Soap winds up being the method chosen, after almost every other option is rejected for being potentially unpleasant - grease or cooking oil, or downright disgusting - lard or some other congealed substance. They’re not animals, and this is Rama and Rama’s body, and the last thing he wants to do is disrespect or somehow desecrate that beautiful man who’s given him so damn much. The soap smells pleasant and is clean - it’ll serve their purpose just fine.
He returns expecting either Ram to have responded to the light command with cheek or with strict sincerity, but he hadn’t anticipated him to take a little imitative. He pauses in the doorway and sucks in his breath, eyes raking over his disciplined hand and sprawled legs on their shared bed. Dear god. As though he hadn’t wanted him badly before, he feels a surge of possession and craving as he walks to him, all those other far away thoughts of other obsessive habits completely forgotten.
Crozier kneels between spread legs, mirroring their position from earlier against the tree, and watches him with utter fascination on his face. His hand touches his knee and then idly slips further up his thigh, fingers brushing against curved muscle leading to coarse, curled hair and sensitive skin. He just touches for now, exploring all the spaces of Rama that he’s only imagined before. He listens for his breath and soft noises, pauses for movements in his hands and on his face when his fingers brush behind his balls and down towards his shapely arse.
Raju watches Francis stop in the doorway, watches him come over and kneel, and Raju's hand keeps idly moving. For all his body stays still, though, he can't stop his smile growing wide over his face. Seeing Francis affected this way, seeing him this way at all— it's good. Francis' hand explores again, making Raju's leg twitch, his thighs tensing, locking his throat thoughtlessly over any urge yet to make a noise. Francis' fingers keep exploring and slip past his balls, behind them and over the sensitive skin there and Raju takes a sudden breath in through his nose. His eyes are fixed, eager and fascinated, on Francis', and he feels the ring of muscle around twitch, tighten and relax, knowing where those searching fingers are going.
For all that he lacks in experience, for all of the thrill in touching him like this for the first time, Rama’s body feels familiar to him, even now. He smiles at that sharp inhale, fingers massaging carefully and he bends forward to kiss Rama’s solid stomach. He moves his mouth along to his navel, dragging his tongue along the rim as he gently prods.
Does he use the soap now? Probably, yes? He doesn’t want this to be uncomfortable for Rama, though he could feel that hard cock of his pressing against his chest as he leaned over him. He sits back up and picks the container up from the bedspread, inspecting it one more time before he opens it up and spreads it over his fingers.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too strange to continue, yes?” he tells him, soap-slicked fingers brushing against his arse again.
The kiss to his stomach makes the muscles there twitch too. Every time Francis touches him anywhere in this way it’s a shock, his body still unused to being exposed, to being looked at like a priceless work of art, to being touched like something holy. With no clothes in the way, Francis can touch him anywhere; it’s effecting Raju in a way he hadn’t expected.
Francis kisses his stomach, and Raju wants always to be touched like this. Francis licks around the rim of Raju’s navel and Raju’s next breath shakes a little, his hand that’d gone still against his cock drifting down to lay against his thigh.
“Yes,” Raju agrees faintly, gaze still fixed, not thinking much on what it is that he’s agreeing to. Once he does he shifts his attention to Francis’ eyes, smiling at him. “It won’t be strange. Not from you.”
He finds himself letting out a giddy, amused breath, almost laughing, and adds: “Not too strange, anyway.”
“Strange enough for a first time,” he agrees, laughing under his breath. His nose brushes against the trail of hair leading from his navel and down his pelvis, just a moment in time that should be so significant but somehow is. He gets to be intimate with this man, this man that he’s fallen in love with; he gets to kiss his stomach and feel the brush of hair against his cheek and chin. If he had the words he’d write poetry about how alive the heat of his skin against his lips makes him feel.
He circles his fingers again, then just finger, feeling the resistance but breaching it gently. He’s care, oh-so-careful, as though holding a very expensive, very precious instrument.
