#saying it again for emphasis: i need to be SANDWICHED between these men pls and thank you

[deepspacenova]

UNDER PRESSURE

1700 words | banter. tension. jealousy. possessive Sylus.

Prompt: running into your main lads man (boyfriend) while you're out with your second favorite lads man (as a friend) and how they would react.

Note: Written for this round robin/challenge by the lovely @jinwoosbabyboo -- it's open for anyone, by the way, so consider yourself tagged if you're interested! (:

The smell of antiseptic mingled with the earthy scent of Vagrant's Land while the pop-up clinic buzzed with organized chaos. Patients with various illnesses and injuries stood around waiting for the moment they'd be called back and have their ailments treated or cured.

The welcome tent’s fabric flapped in the soft breeze as you let the nurse manning the check-ins know why you were there. When you were shown inside, you noticed the open space had been outfitted with portable medical equipment to create a busy hive of treatment cubicles and testing areas.

You glanced around the crowded space until you found him. Taller than most of the room, intent on his work, and confidently in his element, Dr. Zayne scribbled onto the clipboard a nurse was holding toward him. Finishing his last marking, he looked up, cool hazel eyes thawing ever-so-slightly and dented with a happy crinkle as he straightened and dismissed your escort.

"Right on time," he murmured, grabbing two latex gloves, a yellow file folder, and his medical bag.

"Miracles can happen when you least expect them," you teased with a grin.

Zayne started to usher you toward a makeshift examination corner since all the cubicle curtains were closed. "Medical miracles, maybe," he quipped. "But you being on time? That’s a phenomenon even science can’t explain."

You laughed softly, sitting down as he gestured to a folding chair and rested his medical bag on the wobbly table next to him. "Careful, Dr. Zayne, your bedside manner is slipping."

With an amused shake of his head, he reassured, "This shouldn't take long. Just a quick exam, same as always."

You nodded, rolling up your sleeve as he pressed his cool fingers to the inside of your wrist and got started. His touch was warm but impersonal, his attention fixed on his readings. He moved methodically, pressing the tips of his fingers over your heart and chest.

Though the process was clinical, you couldn't help but study Zayne with fondness — the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his nostrils flared when a loud noise interrupted him, the way his breath became a tickle on your cheek when he leaned in to adjust his stethoscope.

That was the moment you heard his voice.

“Don't tell me you're afraid now,” Sylus demanded from the clinic's entrance, making nurses and bystanders alike stand to attention, as if they couldn't help but wait for his next directive. “I could put you two into far worse situations.”

Two hooded boys in medical masks shuffled in behind him, the defiant puff of their chests doing little to hide their apprehension. At Sylus' words Luke scowled but didn’t argue while Kieran kept glancing toward the exit like a cornered animal. Giving them a pointed look toward the nurse they were supposed to follow, he took a few steps forward before his eyes landed on you.

The vision of the leader of Onychinus halting in place with a satisfied smirk spreading across his face was unnerving enough to straighten every spine in the vicinity. But he barely noticed as he waved off the boys and made his way toward you.

Then his eyes flicked to the person next to you. To the stern yet striking man whose face was so close to yours he was practically stealing your fucking air from you.

Jaw tightening — the only outward sign of his discomfiture—Sylus strode toward you with deliberate, measured steps, his posture casual but predatory.

A fluttering of wings had taken flight in your stomach as soon as you'd heard Sylus' gravelly voice, but for the sake of Zayne's time and not raising any eyebrows in the semi-public setting, you'd resolved to find Sylus after your check-up. Unfortunately for you, Sylus never much cared about the concept of discretion when it came to you.

Stopping behind you, he placed the edge of his palm on your shoulders, spreading his fingers across your chest in a rather over-the-top display of possessiveness.

Doctor Zayne hadn't even looked up at the interruption and had moved on to digging for a tool in his medical bag when the hand-shaped barrier blocked his access to your heart.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?" Though the words were casual, his tone was wrapped in barbed wire.

"Sylus!" You said, hoping the breathlessness in your voice wasn't too noticeable. Looking up at his sharp features, which managed to be frustratingly beautiful even upside down, you smiled and moved his hands from your chest to your biceps, patting the tops of them twice. "I didn't know this is what you meant when you said you were taking care of some business with Luke and Kieran. Shouldn't you be with them?"

