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the train is a metaphor

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They’re in the lounge car when the exchange happens. It’s a quick and subtle hand-off, the device a near perfect mimic of a real coin, but its internal power supply is just strong enough for Harry’s glasses to pick up.

”That’s it,” comes Merlin’s voice in his earpiece.

Harry’s already moving to intercept, quick with an apology when he deliberately fumbles into the man attempting to leave via the narrow stairwell that leads to the lower deck of the car. In the edge of his vision he sees Eggsy pull a similar ruse, the lad rising from his seat at one of the small tables at precisely the right moment to hinder the other target.

It’s a little too much commotion with so few travelers in the lounge, and the tranquilizer Harry had intended to use ends up sidelined as he deftly avoids a rather sharp kick to the groin. Still, the fight is over almost as quickly as it had begun, with a few well-aimed shots from the point of his umbrella stunning first his own opponent and then Eggsy’s.

Harry restrains his target and recovers the small device. He flips it over in his palm as Eggsy turns his charm towards calming the other passengers and the steward cowering behind the bar. In a manner of seconds, the lot are asleep from a trio of amnesia darts.

“What do you suppose it does?” Eggsy asks, dragging the steward’s body out to lay snoozing nearer the others. Straightening, he pulls his mobile out to take a triumphant photo of himself against the backdrop of the snow-capped mountains slowly passing by.

“Something nefarious, I’d wager.”

Harry passes the coin over to Eggsy for inspection while Eggsy taps the frame of his glasses to get a quick scan of its inner workings. “Looks a bit like those implants Valentine used,” he says, echoing Harry’s unspoken concern. “You think it’s a bomb?”

”Gentlemen,” Merlin interrupts.

“It could very well be an explosive. Do you see that small cylinder?”

“On the left of the squiggly bit?”

“Yes, beside the coil. My guess is that’s the--”

”Gentlemen,” Merlin says sharply and with more urgency. ”The object is powering up.”

“Shit.”

Eggsy's fingers fold reflexively around the coin and Harry thinks of the boy's father, the hand that’d been pushed to his chest before Lee sacrificed himself for his fellow knights. If the object is an explosive, tossing it from the train could trigger an avalanche. If it isn't, they'll have discarded a crucial piece of evidence.

"Here," Harry says and thrusts his hand out, intending that it be him that’s to fall on any grenade should it come to it.

But Eggsy is already vaulting over the lounge’s bar counter. He spins and drops the device into a half-full glass of seltzer water and crams it into the compact refrigerator, his back slamming against the door and eyes scrunching shut as he waits for it to blow. In the HUD, Harry sees the frequency jump like it’s about spike, but it seems to short out, the waveform settling down into something only marginally higher than prior to its activation.

Slowly Eggsy opens one eye and then the other. He peels himself away from the front of the refrigerator and shrugs.

“Well done,” Harry tells him, and a truly stupendous smile is beamed his way as Eggsy tugs down the front of his track jacket. Eggsy’s grown quite comfortable in a proper suit, but there’s something to be said for diversifying the garments fit for fieldwork.

Can’t wear a suit everywhere, Harry. Don’t you think one of us ought to blend in with the rest of the tourists?

Harry finds his gaze traveling well to the south into impropriety so he turns it into a show of checking Eggsy for damage. “The outfit seems to have held up in the scuffle.”

“Seems like. I’ll leave it in there yeah.”

”Galahad, Tristan, be careful; the object is still active,” Merlin tells them. ”I’m analyzing the signal now, though initial readings suggest it’s based on Valentine’s design.”

“What’s the range?” Harry asks.

“I can’t yet be certain. Five meters? Ten?”

Harry gestures for Eggsy to secure the north end of the car. So far they both seem to have full control of their faculties, but the first order of business is preventing collateral damage should the circumstances change. He hurries down the narrow stairwell and shoots his remaining electromagnet at the door to fry the wiring and seal it shut.

"I'm replicating the frequency in the lab as we speak. It's definitely built off Valentine’s model: increased aggression, decreased inhibitions. The volunteers are reacting, albeit slower-- Oh. Hmm. This is unexpected."

