"Mm-mm," he confirms, his eyes slipping half-closed again. As if he's been reminded it's still there, he starts to stroke up and down John's cock in small, lingering movements, his fingers relaxed.

"I wanted to. I didn't though." He can't remember why not, now. Attempting to remember is about the least important thing he can possibly imagine, so when he's done talking he sighs and swallows around the tentacles; a line of spit is hanging out of his mouth, though he hasn't particularly noticed.