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On second thought, Eggsy Unwin and company probably could have gone without the fifth pub in their “Eggsy’s Quarter-Century Birthday Bash.” They didn’t properly pace themselves back at their first stop, Brewdom of Ales, because Charlie and Jamal had a miscommunication about who was buying the first round and they got saddled with several rounds of tequila shots, not that anyone was complaining at the time. They kept their buzz going at their next stop, Hail Ale, with a couple rounds of beers. At Knight Light, they ate dinner, more or less sober, then started back on the hard stuff again at their fourth pub, Little Stacy’s, where a significant amount of time was spent on darts and an open tab under Roxy’s boyfriend’s credit. Needless to say, they managed to stumble the couple blocks to their current location, the Black Prince, where a waitress comes over to them even though they have half full glasses of beer with a tray of what looks like five helpings of Irish Car Bombs.
“Whassat?” Eggsy yells loudly, swaying dangerously in his seat. His pink, store-bought, paper crown reading “Birthday Boy” nearly slips off his head. He steadies it carefully, sticking his tongue out in concentration. His mates gave it to him and he ain’t losing it.
“A round of Irish Car Bombs,” the waitress replies, leaning in slightly. Eggsy looks up at her in confusion. She grins at him, and he grins back.
“We di’n order that, luv,” he says because as much as he enjoys free booze, he got into a bar fight over that once. and he’d rather avoid accidentally receiving another patron’s orders with open arms.
“It’s from the gentleman over there,” replies the waitress, pointing over her shoulder. Eggsy tries to follow her finger, but it dropped before his eyes could track it. The bar is completely filled with people. Most of them are men with suits on, as it’s a Thursday night and its either the pub or home. None of them are looking in his direction, so he can’t say for sure who it is.
“Err….” Now, Eggsy knows he’s pissed. He learned his limits and exceeded them back in Cambridge, so being drunk off his arse is nothing new. He also knows that he can finish his pint and maybe get away with one more drink before he’s making a raucous or somehow getting involved in a fight, but he certainly can’t handle six more cocktails of Irish alcohol.
“Invite him over,” he tells her with an easy smile. “He shan’t be shy. My mates are all cut off an’ I don’ wanna waste his drinks. Roxy,” he gestures to the young woman across from him, head pillowed in her arms on the table, “she’s done. Fuckin’ lightweight –“
“Fuck you!”
“- and Jamal’s over there,” he points to a corner now, where a lanky bloke is making out with a busty redhead, “he’ll regret that in the mornin’. Ryan left to drunk dial his girl, and Charlie’s,” Eggsy looks around, confused, until he finds his tall, handsome friend deep in animated conversation with another group of blokes, “well, he can drink more, but we’ll need some help.”
“I’ll invite him, then,” the waitress says, setting down the drinks. She disappears and Eggsy takes two sets to Charlie, who takes one set carefully out of Eggsy’s hands. They count to three, drop the shots of Bailey’s and whiskey into the Guinness, and drink as fast as they can.
“Fuck!” Charlie exclaims when he finishes behind Eggsy. Eggsy laughs and thumps him on the back. He returns to his table with Roxy and puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Gimme your phone!”
Roxy picks her head up. Eggsy shoves a glass of water at her and takes her purse when she drinks greedily from the glass. He finds her phone and puts in the passcode just as someone approaches them, Eggsy looks up and nearly drops the phone because Jesus Christ Almighty.
“May I join you?” the middle aged man asks, umbrella in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other. Eggsy gapes because he’s seen a lot of dapper, older men in his life but ones with thick, chocolate brown hair and a slim build accentuated by a finely made bespoke suit is like finding a fuckin’ unicorn in a swamp where one can expect to find nothing but hippos and water buffalos. Maybe its just Eggsy’s drunk goggles, because as bad as Ryan’s are, Eggsy’s are not much better off, but this man had got to be the most handsome man to walk out of a wet dream of a posh teenaged girl with daddy issues.
“Y-yes! Please, by all means.” Eggsy stares and stares until the man smiles at him and puts his glass on the table. He holds out his hand.
“My name is Harry. Happy Birthday.”
