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Harry positions himself carefully so he has an uninterrupted view of the exits and the hotel bar which Eggsy is ably propping up with a casual, insouciant slouch as he watches the room with a practiced eye, waiting for their mark. Eggsy looks beautiful tonight in his dark blue, single breasted suit, white shirt open at the collar. There’s a light dusting of what Roxy has reliably informed Harry is known as designer stubble across his jaw which makes him look younger than he is. It looks like he's on the pull and Harry is furious about it. Several people have already approached him, asked to buy him a drink, asked if he’ll buy them a drink, honestly, the nerve of some people. Eggsy has demurred every time with a soft look, a hand on the arm. Every one of them has walked away with a smile, like they haven’t just been shot down; Harry taught him that.
Just as Harry is about to give in to the itching temptation to go to the bar and order a drink Roxy appears at his elbow looking equally as beautiful as Eggsy in pale grey silk.
‘Is this seat taken?’ she asks, ‘it’s rather busy in here tonight.’
Harry stands to pull the chair out for her, ‘not at all, be my guest,’ he extends his hand, ‘Henry DeVere.’
She shakes it gently, a small smile pulling at her mouth when she replies, ‘Elizabeth Bennett.’
They sit in silence for a moment, watching Eggsy fend off another suitor.
‘She’s on her way down,’ says Roxy, brightly; to the casual observer it would look like they were making polite small talk.
‘ETA five minutes,’ says Merlin in their ears.
‘Do you think this will work?’ asks Roxy.
Harry shrugs almost imperceptibly, ‘we’ve little choice at this stage.’
They’ve been tailing this mark, Lady Catherine Argyle, for months. She’s been too clever, her security, digital and physical, has stumped even Merlin and they still don’t have enough evidence to pin anything specific on her, despite the corruption and violence that seems to follow her everywhere. Now their only option is too get close to her, physically. Enter Eggsy.
‘She has a habit for picking up beautiful younger men and Eggsy is the most beautiful man in the room.’
‘I’m not asking if it would work on you,’ says Roxy.
In their ears Merlin says, ‘everything Eggsy does works on Harry.’
Harry tries to think up a witty retort just as Roxy’s hand closes on his arm; in the doorway Lady Catherine has stepped into the room, flanked by two bodyguards who are obviously packing unregistered firearms and an air of menace.
‘Here we go,’ murmurs Roxy as Catherine strides up to the bar, right next to Eggsy, even giving him the once over in the way of people used to getting what they want.
‘Stop being so obvious, the pair of you,’ hisses Merlin and Harry startles, turns back to Roxy, ‘what did you have for breakfast?’
She laughs, ‘is that the chat you used to seduce Eggsy? I always knew he was easy but that’s embarrassing.’
‘Tell me about your last fuck then?’ says Harry blithely, anything to stop himself looking back at the bar.
Roxy rolls her eyes at him, ‘if you want that story you’ll have to buy me another drink.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ says Merlin.
Harry risks a glance; Eggsy is already laughing with Catherine, his hand on the small of her back. Harry is passable at lip reading, they can’t wire up an agent that may be in close contact with a mark, it’s their job to place a bug in any room they enter out of range of other agents on the ground. There’s always the glasses, obviously, but Eggsy has chosen not to wear them.
‘Tell me, Catherine, what brings you out this evening?’ Eggsy asks in perfect RP.
‘Please, call me Cate. I’m just here for some fun. What sort of fun do you think I can find, Gary?’
Eggsy’s answer is lost as he leans in to whisper in her ear and Harry is up and striding towards the bar oblivious to Roxy’s hand on his arm and Merlin muttering furiously in his ear, ‘don’t fuck up my mission, Arthur. You agreed to this, you said you could handle it.’
‘I am handling it,’ whispers Harry as he reaches the bar, leaning past Eggsy who shows no sign of recognition. One of Catherine’s guards steps threateningly forward at Harry’s presence so close to his boss but he merely rubs his knuckles in Harry’s direction. Harry orders, a glass of champagne for Roxy, scotch for himself, and lets himself lean, a warm presence at Eggsy’s back.
Eggsy straightens up, takes Catherine’s hand, ‘shall we find somewhere a little less busy?’ he says. Over Eggsy’s shoulder Harry can see Catherine’s eyes flick between her bodyguards and back to Eggsy, assessing. Eggsy hasn’t acknowledged them, not even with his eyes, but it’s obvious what he means. Catherine lowers her lashes, coy, a far cry from what she’s capable of.
