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brbsoulnomming) wrote2012-05-26 03:25 am
brbsoulnomming) wrote2012-05-26 03:25 am
Entry tags:
Wake Up Call
Title: Wake Up Call
Author: brbsoulnomming
Rating: Explicit, NC-17
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Wordcount: 5,279
Summary: For a prompt on grimm_kink for a sleepy sex fantasy: Monroe fantasizes about being woken up with Nick inside him, making love to him. Of course, Nick finds out about it and obliges. (Warning for consensual somnophilia)
Nick used to wake him with a kiss before he went into work. Monroe was always up by 6:30 in the morning to do his Pilates, but there were days when Nick would be already out of the house by then. Those were the days when Monroe was pulled into wakeful-ness by the press of Nick’s lips against his, by Nick murmuring, “Be home early,” or “Be home late,” and always, “Love you.”
Nick still kisses him when he has to leave early, Monroe can tell by the faint hint of fresher saliva on his lips when his alarm goes off, but Monroe doesn’t wake up for them anymore. He’s too used to the scent of Nick surrounding him as he sleeps, to Nick’s touch in the middle of the night, it’s too familiar for it to jerk him out of his sleep.
He doesn’t tell Nick that he misses it.
-
It’s Nick’s day off, so Monroe’s expecting to wake up to Nick wrapped around him, curled into him like he’s trying his best to see if it’s possible for them to occupy the same space at the same time.
He’s not expecting to wake up to soft, gentle kisses to his shoulder, his neck, the side of his jaw, his mouth. Monroe shifts, blinking bleary eyes at Nick, who’s wide awake and smiling fondly at him, sprawled over Monroe’s chest.
“Good way to wake up,” Monroe mutters.
“Best way to wake up,” Nick replies, hand stroking down Monroe’s side.
Monroe makes a vague noise of disagreement. “Better would be you inside me.”
Nick’s hand stops mid-stroke. Monroe has a moment of irrational – no, entirely rational, that’s not the kind of thing you should just blurt out like that – panic, and he’s thinking up ways to take that back, make it a joke, when Nick picks up his stroking again.
“Really?” Nick asks. “That’d… be something you’re interested in?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Monroe says noncommittally, suddenly grateful that Nick isn’t a Blutbad, and can’t hear the way his heart rate has picked up speed.
“I’m not going to laugh at you, or anything,” Nick tells him softly, eyes earnest and gaze locked on Monroe’s. “If there’s something you want to do, you can tell me. Whatever it is, anything. I can’t promise I’ll always go for it, but I’ll always listen, and I’ll never judge.”
Monroe snorts. “You are the worst Grimm ever.”
One corner of Nick’s mouth lifts up in a slight smile. “So you tell me. Often.” Then he just lays there, waiting, one eyebrow raised.
Monroe sighs. “It’s something I’ve thought about,” he admits. “It’s – yeah. It’s something I’d be interested in.”
Nick tilts his head, like he’s considering that, and Monroe wraps his hand around the back of Nick’s neck, rests his thumb over the mark on Nick’s neck that Monroe’d nipped and sucked there last night.
“Okay,” Nick says after a moment.
“Okay?” Monroe asks.
“If you’re interested, so am I,” Nick tells him, then kisses him, and that’s the end of that discussion.
-
A series of cases catches Nick’s attention after that, two human and one Wesen related. Monroe helps on the Wesen case, but he can offer nothing for the human ones.
Nick comes home late one night after a week on the third one, strips, crawls into bed, and murmurs, “We got him.”
“Brave detective saves the day,” Monroe replies, tugging Nick in, pressing him against his side.
“Stops a killer, at least,” Nick says, but his voice doesn’t have the slightly broken quality it does when he hasn’t managed to save everyone he could have, so Monroe just strokes a hand over Nick’s back, presses a kiss to his forehead, ready to sooth him to sleep.
Nick has other ideas, though, and bites at Monroe’s pulse point as his hand slides under the covers, closes around Monroe’s soft cock, gives it a few strokes, and it starts to harden almost embarrassingly quickly.
“You look exhausted,” Monroe protests, but it’s half-hearted at best.
“Never too exhausted for you,” Nick replies.
