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The first time, everything happens too quickly.
It’s been months of tension, building since the very first time they spoke outside the police station. Months of almost touches and lingering looks and vanishing personal space and then a mass murderer, a head shot, and a light coma shoved them rudely apart to start the process all over again.
Thank god nothing is more intimate than saving someone's life. Blood is seeping onto skin, and he hears harsh pants of “Don’t you FUCKING do this to me, Harry, not now, fuck, not again—” pressed hot against his neck. Trembling fingers tearing bandages in a helicopter while the world sounds like it’s being ripped apart at the seams behind them, and the smudge of red high on Eggsy’s cheekbone makes his bottle-green eyes stand out in even brighter contrast. Sighs of relief in the medical intake room become shared breaths when Eggsy is suddenly pressing his mouth to Harry's, impetuous and sweet and it may not be the time or place for it but Harry can't be arsed to care.
***
Merlin has the good grace to clear out quickly, with a muttered "About damn time," and between the heated press of Harry's lips on his, Eggsy notices his glasses feed has been disabled. A distant part of his mind registers that Merlin really is the guvnor but then Harry's hand is hot at his hip and he's pulling Eggsy over to the sterile white bed against the wall and perception becomes blurred with desire.
It's clumsy and messy. Eggsy's trying not to pull Harry's stitches as he's maneuvered onto the bed, laying down along Harry's side, but Harry keeps dragging him closer with desperate little tugs at Eggsy's torn and sooty clothes. After pushing Eggsy's trousers and pants down, he's wrapping his fingers around Eggsy's cock and stroking quick and hot while Eggsy shudders and moans into Harry's throat. Harry seems determined to break Eggsy apart, and the only thing Eggsy wants more than that is for Harry to join him, broken and fucked out and so blissfully alive, together. He pivots Harry back so he can work Harry's blood-stained trousers down and then pulls him to lay on his side so they're face to face with Eggsy's hand curled around both their erections. When Harry huffs a groan at the slide of their cocks together, Eggsy captures his mouth in a kiss that surges in the same rhythm as the steady roll of his hips.
Harry's blood is still drying under Eggsy's fingernails when he makes Harry come, with a twist of his wrist and a broken "please, Harry--" whispered into the older man's ear. The feel of Harry's come, slick and hot, spreading over his own cock is too much, and he follows with his own release, his hips bucking with a gasp.
"I'm here," Harry soothes, kissing the corner of Eggsy's mouth as he keens softly. "I've got you, I’m alright, I'm here, Eggsy." And Eggsy is trembling, clinging to Harry desperately with panicked hiccuping breaths caught in his throat, as if afraid they're both going to shatter into pieces. All Harry can do is rub soft circles against Eggsy's hip and kiss his forehead reverently as Eggsy comes back to himself. "You're alright, I've got you, shh, my darling, I've got you."
***
Later, when Eggsy encounters Merlin on the way to the dining room, he gives a small nod as his cheeks turn crimson, and Merlin just shakes his head in what is probably faux exasperation. Probably.
***
Harry's not surprised by much. It can be a lethal mistake, after all, and his instincts are honed to anticipate every scenario, to plan, to execute.
But he never could have anticipated Eggsy.
There's something unexpected about the way he wakes up next to Harry, bed-warm and clinging. The way the late morning sun falls on the tiny freckles dappling his shoulders, making words like "home" spring to Harry's mind unbidden. The way he kisses away toast crumbs left at the corner of Harry's mouth and his laughter rings out bright and clear when Harry pulls him into his lap for a proper kiss. The way Eggsy sobs Harry's name when he comes, like he's afraid that if he finally shuts his eyes and lets go, he'll never see Harry again.
He always tries to keep his eyes open, the cords of his neck straining and his chest rising and falling with gasping breaths as Harry wrings pleasure from his body ruthlessly. It twists something red and raw inside Harry to see Eggsy fight so hard, to clutch at Harry in those moments, as if after all this time he still can't quite let himself trust that Harry is here in flesh and blood. It never fails to grab Harry by the throat and squeeze, the vulnerability of it all, how Eggsy allows himself to be so open that he trusts in Harry more than his own mind.
He could not have foreseen that the hardest part of resurrection is chasing away the ghosts that took up residence in his absence.
Most surprising of all is the way, for the first time in 50 years, Harry finds himself rolling over in the middle of the night and feeling a current of discomfort run through him when his hand brushes over nothing but the cool expanse of the other side of the bed.
