A ghost of a smile touched Cecil's lips. His fingers stilled against Frederik's chest, but he didn't pull away. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that vibrated against Frederik's skin.
"And you," Cecil murmured, his gaze locked on Frederik's, "enjoy taking them from me. Don't pretend you don't."
He didn't wait for an answer. Instead of continuing with the buttons, Cecil's hands slid up, his palms flattening against Frederik's chest. He gave Frederik a firm push, bringing him up step by step until his back legs hit the edge of a chaise lounge. Frederik went down far too easily for a man that could kill three shadows if he wanted to.
Cecil followed him down, straddling his lap in one smooth, powerful motion, pinning Frederik down. The formal coat was a barrier between them, and Cecil's patience had run out. He tugged at the lapels.
