Good — good, that's — 

He murmurs something that might very well be ''mine."

Around his wrist he says something that might very well be "yours." 

What happens if he nibbles Sataro's dick and digs fingers into his hips hard enough to bruise at the same time?

He shudders and his breath comes out broken and he pulls involuntarily on Ashka's hair and comes. 

Ashka swallows all of it and sits up to straddle him and kisses him.

Kissing and afterglow and Ashka are — comfortable. Soft, like sinking into warm water. 

Ashka strips off his shirt and pants and starts slowly and lazily jerking himself off.

Sataro keeps kissing him, keeps his hands in Ashka's hair. 

He sits up, moves so he's sitting on Sataro's chesr and his dick is so close to Sataro's lips, keeps stroking.

He's not really sure what to do with that — he's not close enough to kiss him again — 

Ashka puts his fingers to Sataro's lips and says, "Suck."

He obeys. 

It — 

He feels like his skin is crawling. 

"...you okay?"

(disgusting dirty broken rotting should just lie down in the snow and stay there how could he how could he) 

"I'm alright." 

Ashka looks at him, lies down next to him, and pulls him close.

The touch shouldn't help. It still does. 

"You're mine," he says. "You're mine and you did good."

"Yours," very quiet. He's not sure how much he believes it. 

"Touching you makes me really happy."

"And touching you makes me happy." It's true, even — it's not the touch that's the problem — 

"Good." Kiss. "I really want you to be happy."

Sataro doesn't know how to tell him that he doesn't think he's been happy in a long time. 

"And you," he says instead of that, kisses him back. 

"You're so good."

He makes a soft protesting noise but doesn't  argue.