His sharp breaths are uneven as he feels Francis' hand, inhaling sharply at the touch in places he... he hadn't realised, had he? That no one's touched him here in that long. He'd stopped thinking about it. But here's Francis' hand, now. And Francis kisses him, and Raju leans up into it with a rough, hungry noise. Francis' hand brushes over his nipple and he shudders, mouth opening wider as he gasps and feels Francis' tongue moving inside.

One arm lifts from the blanket and falls back, and then it lifts again, slow and helpless not to, moving here and there over parts of Francis like it doesn't know where it's going. It brushes with uneven pressure over a neck, an ear, over soft skin and what must be a jaw, up onto a cheek, then down again over Francis' neck and across to his chest, then back to grip over his shoulder, loosely at first and then all at once stronger. His other hand lifts too but when it falls back again it stays, fingers curling, and the need to reach out with it moves instead into his body and he writhes, then arches his back to try and move his chest against Francis' hand, or his chest, or anything that's there.