That’s a blatant lie, there’s plenty of times that Nick’s come home completely wiped out and just passed out in bed, without even getting undressed. But Nick’s kissing him, hand still stroking him, and Nick’s own erection is pressing against Monroe’s thigh, so Monroe doesn’t call him out on such untruths. Instead he breaks the kiss to bite at Nick’s neck, licking over the indents left by his teeth.
Nick tosses off the covers, and slides down to take Monroe into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head of his cock and then licking over the shaft. He presses a kiss to Monroe’s balls, then reaches over to grab the tube of lube on their nightstand, coating his fingers with it.
For all his exhaustion, Nick seems content to take his time, working Monroe open for what feels like hours, fingers nudging at his prostate at every opportunity and occasionally kissing and licking at Monroe’s cock.
“Nick,” Monroe grits out. “If you don’t – I’m gonna –”
“Do it,” Nick says, eyes dark blue with lust, and the scent of Nick’s arousal sharpens.
Nick brushes against his prostate again, and Monroe comes, hips jolting up, a few white drops splattering against Nick’s lips and chin.
Apparently the sight of Monroe coming just from Nick’s fingers in his ass and a few licks to his cock turns Nick on so much that he barely gets a hand around his dick before he’s coming as well, and that’s a thought that makes Monroe’s cock twitch slightly in interest, despite his all too recent release.
Monroe could definitely be ready for a second round, but he hadn’t been exaggerating Nick’s exhaustion. Monroe gets them cleaned up, and then settles Nick next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.
“Go to sleep,” Monroe says, pressing a kiss against Nick’s temple.
Nick’s already mostly there, Monroe can tell, but he manages to nuzzle into Monroe’s neck and murmur something indecipherable before he drifts off completely.
-
Monroe’s dreaming. It’s one of those dreams that he’s vaguely aware is a dream, in some distant, far off sense, but the dream is a nice one, so he doesn’t care. He’s in the forest again, tracking Nick, chasing him – Nick never uses enough wolfsbane, not for Monroe, but that’s because Nick’s scent is so familiar to Monroe that he’s not sure even a bath of it would be able to completely hide Nick from him.
When Monroe catches up to him, he knows exactly how this is going to play out, and the thrill of the chase overwhelms him – but not completely, never completely, not with Nick – and he jumps, tackling Nick to the ground.
They wrestle, rolling around in the dirt, getting leaves and twigs in their hair, mud on their clothes. They don’t care, they never do. Monroe pins Nick briefly, but Nick tangles their legs, twists and rolls them, and then Nick’s on top of him, grinning down at him.
Monroe’s breathing heavily, they both are, but they still have enough breath for a kiss, and Monroe leans up to capture Nick’s lips, biting at the corner of his mouth. Nick responds in kind, teeth scraping over Monroe’s tongue, and Monroe wraps his legs around Nick’s waist, grinding into him.
Nick laughs, breathlessly, and kisses him again, long and deep, then moves down his neck, fingers digging into the fabric of Monroe’s coat. Monroe slides his hands down Nick’s back, pushing up Nick’s jacket, button up, undershirt – why the hell does he have to wear so many damn layers – to get his palms against bare skin, to tuck his thumbs under the waistband of Nick’s jeans.
And suddenly Monroe realizes that the scent of Nick’s arousal, the scent of his own arousal, is real, far too real to be just a dream, and that pulls him out of it completely.
Nick’s on top of him, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to his chest, and Monroe has his legs wrapped around Nick’s waist, and for a moment, Monroe wonders if he’s still dreaming. But there’s soft fabric beneath his back, not the rough forest floor. Neither of them are dressed, and Nick – oh, fuck, Nick is buried inside him, moving gently, languidly, pulling out a slow, bare inch and pushing back in equally unhurriedly, and Monroe is pretty sure he’s harder than he’s ever been before.
Monroe lets out a ragged groan, and Nick looks up, smirking at him when he realizes Monroe’s awake.
“Okay?” Nick asks, the almost tentative quality of his tone a contrast to the smug expression on his face.
“Shit, yes,” Monroe says, wrapping his legs tighter around Nick’s waist.
