Francis' thumb moving over his lip has Raju's mouth parting further, he breathes out hard against Francis' hand--
Francis hiccups again, cutting off what he'd been about to say and sending Francis' body moving with an unrehearsed little jolt underneath Raju. The lip under Francis' thumb curves with Raju's smile, wicked, pleased, and definitely laughing at Francis a little.
"Haven't what?" he asks, before taking Francis' thumb into his mouth and sucking there, too, keeping pleased, smiling eye contact with him. Raju's fingertips give Francis' nipple one last fond roll between them before his hand spreads, smoothing itself across Francis' chest and down his ribs with just a hint of friction from his short nails, moving as low on Francis' stomach as those still-fastened trousers will let him reach before curling, ready to pinch suddenly enough to interrupt any answer Francis tries to go on with. If there's one thing Raju's good at it's taking advantage of the opportunities that come his way, and interrupting him once with the surprise of a pinch before his body, if that keeps going, interrupts him itself a second time, is too good an opportunity to pass up. Of course he wants to see if he can make Francis keen like that again, but there's no harm in teasing him a little more first.
As though he could possibly answer with Ram’s lips wrapped around his thumb. His thought was only half-complete to begin with, and then Ram pursed his lips and sucked, and whatever was in his own head flew right out the window. The touch to his chest, the careful raking of well-kept fingernails, fights with the wet heat of Rama’s mouth, which in turn struggles for attention against his beautiful brown eyes. Crozier struggles to formulate a reply, thumb pulling from his lips to trace slowly over his upper lip, leg curling to keep himself from bucking up against him.
“I haven’t ever felt so-”
The hiccups again and lets out a low, annoyed groan. He hasn’t ever felt so adored, so much attention being lavished on him, so like some exquisite instrument being learned, and he tries again to answer.
Biting his lip over his smile, Raju times his pinch to interrupt Francis' next try and then moves lower, kneeling over Francis' waistline and going low to put his teeth to work helping his hand undo the button there. It risks promising something he doesn't know how to do, putting his mouth so low on Francis now, but Francis had seemed to like it when he'd used his teeth on his shirt button before, and making him happy that way again is worth anything. There are things his mouth can do down here, anyway, that don't need him to be practised at sucking Francis' cock. He can figure something out.
"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Raju presses his cheek to Francis' stomach, chin moving his unbuttoned trousers open wider as Raju looks up at him. "Your hiccups? Because I want to make it worse. I want to make all of it worse. You sounded gorgeous when you got them, the noise you were making just before, like I was taking you apart. I'm going to hear that noise again."
Ram succeeds in interrupting him with the pinch, but the urge to yelp is silenced by the sight of his teeth on his trousers. His cock strains against his drawers, now sadly neglected as Rama leans over him to touch like he is at his waist and even further down.
“N-no,” he breathes, shaking his head softly. Those wide eyes staring up at him, feigning innocence as he says such filthy things. “Nothing-” He hiccups again. “Hurts.”
Aches, yes. Is a little painful and uncomfortable in some ways, but nothing outright hurts, and in fact the promise of Ram making it worse sends a shiver down his spine. He wants more of those cries he didn’t even realize he’d been making, wants to pull more of those sounds out of him - and Crozier’s sure he’ll succeed, stubborn man that he is. He caresses the cheek that isn’t pressed against his stomach, chest jumping again as he tries to bite back the next hiccup.
Raju grins, turns his head to kiss Francis' stomach and then sucks at his skin, tasting him while his hand moves up again, rubbing a fond circle over Francis' chest. "Good," he murmurs warmly as he unzips Francis' fly, hand pulling it down very slowly while his mouth holds the other side still.
"You like it," Raju goes on as his hand slides underneath Francis' trousers, under any clothing there to the skin beneath, "when I put my mouth on you?" He takes Francis' hip in a tight grip for a moment, then relaxes his hold again. Kneeling low like this lets Raju put both his hands to work, knees enough to hold himself up; one slides around Francis' back, pushing toward himself to try and get Francis to arch just enough that Raju can set his palm high on Francis' arse, pushing his hips up while his other hand pulls any clothes around his hips down over the swell of skin under Raju's palm, then down over his thighs. It isn't really a question; Raju can tell very well that Francis does.