***
When it comes to Harry, Eggsy is a summer storm. He wakes in the morning slowly, swimming up to consciousness with half-formed thoughts of Harry pinning him down, wanting, taking. He lays there barely awake with heat, thick and humid, building at the base of his spine until he touches Harry’s skin and there’s that electric surge that lights them both up and Eggsy understands miracles. He can’t stop touching, not now that he’s allowed; it’s restless, light skims of his fingertips over the sloping curve of Harry’s hip, across the flat planes of his stomach, a light scratch of nails over Harry’s chest, catching on a nipple. He can’t stop cataloguing the miles of skin covered up by sheets and blankets, skin that flushes beautifully under Eggsy’s touch, and when he rolls into Harry's side his mouth is hot and insistent, mapping every inch of skin he can reach with his teeth and tongue. “Please,” he says as Harry stretches into the touch. “Please.”
As though Harry could deny him anything.
There's little prep, because Eggsy's too impatient for it and he's still soft and loosened from the night before. Every time it's like this--Eggsy wants to take his time, to savor. He thinks sometimes about what it would be like to have Harry spread out before him, slick and open and grasping, ready for his cock, but when the reality of a naked Harry is presented to him, all Eggsy wants is to be surrounded, to be filled, to let Harry take control of the storm inside him. They both need it that way, at least for now. Eggsy knows this from the way Harry's muscles are shifting under his palms to pull Eggsy closer into the pocket of heat they've created. It's so easy and right to spread his legs and welcome it, as he does all he can to feel Harry as close as possible. When Harry nuzzles against his throat and slowly enters him with a soft "Eggsy..." it makes something raw and urgent claw its way through him, because he still doesn't believe he deserves to have this.
He clings, starved for more, more sensation, more skin, more heat, more Harry. If he could, Eggsy would let his chest crack open to spill how MUCH he loves this man out onto the sheets so Harry could see, and maybe begin to understand. Instead, he digs fingertips into the small of Harry's back and tilts his hips up, letting Harry thrust deeper inside him. The rhythm catches, and Harry is murmuring an endless stream of endearments against Eggsy's neck that make him burn until he begins to quake and gasp for breath, the thunder rolling through his blood when he finally comes.
***
Sometimes when Harry wakes first, he stays in bed, letting Eggsy curl around him, a human comma, with his head resting on Harry's chest and a leg tangled up between Harry's. He's got paperwork to do, JB needs feeding, and they have a tech debrief with Merlin in a few hours but he can't bring himself to feel any sort of urgency about it when Eggsy is sleepily letting out warm puffs of air against his chest and rubbing his thumb back and forth slowly where his hand is curved around Harry's hip.
"I love you, you know." Harry doesn't know why it suddenly feels so important to say it right now, on a lazy morning that they so rarely get to indulge in, but there's a thrum alongside his heartbeat that tells him this is the moment. It's the same instinct that tells him when to fire his gun, a kind of muscle memory etched into the space between blood cells.
The arm slung across his middle tenses for a moment and Harry feels the giddy drop of his stomach as his breath struggles to make its way down to his lungs. Eggsy's face is tilting up and he has to crane his neck at an awkward angle to catch Harry's lips, but the way he breathes out a soft "yeah?" into the kiss makes Harry haul him up closer, a warm palm tucked around his ribs.
"Of course I do," Harry says simply, and Eggsy grins, the same delighted, kid-in-a-candy-store smile he had on his face the first time Harry showed him dressing room 3.
"Love you too, Harry," Eggsy says and the words sound so sweet, Harry pulls him into another kiss to try to chase the taste of them on his tongue.
***
Routine is difficult for spies. The nature of the work prevents it, mostly, so it's the little things, tiny habits that can only be indulged in at home or at the shop that Eggsy knows Harry clings to, to give his life a sense of normalcy and order. The way he takes his tea, the brand of shampoo he buys, the ritualistic way he shines his shoes every morning - it all adds up to a solidity that grounds Harry, a presence that Eggsy feels like gravity, something only noticeable when it’s absent.
That’s how he knows something’s different as soon as Harry walks in the door, although he couldn’t explain exactly how he knew it; suddenly Harry is home, the atoms of the air surrounding him charge, and Eggsy feels the current play over his skin. He’s become attuned to the tides of Harry’s routines, and tonight there’s no sorting through mail, there’s no putting the kettle on, there’s not even the quick and dirty snog at the front door when Eggsy bounds to meet him like an overeager puppy. He seems…adrift. The molecules in the air seem to part around them differently, the weight of Harry’s steps is heavier, and when Harry leans in for a kiss, his hands smooth over Eggsy’s skin with a slow purposefulness rather than the frantic tugging at clothes Eggsy was expecting after Harry’s mission had kept them apart for 10 days. It’s as if Harry is reminding himself that Eggsy is here, is an anchor.
