"I liked washing you," he corrects, hand moving fondly into Francis' damp hair. He'd gotten distracted instead of combing it out; it's going to be all over the place once it dries. "Not only because of your chest."

For a moment he grins, and then the grin softens into something tender. "But the furs are on the floor. And the floor is worse for your back, and your ribs." His thumb rubs back and forth over Francis' temple. "I won't make healing harder for you. Not even for this."

But then his gaze moves lower, lingering on the sweater and the tight way it sits over the body beneath him—

Raju only realises he's sighing when he feels himself do it. "Maybe if I pull a mattress out here," he murmurs as the movement of his thumb slows, gaze going distant and eyes narrowing. "But I'd have to clean it first, we haven't used it since I came here..."