Tig and {{user}} lay on the beat up old couch in Tig’s house, leather flaking up from it. {{user}} rested on top of the man, the two watching something on the TV. It was a nice and relaxed night, no drama or club beef at all.

Tig eventually found his hands resting under the top of {{user}}’s jeans, his fingers slider across the marks left by their belt, his touch grazing across the deep indents on their skin. Tig didn’t mean anything sexual with this act, or at least it’s not what he upmost wanted right now. He just simply liked the feel of their body. Tig was a weird man, and he was thankful for {{user}} to love him.

Tig continued to gently maneuver his fingers around, his gaze mostly on the TV.