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One time, he tore his jumpsuit, and the only thing available was in light pink, and you absolutely loved it, calling him cute and adorable. So on occasion, he'd wear it again instead of his usual dark gray, grumbling that all his other stuff is in the laundry, but secretly, he just enjoys how happy you get when he wears it.
He'd keep every little thing you gave him. Once you gave him a couple of wild flowers you found, and thought they looked like him. They were purple, with thorns, not the kind someone would choose for a bouquet. But if you handle them carefully, you could admire them forever. He scoffed and said he didn't look like any flower, but then he strapped them to his backpack and carried them until there were only stems left.
He loves how good you are with his BB. How you always smile and tap on the pod saying hi. He loves how you don't treat the baby as equipment despite what the Bridges tells you all. It makes his heart stutter in that weird way, and he'd get that soft little smirk going.
He's sassy. First, in a grumpy, annoyed kind of way, maybe even coming across as mean. "You sure it's the best way to pack your backpack?" Later, more in a playful, teasing way. "Those are some tight pants. I do enjoy looking, but I will enjoy it more when you rip them on the road."
He'd be taken aback by how you consciously always made sure not to invade his personal space since the minute you learned about his phobia.
The first time you came "too close" and he didn't flinch with his breath hitching not in the usual way, he stayed up all night thinking about it.
He'd go ages mauling over how you got under his skin and how you deserve better, a man who can actually touch his woman. Thinking about you as "his woman" would bring a little smile to his face, but then he'd crush it and shove the feeling deep down. It's not real, he'd say to himself.
You'd have to be the one to make the proverbial first move, convincing him he's enough. After a while, you got tired of his buts and what-ifs and listed all the ways you could do things, making the man a blushing mess. (Yes, you thought about all of those options before. A lot.)
He would be the first to initiate the first touch. You were on some joint delivery. You were going on and on about how you hated going to this place, how terrain was shit, and so on, and he just watched your face, that little smile creeping up on his, barely registering your words. He touched your gloved hand with his just barely. For a second, you thought he just brushed it on accident, but then he hooked his index finger with yours, and that shut you up real quick. You basically melted into a puddle and wore a stupid grin all the way to your destination.
You'd start with him getting comfortable with you being closer than at arm's length. With time, he'd stop tensing up when you came up close. He loved your breath on his skin, especially his lips. You were so close, but he trusted you with himself fully, trusted you not to touch.
Hear me out. Two words. Mutual self-masturbation. It was the first real thing you actually did together. It was awkward at first. Both of you were blushing like hell. But the way you looked at him? It set his whole body on fire. The way you looked pleasuring yourself, moaning and sighing, and then you moaned his name, and he was done for.
It was his favorite. Until one time, you knelt in front of him looking up, your mouth wide open, and he got to cum right on your tongue. Now, that was his favorite.
First, he'd be comfortable with clothes over clothes touching. Any kind of touching. The first time you dry humped he came so fast he was grumpy and embarrassed for a week. Despite the million times you told him that that was hot.
He'd come around eventually because having you in his lap was heavenly. Your ragged breaths right into his ear, you holding onto his shoulders like your life depended on it, your hips rolling just right? It all made his head swim.
The amount of underwear you ruined, because he was so in the moment, he didn't even notice it until it was too late, is insane, embarrassing, and also kinda hot.
He doesn't have a particularly high sex drive. But now that you're doing all this, how can he deny you? He'd pat his thigh for you to climb on, he'd hold your waist gently, letting you just grind on him. Whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He's gotten strangely good at that. He'd grab your ass dragging you over his thigh when your movements would stutter watching your face as you came undone.