First time. What an odd thought. Whatever was odd about it is washed away, though, as Francis' nose brushes the trail of hair in a place that, like most other places Francis touches him, it feels like a lifetime since he's felt anything human there, skin and warmth and sensation against his skin. It tickles, of course, and Raju's breath hitches. His fingers twitch, uncurl from the blankets, then curl into them again, his other hand joining the first, needing something to grab to keep his grip away from Francis while Francis focuses on... whatever it is he's planning.
The plan is fingers first, apparently. It surprises Raju how tight he is around only one. At the same time Raju feels the impact of that particular feeling of release, of intimacy tinged with something thrilling, that comes of breaching what's expected, of doing it together. At home it had been there every time he and Seetha lay together, with the pretence of Seetha as an unmarried woman to keep up, even if everyone knew. Here with Francis those pretences don't exist but this, the act itself, brings it back again. It's anything but what anyone who knew him at home would think, in this room with this man who puts his finger up Raju's arse the same way he's touched Raju this whole time, like the act is something sacred.
Raju's actually doing this, now. He wants to know more about it, feel more about it. There's the soap slick on the outside of him and Francis' finger, inside but not quite inside, careful. Raju wiggles his hips around Francis' finger, trying for more sensation. "You can do more," he suggests, not sure what he's suggesting exactly but wanting something. "It doesn't hurt, just... tight, I think."
Not hurting is optimal, and at this point more important than seeking his pleasure - though that second point is certainly something he keeps at the forefront of his mind. He wants so much for himself - to touch and taste and look until he’s had his fill of him, a difficult if not impossible task - but he especially wants Ram to feel good.
“Tight,” he repeats quietly, brow furrowing. He can feel for himself that he’s tight, but pushing too much could hurt him. Still, Ram knows his body, so Crozier nods softly and pushes his finger inside, past his first knuckle and on towards the second. He holds his hand still, hearing his own heartbeat echoing in his head, then moves it very slowly, in and out of that tight heat with a shudder traveling from the base of his own spine to his shoulders.
He can't see what Francis is doing but his gaze is fixed there anyway, past his own erection, on the movement of Francis' arm. He breathes through parted lips, feels the muscles around Francis' finger beginning to relax and then relaxing more with the help of Raju's hips, moving in tiny circles to feel Francis' finger sliding against the edge of him. He feels himself pushing back against Francis' finger, opening up to it. Francis asks if it still doesn't hurt and Raju shakes his head, the movement quick and distracted, no, it doesn't hurt—
—except, he's starting to feel something, isn't he? Something that can't be from Francis' very careful finger. Raju's eyebrows twitch, almost frowning. The squirming of his hips slows as he tries to focus on the inside of him. His gaze moves from between his legs to Francis' face and he huffs out an amused puff of air, brow still wrinkled and the edges of his lips starting to curve up. It's a moment of watching Francis' face that way before he answers because it doesn't hurt, and he doesn't mind...
Francis is going to think the answer to his question is yes by now, though. "It doesn't hurt. But..."
He breathes out a half-laugh, shaking his head. There is a sensation there, but it's hardly strong enough to be worth saying anything. The muscle around Francis' finger tightens just for a moment, experimentally. "Circle your finger around more. I want to be sure. It's not... what you're doing, exactly..."
Well, there’s bound to be some strange feelings, but strange isn’t painful and the demand for more experimentation a fairly encouraging start. “That’s…probably expected,” he supplies, not knowing what’s normal and what’s not. But having someone finger you for the first time is bound to be a usual sensation, and he lets out another laugh through his nose.
“All-right, let’s try…” He trails off with a nod and tries to do exactly that, circling his finger inside of him and watching his face for any wince or twitch of pain.
Maybe if he touched him it would help…couldn’t hurt, at least? He sits up, still mindful not to jerk his hand away or make sudden movements that might hurt him, and takes his cock into his hand to give him a few long strokes.
