Jonathan Sims

"Ah—!" Martin whines sharply through gritted teeth as John actually threatens to bite down properly, his whole body now shivering with the effort of keeping still. He wants, very suddenly and very badly, to struggle, but it isn't practical with John's teeth so near sensitive territory, nor when he's not functionally restrained and could far too easily dislodge John completely. But Christ, the impulse is strong, nearer to reflexive than it's been in a while, he thinks. It's a small relief when John releases him, though only in the sense that he needed a slight breather; he is immediately, intensely desperate for more.

John murmurs softly against his skin, favoring him with some gentler treatment before startling Martin anew by actually grasping a solid handful of his chest and squeezing him between his fingers. Martin jerks beneath him, his eyes flying back open as he gasps and whimpers, the intensity of his vocalizations now tempered by breathlessness. He lifts one hand off the couch to brace instead against the back of it, needing the extra support to keep himself contained. He's starting to think he should've been tied up for this, but he also has no desire to halt things long enough to even suggest that.

There is some distant embarrassment over how much being essentially groped is doing it for him. It's not even the first time he's experienced such a sensation, unlike a lot of the most effective things John pulls. A couple of the men he's been with did like the shape and softness of his body, and they each showed it in similar fashion, seizing handfuls of him to make him squeak. But it wasn't the same. It's never the same. With them it felt either invasive and uninvited, or distantly like he was being mocked. But John didn't start there, way back when their relationship was becoming increasingly physical. John started gentle, tender and even reverent, making it clear again and again that he likes Martin for the whole of him, not certain relevant parts. Mutual respect has always been too important to them to ever mistake John's intentions, even in their early days when Martin still had a lot of self-doubt to climb over. That John is resorting to this kind of maneuver now is... it's just because he wants to, because he's gotten the sense Martin might like it, and because, as ever, he's keen to see what kind of effect it'll have. And it is effective. It's effective now for the same reason that it never was before: there is a stark difference between being treated like a plaything because that's what he is, and being treated like a plaything because that's how he wants to feel. This is theater; it is for his benefit more than John's, and John would never dream of it otherwise.

So it isn't the sensation itself, not really; as with so much of what Martin enjoys, it has far more to do with the suggestion that he is desirable, and that he is at John's mercy, whatever form that may take.

At least, this is what will solidify later, what exists now only as quick, disjointed thoughts. Right now he is rather more concerned with the moment itself. He tries to speak, perhaps an attempt to answer John's largely rhetorical question, or simply to beg, but all that comes out is another shrill, utterly desperate whine.