He could say there's no romance in this, but Wesley would disagree. There's an unbroken connection between their eyes, gazes locked together and something of an open acceptance in Wesley's blue eyes as he stares up at Q even as his cheeks hollow a bit and he applies gentle suction to the digit inside his mouth. He doesn't need to push for what's going to come next, he knows Q will get them there when he pleases, when he wants it.

Instead, he lets his hands gently push open the man's pants, guide them down from his hips. His hands are rough but careful in their touch as they curve upon Q's hipbones, slide down to his ass to simply feel and then down to his thighs, tracing the crease between a leg and a buttock with enduring patience.