goingtobeunwell

Raju notices it too, the breathing. It plays into the picture he makes: Head back and neck exposed, legs spread, hand still around himself and chest moving — moving easily for all the bruises, breath desperate with pleasure and with nothing else. Francis is healing, and he's well. He's happy. Raju's gaze is fixed on him even as Francis' head falls back and Raju's own panting begins to slow. His hands start to slide away from himself.

He's hot, he realises. Strange to feel that way in this place, and he's sure that it won't last, but he feels hot. Flushed, maybe, and he wants all these clothes shed so Francis can look on it, can look on on all of him as he's been allowed to look on all of Francis now. In these moments after he feels like he could do it, cold or not. Maybe it's for the best he'll have to wait, that they're already done. He'll decide again on a warm day.

Francis is beautiful. Raju wants to touch him, still; maybe he's always going to. Now that the temptation to perform something more athletic is done, maybe he can. "Could you stay still?" he asks, still a little breathless. "If I kissed you? Right now?"

Could he stay still? What a question! He came so hard he doesn’t think he has any bones left, but then Rama follows it up with the prospect of kissing and he growls low in his throat.

“Yes.” He takes his hand off of himself, placing it back over his thigh, looking down at him with his head still leaning back against the chair. “Yes.”

He could stay still for a kiss.

Raju's smile breaks over his face and he stands, finding his balance as he pulls his drawers and trousers up, tucks himself in, lets them stay unzipped with the ends of his shirts bunched up behind him as he makes his way over. His legs are weak, still; once he's close enough he lets himself stumble so he can catch himself on Francis' chair with a grin, one hand on each armrest. It's tantalizing being this close to all that bared skin even now, and since Francis is watching him Raju lets himself look, eyes moving over Francis slowly. Then he smiles into Francis' eyes, lowering himself just enough to press their lips together.

His head swims as Rama approaches, soft and rumpled and looking as delicious as he had just moments prior when he still had a hand on himself. His body couldn’t possibly respond a second time - maybe if allowed to rest in between, but he’s a realistic man - but he could see how that alone would be enough for him.

But he stays still, as he said he would, the only movement being his head as he gently tips it forward to press back against Rama’s very soft and kissable lips.

Raju takes his time, smiling against Francis' lips, letting the kiss go on until he's nearly satisfied — as close as he's going to get before they're able to lay together afterward, until Francis is healed enough that Raju wouldn't worry about one or both of them moving too much in their sleep. Then he pulls back and smiles at Francis for a moment from here, the distance the he likes most, where he can see very clearly the colour of those eyes.

Then he sinks down onto one armrest, not sure if he should keep his distance any more, but wanting to be close. And he can lean against the chair himself this way, if only a little. That's probably for the best, with how relaxed he feels.

"I think I could fall asleep," he murmurs. "We weren't doing anything important before, were we?"

Falling asleep in Rama's arms sounds wonderful. He can't have it now, so he'll have to add it to the very long list of things that he Wants when he's fully healed, but he can dream about it. Imagine what it might be like to have Rama and then fall asleep in his arms.

"You were reading," he says, leaning forward with a grunt. "And I was bathing. Which I need to do again now."

He huff out a soft laugh. "Had I known that's all you needed to exhaust yourself...well."

"Mm." Raju's gaze sharpens a little as Francis starts making moves to stand, pushing enough of his lethargy aside to watch and see whether he can do it without pain. He might be feeling a little better than he was, and they might not have touched at all until afterward, but last time...

Well, he'll see. It's hard to focus on worrying just now with Francis laughing softly and joking with him. "Have you been wanting to exhaust me?" he grins, eyes still tired and half lidded. "Once you're well I could suggest some more techniques."

“Maybe I have.” He turns his head slightly and puts his hand on Rama’s thigh, laughing again to himself. It’s a runaway locomotive now, this thing between them, barreling off with no easy way of stopping. “I look forward to hearing your ideas. In the meantime I’ll just imagine them for myself, mn?”

