Jonathan Sims

Allowing Martin to keep his hands where they are pays off almost immediately. The light squeeze John gives him is answered by a little scrub of Martin's fingers, not enough to distract him outright, but more than enough to get Martin's approval across. Maybe they weren't strictly in need of a new method of communication — they've got on well enough without it so far — but he's both instantly charmed and rather intrigued by the way this one's working out. As much as Martin's noises delight him, he certainly wouldn't say no to additional feedback by way of having his hair played with. It's lovely and gentle, and John nuzzles against Martin's chest with a soft, pleased hum.

Still, he doesn't want to let himself luxuriate in it too much. He has other things he means to try. They haven't done this often enough for him to have a particularly thorough map of the possibilities, and he is always eager to chart new territory. He takes Martin's right nipple between the pad of his thumb and the side of his forefinger, giving it more of an assessing roll than an outright squeeze. Then he closes his lips around his left side, drawing Martin's nipple into his mouth and tracing his tongue around the firm peak in an experimental whorl.