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The Manner of Giving

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The one thing Eggsy knows is that posh birds love a bit of rough. It's a broad statement and he knows there are a fair few who would argue with him, but so far as he knows, it's true, and he knows this from experience. He's seen ladies draped in finery follow him with a heavy gaze, even felt their nimble hands sneak out to cop a feel.

He's had women lean forward with interest when he opens his mouth and his accent slips out. He's seen the way they practically salivate over him, wanting anything he'll give them, whether it's a flirty conversation or three fingers up inside them, fucking them hard and fast, driving them into a strong, heady orgasm that their husbands could never even dream of giving them.

The thing about his blanket statement is that it also applies to posh blokes. They’re different than the women; not as subtle, but Eggsy appreciates that. He likes the way they know what they want, how they clutch at his slim hips with age-worn hands as they fuck him, the way they last longer than kids Eggsy's age; they give him something to feel in the morning.

Not that Eggsy is ever there when that happens. He has a habit of slipping out in the early hours of dawn, gone before these businessmen even have long enough to regret him; to worry about how they're going to politely ask Eggsy to leave. It works for him and it works for them—not that he’s ever thanked for it. No one gets a second night with him, though to be honest, it’s made easier by the fact that these men and women just aren’t in the city long enough for a second round.

Except then Eggsy meets Harry Hart.


It’s been a quiet week, but there’s a man at the hotel bar on Friday night that he hasn’t seen before.

As per usual, Eggsy slips onto a stool off to the side and greets the bartender with a tip of his head.

“Hey, Roxy,” he says and she offers him a smile in greeting.

“The usual?” she asks with a small smirk and anyone else would think she was talking about a drink, but Eggsy knows her better than that.

His gaze slips across to the man, who’s paying more attention to his drink than them, and nods.

“The usual,” Eggsy agrees.

Though they may not be talking about drinks, Roxy nevertheless navigates around the bar as though she’s been working there her whole life—practically has now—and fixes him a gin and tonic, which she slides down the bartop towards him, like in the old fashion western movies.

He catches it with a soft laugh that grows when some ends up spilling over his hand and wrist. He shakes it off with a grin at Roxy, ready to wipe it straight onto his jeans when he feels the sensation of a gaze upon him. When he glances up, he finds the man from before now staring at him, his eyes light but intrigued.

Eggsy holds it for just a second too long, just enough to show his interest before he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth and slowly slips them into his mouth. He expects the man to blink and glance away, to flush with shame at the pure suggestion. He doesn’t look like the kind of man that would be into a boy like Eggsy, regardless of how posh he is.

But his gaze doesn’t even waver. In fact, he casually brings his glass up to his mouth and sips at his martini, seeming nonplussed about the whole affair. Eggsy draws his fingers free, offers the man a small smile, and then winks.

As far as hints go, it’s a pretty big one. But the man just takes another sip of his drink and watches him silently.

Eggsy blinks, moves his gaze to the rows of bottles behind the bar, and picks up his glass for a hearty draw of his drink. He dislikes the ones that are too proud to act, the ones who let their gazes wander, but not their hands.

“How is it?” Roxy asks and Eggsy eyes her up with a disappointed expression.

“Old and bitter,” he tells her and she shrugs loosely.

“Plenty of other drinks in the bar,” she says and Eggsy knows she’s right.

In fact, as the words die away, another man enters the bar, slipping into the seat two down from Eggsy. He casts a brief glance at the man at the end and a lingering glance at Eggsy, before offering a smile to Roxy and quietly ordering a scotch. There’s a ring on the man’s finger that won’t stop Eggsy in the slightest and it glints in the light when he takes the glass Roxy passes him.

He tilts his tumbler towards Eggsy in a silent toast and Eggsy cocks an eyebrow at him, smirking around the rim of his own glass as he drinks to it. As Roxy said: plenty more drinks in the bar.

He drains the last of it, sets it back down on the circle of condensation already on the countertop, and thinks about moving into the seat beside the new strange because there’s only so long he can wait with his cock half-hard in his jeans.

He’s just about to stand when there’s movement across the bar where stranger one is now standing, looking ready to leave. Good riddance, Eggsy thinks. It’ll just give him more privacy to chat up the newer stranger. However, instead of slipping out the door, the stranger moves to Eggsy’s side, not making a sound, but the warmth of his body apparent.

“Another?” the man asks, his voice smoother than anything Eggsy could have imagined.

His stomach flips with interest and he glances over his shoulder, keeping the movement casual.

“You offering?” he asks and the man’s gaze is calculating.

“Harry Hart,” the man—Harry—says. “And, yes, it’s an offer.”

Eggsy lets a lazy smile spread across his face.

“Eggsy,” he gives in return, but nothing more, earning the briefest quirk of Harry’s mouth in response.

“Well, Eggsy,” Harry drawls easily. “I believe I have something old and bitter for you upstairs. My room has a minibar, you see.”

Harry Hart may be the best man Eggsy has come across yet. Well, he hasn’t come across him yet, but he plans to, preferably while riding him hard and fast with Harry’s hand on his cock.

“Is that so, guv?” Eggsy asks. “I have to warn you, I’m a cheap drunk.”

“You think I’m low enough to take advantage of a nice, young, intoxicated man?”

“I’m counting on it,” Eggsy replies smoothly, “because the only thing true about what you said is that I’m a young man.”

“Yet old enough to order drinks,” Harry continues, which Eggsy knows is really just a roundabout way of checking that he isn’t going to be arrested for fucking Eggsy into his mattress; that Eggsy is in fact legal.

“The only thing legal about me,” Eggsy confirms, slipping out of his chair and reaching for his wallet to make a show of paying for the drink.

As he suspected, Harry holds his hand out to pause him and plucks a crisp twenty pound note from the inner pocket of his jacket. He tosses it onto the bartop and doesn’t even wait for change before gesturing for Eggsy to lead the way out.

Eggsy throws one last grin in Roxy’s direction, knowing he just got her one hell of a tip for a drink she always gives to him for free anyway. She salutes him with a finger at her brow and then goes back to wiping glasses.

Harry’s hand slips to the small of his back and Eggsy leans into his space, loving the scandalised looks they receive from one or two people in the foyer. They no doubt believe him to be a prostitute, but Eggsy is more resourceful than that. He’s not poor, not with all the gifts he receives from other partners. Just the week before, he got a Rolex from a lawyer visiting from New York. Eggsy had of course sold it for almost double the worth and there had been no guilt in the slightest.

He wonders what a man like Harry Hart might buy him. Perhaps an expensive tie, or a bottle of fancy whisky.

Eggsy’s eyebrows almost raise right off his face when Harry steps into the lift and presses for the uppermost floor, where Eggsy knows the most expensive suite is. He even has an additional key to grant him access.

“I’m impressed,” Eggsy tells him, leaning back against the wall and listening to the quiet hum of the lift rising upwards.