There's not pain on his face as Francis' finger circles but there is something, something the half-frown and absent gaze says he's paying attention to. The crease between his brows eases as the motion goes on — it does feel good, over top of that odd background sensation that's starting to creep more toward the foreground, now.
And then Francis puts his hand around Raju's cock and Raju gasps quietly, not expecting it, holds the breath and feels the movement of Francis' hand, wiggles his hips and tips his head back at the sensation of both of Francis' hands working on him at once. It occurs to him that Francis wouldn't have been able to do this before, not both things at the same time— not unless he was willing to use his mouth—
Raju closes his eyes, realising he's panting a little as he cuts the thought off there. He has enough to focus on already. And he's supposed to be telling Francis something.
"The... soap," he remembers as he opens his eyes to look up at the ceiling, voice a little more breathless than before. "Don't distract me before I can tell you. Um..."
It is a little embarrassing still, even as distracted as Raju is. "Maybe the oil instead. Or..."
Oil is harder to find though, isn't it? Do they have enough of it to... He can't tell. He's too... well. He's very distracted. "I don't know," he says with a little half-laugh, and lifts his head to smile at Francis, too warm and pleased with all of this to mind anything, even Francis knowing Raju was wrong about something.
The soap? Is it not…doing what it’s meant to do? It all feels fairly well-lubricated to him, and both his hands still while Raju finally gets out the cause of the ‘strangeness’. Oil, not soap, the soap is…?
He pulls his fingers out with a deeply furrowed brow. What’s wrong with the soap?
And then he realizes, and his head drops in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, we’re idiots,” he mutters. Soap is scented and likely made with things one wouldn’t want inside their body, and he’d just gone ahead and pushed a fair amount into Rama.
He starts to laugh softly as he wipes his hand on a shirt on the floor. “Do you need to…ah, are you…”
Oh, this is ridiculous. He starts to laugh again, louder this time, at himself and at Rama’s choice of words and just at the two of them, really, and shakes his head quickly. “Let me get something to wash it off, Ram,” he tells him, leaning forward to press a fond kiss to his lips.
Francis' laughter coaxes more out of Raju too, his half-laugh turning into a giggle, and he leans forward into it when Francis kisses him. Maybe the embarrassment of making the wrong decision doesn't have to be that terrible, this one time. "I don't need to, no," he answers what they're both talking around, grinning. "It burns a little, that's all."
But he doesn't mind letting Francis go to get something to wash some of it off with, either. He leans back onto the bed again to wait, allows himself to squirm a little, bites his lip. It should feel ridiculous, shouldn't it, being tended to like this? But what he's thinking is mostly that all this is already more fun than he'd have expected, if he'd thought to expect anything at all; that particular feeling of the soap where it is, in other circumstances... Well.
While Francis goes wherever he's going Raju cups a hand around his cock again. Coming back to that won't surprise Francis this time but Raju likes doing it, likes Francis watching him doing it. And it distracts him from the fact of laying here waiting.
Crozier’s hurried journey takes him back to the washroom for a dampened flannel and then a brief pause in the kitchen. Oil is a scarce resource, but then again, having two hands and a very comfortably-naked Rama in his bed is as equally as rare and should be enjoyed. To hell with seasoned food, he wants to have his man.
He returns with both things, eyes immediately landing on Ram’s busy hand, and once more his own cock throbs in response to the sight. Crozier sucks in his breath and eases himself back down beside Ram on the bed, setting the cloth in his non-occupied hand and then dipping forward to suck a reddened mark onto one of his beautiful tits.
Raju watches, delighted, as Francis bends over his chest, and squirms at the electric sensation of his mouth. The squirm and twitching tensing of his muscles sends another wave of that burning sensation through the other end of him and Raju grunts, head falling back. "You're so... distractable," Raju manages, voice breathy with pleasure. One hand moves up to Francis' head. moving itself over his hair. "Weren't you going to do something?"
