Eggsy has learned every inch of Harry by now, both inside and out. Working closely with someone in life or death situations will do that to people after two years. Of course, living with him has also helped Eggsy pick up on some habits in particular that few other people would be as likely to know.
For example, Eggsy knows that when Harry removes his glasses things are about to get serious. Serious enough that Merlin and anybody else who might be watching the comm feed doesn't need to know about them. Red-slapped skin and bite marks on thighs serious.
He also knows that when Harry takes the time to loosen his tie (and just his tie, the rest of his outfit could remain unruffled for ages after that) he's going to be begging for it when it comes to him. Begging with run-on, barely formed, only half intelligible sentences as Harry turns him into nothing more than a desperate mess. Begging splayed out on the bed with nothing left to hide, begging for Harry to find out more, everything about him.
And when Harry uncuffs and rolls his sleeves, Eggsy might just as well come then and there because there isn't any way he's lasting the night without doing so at least twice.
That night is one of those nights.
He's upset Harry somehow, but he's not been able to figure out how, exactly. He's been replaying the day through his head for the past ten minutes trying to figure it out, but has come up empty. "Harry, c'mon. You can't stay mad at me forever. At least not without telling me what it was I did," he amends. Harry has shown himself perfectly capable of holding one hell of a grudge, after all.
Harry looks over at him, the cold, deliberate look in his eyes setting Eggsy on edge. Very, very slowly, he raises a hand to his shirt sleeve, undoing the button and rolling up his sleeve. He repeats the process with the other one.
Eggsy's mouth has gone dry and his heart speeds up in anticipation, no longer worried that Harry is truly mad at him. He is, however, about to be thoroughly fucked.
"I want you waiting in the bedroom. I'll be up shortly," Harry says, eyes trained on Eggsy's face impassively.
Nodding, not trusting himself to be able to speak, Eggsy gets to his feet. It is the matter of a moment to make his way to the room they share, the massive four-poster bed the focus of the room. It's where they spend most of their time when they're in there, after all. He toes off his shoes but leaves the rest of his clothes on, flopping down on the bed and spreading himself out, staring up at the ceiling as he waits.
True to his word, Harry comes in only a minute or two later. He turns to close the door, his back to Eggsy. When he moves to face him again it is slow, almost predatory and he gives him a look bordering on feral. "I watched your mission feed," he states, voice still not revealing anything about the way he really feels.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out Harry's talking about the honeypot mission he'd been sent out on earlier. Shrugging nonchalantly, Eggsy sits up and crosses his legs over each other. "Yeah? I thought I was rather good."
Harry's long legs bring him over to bed in a few short strides, one hand tangling into Eggsy's hair, tilting his head back to expose his neck. "You were entirely too convincing. One could almost think that you'd forgotten who you really belong to," he growls.
Snorting, Eggsy brings one of his hands up to curl in the loose fabric of Harry's shirt. "Sorry, bruv. I've got a good memory. You ain't gettin' out of this anytime soon."
"Nonetheless, I think it would do you good to get a reminder," Harry states, releasing his hold on Eggsy and pulling away from him. He gets up and goes to the closet, turning to cast a quick glance back over his shoulder. "Shirt, off."
As Harry is digging out whatever he's digging out, Eggsy tugs his shirt off, dropping it to the floor and kicking it over to one side. That won't be needed for a while, if he knows Harry. And he does. Quite well. But it's still a bit of a surprise when he looks up to see the older man approaching him with nothing more than a tie.
"Your hands," Harry demands.
Eggsy offers them to him, watching as Harry deftly wraps the tie around them, knotting it well enough so that it's not likely to slip off, nor is it cutting off his circulation.
Harry guides Eggsy down onto the bed, stretching his arms above his head and securing the free end of the tie to the headboard. "Can you move?" he asks.
Eggsy gives an experimental tug, but his hands don't come free.
"Good. Now I want you to tell me whose you are," Harry says, running the fingers of one hand lightly from the hollow of Eggsy's throat to the waistline of his trousers.
"'M yours, Harry, you know that."
Harry nods, leaning down to press a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder, pulling back even as Eggsy's head tips to the side, exposing more of his neck. "And am I to believe that you were thinking of me when you were with your target?" he asks innocently, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers.
Eggsy cranes his neck so he can Harry a bit better, giving him a skeptical glance, but saying nothing.
"A gentleman never leaves another wondering when he can provide the answer," Harry chastises, his hand moving to Eggsy's nipple instead. He drags the pad of his thumb over one roughly, twisting it slightly, just on the edge of pleasure and pain.