"Is it dangerous?” Harry asks.

“Well there's a certain level of aggression but-- One moment.”

“Merlin!” Harry returns to the upper deck where Eggsy’s waiting, looking a shade paler than he ought. “Merlin, for fuck’s sake is it dangerous? Should one of us be under tranquilizer?” Harry switches the setting on his wristwatch to be prudent; he didn’t really have to say which one of them.

Another agonizing moment of silence passes and then, "It appears, err, to not affect the regions of the brain centered on rage."

"What sort of aggression is it then?" Eggsy asks, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

Harry knows even before he hears the response. Knows because even as Merlin is saying, "It appears to affect sexual responses. Activating latent desire and cranking up the subject’s sex drive whilst simultaneously increasing pheromone production," Harry is thinking primarily of the distance between himself and Eggsy and how very few steps it would take to be within range to push the boy to the floor and pin him there.

“Yes, thank you Merlin. Very helpful.” When he turns to Eggsy he can feel the rising in his blood. His gaze lingers for a fraction too long at the hollow of Eggsy’s throat, his sweetly parted lips, his clenched fist that begs for a kiss, tongued across the hard row of his knuckles. “Tristan, I believe I’m compromised. I’ll use a lower setting--a half hour should do. If you and Merlin haven’t found a way to counteract the signal by then, we’ll reconsider our options.”

Harry stretches out his arm and tugs back his cuff, lifting his hand to aim the dart at his own neck. It’s a subtle sting, little more than a bite, and it does absolutely fucking nothing. Whether it’s a failure of the equipment or merely the chemicals rushing in his blood overriding the sedative, there’s no way to know. On to Plan B then. Keeping his eyes away from Eggsy, Harry opens the nearest sleeping cabin. “Would you please take the second cabin and bar the door. I’ll try and do the same in here.”

“Harry, I don’t think--”

“Now, Eggsy,” Harry says. He winces. It’s a sign of how very far gone he is already if he can’t keep his codenames straight. Mind over body and sheer strength of will thankfully keep his mannerisms in check. “If I can't control myself, you're to do what you must." With that he slips into the room to isolate himself, the door sliding shut with a hushed whisper.

Harry flips the latch and pulls his glasses off, folding them into his palm as he swallows desperate lungfuls of air. It helps marginally. The heavy thud of his heart slows into a more regular rhythm.

With a shaking hand he places the glasses down on a small shelf that runs beneath the flatscreen television affixed to the wall. The space beside it is paneled in polished wood. Harry leans against it, the surface cool and solid against his forehead and beneath the spread of his palm. The steady sway of the train car and the clack of the rails serves as something for him to occupy his mind with, though it can’t distract him fully. His thoughts soon wander, wondering first if Eggsy has done as told and sequestered himself in the other cabin and whether or not he might be similarly affected. Was he in there right now, tenting his tracksuit bottoms?

Harry closes his eyes and pictures it more fully: Eggsy sitting sprawled on one of the leather couches, fingers in his mouth and one hand sliding down into his shorts. How sweet it’d be to give Eggsy something thicker to suck on: a stiff cock pushing in with a palm on his forehead to tip his head back and make him look up at Harry. The way Eggsy would doubtlessly let Harry watch his cock ride the flat of his tongue before his lips closed in again, hungry and sucking hard, because if the boy’s anything he’s a fucking quick study.

He could hold to the luggage rack and just let his body move as gravity dictates, the sway of the train pushing his cock deeper into Eggsy’s willing mouth. And oh, the sounds Eggsy would make, pleasured gasps and rough inhales that--

There’s a bang at the cabin door--the rapid pound of a fist--and Harry yanks his fingers away from tracing the outline of his cock through his trousers. It’s impossible not to feel rather like a schoolboy being caught after lights out.

“This is stupid, Harry!” Eggsy shouts. “Let’s just pitch the thing out the window and be done with it.”

“No!” Merlin says, echoing Harry’s own outburst.

“Why not? You can replicate the signal, ain’t that enough?”

Harry sets himself to rights as best he can when there’s no way he can truly conceal the frankly incredible erection he’s sporting, but if Eggsy’s going to insist on barging in, he’s going to try his hardest not to alarm the young man.

