Polite, but never posh. Let's not forget that one, Q.
John doesn't bother replying though, because he's too busy delighting in the shivers and utter desperation that Q is giving; too busy biting and kissing and bruising.
He's sure that it's a cliche, but his own climax wasn't far behind to begin with and it's all kinds of perfect. Spots of colors behind closed eyelids kinds of perfect. It's been a while, but he hardly regrets that now. It's nearly a delirious thought, but he could get used to this young elfin slip of a man and not feel bad for it.