“Not yet you’re not,” Harry tells him. “But you’ll be yelling about it soon enough.”

Eggsy’s dealt with confidence like Harry’s before, and unfortunately, most of them were not able to live up to the hype. He hopes Harry can prove him wrong. But he lets his gaze travel slowly down Harry’s body and back up again, timing it just right that when he catches Harry’s heavy stare again, the lift comes to a gentle stop and the doors ding before sliding open for them.

“After you,” Harry tells him, gesturing with his hand, and Eggsy follows him with his eyes even as he steps out, knowing Harry’s gaze will drop immediately to his arse.

He knows it has for a fact when Harry’s hand follows soon after, gripping firmly. Eggsy stops abruptly, letting Harry walk straight into his back, practically melting against his front when Harry’s hand slips further around his hip, holding him close.

“Couldn’t wait until we were in my room?” Harry questions, mouth grazing Eggsy’s throat.

Eggsy curls his arm back behind Harry’s head, fingers curling into his hair.

“Guess you’re just too irresistible, huh?”

“Perhaps,” Harry replies, his breath warm against Eggsy’s jaw.

It’s easy for Eggsy to tilt his head back, to drop it against Harry’s shoulder and turn his face just enough for Harry to kiss him. It’s not a precise kiss—far from it, in fact—but it warms Eggsy all the way down to his toes when Harry’s mouth brushes his own. Eggsy makes a soft, happy noise and Harry palms him through the front of his trousers.

“How about we get you out of those?” Harry murmurs against the corner of Eggsy’s mouth, and Eggsy can’t agree more.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, let’s.”

With guidance from Harry’s hands, Eggsy begins walking again, heading for the only door available at the end of the hallway. Harry is quick to open it, even quicker to usher Eggsy inside and get him shoved right up against the wall beside it. The door slams shut with its own weight and Eggsy arches into Harry’s hold, loving the way Harry fits against his back.

“You gonna fuck me right here, Harry?” Eggsy asks as Harry works on creating one hell of a bruise on Eggsy’s neck.

Harry nips his skin and says, “No.”

It’s not what Eggsy expects and he almost slips out from beneath Harry just to ask what the fuck’s wrong. Except Harry’s hands drop to his waist, flicking open the button of his jeans, drawing down the zipper with just enough pressure to make Eggsy’s cock ache, and shoves them down. His briefs go with them, settling midway down his thighs, which means Eggsy can’t even spread his legs for more.

But it turns out that he doesn’t need to as Harry slides down his body, kneeling behind Eggsy with his hands gripping Eggsy’s arse firmly. Eggsy can almost feel his breath and the sound he lets out is high and desperate, but he doesn’t plead. He refuses to break that easily.

Slowly, Harry draws his cheeks apart, exposing the soft furl of Eggsys’ arsehole to his gaze and the cooler air of the room. Eggsy hisses softly and wriggles against Harry’s hold, hoping it’ll spur Harry on. He doesn’t expect the lazy swipe of Harry’s thumb over him, the way it sets his body alight and gets him from zero to one hundred in no time at all.

Harry is a man who knows what he wants, Eggsy understands, and he’s not afraid to take it.

At the first pressure of Harry’s mouth against him, Eggsy knocks his head against the wall in surprise, pleasure locking his knees until they ache. Harry makes a pleased noise that vibrates against him and Eggsy flattens his cheek to the wall, fingers grappling uselessly at the wallpaper as Harry kisses him exactly as he would if it were his mouth.

Eggsy’s had people—men and women—rim him before, but with Harry, there’s something else; a tinge of want that suggests that Harry absolutely adores it.

“Yeah, Harry,” Eggsy whines. “Use your tongue.”

The fact that Harry obeys is surprising; Eggsy was expecting more of a fight, but he isn’t going to argue, not when it turns out that Harry has a very talented tongue. It flicks over his hole, prods insistently to ease the tightness of his muscles, and then flattens over him, getting him sloppy wet. It should be disgusting with saliva dripping down towards his bollocks, but it’s not; it has him reaching around with one hand for the back of Harry’s neck, grounding himself with the touch.

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy swears, his breath damp against the wall, rolling his hips back and arching into Harry’s mouth.

With his free hand, Eggsy reaches down and cups his own cock, feeling the way it twitches and leaks with every roll of Harry’s tongue.

“Oh no,” Harry tells him, as he pulls away, making Eggsy groan in disappointment. “You’re going to come without touching yourself.”

He grips Eggsy’s wrist and tugs it down, moving his hand away from his dick and leaving Eggsy aching.

“Not fair,” Eggsy complains breathlessly and he can feel Harry’s smile when he presses a kiss to Eggsy’s hole.

“I never said it would be,” Harry murmurs, before going right back to eating Eggsy out.

Eggsy thinks it might be cheating that he ruts forward, rubbing his cock against the wall instead, but Harry doesn’t try to stop him. He’s glad for it, because he’s so hard it hurts and his bollocks are drawing up, threateningly close to his body. He has the sinking suspicion that Harry actually is going to make him come from just his mouth.

Harry traces around his rim with the tip of his tongue, giving Eggsy barely anything to cling to.

“C’mon,” Eggsy hisses. “Fuck me, Harry.”

Harry’s hands tighten on his arsecheeks, his thumbs more insistent where they’re holding Eggsy open, and he gives Eggsy exactly what he wants. Eggsy uses both hands to grapple at the wall as Harry nudges the tip of his tongue inside him, making Eggsy’s knees shake and his chest heave with gasping breaths.

“Shit,” Eggsy says around an exhale. “Fuck, Harry. Your mouth.”

He’s sure Harry already knows; he’s probably been complimented on it by everyone he’s ever slept with before. Harry makes a quiet noise of acknowledgment and pulls Eggsy tighter against his tongue, getting Eggsy so close to the edge that he has to shut his eyes and breathe through it.

Everything is still so wet and hot and Eggsy knows he must be making all kinds of desperate sounds, but all he can hear is the slick noise of Harry’s tongue, of his uneven breathing as he licks into Eggsy.

“Harry,” he gasps out. “Harry, you’re going to make me come.”

It’s really just a warning, in case Harry doesn’t actually want him to come until later, but Harry is insistent and doesn’t relent in the slightest.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eggsy repeats, nails scratching against the wall as he rolls his hips and comes with the sensation of cool wallpaper pressed against the underside of his cock.

His whole body locks up as Harry practically blows him apart, his tongue almost in sync with the pulses of his cock as it spits out one last dribble of come onto the wall. They’ve made one hell of a mess, but Eggsy doesn’t care in the slightest.

He groans and pushes Harry’s face away with a shaking palm, too sensitive to stand anything more. Harry goes without a fight, sitting back on his heels while Eggsy catches his breath and eventually shuffles around to face him, trying not to trip while his jeans are still bunched around his thighs.

