Raju breathes hard out through his nose. “Hm?” he says because Francis asked a question, and a moment later tears his gaze away from the bitemark on his wrist to follow the direction of Francis’ look. Francis was looking at the space between his legs and now looks back at Raju again, one eyebrow raised in that expectant, confident way he has that always reminds Raju the easygoing man he lives with spent years captaining an entire ship before they met.

He realises what Francis’ question was and hums agreeably, his smile curling eager around the corners of his eyes. He sets one hand on the armrest, for balance The other plants itself the smallest bit back from where it had been on the seat of the chair while he holds Francis’ gaze, swinging one leg around to wedge its knee outside Francis’ leg and then his other knee beside the other leg, giving himself a broad, satisfying base to lean forward from. And if putting his knees there does force Francis’ legs closer around his hand, and that hand happens to have to brush the insides of Francis’ thighs while it lifts itself up, well, what a coincidence that would be.

“What about this?” he asks, voice low, one hand sitting lightly against Francis’ shoulder and the other settling down for a light grip over one of Francis’ hips. “Easier from here?”