Nick pulls out, a little more this time, and thrusts back in, his hips rolling smoothly, still keeping his unrushed pace. “Thought I’d ruined it when you wrapped your legs around me. All that work last night, and I thought I’d woken you up before I started.”
“I was dreaming,” Monroe says, before he can think better of it.
“Dream about me often?” Nick asks, smirk widening.
“Who says it was about you?” Monroe retorts, but the way his hips are jerking helplessly pretty much makes the implications of that question useless.
Nick treats it like it’s serious, though, like there’s even a fraction of a chance that Monroe was dreaming about anyone other than Nick when Nick was prepping Monroe while he slept - Goddamn, that was not a thought Monroe needed to have, not if he doesn’t want to come right now – and Nick presses his thumb against his own bite mark on Monroe’s neck.
“Better not have been anyone else but me,” Nick murmurs, giving another slow thrust and mouthing along Monroe’s chest.
“Possessive,” Monroe replies, and knows there’s a note of approval in his voice.
“Learned it from you,” Nick replies, sliding his hands up Monroe’s arms and then tangling their fingers together. “Didn’t think I’d like it this much, you know. But looking at you spread out like that, wanting me even in your sleep, watching you react unconsciously, out of control-”
Monroe cuts him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, because it’s either that or let the low, needy whine that’d been building in his chest escape, either that or come right then from the picture Nick’s painting. He nips at Nick’s lower lip when he breaks the kiss, dragging his teeth across it as he pulls away.
“Think you can come like this?” Nick asks, out of breath and sounding dazed.
“Sometimes I could come just from you looking at me, man,” Monroe replies, honesty driven by a haze of lust and the fact that he’s still not quite awake, pulled from sleep too recently and given no time for his higher brain functions to kick in before all of his blood was directed south.
“Me too,” Nick says, sounding raw and vulnerable, at odds with the slow confidence in the movement of his hips. “Sometimes when your eyes go all red, I-” He doesn’t finish, instead burying his face against Monroe’s neck, teeth pressed gently against the already prominent bite mark.
Monroe loves him, then, so much, loves getting to see both sides of Nick, loves that Nick would do this, for him, hell, even loves that Nick actually likes his Blutbad traits, instead of being afraid of or disgusted by them. He tightens his grip on Nick’s hands, squeezes his fingers.
“I’m awake, Nick, you can pick up the pace a little,” Monroe says.
“I know,” Nick replies, voice muffled against Monroe’s neck. “I just thought I’d take it slow. Make it last.”
“Yeah, well, there’s slow, and there’s torture, so get your ass moving.” Monroe follows this with a particularly strong jerk of his hips, thrusting up to meet Nick.
Nick’s breath catches, and he smiles, Monroe can feel the pull of it against the skin of his neck. Nick pushes himself up, fingers still threaded through Monroe’s, making Monroe’s hands sink into the mattress a little. Then he starts moving, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, picking up the pace quickly.
Monroe matches it, keeping his legs wrapped tightly around Nick as he rocks up to meet him, head falling back against the pillow and practically seeing sparks every time Nick grazes his prostate.
“Love you,” Nick mumbles, getting the words out between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Much.”
Nick pulls one of his hands away from Monroe’s, gets it between them to wrap around Monroe’s cock. Monroe’s hips jerk out of sync at the contact, and he doesn’t quite manage to pick back up the rhythm as Nick starts stroking him, firm and quick, palming over the head to gather enough pre-come to make the strokes slick.
Monroe comes when Nick thrusts against his prostate at the same time as he makes a quick, upward stroke along his cock, the world narrowing to the feel of Nick’s hand on his dick, to Nick’s thrusts staggering and slowing as his own orgasm hits, to their scents mingling together as pleasure wracks Monroe’s body.
He’s breathing heavily when he comes down, muscles lax in the afterglow. Monroe waits until Nick pulls out, until he’s grabbed a towel from the side of the bed and cleaned them up, and then he tugs Nick back in.
“Love you, too,” Monroe murmurs.
Nick settles against him, one arm sprawled over his waist, the other tracing meaningless patterns over his chest. Monroe slides his arms around him, one hand settling at the dip in Nick’s spine, the other between his shoulder blades.
“You made a fatal mistake, Grimm,” Monroe tells him, a distinct rumble in his voice. “Now I’m going to expect to be woken up like this every day.”