He feels wrung out in the best of ways and he’s never been more thankful for someone to approach him. Harry stares up at him silently, his mouth shining and wet with saliva. Slowly, he reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a handkerchief, using it to wipe his lips and chin until he looks a little less debauched. His hair is slightly askew, but Eggsy thinks it’s a good look for him.

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy swears again, raking his fingers through his own hair. “I wanna keep you.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks and he puts his handkerchief away before hefting himself to his feet. Eggsy tugs his trousers up enough that they won’t get in the way when he moves and then steps into Harry’s space, hands tight on Harry’s hips. Eggsy kisses him then, lazy and soft, pliant from his orgasm.

Harry sets a hand to the small of Eggsy’s back, reels him in closer, lets him feel the hard press of his cock in his trousers. Eggsy smiles against Harry’s mouth, licks in deep one last time, and then draws back.

“Need a hand with that?” Eggsy asks, tracing the outline of Harry’s dick with one finger. It’s a teasing touch and Harry leans into it.

“I would be amenable,” Harry tells him with a soft curl of his lips.

Without a word, Eggsy hooks his index finger behind the clasp of Harry’s trousers, tugging him forward while he walks backwards in the direction he suspects the bedroom should be. He’s been in enough hotel rooms to know the general layouts. Harry goes willingly, one hand on Eggsy’s side his gaze roaming over Eggsy as though he can’t get enough of him.

In the bedroom, there’s a small suitcase—still closed—on the floor and a thick coat draped over the back of a chair in the corner. Other than that, there’s no sign that Harry’s been staying there. Eggsy likes it that way; it’s less personal. He turns them until Harry’s back is to the bed and then he nudges him firmly with a hand on Harry’s stomach, getting Harry to drop down onto the mattress.

Eggsy easily sinks to his knees in front of him, holding Harry’s gaze until he feels half mad from it. Harry barely even blinks, even as Eggsy moves his hands to Harry’s belt, unbuckling it with light fingers, before unfastening Harry’s trousers. Harry has to lift his lips to let Eggsy tug them down along with his briefs. His trousers—clearly tailored to fit Harry perfectly—need Eggsy’s assistance to slip down to his ankles, leaving Harry ripe for the taking.

Reaching into his own back pocket, Eggsy pulls out his wallet and removes one of the few spare condoms he keeps in there. It’s just a habit to leave it well-stocked now, but he puts his wallet away again and then rips into the foil with his teeth.

“Safety first,” he says with a cheeky grin, slipping the condom onto Harry’s cock and giving him a handful of unnecessary strokes under the pretense of smoothing down the latex.

Eggsy’s given his fair share of head and he knows exactly how to work his way up to deep throating, how to get the recipient right to the edge. With Harry, it feels different, not that it actually is, but he wants to draw it out; he wants to watch Harry lose control. He goes slowly as he traces his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock, licking up under the head before wrapping his lips gently around the tip.

Harry makes a soft noise and Eggsy looks up, finding Harry already watching him. There’s a tinge of colour on his cheeks and Eggsy savours it. He sucks hard enough for Harry to twitch against his tongue and he smiles around his mouthful. Encouraged, Eggsy bobs his head, taking more of Harry into his mouth. He feels powerful with Harry at his complete mercy. He knows he could make Harry beg, could have him hunched over, pleading for Eggsy to let him come. But he’s not cruel. He wants Harry to let go and he wants to watch every second of it.

One of Harry’s hands slides into Eggsy’s hair, cupping the back of his head and holding him steady. Harry may feel in charge, but Eggsy is the one calling the shots, though he reckons they both know that.

He bobs his head faster, spurred on by Harry’s touch, taking him so deep that Harry hits the back of his throat. Harry makes a wounded noise, fingers tightening in Eggsy’s hair, but not attempting to pull him away.

“My dear boy,” Harry says, “it seems you’re a natural.”

He’s not a natural, not in the slightest. He’s had plenty of practice. But if Harry wants to believe he’s practically a virgin, Eggsy won’t argue. He continues with increased vigour, bringing a hand up to roll Harry’s bollocks in his palm, earning another noise from Harry, one that’s louder than the last.

“That’s it, Eggsy,” Harry says softly, the fingers of his other hand moving to feel where his cock is moving underneath Eggsy’s cheek.

Eggsy slings an arm around Harry’s waist and pulls himself closer, shuffling forward on his knees to get a better angle to go deeper, faster. Eggsy likes the way Harry smells; he’s clean, yet there’s still a hint of musk underneath. It’s wholly masculine and Eggsy is rather fond of it.

“I feel I must warn you,” Harry begins, “that I’m about to come.”

It’s so polite, Eggsy almost pulls off, solely to laugh at him. He contains it, however, settling for just taking Harry deeper, practically choking himself on Harry’s cock. It’s jerking more as Harry gets closer to coming and Eggsy likes it. With barely half a thought spared, Eggsy pulls back enough to tease the tip of Harry’s cock with the flat of his tongue, opening his mouth to show Harry exactly where he’d be about to come were it not for the condom.

Harry’s grip sharpens, tightens enough to hurt, before he lets out a ragged breath and comes with a gentle noise. Eggsy sucks him through it and after a moment of letting Harry shudder through the aftershocks, Eggsy moves away before Harry gets too sensitive.

Harry doesn’t let go of his head though, in fact, he rubs his hand soothingly over it, as though a belated apology for hurting him. Eggsy doesn’t need one though, because in all honesty, it was fucking brilliant. He drops a quick kiss to Harry’s inner thigh and then draws out of Harry’s grasp, pushing himself to his feet with the help of his hands on Harry’s knees.

When he presses in for a kiss, Harry returns it with a gentle hand upon Eggsy’s cheek, and Eggsy almost thinks about crawling straight into Harry’s lap and staying there for the foreseeable future. Instead, he drops one last kiss to Harry’s mouth and pushes away.

“Mind if I use your shower?” Eggsy asks, moving towards the door of the ensuite before he even gets a reply.

“I’d suggest a thorough wash,” Harry says in lieu of a yes or no answer. “I have plans for you later.”

“Care to share them with me?” Eggsy asks, pausing in the doorway.

Harry smiles easily and says, “Not yet.”

Eggsy winks and leaves Harry sitting with his trousers around his ankles.


As it turns out later, the surprise is Harry fucking Eggsy within an inch of his life. His hands are bruisingly tight on Eggsy’s waist, his hips powerful enough to put Eggsy on the brink of frustrated tears when Harry once again tells him he’s not allowed to touch himself. Eggsy gasps out a few swear words, comes on Harry’s cock, and lets Harry collapse against his back when he finishes soon after.

In the morning, he’s sore and has marks across his skin that—if they were to be tested—would match the exact shape of Harry’s fingertips. He showers again before the sun has even risen, when Harry is still snoring gently on his side of the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes.