Best if Rama doesn’t try to list out all little notions, so he can focus on getting himself out of the chair. He’s starting to chill now, and the evidence of their exertions beginning to grow uncomfortable. His hand lowers to the arm, knuckles turning white from clutching it hard as he starts to rise.

He’s still moving slowly, but he does so without a wince or grimace. The thoughtful planning of each movement has served him well so far, and once he’s standing on his feet there doesn’t seem to be anything pulled or knocked out of place. He stretches slightly, then picks up the flannel to unceremoniously wash himself again in the cold water of the basin.

Raju watches him, appreciative even without Francis making it a show, watchful of any of the signs of pain he's become too familiar with. But Raju, at least, can leave and do other things when he needs to escape the reminder of what'd almost happened. Francis can't.

Time passes, and Francis continues to handle the whole thing fairly well, considering. Maybe because things do change, even if too slowly - The bruises change colour and continue to fade. Francis moves a little more quickly, a little more easily. Raju finds himself imagining what Francis looks like under his clothes, and remembers the way he'd disregarded those kinds of thoughts before without so much as a decision about what they were, and doesn't know what that says about him, or whether he needs to do something about it.

But Francis is here, and Raju knows now how he feels about the man and what he wants with him, more or less. Not all of it has to do with sex.

Francis' hair gleams in the sunlight coming from the window. The sight of it is beautiful, in the way it's always beautiful, and picks out every individual uneven strand in a bright halo of light. It's been growing untamed long enough that the texture is starting to change, frizzy and dry in a way that might suit other men perfectly well but the man who in all other ways Raju looks at with desire stirring inside him...

"You said I could trim your beard a couple weeks ago," Raju says after a minute or two of steady staring, from his place leaning against the wall. "Do you remember? Do you still mean it?"

Crozier’s been deep in thought, mostly pondering the finer points of possibly constructing a fish weir in the thawing river. If successful they wouldn’t have to worry about food - if successful no one in Milton would have to worry about food. He’s still troubled by the thought of putting effort into a community that would turn against them as quickly as they had during the town hall, but if he was being honest with himself, not helping at all doesn’t sit right with his conscience.

He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t realize Rama is in the same room as him. He lifts his head when he speaks, smiling softly as he lays eyes on him. Rama stares quite frequently; he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it, that softness behind his eyes that he’s helping to create.

He laughs quietly and brings his hand to his beard, patting down some of the wayward hairs. “Is it that bad?” It probably is. “I meant it, yes. I still do.”

The soft smile that'd been mirroring Francis' deepens with pleasure. There's something in Francis saying yes to him, of course, but there's something about him letting Raju do this, too. Even with how long Francis has been injured, Raju hasn't tired of taking care of him yet.

"Good," Raju says, leaning this way and that to see different angles on the beard in the bright light and noting spots he wants to come back to once he can. "We should do it while there's good light, I'd hate to do a bad job of it."

There’s nothing quite like making Rama smile. If he hadn’t agreed to getting his beard trimmed before he gladly would have at that smile alone. His breath hitches in his throat; maybe he’ll touch his head while he trims his beard. Wouldn’t that be lovely? At the very least he’ll be able to look up into his beautiful brown eyes.

“The light is pleasing enough now,” he says, tipping his head in spite of himself. “What do you think?”

"I think that's a wonderful idea," he says, pleased, and moves close enough to raise a hand to Francis' face. This kind of gesture in this kind of way is new to him still, and the pleasure on his face leans a little fascinated as he watches his hand scratching through the wiry hair over Francis' cheek.

"You're in the perfect spot already," Raju goes on, other hand coming to rest naturally over Francis' waist, light and barely touching. "I've been admiring it. Sunlight compliments you beautifully."

He supposes that one day he’ll grow used to the sweet words and sincere compliments, but today is not that day. He glances away with an awkward smile, familiar little flip in his belly as Rama touches his waist and sings his praises. He does find himself leaning into the touch slightly, doing so without even realizing his body has started to automatically respond to Rama this way.

“Does it?” he says, laughing quietly. Rama is genuine with his compliments, even if it’s still hard to for Crozier to believe. He’s learned now to accept and even be a little pleased by them.