Nick smiles at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Author: brbsoulnomming
Rating: Explicit, NC-17
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Wordcount: 5,279
Summary: For a prompt on grimm_kink for a sleepy sex fantasy: Monroe fantasizes about being woken up with Nick inside him, making love to him. Of course, Nick finds out about it and obliges. (Warning for consensual somnophilia)
Nick used to wake him with a kiss before he went into work. Monroe was always up by 6:30 in the morning to do his Pilates, but there were days when Nick would be already out of the house by then. Those were the days when Monroe was pulled into wakeful-ness by the press of Nick’s lips against his, by Nick murmuring, “Be home early,” or “Be home late,” and always, “Love you.”
Nick still kisses him when he has to leave early, Monroe can tell by the faint hint of fresher saliva on his lips when his alarm goes off, but Monroe doesn’t wake up for them anymore. He’s too used to the scent of Nick surrounding him as he sleeps, to Nick’s touch in the middle of the night, it’s too familiar for it to jerk him out of his sleep.
He doesn’t tell Nick that he misses it.
-
It’s Nick’s day off, so Monroe’s expecting to wake up to Nick wrapped around him, curled into him like he’s trying his best to see if it’s possible for them to occupy the same space at the same time.
He’s not expecting to wake up to soft, gentle kisses to his shoulder, his neck, the side of his jaw, his mouth. Monroe shifts, blinking bleary eyes at Nick, who’s wide awake and smiling fondly at him, sprawled over Monroe’s chest.
“Good way to wake up,” Monroe mutters.
“Best way to wake up,” Nick replies, hand stroking down Monroe’s side.
Monroe makes a vague noise of disagreement. “Better would be you inside me.”
Nick’s hand stops mid-stroke. Monroe has a moment of irrational – no, entirely rational, that’s not the kind of thing you should just blurt out like that – panic, and he’s thinking up ways to take that back, make it a joke, when Nick picks up his stroking again.
“Really?” Nick asks. “That’d… be something you’re interested in?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Monroe says noncommittally, suddenly grateful that Nick isn’t a Blutbad, and can’t hear the way his heart rate has picked up speed.
“I’m not going to laugh at you, or anything,” Nick tells him softly, eyes earnest and gaze locked on Monroe’s. “If there’s something you want to do, you can tell me. Whatever it is, anything. I can’t promise I’ll always go for it, but I’ll always listen, and I’ll never judge.”
Monroe snorts. “You are the worst Grimm ever.”
One corner of Nick’s mouth lifts up in a slight smile. “So you tell me. Often.” Then he just lays there, waiting, one eyebrow raised.
Monroe sighs. “It’s something I’ve thought about,” he admits. “It’s – yeah. It’s something I’d be interested in.”
Nick tilts his head, like he’s considering that, and Monroe wraps his hand around the back of Nick’s neck, rests his thumb over the mark on Nick’s neck that Monroe’d nipped and sucked there last night.
“Okay,” Nick says after a moment.
“Okay?” Monroe asks.
“If you’re interested, so am I,” Nick tells him, then kisses him, and that’s the end of that discussion.
-
A series of cases catches Nick’s attention after that, two human and one Wesen related. Monroe helps on the Wesen case, but he can offer nothing for the human ones.
Nick comes home late one night after a week on the third one, strips, crawls into bed, and murmurs, “We got him.”
“Brave detective saves the day,” Monroe replies, tugging Nick in, pressing him against his side.
“Stops a killer, at least,” Nick says, but his voice doesn’t have the slightly broken quality it does when he hasn’t managed to save everyone he could have, so Monroe just strokes a hand over Nick’s back, presses a kiss to his forehead, ready to sooth him to sleep.
Nick has other ideas, though, and bites at Monroe’s pulse point as his hand slides under the covers, closes around Monroe’s soft cock, gives it a few strokes, and it starts to harden almost embarrassingly quickly.
“You look exhausted,” Monroe protests, but it’s half-hearted at best.
“Never too exhausted for you,” Nick replies.
