“Mm. Much,” Raju says, feeling those calluses against one side and Francis’ length against the other, rough and soft skin both stirring what had been at half mast toward full hardness again.

“But you’ve kept my hands away from you for so long.” He leans forward, breaking up complaint and request with a nip at Francis’ jaw. It’s still a bit of a thrill to be able do that; it isn’t quite the same act, he’s realising, when a kiss there mostly gets you a mouthful of hair. “And taken yourself in hand already. What should I do to you now?”