“I’m getting there,” he mutters mid-lick. He doesn’t raise his head but does manage to pass the cloth to Ram, smiling against his skin as he does so. “Tell me when you’re ready to try again.”
Until then he’ll keep himself occupied by lavishing attention to one of Ram’s nipples, the other getting a decidedly rougher treatment as it’s tweaked and pinched by Crozier’s fingers.
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?"
“I can’t, no,” he laughs. The scrabbling at his shoulder finally makes him relent, just for a moment to let Ram collect himself. He’s going to watch him though, just as turned on watching him laugh in exasperation as he tries to clean up from their previous attempt.
He should probably be ready for him when he’s finished though; god knows he’s teased him enough already. He gropes for the bottle of oil and opens it up with two-handed ease, spreading it across his fingers with a little smirk. “I’ll get mine next time, I’m sure.”
"Mm. You will," Raju promises, fervently. "It's good. I never thought about it before. I want to do this to you, exactly like this."
He focuses for a moment. His nipples and his chest are still singing with the echoes of Francis' teeth and lips and tongue, but that wonderful mouth itself has moved away, so focusing is a little easier. Good enough, he decides, and lets out a hard breath when he pulls his cloth-covered fingers out. "Now," he breathes, glancing at his hand as he flicks the cloth closed and reaches blindly to set it aside but putting most of his focus to Francis, to putting his free right hand over Francis' chest, rubbing down over Francis' stomach and his side. "Right now, Francis. The longer you make me wait the longer I make you wait for it next time."
Francis has a fair amount more patience, generally, than Raju does. That doesn't matter. Waiting is the most terrible thing Raju can think of right now, so it's the only threat that he has.
“Now,” Crozier repeats, a little dazed. He wants to see Ram’s fingers disappear like that again. Maybe if he’s loose enough he’ll be able to fuck himself on his own hand -
Focus. Focus. He has to focus, even as his mind’s bombarded with thoughts of Ram having his perfectly reasonable revenge on him. A shiver travels from the base of his neck down along his spine, somewhere along the way triggering the part of him that feels that electric surge of desire. A mischievous little look crosses his face before his oiled-coated fingers quickly replace the ones that Rama had taken away from himself.
He’s tight and hot, and now he’s delightfully slick, and Crozier presses kisses along Rama’s neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of him. “I don’t need much convincing,” he murmurs, “if it’s half as good as you make it look I’d be eager to try it. This side of it is so damn good too, Rama.”
Raju huffs an appreciative breath as he turns his head, giving Francis' lips more room. "Good..." he murmurs and his right hand reaches up to move over Francis' jaw, to rest at the back of his neck. But he needs to touch Francis more while Francis is here and bare like this, needs more of everything, so he lifts his legs to try and bend them over whatever part of Francis is there to wrap around behind. If that pulls Francis closer to him that will be wonderful, and if it jolts Francis out of his rhythm for a moment that's good too; just because Raju's having a wonderful time doesn't mean he's past wanting to tease him.
It succeeds in both aspects, pulling Crozier’s hips down and blocking him from moving his hand as freely. “And you fussed at me for taking my time!” he grumbles, biting his neck in mock annoyance. “Here I am giving you what you want.”
He takes his own form of revenge and hooks his fingers slightly, angling them up into his body as he pushes slower and deeper.
Francis pretends to be annoyed and bites his neck, and Raju's cheeks curve with his wide, self-satisfied grin. But an instant later the expression's gone; his eyes widen, he pulls in a gasp that's nearly louder than most of the other noises he's made this far. The hand on the back of Francis' hand is clutching tightly enough on its own that he's glad he's kept up with trimming his nails. He doesn't want to hurt Francis even a little, it's just...
The blankets and cloth clutched under his left hand are on fire. A little. A very little. He looks at them for a second, panting, then moves his palm over them and tightens his grip to snuff them out.