"Well, I like it when you make noise for me. When you can't help it." He pulls a little more slowly as the cloth moves over Francis' cock, watching the newly-revealed skin very closely. He doesn't say, though, that he doesn't want Francis biting anything back; trying to make him impossible for him to keep his mouth closed over anything will be more fun than simply asking. "What haven't you ever felt? What were you trying to tell me before? Try it again."
He hasn’t experienced the shape of this unknown, the excitement of not being in full control. What he wants to tell him is precisely that - he hasn’t had anyone toy with him in this way, lovingly caress all his various imperfections and still find them desirable, want more from him and enjoy the way he sounds as he whines and cries and moans.
It will absolutely not come out of his mouth that way. It’s all he can do to follow along with Ram’s gentle guidance, and then as even more of him is bared he finds it harder to focus on anything but the man hovering over him. He inhales sharply, hand sliding down one of Ram’s arms, tracing muscles that flex almost imperceptibly under his palm. He hiccups low again and tries to take another breath, not wanting to be interrupted by his own damned lungs. “I haven’t had someone pay me this much attention,” he manages.
Does it do his thoughts any justice? Absolutely not, but it’s all he can do for now as he tries to even out his own breathing. If he relaxes the hiccups will go away, he just needs to…
He pauses. Waits a beat. Maybe they’ve gone. Maybe -
He hiccups again and groans in frustration with himself.
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."
With his trousers around his ankles he’s even more restricted than he was before - there’s no shifting of his legs or hooking his ankle around Rama now. He grunts softly as Ram brushes by his cock but doesn’t touch it. It’s maddening in how deliberate his exploration is, how much he skirts around the one very obvious part of Crozier’s body that’s begging to be touched.
But he won’t plead with him. He’s not at that point - there’s still some fight left in him yet.
“I want your mouth on me again,” he tells him, voice sounding a little more broken than he would have cared to sound. “I don’t care where.”
See? No pleading. No demands for immediate satisfaction. He can hold out a little while longer.
"Oh? You don't?" Raju smiles brightly at him, hands smoothing their way over the soft, vulnerable skin high on Francis' thighs, mouth moving closer to his cock, moving just inches away from the length of it. Then it moves down further, landing at the inner crease between thigh and hip, and bites at it gently, licking and sucking in the moments between his words, as close to Francis' balls as he can get without touching them. "Put your hand on yourself. On your nipples, but lick your fingers first. I want you to pretend it's my mouth. I miss the taste of you already."
He didn’t care. Doesn’t. Wants him in whatever way Ram will give, even when it’s just his undivided attention. Wants to feel loved and adored and worshipped by him, even if it’s just a teasing nip to his thighs. He exhales shakily, chest jumping with a quieter hiccup, and brings his fingers to his own mouth.
He pauses a moment, looking back down between his own thighs at Rama. He has a question on his tongue, one that undoubtedly would be met with outright skepticism, open mocking, or some kind of fed-up show of annoyance, so he holds it in and parts his lips to suck on the tips of his own fingers.
Crozier’s eyes close as he pulls his fingers out with a soft pop. He makes another quiet noise, something like a sigh as he imagines Ram crawling back up his body, giving him that wickedly handsome smile as he laps at his nipple. He reaches down to touch himself, hesitantly at first, then with more effort as he attempts to relive every lick and suck from Ram’s mouth on himself.
Between kissing a trail down Francis' thigh, Raju watches him. "Beautiful," he says, palms sliding back up, feeling the loose muscle of Francis' thighs under his hands, feeling the fat of his arse as well as he can without pushing Francis' hips up again, cupping the skin there as he sucks at a spot chosen at random low on Francis' stomach. "I never get to see you like this. All of you at once. Working yourself up that way. Would you do this again, tomorrow? Sitting by the fire all wrapped up, with your hand under your shirt thinking about my mouth?"
