“Good job, Galahad. I’ll send in the aftercare team to clean up. Head on home, just get me your report by morning.” Merlin sounds bloody pleased, and well he should, considering the size of the trafficking ring they’d broken up tonight. Half a dozen international kingpins, enough weapons to take out a small country and leads on the man at the top of the food chain running the whole thing. A good night’s work.
“Understood. I’m just going to make one last sweep, before the local boys come in here like bulls in a china shop, destroying my very nice crime scene.”
Merlin snorts softly. “They’re highly trained professionals, Galahad, you could be less of an ass.”
Harry grins. “I could, but where is the fun in that? Goodnight, Merlin, see you in the morning.”
He taps the arm of his glasses, shutting off the feed and lets out a calming breath as he glances around the warehouse. It isn’t so much that he feels the need to make sure nothing’s been missed and more that he finds it grounding, a way to let go of the almost frenetic energy of a mission, to have a few moments to himself in the space. It’s a ritual he can’t really explain, but has become necessary. Merlin will no doubt make sure the aftercare team, otherwise known as the local police service, won’t show for at least another ten minutes.
He makes his way slowly through the building, not really looking for anything in particular, just looking, fingers brushing over the crates and walls, something tactile and soothing about the silence where just moments before chaos had reigned.
He’s making his way toward the exit when a sound catches his attention, his gun drawn and at the ready in a heartbeat. He eases silently toward the origin of the sound - a stack of weapons crates a good six feet high at the end of one narrow aisle. The closer he gets, he can hear the sound of ragged breath and he reaches up to tap his glasses, opening the feed again though he doesn’t say a word. Merlin will observe unless it turns out he needs assistance.
When he’s just a few yards from the stack of crates, he stops and clears his throat. “I’d suggest you come out very, very carefully. I’m sure you saw what I am capable of, so let’s not be foolish, shall we?”
There’s a moment of silence in which Harry tenses, preparing for an attack, but then the shadows on the wall shift and his stance eases as a young man steps out from behind the crates. He’s young, and Harry’s immediate thought is he must belong to one of the dealers, because he’s far too young, far too pretty and his jeans are far too tight to be an arms dealer himself.
“Ain’t done nuffin’ wrong.” The boy’s chin tilts defiantly, eyes narrowed under his snapback.
Harry’s brows lift. “No? Do you often find yourself in the middle of an illegal weapons trade gone wrong, then? Wrong place, wrong time? What’s your name, boy.”
The young man sniffs, shrugging loosely. “Don’t gotta tell you.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the ugly black and gold jacket he wore stretching across broad shoulders. “Gonna arrest me for jus’ standin’ here?”
“His name’s Gary Unwin, Harry. Facial recognition found quite the record for such a young lad. B & E’s, a string of petty theft, drugs - both use and sales - and...a couple collars for solicitation.” Merlin sighs. “A bit of trouble, this one is, just hold tight to him until aftercare gets there, let them deal with him.”
It’s a logical notion, and Harry nods imperceptibly, then waves his gun slightly. “Come on, then, out to the front. Whatever the case, the local authorities can sort it out. Gary, is it?”
Clever green eyes widen slightly and for a second he looks as young as he is - and afraid. “How did ya… don’t call me that. It’s Eggsy, thanks,” he snaps, then finally follows Harry’s instruction to lead the way out of the narrow aisle into the open space of the warehouse.
“Eggsy it is, then, fine by me. As I said, the locals are on their way and I'll leave it to them to decide whether you go home or to the station.”
Eggsy makes a scoffing sound. “Below your pay grade, eh guv?”
Harry’s lips twitch. He always did have a bit of a soft spot for boys full of sass. Just ask Merlin. Speaking of - “I’ve got this, Merlin.” He taps his glasses again. “What are you doing here?”
Eggsy stares at him for a second. “That like that Google glass stuff?”
“Close. What are you doing here, Eggsy?” he asks again, more firmly this time.
“Don’t gotta tell you nuffin’.”
Harry shrugs. “Well no, but we have a bit of time before the others arrive...that’s fine, I’m sure you’ll find a night spent in lock up a very pleasant experience.”
