“No, Logan, go away.” Dwight dismissed him absently, rearranging the order of some various repulsive ingredients that looked fairly illegal. Was that… was that blood?
“But Dwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” Logan almost pouted, as close to pouting as Logan could really get.
“No,” said Dwight, as if he was scolding a puppy. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for this.” The other boy bounced slightly from his place on the bed, making it squeak.
“But I love you, Dwight! And I’m hornyyyyy!”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Dwight allowed his head to fall onto the cabinet door with a bang.
“Yes, I know, now shut up!”
Logan whimpered. This wouldn’t do. Dwight continued his artistic feng shui of salt and chalk circles, re-lining the door again. “I’m telling you, something has gotten in here recently…” he mumbled to himself, half-uncertain, but Logan didn’t seem to care. Walking up behind his boyfriend, he pressed himself against Dwight, tugging on his shirt and whining into his ear, something hard and hot pressing into his lower back. He shuddered, feeling a wet, hot mouth affixing itself to his neck and sucking on a vein; he couldn’t hold back the building moan that threatened to drop from his lips, and it was expelled into the air. Head falling back onto Logan’s shoulder, he gave in.