes Jedao doesn't notice--or doesn't mind, if he does--that he sneaks another soft kiss to the nape of his neck before (still reluctantly) letting go of him and rolling a little away. He supposes this is his cue to get up and leave. Which he'll do any second now. Really he will.
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He wriggles gingerly out of bed, breath hitching and hissing in odd moments as he stretches out the freshly-fucked ache in his muscles before it really sets in. He fishes an already dirty - barely, but he flew home in it - T-shirt out of the hamper to scrub between his legs, and the places lube and sweat and come were all dripping slowly down his thighs. He folds the shirt over, roughly, climbs back into bed on his knees, and uses a dry side to clean Fives, too, with brisk, gentle motions.
If he were being properly paranoid, he'd go back and bury the shirt in the middle of the rest of the laundry, but Fives is so beautiful under his hands, burnished golden brown, shiny with sweat, broad and warm and trying not to show his nervous hunger for affection. Jedao tosses the shirt back to the hamper instead.
Then he leans in, steals a soft peck on the lips, and settles back against Fives' body, facing him this time.
"Really don't fall asleep, though," he cautions one more time, before letting his eyes slip closed and nuzzling Fives' neck.
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It takes him completely by surprise when Jedao climbs back onto the bed and wipes him down with the same shirt, and he hisses a little at the over-stimulation, colors a bit in embarrassment at being cleaned like a child... and wants to keep this moment in his memory forever, just for how gentle Jedao's being, and the almost tender look on his face. He barely has time to process that he's been kissed before Jedao's settling in against him, and he reflexively curls an around around him to hold him close, and slings a leg over his at the same time. It's more than he'd ever expected, and it's almost as good as the sex: just getting to curl close against Jedao, feel his warmth and listen to his breath. Press his nose into sweat damp hair and just... breathe him in.
"No sleeping," he agrees again, though his voice is definitely going bleary again. "Just resting."
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"I needed this," Jedao whispers, after a long lull of slow breathing. He's just awake enough for the words to be clear, close enough to sleep that he feels a little bit far away, somewhere it might be safe to say such a thing from. And Jedao wants to say it, because it's true. You were so good would probably trip Fives' self-consciousness again, whether or not he believed it, and thank you sounds odd even to the part of him still processing. "I'm really glad you were here."
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No matter what promises he's made--or at least implied--he's almost asleep when Jedao speaks again, and he doesn't even blink his eyes open at the whispered words. He can feel Jedao's breath against his neck, the warmth and solidity of him under his hands and pressed up against him. He feels more at peace than he can remember in years.
"Me too," he finally whispers back, so soft there's barely enough breath behind them to ruffle Jedao's hair. "I... I'm really glad." Even if he can never have it again, he can't even begin to express--can't really begin to process--what this has meant to him.
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The robin outside, undeterred by the hour remaining until dawn, makes another go at it.
Thanks, bird, he thinks, wryly.
If Fives were one year older, he thinks, he'd be really mean right now. Wake him up sharp, pinching his nipple or the shell of his ear, actually make him stumble out the window and trail back into the house, in humiliated fear of discover, through some other route with no connection to Jedao's room. But it's barely after four o'clock. Dad will be up first - he's probably awake already, but he won't let himself go downstairs and have his first breakfast (terrible, sugary cereal, to fortify him for the Proper Cooked Family Meal to come) until four forty-five, and then no one else will be in the hallways until Shiro at six, unless -
Jedao shakes Fives' shoulder, urging him awake.
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"You want some of that, you need to be awake enough to keep quiet," he hisses in Fives' ear.
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He loosens his grip enough to be merely uncomfortable in turn.
"You brought this on yourself, sweetheart," he informs Fives dryly. He told you not fall asleep. "Are you awake now?"
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"You fell asleep too," he points out. Otherwise he could have kicked him out hours ago, clearly. But he takes a deep breath and scrubs a hand across still sleep-bleary eyes. "And yes, I'm definitely awake. Were you planning on doing anything in particular with that?" His gaze dips down, towards where he can't actually see Jedao's hand curled around him, but christ can he feel it. And it's probably telling--in a way he really kind of wishes it weren't--that he's still hard as a rock in Jedao's hand despite the way he was woken up.
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"Maybe," he allows, although he doesn't stroke again, not yet. This is also a small mercy, all things considered. "When does your mother usually wake up?"
Unknown variables.
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He glances towards the still dark windows then back at Jedao. "What time is it?"
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"Near four hundred. We have half an hour before we need to move." He figures it can't hurt to pad it, at this point. He finally gives Fives another slow pull. "What was it you were saying?"
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"Plenty of-" He cuts off with a strangled gasp as Jedao gives him another stroke, and a shiver runs down his spine. "Oh jesus, don't stop. Please," he rasps, hips jerking into the friction as he leans in to catch Jedao's lips for an almost bruising kiss.
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"Fuck, you're perfect," he mumbles against Jedao's lips, then sinks in to kiss him again.
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