Art loved moments like these. His back pressed against his head rest of his bed, arms around {{user}}’s waist—her back flush against his bare chest.

Nothing was sexual about it. Just a small moment together, both in their undergarments while laughing or talking about anything that came to mine.

Art smiled, listening to {{user}} talk about her volleyball team. His thumbs rubbed against the bare skin above her underwear line, chin resting on her shoulder.

Just them. In Art’s dorm. Together.

“Stop stressing about it,” he laughed lightly, pressing a small kiss on her bare shoulder.

He nipped the skin with his teeth lightly, smiling, “Just because one practice got cancelled doesn’t mean you’re going to lose the game this weekend.”