it hurts and he doesn't love it, not like Fives does, but he doesn't need to, jerks his hips and strokes a little faster, panting along with each drag and scrape, hungry for Fives' hunger, for his helpless tension even as his body looms over Jedao, even as the haphazard slide of his skin on Jedao's cock drives him absolutely wild.
"Come on, baby, do it, get your mess all over me," he whispers on a gentle stroke before carefully applying his nails again.
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.
Jedao doesn't skip a single beat in switching his strokes to his own cock, smearing Fives' come along his own shaft, hot and filthy. Jedao's throat clutches around soft, broken-whimper noises, because he barely has room to move but he loves it anyway, because he's so close, the moment he lets himself think about it, the moment he isn't viciously holding back.
It takes Fives a long beat to realize what Jedao's doing, that the hand that's no longer on him is furiously stripping Jedao's cock. That Jedao is whimper and jerking beneath him and that he needs to feel this, needs to get his own hand on Jedao. He braces himself unsteadily on one forearm and reaches down to curl his own hand around Jedao's, feeling the warm slickness of his come coating Jedao's skin, slicking their grip as he intertwine's their fingers on Jedao's cock. He ducks in to catch Jedao's lips, to swallow his whimpers, to breathe almost desperately against his lips, "please, fuck, lemme feel you. Please, Jedao."
He can't help but arch his shoulders into Jedao's hands, can't do anything but beg wordlessly for the sharp press of his nails again as he continues to jerk him, fast and rough. He's panting still, breathless and sated from his own orgasm but still desperate to feel Jedao come apart beneath him, to feel his come hot over his hand and slicking his skin.
"Fucking perfect," he rasps, and catches Jedao's lips again, kissing him deep and wet and filthy as he urges him on.
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.
He doesn't need to move them, the sharp bite of them into his skin is more than enough--more than enough to make him wish they had time to do this again, because he knows he could get hard again in fucking minutes for this. But that's not what this is about, and he groans into Jedao's mouth as he focuses on the feel of him in his hand, hard and slick and perfect, on the twist and drag of stroking him; brushing his thumb across the head of Jedao's dick on the downstroke, dragging the heel of his hand over it, pulling Jedao's foreskin with it, on ever upstroke. Feeling Jedao buck into his grip, moan into his mouth, come apart, silently, beneath him... though Fives makes up for it with the deep, wracking groan he muffles into Jedao's mouth as he feels his nails split his skin.
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"Come on, baby, do it, get your mess all over me," he whispers on a gentle stroke before carefully applying his nails again.
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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.
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"Such good hands," he mumbles, hips shuddering and twitching, starting to lose his rhythm.
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"Fucking perfect," he rasps, and catches Jedao's lips again, kissing him deep and wet and filthy as he urges him on.
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- 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.
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