His hair isn’t the right mix of silver and brown, doesn’t flop just so to the right. His accent is too coarse, not smooth like two hundred year old brandy. In other words - he’s not Harry Hart. But in the dark of the alley behind the Black Prince, Eggsy can close his eyes, breathe in the musky scent of sex and arousal, and pretend for just a little while that the hand in his hair is Harry’s...that the cock in his mouth is, too.
“Yeah, that’s it...c’mon, then, choke on it, little whore…”
Eggsy has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He’s got the guy down to the root, weren’t nothing left to choke on, sorry to say. Instead, he does his best to lose himself in the fantasy, tongue swirling expertly before lifting his mouth off and he looks up at the guy. “Tell me what you want, daddy. All the dirty things you want me to do, tell me.” His voice takes on a note of pleading. He needs this so bad. “I’ll be your good boy, daddy,” he whispers.
The guy seems thrown for half a second before a dark light flashes in his not-the-right-shade-of-brown eyes and the hand in Eggsy’s hair tightens to just skirt the edge of painful. His cock throbs in response and a rush of need leaves him breathless as the john shoves his cock back into his mouth, hips jerking in a fruitless effort to make Eggsy choke.
Good luck with that. His gag reflex is long since a thing of the past. Eggsy fakes a few coughs to placate him, though.
The dank air of the alleyway is filled with the sounds of face-fucking and hoarsely whispered, filthy demands and degrading names that Eggsy knows are meant to make him feel used and dirty down to his soul. And in fact...they do. Which is precisely the thing he craves more than he craves his next breath. The only thing better would be Harry giving him those feelings, if it were Harry who drags him to his feet a few seconds later and slams him against the brick to jack him rough and fast until Eggsy comes hard in sticky ropes all over hands that are not nearly as elegant nor anywhere close to as beautiful as the hands of one Harry Hart.
Which is why every time Eggsy comes down here, reliving days of his youth, trying desperately to fill the need he’s always had and Harry refuses to sate...every time, he leaves having only just curbed the hunger inside. Never sated, never satisfied. Still starving, still demanding. There’s only one thing capable of really filling up that gnawing, insistent need eating away inside of him - and unfortunately for Eggsy, Harry has already made it perfectly clear that is 100%, no question Never. Going. To. Happen.
And so Eggsy comes, whenever the yearning gets to be too much, the tension too heavy, usually after a particularly intense mission. Back to his stomping grounds, back to the corner on Smith street where he can maybe, sometimes, find a man who looks enough like Harry, sounds even a little like him, who’ll let Eggsy get just a little taste of what it’d be like.
It is never enough.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Where were you last night? I called to see if you wanted to join me and Percival for a drink but your phone was off.”
Eggsy blinks, for a second still a bit too lost in his thoughts to catch Roxy’s question. “Sorry, what?”
Her perfectly groomed brows knit and she tilts her head in that quiet, inquisitive way she has. “What is going on with you this morning? I asked how come you didn’t answer your phone last night.” A smile touches her lips. “Got yourself a bit of fun finally?”
Eggsy smiles weakly in return, though it’s hard to muster. “You could say that, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, but you probably had more fun just the two of you,” he teases. He’s happy for Rox, and Percival is pretty much perfect for her, but it really rubs his nose in it, their relationship, because if nobody has a problem with Roxy falling for her mentor, then it means that the reason Harry doesn’t want him is...well, simply that Harry doesn’t want him. And that fucking hurts, okay?
They both glance up as the door to Merlin’s office opens and Harry steps out. Rox lets out a soft sigh.
“Well, I’m glad you’re seeing somebody,” she says, leaning in and lowering her voice. “He’s a damn fool and it’s his loss, yeah?”
Eggsy nods, though he can’t quite manage conviction in his voice. “Yeah. His loss.” He watches Harry disappear past them down the hall with the barest nod of acknowledgment in Eggsy’s direction and sighs. “C’mon, then, let’s get this meeting over with and then you can tell me all about the trouble you got into last night.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Eggsy Unwin is going to be the death of him, Harry is sure of it. Of all the things he’d always imagined would take him out in the end, he never considered death at the hands of an overly-affectionate, relentlessly charming, green-eyed boy with a body that would make Michelangelo reach for a slab of marble and a chisel.