‘I’m old enough to be your mother, Gary.’
Merlin snorts in Harry’s ear.
‘If you want flattery you can have it,’ says Eggsy, stepping closer, ‘but I think we both know what we want here.’
Her eyes flash, steely and menacing, before she smiles, ‘I like a man who can be direct. You’re full of surprises aren’t you?’
‘You have no idea.’
‘I have a suite upstairs; would you care to join me for a nightcap?’
Merlin whistles through his teeth, making Harry wince, ‘your boy is good, isn’t he? I didn’t think it’d be that easy.’
Harry knocks back his drink as Roxy appears by his side at the bar and they watch Eggsy and Catherine head out into the lobby, her bodyguards trailing at a more discrete distance than before.
Upstairs in their hotel suite Harry is acutely aware of Roxy a pace behind him, as he faffs with the surveillance equipment.
‘I don’t have to stay,’ she says.
Harry half turns, it should be her, really, sat here watching the recording. Harry’s conflict of interest is a mile long when it comes to Eggsy, not to mention his professional paranoia and possessive streak he absolutely won’t admit to. Merlin has all but banned him from working with Eggsy in the field but Harry had put his foot down with this; if Eggsy is going on a honeypot, Harry will provide backup.
‘It’s fine,’ he says, ‘unless you’d rather not watch this,’ he gestures to the screens where various images of Catherine’s suite are flicking to life as Eggsy surreptitiously plants the bugs, no audio yet.
Roxy shakes her head, ‘he’s not the one I don’t want to watch,’ and Harry would be offended if it weren’t for the warring sensations of arousal and jealousy already prickling under his skin at what he’s about to watch.
Harry had never thought himself to be a jealous man before Eggsy barrelled into his life. He had never got particularly attached to any of his previous liaisons which were generally conducted with the minimum of fuss, a handshake or a peck on the cheek come morning, if they made it that far. Everyone got what they came for and no one was left unsatisfied but Eggsy inspires something in Harry, warm and encompassing. He wants to hold him close and keep him; except a boy like Eggsy cannot be kept. Catherine is a very beautiful woman and Eggsy has had to do worse things in the line of duty, Harry would be a hypocrite to stop him, now.
‘I’ll be at the bar if you need me,’ says Roxy, giving him a slightly pitying look as she heads out of the room.
Turning back to the monitors, Harry switches on the audio to hear Eggsy speaking rather distantly, ‘your friends going to stand around outside all night are they? Why not send them back to the bar, eh?’
Harry flips through the views he has of the suite; Eggsy has managed to place two bugs in the bedroom, two in the living room, one in the bathroom and the last, most helpfully, in Catherine’s handbag while she was giving him a cursory tour. They aren’t all picking up audio so the sounds of their voices fade in and out across the speakers as they move around the room. They’re in the living room currently, Catherine lounging across a sofa, shoes off, while Eggsy mixes drinks at the bar in the corner.
‘You don’t really mind do you Gary?’ she says, ‘I’m a very important woman. My husband would be very put out if anything happened to me.’
Eggsy has brought the drinks over to her, raises his eyebrows in surprise at that.
‘Does that shock you? That I’d invite you back here when I have a husband at home?’
‘Your marriage is none of my business,’ says Eggsy smoothly, ‘I can’t imagine my boyfriend would be too happy if anything happened to me either.’
‘Risky,’ says Merlin in Harry’s ear, ‘too personal.’
But Harry can see how delighted Catherine is by this tidbit of information. She shifts closer to Eggsy on the sofa, opening her body up to him, and Harry says, ‘yes, thank you, Merlin. I can take it from here.’
Merlin sighs, ‘alright, signing off. And do pull yourself together Harry.’
‘Does he know you’re here, your boyfriend?’ Catherine is saying.
Eggsy shrugs.
‘What’s his name?’
Harry watches the tiny twitch of Eggsy’s shoulders as he shifts, eyes flicking toward the camera he’s planted in the corner so he’s looking right down the lens when he says, ‘Harry.’ His eyes slide straight back to Catherine, to her mouth and he smiles, seductive, and Harry knows the smile is for him.
‘This Harry, he’s good to you is he?’ she says, shifting to put her drink down and press closer to Eggsy’s side. Their faces are so close now, Eggsy puts his hands to her waist, pulls her into his lap.
‘Why do you want to talk about him? I’m here with you aren’t I?’