“Uhn.” His hips bucks slightly as Ram keeps talking, imagining himself in front of the fire touching himself as he waited for him to return from some errand. He gasps quietly as he pinches himself, thinking of his teeth, a low groan sharply interrupted by a loud, invasive hiccup.
He finishes the groan, this time in frustration with himself, and his hand drops to his side.
The place Raju's got his mouth had jumped underneath it, sudden and involuntary, when Francis hiccuped; Raju stops sucking at the skin there to turn his face against it, laughing, grip looser now on Francis' arse. Raju's laugh is low and fond even while Raju is certainly laughing at Francis, and he presses a gentle kiss to the spot under his mouth before looking up.
"You sound frustrated again," he points out, grinning. "Problem?"
“Are you laughing at me?” He grumbles a few more words of frustration quietly to himself, laying his arm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Ram smirking at him. He tries to inhale slowly again to make the hiccups go away, but it only seems to make the next one worse. “God dammit.”
Raju's grin softens. There's a certain boundary past which annoying Francis stops being fun either of them, and Francis sounds as if he's nearing it; in the interests of easing Francis past his own frustrations Raju crawls up Francis' body again, settling on one side with his cheek against his fist. For a second Raju's quiet, studying the very close view he's got now of the arm Francis has thrown over himself and trying to spot the expression hiding beneath it.
"I'm laughing because I like it," he says, the amusement still there in his voice, but gentler. His own free hand starts rubbing long circles over the chest and stomach that are bothering Francis so much, and he kisses the wrist Francis has got dangling over his face. "Look at me, won't you? You've got too lovely a face to cover it up this way."
He doesn’t know what part pushes him over the edge - the insistence that Ram likes the disruptive hiccups, his strange noises, his ‘lovely’ face which is undoubtedly not that at all - but the softness followed by yet another hiccup makes him outright wince.
“Please don’t.”
For all those moments he’d been dragged out of his head, he feels like it’s taken nothing for him to be knocked back down.
Raju bites at the inside of his lip, eyebrows pinching, studying him. The boundary he'd thought was approaching, Francis has already passed; Raju isn't sure what he's being asked to stop, exactly. Everything he's just said feels true. The don't might mean the endearments, the affection-- Francis has never asked him to stop that before.
Keep moving forward, Raju decides, but cautiously. He slips his forearm under him -- leaning on his fist feels too casual, now, as if he isn't taking Francis seriously -- and takes Francis' wrist in a loose grip, trying to ease it upward slowly, slowly, fractions of an inch at a time, giving Francis a chance to refuse him but tilting his head, trying to catch a look at the man underneath. "Look at me, at least," Raju murmurs, voice and expression intent, focused on any glimpse of him. "Or, at least let me look at you. I want to see you. Will you let me?"
For all of his vexation with himself, he can’t turn away from the softness in Ram’s voice, the obvious concern. He lets him tug his arm down but doesn’t turn to look at him, eyes heavily lidded as he stares up into the ceiling and gives another pathetic hiccup.
“Are you certain,” he hisses under his breath, “that I’m not spoiling the moment? Because it feels like I am.”
"You're not happy." It's as complete an answer as Raju has for what feels too obvious for explaining. It isn't about spoiling anything. It's about the reason Raju was so eager to get Francis in bed in the first place which, as hungry as he's been to gain back everything he'd lost in forgetting Francis, isn't really about lust. Not at the heart of it. "I can put my mouth on you wherever you want, later."
Please don't is still floating uncertainly in Raju's mind somewhere, but if that had been about the affection for him, Raju isn't sure how to do anything else. So he does kiss at Francis' wrist again where Francis has set it but the kiss is lighter than before, tentative.
"You said they weren't hurting you," he points out, voice quiet and curious. He watches Francis' face, still just as intently now that he can see it, but caution says not to put his hand there yet. But Raju's hungry to touch him -- maybe some of it's the lust, but Raju feels like he's always hungry to touch him -- so he settles for a hand settled lightly half-on Francis' ribs and half over his stomach. "So this isn't about that. What is it about?"
