goingtobeunwell

He does as instructed without thought, biting his lips to draw the skin taut for a smoother shave. This is new to him, being admired for his physical features - his lips, of all things. He can safely say he’s never given them a second thought.

Rama takes such great offense to his beard! And frankly, Crozier has been charmed by the one on Ram’s face, the peek of plump lips underneath the well-trimmed mustache and carefully-maintained beard. He can feel those lips just fine, though he has full faith that he’d look as gorgeous as he does now clean-shaven.

He hopes Ram won’t be disappointed by what he sees. He doesn’t think he will be, but the fear always lingers despite logic.

The focus on Raju's face looks a little excited, now. His gaze is sharp, and his lips are pressed tightly together, with a smile pulling up at their edges. One pass on each side, a very careful few movements with the corner of the blade here in the middle, and then—

Raju slides off the bench, hand squeezing Francis' as he lets go of it so he can stand in front of him, taking the whole of the picture in at once. His eyes dart over Francis' face, creased up at their edges as his smile breaks out from its restraints. He presses his lips together again, but the pleasure and excitement's already escaped. He rinses the blade in the water, puts it aside, dips his hands in the pine-needle water to smooth it over Francis' face, washing the stray spots and lines of lather away, all without looking away for more than an instant at a time.

"There you are," he murmurs, hands settling onto Francis' cheeks, smooth under his palms. His thumbs trace the curve of that now-visible upper lip, starting at the middle and working out. The shock of the difference is lesser than it would have been if Raju hadn't been the one shaving him; it's a transformation, but Raju's been eased into it. He would have been this pleased either way. "You know, some men look exactly the same whether they've got a beard or not. Not you."

Well! The words may be confusing - what does that mean, that he doesn’t look exactly the same - but the smile on his face and the touch to his naked upper lip is not. Ram seems fascinated, maybe even a little enchanted by what he sees.

“Am I really so different?” he wonders, same upper lip slightly curling into a slow smile. He leans his head to one side, into Rama’s palm, looking up at him in expectation of the answer.

The pressure on his palm as Francis turns his head into it sinks into Raju's chest, and he feels the precious weight of Francis' trust against his sternum as he keeps looking, taking him in. "Mm. The beard changed the shape of your face. And here, you have cheeks—" he smiles as his free hand slides slowly over the soft plane of one, "and a chin," as his thumb traces the round curve at its top, then the slight cleft at its bottom. Then his gaze gives in to the pull back to Francis' mouth, the hand holding Francis' head starting its thumb moving back and forth from the newly-smooth cheek to the corner of his lips.

"And it's easier to see you smile now," Raju says warmly, satisfied. He gets to touch everything now, and see everything. He hadn't known how much he'd wanted that until now, realising that he had it.

And he can’t help the brightness of that smile now, how light and expressive his face is as he gazes back into the sweet face of the man he loves.

“Is here anything that surprises you?” he asks, wanting Ram to keep caressing his face. If this is all they did together, a caress and a fond look, he would be content for the rest of the week. “Said cheek or lip?”

Raju nods, smiling. "Cheek—" his fingers curl over one, more pitted than he'd been expecting and there's no way to say so out loud, none that would carry the warmth and pleasure that he feels seeing the life in Francis' skin out from the inside of him to Francis' ears, "lip—" he brushes fingertips over it again, the bow of it smooth and shapely amid the square solidity of his face, "chin—" his hand moves down over the soft jawline that the beard had, a little, shown and the small, prominent curve of chin that it hadn't, pausing his finger over the cleft there.

Then Raju breathes out an amused noise at himself. "Everything surprises me," he says, delighted, and curls his fingers over Francis' chin, his fingernails happily too short to do anything but play at marking the skin there.

"Look at that, would you." He notes it as his hand turns, curled fingers realising how that prominent chin makes a fine place to grasp, if someone should decide he wants to take hold of Francis' jaw and turn Francis' head for him. Raju demonstrates for himself, pushing just a little, trying to firmly tip Francis' chin up toward him.

