Actions

Work Header

the first of many

Work Text:

Eggsy should have seen this coming.

Looking back, he should have payed more attention to the calendar; he’d been good about taking his heat suppressants until the last few weeks, when the training exercises and elimination tests had gotten so intense that he’d started to forget the little pills. Dealing with a heat doesn’t seem as horrific after jumping out of an airplane, especially when you’d under the assumption that your ‘chute was faulty, and taking the suppressants was one of those little things that got shuttered off to the side in his mind.

But the Rohypnol - the fact that he had been able to taste such a small dose of the drug in his drink should have set off warning lights. Or, well - more warning lights than just we’ve been drugged, fuck. Because the heightened sensitivity of his senses is a very typical indication of an oncoming heat, and if he’d been paying attention it may not have come to - this.

This is the cloying smell of himself, the thick buzz of pheromones in the little red office, the trickle of dampness and the start of the ache deep inside him that wants to be filled. This is feeling drunk off more than just one expertly-made martini, the warmth gathering in his face, the film of sweat that’s prickling his lower back.

This is the flaring of Harry’s nostrils, the scent of alpha filling the room in reaction to Eggsy’s own scent, the darkness of Harry’s blown-wide pupils and the stiff line of his spine as he waits, watches.

Because Eggsy’s in heat, and there’s only two ways it can go from here.

Eggsy can’t even remember when they stopped talking, when their easy conversation broke under the weight of the thick, slow-building tension. Ten seconds - ten minutes - ago? He swallows, hands clammy against the empty glass. There’s only two ways this can go, and while he knows what his body wants, mind is another matter.

He’d be lying if he says he hadn’t thought about this. Eggsy had brushed it off as a natural reaction, when he’d popped a stiffy at seeing Harry - powerful, dominant, strong and swift in taking down Dean’s goons one by one, brutally efficient. Anyone would have admired the length of Harry’s legs as he roundhouse kicks and the strength of his forearms in that perfectly-tailored suit, not just an omega reacting to the presence of a capable alpha. The memory is seared into Eggsy’s mind, and he hates himself a little bit for it - hates himself for the reaction, at how predictable it was of him. But as the months progressed - as their relationship progressed, as Eggsy grew to admire Harry for the man that he is - Eggsy couldn’t help but imagine it. Being pinned to the wall in the underground Kingsman bunker as Harry keeps him there with the weight of his body, scenting along the line of his neck - Harry grabbing his wrist from his place in the hospital bed, finally waking in reaction to Eggsy’s presence - Harry’s praise pouring down his spine like honey as Eggsy rides him in his desk chair, squirms down as he takes Harry’s knot-

The sound of Harry’s sharp inhalation knocks Eggsy out of his reverie, and his eyes snap to Harry’s - and almost instantly there’s a fresh ooze of slick at his arse. Harry’s eyes are impossibly dark, hot as they flick across Eggsy’s face, the exposed skin of his collar and neck.

“This isn’t,” Harry begins, clearing his throat. His voice is rough, a shade deeper with restrained desire, and Eggsy can feel himself sweat at the sound of it. “This isn’t what Merlin meant, when he said we had twenty-four hours to spend with our candidates.”

Eggsy licks his lips, catches Harry’s eyes flicking down to watch his tongue. A shiver of heat runs down his spine, ripples across his skin. He’s imagine this, but it’s nothing like really being on the receiving end of Harry’s stare, nothing like having his nose full of their intermingling scents, heady and sharp.

“More than twenty-four hours,” he replies, the thought no sooner flickering across his mind than it is out of his mouth.

“Pardon?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised.

Fuck. Eggsy inhales, exhales shakily. “My heats usually last longer than twenty-four hours. More like-” he nearly gasps at the next gush, the renewed wetness as his body prepares itself for what’s to come - what it thinks is to come. “-like eighty, usually.”

