Christ, that certainly got a reaction. And he hasn't even done anything, not really. John's other eyebrow creeps up to join the first, and he doesn't even try to hide the smirk that follows. If the mere suggestion is enough to earn him all this — the little gasp, Martin tensed and trembling in his arms, that whimper — what will happen when he actually goes for it?

He's quite curious to find out, but he doesn't make any sudden moves. Not yet. He may be an avid collector of ways to effectively render Martin incapable of coherent thought, but that doesn't mean he approaches all this with an eye towards efficiency. Granted, now that he thinks about it, that might be an intriguing avenue of approach at least once... but better to have more tools at his disposal before he attempts anything along those lines. For now, he's well aware of how much value there is in anticipation alone. No harm in exploring that.

So he gazes down at Martin for a moment, his focus shifting from his lidded eyes to the soft arch of his throat, already bared despite the lack of any real pressure on the back of his head. And then he bends down with a thoughtful hum, breathing a deliberately nonchalant, "Wasn't sure I'd go for it?" against Martin's neck. He kisses him once, and then again, leisurely, letting his lips drag against Martin's skin as he traces his way up towards his jaw. It isn't until he reaches the soft spot just below the hinge of it that he experimentally tightens his grip, his fingers curling close and firm against Martin's scalp.