"God but you have a talented mouth," Q hisses, hips pressing up as he digs his fingers into John's shoulders. He'd been thinking of this since seeing John's lips around that goddamned cigarette, watching his mouth as he blew smoke rings, but the reality is always so very much better.
"I thought of you, you know," he admits, his voice edging on sheepish. "At night, when I went to bed without you. I've half a dozen toys I'd fuck myself with whenever I got lonely." Even if John's mouth is busy, Q's certainly isn't, and he's going to bloody well take that opportunity while he has it.