“Alright, luv?” Eggsy asks, his forehead crinkled in concern. It had been a hard mission, Eggsy knew; human trafficking cases always were. Harry had been forced to hold a 10-year-old girl’s stomach wound closed for an hour before he could get her to the medical team at the safe house. She survived, the baddies didn’t, and all in all it was a win for Kingsman, but Eggsy knew all too well the way missions like that settled under the skin and refused to budge sometimes. It's part of the reason he's so grateful that Harry's been here to help him through it all; they have killers' hands, but they use them to rebuild each other when they need to.
***
Harry nods at the question, leans his forehead against Eggsy's and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of him - laundry soap and tea and mint, and something underneath, smoky and soft and Eggsy. For so many years, coming home from missions was stepping into a dark flat, a cold museum to a solitary life with no one but a dead dog and decades of newspaper clippings to keep him company, but now there's this boy standing in front of him, and he's warm and close and alive. He never thought needing someone could feel like something other than a liability.
The vulnerability of it fills his lungs like water and his breath is caught, wild and fluttering in his throat when Eggsy kisses him softly and says, "'m glad you're home, I missed you." It feels right, and safe, and any remaining panic bubbling in his blood begins to evaporate like sea foam.
The thought of letting Eggsy inside makes his skin prickle with heat rather than fear, and his hands clutch at Eggsy's jacket, dragging him into a kiss that opens up in waves. Eggsy responds beautifully, breathing out tiny noises as Harry licks along his upper lip, coaxing Eggsy's mouth open so that he can curl his tongue just so. With a press of his thumb under the corner of Eggsy’s jaw, Harry swallows the groan Eggsy releases and deepens the kiss, needing to feel pulled under by the irresistible tide of Eggsy's lips against his own. It thrills him to feel Eggsy’s erection, grinding against his thigh, and the resulting rush of yes that surges through him is overwhelming, and yes, he wants this right now, he wants, he wants.
“Upstairs,” he whispers against Eggsy’s ear and the sound Eggsy makes feels like drowning.
They make their way upstairs hand-in-hand almost shyly, without the usual frenetic race to shed clothes, to feel skin against skin in the midst of heated, biting kisses. Instead Harry presses close, kissing under Eggsy's collar in hot, shivery drags as they blindly climb the stairs one slow step at a time.
In the bedroom, Harry removes their clothes without much care. He does pause to hang up his jacket and trousers lest they wrinkle too horribly; he's not quite reckless enough to sacrifice good tailoring if he can help it. All the while Eggsy follows, naked and flush against Harry, standing behind him on his tiptoes, mouthing at the long expanse of Harry's neck as his hands reach around to deftly undo the buttons of his crisp white shirt. There's something heady about taking their time, although Harry's touch is far from tender; when Eggsy slides Harry's pants down and bites the curve of his neck just hard enough to bruise, Harry reaches behind him to wrap his fingers into Eggsy's hair, and pulls, grinding back against Eggsy's cock in a shameless plea for more.
"Fuck," Eggsy swears, and Harry nods drunkenly because yes, that's what he needs. The younger man seems to understand, scraping blunt nails over Harry's hips to urge him forward the few steps needed to fall onto the bed.
***
For a moment Eggsy's at a loss, because Harry is never this pliant, never this breathless when he presses fingerprints into Eggsy's skin. They're tangled up, limbs akimbo until Harry rolls over onto his back and Eggsy covers the length of him, letting his hands roam as he kisses Harry languidly. Harry's opening up beautifully, licking into Eggsy's mouth with a groan, and as the kiss deepens Eggsy shifts just enough that he can rub the hot press of Harry's cock against his thigh. He’s so hard he can’t think straight, but the movement causes a shudder to run through Harry that builds like a wave breaking and Eggsy pulls back from their kiss, whining low in his throat at the feeling of Harry this desperate. The fog of his arousal crystallizes as he resolves to feel that desperation again.
Mouth parted and aching for breath, he makes Harry look him in the eye before he begins to map kisses over his throat and chest. The marks he leaves bloom and dissipate like blood in water. When he lets his tongue flick out to lap wetly at the peak of Harry's nipple, the older man chokes out, "CHRIST, Eggsy, I--" and Eggsy closes his lips and sucks because he already knows everything Harry wants to say.