Eggsy shakes his hand, his palm suddenly sweaty, and for a moment he considers pulling him forward and pushing their mouths together, maybe sweeping off all the glasses off the table, shoving Harry onto it, and climbing on top of him, or getting on his knees in front of him with some quip about a birthday shag. So many fuckin’ possibilities.
“Eggsy,” Eggsy says, still clutching onto Harry’s hand. Harry lets him hang onto it with a pleasant smile, and its only after maybe two whole minutes that Eggsy remembers that he’s still holding onto another man’s hand and lets it go, laughing shyly. “And ‘fanks,” he adds. “For the drinks.”
“You’re very welcome,” Harry replies, sitting on the stool and picking up his glass. Roxy lifts her head and squints at him. Eggsy quickly finds Merlin in Roxy’s contacts then dials the number. It picks up after the second ring.
“Roxy?”
“Nah, bruv, I’s me. Can you –“
“Eggsy? Is Roxy alright?”
“Yeah, she’s good. Can you come get her? We’re at - “
Roxy reaches up and tries to wrestle the mobile away from him. Eggsy leans his head out of the way and holds her back with his other hand, careful not to let her fall.
“What the fuck, Eggsy!” she shouts, angry. Eggsy knows she’s going to kill him tomorrow but Eggsy can’t take care of her, and Merlin’s best at that when he’s not in the doghouse for something or other.
“Black Prince!” Eggsy manages to get in before Roxy stands and takes the phone from Eggsy and shouts into it, “Don’t you dare come!” and hangs up. She huffs and reaches for an unfinished beer. Eggsy gently takes her wrists. He forgot what an angry drunk she can be when she’s in a pit.
“Hey, luv, how ‘bout some water?” Eggsy coaxes, taking the only other non-alcoholic substance filled glass there. Roxy sits on her stool with a sob and starts to cry. Eggsy gives her the glass and helps her drink between hiccups. He shoots Harry an apologetic look. “She’s got issues with her boyfriend,” he explains. Harry finishes his drink and sets the glass aside.
“I’m sorry,” he says. Roxy lowers the glass, her eye makeup smudged.
“D-don’t apologize for that arsehole,” she says. Then to Eggsy, “God, I’m an awful friend. Drink up, yeah. It’s your fuckin’ birthday!”
Eggsy glances over at Harry, who looks pointedly at the four sets of Irish Car Bombs, and honestly, he’s only twenty-five once.
“Fuck yeah, it is!”
--
There are only three times in Eggsy’s life he’s ever regretted waking up. The first was the morning after his eighteenth birthday. He woke up behind some bushes in Hyde Park because a dog was licking his face. The second was during Cambridge; it was after a house party that he woke up on the floor underneath a beer pong table. He had four inexplicable bruises on his thighs and a black eye. The third is this morning, with the worst hangover in his life and feeling like he decided to have a go against a train.
One side of his face is mashed into the softest, fluffiest pillow he’s ever felt, and that’s when he realizes he isn’t at home. The sheets are warm and silky against his skin, and loathe as he is to leave them, the nauseating urge to throw up is starting to creep up in his throat, and then there’s the fact at that he’s in a strange bed. The more he tries to remember what happened the night before, the more his head pounds and his stomach roils in protest.
He pushes himself up onto his elbows and groans at the ache in his lower back and thighs. He’s naked, so he knows he had sex, and that wouldn’t be alarming if his stomach weren’t itching with dried come. Holy shit. He looks over beside him and sees the broad back of a man with messy, dark brown hair and there are scratches on his pale skin stretched over sinews of muscle. By the look of his companion and the ache in his body, Eggsy can accurately deduce that he had the best birthday sex of his entire life, and he couldn’t even remember it.
“Fuck!” Eggsy curses softly. He slowly slides out of bed and starts searching for his clothes, his vision swimming dangerously. He finds his boxers, jeans, shirt, and jacket in the bedroom. He has enough presence of mind to feel for his phone, wallet and keys, which are zipped up safe in his jacket pocket. His shoes and socks are missing, and Eggsy would leave them if it weren’t in the middle of spring and didn’t need them to traverse outside.
