goingtobeunwell

God, he’s still fighting so hard. It’s impressive, and a little frustrating, but mostly it just pushes Crozier to keep going. He leans his handless arm against Rama’s leg, pinning him back against the door while he levels a full-out attack on his inner thighs, all light touches and caresses in the name of tickling the living daylights out of this man.

If he gets him to laugh, to really laugh, he’ll take those cuffs away and bring him off properly, in whatever method he chooses.

He couldn’t say how long he needs to be held, not knowing he needed this in the first place. But he did need it, the pressure of his hold and the feeling of Rama’s head tucked against his, and slowly he feels every muscle in his body begin to unravel. He leans forward slightly and exhales; Rama’s breath against his hair is comforting in ways that he couldn’t possibly explain.

He holds onto him for a long while. It’s indulgent and not something he would have ever allowed himself, except with this man right here. It helps, it all helps.

“You’ll help me up when I ultimately fall,” he says, and it’s not a question. When disappointment and bitter sadness overwhelms him once more he knows he’ll have Rama there to help steady him.

There’s a sudden fear that he’ll lose him too, but he won’t entertain it. He can’t.

It starts as hitching movement in Raju’s chest that his clenched jaw and held breath behind it doesn’t allow to turn into real laughter. He rolls his lips between his teeth to pin them there. But the first gasp that sneaks in cracks the shell open and a laugh that’s more breath than noise is still laughter, even stifled behind lips pressed tightly together. So far as Raju is concerned, anyway, compared to what Raju is used to and what he’s trying for. Especially as those lips begin to curve despite all Raju’s attempts to stop them and impulsively Raju grasps at the excuse to take that as a loss if losing might mean relief from the glut of sensation underneath Francis’ fingertips.

“Stop!” he says, finally looking down at Francis. Laughter sneaks around the edges of the word whenever he opens his mouth, but it might as well, he’s as good as admitting defeat anyway. “Stopstopstop. Stop.”

He pants openmouthed, feeling his smile, aware of the still half-hard feeling of his cock, realising his arms are bent with linked hands pulling at the back of his head. He hadn’t thought about doing it, had needed to grab something and had needed something outside his focus itself keeping them there. At least they’re still above his head, and against the door. He doesn’t have to lose at everything.

At the third or fourth ‘stop’ Crozier pulls his hand away, the very pleased look on his face remaining on his face. As far as he’s concerned they both won the game, though if Rama needs it spelled out he’ll let him have it. He braces himself with his hand against the door and stands, mouth brushing against Rama’s cheek as he reaches for the hands above his head to bring them back down.

He can’t quite unlock the cuffs yet, but the idea is to provide as much relief as possible. Just letting his arms rest ought to do wonders for Ram.

“You did so well,” he says, pressing his mouth against his jaw again. He kisses along his smooth skin, lips tickled by his mustache as he finally brings their mouths together again for a hungry kiss.

The certainty in his voice, once his voice comes, makes Raju smile against Francis' hair. "I'll sit you in front of a fire," he confirms. He doesn't need to argue that Francis won't need it; they both know he likely will. "A blanket around your shoulders. I'll make your dinner, and read to you if you want it, and sit with you if you don't. I'll wash your hair and your feet until you can stand to do it yourself again. Anything you need. I'll help you up."

Raju presses a kiss to the side of Francis' head, lips half-catching an ear. The solidity of Francis' chest, his sides, his back, all feels wonderful under Raju's arms. It feels wonderful to touch him now, to be allowed to comfort where he'd been standing back before. "You know," he murmurs, "I admire you more for all this. It might be easy to want, but that doesn't make it easy."

When Francis' mouth first brushes against his cheek Raju chases it, but he's distracted an instant later by the movement of his arms. The pain of it shows in little grimaces and quiet grunts of effort as his muscles and joints are guided down and away from that now-familiar angle, and then Francis' mouth is against his jaw, and his head is moving back to give Francis room without Raju once thinking about it. Then their lips are together and Raju moans into it, leaning into Francis' weight, hands grasping at whatever they can reach from where they're cuffed together between their bodies.

The crotch, incidentally. That's the thing that he can reach. It's plenty close enough to the place his hands rest. Bending his arms takes more effort than it should just now with his muscles trying to insist on doing no more of anything at all, but if the gesture effects Francis even a little then it's worth the work.

Rama lists all the way he’ll care for him, all the ways he has cared for him in the past, those little things that make him feel so loved and cared for, and he feels that last little bit of shame get buried down again. It doesn’t leave him, he doesn’t think that part of him will ever heal, but he can live with himself.