"Perfect," he murmurs, smiling at his hand and then, self-satisfied, into Francis' eyes. "Surprises everywhere."

Gears are turning in Ram’s head as he watches his own hand explore the face he’d carefully unmasked. It’s amusing in itself just seeing him make realizations about this and that, but his pleasure in Ram’s reaction is quickly replaced by a sharp lighting of desire as his chin is grabbed.

He tips his head back with a low growl in the back of his throat. “Look at that,” he says, clearly looking only at the man who has his full attention. “And what would you do with this?”

The growl and tone of Francis' voice sets the pressure Raju'd felt in his chest uncurling out into the rest of him. He looks down at the dear face bared by his hand, turned by his hand to look up at him, at Francis not looking anywhere else. He'd kissed Francis before. It only fits that he should kiss him after.

Raju bends slowly, the one hand keeping loose hold on Francis' chin and the other sliding around to the back of his head, fingers sliding into his hair. "What else would I do?" he whispers, close enough that he can feel his breath against Francis' lips, and he bends just a little further and kisses him, lips moving slowly.

Edited 2024-07-26 02:00 (UTC)

He tastes electricity in the air in the moments before Ram touches his lips to his, a kind of ozone on the tongue before a bolt of lightning strikes the earth - or in a more familiar sense - the sea nearby. His hand immediately reaches for Ram’s hair, grabbing his hair in a possessive grip as he surges back against the kiss. Ram is soft and exploratory, but Crozier is hungry for him. He kisses like he hasn’t kissed him in weeks - as though he hasn’t kissed him ever - though he lets Rama keep control of how their lips move, how they fit together.

Raju sucks in a surprised breath through his nose at the sudden pressure, the hand in his hair, and then an approving noise comes from some place deep back in his throat and he presses forward too, his own hand in Francis' hair tightening. It's an odd thing, the feeling; no one's really touched his hair for a very long time. No one before Francis. He'd washed it first, a long time ago, gently. And this now. It hadn't really occurred to Raju that someone else might grab his too, that his might be the hair in someone's hand while lips press hungrily against his, and it only seems right that he let Francis know the way he feels about it so he makes another noise, a hungry one, into Francis' mouth. There's something to it, kissing this way with Raju's grip still on Francis' chin, ready to loosen if Francis tries to draw away but firm, holding him here. Raju pauses the kiss long enough to bite at Francis' upper lip, laughing quietly as he lets his teeth slip off it and goes back to kissing Francis again.

Oh, this was not a good idea. It’s one thing for Rama to talk about all these heavenly-sounding things he’d like to do to him, it’s another thing to have him biting his lip and holding his chin. He groans into his mouth, dizzy as he slides his tongue against his lips briefly.

He does have sense enough still to pull back, deciding it’s reward enough to get to see the expression on Ram’s face just moments after he’s been kissed.

Raju looks just a little dazed and very satisfied, eyes half lidded, smile curling faintly at still-parted lips. Raju's hand stays curled in the air for a moment after Francis pulls away from it and it drifts down toward Francis' chest, then corrects itself and tugs the hair-covered sheet around Francis' shoulders a little higher. Raju straightens, his smile growing slowly. He doesn't want to let go of Francis yet; one hand settles against Francis' shoulder and the other drifts down onto his arm, feeling its shape.

"Does that answer all your questions? About what I think?"

Edited 2024-07-27 00:44 (UTC)

It is well worth it, Rama’s dreamy smile and long eyelashes melting him right into the chair. His own hand caresses down Ram’s neck and then over his chest as it slowly drops away from him.

“It does,” he murmurs, “very thorough.”

He idly touches his own bare face, laughing quietly to himself in amusement. He feels like a new man - a clean-shaven Francis Crozier, what a novel thing.