Eggsy drops a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth after and slips through into the living room of the suite. As he passes the coffee table, he finds there’s a bottle sitting there that he didn’t notice the night before. It’s Glenfiddich whisky, the kind from duty free—Eggsy has seen enough of it, has been fed enough of it by others—and he can’t help by pause by it.

He knows Harry is rich enough to afford another, which makes it easier to scoop it up, tuck it under his arm, and head for the door. He takes two steps before he’s hit with an idea.

Finding a pen and an old receipt, Eggsy leaves a note for Harry to find later, setting it in the place where the bottle once sat.

thanks for the drink



Life goes on, as always.

He waits a week, just to be sure Harry is gone, and then heads back to same old hotel bar, where Roxy waits with free drinks and zero judgment.

He loses himself in three men and four women, ends up with two more bottles of whisky, a box of Cuban cigars, and a bottle of cologne from a man whose scent alone was enough to get Eggsy upstairs.

All in all, things are normal—that is until Tuesday.


It’s a regular Tuesday, nothing out of the ordinary, but Eggsy has an itch that needs scratching, and he knows just where to go.

Roxy passes him a mojito with extra mint, just the way he likes it, and he settles in for a night of searching.

It’s interrupted, however, when someone pauses beside him and asks, “May I sit here?”

The chair beside him is in fact empty, but he wants to be sure of the kind of man he’s encouraging, so he turns his head and almost spills his drink in his own lap when he finds Harry Hart staring back at him. He feels caught and unsteady.

“Eggsy,” Harry says with a tight smile on his face. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Eggsy wonders if he can get away with pretending not to know who Harry is, that he doesn’t recognise him in return, but he’s sure Harry saw his stunned expression already. Instead, he tries to play it cool. He curls his lips into a smirk and trails his gaze down Harry’s body.

“Mr Hart,” he drawls, spinning his stool around to face Harry, keeping his knees open purposefully.

Harry’s eye drop enough that it’s clear he notices and for just a second he steps between them, though it becomes apparently that it’s only so that he can slip around Eggsy and onto the chair beside him. Harry shoots him a quick glance that says he knows exactly how much Eggsy’s stomach flipped at Harry’s nearness and he offers Eggsy a smirk of his own as he gestures to Roxy for a drink.

“Another?” Harry asks him and Eggsy glances down at his glass, trying to judge how many bad decisions he’ll make if he accepts the offer.

He suspects he’ll make bad decisions either way because Harry is wearing one hell of a suit that he wants to see rumpled on the floor of whatever room he’s staying in this time. Eggsy finds himself nodding before his brain can even catch up, but Harry smiles at him as though it’s the right choice to make.

“If you’re paying,” Eggsy adds and Harry’s eyebrow cocks.

“A bold statement,” Harry replies, but Eggsy just grins cheekily as Harry reaches for his wallet regardless. He leaves a generous tip for Roxy on top of everything and leans into Eggsy, saying, “If I were a suspicious man, I would think you were only after one thing.”

“And what kind of man are you actually?” Eggsy asks and the corner of Harry’s mouth twitches, his eyes dark and saying more than enough.

“The kind of man who’s going to lead you upstairs and take you apart.”

“A bold statement,” Eggsy mocks lightly and Harry leans in just far enough for Eggsy to smell his aftershave and a hint of something that might be stale aeroplane air.

“We’re both men who know what we want, I suppose,” Harry says.

The drink Harry buys for him remains untouched on the bartop when they slip away together and Eggsy really doesn’t give a toss.


Harry puts him on his hands and knees by the settee and fucks him hard and fast with Eggsy’s face pressed into the carpet. Eggsy loves every second of it, how Harry fills him up, how Harry’s hips snap forward like he’s trying to prove a point. And perhaps he is, because Eggsy certainly doesn’t regret spending another night with Harry, regardless of his self-imposed rule of never doing that.

After, when Eggsy has come all over the floor and Harry has pulled out and has gone to throw away the condom, Eggsy pushes himself to his feet and walks around the room, naked and unashamed. It’s the honeymoon suite again—Eggsy isn’t sure how Harry can afford it—but it has an incredible view outside of the nightscape that Eggsy peers through the window at, one clammy palm against the glass.

There’s the sound of a toilet flushing and soft footsteps on the carpet behind, and he sees Harry’s reflection in the window, standing behind him. Eggsy meets his gaze without turning around and Harry shares a private smile with him.

“A streak of exhibitionism?” Harry asks, gesturing toward the floor-to-ceiling window that does nothing to hide Eggsy’s nudity.

With a small smirk, Eggsy leans forward, arching his back and spreading his legs.

“Tempted?” he asks, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder at Harry, who stalks closer.

“Very,” Harry tells him, hand skating down Eggsy’s spine, all the way to his arse, where two fingers press against where he’s still wet and slightly sore. They dip in just enough for Eggsy to hiss in discomfort and Harry says, “Perhaps later.”

It sounds a lot as though Harry plans to keep him for the rest of the night and Eggsy is more than fine with it. Harry pats his arse in a way that makes Eggsy want to get hard again for him, and then moves away, heading back to the settee where his boxer-briefs are. He tugs them on, much to Eggsy’s disappointment, and then walks towards the bathroom once more.

“I have something for your face,” Harry tells him, which makes Eggsy frown.

“The fuck is wrong with my face?” he argues, stepping away from the window to follow Harry across the room.

When Harry steps back into the bedroom, he’s holding a small tube of cream that Eggsy cocks an eyebrow at.

“There’s a carpet burn across your cheek,” Harry tells him. “This’ll help.”

Eggsy raises his hand to his face, finding his cheek is indeed painful to the touch, and shoots a slow grin at Harry.

“Giving me something to remember you by?” Eggsy asks, and Harry snorts lightly in amusement.

“Not since you last decided to help yourself to my belongings,” Harry tells him, nudging Eggsy down to sit on the corner of the bed, while he gently dabs Savlon onto his cheek. He doesn’t sound angry and Eggsy meets his gaze innocently.

“You got something for me this time?” Eggsy asks and Harry shoves him lightly until he’s flat on his back in the middle of the bed, grinning up at Harry, who’s really not at all threatening while wearing only a pair of underwear and a frown.

“I’ve got something for you,” Harry warns, and Eggsy knows it’s an innuendo, but he smirks regardless.

“Yeah? C’mon,” he provokes. “Give it to me.”

Harry crawls onto the bed, caging Eggsy in with his body, and does exactly that.


On his way out the next morning, Eggsy leaves Harry sleeping and slips one of the ties hanging on the suit bag in the bathroom into his pocket. He counts on Harry noticing.


Another week later, Harry is back at the bar, not even asking this time before slipping into the seat beside Eggsy.

“I believe you have something of mine,” Harry says without greeting him and Eggsy turns, playing with the straw in his drink with his mouth.

“Hello, Harry,” Eggsy says, knowing how much it’ll annoy him.

“Something of mine,” Harry repeats and Eggsy leans back in his chair, pushing his empty glass away.