“Three days?” Harry’s breath hitches and his nostrils flare, again, when Eggsy nods - and god, it’s like saying the words is summoning the fervor of his heat, advancing the horizon line of his inevitable mate-drive delirium. Eggsy’s pulse thrums under his skin, which is too warm, too tight - he squirms in his seat, blinking through the distraction of how all of this feels. He’s never done this - never been in the same room as an alpha so close to his heat, let alone one like Harry. Fuck, he’s going to leave a puddle on this seat if he doesn’t - he doesn’t -

“Eggsy,” Harry says, and when Eggsy looks up he’s moved - heading to the office door, reaching for the knob and letting it open out into the hallway - and a blessedly cool waft of air enters the room, dilutes the dizzying cocktail of pheromones they’ve created. Harry swallows, composed and professional but clearly restrained, fighting uphill against his own instincts - it’s the same look that Eggsy is sure is on his own face. “I highly suggest that you leave and return to Kingsman - you’ll be safe, there, to spend your heat in whatever way you want, and I’m sure your final test can be rescheduled to a later date.”

Eggsy nods. Standing isn’t easy; the slick between his leg starts to drip as soon as Eggsy moves, a wet trickle that’s oh so distracting; a whine builds in the back of his throat, and it takes him a moment to realize that the sound is coming from himself. But he approaches the door, shuffling a little, sweat-slick and aching and how is he supposed to make it all the way to Kingsman like this?

The closer he gets to the door, the cleaner and clearer the air; Eggsy breathes a little easier, but there’s a dark part of his hind-brain, primal and rough, that turns up its nose - that finds it wrong that their mixed scents should be washed away, left to disappear and fade. He keeps his eyes on Harry as he approaches, notes the perspiration starting to bead at Harry’s temples and his upper lip, the flush on his face, the white knuckles of his hands as he balls one into a fist and keeps the other firm on the doorknob. 

Eggsy’s not quite panting when he reaches the threshold of the office, but he’s breathing harder; his eyes flick to Harry’s, and when he takes a step closer Harry shivers bodily, pupils liquid black with desire, and he makes his decision in an instant.

He puts his hand over Harry’s on the knob, flushing at the spark of heat at the contact, and closes the door.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eggsy rasps, squeezing Harry’s hand in his. His pulse thunders in his ears, tongue thick in his mouth. “Tell me you don’t want this, that there’s nothing between us, that - that I should go, and I will.”

He swallows, and Harry stays silent, preternaturally still at his side. Their only point of contact is their hands clasped around the knob, a faint whisper as their wrists brush against each other, so hot to the touch. Harry’s finger don’t so much as twitch underneath his.

“But don’t - don’t tell me to leave because you think I don’t really want this, or because you’ve decided- fuck,” he whines, when a series of tremors wracks his body, his fingers trembling - he won’t be coherent for much longer, he knows, and this has to be said, “Wanted you since - don’t matter about my heat, I want you even when my body isn’t going bloody mad, so please, just-”

“Eggsy,” Harry inhales, and draws his hand away from the knob, out of Eggsy’s grip - and there’s a hot flash of shame in Eggsy’s gut at the rejection, his face burning and heart heavy in his chest - but then he’s flipped and pressed into the closed door before he can blink, Harry’s long fingers encircling one of his wrists and Harry’s knee between his thighs. Eggsy chokes on a gasp, his thighs falling further apart as Harry presses up against him, diving in to meet his mouth in a searing, brutal kiss. 

The only reason he’s still vertical, by the time that Harry’s lips leave his and move on to his neck, is that Harry’s weight is keeping him upright; Eggsy groans, head lolling back against the door as Harry laps at him, tasting the sweat off his skin while his hands wander south. His hands are cool against Eggsy’s overheated skin, rucking up underneath his shirt to skim across his hips and chest, thumbing a nipple before heading right for his belt. He sucks a mark onto Eggsy’s collarbone, a sharp brightness of pain that blooms in Eggsy’s mind, quickly fading and morphing to throbbing pleasure. Eggsy whines, unable to keep still, now; Harry’s touching him, and though he continues to scrabble for coherence, the need to mate - to fuck - is pounding in his blood, overriding his brain.