He flips the latch and steps back, taking a seat near the window and crossing one knee over the other. “Replicating the signal doesn’t help us figure out where it was manufactured, or who activated it,” Harry explains as Eggsy hauls the door open.

The boy doesn’t just stroll on in--thank god, because otherwise Harry might have had him on the sleek leather cushions straightaway. The sweeping look that Eggsy gives him, however, does little to settle the gnawing sensation building in the very core of him.

“Seems risky, don’t it?” Eggsy says, perching on the seat nearest the door. He tugs at his shirt and bounces his knee once or twice in irritation, but that’s hardly out of the ordinary when he was casually dressed. All in all, he seems not the least bit worse for wear.

A teacher’s best day may be when a student exceeds them, but logic need not apply right now. Not when Eggsy’s legs fall into the same wide sprawl Harry’d been fantasizing about and he goes from squinting thoughtfully to staring boldly at Harry. Harry stifles a fit of annoyance that Eggsy remains free from the same urges currently assaulting him.

“Perhaps a drink,” he says, primarily to himself.

Eggsy’s knee gives one last bounce, and then he’s up and out the door. “Your usual?” he calls.

“Yes, thank you, that’d be lovely.” Harry can’t help but smile as he stands, and for a moment his feelings of fondness overcome his desire to absolutely ruin the young man. It’s a familiar battle, if he’s to be honest.

”Introducing alcohol to mix seems like a poor idea, don’t you think, Galahad?”

“Bugger off,” Harry mutters. He almost removes the earpiece, but wisdom prevails, and while he’s being prudent he retrieves his glasses as well.

In the lounge, Eggsy’s left a drink for him on the bar and claimed the edge of a table as a seat. Some days it seems as if manners will forever be an afterthought, Harry thinks, availing himself of the glass and the nearest stool. Eggsy watches him keenly, and there’s no telling how much the clench of his jaw or the trembling in his smallest finger is giving away. Eggsy is a remarkably clever and observant agent.

Taking a sip, Harry hooks a finger in the knot of his tie, loosening it before opening the topmost button at his throat. “It’ll be another hour and a half until we’re out of the mountains, and an hour beyond that until the next station,” Harry says, pleased that his voice stays even despite noticing that Eggsy’s restlessness now appears heightened. It strikes him then that Eggsy’s jacket might be open and his shirt pulled loose to conceal his own erection. Harry takes a sip to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Any progress on how we might nullify the signal?”

”Not yet, but I think we’re on the right track.”

“Harry, you all right, bruv?” Eggsy asks, with a sort of wavering concern in his voice as if he regrets not sticking to Harry’s attempt to separate and isolate the both of them.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’ve survived far worse than a stiff prick at an inopportune moment.” Harry sighs and drains his drink, promptly abandoning the empty glass in favor of reaching for the other tumbler left sweating on the bar. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Eggsy replies, and for a moment it seems to be the truth. Then the parting clouds lets the sun illuminate the faintest sheen of sweat gathering at his temples and his knee goes back to bouncing. He wipes his palms over his thighs and rolls his shoulders. “Right as fucking rain.”

Harry’s fingers slide across the condensation on the glass, and he enjoys a very nice fantasy about bending Eggsy over the very stool he's sat upon. For Eggsy to ask him to please sir, make certain he can’t go anywhere, tie his wrists and ankles to the post, and use whatever hole he fancies. “Seems to me you sound a bit tense. You might try to meditate, Eggsy.”

“Meditate...my fucking arse. What good’s that gonna do? I’ll be horny and bored.”

"I can tell you this much, it's less potent than the other signal by far,” Merlin interjects. “It seems to be most effective amplifying existing feelings, so the two of you might be uncomfortable for a brief while but you should be able to keep your hands off one another."

Harry removes his glasses again and pinches the bridge of his nose. To admit it twice over is incredibly embarrassing. “Not true I’m afraid,” he confesses with some chagrin, and Merlin’s quiet swearing grows increasingly inventive.

