Martin gives no indication that the cat is a problem; if anything, he looks pleased, though he's still plainly weighing his options. John relaxes a bit, reassured that whatever Martin is considering, it seems it won't upset the cat or their current configuration. He can get comfortable.

Or as comfortable as he can get when there's a question hanging in the air — even one as innocuous as what lovely thing Martin intends to do to him. He finds himself biting back an anticipatory little smirk as the mattress dips, but there's no hiding the grin it blossoms into when he feels Martin's fingers slide into his hair. The sound that escapes him isn't that different to The Bishop's continuing purrs.

"It's perfect," he sighs, tucking his chin in so he can briefly nuzzle between the cat's ears. Then he returns Martin's gaze, his eyes already half-lidded from his ministrations. "Love you," he adds, the vowels drawn out in muzzy satisfaction.