The slight increase of pressure against his shoulder comes as a small surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Martin straightens against the wall with a breathless smile, his pulse quickening, and he sighs softly as John leans back in.
It is difficult to keep his eyes open as John continues wandering along his throat, up the line of his jaw. In the end he succumbs, letting them flutter shut just moments before John arrives at his ear. And then John speaks — gentle, quiet, bewildering, the words a confusion lacking context for the fraction of time it takes for Martin to realize what's just happened, what John's done. The same span it takes John to nip at his earlobe.
"Ah—!" he yelps, and one hand nearly flies up from the wall to grip at John's arm as he's suffused with an overwhelming desire to pull him in close. He only barely manages to override it, twitching and flattening his palm harder against the wall. Christ.
It isn't just the sensation, and that should be obvious from his reaction, far greater than what such a little teasing gesture would normally produce. John has never done this before, never so explicitly Known something like this, certainly never used it with such playful intent. Martin has a fairly good idea of how much shame John harbors over the slip-ups he's had in the past, the times he's Known and Asked too much. That he's used it here, now, to taunt him in such a coy, gentle way, it's... it's a reinforcement he never could have expected of something he will never take for granted: that John trusts him. John trusts him.
Martin leans as close as the hand in his hair will allow, pressing his cheek briefly to John's and breathing against his ear, "Nearly."
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It is difficult to keep his eyes open as John continues wandering along his throat, up the line of his jaw. In the end he succumbs, letting them flutter shut just moments before John arrives at his ear. And then John speaks — gentle, quiet, bewildering, the words a confusion lacking context for the fraction of time it takes for Martin to realize what's just happened, what John's done. The same span it takes John to nip at his earlobe.
"Ah—!" he yelps, and one hand nearly flies up from the wall to grip at John's arm as he's suffused with an overwhelming desire to pull him in close. He only barely manages to override it, twitching and flattening his palm harder against the wall. Christ.
It isn't just the sensation, and that should be obvious from his reaction, far greater than what such a little teasing gesture would normally produce. John has never done this before, never so explicitly Known something like this, certainly never used it with such playful intent. Martin has a fairly good idea of how much shame John harbors over the slip-ups he's had in the past, the times he's Known and Asked too much. That he's used it here, now, to taunt him in such a coy, gentle way, it's... it's a reinforcement he never could have expected of something he will never take for granted: that John trusts him. John trusts him.
Martin leans as close as the hand in his hair will allow, pressing his cheek briefly to John's and breathing against his ear, "Nearly."