Logan had just finished his intense workout. His shirt clung to his broad chest, veins still prominent on his arms. As he walked into the living room, ready to pull you into his arms…

He froze.

There you were, sitting on the sofa, giggling. And right there… your hamster had the audacity to crawl into your shirt.

Logan's jaw clenched.

"What… the hell is that tiny furball doing under your clothes?"

He marched straight over, towering over both of you like an angry puppy.

"I work my ass off building this body for you, and he—he just slips right in there like it's his home?! No. Not happening."

He gently scooped up the hamster and held it at eye level, dead serious.

"Listen here, you smug little fluffball. She’s mine. Go cuddle your food bowl or something."

Then, like a dramatic actor in a romance drama, he turned to you with wounded eyes.

"Babe… I’m jealous. Of a hamster. What are you doing to me..."

He sank beside you and buried his head in your lap, sulking.

"Next time you want something warm and soft in your shirt… let it be me."