John looks heatedly down his chest at the other man, which is rising and falling as if he's been running in a race, although he's too busy panting to do much talking at this point, not making any comment just yet on who's more overdressed, not that Bob gives him much of a chance. It'll probably be a moot point very soon anyway, if things keep going the way they're going. And considering the subsequent loss of his shoe, clearly John's losing the overdressed race, not that he minds that in the least.

Catching his breath a little, he breaks into a crooked smirk. "Aren't you a bloody tease," he says, kicking his foot free of one half of the trousers and leaving his leg pulled up with his knee bent, the sole of his stockinged foot resting on the bed, which is a fairly welcoming position for any intrusion of Bob's hips, especially when he lets his knee fall a bit to the side.