There's a hot trail over his skin where Francis' hand had moved over and away from him. He watches that hand touching his newly smooth cheek and makes a soft, amused noise, both at his own reactions and at Francis, clearly not quite used to his own face either. His smile deepens, fond, around his eyes.

"I have my aftershave, too," he notes. He'd half-intended to mention that earlier but, well. Other things had come up. "I hadn't used it for some time before I got here, either, so there's enough left to last you a while if you like the smell." He leans to pull it out from his grooming kit. Sandalwood, cedar, a hint of some sharp spice — he hasn't smelled it in a while and realises, unscrewing its top and tipping it toward Francis, that he wouldn't mind it, Francis smelling like what a part of Raju's mind still says smells like him.

Crozier's mind immediately zeros in on the same thought - he'd smell like Rama if he wore his aftershave. He'd be on his skin, wrapped up in his scent like a coat that clings to him for days. He leans forward and inhales the warm, woody scent; it says Rama through and through, heat and earth, familiar and exotic.

"I like it very much," he murmurs, excited at the idea of sharing something like this with him. It's Ram's from home, something personal and special to him, and he wants Crozier to wear it. It's a piece of civilization, a little bit of luxury, smelling like something other than just being clean.

Raju tips the bottle over his own palm, looking pleased, sets the bottle down, and rubs his hands over one another in two long swipes. There's something about the way Francis had agreed, the quiet tone over the excited words. All this means as much to Francis as it does to Raju. Well, of course it does — but hearing it. Hearing it is wonderful. It's because he sounds happy.

Raju leans forward to smooth his hands over Francis' cheeks, fingertips first, into fingers, into his palms. His fingertips trace the hills and valleys around Francis' mouth and he smooths his hands over the whole landscape once more, taking the time to rub it in. Then he moves his hands across Francis' jaw, under his chin, over his neck, from the middle outward. It feels odd to have his hands spread over Francis' neck like this; the movements of his hands are very gentle.

"There," he murmurs, gaze moving up to Francis' face. "How do you feel?"

This whole time he’s been subject to Ram’s meticulous care and rapt attention. It’s not unlike a steward caring for his captain; he knows full-well what this sort of attention is like, having received it on just about every expedition, but none of the touches or thoughtful details mean the same. This isn’t just another duty by a hired servant, this is a choice, all of these little moments are choices Ram has made, gifts he’s willing to give to him. It’s like every inch is being adored, and Crozier feels so wrung-out and overwhelmed by the tenderness that he can barely keep the silly grin off his face.

The aftershave tingles on his skin, the scent enveloping him and giving him the sense of being transported elsewhere. Somewhere hot and sunny, where people like him burn and sweat instead of brown and glow like the locals.

He sits up a little straighter in his chair. “I feel like a man reborn,” he tells him without exaggeration. “Less of a mess of a person brought out of the wilderness against his own will. Thank you.”

A man reborn means the shaving is probably going to be at least semi-regular, from now on. That isn't the only thing it means. One of Raju's hands falls to his side and rubs its fingers against themselves, feeling the traces of the alcohol there, while the other reaches up and runs its thumb over the curve of Francis' chin. "Against your will? I don't know about that. You asked me to shave you, didn't you? Instead of trim?"

Raju smiles down at Francis' jaw, his mouth, watching the movement of his thumb and the landscape it's moving over. Then he looks into his eyes. "And you asked me to stay in the first place. I didn't sling you over my back and walk you out on my own."

Ram seems fascinated by his chin; he didn’t realize he’d been hiding it from him all this time.

“I knew when to hold onto a good thing,” he laughs. Of course he’s not some put-upon hermit, as much as he’d tried to mold himself into one in the beginning of things. “Not the beard.”

"It wasn't so—" Raju stops himself before he can lie, ducking his head over a grin and reaching to wipe his hands on a rag. "It wouldn't have been so bad with a trim."