Harry finds himself tracing his tongue along the inside of his teeth, and the sweep of his thumb on the lip of his glass is no substitute for the smooth skin he’d like to have beneath his touch. “Eggsy, you’re a handsome young man and I hold you in the highest regard. I suggest you reconsider barricading yourself in the sleeping cabin.”

“You should do as he says.”

Only Eggsy’s breathing has gotten louder and his tongue rolls over his lip to leave it slick and shining. The sight of his parted mouth is nearly too much, and Harry tips his head back and shuts his eyes.

“Fuck off, I’m not going anywhere,” Eggsy says.

The foolish, stubborn boy. Harry’s near holding his own breath, busy tuning into the rhythm of Eggsy’s and the faint whisper of fabric that could be a shift in his posture or a hand slid up his thigh. He makes a fist to keep his arm from shaking alarmingly, and he thinks back to what it was like in boarding school when he’d lie awake listening to the boys in the other beds who were busy pleasuring themselves beneath the covers. How one might slip across the room and quietly offer a hand or mouth--

“Merlin, you might want to stop recording,” Eggsy says, and Harry bites at the inside of his cheek. The sound is unmistakable now, the snap of elastics and the scrape of the chair, the moan muffled into a palm and a deliberate rustling--

Harry can’t look, absolutely can’t, or the very last shred of his control will be lost to him.

“Christ, Harry, you don’t know how good you look sitting there.” Harry hears Eggsy spit; the boy’s not trying in the slightest to be discreet. “Hot...as...fuck. Look at you, trying to keep your shit together in your posh fucking suit with your raging fucking hard-on. You’re fucking gorgeous.

There’s no question that Eggsy’s fisting his own cock; the slick suction of it is utterly obscene--sshk sshk sshk. Silence means he’s paused, or Harry imagines has simply taken to working the head, touch light on the most sensitive of places, where the smart application of a wet tongue would make Eggsy bend double and cry out his name.

“You want a piece of this that badly Harry, all you had to do was ask.” Another whisper of fabric, open thighs spreading wider yet, a noisy inhale that precedes, “I’ve sucked a few cocks, you know. Even let a couple of mates do me up the arse in Basic.”

Eggsy’s name is on his tongue, but whether it’s as a warning or plea, Harry isn’t certain. He manages to keep his eyes closed until there’s a ragged sigh melting into the air, then Harry gives in to fate and finds that Eggsy is staring directly at him with his wet mouth parted and both hands on his rigid cock. He’d known what to expect, and yet it still takes his breath away. Eggsy’s track bottoms are down past his knees, and he’s got one hand flat at the base with his fingers curling around his balls. His other hand is tight around the fat shaft, curving up thick and leaking. Harry watches with rapt attention as foreskin slides over the shining pink tip of that beautiful cock as Eggsy’s fist drags up and pushes another pearly drop of precome out of the slit.

The boy’s look is somewhat dazed yet there’s a certain kind of focus to it, like he has his own dirty fantasies cycling through his head. Harry smiles faintly at the thought, and the shudder that makes Eggsy’s taut belly twitch gets echoed in his own.

Merlin’s trying to get their attention, a drone of words in Harry’s ear that he can’t be bothered to interpret, not when Eggsy’s hand moves down, pointing the exposed whole of his cock in Harry’s direction. “Bet you’d look proper good with my cock in your mouth,” he says, and Harry knows that anyone else might be fooled but Eggsy’s sharp enough to catch the jump in his jaw and the shift in his ankle, or the discreet way he holds the sweating glass of mostly ice just a touch more firmly.

“Funny, I was thinking much the same thing,” Harry responds, dropping his hand into his lap and giving his aching cock a firm squeeze. If it’s to be teasing, well, two can play at that game.

Eggsy’s cock surges thicker, his eyes go heavy-lidded, and a fucking full-on whimper comes out of his mouth. He might be toying with the idea of having Harry suck him off--not an unattractive prospect, by far--but it isn’t a stretch to imagine he’d very much prefer to have Harry put him in his place with a firm hand and a hard prick. The boy’s practically daring him to do it. Gagging for it, as they say.