A low chuckle emerged from his throat, laced with both amusement and menace. "I was, sweetie. That is, until someone else piqued my... curiosity." His hands slid slowly down to the crooks of your elbows and then disappeared. Suddenly, the chair next to you was occupied with your boyfriend's imposing form, eyes boring into Zayne's unflappable figure. "I didn't realize doctors from Linkon City made special appointments when they visited Vagrant's Land."

“I volunteer here once a month,” Zayne said matter-of-factly. He didn’t look up as he re-focused on his examination of you, ignoring Sylus' eyes — one, a muted scarlet, the other an angry vermillion — trained on every movement. “It’s a good way to reach those who can’t make it to a hospital.”

Sylus’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a tight smile. “How noble of you. I see you're very—” His eyes lingered on Zayne’s hand, still resting against your chest. “—thorough with your patients.”

"Sylus," you cut in quickly. "Have you met my childhood friend, Zayne? We recently reconnected when he became my doctor."

But Sylus' attention didn't move from Zayne.

“Any good doctor is thorough,” Zayne replied, turning to jot down notes into your file. His voice was calm, almost bored, as if Sylus’s presence barely registered. “If something's off, it's important to work on her as soon as possible."

“I’ll bet it is,” Sylus muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

Recognizing the simmering menace in his tone, you jam your elbow into Sylus' narrowing your eyes in a silent warning. Your string of bad luck continued however, when, after he placed a dramatic hand over his elbow, Sylus went back to watching your childhood friend with the kind of intensity that made most people fear for their lives.

Zayne, of course, was not most people.

“Do you mind?” Zayne asked, flicking a quick glance at Sylus through his lashes. “I’m trying to work.”

“Not at all,” Sylus replied smoothly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Another tense few minutes pass, and the balloon of pressure in your chest expanded second by second as the tension between Sylus and Zayne crackled like static.

You were caught between irritation with Sylus for his uncharacteristically territorial behavior or shock with Zayne, who was acting more aloof than usual, almost like he was... purposefully fueling Sylus' ire.

“So, Sylus,” you said brightly, trying again to diffuse the situation. “Why'd you bring Luke and Kieran here?”

“Do they seem like the guys who'd show up to update their vaccines if I didn't drag them myself?” he shot back with a smirk, jerking his head toward the cubicle Luke and Kieran were in.

“That’s admirable,” Zayne remarked, his tone neutral. “More people should take an interest in the well-being of others.”

“That's me, a real caretaker," Sylus drawled, eyes narrowed. And just like that, any hope for the peace you'd been building toward popped like a bubble. "Though I can't say I'm as hands-on as you, doctor. At least... not in public."

"A shame." Zayne raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused. “Hands-on can be very effective when done correctly.”

The implication hung in the air, subtle but deliberate. You groaned internally, feeling like a rope in an increasingly taut tug-of-war.

“Alright, enough,” you snapped, looking down at them with your hands on your hips. “Sylus, this is just a check-up. Zayne, stop provoking.”

Both men fell silent, though the charged atmosphere lingered.

Sylus had the nerve to look almost... chagrined for the first time in his life, which alone worked wonders on your frustration — though from the way he stood and rested his hand on the back of your neck, it might've been more placating than chagrined.

Zayne, who also stood up, simply adjusted his glasses, his composure as unshaken as ever.

“I’m done here,” Zayne said, handing you a slip of paper. “I've updated the schedule according to your upcoming work trips. Other than that, you're fine.”

“Thank you, Zayne,” you smile warmly, stuffing the paper into your bag.

Zayne nodded, then turned to Sylus and held out his hand in a begrudging truce. “She’s in good health. You can relax.”

For a moment, you stared at Sylus' stoic expression and worried all hell would break loose in Vagrant's Land. Then, he linked his hand with Zayne's and gave it a firm, business-like shake, turned you around, and led you back to the entrance to wait for Luke and Kieran.

You couldn’t help but glance back at Zayne as you walked. He'd already moved onto his next patient, but caught your eye when you look around. And you could've sworn that Zayne, Doctor Zayne, your childhood friend, winked at you.

