"Mm, no. Ace is perfect." The glasses are set on the coffee table behind him and he shrugs out of his waistcoat once John finishes unbuttoning it.
Then, with a coy sort of smile of his own, Q ducks his head to suck at John's throat, trailing kisses over his skin before he finds a spot just above his pulsepoint to settle in and work on a nice, dark mark. Meanwhile, his hands keep busy exploring John's chest, nails scraping lightly over his pecs.