He blinks hard, throat feeling thick as he tries gather the pieces of himself that are rapidly unraveling. This is not how this night was supposed to turn out, with all its celebrating and followed by the smoldering between them.
“It’s so childish,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m spoiling this with my-my damn noises.”
"You said that before," Raju points out, voice neither patient nor impatient, only stating a fact. "That you're spoiling the moment. But it's like the dancing, Francis; I don't make love to you to a script. There's only me, and only you. That's what I want."
He can't quite help it, the affection, looking at Francis this way: his hand moves to Francis' side and curls, brushing its fingertips very lightly from ribs toward hip and back again. "And I told you, I like your noises. You really should have told me when I said that, that you didn't." Is it a mistake, to put anything lighthearted in when Francis is looking and sounding like he does? Well, it's a useful way to approach the question he needs to ask, with luck a ridiculous enough one with a seemingly obvious enough answer to get Francis actually talking through it. "You don't like making noises for me?"
“It’s unseemly,” he grumbles, though the answer is no, he does like making noises for him. He likes it very much, and it’s doing them both a disservice to deny it.
But he doesn’t like the damn hiccups! The hiccups are making whatever good feelings they’re cultivating together completely halt.
He slowly lets the tension in his shoulders unwind and his head drop to one side - towards Ram, and his soft touches and even softer expression on his face. When he finally brings himself to look in his eyes he can see the sincerity in them, the slight tinge of worry at his over-the-top reaction to his own body. He feels himself start to relax again, and picks up Ram’s hand to bring to his face.
“It’s not any of that, Ram. I’m not used to this amount of attention and I-”
The hiccup that interrupts this very sentimental moment is the loudest, most disruptive one of all. He stares at Ram after it finishes echoing around the room, then begins to laugh.
Reflexively Raju's expression goes blank at the sound, which lasts just long enough for Raju to actively decide to keep his face still that way; Francis has only just started to thaw, only just touching and looking at him again and explaining instead of blaming himself for ruining something that doesn't exist, and the last thing they need--
And then Francis laughs and amusement curls over Raju's face a second after, with relief mixed into it. As tense as Francis is, or maybe was, laughter is a wonderful sign. "Is it the hiccups bothering you, then?" Raju asks, moving the hand under Francis' to rub his thumb over Francis' lips, tracing the shape of the smile as he'd laughed. "Or the attention? I was enjoying both, but if you aren't..."
He trails off and then smiles a little, tentative and teasing. "Well, I don't know. I suppose I could close my eyes and pretend I'm not paying any attention to you."
He shakes his head softly, letting Ram feel it under the tips of his fingers. “The attention is new, a little strange,” he admits, reflexively kissing the hand tracing his lips. “But I’m enjoying it.”
Maybe it’s because it’s Rama, or maybe because it’s novel. But he doesn’t feel silly being put under the microscope like this.
Raju's eyebrows rise. "A child?" he asks, incredulous and fond, encouraged by the kiss to his fingers as they drift over Francis' thicker lower lip, his thinner, shapely upper one. Encouraged enough to bend one of his legs, letting his thigh and knee rub against Francis' thigh, settling on top of it with only inches separating the bent knee from that sensitive skin Raju'd been so carefully just avoiding with his mouth only a minute or so ago. It isn't the time to try and work Francis up again, not seriously, but it is the time to suggest it. And rewarding to do on its own, too, sending heat stirring in Raju just to touch him this way.
"Do you remember what I was doing to you when you got them?" He smiles into Francis' eyes, pleased with the memory and entirely focused on him. "Why don't you tell me how you felt, feeling me so keenly you couldn't breathe properly?" Raju moves his thumb slowly over Francis' lips again and pauses halfway, pulling Francis' lip down and moving in for an enthusiastic -- though brief -- kiss, hand spread over Francis' cheek, sucking on that same lip as he draws back again, looking satisfied with himself. "And tell me then how childish you're feeling."
