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“Don’t y’all be an asshole like Zayn,” he warned. “There’s more where that one came from.”
The big man laughed.
He couldn’t help it.
This was how Marines bonded. It was this ass-busting that got them through some shit moments when they were deployed, and honestly, everyone here was free game.
To the Marines in this house, these people were family, and family got the shit end of the jackassery just like everyone else.
Maybe more.
Look at how they rode Dakota.
Hard.
Rough.
And daily.
Zayn wasn’t giving up.
“I gotta be me. Where’s your shirt?” he asked, lifting the back of his hoodie and seeing skin. “Did you forget to get all your clothes on?” he asked, grinning. “Or did you have to make a quick escape?”
He slapped his hands away.
“Do you want the intel, or do you want to play games?” he asked.
Oh, that was a bad choice for the chucklefucks. For them, there was only one answer.
“Games,” they all said together.
It made him laugh.
Why wasn’t he surprised?
Some people had no sense of keeping shit to themselves. That was this group right here.
Granted, he understood why. They were his biggest supporters, and had been rooting for him from the sidelines.
Remmy appreciated that.
Oh, not the busting, but them, in general.
“You are a bunch of idiots. I just want to go on the record with that.”
Tell them something they didn’t know.
“You don’t say,” Zayn said. “Unfortunately for you, it’s just the way we are, our well-sexed friend.”
He rolled his eyes.
Remmy knew that if he didn’t get them focused, they’d be asking questions that he was NOT answering.
Yes. He felt better.
Yes. He felt alive.
No. He was not discussing it with anyone.
