And this time when he relaxes he winds up coming down Tazalkyran's throat.

Mmmmmmm.

He takes his mouth away, when Asher is good and done, and stretches out at his side and snuggles up again, pillowing his head on a blood-smeared shoulder.

"You're perfect," he sighs. "I love you so much."

"Mmmyeah,"

He's floaty and unconcerned about all the blood that used to be in his body and currently is not.

He nuzzles the side of Asher's neck and licks a smear of blood from his collarbone. They're mostly slow trickles, not enough to add up to serious blood loss. He can double-check to make sure he hasn't fucked anything up. In a minute. Asher is very cozy.

Technically, Tazalkyran can do whatever he wants, but Asher wants cuddles and not checking for blood loss.

The cuddles are very good.

He does at least run his hands over all the parts of Asher in reach and make sure his fingers don't come back wetter than expected.

Asher likes this plan.

It must be a great plan, because it resulted in Asher making that face. What a good face. Good and soft and pretty. The best softest prettiest face.

Maybe he can put his fingers in more of Asher's wounds. Just a suggestion.

If Asher wants Tazalkyran to follow this suggestion he may have to... suggest it. Right now there is mostly snuggles and nuzzles and gentle petting.

But words are hard.

Then he will just have to put up with being gently lovingly snuggled.

That's okay.

Tazalkyran will have to put up with being slightly bled on.

Being slightly bled on is lovely.

It's good that they have so many interests in common!

Isn't it though!

Asher snuggles him and bleeds and contemplates how good he is.

And Tazalkyran snuggles him and pets him and contemplates how good he is and...

...falls...

...asleep.

Look, it's been a hell of a day.

That is completely reasonable.

In the evening, Tazalkyran wakes up to the most delicious smell he has probably ever smelled.

...what.

He gets up to go investigate.

Asher has bandaged himself up and is naked except for an apron. He's cooking. 

"I grew up in a restaurant," he says, "I never learned how to cook normal portions."

"That's adorable. You're adorable. What are you making? I can't remember if I've... had... any food... in this world yet... wow I'm really hungry."

"Oh good, maybe you'll actually eat all of this and I won't have to freeze it." He ladles out some soup into a bowl, then gives Tazalkyran a plate of some baked oysters still in their shell and some sort of fried vegetable. "This is my mom's famous gumbo, and these are oysters Rockefeller and smothered okra."

"I have no idea what any of that means!"

But he happily tries it anyway.

The food is extremely good. Possibly some of the best food Tazalkyran has ever had in his life, depending on the availability of spice and fat in his home country. The gumbo is hard to eat if you don't enjoy incredibly spicy food; the oysters and okra are designed for less spice-tolerant palates.