“What happened to your manners?” Eggsy teases.

“Is that what you’re after, Eggsy? Presents?” Harry asks and Eggsy tilts his head.

“No, I’m here for the sex,” Eggsy replies with an easy grin. “The presents are just a bonus. Some people like to spend lots of money on me.”

Harry pauses, his eyes running over Eggsy’s form as he says, “I can see the appeal. However, presents and personal belongings are two entirely separate things.”

“Does that mean you’ll start buying me actual presents?” Eggsy asks and Harry levels him with a look.

After a long pause, Harry drops a small, neatly wrapped grey box onto the bar top in front of Eggsy and Eggsy glances down at it, stomach flipping with excitement. When he reaches to open the lid, however, Harry takes hold of his wrist and stops him.

“Come upstairs with me,” Harry tells him and Eggsy glances back down at the box.

“The fuck is it?” he asks. “A sex toy?”

“Upstairs,” Harry repeats, and Eggsy feels heat roll down his body at the thought.

He grabs the box, offers Roxy a subtle wink, and follows Harry out.


Upstairs, Harry spreads Eggsy out across his bed, entirely naked, getting him hard with one sure fist around his cock.

“Don’t I get to see what’s in the box?” Eggsy asks around a groan, and Harry pauses long enough to smirk down at him.

“Not until after,” Harry tells him and Eggsy grunts and sits up, batting Harry’s hand away from between his legs.

“I thought it was a sex toy,” Eggsy argues. “I thought we were going to use it.”

“You jumped to your own conclusions,” Harry says. “But I’m sure it won’t hurt if you’re that impatient.”

Harry slips off the bed, heading for Eggsy’s scattered clothing and the box that’s been discarded beside Eggsy’s right shoe. He tosses it towards Eggsy, who catches it and gives it a quick shake. He has no idea what it could be, but he’s more than a little intrigued.

He tugs at the ribbon keeping it closed and then pops the top off, peering inside. Whatever it is is wrapped in thin tissue paper, and when he tears into it, he finds it’s a pair of soft, leather gloves. They also probably cost more than Eggsy pays per month to stay in his flat.

He can’t help himself from trying them on immediately, wriggling his fingers and showing them off to Harry, who smiles indulgently.

“You like them?” Harry asks and Eggsy glances down at them, a plan half forming in his mind.

“They waterproof?” he asks and Harry nods.

“Good,” Eggsy says with a grin, wrapping one hand back around his cock and stroking languidly.

Harry freezes, not even seeming to breathe, and Eggsy grins wider, knowing he’s done the right thing. With his other hand, he reaches down and cups his bollocks, showing Harry how soft and pliant they are.

“What do you think?” Eggsy asks. “Good use? Know what would be better? If you had some.”

Harry meets his gaze, his eyes dark and serious.

“I do,” Harry says and Eggsy stops stroking himself and grins.

“Go get them, Harry. It’s not half as much fun doing things myself.”

Harry goes for his suitcase and Eggsy slips the gloves off, tucking them back into the box and tossing it over the side of the bed to grab later. When Harry returns, his suit is still neatly in place, but there’s the addition of soft, black gloves; Eggsy’s cock twitches.

Harry notices the movement and shares a look with Eggsy.

“What d’ya think, Harry? Am I worth enough to be allowed to come all over them?”

Harry stalks closer, climbing onto the bed beside him.

“It depends,” Harry tells him, curling one loose fist around his cock.

Eggsy lets out a loud breath that sounds vaguely like a gasp and says, “On what?”

Harry tightens his grip and begins to stroke firmly.

“On whether you’re going to clean up the mess.”

Eggsy grins and lifts his hips sharply into Harry’s hand.

“Yeah,” Eggsy tells him. “I’ll do that.”

Harry kisses him then, takes him off guard with it, but Eggsy returns it, curling his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck and holding him close. Harry knows exactly what he’s doing, or at least it feels that way as he pulls Eggsy off, getting him to the edge in no time at all.

“You’ve set the standards high,” Eggsy tells him, clinging to Harry’s back, loving the friction of the leather against his skin, the way it creaks softly with the movement of Harry’s fingers.

“I have?” Harry questions and Eggsy nods, letting his head drop back to the mattress, staring up at Harry as he barrels towards bliss.

“Yeah,” Eggsy says, shaking from the effort of holding back and talking at the same time. “You’re going to have to buy bigger and better presents after this.”

Harry curls his wrist, almost makes Eggsy whine with the angle, and says, “I feel rather as though that’s all you think I’m good for.”

Eggsy groans and shakes his head.

“Definitely not all you’re good for,” Eggsy tells him, punctuating the words with a buck of his hips.

Harry shoots him a half-exasperated glance, but doesn’t stop stroking him.

“You look like a regular James Bond,” Eggsy continues, his eyes on Harry’s gloves. “You’re giving me new fantasies.”

“You can think of me often then,” Harry replies. “When you’re all alone with no one to give you the company you deserve.”

Eggsy definitely will, no doubt about it.

“C’mon, Harry,” Eggsy moans, rolling his hips. “So close.”

Harry rubs his thumb over the wet, sensitive head of Eggsy’s cock, and that’s all Eggsy can stand. He arches his back and screws his eyes shut as he comes hard all over Harry’s gloves, just as expected. He draws in a ragged breath and glances down the length of his own body, his cock dribbling out the last dregs of release against his hip.

“Jesus,” Eggsy swears, eyes moving towards the sight of Harry’s messy gloves.

He doesn’t wait for Harry to shift closer, just grabs one hand and tugs it towards his mouth, unashamedly licking across Harry’s palm where the come is thickest. It may not do much for Eggsy, but Harry seems enraptured by it and his gaze stays glued to Eggsy’s mouth as he lets Harry slip two fingers between his lips.

The gloves don’t taste bad and Eggsy is sure Harry doesn’t use them enough to get them truly dirty; he probably has other people to open doors for him and carry his luggage. Or perhaps they’re just new and he bought them at the same time as he got Eggsy’s own. Either way, it doesn’t matter as he works his mouth across one and then the other, giving Harry one hell of a show.

“How’s that for clean?” Eggsy asks after he sucks the last of the mess off Harry’s forefinger, licking his lips and wondering how Harry wants to come himself. “Want a blowie?”

Harry shakes his head and nudges Eggsy flat to the mattress with one gloved hand.

“Stay right there,” he orders and Eggsy does exactly as he’s told.

As it turns out, Harry is just as on edge as Eggsy was, and his plan ends up being tossing himself off over Eggsy’s lower abdomen and his soft cock. It’s not at all safe—Eggsy knows men like Harry, who are willing to sleep with someone met at a hotel bar, are more likely to have some sort of STI, but then again Harry almost seems above it all. Far too clean and calculating, but Eggsy will get tested, as he always does, just to be sure.