‘I want to hear what you like. Does he fuck you?’
Eggsy smirks, his lips are a hair's breadth from her skin, breath ghosting across her cheek as she looks down at him, mouth slightly parted.
‘Sure, he fucks me.’
‘Is he any good.’
‘The best.’
‘So why are you here?’
Eggsy moves his hands up under her dress to grip her thighs, bruising, ‘I should have thought that was obvious.’
She rolls her hips against him, ‘oh but you’re so young. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘Would you like me to show you?’ he pulls her dress up one handed to her waist, the other sliding against her, pressing in, stroking, Harry isn’t sure, he can’t see from this angle but it makes her head tip back. She braces her arms across his shoulders, lets her hips fall into the gentle rocking motion of his hand. He’s looking up at her, to watch her reactions carefully.
Harry’s always catching Eggsy looking at him like that, not just when they’re in bed, but in the boardroom, over breakfast, gauging Harry’s mood; his shrewd judgement makes him good in a fight, a generous friend, but to see all that focus, that attention, directed at someone else from the outside makes a prickly heat rise under Harry’s skin.
Catherine is moaning now as Eggsy works his hand against her, presses kisses to her collarbones, with a hint of teeth. She’s flushed and panting as she rises towards climax, tipping forward as her hips twitch against the relentless movement of Eggsy’s hand. He raises his fingers to her lips, shiny and wet, ‘you like that?’
She pats him on the cheek, rather patronisingly considering the apparently spectacular orgasm he just gave her. Harry can see Eggsy visibly struggling not to roll his eyes, ‘better than your husband am I?’
‘Sweetheart, you’ll do.’
She gets up from the sofa, dress falling back over her thighs and offers him a hand. Eggsy doesn’t take it, shrugs off his jacket and toes off his shoes, as he follows her towards the bedroom. She keeps close but Harry notes they still haven’t kissed as he switches to the cameras in the bedroom.
‘How does your Harry fuck you, what does he like?’
‘What do you want to hear? That he bends me over and makes me take it?’
‘I want to hear the truth. I bet you take it so beautifully.’
They’ve reached the bed now and she pushes Eggsy down onto it and climbs up to straddle him. Eggsy rocks his hips against her, the slight curl of his lip betraying how hard he is, how needy.
‘He’s older than me,’ Eggsy admits, ‘older than you. Likes to show me new things, make the most of his experience. He likes to adore me.’
Catherine stops unbuttoning Eggsy’s shirt, ‘he’s your sugar daddy then? How delicious.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. I have my own means but it pays in other ways to be fucked by a man who’s been shagging longer than you’ve been alive.’
He yanks the zip at the back of her dress down, hands her arse so he can tip her forward and pull it over her head. This is nothing like how Harry and Eggsy fuck; Catherine has Eggsy’s shirt open now, scraping her nails down his chest hard enough to raise red welts on his skin but Eggsy is moaning into it and they keep up their conversation, barbed and taunting.
‘And how do you fuck him?’ she says and Eggsy surges up to capture her mouth in a biting kiss, then, all teeth and tongue as he grips her jaw in one strong hand, the other digging into her hip. She smiles into it, catching his bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away, ‘oh, won’t he let you?’
In Harry’s bed Eggsy is always so sweetly yielding, all lowered lashes and bitten lips, his cheeks flushing pink, his green eyes liquid as he arches into Harry’s touch, Harry’s praise. He's always effusive in his adoration of Eggsy; comparing him to Pre-Raphaelite masterpieces, Baroque statues and Renaissance saints. Harry has never been a religious man but it’s as close as he gets to worship, having Eggsy in his arms. They see too much pain in their line of work, inflict it too often, to be into that in the bedroom but a scrape of teeth, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise? Does Eggsy want that? The quick, rough, desperate sex of Harry’s youth held its own appeal but Harry supposes he might have mellowed with age; learned to appreciate the delayed gratification of a long, slow fuck that can last for hours until Eggsy comes, almost silent, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Harry knows he doesn’t leave Eggsy wanting but watching him now, with Catherine, he wonders if Eggsy’s distancing himself, playing a part, giving her what she wants or if he genuinely enjoys this. Is it a part of himself he doesn’t think Harry wants to see?
‘Would you like me to show you how I fuck as well?’ he says as he flips them so she’s on her back, legs automatically folding round his hips as her hands fall to his belt. She pulls it completely from his trousers with a crack and a raised eyebrow at the sound that draws out of him, gets his flies open and pushes his trousers down to mid thigh.
