Martin draws a barely audible breath as John traces a finger tenderly down his spine, shivers slightly — not from cold or arousal, both of which are still far from him now, but something harder to define. Then John's hand stills and he asks if it's okay, and Martin blinks.
It's a good question, a fair question, and it's not John asking that surprised him; it's the more internally directed question of what this is. John touches him all the time, and it would still be perfectly reasonable of him to ask if it was all right, but this... this is different. John knows it's different, that this is... unusual, for him. There isn't much call for him to be undressed in any sort of intimate context, and that isn't only because of John's preferences, but Martin's own. Is this okay doesn't mean right now; it means this, John touching him like this, like... like whatever this is.
He still doesn't have an answer to that. He only knows it's different, and that it is more than okay.
"Yes," he says softly, and he lays his shirt aside and shifts to situate himself a little more comfortably. He hesitates, and then, even softer: "Please."
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It's a good question, a fair question, and it's not John asking that surprised him; it's the more internally directed question of what this is. John touches him all the time, and it would still be perfectly reasonable of him to ask if it was all right, but this... this is different. John knows it's different, that this is... unusual, for him. There isn't much call for him to be undressed in any sort of intimate context, and that isn't only because of John's preferences, but Martin's own. Is this okay doesn't mean right now; it means this, John touching him like this, like... like whatever this is.
He still doesn't have an answer to that. He only knows it's different, and that it is more than okay.
"Yes," he says softly, and he lays his shirt aside and shifts to situate himself a little more comfortably. He hesitates, and then, even softer: "Please."