Since Raju hasn't done anything in particular between the first hiccup and the second one, it's clear that particular groan isn't coming from anything he's doing. Some other time, Francis' frustration might win him some sympathy; here and now it gets him a laugh, pleased and close against his skin as Raju pulls Francis' trousers down to his ankles and leaves them there.

"What's wrong?" he asks, knowing the answer and pleased with Francis, with himself, with the world, with the feeling of the skin under his palms as he slides his hands from Francis' knees up toward his hips, easing Francis' thighs further open. He charts everything he feels underneath his hands as they move, hair or bumps, moles or freckles, calluses or untouched skin, and when his hands move in close to the softness of Francis' balls he brushes his fingertips over them, the barest touch. He bites at his lip, thinking, then moves in just close enough to Francis' cock that when he speaks Francis will feel the air of his breath moving over it. Not close enough for any part of it to touch him now, but if the next hiccup jolts his body in just the right way... There's no guarantee, of course, but Raju thinks he'll have plenty of opportunity to experiment with 'accidental' touch before they're done.

"If you want something, Francis," Raju whispers, looking up at him, "you have to tell me."