The stiffness in Martin's body no longer has anything to do with embarrassment or ridiculous irritability; now, he is frozen as if the tiniest movement will shake them out of this reality and back onto a path he might've more easily anticipated. As if he might somehow startle John out of wanting to kiss him.

Resisting has absolutely no appeal, but simple acquiescence also lies just beyond his reach. Instead, a nearly imperceptible shiver runs through him as John's lips brush along his neck, and his lips part as if to answer with a little whine, like he ordinarily might. He can't muster a sound, but his breath trembles and his fingers flex as if he wants to reach out and doesn't quite dare.

"I—" He swallows thickly, his chin tipping up ever so slightly in what might be an attempt at a nod, or a half-conscious request. "I'm not sure I deserve that," he says, his voice dry, his tone teetering somewhere between facetious and wary.