Raju's writhing gains a distinctly urgent tone, movements faster and harder as he squirms. His hand's been clenched around the cloth for a moment before he remembers what it's for, and it's a moment again before he realises why Francis has handed it to him.

"I'm ready now," he complains, the hand on Francis' hair moving down to his shoulder to clench there. "Francis—"

He laughs breathily, shaking his head. Francis handed him the cloth, and how he has to try and focus on what he needs to be doing with it. He takes his hand off Francis' shoulder and moves the cloth over to it, then reaches down, laughing again when he feels what he's doing and realises all the rubbing he's going to have to do here is going to send this current of sensation rushing through him even harder. "Francis," he laughs. "You're terrible. Do you know what this feels like?"