Proko exhales something like relief when Jiang's hand covers his, urges it higher. Heat throbs through him in answer and he looks away from the window, down at their hands. There's no rush, but he wants it.

He twists in his seat so he can get at Jiang's button and fly easier, and maybe he's staring as his hand disappears inside to feel Jiang's cock through whatever he's got on. It doesn't matter, because maybe there's no rush but soon enough Proko's guiding Jiang's dick out so he can see it, so he can stroke it, without denim and cotton getting in his way.