John lays a hand on his arm, and Martin smiles against him, one of his own hands sliding back to delve into John's hair. He keeps kissing him, slow and luxuriant, until they come mutually to a natural terminus. He pulls away by scant degrees, their breath still mingling as his eyes flit over John's face as if checking his work; then he lays his forehead down against John's in some gentle punctuation.

"How's that?" Martin says softly, profoundly pleased with himself and in no rush to hide it. He straightens up a little so they can better look at one another. He keeps one hand in John's hair and moves the other down to rub gently at the junction between shoulder and neck. "Anything else I can do for you?"

It's as much an invitation as a formality. He knows his business; John's various methods of inducing the noises he likes to hear might be more of a production between the two of them, but it goes both ways. Martin likes hearing John groan and swear and purr just as well, and he's been hinting at it since this began. But there is some pleasure in having John request it, just as John delights in soliciting him to ask or plead. He smiles, warm, devoted, and just a little bit smug.