Q pouted a bit at that. He always pouted when anyone asked him to do anything terribly physical.

"And here I thought the whole point of wooing a double-o was to lay back and let them do the work," he muttered, reaching for his bag to retrieve the small tube of lubricant he'd taken to travelling with. It had made its way to the bottom, but he found it easily enough.

Settling on his knees, he prepared himself discreetly. He was a touch bashful about it, actually. His head ducked and cheeks faintly pink.