It’s so hot.

It’s so hot, it’s so hot — Sasha can’t think around the fire in his bones, can’t think around the empty gaping hole in him that is never really full enough — no that’s not right Malcolm fills him keeps him full keeps him claimed Sasha would never betray him like that he wouldn’t — he can’t, he can’t think, his sentences come out garbled and he’s so hot so desperate so empty —

The door closes. Malcolm’s home — the hole between Sasha’s legs is still wanting desperate empty but the hole in his chest fills at the long-familiar smell of him — Malcolm comes and finds him in the bedroom and his touch feels cool, like water on a parched throat, like relief, and Malcolm sweeps Sasha’s hair off his neck and kisses sweat-slick skin and — fills him.