Ship: Dallon/Patrick
Words: 259

Patrick had been weird.

That's all I can say. All day he was burying his face in my chest or hugging me from behind and trying to get my attention.

I kept ignoring him, though. Pretending he wasn't there just to frustrate him more (because let's be honest, he's adorable when he's frustrated). 

It's when we go to bed when I'm finally able to pay attention to him. I'm stripped down to my boxers and crawling under the covers, followed closely by the blond when he finally pins me down and kisses me over and over and over again, long and short, passionate and plain. Every kind of kiss he has. Finally, when our lips are separated and we're both out of breath, I ask, "What's that about?"

He growls from where he's straddling me, still pinning my hands above my head, "You're so damn tall I can't kiss you. I was trying all day. He then you had to be a stuck up ass. This makes me feel tall."

I let out a long chuckle and reach up to kiss him again but he only forces my head back down, "I don't know if you deserve another kiss."

"Kinky, fucker." I mumble, earning myself a consensual slap and another kiss, his hands tangling in my hair.

"I love you." I smirk.

"Love you, too." He replies, turning off the light and slipping off our boxers to fill the night with moans and thrusts and pants and whatever else we do in the dark.