They don’t speak now, Eggsy rolls on a condom, Harry missed him getting it out of his wallet, his eyes flicking endlessly between Catherine's heels digging into the small of Eggsy’s back, Eggsy’s mouth on her breasts. He’s focused now, on the sudden sharp intake of breath Catherine makes when Eggsy thrusts into her for the first time. Harry breathes out, presses the heel of his hand to his dick, hard and insistent, his first concession to the fact he likes what he’s been watching.
Eggsy moves slowly at first, long, firm strokes of his hips that have her tossing her head and pressing up to meet him, fingers clutching at the short hair at the nape of his neck, until she’s begging, for him move faster, fuck her harder and Eggsy seems only too happy to oblige. He pulls her legs up to his shoulders, fucks in to her fast and hard, hand pressed to her clit between them until she’s clinging to his shoulders, screaming.
Harry closes his eyes, pulls the headphones off, doesn’t want to watch Eggsy come because of someone else and when he opens his eyes Catherine is looking at her phone while Eggsy sits on the edge of the bed buttoning his shirt back up, like a bad jumpcut. Catherine frowns at Eggsy, tosses her phone to the bed, ‘you can let yourself out can’t you?’ she says, dismissive, as she gets up and heads to the bathroom. The door clicks shut and Eggsy immediately goes for her phone, puts a cloning device of Merlin’s into the charging port and waits impatiently for the green light that indicates successful transfer. Harry watches Eggsy walk back in to the living room, put his shoes and jacket back on with one last glance round the room before he heads out. The buzz of Harry’s glasses lets him know Eggsy has sent a message; mission complete. Harry waits an hour, the standard protocol, to ensure Eggsy has had time to get clear before he packs up to leave too.
On the doorstep of the Mews Harry waits a beat, looking up at the house; the lights are on in their bedroom, Eggsy is home and waiting for Harry, waiting for the fallout. Harry wars with the simultaneous feelings of desire and envy, aching to go to Eggsy, to be with him and terrified of how he’ll feel when he does. And he will go to him because he can’t bear not to.
Eggsy is in bed, on top of the covers rather than under them, looking scrubbed clean, skin tinged pink and hair fluffy. He’s wearing tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt which, considering he usually goes to bed in boxers and not much else, is revealing. Harry can’t bear the thought that Eggsy is worrying about him, that he would worry about this, something that Harry has asked him to do in the line of duty, even as renewed jealousy fizzes under his skin.
‘Harry, alright?’ says Eggsy sitting up and sliding his feet round and to the floor, wary.
‘Eggsy, darling,’ is all Harry can think to say before he’s striding across the room to put his hands on Eggsy, desperate suddenly to touch.
When they kiss it’s like a tide, Eggsy rising up to meet him, gripping onto Harry’s shoulders as Harry hooks his fingers under Eggsy’s jaw hard enough to bruise. They strip each other quickly, fingers itching to get to skin and Harry gets Eggsy down on the bed, pulling and pressing at firm muscle like it’s a fight, like when they spar at the gym and Merlin shouts at them for scaring the new recruits with their ferocity; no one gets between Arthur and Galahad.
Eggsy looks at Harry firmly, breath hot and damp against Harry’s throat, ‘what do you want Harry? You can have anything you want.’
‘I want you to fuck me,’ like you fucked her, goes unsaid.
Eggsy doesn’t say anything, he’s young, already hard and dripping under Harry’s hands, eyes dark with intent and he nods, pushing at Harry’s hips for him to turn over. Harry rolls on to his front, dick pressed to the sheets as Eggsy shoves a knee between his legs to knock them wider, a pause, and suddenly Eggsy’s teeth are scraping the top of Harry’s spine as he pushes two slick fingers slowly into Harry’s hole. He keeps up a relentless pace, pushing deeper inside, lube dripping down Harry's balls, endless pulses of pleasure that skim up Harry’s spine, unbearable, until Harry whines and shifts against the sheets, desperately chasing friction. Eggsy tuts and stills his fingers, reaches with his free hand to pull one of Harry’s arms back, firm against the small of his back as he hisses in Harry’s ear, ‘you don’t get to come until I say so. Until I’m balls deep in your arse.’
