Knowing that Martin intends to spoil him is one thing; experiencing it is another. He can't quite squash the feeling that this is excessive — not in the sense of being too much to bear, but in an 'embarrassment of riches' sort of way, with emphasis on 'embarrassment.' It's not enough to override the fundamental delight of being so openly treasured, but it is certainly enough to make him blush and even giggle under Martin's fond scrutiny.

"It's perfect," he replies, his tone just dry enough to suggest that Martin already knew as much and hardly needs the verbal confirmation. Nor does he need John to float the idea of what he ought to do next, judging by the way he's already rubbing at John's shoulder... but he supposes he has no right to begrudge Martin stealing some of his tricks, given the general role reversal they've settled into. If he wants it, he'll have to request it.

John settles a hand just below Martin's wrist, subtly encouraging him to keep his hand where it is. "Well, if it's not too much to ask," he murmurs, "I think I could stand a bit more of this." He sweeps his thumb over Martin's wrist for emphasis, then lowers his hand to pluck at his undershirt. "Might need some help taking this off, though. I'd understand if that's a bridge too far."