Once you were far enough to feel the afternoon breeze sweep over you, Sylus' gaze softened as he searched your face. “You feeling alright?” he asked, looking at the place where her aether core rested. His voice was quieter now, the edges of his tone no longer sounding so ruffled.

“I don't know. How should I feel after I've been pissed on by my boyfriend at my doctor's appointment?” Though you try to sound angry, it comes out as nothing but pure amusement.

At your smile, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and the corner of his lips curved. "Pissed on? I'd never do something so crass, kitten." He leaned down, his breath gliding over the crook of your neck like a feather, and rasped, "You know I'm more of a biter."

[outranks]

i hope this isnt a weird request but like..... could you write f!dep/sharky/john threesome pls? Cult or non cult au, your choice.

NONNY LISTEN, THIS REQUEST CHANGED MY DAMN LIFE. I never even thought about John/f!dep/Sharky before and now?? I talk about it all the time. so, thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I hope this is what you wanted???

There are a lot of benefits to John’s ridiculous oversized bed, made to fit at least two grown men and their smaller girlfriend with room to spare. It means that Rook can stretch out at night, practically spread eagle without touching anyone. And it means Sharky can twist and turn, nearly rotating halfway to the other end of the bed, without waking anyone up. And it means that John can get a full night’s sleep without getting kicked or squeezed by either of his chosen bed mates.

Or at least it should mean that.

More often than not Rook ends up draped over John, trying to leach the warmth from him as he is the worst blanket hog. And Sharky will have somehow ended up with his head at the other end of the bed and his foot somewhere near John’s throat. It’s always an accident, and Rook is trying to get better, but she hasn’t slept as well in years and sometimes maybe it’s important to leave well enough alone.

Except how there are times, though few and far between, that she’ll wake up to find someone missing.

Usually John.

Rook yawns and stretches, trying to pull herself out of sleep enough to crawl out of bed. “Where’s John?” she murmurs, poking Sharky in the side. “What’d you do with him.”

Sharky grunts, dragging the corner of a blanket over his head. Absolutely useless at this hour. The weather has been growing colder and John’s house is frustratingly difficult to heat and Rook knows the floor outside of the bedroom will be cold. She really doesn’t want to step on it.

Reluctantly, she does so anyway.

Rook grabs her pajama bottoms from where they were tossed on the floor earlier, and pulls Sharky’s hoodie from the chair it’s draped over. It’s not that she minds walking around the house naked, but there are always guards wandering the property and with Sharky around they’ve already seen enough. He has a habit of stepping out onto the balcony without a stitch of clothing on because the sunlight feels good on my junk, Rook.

Eventually John is going to stop finding him so endearing and start siding with her on the matter.

“John?” she calls softly, not wanting to wake up Sharky even though he absolutely deserves it. The floor in the hallway is as cold on her feet as she thought it would be, and sometimes being right just isn’t worth it. She checks the other bedrooms first, feeling a little guilty for poking her head into Joseph’s room when he’s not even there, before heading downstairs.

There’s a soft glow coming from the living room and the crackle of a fire in the fireplace. Meaning that’s where John is. From the moment the weather started to turn toward winter he’s been finding every way he can to make himself, and the house, warmer. It’s not even that cold yet, but if John wants to start a fire Rook can’t stop him.

She’s tried.

But with Sharky on John’s side it’s two against one. At least the Peggies have started practicing fire safety drills since Sharky became a regular presence at the ranch. So Rook will at least give them credit for that. The Peggies take John’s safety very seriously.

“John?” Rook steps into the living room, spotting John stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head. There’s a book on the floor beside him, and she would think he’s asleep except for how he turns to look at her as she gets closer. “What are you doing down here?”

John sighs, long and weary, though Rook suspects he’s only being dramatic for emphasis. “The people I have chosen to share my bed with were, apparently, both raised in a barn,” he says without a hint of true venom. “Sharky kicked me in the shoulder— I can’t even say how he got that turned around— and you cling so hard I thought you might strangle me.”

“You steal all the blankets and I was cold.”

“I— they’re my blankets.”

Rook hums, not willing to argue that specific point when she’s still partially asleep and John looks so comfortable. Instead she considers the best way to drape herself over him without hitting any sensitive spots. She ends up wedging her knee between John’s hip and the back of the sofa, and bracing herself on his thighs. “I guess we’ll just have to sleep out here,” she says.