He’s the only one who could express his admiration so openly and for it not to feel insincere. He believes that Rama feels that way; that somehow, impossibly so, he believes Crozier is worthy of admiration. He’s not certain if he can respond - and what to say? Thank him? Tell him that he hopes beyond measure that he won’t completely disappoint him? No, but he can return the sentiment, and turns his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He likes the life they’re beginning to find here. “Perhaps it won’t feel so terrible to fail for a change,” he finally says, having pulled back just enough to speak to him again.

Rama’s hands brush against the tightness in the front of his trousers and he gasps into his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting him to push back, which in hindsight is a very silly move considering this is Rama so of course he’s going to give as good as he got. He laughs slightly with his lips pressed to his chin, thrusting his pelvis into his hands in approval.

“Your arms must ache,” he murmurs, massaging each upper arm playfully. He starts to drift, moving down lower and lower, and then finally drops back down to Ram’s neglected cock. He doesn’t intend on tickling him again, but he also doesn’t immediately take him back into his hand.

Francis' response is a satisfying one, a gasp and a laugh — for some reason Raju hadn't been expecting the laugh — and he gives Francis another squeeze as Francis thrusts into his hands, but then Francis is moving downward again. Raju doesn't quite expect more tickling but Francis doesn't do anything else either, and for a moment Raju only watches him. He's doing it on purpose. Making Raju wait again. Raju tries to make a face, but it comes out smiling.

"Are you waiting for me?" he asks, innocently. "Maybe I should..." In front of him as they are now, after all, his arms are bound at the right level. Watching Francis' face, Raju reaches out to — well, to take matters into his own hands.

Raju keeps his arms and hands on him as Francis leans back, Francis' body close beneath his arms, and Raju studies him. He studies the words, the scope of them and how they feel in his chest and his throat and the pit of his stomach. Francis, for one reason or another, has always been the reason Raju ever tries to examine these things. He's the only reason the idea ever seems a little less hopeless, when Raju does.

"Maybe it won't," he rasps quietly and smiles, the expression small at first but growing over Raju's face.

Crozier gives a playful little growl as Rama’s hands start pawing at him again. “You’ve been so patient all this time, what’s the hurry?” he teases, knowing full-well that their game is over and Rama is just Rama again. But all this touching gives him another idea, and he picks up Ram’s hands and guides them to the front of his trousers.

“Help me with these,” he smiles, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Raju's smile is quick and wicked, and stays wide and pleased over his face as Francis leans in to kiss him. As they kiss Raju's hands work, his fingers not tired and lazy in the way his arms are trying to be, and soon Francis' fly, simple with its single button and only a zipper underneath, is open and Raju's hands are making their way inside. His fingers brush Francis' length, a little greeting before he moves to push Francis' trousers down, one side of his waistband at a time.

"You know damn well what the hurry is," he mutters against Francis' face, grinning. "You're the one who's been teasing all this time."

He can’t very well argue with something that’s absolutely true, but he does grin right back against his lips as Rama attacks the front of his trousers. He shivers; that cool air suddenly on a very sensitive, very warm part of him hits sharply, making him very aware of how needy he’s actually feeling.

Well, he can fix this frustration for them both. He pushes his hips against Ram’s and takes them both into his calloused hand. “Is this better?” he breathes, letting them slide together, hot and firm in his palm.

“Mm. Much,” Raju says, feeling those calluses against one side and Francis’ length against the other, rough and soft skin both stirring what had been at half mast toward full hardness again.

“But you’ve kept my hands away from you for so long.” He leans forward, breaking up complaint and request with a nip at Francis’ jaw. It’s still a bit of a thrill to be able do that; it isn’t quite the same act, he’s realising, when a kiss there mostly gets you a mouthful of hair. “And taken yourself in hand already. What should I do to you now?”

It's an easy answer, one delivered with a very deliberate stroke to both of their lengths. "You should kiss me." He pushes forward and brings their noses together, slipping down against his cheek with a breathy laugh.

He'll let Rama bridge the gap between them, his own focus on the heat, dizzying feeling of bringing them together like this in his hand. He remembers talking about this when they weren't allowed to touch, and had been wondering what it might feel like ever since.

Raju doesn't hesitate, starts in with Francis' lower lip between his teeth and proceeds from there. But his hands still need something to do, cuffed between their bodies as they are; practised as he is at holding himself mostly still there's no chance of it now, there's too much ready to light up inside him, so while his mouth is busying itself his hands turn in their cuffs to wrap around Francis'. They won't take control there, happy to follow — at least, if Francis is leading anywhere straight away. He isn't quite confident, still, that Francis won't try teasing him again.

Fortunately the urge to laugh again at Rama's little insistent hold on his hands is quelled by the teeth on his lips. He wouldn't dream of teasing him now, not when he's also so thoroughly enjoying himself, but he understands where the worry might come from.