Harry seems to like it though, even goes as far as rubbing his come into Eggsy’s skin, leaving him sticky and sated and in need of a shower and a nap. Instead of doing any of those things, he stays where he is, with Harry half crouched over him, and lets Harry touch him gently and kiss him as though sharing a secret.

Eggsy doesn’t mind it though, not when it comes with explosive orgasms and presents right out of Eggsy’s budget.

Harry can be his sugar daddy for as long as he wants, so long as he knows that’s all he is.


In the morning, Harry is awake for once, and he gestures a freshly-showered Eggsy towards him, where he’s sprawled on the bed, and kisses him one last time—soft and sweet—before watching Eggsy collect his present and head for the door.

As is tradition now, Eggsy also stealthily pockets both of Harry’s keycards for the room that are sitting by the door, knowing Harry will know exactly where they’ve gone.

With a private smile, he slips out and heads for the lift.


Harry surprises him the following week by showing up sooner than expected. Eggsy is in no way disappointed about it, but it doesn’t give him time to think about slinking off with any other men or women.

“Aren’t you getting tired of me, Harry?” Eggsy asks from where he’s pinned up against the window while Harry sinks into him slowly, letting out a quiet noise of pleasure.

“How could I possibly get tired of you, Eggsy,” Harry replies, “when you keep me on my toes so often?”

Eggsy grins and huffs out a breath that fogs up the window his cheek is pressed against.

“Do I keep you spry?”

Harry slams into him, forcing the air from his lungs and making Eggsy laugh out a moan.

“Body and soul,” Harry tells him. “My life would be lacking without you.”

If Eggsy’s stomach happens to flip, he blames it on the way Harry hits his prostate three thrusts in a row, not at the thought of Harry needing him, wanting him—something he’s never had before.

He presses one clammy hand against the window, leaving smudges against the glass as he braces himself, accepting every sharp snap of Harry’s hips. It’s just a regular fuck, Eggsy tells himself. Harry is a rich man that likes to spend and Eggsy is nothing but another peg in his game of life.


Harry doesn’t show up the next week, nor the one after. In fact, he isn’t there for three and a half weeks, which puts Eggsy on edge.

The first week, he sleeps with a woman who gives him a kiss on the cheek as he leaves and not much else and in the second week, he feels far too uneasy to go upstairs with anyone who isn’t Harry. By the third week, he’s practically a nervous wreck, his normal bravado gone without a trace.

He sits at the bar, one leg jolting, unable to stop it, and almost drinks himself blind. Roxy cuts him off on more than one night and every time, he slinks home, rolls into bed, and doesn’t show his face until the next evening.

When it’s nearing the fourth week of no contact, he’s almost given up hope, slouched over the bar top with nothing more than a glass of water. Someone sits in the seat beside him, and he doesn’t pay them any mind, too busy drawing idle shapes in the condensation left on the countertop from the bottom of his glass. But then they clear their throat and Eggsy startles, glancing up to find the face he’s become very familiar with.

“The fuck you been?” Eggsy asks immediately, temper flaring before he can stop it, and Harry does actually look rather contrite.

“Business trip across the world, I’m afraid,” he replies gently and Eggsy wonders if he should even go upstairs with him.

“Could’ve told me,” Eggsy tells him and Harry tilts his head slightly.

“How was I meant to get a hold of you, Eggsy?”

Eggsy shrugs and says, “Left a note with the bartender?”

“It wasn’t planned,” Harry informs him, before adding, “but I missed you very much.”

Something burns deep inside of Eggsy, a longing that he thinks he should ignore, but might only get worse if he does.

“You did?”

Harry nods.

“If people wouldn’t think I was kidnapping you, I’d throw you over my shoulder and take you upstairs this instant.”

Eggsy swallows and says, “That so?”

“I have missed you,” Harry repeats, his voice slow and gentle, and so genuine that Eggsy makes up his mind then and there, getting down from his stool and nodding his head towards the doorway.

“Let’s go then,” he tells him and Harry is up immediately, following him out.

Harry doesn’t even wait for the lift doors to close before he gets Eggsy backed against the wall, kissing him as though it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Eggsy accepts it all, curls his arms around Harry’s neck and keeps him close.

“Missed you too,” Eggsy admits between heavy kisses that make his lips tingle. “Thought about you all the time.”

“Is that right?” Harry asks, one hand slipping down to Eggsy’s arse, pulling him flush against his own body.

“Wore my gloves sometimes when I touched myself.”

Harry groans straight into his mouth, and doesn’t let him go for even a second, and as the lift doors open once more, he backs them down the hallway and into their room.

“I have another present for you,” Harry tells him. “But I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Eggsy breaks the kiss long enough to raise an eyebrow at Harry.

“Why wouldn’t I like it? Is it something from wherever you were?”

Harry shakes his head and pulls away from Eggsy to move towards the briefcase sitting on the table behind the settee. He rummages around for a few moments before making a small sound of what is probably victory and pulling out a plain envelope.

“What’s that?” Eggsy asks with a curious glance and Harry hesitates just slightly before handing it over.

“You don’t have to do anything with it if you don’t want to,” Harry tells him, which only intrigues Eggsy further.

Still frowning at Harry in confusion, Eggsy tears it open and pulls out a sheet of paper. At first, he has no idea what he’s even looking at; it has Harry’s full name—Harry Edward Hart—an address for a house in Stanhope Mews, and a birth date of January sixteenth, nineteen sixty-three. There’s also the name of a GP and an itemised list of what appears to be medical tests that are all noted as negative in a secondary column.

“What’s this?” Eggsy asks again, but he has a sinking suspicion about it because he’s had a few of the same tests before. They’re usually the ones to check for any STIs. “You think I didn’t believe you were clean?”

“I want you to know that I’m clean,” Harry tells him and Eggsy cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Why’s that?”

“I want to fuck you,” Harry says, which isn’t anything new, until he adds, “without the necessity of protection.”

Eggsy blinks, glances back down at the paper in his hands, and then stares up at Harry.

“What about me?” Eggsy asks. “How do you know I’m clean?”

“Are you?” Harry asks with a quirk of his eyebrow and Eggsy tilts his head.

“Yeah, but that isn’t the point.”

“I’d know if you were lying,” Harry tells him and Eggsy shoots him a look to say that he doesn’t believe it at all.

“As if,” Eggsy retorts and Harry smiles as though he’s wrong.

“Your left eyebrow twitches whenever you lie,” Harry says and Eggsy scoffs.

“Could be a coincidence,” he replies, but Harry shakes his head.

“You never wanted to see me the second time we met,” Harry says conversationally and Eggsy shrugs loosely.

“Not rocket science, guv. Not many one night stands want to be anything more.”

“You’re in it for the presents,” Harry says, which is true, but then he adds, “at least you were to begin with. Now you’re looking for more.”

“No, I’m not,” Eggsy lies. “It’s just sex. You buy me things.”

“I’m your—what is it they call men like me?—sugar daddy?” Harry asks, a tinge of humour to his words.