“Is that why you decided to ask about the beard now? You’ve been staring?” He’s teasing and absolutely flirtatious in tone.

Even the words themselves aren't like complimenting a woman; Francis isn't playing a game when he looks away and acts doubtful. He isn't hoping for more while trying to seem modest. He genuinely doesn't seem to know what to do with it. But neither does he seem to mind, leaning into Raju's hand and after a moment rallying enough to flirt back. Raju looks from his hand to smile into Francis' eyes, proud.

"Of course I was. Why wouldn't I be staring at the most beautiful sight for miles? This is starting to make you look like a hermit, though." He rubs the ends of Francis' beard between his fingers fondly, hoping the observation cuts the compliment enough to make it palatable.

Rama does look at him as though he’s the most beautiful thing for miles. It makes him feel incredibly fortunate to have found someone like him in this, of all places.

“So less of a beautiful sight,” he replies dryly, eyes crinkled in delight. “Mn, we must fix that, mustn’t we? I wouldn’t want you to tire of the view.”

"I won't," he says easily, just smiling at Francis for a moment. "But I won't mind improving it a bit. Here, I'll get a chair and pull it over. This spot is perfect."

He moves to get one, looking back at Francis as he moves it. "What do you like? What length and shape?"

He considers some of his past teasing with a faint, almost mischievous sort of smile.

“What if you simply shaved it completely?”

He’s starting to feel a little less like some wandering hermit, and more like he did when he was still…himself. Perhaps it was time to try it without the beard.

For a moment Raju stops pulling, looking surprised. His gaze darts over Francis' face, trying to imagine it. They've talked about it before, but it's harder to imagine now that suddenly it's nearly a reality. It isn't that Raju isn't curious, he wants to see it. But Francis has worn his beard more or less that way since they'd first met; the man's face seems made for something growing there. "Completely? You mean, all the way off? You're certain?"

“I can always grow it back,” he reasons, still smiling. He lives for a good shocked expression on a pretty person. “Why? Would you be repulsed by a smooth face?”

It would be different. And maybe if Rama hates it it’ll give him a little reprieve from temptation!

"Of course not," he grins, pulling the bench the rest of the way and then going for the dish of soap and bucket of pine needle water, his grooming kit, a sheet that hasn't yet been torn apart for rags. "It's only that you've always had it. As long as I've known you, anyway. And it covers so much of your face. What am I going to be seeing under there? There could be anything."

“A chin, I imagine,” he says, closing his notebook and setting his pencil aside. He can do the prep work for Rama, sitting himself back and removing his shirt to keep the hair from falling on his jumper. “A lower lip.”

He does give the question a little more consideration, reaching for the pine needle water to give his beard a cursory scrub to soften the hair and his skin. “A few scars here and there. Imperfections.”

Raju leans back, watching Francis take his shirt off and letting his eyes wander after. He wasn't going to ask for that, but if Francis is volunteering, Raju isn't going to stop him. As Francis goes on Raju's gaze flicks back to Francis' face; he sounds a little more serious at that than he did at chin and lip and Raju thinks of Francis' discomfort with compliments, studying him.

"Are you trying to warn me?" Raju smiles. "I'm going to like it. I like your face already, you know."

He laughs softly. “I’m told it’s endearing, which sounds remarkably similar to being placated.”

But it’s his face, it’s the only one he has, and he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he’s looking forward to Rama seeing the rest of it.

“But I know you’ll like it.” He looks up at him with a quick smile and leans back into the chair, ready for the cold to hit his face again.

"Good." Raju flashes him an eager, closemouthed smile that's eclipsed a second later by businesslike focus as he steps in close, taking Francis' chin between his fingers and turning his head this way and that. He doesn't have to move Francis to get a good look, he could move himself instead, but he wants to. He likes holding Francis' chin this way.

His hand rubs at the beard as he draws his hand away, fondly. Last time seeing it for a while, messy and unkempt as it is.

"I think I'm going to cut the excess off first," he says, reaching in his kit for his scissors, "and then wash what's left. Unless you'd like me to wash all of it before anything else. Who was it who was placating you about your face?"

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