He doesn't need to be asked twice. Honestly, he doesn't even need to be asked the once, but it's nice Q did, anyway. When standing, they fit together sort of perfectly -- both too thin, but John's not really small like Q is (he is, in fact, ridiculously tall), and so there's no strange angle of limbs or anything like that.
Letting go is hard, really fucking hard, but John falls back enough on the way to the bedroom to slip his shoes and socks off, and tells his belt to fuck right on off on the way, too.
Somewhere between that and the bed, he's lost his slacks and everything else too. Clothes: always in the way. "Here, now," he says and wonders if it even makes sense even as he pulls them both onto the bed.