Chapter Text
Harry likes to distract Eggsy with small, sucking kisses placed on his neck when he wants something: he slips off Eggsy's jacket, which Eggsy always fucking falls for, and then slides his hands down Eggsy's back and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Eggsy's trackies. By the time Eggsy has two brain cells firing together Harry is pulling off Eggsy's undershirt and saying, in a tone of fond disapproval that gets Eggsy furious and aroused all at once, "Darling, I didn't give you those silk pants to save for best."
Eggsy usually regains enough sense at this point to try to push Harry away -- but not too hard, because what if Harry let himself be pushed? "You have to dry clean them," he says. "What use is pants you got to dry clean?"
"Or handwash," says Harry, sliding one long clever hand up and stroking over Eggsy's nipple, which is unfair and also makes Eggsy feel drunk and sweet all over, like he's willing to do anything for Harry if he'll just keep on rubbing his thumb over his nipple, so it goes all electric and tight. "Lazy boy," he adds, a rich undertone of amusement in his voice. "Are you waiting for me to do it for you?"
Eggsy tries to imagine Harry Hart carefully washing out his silk pants, laying them out, smoothing them neat, and doubtless imagining Eggsy in them as he does, and makes a helpless noise in his throat.
"Spoiled, spoiled darling," says Harry, with evident satisfaction, and bites a mark on Eggsy's neck.
When Eggsy regains higher brain function, he's in bed as Harry cleans him up with a soft linen cloth. The bed smells like spunk and sweat and Eggsy would crinkle his nose at it but he feels too good to care.
"Back with me?" says Harry, kissing the hollow of Eggsy's throat. Eggsy's always surprised at how much Harry likes to kiss, not even in a way leading to anything more intense. He's always putting his mouth all over Eggsy's collarbone and shoulder and just under Eggsy's ear, and he shivers every bloody time and Harry chuckles meanly.
"You're terrible," Eggsy tells him.
"You love me," Harry says. He follows it up by pressing his lips against Eggsy's forehead, and Eggsy is reduced to pouting at him. Harry kisses him to make him stop, and it's a very pleasant ten minutes later before Eggsy says, "So what are you wanting this time?"
"Want?" says Harry, wide eyed and innocent. "What would I want but the pleasure of your company in my bed, darling?"
Eggsy just stares at him. He's still riding the endorphin high of Harry fucking him blind but he ain't an idiot. Harry only spends that much time making nice when he wants him to do something like promise to use posh English since a lord is coming through to tour the more or else public bits of Kingsman, or make pasta and cheese for Harry without telling Roxy about how low Harry's taste is so that Roxy can't tell Merlin and Merlin can't make a laughingstock of Harry over it.
Harry sighs, less fondly, and leans over Eggsy to the bedside table. He pulls open the drawer and takes out a white envelope.
He hands it to Eggsy, who looks at the heavy paper of it and the calligraphy -- obviously done by hand -- and raises both eyebrows. Harry makes a gesture with his hand -- go on, open it -- and Eggsy pulls the heavy invitation card out and looks at it. "Are you having me on," he says flatly.
"No," says Harry, with a disapproving look.
"This is a class reunion invite," says Eggsy.
"And I hope," says Harry, like this isn't the fucking weirdest thing he's ever said, up to and including 'by the by your dad nearly got recruited into a secret spy agency -- would you like to join it as well, dear boy?', "that you will be so kind as to join me there."
"You're off your nut," says Eggsy.
"You're off your nut," says Roxy.
"Yes, I know, ta," says Eggsy, grimly straightening his tie.
"I hope he's a beast in the sack," says Roxy, "because --"
"I fucking know!" says Eggsy loudly. "I can't bloody believe he talked me into it either."
There's a gunshot and Eggsy ducks down before grabbing one of the corpses they're surrounded by, and heaving it up against the window. He makes the hand of the corpse wave while Roxy reloads.
"Focus, children," says Merlin from their glasses.
Roxy rolls her eyes and shoves up beside Eggsy and the corpse. Eggsy lets it drop -- several bullet holes later -- and Roxy fires.
"Well done, Lancelot," says Merlin. "Gawain, eyes in front, you have incoming at ten and four o'clock."
"Got it," says Eggsy, as he relieves another corpse of it's rocket launcher and fires. Roxy follows up with another rifle shot and there's no time to talk until they're running for the helicopter at the pickup point.
"He'd better make this up to you," says Roxy. "My last reunion was girls all flashing diamond rings at each other until I thought I'd go mad."
"Oh, he is," says Eggsy.
Harry had tried to negotiate, actually, but Eggsy had the power and both of them knew it. Still, Harry put in a worthy effort, starting with more kisses on the nape of Eggsy's neck and a softly murmured, "please, dearest?"
Eggsy found he was rather enjoying himself. He tilted his head back to allow Harry better access and said, "You still haven't said what it's worth to you."
"Huggles' face when I walk in with you on my arm," said Harry baldly. "He's gone through five wives and the last one is an infant with plastic tits. Every time I see him he's wanting to know why I haven't found the love of my life yet." He nuzzled at Eggsy's throat.
"So I'm a trophy wife?" said Eggsy.
"Dearest, darling boy," said Harry, "you are the most precious thing I have ever had." He punctuated it with a kiss on Eggsy's shoulder.
Which was very flattering, but Eggsy was not going to let Harry get away with it. "A month of JB sleeping on the bed," he said, "Twenty blow jobs, and -- " he hesitated, trying to think of something suitably outrageous "-- and," he concluded triumphantly, "the next five times I wears trainers and trackies you don't say a word."
Harry pulled away. "Eggsy, really," he said.
"Not even if they're the winged ones," said Eggsy.
"Two weeks of the dog on the bed," bargained Harry.
"It ain't me who wants the favor, luv," said Eggsy. "You can talk about how handsome and fit I am without me there."
Harry gritted his teeth. Eggsy smirked at him. He knew, and Harry knew, that if Harry got into the habit of letting JB sleep on the bed, JB would be on the bed every night until he died of spoiled old age. "Three weeks and I lay your clothes out that night," he said.
"Hmm," said Eggsy. "See, that sounds like another favor for you, you old pervert."
Harry bit him.