Eyes sliding closed, Eggsy's back arches slightly off the bed. "Yeah, yeah, course I was thinkin' of you," he replies, slumping back to his prone position when Harry's hand leaves. His eyes flutter open again and he pouts slightly in disappointment, but he doesn't dare say anything. He's not the one in control here.
Gesturing for Eggsy to lift his hips (and taking a second to appreciate that view when Eggsy complies), Harry works his trousers off, leaving him in only his boxers. "You're certain that you weren't interested in him at all? The truth, now, Eggsy."
Fighting off the blush that wants to creep up on him at his exposed position, Eggsy nods. "I only want you, Harry, swear on my life," he says earnestly.
"Good," Harry says simply, easily slipping Eggsy's boxers off as well. His chest brushes against Eggsy's cock as he presses his lips to the younger man's. He replaces his lips with his index finger, pressing it against Eggsy's lower lip. Obligingly, he sucks it into his mouth, tongue running over it until it is practically dripping.
Harry removes it from his mouth, moving it down to Eggsy's hole. Pausing, a silent question in his eyes, he waits for a nod before slipping it partly inside him.
Eggsy sucks in a breath through his teeth, waiting for himself to adjust so that he can feel pleasure enough to dispel the discomfort. As soon as that's happened, he'ss wriggling, urging Harry to get on with it.
Chuckling lightly, Harry bends to his whim, sliding it in the rest of the way. Stopping briefly, he works it in and out a few times before pulling all of the way out, ignoring Eggsy's whine of disappointment. "Patience, my dear boy, is a virtue you have yet to master," he comments, reaching for the lube they keep in the bedside nightstand.
"Pot and kettle, Harry," Eggsy points out, thrusting his hips up entincingly as if that will make him move faster.
Knowing how much Eggsy wants him to hurry only makes Harry more inclined to move slowly and he slicks up each finger individually, taking his time with each. Eventually he can neither ignore Eggsy or his own growing impatience and he returns to his original position, the first finger sliding in easily enough.
Eggsy groans at the introduction of the second finger, but the hardening of his cock denotes that it is far from unwelcome. He loves the feeling of Harry working him open, preparing him for his cock, body already thrilling in anticipation for what he knows is coming. But there isn't the third finger he expects.
Instead, Harry's free hand wraps around his cock, running slowly up and down his length. Simultaneously, his fingers start moving in and out of Eggsy, first one crooking so it finds his prostate.
His eyes fly wide open and his mouth stretches open in a near soundless scream. A strangled gasp finds its way out of his lungs and he chokes out a strained, "Holy shit."
"Who was it that you said you belonged to?" Harry asks again, thumb flicking over the sensitive head of his cock right as his finger brushes over his prostrate once more.
"You, Harry, fuckin' hell," Eggsy pants, already feeling his heart starting to race in his chest.
Harry's hands still, give Eggsy a chance to settle a bit before he starts right back up again, smirk flitting over his face at the look of momentary relief on Eggsy's face that's quickly replaced by blown pupils and a gaping mouth. His boy looks absolutely stunning like this, arms stretched above his head, back and hips reaching for the ceiling, cock swallowed up in his hand. "You had better not forget that," he warns.
Overwhelmed by pleasure, Eggsy can't manage to do much more than nod. Aware that he's nodding far more than he needs to, he forces his head to a stop, letting out a long, filthy moan as Harry's pace increases.
It continues on that way for a bit, Harry pausing every now and again to let Eggsy settle just enough that there's another surge of pleasure every time he gets back to it. Eggsy is reduced to an incoherent beggar, pleading for Harry to let him come, to keep going, to just fuck him already.
The next time he pauses, Harry swallows up any budding protests, drinking them out of Eggsy's lips in a long, slow kiss. The pace after that is even more brutal, thumb circling the head of his cock, fingers swiping over his prostate with every thrust.
Eggsy lets out a sob as he finally comes, spilling into Harry's hand, tired muscles shuddering with relief as he finally rests back on the bed. "Yours, yours, Harry, I'm yours," he whispers, eyes closing.
Harry gets up, returning a second later with a damp cloth that he uses to wipe off both his hand and Eggsy's stomach, smoothing a hand through his hair.
Eggsy leans into his touch, eyes fluttering open and offering Harry a small, tired smile.
"That's right, Eggsy. You're mine. And I'm yours." He presses a soft kiss to his forehead and reaches to untie him.