Well, his hand isn't going anywhere, so it clearly can't be a bad thing. He's further encouraged by the moan he drags out of John, and he bites down on his neck again, harder this time, testing how far John will let him go until he's telling him to stop.

"Never," he admits, moving them around so he's got John pressed back against the wall. His body arches against those roaming hands, his own stroking John's dick slowly, tracing over the shape and feeling its weight, as if studying it. "Too bad I've got nothing on me for more than that."