He tiptoes downstairs, not paying attention to anything but finding his shoes. He finds one flung behind the couch and the other by the door. Eggsy slips them on and leaves through the front door, careful to make a little noise as possible. Once he’s in the clear, he dashes for the main road before his headache and nausea cause him to bend over next to another house and throw up.
Somehow, he manages to get a cab. The cab ride is a blur. Getting into his house is a blur. He thinks he hears his family in the dining room but ignores them in favor of going upstairs to his room. He sheds his jacket, drinks from the bathroom faucet, and promptly passes out at the toilet after throwing up again.
He’s too old to be drinking this much.
--
It’s probably a few hours later when Eggsy next wakes up, this time because the maid is gently shaking him awake. She has a glass of water and two pills in her hands. Eggsy takes the pills and finishes the water. The water acts almost immediately in making him feel halfway human.
“Thank you, Ms. Brown,” he croaks, throat sore from vomiting and who knows what else after the night Eggsy had.
“You’re welcome, Master Eggsy,” she says kindly. “May I bring you anything else?”
“Please order the greasiest thing from Kay’s Diner for delivery,” he rasps, moving to stand. She helps him up.
“Only if you promise to shower,” she replies with a wrinkle in her nose. Eggsy reaches into the shower stall and turns on the spray. Even he can smell himself and knows she’s being delicate.
He takes off his shirt once he’s alone and sees marks all over his chest. He steps in front of the mirror and studies the hickeys along his neck, shoulder, and pecs with growing alarm. There are also marks on his inner thighs and bruises shaped like nails on his hips. His abdomen and pubic hair are crusted in white. He’s vaguely aware of lube along the cleft of his arse to create a damp spot on his boxers. He nearly trips over himself as he strips all the way down and runs into the shower in his hurry to get clean. The least the guy could have done was wipe him down after. That’s like, common decency.
He spends about twenty minutes scrubbing his body with soap and a washcloth and washing his hair. Afterwards, he brushes his teeth and carefully restudies the marks on his body, trying to see if touching each one will jog his memory. The best he can come up with is stumbling with Roxy and Jamal under each arm into the last pub, the name of which he can’t even recall.
Slipping on a pair of sleep pants and a turtle neck, he goes downstairs into the dining room where his meal of sausages, potatoes hash, and scrambled eggs await him. There’s also a glass of orange juice and water, and he tucks into his food with a happy groan. He eats quickly and loudly, his body slowly coming back online. By the time he’s done, he feels as good as new.
He searches for his phone and plugs it into the wall to charge as he turns it on (it died overnight). He sees he has texts from all his mates, and starts with the least recent one first.
Jamal [11:20p] Happy Birthday again! I’ll call u tomorrow.
Merlin [11:40p] Roxy’s home. Enjoy your night.
Roxy [12:03a] i fuvki g haye u
Roxy [12:04a] hae fu thoig
Charlie [1:39a] Practice safe sex! I have his pic in case I don’t see you again
Charlie [1:40a] You won’t see this until morning but you are in safe hands, I think.
Charlie [1:45a] I got Ryan. He’ll thank me later.
Charlie [1:45a] Happy Birthday!! ;)
Eggsy puts his head in his hands and groans.
--
Everyone was still recovering on Friday (Eggsy) and at work (the others) so they get together for a late lunch on Saturday at restaurant in Kensington. Charlie has the highest tolerance for alcohol out of the lot of them, so he relays the night to them in startling detail. When he gets to Eggsy’s ‘friend’ he lowers his voice secretively and nudges Eggsy’s shin under the table with his foot.
“How was your requisite birthday shag?” he teases. Everyone stares at Eggsy, who swallows more of his pint and shrugs.
“I remember shit all,” he grouses. “I just ran the fuck outta his house. I nearly died on the way home, by the way,” he embellishes as an afterthought.
“That bloke was a riot,” Charlie says excitedly. “God, and you were all over him. I have some pictures….”
“NO!” Eggsy yells just as Roxy screams, “Yes, Charlie!” and makes grabby hands at his phone. Charlie hands his iPhone to her, and Jamal and Ryan lean over her to see the pictures. Eggsy doesn’t look right away because he wants to keep his dignity for as long as he can.