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Francis hiccups again, cutting off what he'd been about to say and sending Francis' body moving with an unrehearsed little jolt underneath Raju. The lip under Francis' thumb curves with Raju's smile, wicked, pleased, and definitely laughing at Francis a little.
"Haven't what?" he asks, before taking Francis' thumb into his mouth and sucking there, too, keeping pleased, smiling eye contact with him. Raju's fingertips give Francis' nipple one last fond roll between them before his hand spreads, smoothing itself across Francis' chest and down his ribs with just a hint of friction from his short nails, moving as low on Francis' stomach as those still-fastened trousers will let him reach before curling, ready to pinch suddenly enough to interrupt any answer Francis tries to go on with. If there's one thing Raju's good at it's taking advantage of the opportunities that come his way, and interrupting him once with the surprise of a pinch before his body, if that keeps going, interrupts him itself a second time, is too good an opportunity to pass up. Of course he wants to see if he can make Francis keen like that again, but there's no harm in teasing him a little more first.
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As though he could possibly answer with Ram’s lips wrapped around his thumb. His thought was only half-complete to begin with, and then Ram pursed his lips and sucked, and whatever was in his own head flew right out the window. The touch to his chest, the careful raking of well-kept fingernails, fights with the wet heat of Rama’s mouth, which in turn struggles for attention against his beautiful brown eyes. Crozier struggles to formulate a reply, thumb pulling from his lips to trace slowly over his upper lip, leg curling to keep himself from bucking up against him.
“I haven’t ever felt so-”
The hiccups again and lets out a low, annoyed groan. He hasn’t ever felt so adored, so much attention being lavished on him, so like some exquisite instrument being learned, and he tries again to answer.
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"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Raju presses his cheek to Francis' stomach, chin moving his unbuttoned trousers open wider as Raju looks up at him. "Your hiccups? Because I want to make it worse. I want to make all of it worse. You sounded gorgeous when you got them, the noise you were making just before, like I was taking you apart. I'm going to hear that noise again."
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Ram succeeds in interrupting him with the pinch, but the urge to yelp is silenced by the sight of his teeth on his trousers. His cock strains against his drawers, now sadly neglected as Rama leans over him to touch like he is at his waist and even further down.
“N-no,” he breathes, shaking his head softly. Those wide eyes staring up at him, feigning innocence as he says such filthy things. “Nothing-” He hiccups again. “Hurts.”
Aches, yes. Is a little painful and uncomfortable in some ways, but nothing outright hurts, and in fact the promise of Ram making it worse sends a shiver down his spine. He wants more of those cries he didn’t even realize he’d been making, wants to pull more of those sounds out of him - and Crozier’s sure he’ll succeed, stubborn man that he is. He caresses the cheek that isn’t pressed against his stomach, chest jumping again as he tries to bite back the next hiccup.
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"You like it," Raju goes on as his hand slides underneath Francis' trousers, under any clothing there to the skin beneath, "when I put my mouth on you?" He takes Francis' hip in a tight grip for a moment, then relaxes his hold again. Kneeling low like this lets Raju put both his hands to work, knees enough to hold himself up; one slides around Francis' back, pushing toward himself to try and get Francis to arch just enough that Raju can set his palm high on Francis' arse, pushing his hips up while his other hand pulls any clothes around his hips down over the swell of skin under Raju's palm, then down over his thighs. It isn't really a question; Raju can tell very well that Francis does.
"Well, I like it when you make noise for me. When you can't help it." He pulls a little more slowly as the cloth moves over Francis' cock, watching the newly-revealed skin very closely. He doesn't say, though, that he doesn't want Francis biting anything back; trying to make him impossible for him to keep his mouth closed over anything will be more fun than simply asking. "What haven't you ever felt? What were you trying to tell me before? Try it again."
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He hasn’t experienced the shape of this unknown, the excitement of not being in full control. What he wants to tell him is precisely that - he hasn’t had anyone toy with him in this way, lovingly caress all his various imperfections and still find them desirable, want more from him and enjoy the way he sounds as he whines and cries and moans.
