put his hands fully on her.
She felt something on her back, maybe something at her hip. But nothing grasping, nothing greedy. He only allowed his mouth to be greedy, which was almost good enough. The little half-beard he usually had rubbed against her skin, but not in the same rough way Jamie’s stubble had.
Softer, softer.
And he gave sounds away more freely—little gasps and sighs and hungry noises that flicked the switch in her brain from survival to desperately horny. Oh God, so horny. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t he known how much she wanted him? How could he not have known?
He felt so strong and warm and alive in her hands. They both had. They both did. And she would have told him so if the door above hadn’t banged, and he hadn’t jumped away from her, suddenly, in exactly the same way Jamie had.
Though she couldn’t really blame him for doing so. She did the same thing without even thinking about it. Maybe they hadn’t had the bro talk or decided who got to take her to the Prom or what the fuck, but it didn’t matter.
It kind of felt like cheating, anyway.
* * * *
It was one a piece. So that kind of evened it out, didn’t it? Each kiss cancelled the other one out. Now she was back down to zero. Zero kisses. Nothing inappropriate. No issues. Apart from the eight million thoughts and questions about what the hell they’d been assuming for the last month.
Yeah, apart from that.
They didn’t look any different when they sat down for game night. That’s what it had become. Game night. Eight hundred rounds of Scrabble or Monopoly or this weird one Jamie swore up and down was his favorite from childhood. It was kind of like chess, only with little red minions and a big red brain that you had to capture.
It was fun. And weird. And she had to question why they didn’t watch movies more often. The TV worked, after all. It only ever played fuzz or some kind of emergency striped screen, but they had a DVD player. And a bunch of mad films that only Jamie could have chosen.
Clue, Erik the Viking, Thelma and Louise.
But instead they always ended up around the coffee table, rolling dice or putting together words. She would have seen it as some sort of metaphor for the position they all found themselves in, if Jamie and Blake hadn’t spent all their time being peaceful and non-competitive.
Things were supposed to be more fraught than that, weren’t they? Things did not seem fraught. Not even when they touched her more and did things like wink at her—Jamie definitely winked over poker—and she was just left with a rising tension of a different kind.
When. When, when, when were they going to do it again? Was she the one who had to do it again? Get the ball rolling, make a pass, ask over breakfast— hey, do you think maybe you could both kiss me again? Possibly at the same time?
Even if that seemed crazy. It happened in her dreams, but it couldn’t really happen like that in reality. People just didn’t…well. They did. But not after six billion people had died.
Though then again a lot of people didn’t do a lot of things after six billion people had died.
“What you thinking about, June-bug?” Jamie asked, after raising her two hundred. They were playing with Monopoly money, but still. Two hundred—seriously? She was willing to bet he’d hit that flush draw.
“About how many spades you’ve got in your hand,” she said and he laughed. Just like that, he laughed. Everything was cool. It was fine.
“Funny, ‘cause I was just thinking about whether those two Jacks did you any favors.”
As it happened, they had. And so had the four that had come before them both. But she played it tight and called him. Nothing more.
“Nah, I’m guessing no three of a kind for you, June-y,” he said, because he wasn’t a good poker player. Neither was Blake, really. They both shoved it out there too fast and didn’t hang back when they scored a hand.
Blake called and dealt the river, and she could just
She felt something on her back, maybe something at her hip. But nothing grasping, nothing greedy. He only allowed his mouth to be greedy, which was almost good enough. The little half-beard he usually had rubbed against her skin, but not in the same rough way Jamie’s stubble had.
Softer, softer.
And he gave sounds away more freely—little gasps and sighs and hungry noises that flicked the switch in her brain from survival to desperately horny. Oh God, so horny. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t he known how much she wanted him? How could he not have known?
He felt so strong and warm and alive in her hands. They both had. They both did. And she would have told him so if the door above hadn’t banged, and he hadn’t jumped away from her, suddenly, in exactly the same way Jamie had.
Though she couldn’t really blame him for doing so. She did the same thing without even thinking about it. Maybe they hadn’t had the bro talk or decided who got to take her to the Prom or what the fuck, but it didn’t matter.
It kind of felt like cheating, anyway.
* * * *
It was one a piece. So that kind of evened it out, didn’t it? Each kiss cancelled the other one out. Now she was back down to zero. Zero kisses. Nothing inappropriate. No issues. Apart from the eight million thoughts and questions about what the hell they’d been assuming for the last month.
Yeah, apart from that.
They didn’t look any different when they sat down for game night. That’s what it had become. Game night. Eight hundred rounds of Scrabble or Monopoly or this weird one Jamie swore up and down was his favorite from childhood. It was kind of like chess, only with little red minions and a big red brain that you had to capture.
It was fun. And weird. And she had to question why they didn’t watch movies more often. The TV worked, after all. It only ever played fuzz or some kind of emergency striped screen, but they had a DVD player. And a bunch of mad films that only Jamie could have chosen.
Clue, Erik the Viking, Thelma and Louise.
But instead they always ended up around the coffee table, rolling dice or putting together words. She would have seen it as some sort of metaphor for the position they all found themselves in, if Jamie and Blake hadn’t spent all their time being peaceful and non-competitive.
Things were supposed to be more fraught than that, weren’t they? Things did not seem fraught. Not even when they touched her more and did things like wink at her—Jamie definitely winked over poker—and she was just left with a rising tension of a different kind.
When. When, when, when were they going to do it again? Was she the one who had to do it again? Get the ball rolling, make a pass, ask over breakfast— hey, do you think maybe you could both kiss me again? Possibly at the same time?
Even if that seemed crazy. It happened in her dreams, but it couldn’t really happen like that in reality. People just didn’t…well. They did. But not after six billion people had died.
Though then again a lot of people didn’t do a lot of things after six billion people had died.
“What you thinking about, June-bug?” Jamie asked, after raising her two hundred. They were playing with Monopoly money, but still. Two hundred—seriously? She was willing to bet he’d hit that flush draw.
“About how many spades you’ve got in your hand,” she said and he laughed. Just like that, he laughed. Everything was cool. It was fine.
“Funny, ‘cause I was just thinking about whether those two Jacks did you any favors.”
As it happened, they had. And so had the four that had come before them both. But she played it tight and called him. Nothing more.
“Nah, I’m guessing no three of a kind for you, June-y,” he said, because he wasn’t a good poker player. Neither was Blake, really. They both shoved it out there too fast and didn’t hang back when they scored a hand.
Blake called and dealt the river, and she could just
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