“Knew you could be mine,” Harry growls, tugging Eggsy’s belt open and immediately wriggling his fingers down into Eggsy’s jeans, probing for his hole - it’s already slippery-slick, oozing down his thighs, and when Harry’s fingers brush over him Eggsy jerks, mouth falling open in a moan. “Knew it from the moment I saw your face in The Black Prince, could smell your response to me-”

“Fuck, Harry,” Eggsy groans, pushing Harry’s holsters off his shoulders and fisting his hands in the fabric of his shirt, riding out the tremors that shoot up his spine when Harry rubs at his furled hole, spreads the slick across his fingers. His hole twitches and leaks, pliant under Harry’s touch, confined as it is within his jeans. It’s not nearly enough; Eggsy arches into the contact, aching for more of their skin pressed together, to feel Harry against him and inside him-

Harry must have the same thought at the same time because he wrenches away, tearing the tie from his neck and losing his glasses to somewhere across the room, mouth curled into a smirk as Eggsy’s mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest. The scent of him is even stronger, and Eggsy drinks it in like he’s parched, pulling Harry in for another filthy kiss. Harry nibbles on his lower lip, coaxes his mouth open and fucks inside with his tongue, a promise of what’s to come and Eggsy’s burning up, a time-bomb with a rapidly shortening fuse, and he whines into Harry’s mouth, writhing and ready.

Harry’s broad palms reach around to his arse - fuck, yes, perfect - and Eggsy gasps when Harry lifts him up, his legs instinctively twining around Harry’s trim hips - and like this their groins are pressed together, the thick heat of Harry’s alpha cock in the vee of Eggsy’s legs, against his own erection, and Eggsy has no control of the noises coming out of his mouth. That’s when Harry carries him, still kissing, to his desk without missing a beat, splaying Eggsy over it and leaning away so that he can tug Eggsy’s polo over his head.

“Look at you,” Harry purrs, “Gorgeous, Eggsy.” He tips Eggsy’s shoes off his feet without untying them, bares Eggsy’s skin for his eyes one piece of clothing at a time - until he’s helping Eggsy wriggle out of his jeans, Eggsy’s cock jutting up against his belly hard and red, glans exposed, leaking and twitching under Harry’s gaze, when he’s fully stripped.

Eggsy’s breath catches in his chest at how Harry’s eyes go wide and dark at the sight of him, his stomach flipping. Despite the heat clouding his brain, muddling his rational thought, there’s a satisfying sense of power in being able to bring about such a reaction in an alpha - in Harry. His eyes track down from Eggsy’s eyes to the shining hollow of his neck, down the planes of his chest to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, pink and wet and aching for Harry’s touch. And Eggsy wants that as much as he wants this - the weight of Harry’s eyes on him, hungry and approving, hands hovering uncertainly like he doesn’t know what he wants to touch first. Eggsy arches his spine, cants his hips; like this, amidst the chaos of his hastily-shed clothes and the rumpled papers on the desk, he’s like a gift unboxed and waiting. He smirks up at Harry, waggling his eyebrows coyly even as he’s out of breath from their previous snogging - and he’s dragged to the edge of the desk for his trouble, knees knocked apart for Harry to stand between them.

“You always were too cheeky for your own good,” Harry murmurs, taking Eggsy’s cock in one of his large hands without preamble; Eggsy chokes on a moan,  another gush of fluid from his arse as Harry leans in and his smell floods Eggsy’s senses. Harry isn’t shy with his teeth - he nips across Eggsy’s exposed collarbone and neck, leaves a mark on one shoulder that’s a close twin to the one he’d made before, when he’d had Eggsy up against the study door. Eggsy’s skin throbs with pleasure, oversensitive to every point of contact where Harry’s touching his skin - the chafe of Harry’s trousers against the inside of his thighs, the exquisite texture of Harry’s open shirt dragging across his nipples when he moves, the raw strength of his muscles under Eggsy’s fingers as he grips Harry’s shoulders, hangs on for dear life as Harry works his cock. 

Eggsy can barely look down, can barely look at where his cock disappears into Harry’s fist over and over; the sight of it is too much, and though he knows he’ll be coming more than once over- over the next few days with Harry, Christ - he also wants this to last. Because if it wasn’t for the electric contact between them, the sight of Harry dark-eyed and rumpled above him, the heady smell of their mixing scents that’s better than he’d ever imagined - if it wasn’t so real and right that he can feel it in his bones, then it would be all too easy to believe that this is a dream. Already he can feel the crescendo of orgasm in his blood, the flush of heat in his skin that makes the room feel alternately too cool and stiflingly warm as he ricochets between the maddening rush of sensations.

