Jonathan Sims

It isn't until Martin is nestled close beside him that John feels like he can properly breathe again. He curls an arm around Martin and budges a bit closer, head turned to press a lingering kiss to Martin's brow. They're okay. Martin is warm and soft and still here, still with him, and they're okay.

He pulls in a slow, deep breath, then releases it, his eyes drifting shut as Martin's fingers comb through his hair. "Better," he agrees. For a few moments, he just lies there, settling by degrees into a stillness that is more peaceful than weary. Then he cracks his eyes open, studying Martin's face as if he's committing it to memory, lingering on his lips for an extra moment before leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow.