Martin lets out a quiet, delighted little "Ah—" as John's hand presses to his back, not quite pulling him closer but holding him firm and steady. His eyes open as John draws back, letting himself see him, the glorious reality of him right there. He would never have guessed John was so good at this, but then, he supposes this John has had a fair amount of practice. It's sort of thrilling, thinking how well John knows him, knows what he likes, perhaps better than Martin knows it himself. Thrilling and a bit daunting, if he's being honest, but he pushes that aside for now. Easy, with John's other hand covering his own, with John's lips brushing against the inside of his wrist. Martin shivers, his eyes widening just a bit before falling shut again as John returns to his mouth.

John doesn't let go his hand, instead drawing it up to his hair, and Martin lets out something that almost constitutes a squeak as he eagerly sinks his fingers into the short, soft hair at the back of John's neck, bracing there gently while his other hand rises to card through the thicker length up higher on his head.