Harry hums, pleased, when he finally takes his hand of Eggsy’s cock and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of Eggsy’s precome off of them with a moan.  Eggsy has a sudden flash of a vision - of Harry bent over his cock, getting a proper taste of him - or, God, even lower, pressing his tongue to Eggsy’s hole to lap up the pooling slick at the source-

His cock throbs, and Harry raises an eyebrow at the muffled sob that gets trapped in Eggsy’s throat, pulling his fingers away with an obscene pop. His lips are reddened - from kissing him, Eggsy thinks dizzily, mind still whirling with thoughts of what else that mouth could do - and Harry smirks. He gives his fingers another long lick, knuckles to tip, and Eggsy’s breath catches in his chest when Harry trails his fingers downward, down from Eggsy’s knee to his pale inner thigh, leaving a wet line heading straight for his hole.

Eggsy shudders when Harry’s fingertips graze past his balls, cool and probing, his mind narrowing to focus on the sensation and the agonizing inch-by-inch until Harry’s fingers find their target. There’s a warmth in Harry’s eyes that tell of something beyond the cloudy lust of heat and rut, a look that keeps him pinned down, bared and open just for him.

When Harry finally does touch him, nudges his fingers just barely against the sensitive rim of Eggsy’s hole - something in him unfolds, the tension in his spine loosening and his legs splaying further apart, relaxed. And - this has never happened before; he’s all pliant and loose-limbed, the engulfing haze of the heat still present, the hunger to be filled still there in his mind - but it’s no longer quite the same mindless drive of his previous heats. The sharp ache to be filled has dulled, and a honey-sweet, satisfied feeling of indulgence wells up in him. He rolls his hips, experimentally, into Harry’s touch, and grins at the delicious feeling of Harry’s fingertips skimming through the slick liquid of his arse, the spark-like sensations as they tease to dip inside - something in his hind-brain has shifted, preparing for a marathon rather than a sprint. He knows Harry’s going to give it to him good - going to give him his knot.

“Fuuuck,” Eggsy drawls, jaw dropped open and smiling all the while Harry teases him, using two fingers to explore how wet and tender Eggsy is. From the matching smile on his face, Harry’s enjoying it as much as Eggsy is, his other hand leaving possessive bruises on Eggsy’s hip as he leans over him.

“Good to know you - mmm,” Harry hums, pleased, when his fingers slip easily inside the hot ring of muscle and Eggsy’s breath hitches at the easy intrusion, “good to know you haven’t completely lost the ability to talk.”

“Give it a day,” Eggsy laughs, attempting to squirm down on Harry’s fingers - and Harry lets him, ‘til he’s knuckle-deep in Eggsy’s arse and Eggsy sighs at the rightness of how they fill him, even though it’s not quite enough. The urgency has dulled enough that he can enjoy the build-up, enjoy the slick feeling of his skin against Harry’s where he’s started to sweat, the evolving scent in the air as their pheromones mix, the ache in his arse that’s returning as his body acclimates to Harry’s thick fingers, already wanting more. “What- ahhh, like my mouth, do you?”

The words slur a little bit - the rising want is swelling inside him again, dizzying; sparks shooting up his spine as Harry plays with the swollen rim of his hole, building a languid rhythm with each thrust of his fingers. 

“Hadn’t you noticed?” Harry asked, his tone rough but remarkably composed for the fact that he’s nearly panting, eyes dark and wide and fixed on the point where his fingers are inside Eggsy. He runs his thumb across the rim of Eggsy’s hole with his fingers still inside; Eggsy feels himself clench and shudder involuntarily, tightening around Harry’s fingers under the waves of sensation. He’s leaking impossible more; at this rate, they’re going to need a towel to clean up the mess on Harry’s desk.

Well, considering they’re at the start of Eggsy’s heat, they’re going to need towels regardless, he thinks giddily.

Eggsy doesn’t have the time to quip back a reply, because Harry’s twisting his fingers inside him and pressing deeper, searching for that spot inside of him. And the fucking gorgeous, perfect bastard alpha that he is, it doesn’t take long. With a gasp Eggsy arches his back, caught between moving away from the overwhelming sensation and curling into it; Harry grazes his fingers over his prostate again, and Eggsy keens.

Harry’s practically purring when Eggsy opens his eyes again and meets his gaze - he’d screwed his eyes shut without even realizing, blinded by sensation as he was - and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to do much more than raise an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. Harry pushes his fingers in again - three this time, the added girth is enough to make Eggsy moan - and his fingertips barely graze Eggsy’s prostate; it’s still enough that his body twitches, like electricity is running though him at Harry’s touch. That’s almost what it feels like, too, with an added layer of prickling warmth at the nape of his neck that Eggsy knows is his heat growing in intensity. He swallows a groan, stretching languidly and pressing into Harry’s next gentle thrust. The hot, sloppy feeling of heat is starting to return, now that he’s grown used to Harry’s touch, and this isn’t quite enough.