“It was irresponsible of you to leave me in that kind of state, Charlie,” Eggsy mock scolds. “You’d let Little Red Riding Hood enter the Wolf’s den, wouldn’t you?” Charlie rolls his eyes.
“I’d hardly say you were Little Red Riding Hood in that analogy. More like Slutty, Totally Going for What He Wants Riding Hood.”
Eggsy scowls just as Roxy, Jamal, and Ryan all start laughing, still looking at the mobile screen. Charlie leans back in his seat, enjoying the spectacle.
“Mate, I tried, believe me to drag you away,” Charlie finally says conciliatory. “I’ve never seen you throw yourself at someone before. Are you a slutty drunk?”
“What? No, ‘course not,” Eggsy mutters, his cheeks growing hot. He isn’t a horny drunk. He is a happy, sappy, and energetic drunk (or so he’s been told) who makes friends with everyone. And he doesn’t throw himself at anyone. Yeah, he flirts – he’s a flirty drunk, who the fuck isn’t? When Roxy shoves Charlie’s iPhone in front of his face, Eggsy balks with shame but his curiosity gets the best of him.
There’s Eggsy, practically leaning into the – very hot, holy shit – gentleman and making googly eyes at him as the older man drinks coolly from his pint. Then Roxy kindly swipes right, and there’s one of Eggsy wearing a blue and pink striped tie on his head, just below his birthday crown, with the other man looking bemusedly at him, the first two buttons of his collar undone and his hair slightly disheveled. The third picture shows Eggsy whispering into the man’s ear, his hand fiddling with the button of his gent’s shirt, and the older brunet has his face turned towards Eggsy, one large hand curled possessively over Eggsy’s wrist.
Eggsy swallows thickly. Yeah, Eggsy was really, really into the man last night; Charlie wasn’t exaggerating. “What’s his name again?” he chokes out.
“Harry,” Charlie supplies helpfully. “Didn’t offer a last name,” he adds with a shrug. Roxy gives him his mobile back.
“Well you wasn’t totally useless since he’s hot as shit,” Eggsy says, finally accepting his behavior and going for levity. Charlie bows his head in self-congratulation.
“Didn’t know you like the daddy types,” Ryan comments teasingly. Eggsy throws a crumpled napkin at him.
“Fuck off.”
“Learned that from Roxy, most likely,” Jamal rejoins with a laugh.
“I can’t even be angry about that,” Roxy says proudly, biting into her eggs benedict.
“Shit,” Eggsy says, running a hand through his hair, “I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, but what are the chances I’ll run into him again?”
--
Monday morning. Monday morning is when Eggsy will run into his birthday shag partner again, in the glaring, sober light of midmorning, and his name will be Harry Hart, and he’ll be even sexier in person than Eggsy thought because Eggsy’s body certainly remembers him just fine, and it flushes hot at the sight of long fingered hands and broad, powerful shoulders, tapering down to a narrow hips and ending on the note of long, long legs. Eggsy will be in a board room with his father and oh, say, ten other associates, and his prick will decide to join in on the meeting because, it thinks it was also invited, which it wasn’t, at least not intentionally.
“Mr. Hart, a pleasure to see you again,” Lee Unwin says pleasantly enough while shaking Harry’s hand, but Eggsy knows his father, and Lee is anything but pleased to see Harry Hart. “This is my son, Gary. He’ll be joining us today, if that is alright?”
Harry’s chocolate brown eyes alight on him, and if any recognition passes through them, Eggsy doesn’t see it. He gives Eggsy a polite smile and holds out his hand. Eggsy stares at it and licks his lips. “Certainly not. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Unwin the younger.”
Eggsy remembers he’s supposed to make eye contact and give a firm handshake, but he fails in the former and succeeds in the latter only because he wants to pull him in close (that’s a familiar thought), so he says, “L-likewise, Mr. Hart,” and clears his throat, glancing up at him with a shy smile. Harry lets go, and Eggsy immediately does the same, though more flinchingly. Lee quirks a questioning brow at his son and thankfully rescues the awkward introduction.
“Have you been able to review the contract?”
