Eiffel can't use his hands like this when he's leaning on them and he's mad about it, so without breaking contact with Jedao's face, letting those hands tug in his hair and hold him in place, he gently moves closer, finding the couch on either side of Jedao's legs with his knees so he can kneel in his lap, one hand now draped loosely on the back of the couch while his left hand strokes clumsy lines of nails up Jedao's scalp and scrapes through his short hair.