“Ain’t gonna make me wait much longer, are you?” he grumbles, aiming for annoyed but sounding, even to his own ears, mostly breathy and pleasure-drunk. Harry chuckles, turning his face to press open-mouthed kisses to the soft inside of Eggsy’s knee. There’s a fondness in his eyes that makes another kind of warmth curl in Eggsy’s chest, one that has him gasping at the next inward thrust even more - because Harry’s still looking at him like that, adoring and a little possessive, and it’s hard not to think that maybe this feels so right because- because this is-

“I think you’re probably ready, darling,” Harry says, interrupting his thoughts. Eggsy blinks, whining when Harry pulls his fingers out and away - only to hold them up for Eggsy, smirking at how obviously, glisteningly wet they are.

“Fuck, yes, come on,”  Eggsy sighs, but grins, waggling his eyebrows and hooking his legs around Harry’s back, tightening to pull him closer to the edge of the desk, “Want your knot already, please, Harry-”

Harry bats his legs apart again, smoothing from knee to calf to ankle with each large hand, pressing Eggsy’s feet firmly in place and then shooting him an amused look, like he expects them to stay there. The touch does little to quiet Eggsy’s nerves; it’s really happening, a small part of him whispers, excitement and nervousness coiling in his belly despite how ready and truly eager he is. He can only have one first time, after all - one first time with an alpha, one first time with Harry Hart, and for all that he’s ready to be filled with Harry’s knot, his nerves have finally sat up and made themselves known again.

But Harry can read him - either from the lines of his body or his scent in the air - and he cups Eggsy’s jaw, leans in to press a kiss to his mouth and then one to his forehead, achingly tender and sweet.

“If you don’t want this-” he starts to say, and Eggsy leans up to kiss him, cutting him off there.

“Of course I want this,” Eggsy grumbles, “I told you - I want this, I’ve imagined this-”

“Can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” Harry tells him, raising his eyebrows. There’s a dark heat there, still, barely restrained, and the words are no sooner out of his mouth than Harry’s nosing forward, running his nose down Eggsy’s neck to mouth at the spot he’d already bitten. A shiver runs down Eggsy’s spine - but it’s definitely the hot-cold thrill of excitement, a push of adrenaline in his veins in anticipation of - of this.

“Didn’t say I wanted you to be,” Eggsy finally says, biting his lip to stifle the moans that are threatening to come out of his mouth. Harry pulls back, eyes heavy with want, and runs his thumb across Eggsy’s bitten lower lip.

“Well, then,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to his lips, “don’t be quiet on my account. Wasn’t lying about your mouth - I very much want to hear you.”

Eggsy’s breath hitches, and his nipples perk at the cool air that rushes in when Harry pulls away. He stands upright so he can properly shed his rumpled shirt and kick off his trousers, and when his pants join the pile of clothing on the floor, Eggsy’s mouth waters.

Harry’s cock is gorgeous and large - as any alpha cock ought to be - with one vein creasing the underside, flushed red and wet at the head where his foreskin is already pulled back. Eggsy can feel the blood heat radiating from it, and Harry’s heady, musky scent only grows stronger now that he’s fully bared. Its girth is impressive, far more than the three fingers he’d teased and prepared Eggsy with, and at first blush Eggsy can’t help but imagine getting his mouth on it. There's still days of his heat, yet - maybe, he thinks dizzily, at some point he'll get a taste.

“Jesus Christ,” Eggsy swears, licking his lips. He has to swallow, for all the saliva gathering in his mouth. Harry jerks himself a few times, spreading the precome that’s gathered at the tip of his cock, working it from root to crown, and Eggsy feels faint at the sight.

“Harry Hart,” Harry quips, and with two strong hands, drags Eggsy closer to the edge of the desk. Eggsy doesn’t yelp - but he does gasp at the first contact of Harry’s cock against his hole, the head of it hot and slick and spongy-soft. He feels himself clench, involuntarily, and then relax open even further; each of Harry’s touches unwinds him, bit by bit, hands caressing the backs of his thighs and hips and chest until he’s unspooled, loose-limbed with pleasure. The gaping feeling of emptiness is like an itch, now that he’s gotten a taste of being filled by Harry’s fingers.