They all sit down at the mahogany table large enough to seat fifty people and begin to talk shop. Eggsy is supposed to be paying attention if he wants to someday run the company, but he’s too busy staring at Harry’s mouth, his hands, his signet ring, his hair, and the way his dark blue pinstripe suit fits him like lingerie. Eggsy can smell the spicy scent of him even from across the table, and he imagines what his father’s reaction would be if he climbs on top of the table, falls into Harry’s lap, and starts to rip open Harry’s suit. It does little to deter the downward spiral of Eggsy’s thoughts as Lee would probably encourage it if it won them the contract –
-because it seems like they are losing the contract.
“Mr. Hart,” Lee says evenly, though the way he links his fingers together on the table shows his growing trepidation, “our client has showed you his books, and while Mr. King offers a higher down payment and a share in his stock, we believe our client will be more profitable in the long run. We insist you ask to take a look at Mr. King’s financials.”
“Mr. King owns international hotels and has a sterling reputation,” Harry argues politely. “Regardless of what you think his current financial situation is, he has enough collateral to cover sufficiently the real estate in question with funds to spare. If his project should ever run out of capital, which I doubt, your client may buy the contract then.”
“Mr. King also plans to destroy most of the landscape as well as drive out the local businesses in the area. Even though our client is small, our analysts have predicted that – “
“I’m sorry, Mr. Unwin, but we seem to be going around in circles,” Harry cuts in. “We had this exact discussion on Friday. I’ve reviewed your client’s books as requested and have given much consideration to his uninteresting reports on the perceived negative impact Mr. King’s contract will have. My decision is still the same. I will have to decline your client’s offer at this time.” Harry stands, and his two associates do as well. “I can see myself out. Good day,” he says, inclining his head respectfully. He glances briefly at Eggsy and walks out. Once the conference room doors close behind him, Lee slams his hand on the table and curses.
“Goddamn prick,” he murmurs angrily. Eggsy stares, still processing what happened since he mentally checked out, as their associates begin to murmur among themselves. He looks at where Harry sat and notices the handle of his umbrella. He’d forgotten it.
“Be right back,” Eggsy says, darting around the table (why is it so damn long?) and grabbing the curved handle of the umbrella. He runs out of the conference room and jogs down the open office spaces towards the elevators. He sees Harry just about to step into the lift. “Mr. Hart!” he calls out. Harry elegantly steps back out. Eggsy catches up to him and holds out the umbrella.
“You forgot this,” he says with a small smile. Harry takes it.
“Thank you, Mr. Unwin.” He turns to go back into the elevator, but something in Eggsy compels him to stop him. Maybe it was the way Harry briefly glanced at Eggsy’s neck, as if he could see the fading bruisse he’d placed underneath the collar of Eggsy’s suit.
“Eggsy, please,” Eggsy says. Harry looks at him questioningly. “My real name’s Gary, but I like to be called Eggsy.” He looks meaningfully at Harry. Harry blinks, slowly, then turns to his associates who have been holding the elevator for the past two minutes.
“I’ll take the next one. See you back at the office,” he says with a tone of finality. The lift doors close when the woman removes her hand. Harry turns back to Eggsy.
“Can you spare the time to accompany me for a cup of coffee?” Harry asks blithely, but his eyes trail to Eggsy’s chest, and Eggsy calls for the lift with a slight swagger because Harry isn’t the only one who can rock a bespoke suit.
“Sure, bruv,” he says, cockney accent taking over. He suppresses a shiver at the way Harry’s eyes darken. “But only if you’re payin’.” The lift doors open on the other side to an empty car. Eggsy’s heart leaps excitedly as he steps inside.
“It’s only appropriate since I invited you,” Harry replies smoothly, getting in after him. The doors close, and the lift moves barely a meter before Eggsy presses the stop button. Never one to waste time, Eggsy turns to him and starts loosening his tie. Harry watches but doesn’t move except for the tightening on his grip around his umbrella.
“Don’t act like you’re a gentleman,” Eggsy says, now unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. “You know goddamn well you left your fuckin’ umbrella on purpose.”
The corner of Harry’s mouth curves up, amused. “You can’t prove that,” he replies innocently. Eggsy wouldn’t think he’s having an effect on the older man if Harry’s trousers weren’t tenting so nicely. Eggsy’s mouth waters, his tongue suddenly desperate for something hot and heavy to slide against.