John only gives the faintest protest as Rook makes herself comfortable on top of him. “The two of you are so—” he shifts until he can get an arm around her waist, fingertips just brushing the exposed skin of her side where the hoodie has ridden up.

“Charming?” Rook offers, “Delightful?”

“Frustrating.”

“Yeah, but you like us anyway.”

Rook can’t really see John’s face from the position she’s in, but she knows him well enough to guess at the soft, pleased little smile he’ll be wearing. The one that only shows up when he thinks no one is looking. Even after they’ve made all their vows and promises, he’s still guarded around them.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

There’s a creak of the floorboards and Sharky slowly walking into the rook, naked as the day he was born. “I guess we’re moving the party down here,” he says through a yawn while rubbing at his eyes. “The bed was empty and I can’t say that I like that.”

“I tried to wake you,” Rook says, reaching a hand out to Sharky and pulling him closer.

“I can be difficult to wake, I admit,” he says. “So, is this a late night, in front of the fire, sex thing? Because I could get it up for that if it is.”

“It’s a sleeping on the couch because the two of you don’t know how to sleep like normal people in a bed thing,” John says.

Rook considers the position she’s in— John between her thighs and Sharky standing completely bare beside her. “It could be a sex thing.”

“Great,” Sharky says, nearly flinging himself onto the sofa, sandwiching Rook between himself and John. “You always say the sweetest things.”

“Sharky.” Rook can’t decide between laughing and trying to push him off. On the one hand, there’s not a lot they can do like this, but on the other hand it’s almost nice having her two favorite men pressed so close. Except for John’s annoyed huffs and attempts to wriggle himself free. Being at the bottom of the pile probably isn’t the most comfortable place.

John gets a knee up and one arm free, pushing at the two of them. “Can’t you behave?” he asks, dumping them on the floor.

Rook laughs, even as she hits the ground, though her fall is broken almost completely by Sharky. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you chose us.” At least for the most part. And either way, she knows John wouldn’t have them any other way, no matter how much he likes to complain. “We should probably take this back to the bedroom.”

“No need,” Sharky says, pushing off the floor and grabbing the blanket from the sofa and one of the pillows John had been using. “We’ve got a nice fire going, we’ve got this nice set up—” he carefully lays out the blanket on the floor in front of the fire— “and, we have all the supplies we need.”

“How do we—” Rook starts, only to be cut off by Sharky shuffling over to the small table beside the sofa and pulling out a bottle of lube and some condoms.

“Gotta be prepared for anything,” he says.

John sits up, looking at Sharky with an expression that is absolutely perplexed. “You stashed that in here in case we decided to have sex in the living room?”

“Again,” Rook adds.

Sharky grins, tossing both items to John. “I stashed the necessary supplies in every room of the house, just in case,” he says. “Including Broseph’s room because you never know when he might need it.”

“Oh, God,” John says quietly.

Rook tries very hard not to laugh, especially at the utterly pained look on John’s face. Is it the idea of his brother using Sharky’s gifts that’s the problem, or the idea of the Father using them? There’s definitely a distinction there, but Rook is still trying to sort it all out. The Seeds’ relationships are a tangled web of unnecessary complications that she hasn’t even begun to unravel. “That was very thoughtful of you, Sharky,” she says instead.

“I’m a thoughtful guy,” Sharky says, grabbing Rook’s ankles and pulling her onto her back so swiftly that it startles another laugh out if her. “And I plan to show you just how thoughtful I can be.”

“Yeah?” Rook hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her pajama pants and pushes them down her hips as far as she can, only to be helped along by Sharky nearly ripping them the rest of the way off of her. “So what’s your— oh.” She feels light and practically giddy when Sharky lifts her up, hooking her legs over his shoulder, and running the flat of his tongue over her clit. “Fuck.” Her nails dig into the soft blanket that’s been laid out on the floor, needing something to hold onto.

She bites her lip, trying to stifle the whines that keep slipping from her throat. Sharky isn’t going slow at all, his lips and tongue are so wet and eager to make her come.

