He lets out a breathy noise, something like a sigh or a laugh that’s tangled up in desire, as Raju moves his mouth over his neck. He thinks briefly of Sophia, her guiding hand and soft yet stern commands, Ross’ steady embrace and chaste kisses to his head after those storms in Antarctica, his hand on Fitzjames’ neck - tenderness in all its many forms, joyful and bittersweet and sad and lovely, lovely. Raju doesn’t quite fit into any category he’s experienced before; he’s wholly unique, someone who will protect him for a change.

He smooths his palm over one of Raju’s perfectly rounded cheeks and hooks his hand underneath, grinding them together with his steady hand. “Jesus, Raju…” he groans, voice dropping low and deep. “I imagined having you for so long…you’re so beautiful, my Raju.”