“I can try,” Eggsy says, stepping closer to Harry. This close, he can smell Harry’s aftershave, and its so familiar that it goes straight to Eggsy’s cock. God, he’s practically leaking at this point. Harry would probably just have to align his fingertips on the bruises on Eggsy’s hip,s and Eggsy would shoot his load all over himself and the lift floor. He shivers. Harry takes a shuddering breath.
“You are even more beautiful than I remember,” Harry suddenly whispers, eyes hungrily drinking in Eggsy’s exposed chest and the few, exposed yellow bruises. Eggsy swallows thickly. “I was devastated when I found you gone from my bed. I thought I’d dreamt our night together.”
“I thought you a cruel man,” Eggsy retorts, “leaving me covered in come and love bites like I was some kind of harlot. You should’ve cleaned me up and fallen asleep holding me. ‘s your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Harry concedes weakly. “I thought I’d left you exhausted enough. You’re a greedily little thing, wouldn’t shut up unless I had you on your back or on your knees, and even then you were still begging for more until I fucked the breath out of you. Do you remember how many times you came undone at my mouth, my hands, on my cock? Take a guess.”
Eggsy’s trembling now, his breathing shallow and skin flushed hot. Harry’s merciless and sadistic, asking Eggsy to recall something he desperately wants to but can’t. “Fuck, I can’t remember,” he whimpers, “I’m so sorry, Harry. Shit. Please, I want you. I want you so bad. I’ll remember you this time. I promise. I won’t run away. Please, Harry. Kiss me. Touch me. Anything.”
Harry’s umbrella clatters to the floor as he reaches for Eggsy and pulls him into a ravenous, unyielding kiss. Eggsy surges against him with a moan, his hands coming up into Harry’s hair, tugging as he opens his mouth and lets Harry’s tongue inside. Harry removes his glasses when they start getting skewed and drops them somewhere. Eggsy gasps as Harry’s mouth trails lower, biting new marks into Eggsy’s neck, and Eggsy mews.
“Yes, Harry,” he cries, grinding their hips together. “Nngh, fucking hell.”
Harry spins him around and pushes him against the wall. He starts undoing Eggsy’s trousers. The expensive fabric falls to the floor along with Eggy’s boxers. Harry’s calloused hands roam over the smooth mounds of Eggsy’s bum possessively.
“You have an amazing arse,” Harry says almost reverently.
“’fanks,” Eggsy says cheekily. It’s not the first time he’s gotten complimented on it. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He fumbles with it and finally pulls out a condom and lube. Harry nips the back of his neck.
“Noticed they were gone last time,” Eggsy says breathlessly.
“I’ll take the lube,” Harry says, “I have my own condom.”
“Mine not good enough? It’s ribbed for my pleasure.”
“Oh dear boy, did I not leave your arse sore enough to remember me by? Though I did spend a lot of time working you open and pliant to receive me.”
Eggsy bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Fuck! Fuck, Harry. Get in me. Hurry the fuck up.” His cock his straining now, leaking dangerously, and he’s going to come soon just at the thought of Harry’s huge dick inside him, and what is he, a teenager again? Harry chuckles against his ear, followed by the sound of wrappers being opened, and Eggsy can practically hear the condom being rolled onto a cock and lube slicking over skin over his harsh breathing.
“Put yours on if you want to avoid a mess,” Harry says offhandedly. He rubs his fingers over Eggsy’s entrance and carefully pushes a finger inside. Eggsy pushes back even as the intrusion burns a little.
“Too late for that,” Eggsy huffs. “Know a good dry cleaner?”
“Mm, that I do,” Harry hums against the back of Eggsy’s neck. “Relax more, darling.”
“Give me anuvver,” Eggsy demands, “we don’t have time, and I’m about to come, so move it along, old man.”
”Mind your manners,” Harry chides lazily, adding a second finger, “or I’ll leave you like this.”
“The fuck you will.”
