Quentin hums thoughtfully. His hands work down to the small of Eggsy's back. He's still got the crop tucked up under his arm, and still has every intention of using it. But there's this anticipation rife in the air, these other expectations.

He fits himself against Eggsy's back and lets him feel that he's hard too, that he's not unimpressed with how Eggsy's doing. He knows what a fine wool suit feels like against skin, and he imagines that Eggsy does too, and so there's no pretending there at all. When his lips find Eggsy's neck, his ear, he sighs a little bit.

It's been a long time. And Eggsy is very tempting like this.

"Who said I was going to fuck you?"