...and yes, it would be a little funny if he tried something like that again right now, but he doesn't have a death wish, and desire is a far stronger motivator than having a laugh. He moves his hand a little faster, pushing his hips forward as he kisses him back in between soft gasps for air, that tight, intense feeling at the back of his navel building and building.

The noise Raju makes into Francis' mouth is insistent and happy and a moment later, as Francis' hand speeds up, he makes another one, more urgent. His hands match Francis' speed and he finds his hips moving, trying to win himself even more friction, even more movement. His kissing is fiercer, more insistent, and one of his legs manages even with his trousers around his knees to wrap itself around Francis' calves. It's an effort to pull him closer, that last, but if it trips Francis' balance a little that's alright too; the door is still behind Raju, still solid enough to hold them up if either of them tips back into it.

Crozier absolutely overbalances and falls forward, hips knocking into his in a kind of lovely, accidental thrust. He turns his head and laughs against the side of Rama’s neck, breathless and amused and horribly desperate for him. He’s quick to regain his equilibrium and starts his hand up again, alternating between pressing quick kisses to his mouth and catching his breath. He’s smiling through it all though, turned on but so endeared and amused that he can’t help himself.

Raju is grinning too, now. Impossible not to feeling Francis' laughter against his neck, his lips against Raju's while he's smiling that way. And the way he'd fallen into Raju, the way it'd felt, the way that his body feels against Raju's now — Raju's going to have to try doing that again sometime. But sometime is vague and far away and there's not much room in Raju's mind for anything but now, with Francis leaning into him and moving his hand that way against the both of them, and happy. Raju's breath is coming faster, loud and rough between kisses, and his hands aren't keeping time with Francis' quite as perfectly as they were.

"I..." Raju starts, and realises his voice is tight with pleasure, and unsteady. "I'm going to... Francis..."

“God,” he gasps, stomach twisting in desire at the sound of Rama’s wavering voice. “God, I hope so.” Because he’s not strong enough to withstand any of this - Ram in that red Imperial Officer’s coat, the polished boots, the coifed mustache. Ram handcuffed and trying to resist the way his mouth must have felt on him, his hand on his thigh, that surprising laugh from a sensitive and ticklish spot. It’s all too good, too playful and silly and undeniably attractive, and Crozier is quickly beginning to realize that Rama himself must just be a weakness. He’s impossibly to resist.

He won’t stop his hand, won’t stop the kisses, turning more and more desperate and messy, until he’s just at the precipice of not being able to do a damn thing but tuck his head against his neck and groan low with his release.

Edited 2024-08-14 13:11 (UTC)

I hope so makes Raju laugh. Any other time the laugh might be a smile instead but that tight knife's edge of pleasure turns it into the kind of ungraceful giggle he's never once let out while in uniform, and he lets it out now into Francis' hair while Francis tucks his face in against Raju's neck. Raju feels Francis' groan against his skin, feels wetness splashing up onto his jacket, tightens his hands and he's coming over that knife's edge too, with stifled noises and gasps and then panting, locking his knees so he doesn't drop while Francis is still leaning against him.

A few breaths, a moment, and then he's sliding down against the door, working to move slowly even under their combined weight, moving his hands to Francis' stomach and side to hold him as he carefully lowers them down. As he does it he kisses the side of Francis' head, then the top of it, then his forehead as he settles against the floor, legs with their lowered trousers tangled around Francis'. "The first time you've ruined my shirt instead of my trousers," he mutters, breathless, then: "Look at me straight-on so I can kiss you properly."

The slow sinking to the floor is appreciated, though less dramatic than the outright collapse Crozier’s body would have probably done if not supported. He feels those light kisses to his face, his forehead, though he doesn’t immediately raise his head when Rama demands it.

“You can’t suddenly start ordering me around,” he mumbles from his vantage point of his face pressed against his neck, the rush of good feelings making him giddy. “You’re still wearing the jacket.”

Raju feels tired and wonderful; his laugh is light and easy with a hint of that earlier giggle still in it and he runs a hand down Francis' back, kisses at his ear and then at the back of his head, the closest to Francis' neck that he can reach without moving either of them too much.

"Well, why don't you order me, then?" he grins, and his voice drops briefly into a very relaxed, very terrible approximation of Francis' accent: "'Rama, I order you to kiss me properly,' and then you don't move, and I have to keep trying while I figure it out."

“Christ,” he mutters, voice very much muffled by the coat still, “is that what I sound like to you?”

He lets out a very long-suffering sigh and shifts slightly, arms finding their way around Rama’s thin waist for a comfortable hold. “Rama,” he says, trying for Deep and Serious. “I order you to kiss me properly.”

Good luck, he’s not going to make it easy.

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