By the time Harry’s decided that Eggsy’s ready, he’s nearly whining for it, clutching at Harry’s upper arms and squirming for purchase, trying to fuck himself down on Harry’s cock under his own power. Harry just smirks, adjusting his grip on Eggsy’s hips one final time before pushing home in one slow thrust.

Eggsy moans, head thrown back in pleasure as inch after inch of Harry’s cock - thick and wet and hot, so hot - fills him until he’s gasping. There’s not enough air in the room; it’s potent with their combined scents, now even more madding that they’re joined together and Eggsy can’t tell if what’s coming out of his mouth is words or not, he’s just lost in the searingly perfect feeling of Harry inside him, Harry carving out a space for himself inside of him.

He’s brought back to earth by Harry running a quieting hand down his chest, slick against the sweaty surface of his skin. Eggsy cracks an eye open; Harry looks as thoroughly destroyed as Eggsy feels, and that’s oddly comforting - until Harry pulls out and thrusts in again, shallowly, and Eggsy’s mind is overloaded with sensation.

They build a lazy rhythm, at first, their urgency tempered by the overwhelming feel of this - of each other. But the heat pulls them deeper, urges them to move faster, harder. They pant into each other’s open mouths, kissing sloppy and wet - as much as they can manage under the brutal drive to fuck. There’s a bone-deep rightness, though, at being filled - at being pinned down by Harry, taken and filled with his cock. The warm, sticky-sweet feeling of satisfaction is back, and Eggsy grins even as his mouth drops open in another groan - because yes, this is perfect, and he couldn’t have imagined that this would be nearly as perfect as it is.

Harry smiles down at him, when he sees Eggsy’s grin; Eggsy nips at his lips, laughs when their coupling becomes so vigorous that it shakes Harry’s pen-and-ink stand off his desk, to fall with a muffled thump to the floor. Harry only thrusts into him harder, for that, and Eggsy would have a witty retort if he’d been able to form sentences - but Harry wedges his hands underneath Eggsy’s arse and drags him even closer, changing the angle so that the head of his cock glances across Eggsy’s prostate with every snap of his hips, and Eggsy's gone.

Eggsy’s voice cracks when he wines, wordless and climbing higher; there’s a tension winding in his gut, a tremble forming in his thigh, and he knows he’s getting closer.

He rides the endless pleasure that fizzes up his spine and radiates down, all the way to his toes and fingertips in bubbly, spark-like bursts every time Harry moves. He meets Harry thrust for thrust, ankles hooked together at Harry’s lower back and urging him faster, harder as his blood thunders in his ears. He uses every ounce of muscle and gained flexibility that’s come from Kingsman training and throws it behind the singular purpose of mating, responding to the fierce passion Harry gives him with plenty of his own. Because for the first time, he lets himself enjoy it - can let himself enjoy it; with an alpha to sate the animal desire, to fill him and fuck him ‘til he can’t remember his own name, he can sink into the mindless pleasure of it and let himself be carried away.

What little is left of his mind that can find words amidst the haze of heat whispers that it’s not just an alpha, it’s Harry, and the word that had flitted at the edge of his mind before skids across his brain - mate. 

The coil of tension in his gut intensifies and his cock throbs at the thought. Harry, his mate. His fingers flex in the meat of Harry’s upper arms, leaving bright lines on Harry’s skin - which sends a thrill up his spine, possessive and satisfied that he’s left his own mark. Eggsy stares, eyes moving from the taut muscles in Harry’s arms up to his chest, to the sweat gathering at the hollow of his collarbone and the firm column of his neck. The sudden, blunt want hits him full-force: he needs to get his teeth into Harry, too, has to give him a mark just as Harry had marked him.

He pries his damp hands away so that he can wrap them around the back of Harry’s neck, tugging him down so that Harry’s shoulder is within reach of his mouth. Harry grunts, but doesn’t resist; when he thrusts into Eggsy again, bottoming out with an obscene, slick noise, the base of his swelling knot slips inside.

