Alright, update! Thank you to those of you who bore with me, I hope this patially makes up for the huge delay. By the way, I'd like your opinions. Should I make this a lemon, or should I continue with the T rating? Up to you people, so lemme know ^u^
You groan audibly as you wake, and immediately feel a searing pain in both your right thigh and your abdomen. Not quite remembering any of the events that led to this unbearable agony, you cry out and clutch your stomach in an attempt to relieve some of the ache. Oddly enough, your fingers brush up against an unfamiliar fabric, and in that same moment you realize that you're hoodie is hitched up to your chest. Although, this isn't the purple hoodie that you'd become so accustomed to during your stay here in Detroit. This hoodie was black as night, contrasting perfectly with the bright sky above you.
You shift your head slightly to get a better view of your situation, but quickly squeeze your eyes shut when they're blinded by a stray ray of sunlight. You groan again before sitting up, which requires far more effort than usual. The pain nearly triples as you move, but you push through and open your eyes a second time, though you are reluctant. Luckily, no piercing rays attack your pupils, allowing you to access the damage.
Wrapped around your stomach is a light brown sweater with splotches of red, which strikes you as important, though you can't recall why. A similar splotch of red has formed on the upper right portion of your jeans, and part of you is worried that these red stains may be your blood. That'd certainly explain the pain in those two regions, but the question was WHY you were bleeding.
You shake your head, trying to rid the question from your mind. Successful, you instead try to figure out where you are. To your right is a tall brick wall, and to your left? The exact same thing. In front of you is a barren walkway that leads out into a street, and you can only assume that the walkway part is behind you as well. With astounding logic, you deduce that you are currently sitting in an alley.
Proud of yourself for figuring that much out, you lean back a little and rest your palms on the dirt beneath you. Time to figure out what the fuck is going on. You knit your eyebrows together as you find your gaze inexplicably drawn to the light brown fabric addressed earlier. Suddenly, as if the image were some sort of memory catalyst, the mornings events come rushing back to you, leaving you with only one thought.
Tavbro!
You jolt upwards in an attempt to stand, but you find yourself unable to support yourself thanks to the bullet wound in your leg. You collapse back to the ground, dust flying up around you as you let loose a whine from the discomfort.
"I wouldn't advise getting up right now."
As soon as you hear the familiar voice from behind you, relief floods into your mind. Desperation to see his face temporarily numbs the pain as you quickly swivel around in the dirt, twisting your waist at an odd angle. Within a matter of seconds, your body follows the motion, and you're sitting in a position that appears far more comfortable. You briefly wonder how messed up your face paint is and reach a hand up to your face instinctively, but that idiotic wonder soon fades into fear: your face paint is no longer covering the atrocities on your face. Not even trying to hide your self-loathing, you jerk your head away from Tavros, but a part of you already knows he's seen. Hiding was simply no use. You sigh in defeat and turn back towards Tavros, who's looking at you with child-like amusement.
Then, you notice the most miraculous thing you've ever seen. Not only is Tavros shirtless, but he's abandoned the hat he'd been wearing this morning, and with the daylight shining down on the two of you, you can finally see the color of his mohawk.
"Brown…" you mumble under your breath in astonishment. Tavros laughs, apparently hearing you, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Mesmerized by his beauty, his purity, his being, you half scoot/half crawl over to your lovely new companion. He watches you with interest, but you're too focused to be deterred. You're a sober man with a mission, and you were going to carry through with it no matter what.
After experiencing worry for the first time in forever, you're certain of what you're doing. You could figure out how you lived later, but for now, you needed this. Right now, you were sprawled right next to him, still indifferent to the pain. He raises an eyebrow and grins a little, obviously a little confused and embarrassed. His cheeks glow with the familiar pinkish tint from various times before, only serving to draw you closer. You sit up to the best of your ability, and in one fluid movement, press your lips flush against his.
Your eyes are shut tight as you revel in the moment, and your passions are merely fueled when you feel him kiss back and wrap two moderately muscular arms around your neck. You're thankful for the support as you kiss deeper, pleased when he eagerly parts his lips and forces his tongue between yours. You willingly accept the appendage and wrap yours around it, shocking him with it's length. You feel, rather than hear him giggle as your tongues dance to a enticing rhythm that only the two of you will ever know.
If you could have it your way, you'd have taken him right here in this alleyway, but deep down you knew that was wrong. Someone as miraculous as him deserved a little class, so you decided to stop yourself while you still could. Pulling away, the boy in front of you whines and looks at you pleadingly. It takes every fucking fiber of your being not to accept the invitation. Chuckling, you look away and gaze at the wound on your leg. He apparently follows your gaze, because you can hear the alarm in his voice as he speaks.
"I only had enough clothes to um… To cover your stomach. I er… Well I wouldn't taken off my pants, but…," he trails off, leaving you to imagine why he didn't. You assume he's without boxers, and you fight the urge to tell him how much you'd have motherfucking LOVED to wake up to that. Instead, you offer comforting words.
"Hey now bro, you still did a motherfucking choice respect for me, and I'd say them pretty lips a yours sure as hell made up for whatever you think you up and did wrong," you console with a wink, eliciting a giggle from him that makes you gush, "Speaking of what ya done did for me, how the fuck did we get here anyhow?"
Tavros makes a grimace, displaying his distaste for the situation he was about to explain. Even with a look of disgust, he still looks adorable to you, so you listen intently with a dreamy haze to your eyes.
"Well, soon after you.. Uh, blacked out and stuff, there were sirens so the guy shooting absconded. When he left I just picked you up and," he pauses, chuckling at the memory of carrying your limp body to an abandoned alley, "And I just brought ya here. Then I just tried to stop the bleeding cause… Um, I… I didn't want you to die…"
You reward his actions with a goofy smile and slouch down so your head can rest comfortably in his lap, and if you strain your eyes just a little, you can get a pretty good look at his lightly sculpted chest. Lovely view after a lovely moment. You're not really disappointed about the TV, because no show on that thing could compare to the view you have right now. You sense that Tavbro knows you're staring, but if he does, he doesn't say a word. He simply runs, or tries to, his fingers through your impossible hair.
"So… Are we gonna go home?" he asks timidly, and you smile because he actually called your shitty apartment home. That's probably the most comforting thing you've ever heard in your entire life, and honestly, you'd be content with laying like this forever, but you know he deserves a softer seat eventually.
"Soon enough my choice motherfucker, but for now, lemme just enjoy laying all up on you. You're damn comfy Tavbabe," you tell him, attempting a new nickname. When he doesn't object, you're smile widens and you close your eyes. He starts to hum and abandons trying to rake his fingers through your hair, deciding to just pet you instead. Filled with a happiness that weed could never bring you, you allow his humming to lull you into a blissful rest.