It will absolutely not come out of his mouth that way. It’s all he can do to follow along with Ram’s gentle guidance, and then as even more of him is bared he finds it harder to focus on anything but the man hovering over him. He inhales sharply, hand sliding down one of Ram’s arms, tracing muscles that flex almost imperceptibly under his palm. He hiccups low again and tries to take another breath, not wanting to be interrupted by his own damned lungs. “I haven’t had someone pay me this much attention,” he manages.
Does it do his thoughts any justice? Absolutely not, but it’s all he can do for now as he tries to even out his own breathing. If he relaxes the hiccups will go away, he just needs to…
He pauses. Waits a beat. Maybe they’ve gone. Maybe -
He hiccups again and groans in frustration with himself.
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"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."
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With his trousers around his ankles he’s even more restricted than he was before - there’s no shifting of his legs or hooking his ankle around Rama now. He grunts softly as Ram brushes by his cock but doesn’t touch it. It’s maddening in how deliberate his exploration is, how much he skirts around the one very obvious part of Crozier’s body that’s begging to be touched.
But he won’t plead with him. He’s not at that point - there’s still some fight left in him yet.
“I want your mouth on me again,” he tells him, voice sounding a little more broken than he would have cared to sound. “I don’t care where.”
See? No pleading. No demands for immediate satisfaction. He can hold out a little while longer.
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He didn’t care. Doesn’t. Wants him in whatever way Ram will give, even when it’s just his undivided attention. Wants to feel loved and adored and worshipped by him, even if it’s just a teasing nip to his thighs. He exhales shakily, chest jumping with a quieter hiccup, and brings his fingers to his own mouth.
He pauses a moment, looking back down between his own thighs at Rama. He has a question on his tongue, one that undoubtedly would be met with outright skepticism, open mocking, or some kind of fed-up show of annoyance, so he holds it in and parts his lips to suck on the tips of his own fingers.
Crozier’s eyes close as he pulls his fingers out with a soft pop. He makes another quiet noise, something like a sigh as he imagines Ram crawling back up his body, giving him that wickedly handsome smile as he laps at his nipple. He reaches down to touch himself, hesitantly at first, then with more effort as he attempts to relive every lick and suck from Ram’s mouth on himself.
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“Uhn.” His hips bucks slightly as Ram keeps talking, imagining himself in front of the fire touching himself as he waited for him to return from some errand. He gasps quietly as he pinches himself, thinking of his teeth, a low groan sharply interrupted by a loud, invasive hiccup.
He finishes the groan, this time in frustration with himself, and his hand drops to his side.
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"You sound frustrated again," he points out, grinning. "Problem?"
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“Are you laughing at me?” He grumbles a few more words of frustration quietly to himself, laying his arm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Ram smirking at him. He tries to inhale slowly again to make the hiccups go away, but it only seems to make the next one worse. “God dammit.”
He’s ruining this!
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"I'm laughing because I like it," he says, the amusement still there in his voice, but gentler. His own free hand starts rubbing long circles over the chest and stomach that are bothering Francis so much, and he kisses the wrist Francis has got dangling over his face. "Look at me, won't you? You've got too lovely a face to cover it up this way."
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He doesn’t know what part pushes him over the edge - the insistence that Ram likes the disruptive hiccups, his strange noises, his ‘lovely’ face which is undoubtedly not that at all - but the softness followed by yet another hiccup makes him outright wince.
“Please don’t.”
For all those moments he’d been dragged out of his head, he feels like it’s taken nothing for him to be knocked back down.
“Just…give me a moment.”
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Keep moving forward, Raju decides, but cautiously. He slips his forearm under him -- leaning on his fist feels too casual, now, as if he isn't taking Francis seriously -- and takes Francis' wrist in a loose grip, trying to ease it upward slowly, slowly, fractions of an inch at a time, giving Francis a chance to refuse him but tilting his head, trying to catch a look at the man underneath. "Look at me, at least," Raju murmurs, voice and expression intent, focused on any glimpse of him. "Or, at least let me look at you. I want to see you. Will you let me?"
