As Proko moves, Jiang just holds still for him. He could come from this, easily. Proko's hips and the vice of his ass, and the long line of his back, and the cant of Jiang's cover perched on the back of his head like it belongs there. Proko stripped naked and Jiang barely out of his uniform.

"Shit," he breathes, squeezing Proko's hips and meeting him, finally. It's a hard, burying thrust. He starts into a counter rhythm.