"Francis," Raju breathes, looking up at him. "Do that again. Whatever you did."
Even if Ram did hurt him he’d be forgiven. Maybe even in the moment he might encourage it - who’s to say what he might crave from him?
He sees the smoke and for a split second looks bewildered. Did he just…? Was that a fire he saw? He looks down into Ram’s face and replicates exactly what he did before, pushing his fingers inside of him deeply and then curving his fingers upward.
They may set the bed on fire. It’d be entirely worth it.
Raju's prepared for it this time. Still, his hips buck and squirm and he lays panting, openmouthed. His legs try to pull Francis a little closer as his hips squirm again, looking for friction, breath shuddering at the feeling of Francis against him. "You have to try this," he breathes shakily and laughs a little, giddy. "I'm not going to..."
It's embarrassing but it's true, so he makes himself warn Francis, and feels his cheeks reddening. "Ah, to last much longer. I think. If there's something else you said you wanted to do..." In spite of the complaint in his tone, Raju's grinning as he looks up at Francis. He can't help it. He doesn't think he could be doing anything else now if he'd tried.
He has little doubt that the first chance Rama gets he’s going to pin Crozier down and do exactly what was done to him, but he’s far too distracted to imagine it. Where Rama is a little embarrassed but mostly giddy, Crozier is simply overcome. Feeling Rama clench down on his fingers, the heat and the perfect pressure, has made him absolutely dizzy with want.
He presses a kiss to his neck and one to his shoulder as he eases his fingers back out of him, gripping Ram’s hips and using that strong hold from his thighs to position himself between his legs. Even typical logistical thinking is gone out the window - he doesn’t care about angles or fitting them together just-so, he just needs to slip into Ram, to be inside of him and feel for himself just how good this is.
Chest leaning forward slightly, hands still using Rama’s leg and hip for balance, he pauses to catch his breath when he makes that first slow ease into him. Not all the way, not quite yet, but just enough that Crozier is sorely tempted to snap his hips and drive himself in all the way up to the hilt. “Fucking hell,” he exhales.
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Soap winds up being the method chosen, after almost every other option is rejected for being potentially unpleasant - grease or cooking oil, or downright disgusting - lard or some other congealed substance. They’re not animals, and this is Rama and Rama’s body, and the last thing he wants to do is disrespect or somehow desecrate that beautiful man who’s given him so damn much. The soap smells pleasant and is clean - it’ll serve their purpose just fine.
He returns expecting either Ram to have responded to the light command with cheek or with strict sincerity, but he hadn’t anticipated him to take a little imitative. He pauses in the doorway and sucks in his breath, eyes raking over his disciplined hand and sprawled legs on their shared bed. Dear god. As though he hadn’t wanted him badly before, he feels a surge of possession and craving as he walks to him, all those other far away thoughts of other obsessive habits completely forgotten.
Crozier kneels between spread legs, mirroring their position from earlier against the tree, and watches him with utter fascination on his face. His hand touches his knee and then idly slips further up his thigh, fingers brushing against curved muscle leading to coarse, curled hair and sensitive skin. He just touches for now, exploring all the spaces of Rama that he’s only imagined before. He listens for his breath and soft noises, pauses for movements in his hands and on his face when his fingers brush behind his balls and down towards his shapely arse.
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For all that he lacks in experience, for all of the thrill in touching him like this for the first time, Rama’s body feels familiar to him, even now. He smiles at that sharp inhale, fingers massaging carefully and he bends forward to kiss Rama’s solid stomach. He moves his mouth along to his navel, dragging his tongue along the rim as he gently prods.
Does he use the soap now? Probably, yes? He doesn’t want this to be uncomfortable for Rama, though he could feel that hard cock of his pressing against his chest as he leaned over him. He sits back up and picks the container up from the bedspread, inspecting it one more time before he opens it up and spreads it over his fingers.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too strange to continue, yes?” he tells him, soap-slicked fingers brushing against his arse again.