“You can be whatever you want. S’not my problem.”

Harry hooks one long finger beneath Eggsy’s chin and tilts his head up, staring down at Eggsy with a glance that does terrible things to Eggsy’s stomach.

“And what if I wanted you to call me daddy?” Harry asks and Eggsy swallows, knowing full well that Harry will feel it.

“That what you want?” Eggsy replies before smirking, knowing two can play that game. “Want me to beg for you to come inside me, Daddy?”

For once in his life, Harry actually looks affected by Eggsy’s words. Eggsy laughs low in his throat and takes a step closer, dropping the page of test results still in his hands onto the floor.

“C’mon then, Daddy,” Eggsy murmurs, curling one arm around the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him closer. “Show me what you’ve got.”


That’s precisely what Harry does. He spreads Eggsy out on the bed like he’s something to be treasured, something worthy of being treasured, gets him nice and loose with his clever fingers, and then fucks him within an inch of his life. Eggsy loves every second of it and comes messily between them before Harry finishes inside him.

When Harry pulls out after, there’s a quick, wet warmth of come dripping out of him before Harry’s fingers slip back inside him, playing with his hole and the wetness there. Eggsy stretches out indolently, rolling onto his stomach to let Harry continue, keeping his legs spread.

“Insatiable,” Eggsy grumbles, face mashed against the duvet, but Harry just hums quietly to himself and presses a dry kiss to Eggsy’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid,” Harry begins, “that my idea of a present this time was the test results. Though that may have been more of a present to myself.”

He punctuates the words with gentle thrusts of his fingers, making Eggsy’s cock twitch even though it’s soft and pinned between the mattress and his body.

“I might have sticky fingers in the morning,” Eggsy tells him, shutting his eyes and beginning to fall asleep.

He feels Harry’s lips against his shoulder again and the press of his smile.

“Nothing important this time,” Harry orders and Eggsy makes a thoughtful noise.

“No promises,” Eggsy tells him and lets himself drift off.


In the morning, Eggsy steals a fancy fountain pen from Harry’s inner coat pocket and a kiss from Harry’s slackened mouth while he sleeps on unknowing.


It only takes three days to bump into Harry again.

“Eager?” Eggsy asks from where he’s perched at the bar, legs spread and inviting Harry in.

Harry however, just places a box beside Eggsy's glass and says, “I’m afraid I can’t stay. I thought you might like something to make up for last time.”

“Is that right?” Eggsy asks, eyeing the box before turning his grin to Harry, who leans in, mouth grazing Eggsy’s ear.

“What kind of sugar daddy would I be if I didn’t shower you in gifts?”

“Not a very good one,” Eggsy replies, mock-seriously, but he catches Harry’s shoulder and keeps him close. “When will you be back?”

“Unfortunately, I have another business trip,” Harry says, sounding almost as regretful as Eggsy feels. “A week at the most.”

Before he can think better of it, Eggsy pulls Harry in the rest of the way and kisses him, mouth gentle, trying to wordlessly say how much Harry will be missed. Harry makes a quiet sound—possibly surprise—but returns it just as softly, one hand cupping Eggsy’s face.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Eggsy tells him when they draw away, though he’s tempted to just continue kissing him, maybe talk him into booking a room for the night.

But Harry presses a chaste kiss to Eggsy’s jaw and then steps out of his reach.

“Let me know what you think of the present,” Harry says, and before Eggsy can argue that he’ll have to wait a week to find out, he slips out of the bar, offering only a parting glance over his shoulder as he goes.

Eggsy sighs, ignores Roxy’s pointed stare, and thinks he should go home before opening the box, just in case.


In the safety of his bedroom, he slips the lid off and finds the latest iPhone tucked neatly inside. There’s also a brief note that says to keep you busy on lonely nights -HH.

No one has ever bought him a phone before, but he's not even sure if he can afford to use it. He only has a pay-as-you-go plan for his crappy brick of a current phone that's almost five years old and in dire need of an upgrade.

Casually, he tries to turn it on, wondering if it needs to be charged up first, but it flickers to life and shows that it has almost a full battery already. It seems Eggsy isn't the first to play with it. Curious, he opens up the contact list, where he finds a single entry, listing Harry Hart. It has every possible way for Eggsy to reach him—mobile, house phone, and even an email address.

Without even thinking, Eggsy dials Harry's mobile and waits patiently as it rings.

"Hello, Eggsy," Harry answers, not skipping a beat.

Eggsy grins and tries not to let it be heard as he replies, "Hi, Harry."

"What do you think?" Harry asks and Eggsy knows then why he said what he did at the hotel.

“I think I’m going to be dead broke when the first bill shows up,” he says with a laugh and Harry makes a thoughtful noise.

“It wouldn’t be much of a present if I made you pay for part of it,” Harry explains quietly and Eggsy blinks.

“The present was just the phone, Harry,” Eggsy argues.

“Strangely enough, Eggsy, as the gift-giver, I believe I get to decide what it actually consists of.”

Eggsy wants to insist that it’s too much, but he’s never had qualms about taking more from people before. He’s nervous about investigating too deeply about why that might be now.

“So, I can call you?” Eggsy asks and Harry makes a quiet sound of amusement.

“That was rather the point of it,” he replies smoothly.

“And I can text you?”

“Any day, any time.”

“You don’t think this is going to be a huge distraction for you?” Eggsy asks. “Giving me twenty-four-seven access to you?”

“Oh, I know it will,” Harry tells him, clearly smiling as he speaks; Eggsy can hear it in his voice.

“So long as you know,” Eggsy says. “I’m not taking the rap for your own problems, alright?”

“All right,” Harry agrees before there’s the noise of something loud in the background. “I’m sorry, Eggsy. My flight is about to board. I’ll let you know when I land.”

Eggsy has no idea where he’s flying to, but he hopes it isn’t someplace too far away.

“Yeah, sure,” Eggsy says. “Have a safe one.”

“Goodnight, Eggsy,” Harry drawls easily before the call ends and Eggsy drops the phone onto his bed.

He’ll make sure Harry’s money is put to good use.


There’s a new text waiting for him in the morning, as promised.

landed. speak soon. h xxx

In reply, Eggsy sends Harry a picture of his cock.

thinking of you, he adds and then turns his phone off, wanting Harry to know exactly what he’s getting himself into.

He sleeps easy that night.


He doesn’t sleep so easy the following nights.

His plan to rile Harry up works just as expected, but there isn’t the same satisfaction of meeting Harry in person to suffer his wrath. All he gets is a few clipped texts during the next few days and a brief phone call one night that ends when Harry starts snoring quietly while Eggsy’s telling him about new apps he’s been downloading.

Eggsy thinks he should be offended, that he should want to hang up immediately for Harry’s cheek. However, instead, he spends a few minutes listening to Harry breathing, imagining it’s like normal, when Harry is sprawled out beside him, sleeping easily. The fact that it’s a comforting sound should worry him.

