Francis' laugh is a strangled, beautiful noise, and Raju catches his own moan in his throat, jerks his hips closer to Francis at the nails raking over his trousers to try and get more pressure, more sensation, and feels the movement bump against the hand he's got around Francis, then the breath in Raju's taken turns from an amused noise into a sharp gasp. Rama. Rama, in that tone, and Francis' head on his shoulder, his hand moving desperately over any part of Raju that it can grab. Raju turns his head to feel his cheek against Francis' hair, the damp of it chill against his skin and perfect, Francis' desperation, the way he's turning to Raju for shelter in the face of it, all perfect.

"I have you," he breathes, grip tightening just a little, thumb moving over the head and then the rest of his fingers moving up over it as well, and then gently back down again. "You can let go. Let go for me Francis, let me feel you. I have you."