Harry whines again and pulls against Eggsy restraining hold. It’s pointless, really, his other arm is still free and there aren’t many restraints he couldn’t get out of and Eggsy’s loose grip isn’t one of them but the steely edge to Eggsy’s voice, the certainty he’ll be obeyed, sends a jolt of heat straight to Harry’s dick. He pushes back on to Eggsy’s fingers, tries to fuck himself on them, and moans, begs, ‘please, Eggsy.’ And that is new.
Eggsy must feel the novelty, the strangeness of this reversal because Harry can feel him smile into his skin like he likes it and he bites down on Harry’s shoulder before he urges Harry to turn over onto his back, sprawled wanton in their bed and looking at Eggy from under his lashes.
As Eggsy turns away to grab a condom from the bedside table Harry sees the line of red, half-moon indentations across Eggsy’s shoulders and sits up to go in with his teeth, the skin prickling under his tongue as Eggsy leans into it. The heat in Eggsy’s eyes when he turns back is scorching, a far cry from his usual sweetness, and all Harry wants is to let it burn him, immolating and cleansing.
Eggsy crowds him back against the pillows, pushes Harry’s legs almost to his chest, until Harry’s hamstrings burn, lines his cock up and presses inexorably forward. The pain in Harry’s legs and the stretch of his arse are intoxicating, where their bodies are pressed together it’s sweat slick and sticking, bright points of sensation that have Harry groaning through gritted teeth. Eggsy nips at his ears and whispers like he can’t believe it, ‘let me hear you, Harry.’
‘Fuck me, come on, hard and fast, Eggsy, please ’ he punctuates his words with a scrape of nails down Eggsy’s back. There’ll be scratches there, come morning, sharper and more lasting than the already fading marks on his chest and Harry is giddy at the thought; his marks on Eggsy, visible and invisible, are etched deeply, tying them together, a fist wrapped around his heart.
They begin to move, then, in tandem, Eggsy’s rhythm punishing and all sensation centred on the hot pleasure-pressure radiating from Harry’s balls, his dick, barely touched all evening, licking up his spine until he could swear he feels it prickling across his scalp. Eggsy goes down on his elbows, pulls out till his cock is barely inside, just nudging Harry’s rim wide around the head, before slamming back in and all Harry can do is take it, slurring adoration into Eggsy’s hair.
Eggsy keeps up the pace, screwing into Harry’s body, making the most of his youthful stamina, wild with it, nails digging into Harry’s thighs, teeth to his collarbones. Harry doesn’t know what to do with his hands; hold his knees up, grip the sheets or keep a hold on Eggsy with grounding touches, caresses in counterpoint to the snap forward of his hips. He ends up with his hands behind him, gripping the headboard and when Eggsy looks up and sees that he swears, lowers Harry’s trembling legs around his hips so he can reach up and cover Harry’s hands with his own.
Harry can feel it, like a spark to touch-paper, with Eggsy’s fingers pressing bruises into his wrists and Eggsy’s cock filling him up; his orgasm slams into him as if from a distance, building slowly and suddenly overwhelming. He can’t remember the last time he came with his dick untouched and it seems to bypass the post orgasm oversensitivity for long enough that he can grind his hips down on to Eggsy’s cock, hands to his arse to spur him on to a shuddering halt, Eggsy’s face twisted in pleasure, silent tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
When Harry wakes up the light is the pale blue of early morning and Eggsy is draped over his chest, looking at him with clear eyes, fingers tracing a bruise already forming on Harry’s collarbone.
‘Hello, Harry,’ his smile is brilliant but there’s still something like doubt in the downturned corners of his mouth, ‘sorry, I...’
‘Darling boy, don’t. You don’t have to apologise.’
‘You’re not angry? Last night you seemed a bit like you were.’
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t angry, not with you. This job isn’t always easy or pleasant but we do what must be done. You did what was asked of you. I was angry with myself because I didn’t want to let you and because I enjoyed watching you do it anyway. When I came home, that was...it won’t happen again, if you don’t want.’
‘I liked it. I like it,’ says Eggsy, a whispered confession into Harry’s skin, ‘but I like it the other ways too.’
‘You don’t have to hide from me. If you want something you can ask for it.’
Eggsy presses the bruise on Harry’s chest, ringed with teeth marks, grin turning filthy when Harry hisses at the pain, arches into the touch, ‘same, Harry. God, you’re gorgeous when you’re begging.’
Harry lets himself go pliant under Eggsy touches, gently caressing now, and murmurs, ‘please, Eggsy.’