He reaches out for the sheet around Francis' shoulders, gathering up the ends so all the hair doesn't spill out when he lifts it off him. It's odd smelling that familiar scent here, of all places, stronger when he bends forward with his arms briefly around Francis' shoulders; sandalwood and alcohol and the chill in the air, and snow somewhere outside the windows. He turns his head toward Francis' neck and smiles a little. He likes it, he thinks. Maybe he likes the way those two disparate parts of his life fit against one another better because it's Francis who's wearing the scent. Raju straightens, bringing all the corners of the sheet together and looking over. He finds his gaze drawn to Francis' chest and stomach, and it lingers there for a moment before moving up to to smile, teasing, at that oddly bare face. "You'll realise what you've been neglecting the next time we eat. How long has it been since you've had a meal without hair in your mouth?"

“I think you underestimate my ability to keep myself tidy,” he grumps teasingly. He knows he was a mess, especially by Rama’s very exacting standards.

That drawn out glance at his bare chest doesn’t escape him, but it’s not unexpected. Not with the way they’d been kissing just moments prior. He ducks his head a little and reaches for his jumper, pulling it back over his chest with a little smirk. Now the aftershave will linger on his clothes, almost as though Ram himself had been wrapped up in his things.

He moves smoothly through the act of getting dressed and then rising from the chair again. He’s nearly there, almost fully recovered from his stint as a human-sized paperweight, with a new look and the beginnings of something he hadn’t imagined for himself. He glances towards Rama warmly, still so much want in his stare, and shakes his head with a playful little ‘tsk’.

“If I wanted to shave myself next time would you take objection to that? Because I’m fully capable, I’ll have you know.”

"Not at all," he says, moving to shake the sheet out over the bin. "My things are yours. Just take care of it all or I'll have to hide it from you."

He grins at Francis, walking over to put the cap back onto the aftershave, put the shaving soap away, shake the brush through the water and peer at it to make sure he's gotten all remnants of the lather off. "The way I used to do back at the barracks. I'll be happy to do it for you again, though. Whenever you want me."

Raju's peering at the bristles on the brush again but his grin sharpens, knowing Francis is, like him, worked up enough to hear want and think all kinds of things. "Did you like it, shaving yourself? More than having someone else doing it for you?"

He huffs a laugh through his nose. So much for subtlety.

“I don’t abuse what doesn’t belong to me, you can trust in that.” Ram having to hide it whilst living in the barracks tells him all that he needs about the lengths he’s had to go through to preserve his possessions. He thinks about his days still sleeping with the crew in the converted mess - he would sleep with his things secreted underneath his pillow.

“I do,” he tells him, grabbing the ratty broom they’d scrounged from another abandoned cabin. He sweeps with the handle carefully anchored against his wrist, a slow but well-practiced process. “I enjoy doing things for myself. Always have. But things are just expected of you when you grow in the ranks.”

"Hm." Raju sets the brush down to dry, leaning shoulder and hip against the wall, arms crossed, and taking a moment just to watch him. Watch his body. Watch how hard he's worked to manoeuvrer so easily with the one hand. Watch the bare face, which is probably going to be strange — wonderful, but strange — for a while yet. "I never thought about that before. But then the officers back home always seemed to enjoy it, sending others scurrying around to do their work for them. It would have been too strange, wouldn't it? If you'd asked to shave yourself, or... dress yourself, or whatever else."

When Francis had talked about the way he used to be, he'd said he'd been... jealous, hadn't it been? Resentful? That means ambition too, so: "Especially if you wanted a higher rank some day," he guesses. "It wouldn't do to remind anyone where you came from."

“I must admit there is a certain amount of pleasure to be had when someone follows your command, especially when you’re used to being the one following said orders. But having someone shave and dress you…that’s a different level of command, isn’t it? Less officer and more member of the leisure class.”

But it would have been odd to turn away the services of a steward. It was a must for officers. “I suppose one can get used to anything, and having as good a steward as Jopson, who was more a spy who also served tea than anything else.”

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