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Francis kisses his stomach, and Raju wants always to be touched like this. Francis licks around the rim of Raju’s navel and Raju’s next breath shakes a little, his hand that’d gone still against his cock drifting down to lay against his thigh.
“Yes,” Raju agrees faintly, gaze still fixed, not thinking much on what it is that he’s agreeing to. Once he does he shifts his attention to Francis’ eyes, smiling at him. “It won’t be strange. Not from you.”
He finds himself letting out a giddy, amused breath, almost laughing, and adds: “Not too strange, anyway.”
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“Strange enough for a first time,” he agrees, laughing under his breath. His nose brushes against the trail of hair leading from his navel and down his pelvis, just a moment in time that should be so significant but somehow is. He gets to be intimate with this man, this man that he’s fallen in love with; he gets to kiss his stomach and feel the brush of hair against his cheek and chin. If he had the words he’d write poetry about how alive the heat of his skin against his lips makes him feel.
He circles his fingers again, then just finger, feeling the resistance but breaching it gently. He’s care, oh-so-careful, as though holding a very expensive, very precious instrument.
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The plan is fingers first, apparently. It surprises Raju how tight he is around only one. At the same time Raju feels the impact of that particular feeling of release, of intimacy tinged with something thrilling, that comes of breaching what's expected, of doing it together. At home it had been there every time he and Seetha lay together, with the pretence of Seetha as an unmarried woman to keep up, even if everyone knew. Here with Francis those pretences don't exist but this, the act itself, brings it back again. It's anything but what anyone who knew him at home would think, in this room with this man who puts his finger up Raju's arse the same way he's touched Raju this whole time, like the act is something sacred.
Raju's actually doing this, now. He wants to know more about it, feel more about it. There's the soap slick on the outside of him and Francis' finger, inside but not quite inside, careful. Raju wiggles his hips around Francis' finger, trying for more sensation. "You can do more," he suggests, not sure what he's suggesting exactly but wanting something. "It doesn't hurt, just... tight, I think."
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Not hurting is optimal, and at this point more important than seeking his pleasure - though that second point is certainly something he keeps at the forefront of his mind. He wants so much for himself - to touch and taste and look until he’s had his fill of him, a difficult if not impossible task - but he especially wants Ram to feel good.
“Tight,” he repeats quietly, brow furrowing. He can feel for himself that he’s tight, but pushing too much could hurt him. Still, Ram knows his body, so Crozier nods softly and pushes his finger inside, past his first knuckle and on towards the second. He holds his hand still, hearing his own heartbeat echoing in his head, then moves it very slowly, in and out of that tight heat with a shudder traveling from the base of his own spine to his shoulders.
“Still doesn’t hurt?”
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—except, he's starting to feel something, isn't he? Something that can't be from Francis' very careful finger. Raju's eyebrows twitch, almost frowning. The squirming of his hips slows as he tries to focus on the inside of him. His gaze moves from between his legs to Francis' face and he huffs out an amused puff of air, brow still wrinkled and the edges of his lips starting to curve up. It's a moment of watching Francis' face that way before he answers because it doesn't hurt, and he doesn't mind...
Francis is going to think the answer to his question is yes by now, though. "It doesn't hurt. But..."
He breathes out a half-laugh, shaking his head. There is a sensation there, but it's hardly strong enough to be worth saying anything. The muscle around Francis' finger tightens just for a moment, experimentally. "Circle your finger around more. I want to be sure. It's not... what you're doing, exactly..."
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Well, there’s bound to be some strange feelings, but strange isn’t painful and the demand for more experimentation a fairly encouraging start. “That’s…probably expected,” he supplies, not knowing what’s normal and what’s not. But having someone finger you for the first time is bound to be a usual sensation, and he lets out another laugh through his nose.
“All-right, let’s try…” He trails off with a nod and tries to do exactly that, circling his finger inside of him and watching his face for any wince or twitch of pain.