Eggsy howls, arches into Harry again, presses up against Harry’s chest and the warm weight of him, scrabbles for purchase on Harry’s slick skin. It’s too much and it’s perfect, the press of the knot inside of him swelling as they work each other to orgasm, stroke after stroke of Harry’s cock inside of him. Harry pulls out fully and pushes in again, presses until his knot edges inside Eggsy’s hole again, tortuously thick and blood-hot. Eggsy can’t help but squirm - so, so full with Harry’s knot inside of him, growing bigger by the second and pressing up inside just so, just where he needs -

“Eggsy,” Harry murmurs, pushing deeper with shallow thrusts, the most he can do with his knot beginning to tie them in place, “Gorgeous, my gorgeous - Eggsy-”

“Yours,” Eggsy pants open-mouthed, tremors causing the muscles in his thighs to jump and his hole beginning to twitch and clench more vigorously, milking Harry’s cock with every stroke. “’M yours, Harry - fuck, all yours.”

Harry growls, mouthing along Eggsy’s neck, grinds forward with all he has. “Mine,” he grunts, fucking into Eggsy just so, the head of his cock grazing against Eggsy’s prostate and his knot sealing them together. Eggsy groans deep in his throat, caught between the heavy fullness of Harry’s knot inside him and the electric-hot sensation of Harry’s cock rubbing just like that, inching little movements that are driving him mad, so full and wet and driving him over the edge-

Eggsy comes with a shout, bow-taut and tight around Harry like a vice; he bites into Harry’s shoulder to stifle the noise, cock pulsing between them where it’s rubbed pink and raw. Harry gasps his name, knot swelling impossibly further, and through the haze of heat and orgasm Eggsy feels the slick wetness inside him as Harry fills him with pulse after pulse of come. They shake apart, trembling in each others’ arms as the blinding high of mindless want clears, leaving them sated and sticky and locked together.

“Sorry,” Eggsy mumbles, collapsing back into the desk with the boneless ease of the well-fucked. Harry’s knot prevents them from parting - like he wants to be away from Harry after that, Eggsy thinks with a snort. Christ. That’s the best fucking he’s ever gotten, heat or no heat, and he doesn’t plan on letting Harry out of his sight any time soon.

Harry gently settles his weight on top of Eggsy, propping himself up on his elbows to either side of Eggsy’s chest. “Sorry for what?” he says, slurring a little, and Eggsy grins shyly up at him. Harry’s normally coiffed hair is hilariously unkempt and sweat, falling into his face in greying curls that shouldn’t be so endearing. His eyes are still a little wide-blown, but there’s enough of the warm brown of his irises that he looks - well, he looks like Harry again, not just an alpha reacting to the heat of an omega. Eggsy’s stomach flips at the fondness in Harry’s tone, and when Harry reaches out a hand to cup Eggsy’s cheek, he nuzzles into Harry’s palm with a satisfied smile.

“Did a right number on your shoulder,” Eggsy nods to the red mark, feeling his cheeks heat as he does so. The love bite is a rather obvious impression of Eggsy’s upper teeth.

“Turnabout is fair play,” Harry smiles, raising his eyebrows towards the hickeys on Eggsy’s neck - one on each side, Eggsy remembers as he feels them gently with his fingers. They’re warm to the touch, still damp from Harry’s mouth. He can’t wait to see them in a mirror, later.

“All’s fair in love in war,” he replies, and shudders with pleasure when Harry’s cock twitches inside of him again, sensitive to every movement.

Harry purses his lips, but his eyes twinkle with a smile. “Is that what that is, then?” he asks, and leans in to nuzzle the soft place underneath Eggsy’s ear, kissing each mark in turn before pulling back to meet Eggsy’s eyes. Eggsy bites his lip, unable to fight the grin worming its way onto his face.

“Said I was yours, ain’t I?” he says softly, lacing his fingers with Harry’s even though they’re both damp and a little clammy. Harry’s tender gaze is worth it, and he leans in to kiss Eggsy properly on the mouth this time.

“Turnabout, then- ” he murmurs to Eggsy’s lips, letting his mouth graze Eggsy’s with every word - and he’s smiling, Eggsy can feel it, “-means that I’m yours, as well.”

Eggsy laughs, and tugs Harry down to kiss him once, twice, more times than he can keep track of; he loses count rather quickly, and that's all right. Because for all the ways this could've worked out - this is by far the best, and it's still only the first time of many.