And yet here he is, neck-deep undercover with Eggsy tucked in close against him in a nightclub booth, playing ever so perfectly the role of Harry’s much too young arm candy. And damn if he doesn’t play the role of the sexed-up tart just a touch too well for Harry’s liking. His breath is warm and sweet with whatever citrus-y thing he’s drinking, puffing softly against Harry’s neck as Eggsy whispers to him what he overheard in the restroom just minutes ago.
Harry is having a very hard time focusing on the intel when Eggsy’s leg is slinking across his lap, his long fingers toying teasingly with Harry’s tie and oh, oh those lips keep brushing against his neck, in that tender spot just under his ear and...bloody hell, he can only hope Merlin is able to hear and record every word, because Harry’s capacity for remembering the details is slipping away faster with every rub of Eggsy’s knee against his thigh and every touch of damp breath on his skin.
“Want me to go see if I can get more, Harry?” Eggsy breathes, his breath hitching a little when Harry’s hand on his back slides a bit lower to splay across his hip, preventing him from pulling away.
Harry shakes his head, not looking down at him. “No. Stay here. We...don’t want to make anyone suspicious.” He swears he hears a soft snort in his ear and scowls. “Shut it, you nosey git,” he mutters. At least he knows Merlin is listening and likely recording as well. For the intel, of course. The intel.
“What?” Eggsy asks, and Harry does look down at him now. His green eyes are darker here in the dim club lighting, touched at the edges with some kind of dark smudgy makeup Roxy had done for him, because ‘he’s got to look the part, doesn’t he?’ Harry has to admit, just that touch of shadow takes Eggsy from handsome to...something else. Pretty. Sultry, even.
He shakes his head in response. “Merlin.”
“Ah. So...that enough, then? Looks like O'Connell's leaving with his boys...we gonna follow them?”
Christ. Yes, the mission. Harry glances across the club at their target and his herd of goons, then shakes his head, dipping to press his mouth against Eggsy’s ear. “No. We know where he’ll be next week, that’s all we needed. We’ll take him out then, when he’s vulnerable.”
Yet he doesn’t move from his spot. Doesn’t let Eggsy go. Closes his eyes and maybe even turns his face a touch into the boy’s warm neck. Nuzzles just a bit. Eggsy’s breath does more than hitch this time, it breaks and is punctuated with a soft gasp. It would be so, so easy to simply trail his mouth across that strong jaw, seek out those cherry lips and taste him for good and all. Take what Eggsy offers up so freely. His for the taking, the boy is, and god help him, Harry is no saint despite the way Eggsy sometimes looks at him.
But he also isn’t one to take advantage of a very young boy’s hero worship, his lack of a father figure, his vulnerability whether Eggsy sees it as such or not. And so he pulls away, makes himself let go of Eggsy’s hip and shift a bit of space between them.
Immediately, the tension that’s been building all night dies a cold death. A curtain comes down over those pretty green eyes, and the smile fades from soft, flushed lips. Eggsy nods, sitting up and letting out a breath.
“Right. Right, then. Let’s go, if you don’t mind?”
Harry nods, part of him wanting to reach out, to soothe his boy, dammit. But that's the whole point, isn’t it? Eggsy isn’t his. He repeats it to himself as if he can make the truth of it stick. Eggsy isn’t his.
So when they arrive at the building where Eggsy has shared a flat with Roxy for the last year, Harry doesn’t ask to come up. The smile Eggsy gives him is half what it should be, what Harry knows it can be when it’s real and full. He gives a weak one of his own before Eggsy slips out of the car and disappears into the building, leaving Harry with a heartache and a hard-on, neither of which is going to be going away anytime soon.
~ ~ ~ ~
By the time Eggsy makes it upstairs and to the window overlooking the street, Harry’s car is gone. He always checks, though, some part of him maybe hoping one day Harry will still be down there, leaning against his car and looking up at the window. Waiting for Eggsy to come back down and take him by the hand and bring him upstairs for a lot more than a nightcap.
Not tonight. Not ever, Eggsy, you great idiot. His jaw tightens and next thing he knows, he's grabbing his keys and heading right back out the door. He’s already dressed like a cheap little whore. Time to go do more than just look the part.