"Killers and witness, they show up and all. Wish you was here to go pour up and talk..."
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By the time he gets home, the sky is a hazy orange and his head is pounding. The headache that's been steadily building up all day has reached a crescendo and it's killing him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose Durk has enough energy to unlock his door and slip inside before letting his eyes slide shut. He exhales slowly and is left breathless as a sudden jolt of pain shoots right behind his ear sending him staggering back against the door.
"Fuck," He hisses, grabbing at his head. "Fuck."
"What's up, what's goin' on?" A voice, low and soft, sounds from right in front of him and Durk doesn't even have the energy to wonder how the fuck this nigga got in his house, instead he reaches out blindly, needing to sit down before he passes out.
A hand grabs his, big and blissfully cool, and another settles on the small of his back, leading him over to the living room. "Talk to me, yo head hurt or sum?"
"I got a migraine, this shit," He pauses, twisting up his face as another thrum of pain spiderwebs across the back of his head. "This shit is killin' me."
"Ight, hold on." Davyon's hands slip away and Durk turns to press his head into the couch cushions already missing the cold press of Von's hands -- what the fuck?
Missing the cold press of that nigga's hands? What the fuck is wrong with him?
Groaning quietly he sits up, tugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes so that he can pull his feet up onto the couch. There's a quiet shuffling behind him so Durk turns, watching over the back of the couch as Davyon does something in the kitchen.
He has his back to him, broad shoulders shifting minutely under a soft gray hoodie as he moves around in Durk's kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking inside the fridge like he lives here.
"Here, lean back." Von rounds the island holding a dark towel and Durk squints up at him as he approaches the couch and braces himself on one knee, reaching out to lay the towel across Durk's head.
The relief is immediate and Durk sighs, melting back into the cushions.
"You good?"
"Yea this is good. I owe you -" He pries one eye open and flinches back, causing the towel to shift as he meets Von's gaze. The man is leaning over him, dark eyes intense even he furrows his eyebrows, reaching out to tug the towel back into place.
"Stop fuckin' moving."
"You awfully close nigga." He says, heat rushing up the back of his neck.
Something unreadable flashes in Von's eyes and the man stares down at him for a moment before the edges of his lips quirk up into a smile, soft and just a little cocky. "What about it?"
Durk blinks up at him, mouth suddenly dry. "So...so back up a lil, the fuck you mean 'what about it'."
Suddenly Von is inches away and a large hand is resting lightly against his throat, strong fingers flexing minutely against the sensitive skin. Instinctively, Durk braces his hands on the man's forearm, heart pounding in his ears.
What is happening?
"I mean, what the fuck are you gonna do about it." The words come out soft, amused, the low timbre of Davyon's voice sending a shudder down his spine.
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To the person who commented on the last chapter and said 'no update, damn' this is for you.
