Suddenly John hates his slacks more than anything, as if they have personally offended him and will never be forgiven. "Bloody-- fuck --" He's not sure if it's because of the friction or the possibly thoughtless devotion or -- whatever. Maybe all of the above. But he needs to do things now, because there's just suddenly no time for anything else.
Which makes no sense.
He scoots Q up a little higher -- it gets rid of the friction (sadly) but does allow him to lean forward while holding the brunet's ass and bite at his hip bones.