“How would you like it if I went over there and fed you my cock, Eggsy?” Harry inquires. He’s no stranger to a little game of cat and mouse, but there’s no sport in this.

“I, uh--” Eggsy’s gaze skips down and back up again, and Harry finds his speechlessness devastatingly charming.

“As I thought." Still, some sliver of strength keeps Harry rooted to his seat. The glass in his hand is near breaking.

Then Eggsy’s eyes go bright and he lifts his chin as he says, “I don’t see you moving. What are you, Harry, all talk and no cock? Forget sucking me off, why don’t you come over here and sit down on this, yeah?” He waves his cock before he starts up again jacking himself slowly. Between one stroke and the next, Harry’s restraint becomes a vague memory.

There are stress-marks spiderwebbed in the glass as Harry leaves it on the bar counter, empty save for the ice. Eggsy’s expression goes from aroused to excited to nervous in the time it takes for Harry to cross the distance with purposeful steps. He puts his wet fingers to Eggsy’s open mouth and then directly inside, and Eggsy’s entire body twists as he slurs, “Oh my god. Oh god, Harry,” around Harry’s knuckles.

“I appreciate the offer, Eggsy, but I’ll have to decline,” he says, as Eggsy tries to lick and suck and talk and moan all at the same time. He draws his fingers free to wipe them on the sharp rise of Eggsy’s cheekbones, then traces the angles of the boy’s face until it’s two fingers hooked beneath his jaw and the pad of his thumb flirting near that seeking mouth. “I’m sure I’ll greatly enjoy sitting down on that in the future, but presently--” Harry leans down, pauses with his lips just shy of Eggsy’s, “I trust you’ll be satisfied with showing me just how clever you are with your tongue.”

The shaky, lost sound that pours out of Eggsy is the most delightful thing Harry’s ever heard.

Eggsy audibly swallows, and if there’s any dispute, it’s gone when Harry takes his mouth in a firm kiss. He closes a hand over Eggsy’s and kisses him harder, the jerk of Eggsy’s fist beneath Harry’s clutching fingers going arrhythmic and stilting. He bites at Eggsy’s lips and leaves them with a parting lick before straightening his spine and peeling down his zip.

Every higher thought that remains in his head wants to draw this out, to wait until Eggsy is nearly sobbing for want of a taste, but the thudding rush of chemicals in his blood gives him little choice. Now that he’s yielded to temptation, it’s the most natural thing in the world to pull free his cock, smear the damp head over the shine still left on his young protégé’s cheek, and then push it past those soft, perfect lips.

“Oh, Eggsy,” he breathes out, a grateful sigh following as he cups Eggsy’s face in his hands. Rewarded by the gentle flutter of lashes, Harry shifts his stance, pulling Eggsy to him instead of fucking into the boy’s wet mouth as deeply as he desires.

His attempted self-control is for nothing as Eggsy comes willingly, cramming as much of Harry’s cock as he can into his mouth with eager, appreciative noises. He’s halfway to being wedged into Eggsy’s fucking throat when Eggsy clutches at his hip and pulls back to say, “You’ve got to come in my mouth,” before taking him in again, flushed lips sliding with enthusiasm down the length of him until the tip of Eggsy’s nose crushes against his belt buckle.

He pulls back to watch his cock slide out and in again, the pleasure of it intensified by the look Eggsy gives him, the genuine trust brimming there. Harry wants then only to smother him in kisses, to drag him to the floor and promise him the world. He’d die for the lad, but it’s more than a Kingsman’s willingness to protect a brother. Harry loves him, truthfully, for his swaggering bravado and his endless promise.

It’s a staggering sort of realization. To entertain the idea of a few goes with a handsome young thing, or to be proud of seeing one’s student excel, are vastly different than the ugly pound of his heart that signals a certainty he would’ve never otherwise come to admit.

“Oh, Eggsy,” he says again, softer this time, and smiles when a worried look knits those perfectly arched brows. “No, don’t stop. You’re doing very well.”

A bit of praise works just as well on him as it did his father, though this is worlds apart from raising one’s marksmanship scores.