Maybe if he touched him it would help…couldn’t hurt, at least? He sits up, still mindful not to jerk his hand away or make sudden movements that might hurt him, and takes his cock into his hand to give him a few long strokes.
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And then Francis puts his hand around Raju's cock and Raju gasps quietly, not expecting it, holds the breath and feels the movement of Francis' hand, wiggles his hips and tips his head back at the sensation of both of Francis' hands working on him at once. It occurs to him that Francis wouldn't have been able to do this before, not both things at the same time— not unless he was willing to use his mouth—
Raju closes his eyes, realising he's panting a little as he cuts the thought off there. He has enough to focus on already. And he's supposed to be telling Francis something.
"The... soap," he remembers as he opens his eyes to look up at the ceiling, voice a little more breathless than before. "Don't distract me before I can tell you. Um..."
It is a little embarrassing still, even as distracted as Raju is. "Maybe the oil instead. Or..."
Oil is harder to find though, isn't it? Do they have enough of it to... He can't tell. He's too... well. He's very distracted. "I don't know," he says with a little half-laugh, and lifts his head to smile at Francis, too warm and pleased with all of this to mind anything, even Francis knowing Raju was wrong about something.
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The soap? Is it not…doing what it’s meant to do? It all feels fairly well-lubricated to him, and both his hands still while Raju finally gets out the cause of the ‘strangeness’. Oil, not soap, the soap is…?
He pulls his fingers out with a deeply furrowed brow. What’s wrong with the soap?
And then he realizes, and his head drops in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, we’re idiots,” he mutters. Soap is scented and likely made with things one wouldn’t want inside their body, and he’d just gone ahead and pushed a fair amount into Rama.
He starts to laugh softly as he wipes his hand on a shirt on the floor. “Do you need to…ah, are you…”
Oh, this is ridiculous. He starts to laugh again, louder this time, at himself and at Rama’s choice of words and just at the two of them, really, and shakes his head quickly. “Let me get something to wash it off, Ram,” he tells him, leaning forward to press a fond kiss to his lips.
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But he doesn't mind letting Francis go to get something to wash some of it off with, either. He leans back onto the bed again to wait, allows himself to squirm a little, bites his lip. It should feel ridiculous, shouldn't it, being tended to like this? But what he's thinking is mostly that all this is already more fun than he'd have expected, if he'd thought to expect anything at all; that particular feeling of the soap where it is, in other circumstances... Well.
While Francis goes wherever he's going Raju cups a hand around his cock again. Coming back to that won't surprise Francis this time but Raju likes doing it, likes Francis watching him doing it. And it distracts him from the fact of laying here waiting.
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Crozier’s hurried journey takes him back to the washroom for a dampened flannel and then a brief pause in the kitchen. Oil is a scarce resource, but then again, having two hands and a very comfortably-naked Rama in his bed is as equally as rare and should be enjoyed. To hell with seasoned food, he wants to have his man.
He returns with both things, eyes immediately landing on Ram’s busy hand, and once more his own cock throbs in response to the sight. Crozier sucks in his breath and eases himself back down beside Ram on the bed, setting the cloth in his non-occupied hand and then dipping forward to suck a reddened mark onto one of his beautiful tits.
His. His his his.
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“I’m getting there,” he mutters mid-lick. He doesn’t raise his head but does manage to pass the cloth to Ram, smiling against his skin as he does so. “Tell me when you’re ready to try again.”
Until then he’ll keep himself occupied by lavishing attention to one of Ram’s nipples, the other getting a decidedly rougher treatment as it’s tweaked and pinched by Crozier’s fingers.
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"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?"
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“I can’t, no,” he laughs. The scrabbling at his shoulder finally makes him relent, just for a moment to let Ram collect himself. He’s going to watch him though, just as turned on watching him laugh in exasperation as he tries to clean up from their previous attempt.
