Raju's hand clutches where it's led desperately, feeling Francis shuddering against him and then going still. Raju is still against him. This slow, drifting calm— it's rare, he remembers. Rare to feel this way afterward. Maybe this is what Francis meant, when he'd said that earlier. The thought wanders slowly around his mind, some place in the background; the sensation of Francis over him is more prominent in front of it, the knowledge of his body, its size to match his, of a height and stockier, solid. The sensation of his skin, warm and soft and here, right here, with him. And he's warm.

"'s this what you meant?" he murmurs when the thought ambles back around into view again, the movement of his mouth lazy and satiated. "When you said... you wanted to savour me?"