I hope so makes Raju laugh. Any other time the laugh might be a smile instead but that tight knife's edge of pleasure turns it into the kind of ungraceful giggle he's never once let out while in uniform, and he lets it out now into Francis' hair while Francis tucks his face in against Raju's neck. Raju feels Francis' groan against his skin, feels wetness splashing up onto his jacket, tightens his hands and he's coming over that knife's edge too, with stifled noises and gasps and then panting, locking his knees so he doesn't drop while Francis is still leaning against him.

A few breaths, a moment, and then he's sliding down against the door, working to move slowly even under their combined weight, moving his hands to Francis' stomach and side to hold him as he carefully lowers them down. As he does it he kisses the side of Francis' head, then the top of it, then his forehead as he settles against the floor, legs with their lowered trousers tangled around Francis'. "The first time you've ruined my shirt instead of my trousers," he mutters, breathless, then: "Look at me straight-on so I can kiss you properly."