He should probably be ready for him when he’s finished though; god knows he’s teased him enough already. He gropes for the bottle of oil and opens it up with two-handed ease, spreading it across his fingers with a little smirk. “I’ll get mine next time, I’m sure.”
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He focuses for a moment. His nipples and his chest are still singing with the echoes of Francis' teeth and lips and tongue, but that wonderful mouth itself has moved away, so focusing is a little easier. Good enough, he decides, and lets out a hard breath when he pulls his cloth-covered fingers out. "Now," he breathes, glancing at his hand as he flicks the cloth closed and reaches blindly to set it aside but putting most of his focus to Francis, to putting his free right hand over Francis' chest, rubbing down over Francis' stomach and his side. "Right now, Francis. The longer you make me wait the longer I make you wait for it next time."
Francis has a fair amount more patience, generally, than Raju does. That doesn't matter. Waiting is the most terrible thing Raju can think of right now, so it's the only threat that he has.
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“Now,” Crozier repeats, a little dazed. He wants to see Ram’s fingers disappear like that again. Maybe if he’s loose enough he’ll be able to fuck himself on his own hand -
Focus. Focus. He has to focus, even as his mind’s bombarded with thoughts of Ram having his perfectly reasonable revenge on him. A shiver travels from the base of his neck down along his spine, somewhere along the way triggering the part of him that feels that electric surge of desire. A mischievous little look crosses his face before his oiled-coated fingers quickly replace the ones that Rama had taken away from himself.
He’s tight and hot, and now he’s delightfully slick, and Crozier presses kisses along Rama’s neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of him. “I don’t need much convincing,” he murmurs, “if it’s half as good as you make it look I’d be eager to try it. This side of it is so damn good too, Rama.”
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It succeeds in both aspects, pulling Crozier’s hips down and blocking him from moving his hand as freely. “And you fussed at me for taking my time!” he grumbles, biting his neck in mock annoyance. “Here I am giving you what you want.”
He takes his own form of revenge and hooks his fingers slightly, angling them up into his body as he pushes slower and deeper.
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The blankets and cloth clutched under his left hand are on fire. A little. A very little. He looks at them for a second, panting, then moves his palm over them and tightens his grip to snuff them out.
"Francis," Raju breathes, looking up at him. "Do that again. Whatever you did."
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Even if Ram did hurt him he’d be forgiven. Maybe even in the moment he might encourage it - who’s to say what he might crave from him?
He sees the smoke and for a split second looks bewildered. Did he just…? Was that a fire he saw? He looks down into Ram’s face and replicates exactly what he did before, pushing his fingers inside of him deeply and then curving his fingers upward.
They may set the bed on fire. It’d be entirely worth it.
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It's embarrassing but it's true, so he makes himself warn Francis, and feels his cheeks reddening. "Ah, to last much longer. I think. If there's something else you said you wanted to do..." In spite of the complaint in his tone, Raju's grinning as he looks up at Francis. He can't help it. He doesn't think he could be doing anything else now if he'd tried.
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He has little doubt that the first chance Rama gets he’s going to pin Crozier down and do exactly what was done to him, but he’s far too distracted to imagine it. Where Rama is a little embarrassed but mostly giddy, Crozier is simply overcome. Feeling Rama clench down on his fingers, the heat and the perfect pressure, has made him absolutely dizzy with want.
He presses a kiss to his neck and one to his shoulder as he eases his fingers back out of him, gripping Ram’s hips and using that strong hold from his thighs to position himself between his legs. Even typical logistical thinking is gone out the window - he doesn’t care about angles or fitting them together just-so, he just needs to slip into Ram, to be inside of him and feel for himself just how good this is.
Chest leaning forward slightly, hands still using Rama’s leg and hip for balance, he pauses to catch his breath when he makes that first slow ease into him. Not all the way, not quite yet, but just enough that Crozier is sorely tempted to snap his hips and drive himself in all the way up to the hilt. “Fucking hell,” he exhales.
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