Summary: You don’t like being touched, and yet you crave it. You don’t like hard words, and yet you yearn for them. You don’t like things being unpredictable, and yet you’re hopelessly in love with Jesse McCree.
“Jesse-” your voice cuts off abruptly. “Stop.” The touch on your leg pauses, fingers hovering just over your knee. You don’t even give your boyfriend a couple seconds to ask what’s wrong before you’re yanking the limb away from his hand, pulling it so your knees are up to your chest.
It wasn’t as if the two of you are sitting all that close to one another to begin with as it is, simply sharing the couch in the rec room of the base, watching some show or another that Jesse had been so bent on watching with you. It was entertaining overall, but at some point the man’s well-meaning touch of his hand on your knee became just too much to bare. Your nerves started to feel hot, burning, near-painful until you simply had to stop that tracing thumb over your kneecap.