There’s movement beside her and John finally joins them in front of the fire, cast all in warm light. “I suppose it’s worth putting off sleep for this,” he says, running one hand through Sharky’s hair and the other up under her hoodie to gently rub at her breast. “Do you know what you want?”

Rook barely knows her own name. Sharky’s mouth is skilled beyond her comprehension, even after they’ve been together for a while. Every lick and gentle suck has her breath hitching on sobs she doesn’t get a chance to rein in before he does something else that has her soaking wet and hovering right on the edge. “I— fuck— I want you,” she says, wishing desperately for some kind of leverage to push against Sharky’s tongue. “Both of you, in me.”

Sharky gives another wet lick to her clit before pulling off, just long enough to say, “I like the sound of that.” And to emphasize his point, he moves a hand off her thigh to tease at both of her entrances.

“Good, I—” Rook can hardly breathe as she squirms on Sharky’s tongue. “I—” She’s so close she can’t hold any words in her mouth, especially not with Sharky’s fingers just the barest amount inside of her. It’s not enough and she reaches out, grabbing for John and pulling him down into a kiss that’s frantic and messy as her orgasm hits her fast. She moans, rocking her hips to ride out every last wave as Sharky draws it out with his clever tongue and John catches the sounds she’s making before they ever have a chance to escape.

“Exactly as I planned,” Sharky says, slowly lowering her to the floor and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “My ideas are always this good.”

“That’s not—” John sighs, slapping a condom to Sharky’s chest. “Come on, we’re not done here.” His hand travels down between Rook’s legs to touch at where she’s wet and still aching to be filled.

And she hasn’t even had a chance to catch her breath.

Rook sits, with a little assistance from John, then gets up onto shaking thighs to position herself in Sharky’s lap.

“You good?” Sharky asks, running a palm up and down her side.

Rook nods, eyes slipping closed, and sinks onto his cock with a groan. She’s still too close to her release, feeling right back on the edge with the gentle slide of him against her walls. “Fuck,” she whispers, knowing damn well that between the three of them, she’s the one who won’t be able to last very long. “Yeah, yes, fuck.” This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and it certainly won’t be the last, but Rook is still getting used to keeping up with two men determined to have her naked and wanting as often as possible.

“I’ll take it slow,” John murmurs, pressing against her back, fingers wet with lube as he trails over her ass, gently slipping inside. “I’ll be good for you.”

Sharky snorts. “You say such sweet things.”

Rook huffs a laugh, curling closer to Sharky as John carefully stretches her open. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Sharky says, as if there isn’t pink staining his cheeks. It’s still hard to admit how easily John’s charm caught both of them so unaware, though it remains the best thing to happen in their lives. No matter how embarrassed Sharky gets at the thought of it.

John brushes her hair off her shoulder and leaves a gentle kiss against her neck. “Just relax,” he says, lining up his cock and slowly pushing in until he’s fully seated inside of her. “There you go.”

All the air feels punched out of Rook’s lungs and there’s a fullness she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to. She makes a sound like a whine, fingers spasming where she’s started to grip Sharky’s biceps. In the morning there will be bruises exactly the size of her hands and she knows she’ll be proud to see them. But for now, she’s just trying to keep from falling apart between these two men. “God,” she says, finding her voice for a moment. “I’m—”

John presses another kiss to her neck, reaching around her to play with her clit. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Rook shivers, unclenching one hand from Sharky’s arm to grab for John’s waist. “Just… go slow.”

“Of course,” Sharky says, sliding his hands to her ass and spreading her open. “We are going to make you feel so good.”

“I already— fuck.” As slow as they’re going, there’s nothing that can ever prepare her for that first, perfectly in sync, push inside of her. Rook is stuffed full and she can already feel herself adjusting to them, wanting more. And John hasn’t stopped touching her clit which is only helping to speed up that process. She’s going to come on both of their cocks and soon. “Yeah, yes, just— you can— go faster.”

“You said you wanted us to take things slow,” John says, dragging his cock out almost torturously slow before pushing back in like he has all the time in the world. “We only wish to make you happy, my dear.”