He could do this for hours, working his way down, pulling these obscene sounds from Harry just with the curl of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. Mottled bruises are forming along the V of Harry’s hips as Eggsy sucks and bites at the thin skin, his chin bumping the sticky-slick head of Harry’s cock every so often. There are wounded sounds coming from Harry’s throat but Eggsy’s lost in the taste of him, in the power of keeping Harry's juddering hips pinned down to the mattress. Suddenly there's a cool weight in his hand as Harry presses the small tube of lube from the bedside table into his palm and Eggsy remembers the training barracks that first night, the feel of water closing in and the air burning in his lungs as he tries to reorient himself. He looks up at Harry, who swallows thickly and Eggsy can practically taste the thunder of Harry’s heartbeat underneath his lips, and that’s enough. His hands are shaking as he kneels up, flicking the cap of the tube and slicking his fingers messily.
“I got you, luv, ‘m gonna take such good care of you…” His voice sounds thick and far away, underwater. He uses his free hand to grab a pillow, urging it up under Harry’s hips and observing the flush on Harry’s chest deepen as Eggsy places a hand on his inner thigh and spreads his legs apart. Watching Harry’s face, Eggsy hovers over him, letting the pads of his fingertips skim lightly over the heated skin behind Harry’s balls and then he spreads Harry’s cheeks apart to expose the tight pucker of his hole. Gentle strokes, then the lightest pressure as Eggsy rubs small circles over the muscle, willing Harry to relax. Harry’s warm brown eyes are locked on Eggsy, and his mouth drops open in short, shallow gasps as Eggsy works him over carefully. Eggsy leans down to run his tongue over the head of Harry’s cock, slowly drawing it into his mouth, and as Harry cries his name, one slick finger finally breaches his body.
***
Harry thought he would be prepared - it’s not as if it’s been so long that he’s forgotten what to expect from a few fingers in his arse, but as always, Eggsy goes far, far beyond his expectations. There’s liquid heat surrounding the head of his cock, just enough to light him up but not to tip him over the edge as Eggsy slowly opens him up with long, deliberate slides of his finger. Nerves Harry had never discovered on his own are glowing like sparks, bright points of almost pain that make his breath come faster.
“More,” he breathes, and Eggsy is there, another finger pressing slow and steady inside. He doesn’t deny Harry, not even for a second, and a surge of gratitude makes Harry clamp down a moan at how eager Eggsy is to give and give and give. His teasing mouth leaves sloppy kisses up and down Harry’s shaft, suckling at the crown of his cock as he twists and scissors his fingers into the gripping heat of Harry’s body. It’s shockingly good, wave after wave of sensation crashing over Harry as he clutches the sheets in an attempt to maintain some control.
The rapid huffs of his breathing take on a pleading edge, and Eggsy seems to sense it, so he adds a third finger carefully. Reverently. He’s purposefully avoiding Harry’s prostate, just grazing the very edge of it every now and again and humming contentedly when even that much contact makes Harry’s cock twitch and leak. With a lewd slurp, Eggsy pulls off Harry’s cock and watches as his three fingers slide deliberately in and out of Harry’s stretched hole. He adds some more lube, letting it run down over his fingers and onto the pink, puffy ring of muscle, and Harry shivers and gasps as the tip of Eggsy’s pinky circles around his rim.
“So gorgeous, Harry,” Eggsy whispers, staring hungrily at the way Harry’s body accepts a fourth finger in slow, careful increments. The glaring exposure of it is maddening, and Harry wants to crawl away from Eggsy’s gaze only fractionally less than he wants to rock his hips down, fucking himself onto Eggsy’s fingers with purpose. Huge green eyes with pupils blown wide meet Harry’s and all Harry can do is watch helplessly as a shock of pink tongue darts out to wet Eggsy’s lips, swollen from cocksucking.
His hips move of their own accord, and Harry’s moan is only slightly louder than Eggsy’s as he’s stretched open further than he’s ever been before.
***
Eggsy’s almost sure he could come just from watching this. Harry’s hair is curling around his temples as a light sheen of sweat gathers there, and when Eggsy lightly brushes over Harry’s prostate, Harry’s body arches as he tips his head back on a strangled cry. It’s only when Eggsy shifts back into a kneeling position that his neglected cock juts out, angry and red, and he realizes how painfully hard he really is. Harry looks down the length of his body and his mouth drops open on a shuddering breath when he sees Eggsy kneeling before him.
“Eggsy…” he croaks, his eyes bleary with need, and Eggsy feels a surge of lust race through his veins at how wrecked Harry sounds already. He nods, licking his lips once more and curves up to give Harry a heated kiss, a wet slide of tongue that pushes down the gasp Harry lets out when Eggsy slowly withdraws his fingers and crowds closer, forcing Harry’s legs to bracket his hips. He lets the head of his cock rest against the spasming clutch of Harry’s hole, and Harry groans, a soul-deep thing that Eggsy wants to hear again and again. Leaning back once more, he slicks himself roughly and begins to push in, wrapping his broad hands around Harry’s hips to keep him pinned in place as Eggsy fills Harry in one long thrust.