“You’re certain you want it in the mouth,” Harry asks, and the jostling nod alone nearly causes him to reach his peak. He wants very much to simply push his hips forward, slot himself in Eggsy’s tight throat and come there with Eggsy trying vainly to swallow around him.

“I was thinking,” Harry adds, his fingers sliding back until he’s cupping Eggsy’s skull like the fragile thing it is, “you might like a bit on your face.”

The hard moan triggered by his words sets him off in turn and he fucks Eggsy’s pliant mouth with little regard for anything. After he’s spilled thick on Eggsy’s tongue, lips and cheek, Harry’s still miraculously, achingly hard. He can’t seem to stop himself from continuing to fuck his come-slick cock into Eggsy’s flush lips, watching as the boy’s cheeks go hollow again once he’s swallowed it all down, the hard roll of tongue that sweeps around the crown whenever Harry pulls back enough to allow it. Fast study, indeed.

With a groan, Harry staggers back and wipes away the shine of sweat on his forehead as he looks down at the mess he’s made of Eggsy: pink mouth gone red, thighs come-splattered from rubbing one out while sucking Harry off, his cock still just as stiff as Harry’s. He wants to do it all over again. So does Eggsy, who reels him in for a second go, a sloppy lick dragged up the length of his wet prick.

It’s as if Eggsy can read his mind when he says, “All the way this time, Harry, I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Harry replies. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing the fringe away from his forehead. He’s as mussed as Eggsy if the warmth in his face is anything to go by, the near-fever heat prickling his skin as the buzzing in his head resolves itself into words.

”Galahad-- Harry, for Christ’s sake, I need you to--”

“--fuck me instead,” Eggsy says. He’s hauling his trainers off, pulling his leg free from his track bottoms and kicking them away. In a blink he’s face down on the table, an arm out in front of him to brace himself as if he knows it won’t be gentle, the other spreading himself open.

He looks vulnerable like this, all that blind faith and unwavering trust putting him belly down in front of a man who could kill him in a heartbeat. Harry’s vision goes dim--predatory--narrowing in on the subtle flex of Eggsy’s spine and the muscles going taut in his thighs. A certain amount of control returns to him, and Harry slips out of his jacket to leave it hung neatly on the chair. He goes next for his belt, thumbing the catch that releases the push dagger. It fits comfortably in his fist, the discrete blade gleaming in the sunlight that streams unfiltered through the windows.

”Harry, come on now.”

“C’mon Harry, just do it. Shove it in me. You want it bad as I do.”

Oh he does. He hungers so very badly he can feel it humming in his teeth, the raw tide of need driving the beat of his pulse into something angry and thumping and impossible to satisfy. Raising his arm the dagger stays in his peripheral, the shine of the blade bright between his knuckles. The buzzing in his ears is near deafening.

Eggsy’s legs spread wider and his fingers dig deeper into his flesh, begging with the whole of his body. He moans when Harry takes a fistful of his jacket and pulls hard enough to lift him off the table, then proceeds to strip it off his arms. In one swift move, Harry brings the knife down, blade slipping under the hem of Eggsy’s tee shirt to split it in one long cut. The fabric peels away to expose the fine muscles of his back, his fair skin tight with gooseflesh.

Harry leaves the knife quivering in the table and goes for his belt again. This time, he opens it and his trousers entirely, placket spread flat and shorts pushed down so there will be nothing in the way when he’s pressed up snug against Eggsy’s pert bottom. He slaps both hands to Eggsy’s hips, palms curved to bone, and hauls Eggsy in close. His spit-slick cock rides the sweet warm cleft between Eggsy’s cheeks, another eager moan drowning out the crackle in his earpiece. He wants nothing more than to bury himself with one stroke into Eggsy’s willing body, the chemicals swimming in his veins urging him on, near convincing him Eggsy could take it, would gladly take it and ask for more.

He instead spits on his fingers, dirty and filthy with Eggsy’s, “Oh fuck, Harry,” echoing loudly in his head as he uses his thumb to pry Eggsy’s ass wide. Eggsy’s hand returns only a moment later to assist, allowing a perfectly clear view of Harry’s fingers tracing the tight clench of his hole, slicking it wet, the way it eases at the most gentle of touches. Is it the device that turns his thoughts towards what the boy will look like when he’s fucked loose and dripping, or is it his own proclivities?