There’s not a lot of leverage Rook can get, but she manages to lift herself enough to start her own rhythm, making both of her men groan. It’s music to her ears. If she’s going to come apart between them, then she’ll take them down with her. “Come on,” she says, finally feeling Sharky tighten his hold on her so that he can have her bouncing on his lap, his cock dragging perfectly against her walls. “I—” love you, she wants to say, but instead she drags him into a wet, open mouthed kiss, letting him swallow down all of the breathless words she can’t say.

John laughs again, soft and quiet, picking up his own pace and changing the rhythm again. He tangles his fingers in her hair, pulling her back until her moans are exposed to the open air once more. “Think you’ll last long?”

Rook can barely think at all, but she knows that she won’t. Especially not with the way John continues to rub at her clit and Sharky has started snapping his hips up to fuck her deep. She grinds down, clenching around them as her muscles begin to twitch and her breath catches. There’s an ache inside of her that only they have ever been able to calm. “Harder,” she says, and that must finally be enough because John places a hand flat against her back, pressing her to Sharky’s chest, changing the angle.

“Damn,” Sharky says, “guess it’s gonna be like that,” and moves her up and down on his cock while John fucks her just the right side of too hard.

Rook’s mouth drops open, unable to get any sound out. She’s so close that she can do nothing but ride her two men as John’s clever fingers finally pull her back over the edge. She goes taut for a moment as the pressure builds and then crashes through her in waves. It’s too much and for a moment she thinks she’s going to break apart; every nerve alight with currents of electricity. And somehow, impossibly, all she wants is to pull John and Sharky in deeper. Like they should be trying to claim her from the inside out. She moans, feeling Sharky’s cock become wetter with her release, as the rest of her body becomes pliant and loose.

“Fuck,” John hisses in her ear, his own rhythm speeding and becoming stuttered.

“Yeah,” Sharky says, “fuck.”

Rook would laugh at them if she had the energy, but all she can do is hold on while they use her for their own pleasure. It’s good, though John still had his finger pressed to her clit like he plans to make her come again. As much as that idea has some appeal, especially with the little aftershocks of her orgasm, she doesn’t have the energy for a round three.

Not that she wants him to stop.

Sharky groans loud, pulling her down and slamming his hips up to meet her, and goes still. His face is flushed, cheeks pink even in the low light of the dying fire. He’s cute and Rook can’t help but to kiss him again.

John’s breath is coming out in soft pants against the back of her neck, practically in time with every hard push of his cock inside of her. He moves his hand from her clit, running slick fingers along her belly and up, over her breasts, before cupping her chin and turning her head just enough that he can share in the kiss. There’s a sound caught in his throat, halfway between a moan and a growl, that threatens to break free as he gives another demanding thrust, and another, and presses himself flush to her back as he comes.

They��re sweaty and sticky, and Rook knows she’s going to be a mess, but she feels like she’s never going to want to move from this spot.

“I would live in your pussy if I could,” Sharky says, the only thing louder than John’s breathing while he tries to catch his breath.

“Thanks?” That’s definitely a compliment, though Rook is too tired to understand it.

“You’re such a romantic,” John says, a soft hint of humor in his voice, no matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise. He is utterly charmed by the both of them.

“I hear that a lot.”

John hums, bracing one hand on Rook’s lower back to pull out slowly. She is probably going to be sore later, but it’s always worth it.

“Come on,” he says, gently lifting Rook off of Sharky’s softening cock and helping her stretch out in front of the fire.

“We really should get cleaned up,” she says, not making a single move to do anything about it.

Sharky ties off his used condom and tosses it in the vague direction of the trash can, like John isn’t going to lecture them about doing that. Again. Except he doesn’t. Instead John follows Sharky’s lead, with a small shrug, and joins them stretched out beside Rook on the floor.

“This is the life,” Sharky says, finding a way to sprawl across the both of them, careful to keep elbows and knees away from any sensitive parts.

Rook yawns and shifts closer to John. “I guess we’re staying down here.”

Sharky doesn’t say anything, but he does pat her on the hip which is probably an answer.

“I’m getting a bigger bed,” John murmurs, curling an arm around Sharky and pressing his face to Rook’s hair. “No more sex on the floor.”

“Yeah,” Rook says, knowing perfectly well they’ll have sex anywhere in the house, “sure.”

John grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more, and Sharky is already back asleep.