***
There’s an electrical current racing under his skin, pulling his muscles tight as Eggsy begins to fuck him. Long rolls of his hips to start with, a smooth rhythm that Harry feels radiating out from his core like a heartbeat, and it’s everything, it’s perfect, it’s exactly what he needed it to be. His cock slaps wetly against his belly when Eggsy fucks into him, and he can’t hide, spread out and open and taking it, greedy and desperate for more. He won’t last long, not with the white noise filling his head and Eggsy’s thrusts speeding up as he aims to take Harry apart.
He is raw, he is an open wound, he is a quivering mess of need, and when Eggsy snaps his hips forward on a particularly ruthless thrust, Harry finally understands the grace of letting go.
His hands grasp at Eggsy’s wrists, seeking something to anchor him, and Eggsy twines the fingers of his left hand with Harry’s, bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss. It’s unbearably intimate, stealing the breath from his lungs until Eggsy brings their joined hands to curl around Harry’s cock and stroke, and his blood begins to burn.
"That's it, Harry, wanna see you, lemme see you," Eggsy pants, pushing in deep and grinding, pulling out and angling just right so the head of his cock is rubbing over Harry's prostate with each roll of his hips. The hands on Harry’s cock stroke and rub wetly under the head, shocking arcs of current to travel up his spine, and his world narrows to the rhythm of the strokes and the aching throb of his hole as Eggsy fucks him bare. It's a slow build and then it isn't; he feels the pull of his orgasm drag him down like an undertow, and he loses himself in the bliss of it as he comes, clenching and gasping Eggsy’s name over and over.
***
Harry tips his head back and cries, "Eggsy," in the broken voice of a drowning man as he shudders and clenches around Eggsy's cock. When he feels the hot spill of Harry's come dripping down their entwined fingers and the way Harry's body is pulling him in deeper than he ever thought possible, Eggsy screws his eyes shut and curls in on himself, coming with a sob.
***
They're drowsing under the duvet, the towel that Eggsy used to clean them up tossed lazily over the side of the bed. "Eggsy," Harry chides, wrinkling his nose at the sloppiness, but Eggsy curls up into his side and kisses his furrowed brow.
"Mm. I'll get it later. Promise," he says, the last part swallowed up by a yawn as he slumps bonelessly against Harry. Harry can't be bothered to grump more, so he kisses into Eggsy’s hair and sinks further back into the pillows. He feels wrung out, but not empty--on the contrary, there's an aching sort of fullness inside him, like the swollen flesh of a bruise that he doesn't want to stop pressing his thumb into.
Lazy brushes of his fingertips over Eggsy's arm slung across his chest prevent them both from drifting too far into sleep. After a few minutes of drowsy silence, Eggsy slurs, “D'you wanna talk about it?"
"Hm?"
"Well, that was--normally I'm the one takin' it up the arse," he blurts and rouses a little, blinking up at Harry, not sure if he's misspoken but too curious to care. Harry can’t help but croak out a laugh, and he takes a moment to enjoy the swell of affection he feels for this incredible boy in his arms before he answers.
"I never needed it before. Or rather, I never allowed myself to. No occasion to, until I found someone...someone I love. Does that surprise you?"
The lines of Eggsy's forehead soften a bit as he considers that, then--"You tellin' me you never--? With anyone? Til just then?"
"No. Never. A few fingers, occasionally, but nothing more. My previous partners were mostly fleeting or in the line of duty, and they all appreciated my more dominant tendencies so..." He shrugs and Eggsy blinks rapidly, a confused but pleased grin splitting his face. “That mean I’m special, then?”
Harry brings his hand up to cup Eggsy’s cheek, grazing his thumb along the sharp line of his cheekbone and tips his face up so he can brush a breath of a kiss against his lips with a smile. “Yes, darling. One does not pop one’s cherry for anything less."
Eggsy pokes him lightly in the side and Harry squirms at it because he knows it will make Eggsy laugh, and it does. He wraps around Harry tighter, though, and Harry can feel the warm flush of his cheek against his bare chest. He says quietly into the muss of Eggsy’s hair, “You are, though. You know that, don’t you?”
Eggsy buries his face further into Harry’s chest and makes a noncommittal sound, but Harry can feel the way his chest expands and his hands clutch at Harry’s skin as if he might float away on the praise. They really should get up, clean up their mess and change the sheets on their bed but the slackening weight of Eggsy on top of him means that Harry is sinking into sleep too.
Their bed. He smiles at the thought and its unexpected, but not unwelcome, implication, before he falls to sleep, content.