Harry kisses along the nape of Eggsy’s neck and sucks a mark onto his skin. He wraps his hand tightly around the base of Eggsy’s cock and adds a third finger. Eggsy arches and cries out, his body taut with denied orgasm, and he nearly sobs with pain when Harry brushes against his prostate. Harry continues to scissor his fingers for a few more minutes before pulling them out. He uses both hands to spread Eggsy’s cheeks then he’s pressing inside. Eggsy, starving for it at this point, relaxes as best he can. The head of Harry’s cock slips in and Eggsy shudders as Harry grips his hips, his fingertips resting right over their fading imprints.
“So tight, Eggsy,” Harry gasps out, his voice sounding shattered. “Are you alright?”
“Y-yes,” Eggsy stutters. “Harry, please keep going. Let me feel you.” Harry continues to ease his way in, and Eggsy drops his head as the pain and pleasure war with his sensory output and create a combination that makes Eggsy want to pull away and push back, all at once, but mostly push back with a keening whine. He can feel Harry straining behind him to keep himself from slamming inside, and although Eggsy appreciates the consideration, he wants this too badly to go slow. Harry makes little thrusts until he’s finally, finally buried as deep as he can go.
Eggsy is about to open his mouth and demand that Harry moves but Harry beats him to it, thrusting shallowly at first then deeper and harder. Eggsy quakes against him, and when he begins brushing against Eggsy’s prostate, Eggsy arches his back and spreads his legs wider.
“Right there, keep fucking me right there, Harry,” Eggsy begs, the angle causing sparks to fly up his spine and precum to ooze from his cock and drip to the floor. His forearms are pressed against the wall and his arms shake with the effort to keep his cheek or forehead from marring the carpeted surface.
“I have no plans on stopping, dear boy,” Harry growls, thrusts getting harder. “Not until you’re redecorating the wall in front of you.” Eggsy moans.
“Harry,” he gasps, “shhiiiit.” Eggsy buries his face in the crook of his elbow and comes with a choked off cry, his cock pulsing untouched and indeed coating the wall with splashes of his thick, white essence. Eggsy forgets to breathe as his orgasm rips through him, his entire body shuddering. Harry’s thrusts become faster, more erratic.
“Fuck Eggsy,” Harry groans, burying himself as deep as he can go and finding his release, pulling Eggsy’s hips harshly back. Eggsy swears he can feel Harry’s cock pulsing inside him and thinks it’s a terrible shame that they’re not going bareback. Harry leans his forehead against the back of Eggsy’s neck as he catches his breath. Eggsy lets out a contented sigh.
“I can’t believe I couldn’t remember you fuckin’ me,” Eggsy says mournfully. “What if I never saw you again?” Harry’s chuckle near his ear makes him shiver, his cock twitching feebly. Harry carefully lets go of him and pulls out. Eggsy hisses at the loss.
“I’d have found you again eventually,” Harry replies calmly. He wipes his silk pocket square along the inside of Eggsy’s thighs to clean up any excess lube and goes through the trouble of with pulling Eggsy’s boxers and trousers up for him. Eggsy lets out a quiet laugh.
“I guess you are a proper gent,” he muses as Harry carefully fastens his trousers. When Eggsy finally turns around, Harry is picking up his glasses. Eggsy steps up to him and reaches up to smooth Harry’s hair back into place. Once he’s satisfied, he presses the ‘stop’ button again on the elevator. It jolts back into motion. Eggsy picks up Harry’s umbrella but doesn’t return it to him.
The elevator ride down the next forty six floors is amusing, to say the least. It gets crowded enough by the thirtieth floor so Eggsy has to stand flush against Harry, and if anyone else noticed the thick smell of sex, they don’t mention it, but the few confused, wandering glances had Eggsy shaking with the effort to fight back his laughs.
Once they reach the ground floor, Eggsy walks out of the lift and building, expecting Harry to follow. He doesn’t look back until he’s two blocks away, opening the door to his favorite café. Harry steps into the establishment in front of him.
They order coffee, and Eggsy makes Harry buy him a chocolate croissant.
“D’you know where my birthday hat went?” Eggsy asks once they find their seats. There are only a couple of other people sitting at the small tables.
“I have it,” Harry replies.
“Good. I want it back.”
“You’ll have to take it from me.”
Eggsy smirks. “Fair enough. Would later tonight be amenable to you?”
Harry takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes briefly focusing on Eggsy’s lips streaked with flakes of chocolate. “Very.”