John isn't drunk enough to miss that implication, and he hums, playfully intrigued. "That so?" he murmurs, drawing back to trail three small, light kisses along Martin's cheek before reaching his lips and lingering there for a few moments, breathing softly against him. He breaks away gently, then opens his eyes to look at him, his gaze warm and fond.

"I suppose it's lucky for you that I like touching it so much, then." John lifts one hand to sift his fingers through Martin's hair, his smile widening a few degrees. There's something a bit ridiculous about the coyness of Martin's implication — as if any amount of subtle arm-twisting should be necessary for this sort of thing — but he suspects that's rather the point. John's expression takes a turn for the sheepish as he adds, "I, er... thought about it, too. Had to restrain myself back when you had that awful cold."

He'd done so to banish the Lonely, of course, but that had been a necessity. Taking advantage, under those circumstances, would've felt... well, creepy. But in that miserable aftermath, with Martin turned away and curled in on himself, the temptation had been rather more acute than usual.

Now, though, he can do as he likes, and John continues his ministrations with as much focus as his current state of inebriation allows.