Francis' comment gets a breathless, amused noise, shaky with the ghost of laughter either from Francis' joke or Francis' damned fingers. Raju twitches away as Francis explores and then moves back, breathing unsteadily through his mouth. "You said it, not me," he agrees, fingers clenching in the blanket under him before he forces them to straighten again. "I thought you wanted to fuck me, notAah—"

That protest, it turns out, was badly timed, and a particular movement of Francis' fingers pushes a startled, urgent noise out of him, something that might have become laughter if he hadn't clamped down on it so fast. He does it without deciding to, without thinking about it; the muscles of his throat tighten over it as his muscles elsewhere twitch and tense. The noise he lets out after is another breathless one, at himself more than the tickling.

"Than drive me..." he pauses, more careful this time, to see whether Francis is going to continue, and once it's safe finishes, "crazy, Francis," in a gasp, grinning up at the ceiling.