Is it the device that makes him swipe the tip of his cock over the trickle of spit running down towards the low hang of Eggsy’s balls, to nudge lightly where Eggsy’s rim is still tight and watch the eager grasp of muscle? He intends to fuck Eggsy open slowly, to press in and withdraw until Eggsy’s ready to take the whole of him in one long slide, but there’s really no stopping once he’s begun, and Eggsy graciously moans for every hard inch.

The stretch of Eggsy’s body lain before him makes a lovely portrait. It deserves to be lavished with attention, to be treasured. Time for that later, a less crude part of Harry thinks as he snaps his hips forward, the force driving Eggsy forward with a startled but enthusiastic sound. He repeats the motion and this time Eggsy expects it, not simply braced for the hard slap of flesh, but shoving eagerly back. Harry gives little thought to rhythm yet they fall into one straight away regardless, the way their bodies meet carrying a sort of brutal elegance to it.

Soon he’s fucking Eggsy hard enough that the table rattles against the bolts holding it to the floor, his hands pinned above the divots on Eggsy's spine. ”Harry, for fuck’s sake. Go easy on the lad,” Merlin says, crisp and clear.

“I am.” Harry’s voice sounds savage in his ears, rough like the noises grating deep in Eggsy’s throat.

“What for, Harry,” Eggsy gasps, both hands wrapped white-knuckle tight on the edge of the table. “Ain’t lookin’ for it easy.” He loses breath on the next thrust, gulping down air as greedily as he fucks himself onto Harry’s cock. For a moment Harry goes nearly still, legs locked while Eggsy grinds him in deep, so deep his vision swims. For a moment, all he knows past the tight clench of Eggsy’s body is the thick, dirty smell of them permeating the cabin. Truly what for, he wonders himself.

Harry leans forward, the firm width of Eggsy’s back shockingly hot against his chest. This way he can feel every single rutting thrust that pitches Eggsy up on his toes, and better still, the echo of a shameless moan when he licks a wet stripe from the nape of Eggsy’s neck all the way to the shell of his ear. He wants to fuck like this forever.

A sweeping touch that travels the length of Eggsy’s side tells Harry where his ticklish spots are, and he presses a smile into the soft wisps of hair curling around Eggsy’s ear. He imagines the freedom to touch Eggsy so whenever it pleased him, and oh it would please him quite often. So too would waking to Eggsy’s sleep-soft face on the pillow beside him, memories of the night before fresh but still not reason enough to forego another languorous fuck the moment the boy woke.

”Harry, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately,” Harry absently replies, straightening again so that he can return to watching the slide of his cock into Eggsy’s beautiful body.

”You can short it out. Deliver enough voltage and it will amplify the signal briefly and then kill it.”

"We get it, Merlin," Eggsy says, sounding equally irritated. "Soon as Harry pumps me full of jizz a second time we'll get right fucking on it, guv."

“On my honor,” Harry mutters out the corner of his mouth, thinking little about the promise and more about how that end is swift approaching. His hands on Eggsy have turned greedy and clutching, and he folds forward again, an arm sliding beneath Eggsy to find a slick mess smeared across the fine-grained gloss of the wood. He’s come more than once by the feel of it. The glide of Harry’s fingers over the taut stretch of his belly to where he’s still curved thick and hard makes Eggsy squirm from overstimulation.

“Can’t–” Eggsy stammers, his hand snapping down to clutch at Harry’s wrist. “Please, just–” His words crumble into sounds when Harry grips him tight and his legs shake for a second before he simply goes boneless while another hot spill of come slides fresh over Harry’s fingers.

