Page 4 of Desiderium
“You know… Twinkie’s are, technically, filled throughthreeholes…,” Cole helpfully states with a cunning smile.
“Exactly,” Hawk responds, a large mischievous grin covering his face.
Uh, possible food kink?... Check!
Jax turns the shower on once again before facing me, his lips tilting up like the others. “All in due time, baby. All in due time.”
I sigh to myself, shaking my head and laughing at these guys and how much I’ve fallen for each of them over the past year. It’s barely even nine o’clock in the morning, but what a way to start the day.
Chapter Three
Aly
There are freaking marshmallows on my sandwich!
After we all officially cleaned ourselves up from the run and the yummy chocolate, Jax revealed that he did, in fact, make us all lunch. The peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, prepared with the bread he made yesterday, are just what the doctor ordered to cure my hunger after all that. Seriously, Cole asked specifically for them this morning. They would have been made with jelly or jam or some such fruit spread but we had since run out. I’m not complaining, though.
I moan around my next bite, bopping about in my chair and giving my food thehappy tummy happy girl danceit deserves. My feet join in a second later, tapping under the table with exuberance.
I almost cried when we found the jar on one of our scouting trips. Normally, it’s a northern delicacy but someone must have transplanted themselves down here and brought it with the rest of their stuff. I don’t blame them atall. If it was me, I’d stock up on all the foods I might miss from home, too.
“Fuck, yes, these are so good,” Hawk says as he dives in for another huge bite. It only takes four of those massive bites for him to finish the sandwich in his hand before reaching for another. I’ve come to learn, in the months since Hawk and Cole found me, that these guys have the appetites of competition eaters. The giant platter of PB and fluff goodness, that doesn’t stand a chance at all against them, is proof enough of that.
“Yeah, well… eat up. We’re gonna have to go on another scouting run either today or tomorrow. Supplies are getting pretty low,” Jax inputs with a sigh.
It’s definitely been different living at the ‘bug-out-bungalow’ versus the estate. The first obvious difference is the lack of space. This is, essentially, aone main room plus a bathroomhunting cabin. Even if Jax says he stocked the place, there’s only so much room to pack it in, even with the mini cold cellar downstairs that used to house his stash of bacon. Not to mention, with factories no longer producing goods, there are no more new shipments to replace what we’ve taken. It makes me miss the garden and the plucky chickens Jax used to have at the old place.
It's now halfway through April, which means it’s been almost a good six months that we’ve been here, at the cabin, and over a year since this shit show started. Winter was quiet, for the most part. Well… it wasn’tquiet, as in less zombies, but there were substantially less rapist douchebags. The lack oflivingassholes to worry about definitely made the season more bearable, even by just a little bit, leaving theduration of our time here filled with scouting, training, and simply learning to be together.
Going from having no boyfriends to having three in the span of about a month definitely takes some getting used to. Especially when there’re no separate personal spaces to retreat to and reflect in after date night.
Don’t get me wrong, we each had our own rooms at the estate. But here? There’s simply no escaping each other. Living together in such close proximity, as we have, has fast forwarded our relationships into hyperdrive, forcing us to confront the good, the badandthe ugly.
Let’s just say, we’ve learneda lotabout each other.
Communication.
That’s what Cole emphasized before we even jumped into this crazy groupleor reverse harem or whatever the fuck we are. He told us that, in order to make this work, we needed to let it all out. Everything. Put it all on the table, even if we were afraid of what the others might think. And it’s worked as far as I can tell. We’ve had our ups and downs as any relationship would but we worked through them as a team and continue to do so. Being pretty much forced to cohabitate in a one-room cabin all winter exposed all kinds of little quirks or irritants that eventually weaseled themselves under your skin and made you want to claw your eyeballs out.
Like Jax and his superstitions.
I can get behind a few of them, likeno umbrellas inside the house. This place is tiny as hell, I don’t need one of those pokey things on an umbrella gouging my eye outbecause someone just so happened to be standing too close to me. But salt? Freaking table salt. As if he was a witch or a warlock warding off evil. God forbid someone knocked over the bottle on accident. This not only resulted in having some on the table or where ever the person spilled it at the time, but also all over the floor after Jax threw it over his shoulder. Now, a normal person probably wouldn’t care. It’s salt. Whatever, right? But I like to walk around barefoot.
My feet sweat. Sue me.
Have you ever walked around on a floor covered in salt in your bare feet? It doesn’t feel like the beach, I tell you what! I can’t tell you how many times I needed to sweep up salt from the floor just to keep my sanity. After Cole staged an intervention, we both agreed that if the salt was, in fact, spilled, and Jax needed to break any curses that resulted therein, he would do so outside. I, in turn, was not allowed to touch the salt anymore... since I was the one that seemed to be spilling it all the time.
Luckily, we weren’t completely caged up in the cabin all winter going crazy. It’s not like New York, where the snow can come and completely overtake a town in just a few hours, forcing people to shelter in place for a day or two. No, North Carolina weather, at least closer to the ocean where we are, is nothing but damp, wet rain with only the very rare chance to see a light dusting stay on the ground for more than a day. With the temperature ranging between thirty-five and sixty degrees, it wasn’t too cold, but we definitely weren’t lounging about outside for days on end.
The days wewereoutside, however, were either for scouting trips, walking Sadie, hunting, scavenging or to trainwith Jax. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to practice shooting anymore since we had to conserve the ammunition but he did start to train me in grappling, which was fun. He’d work with me on the basics inside, but, when it wasn’t so damp, we’d take it outside so we had more space to maneuver.
Grappling, being naturally intimate and, at times, very close to dry humping, usually and inevitably turned into erotic wrestling. Before long, clothes started flying off and well, I’m sure you can guess how that always ended.
Jax originally suggested the training sessions when we tried to play a fun game ofHunt Aly Through the Woods.I ended up being wrestled down and sandwiched on the ground between two of my juggernauts, but that ended prematurely as we were interrupted by a voyeuristic zombie. Since then, there’s been no more outside play sessions and the grappling sessions that took place afterwards were accomplished by having two of the guys act as sentries, protecting us while we trained.
Surviving out here would be absolutely miserable and boring for someone who didn’t have another person to pass the days with. I should know, I did it on my own for months. But now? Now, I have three people to chase the boring away and my guys make sure I’m busy every day.
Don’t look at me like that. We played Scrabble too!
