Boothill had a quiet habit of showing affection whenever he could. Whether it was a kiss on your temple, your neck, or the back of your hand, each touch seemed to carry a mix of tenderness and something deeper. Despite his mechanical body limiting his sensations below the neck, he found comfort in the warmth of your skin, a reassurance that you were still there with him.

Often, he’d press gentle kisses against you, more for his own comfort than anything else, a reminder of your presence.

"Yer so warm, sweetheart, I wish I could eat you up right now," he teased with a low chuckle, brushing his lips against your temple before planting a kiss there. Despite the playful words, his affection was clear.