The beat of Harry’s heart is alarmingly fast, slamming against his ribs and surely echoing into Eggsy’s skin. He wants to toy with Eggsy’s wet cock for hours, to make the boy weep for how good it feels to come over and over again, but there’s a hiss of breath that says it’s turning from pleasure towards pain and Harry yanks his hand away, slaps it instead to the hard jut of Eggsy’s shoulderblade, pinning him in place while he slams in deep as he can. Muscle and bone shifts under his hand as Eggsy proves positively incapable of remaining still, to keep from pushing back for more when there’s precious little more that Harry can give. He embarasses himself at the peak of things, not with a prick gone soft, but with words of endearment that blur together, names too tender for so raw a moment, and yet with each hard pulse of his orgasm comes an answering clench and his name on Eggsy’s lips.

He’s still hard, still wanting. Strange not to have more than the blink of an eye to enjoy the pleasure flooding his body, as the habits of a lifetime that say now is the time for slow kisses. It’s both worrisome and also the most marvelous thing Harry can think of. He drags his hand down the path of Eggsy’s spine to press his thumb just above where he’s got the boy split wide.

He thinks of doing a great many things, but Merlin’s insistent nagging in his ear spurs him towards the correct course of action. With a curse spit into the air, Harry staggers back, the slide out nearly as sweet as the slide in had been. The trickle of come glistening at the pink flush of Eggsy’s hole begs for a lick, a kiss tongued into where he’s already soft and open. Harry groans and bites hard at his lip as he catches himself nearly going to his knees to do just that. Somehow he manages to haul up his trousers instead and go for the bar, while behind him he hears Eggsy slide into a chair, his breath heavy and uneven.

Make it to the bar, open the refrigerator, find the glass…. Harry repeats this to himself over and over as he goes through the motions. He’s doing well enough, until he makes the mistake of glancing towards Eggsy while upending the glass onto the bar counter. Water spreads away from the innocent looking coin and starts to drip onto the floor as Harry stands mesmerized by the gleam of sunlight on Eggsy’s bare skin.

There are angry red lines across his belly and thighs from the edges of the table, come drying where it isn't so thick that it's still shining wetly, and the push of his fingers between his wide-spread legs makes Harry lust for the privilege of having the boy work himself as vigorously on his own fingers.

The thought draws Harry's gaze to his hand and the heavy ring there pulls a purpose other than carnal satisfaction out of the fog clouding his mind. Pressing the trigger he delivers the voltage straight to the device, electricity crackling across the pooling water, the sizzling smell of hot metal filling the air.

"Fuck, Harry--" Eggsy's body arches, nothing left to spill from the tip of his seizing cock as the surge of the signal hits them both. Harry’s knees go weak as much from the sight as the shorted device; his focus returns in bits and pieces as he heaves himself upright. Eggsy’s breathing remains laboured, his body slack in the chair and worryingly his head lolling loose on his shoulders. Harry hurries back to the boy, stumbling on far too many obstacles and his trust in Merlin’s assurances that Eggsy’s vitals are perfectly fine unsatisfied until he finds a still-rapid but strong pulse beneath his fingertips.

Eggsy’s eyes open slowly, and oh the ache in Harry’s chest. He imagines he’s done the same twice over now to Eggsy, afflicted him with such staggering relief at the simplest of gazes. While turnabout is fair play, he has other concerns on his mind.

“Merlin, the signal?”

”Neutralized with no lingering effects.”

“That may be a matter up for debate,” Harry says quietly, Eggsy’s cheek sweetly cupped in his absolutely filthy palm.

”Ah,” Merlin replies, succinct as always.

Without an ounce of concern and a pleasantly promising smile, Eggsy stands to shed the tattered remains of his clothing. His luxuriant stretch smacks of the same blatant tease he employed earlier. “Seems we’ve still got half an hour ‘til we’re out of these mountains, yeah?”

Harry glances at his watch though he knows the time as well as Eggsy. “And another until the next station,” he replies.

“Well then, Galahad,” Eggsy says, skimming a hand down his front and giving his now-slicked fingers a thoughtful, devious look. “Pretty sure I don’t got another one in me, but I ain’t above trying. Wouldn’t mind seeing about evening the score a bit, either.” And with a saucy wink, Eggsy casually strolls into the nearest sleeping cabin.

”Might I suggest sparing twenty minutes or so to deal with the cleanup?”

“Merlin,” Harry says with utmost seriousness as he follows in Eggsy’s wake, “do shut up.”