That’s a blatant lie, there’s plenty of times that Nick’s come home completely wiped out and just passed out in bed, without even getting undressed. But Nick’s kissing him, hand still stroking him, and Nick’s own erection is pressing against Monroe’s thigh, so Monroe doesn’t call him out on such untruths. Instead he breaks the kiss to bite at Nick’s neck, licking over the indents left by his teeth.
Nick tosses off the covers, and slides down to take Monroe into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head of his cock and then licking over the shaft. He presses a kiss to Monroe’s balls, then reaches over to grab the tube of lube on their nightstand, coating his fingers with it.
For all his exhaustion, Nick seems content to take his time, working Monroe open for what feels like hours, fingers nudging at his prostate at every opportunity and occasionally kissing and licking at Monroe’s cock.
“Nick,” Monroe grits out. “If you don’t – I’m gonna –”
“Do it,” Nick says, eyes dark blue with lust, and the scent of Nick’s arousal sharpens.
Nick brushes against his prostate again, and Monroe comes, hips jolting up, a few white drops splattering against Nick’s lips and chin.
Apparently the sight of Monroe coming just from Nick’s fingers in his ass and a few licks to his cock turns Nick on so much that he barely gets a hand around his dick before he’s coming as well, and that’s a thought that makes Monroe’s cock twitch slightly in interest, despite his all too recent release.
Monroe could definitely be ready for a second round, but he hadn’t been exaggerating Nick’s exhaustion. Monroe gets them cleaned up, and then settles Nick next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.
“Go to sleep,” Monroe says, pressing a kiss against Nick’s temple.
Nick’s already mostly there, Monroe can tell, but he manages to nuzzle into Monroe’s neck and murmur something indecipherable before he drifts off completely.
-
Monroe’s dreaming. It’s one of those dreams that he’s vaguely aware is a dream, in some distant, far off sense, but the dream is a nice one, so he doesn’t care. He’s in the forest again, tracking Nick, chasing him – Nick never uses enough wolfsbane, not for Monroe, but that’s because Nick’s scent is so familiar to Monroe that he’s not sure even a bath of it would be able to completely hide Nick from him.
When Monroe catches up to him, he knows exactly how this is going to play out, and the thrill of the chase overwhelms him – but not completely, never completely, not with Nick – and he jumps, tackling Nick to the ground.
They wrestle, rolling around in the dirt, getting leaves and twigs in their hair, mud on their clothes. They don’t care, they never do. Monroe pins Nick briefly, but Nick tangles their legs, twists and rolls them, and then Nick’s on top of him, grinning down at him.
Monroe’s breathing heavily, they both are, but they still have enough breath for a kiss, and Monroe leans up to capture Nick’s lips, biting at the corner of his mouth. Nick responds in kind, teeth scraping over Monroe’s tongue, and Monroe wraps his legs around Nick’s waist, grinding into him.
Nick laughs, breathlessly, and kisses him again, long and deep, then moves down his neck, fingers digging into the fabric of Monroe’s coat. Monroe slides his hands down Nick’s back, pushing up Nick’s jacket, button up, undershirt – why the hell does he have to wear so many damn layers – to get his palms against bare skin, to tuck his thumbs under the waistband of Nick’s jeans.
And suddenly Monroe realizes that the scent of Nick’s arousal, the scent of his own arousal, is real, far too real to be just a dream, and that pulls him out of it completely.
Nick’s on top of him, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to his chest, and Monroe has his legs wrapped around Nick’s waist, and for a moment, Monroe wonders if he’s still dreaming. But there’s soft fabric beneath his back, not the rough forest floor. Neither of them are dressed, and Nick – oh, fuck, Nick is buried inside him, moving gently, languidly, pulling out a slow, bare inch and pushing back in equally unhurriedly, and Monroe is pretty sure he’s harder than he’s ever been before.
Monroe lets out a ragged groan, and Nick looks up, smirking at him when he realizes Monroe’s awake.
“Okay?” Nick asks, the almost tentative quality of his tone a contrast to the smug expression on his face.
“Shit, yes,” Monroe says, wrapping his legs tighter around Nick’s waist.
Nick pulls out, a little more this time, and thrusts back in, his hips rolling smoothly, still keeping his unrushed pace. “Thought I’d ruined it when you wrapped your legs around me. All that work last night, and I thought I’d woken you up before I started.”
