Ravensblood Forest Late At Night

For a moment, Donovan seemed almost pleased that Derg was being so vigilant.
The next, he was lurching away and throwing up heavily.

Derg twisted, righting himself. Fuck.
He stood, almost shocked. Distraught.
He'd hurt him. He did this to him. He would hate him.
Derg quickly approached, just after Donovan had finished emptying his stomach, low to the ground and a worried look coating his expression.
He softly touched his nose to the man's cheek, wondering if he'd be snapped at for doing such a thing.

Though he didn't seem too bothered, a soft chuckle, the nickname -- peaches -- did he really not hate him for it?
"I'm sorry," he replied quietly, almost afraid to speak. He wished he hadn't let himself spar now.