Martin draws a light, pleasantly startled breath when John nuzzles into his belly — mostly surprised at how nice that feels — and answers the following brush of fingers with a soft hum. He grins at the warning, such as it is.

"Don't care," he says, and even after that little start just moments ago, he thinks he really doesn't. His fingers delve deep into John's hair, drifting warm and gentle over his scalp beneath. "If it's not how nice a picture we make then I don't want to hear about it."