Martin meets the kiss with open desperation, moaning sweetly against John's lips, relieved to feel him so close after all that. His fingers twitch, no longer needed in the occupation of keeping him braced, but lacking an obvious alternative. When John pulls back, Martin meets his lidded gaze, his breath still coming quick and shallow, but no other outward signs of tension to be found.

And then John speaks, coming close so Martin can feel his breath ghosting across his lips, and the immediate thrill he feels at the offer almost shocks him. This is all he wanted, he realizes, his arms immediately resettling themselves around John with barely even enough time for John's generous but unnecessary addendum. One hand he sets at the familiar valley between John's shoulder blades, and the other he curls tenderly into John's hair at the back of his head. Christ, he just wanted to be allowed to touch him, but if he'd actually let himself think that — it wouldn't have seemed fair. A hand on the back of John's head might have seemed too much like guiding, or even worse, keeping him in place. It might've come as a shock, might've disrupted the whole thing. That avenue had seemed so inherently blocked off that he hadn't even let himself want it clearly enough that he knew to ask. But now...

"Yes," he whispers, gently pulling John down for another kiss. "Yes."