That look on Wesley's face only serves to fan the flaming heat rising in Q's veins, making his pulse quicken a touch, fingers tightening further for a fraction of a second. His free hand moves up, fingertips tracing along the seam of those smiling, red lips thoughtfully.

"... This, I think," he muses quietly, thumb gently tugging on the fuller, lower lip, dipping in to lightly brush over Wesley's tongue. "I want you on your knees, taking me down your throat. Do you think you could do that for me, darling?"