logan who’s like, super handsy but not in the way that it’s super PDA, but like he’s sticking his hand UP ur shirt in public, he’s got his hugeass hand around a titty in the middle of the night, he’s rubbing his beard against ur neck. i need to have him knock me up this actually cannot run
the sickest part is that, according to him, it often isn't intentional.
when he's standing in the store with you, impatience leaking from every inch of him, his mind just wanders. he's thinking about something he saw on TV a few weeks ago while you're trying to choose between two items, standing just a few inches in front of him. and whenever you ask his opinion, he steps forward, humming as he slides his hand around your hip. you don't think much of it, leaning back against his chest and holding up the two—admittedly, extremely similar—items.
but then his pinkie latches underneath your shirt and you flinch when his palm presses against your stomach. when you try to push his hand off of you, it's only because he's reaching inappropriate territory, leading up towards your bra and bringing your shirt with it.
"in public," you curtly remind him, putting one item back on the shelf and taking the other in your hand.
logan just shrugs, lowering his hand to your waist as you begin to walk away with him practically on a leash behind you. "then take me home."
and when you are home, it's basically the same. his hands are everywhere, always.
tucked under the waistband of your shorts when he has you curled up under his arm while he cooks, gripping the back of your neck when you're sitting on the couch together, holding your tit beneath your shirt while you're sleeping.
he always tells you, "it just happens," but his smirk makes you wonder just truthful that is.
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