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For all of his vexation with himself, he can’t turn away from the softness in Ram’s voice, the obvious concern. He lets him tug his arm down but doesn’t turn to look at him, eyes heavily lidded as he stares up into the ceiling and gives another pathetic hiccup.
“Are you certain,” he hisses under his breath, “that I’m not spoiling the moment? Because it feels like I am.”
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Please don't is still floating uncertainly in Raju's mind somewhere, but if that had been about the affection for him, Raju isn't sure how to do anything else. So he does kiss at Francis' wrist again where Francis has set it but the kiss is lighter than before, tentative.
"You said they weren't hurting you," he points out, voice quiet and curious. He watches Francis' face, still just as intently now that he can see it, but caution says not to put his hand there yet. But Raju's hungry to touch him -- maybe some of it's the lust, but Raju feels like he's always hungry to touch him -- so he settles for a hand settled lightly half-on Francis' ribs and half over his stomach. "So this isn't about that. What is it about?"
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He blinks hard, throat feeling thick as he tries gather the pieces of himself that are rapidly unraveling. This is not how this night was supposed to turn out, with all its celebrating and followed by the smoldering between them.
“It’s so childish,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m spoiling this with my-my damn noises.”
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He can't quite help it, the affection, looking at Francis this way: his hand moves to Francis' side and curls, brushing its fingertips very lightly from ribs toward hip and back again. "And I told you, I like your noises. You really should have told me when I said that, that you didn't." Is it a mistake, to put anything lighthearted in when Francis is looking and sounding like he does? Well, it's a useful way to approach the question he needs to ask, with luck a ridiculous enough one with a seemingly obvious enough answer to get Francis actually talking through it. "You don't like making noises for me?"
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“It’s unseemly,” he grumbles, though the answer is no, he does like making noises for him. He likes it very much, and it’s doing them both a disservice to deny it.
But he doesn’t like the damn hiccups! The hiccups are making whatever good feelings they’re cultivating together completely halt.
He slowly lets the tension in his shoulders unwind and his head drop to one side - towards Ram, and his soft touches and even softer expression on his face. When he finally brings himself to look in his eyes he can see the sincerity in them, the slight tinge of worry at his over-the-top reaction to his own body. He feels himself start to relax again, and picks up Ram’s hand to bring to his face.
“It’s not any of that, Ram. I’m not used to this amount of attention and I-”
The hiccup that interrupts this very sentimental moment is the loudest, most disruptive one of all. He stares at Ram after it finishes echoing around the room, then begins to laugh.
“These goddamn hiccups!”
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And then Francis laughs and amusement curls over Raju's face a second after, with relief mixed into it. As tense as Francis is, or maybe was, laughter is a wonderful sign. "Is it the hiccups bothering you, then?" Raju asks, moving the hand under Francis' to rub his thumb over Francis' lips, tracing the shape of the smile as he'd laughed. "Or the attention? I was enjoying both, but if you aren't..."
He trails off and then smiles a little, tentative and teasing. "Well, I don't know. I suppose I could close my eyes and pretend I'm not paying any attention to you."
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He shakes his head softly, letting Ram feel it under the tips of his fingers. “The attention is new, a little strange,” he admits, reflexively kissing the hand tracing his lips. “But I’m enjoying it.”
Maybe it’s because it’s Rama, or maybe because it’s novel. But he doesn’t feel silly being put under the microscope like this.
“I do feel like a child with these hiccups.”
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"Do you remember what I was doing to you when you got them?" He smiles into Francis' eyes, pleased with the memory and entirely focused on him. "Why don't you tell me how you felt, feeling me so keenly you couldn't breathe properly?" Raju moves his thumb slowly over Francis' lips again and pauses halfway, pulling Francis' lip down and moving in for an enthusiastic -- though brief -- kiss, hand spread over Francis' cheek, sucking on that same lip as he draws back again, looking satisfied with himself. "And tell me then how childish you're feeling."
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