“I was dreaming,” Monroe says, before he can think better of it.
“Dream about me often?” Nick asks, smirk widening.
“Who says it was about you?” Monroe retorts, but the way his hips are jerking helplessly pretty much makes the implications of that question useless.
Nick treats it like it’s serious, though, like there’s even a fraction of a chance that Monroe was dreaming about anyone other than Nick when Nick was prepping Monroe while he slept - Goddamn, that was not a thought Monroe needed to have, not if he doesn’t want to come right now – and Nick presses his thumb against his own bite mark on Monroe’s neck.
“Better not have been anyone else but me,” Nick murmurs, giving another slow thrust and mouthing along Monroe’s chest.
“Possessive,” Monroe replies, and knows there’s a note of approval in his voice.
“Learned it from you,” Nick replies, sliding his hands up Monroe’s arms and then tangling their fingers together. “Didn’t think I’d like it this much, you know. But looking at you spread out like that, wanting me even in your sleep, watching you react unconsciously, out of control-”
Monroe cuts him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, because it’s either that or let the low, needy whine that’d been building in his chest escape, either that or come right then from the picture Nick’s painting. He nips at Nick’s lower lip when he breaks the kiss, dragging his teeth across it as he pulls away.
“Think you can come like this?” Nick asks, out of breath and sounding dazed.
“Sometimes I could come just from you looking at me, man,” Monroe replies, honesty driven by a haze of lust and the fact that he’s still not quite awake, pulled from sleep too recently and given no time for his higher brain functions to kick in before all of his blood was directed south.
“Me too,” Nick says, sounding raw and vulnerable, at odds with the slow confidence in the movement of his hips. “Sometimes when your eyes go all red, I-” He doesn’t finish, instead burying his face against Monroe’s neck, teeth pressed gently against the already prominent bite mark.
Monroe loves him, then, so much, loves getting to see both sides of Nick, loves that Nick would do this, for him, hell, even loves that Nick actually likes his Blutbad traits, instead of being afraid of or disgusted by them. He tightens his grip on Nick’s hands, squeezes his fingers.
“I’m awake, Nick, you can pick up the pace a little,” Monroe says.
“I know,” Nick replies, voice muffled against Monroe’s neck. “I just thought I’d take it slow. Make it last.”
“Yeah, well, there’s slow, and there’s torture, so get your ass moving.” Monroe follows this with a particularly strong jerk of his hips, thrusting up to meet Nick.
Nick’s breath catches, and he smiles, Monroe can feel the pull of it against the skin of his neck. Nick pushes himself up, fingers still threaded through Monroe’s, making Monroe’s hands sink into the mattress a little. Then he starts moving, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, picking up the pace quickly.
Monroe matches it, keeping his legs wrapped tightly around Nick as he rocks up to meet him, head falling back against the pillow and practically seeing sparks every time Nick grazes his prostate.
“Love you,” Nick mumbles, getting the words out between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Much.”
Nick pulls one of his hands away from Monroe’s, gets it between them to wrap around Monroe’s cock. Monroe’s hips jerk out of sync at the contact, and he doesn’t quite manage to pick back up the rhythm as Nick starts stroking him, firm and quick, palming over the head to gather enough pre-come to make the strokes slick.
Monroe comes when Nick thrusts against his prostate at the same time as he makes a quick, upward stroke along his cock, the world narrowing to the feel of Nick’s hand on his dick, to Nick’s thrusts staggering and slowing as his own orgasm hits, to their scents mingling together as pleasure wracks Monroe’s body.
He’s breathing heavily when he comes down, muscles lax in the afterglow. Monroe waits until Nick pulls out, until he’s grabbed a towel from the side of the bed and cleaned them up, and then he tugs Nick back in.
“Love you, too,” Monroe murmurs.
Nick settles against him, one arm sprawled over his waist, the other tracing meaningless patterns over his chest. Monroe slides his arms around him, one hand settling at the dip in Nick’s spine, the other between his shoulder blades.
“You made a fatal mistake, Grimm,” Monroe tells him, a distinct rumble in his voice. “Now I’m going to expect to be woken up like this every day.”
Nick smiles at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see what I can do.”