Now that's a reaction. If Martin's hold on him hadn't instinctively tightened, John thinks he might's been jostled loose by the sudden, sharp arch of Martin's spine. He still ends up releasing Martin to breathe, and to allow himself a flash of a smile. Holy shit, he thinks, his stomach clenching with a nascent, giddy giggle that he has to work to suppress.
He could almost kick himself for taking this long to use his tongue for something besides smart remarks. Granted, the hesitation had made sense. Most of what he does with his mouth falls under the general umbrella of 'kissing,' and they had quickly discovered they were on the same page when it came to not enjoying kisses that were too... well, wet. It had felt natural, then, to keep his tongue out of the way as a matter of course. Changing that had been partly (perhaps even mostly) incidental; he can't very well pull Martin into his mouth without his tongue coming into play to some extent. It had just taken him a bit to appreciate how silly it was to prudently ignore it, or pretend it wasn't a tool he could use if he worked up the requisite gumption.
Presuming Martin enjoyed it, of course. Perhaps the prospect of it being too much, somehow — or simply not to Martin's tastes — is one of the reasons he hadn't gone for it sooner. There was a mortifying plausibility to 'presuming to lick Martin and being asked in no uncertain terms to stop,' and while he's recovered from missteps in the bedroom before, he thinks that one, had it occurred, would actually have killed him.
But his first (and most incidental) attempt had been a rousing success, and the second even more so. It seems audacity is becoming something of a theme, and John loves nothing so much as being a bit of a shit. Especially if it has the added benefit of driving Martin mad. To that end, John seals his lips back over Martin's chest, this time dragging the flat of his tongue over his nipple in a slow, pointed lap. He gives that move a beat to stand on its own, then follows it by giving Martin's other side a proper pinch and a good, firm tug.
no subject
He could almost kick himself for taking this long to use his tongue for something besides smart remarks. Granted, the hesitation had made sense. Most of what he does with his mouth falls under the general umbrella of 'kissing,' and they had quickly discovered they were on the same page when it came to not enjoying kisses that were too... well, wet. It had felt natural, then, to keep his tongue out of the way as a matter of course. Changing that had been partly (perhaps even mostly) incidental; he can't very well pull Martin into his mouth without his tongue coming into play to some extent. It had just taken him a bit to appreciate how silly it was to prudently ignore it, or pretend it wasn't a tool he could use if he worked up the requisite gumption.
Presuming Martin enjoyed it, of course. Perhaps the prospect of it being too much, somehow — or simply not to Martin's tastes — is one of the reasons he hadn't gone for it sooner. There was a mortifying plausibility to 'presuming to lick Martin and being asked in no uncertain terms to stop,' and while he's recovered from missteps in the bedroom before, he thinks that one, had it occurred, would actually have killed him.
But his first (and most incidental) attempt had been a rousing success, and the second even more so. It seems audacity is becoming something of a theme, and John loves nothing so much as being a bit of a shit. Especially if it has the added benefit of driving Martin mad. To that end, John seals his lips back over Martin's chest, this time dragging the flat of his tongue over his nipple in a slow, pointed lap. He gives that move a beat to stand on its own, then follows it by giving Martin's other side a proper pinch and a good, firm tug.