"Nnh—" Martin huffs in surprise when John's arms encircle him, breath catching in his throat, and he nearly drops the keys. The heat of John's breath against his ear, the brush of his lips — he bites back another whimper, allowing only an awkward grunt as he tries to get the key in the damn lock.

"You're," he says through his teeth, "incorrigible." The key finally slides in and the lock clicks and he nearly topples in as he pushes the door open, squirming to turn around in John's arms and pull him along.