The young man rolls his eyes. “Please. You tryin’ to scare me? Think I ain't never got snatched by the coppers before?” Then his gaze turns calculating, almost predatory. “Why, you offerin’ a solution to my little problem, eh?”
The next thing Harry knows, he’s got a full on seductress in the form of an 18 year old (god, he hopes he’s 18) chav boy in his personal space, cherry-red lips curved in a wicked smile and slender, clever fingers dancing their way up his tie to tease the knot at his throat.
“Got a trade in mind, bruv?” Eggsy asks, brows lifting. “I could blow your fuckin’ mind, I could.”
Fucking hell, Harry believes him, too. There’s more erotica in his tone and his dancing fingers than in another boy’s entire body. Yes, Harry very much believes that Eggsy can, and would, blow his fucking mind.
And suddenly - despite the fact that no, he had not been considering any such arrangement - suddenly the idea is planted firmly in his mind and damned if his cock isn’t eagerly interested. He can’t, though. He shouldn’t, at least. But...he could, actually. He hesitates, undecided for the moment.
His gaze drops to that soft, flushed mouth, something inside him turning hungry. “That I believe. For a boy who’s so completely innocent, as you keep assuring me...you seem awfully eager to offer your - shall we say, services? - to a man in the neighborhood of three times your age.”
Instead of dissuading him, Eggsy’s eyes flicker and he sways closer, letting out a soft, broken off moan. “Fuck, you that much older? Hell yes, I love the daddies.” His grin edges on filthy and sends a bolt of lust straight to Harry’s cock. “Wanna be my daddy, then?”
Fuck. Yes, yes he does. For a fleeting moment, Harry has the thought that he’s breaking more than one Kingsman protocol, but on its heels is the thought that Merlin owes him enough favors to cover one little indecent proposal. And, well….whatever comes after that.
“Yes, please,” Harry says with a wicked grin of his own. He tucks his gun away - he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it still - and takes Eggsy’s arm. “Come on, before the clean up crew arrives. Round back here.” He indicates the rear exit and Eggsy just shrugs and lets Harry propel him forward and through the door, on into his car.
“I know a spot, safe ‘n all, nobody’ll bother us.”
Harry shakes his head with a small laugh. “No. I have no intention of fucking you in the backseat. I live not far from here.” He glances over at his passenger. “Buckle up.”
Eggsy’s brows lift with an incredulous look, but he obeys and Harry finds it a good sign for the rest of the evening - he does so love a boy who can do as he’s told.
For a bit, the ride is silent. Not awkwardly so, more of a heavy, anticipatory silence. It’s at the first red light that Harry breaks the tension. “Open your trousers.”
He can feel Eggsy’s surprise, his eyes on him, but Harry doesn’t look at him, waiting for him to obey. There’s a soft, shuddering sigh and then the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering. When the light turns green, Harry pulls away, then reaches across to find the boy’s cock hard under the thin material of his underwear. He gives a slow, tight stroke through the fabric, lips twitching at the long groan Eggsy lets out, his hips shifting in the seat.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” he whispers. Harry risks a glance to find his head tipped back against the seat, mouth fallen open, a hint of pink tongue slipping out to wet his lips.
Harry puts his hand back on the wheel, eyes back on the road as he whisks them as fast as he safely can towards his home. “Now take it out.”
The sound Eggsy lets out is more a whimper than a moan, and a slight rustle tells Harry he’s obeying yet again. His own cock is aching inside his pants. Reaching over again, this time Harry’s fingers close snugly around hot, hard flesh and the boy jolts, a soft ‘thud’ as his head drops back against the headrest heavily.
“Fuck...what...ya never tol’ me your name,” he pants, hips lifting into the slow, almost idle strokes Harry is giving him.
He thinks back a bit, then laughs. “You’re right, I didn’t, did I? Well, that’s alright, little one. You can just call me Daddy.” There’s something dark and sexy about it - the boy doesn’t even know his name, he’s given himself to Harry for the night...he can do anything he wants with him. Can and likely will, actually. His stomach tightens sharply with desire. It’s been a very long time since he had this kind of reaction to anyone and it’s almost shocking how intense things have gotten so quickly.
Whatever happens in the morning, the boy is all his for the night. Harry has no intention of letting a minute go to waste.