He’s not sure why he feels so guilty, but he ends the call when Harry snuffles quietly, as though about to wake up, and he flops backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He thinks he’s made a huge mistake letting Harry get so close. He really doesn’t think it’s just sex and presents now and he has the sinking feeling that one wrong move could muck everything up. He doesn’t know what Harry wants from him now and he’s too afraid to ask.

Eggsy doesn’t even know how to do relationships; he’s never gone monogamous before.

He turns the phone off again, but doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, thoughts rushing through his mind too quickly to let him rest.


He gets a call from Harry late the following afternoon.

“Eggsy,” he says softly, “You must forgive me for last night. I’m afraid I’ve been rather jet lagged.”

Eggsy doesn’t know where Harry is, but he doubts a man like Harry lets a thing like jet lag get in the way of his life. He hums in response, not trusting himself to be civilised and he hears Harry sigh as though he knows already.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Harry promises, which intrigues Eggsy. “Stop by the hotel in four days—six-thirty in the evening, if you would.”

Four days would make it a Tuesday, which Eggsy hopes is enough time to think things through and maybe come up with a good way to break things off with Harry. He’s already in too deep and it would probably be the easiest thing for both of them before one of them gets hurts—and knowing how put together Harry is, Eggsy suspects it would be him instead.

“Yeah?” Eggsy replies finally. “What makes you think it’ll be worth it?”

“I plan on ensuring that it is,” Harry tells him with enough innuendo that Eggsy gets the hint.

“We’ll see about that,” Eggsy replies before abruptly ending the call and giving Harry a taste of his own medicine.

He doesn’t know what he’ll find at the hotel, but he hopes it’ll be good.


The hotel is quiet on the Tuesday when he arrives. He slips into the bar, expecting Harry to join him later, and orders a drink from a bartender who unfortunately isn’t Roxy. He wishes she were there if only so he can get her opinion first.

He’s just draining the last of his gin and tonic when there’s a gentle cleared throat behind him and he can’t help but grin into his glass, turning his head and expecting to find Harry looking travel-worn but oh-so familiar.

However, when he looks back, it’s not Harry at all, just a smartly dressed woman wearing a nametag labelling her as Holly. The woman smiles pleasantly at him, but he wonders if he’s about to be escorted out of the hotel.

“Eggsy?” she asks, and for a second Eggsy thinks about denying it.

After a moment of hesitation, he nods and Holly’s grin widens.

“Hello, Eggsy, my name is Holly and I’m the hotel manager.”

Eggsy nods again and smiles back politely, still wondering what she’s there for.

“Hi,” he grunts out for a lack of anything better.

“I believe you know one of our most loyal guests here: Mr Hart.”

Something heavy settles in Eggsy’s stomach, but he says, “Yeah, I know him.”

“Mr Hart wanted me to let you know that his regular suite is available to you and that he has a gift waiting upstairs.”

She slips a keycard out of her pocket and holds it out for him to take, which he does.

“What is it?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m not sure, sir, but he said you should expect a car to be waiting outside in half an hour to take you out.”

Eggsy’s eyebrows raise and he can’t help but smile at the thought of Harry going through so much trouble for him. He wonders if maybe Harry is in just as deep as him. He glances back down at the key in his hand and can’t wait to get upstairs and see what the gift is.

“Thank you, Holly,” he says and she smiles again.

“Have a good evening, sir,” she tells him.

“You too,” Eggsy calls out as she turns away, heading out of the bar.

He suspects he has a daft grin on his face when he leaves a handful of coins on the bar top to pay for his drink, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s going to go upstairs and see what all the fuss is about.


The room is eerily quiet and empty without Harry and Harry’s belongings there, but the gift is immediately apparent when he steps through into the bedroom and finds a suit bag laid out on the undisturbed sheets. When he unzips it with steady hands, he finds a navy suit inside. There’s a printed note pinned to the lapel.

Had to estimate the measurements, but I believe I’ve had enough hands-on experience with your body to make a decent guess. -Harry

Eggsy grins to himself and pulls the hangar free, holding it up to the light and finding the material has a fine pinstripe to it. Eggsy’s never had a suit before, but he couldn’t think of a better person to buy him one.

He undresses quickly, stripping out of his jeans and shirt to replace them with the suit that ends up fitting like a glove. Perhaps their times together were more valuable than Eggsy ever thought. There’s a full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door and he can’t help but stare at his own reflection, knowing he’s definitely not a sight for sore eyes. He could probably almost pass for someone like Harry—well, maybe not that good, but maybe an assistant to someone like Harry.

He takes a picture with his phone for safe keeping and then heads for the door, knowing they’ll be back to the hotel for his street clothes later. Not that he’ll need them, obviously. Harry is probably going to fuck him through the mattress and Eggsy is going to love every second of it.

Perhaps his idea about breaking things off won’t go to plan on this night, but there’s always next time.


Downstairs, there’s a taxi waiting for him—one of the typical London sort—but inside, it’s decked out like a limousine with alcohol decanters and a selection of cigars.

Eggsy doesn’t touch any of it, despite the driver inviting him to help himself, just settles back in his seat and wonders where they’re heading.

“You allowed to tell me where we’re going?” Eggsy asks after a few long minutes of silence.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” the driver responds, offering a smile via the rearview mirror. “But it won’t be long and I can assure you that you’ll like it. It’s one of Harry’s favourites.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at that, wondering if the guy is Harry’s personal driver. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s not given long to think about it. Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the kerb and the driver hops out to open the door for him. It’s the true wealthy-man experience that Eggsy has never had before.

“Thanks,” he says. “How much?”

“The trip was already paid for, sir. I’ll be waiting here for when you’re both done.”

Eggsy nods and glances down the street to see if anything is familiar; it isn’t and Eggsy isn’t too sure whereabouts they are now. Instead of caring, Eggsy heads for the door and shows himself inside.

The restaurant is not at all what he expects. It’s fine dining, to be sure, but it’s more of a hole-in-the-wall place than anything. He’s greeted by a man beside the door when he steps through.

“You’re the guest of Mr Hart?” the man asks and Eggsy nods, wondering how all of these people keep doing it. Either Harry keeps offering out photos of Eggsy or they have a wicked sense of ESP.

“Yeah, is he here?”

“I’m afraid not, sir, but Mr Hart is never late, I assure you.”

Eggsy snorts and says, “Yeah, I’ll believe that.”

He’s escorted to a small table in the back of the restaurant, where it’s perfect for a private, possibly romantic dinner. He’s given a glass of water and a smile before he’s left alone to his thoughts.

The first five minutes pass quickly while Eggsy takes in the posh decor and the few other people dining around him. During the second five minutes, he pulls his phone out and checks his messages, just to be sure. Ten minutes after that, Eggsy sends the picture he took earlier to Harry, adding the message don’t want to miss out on this, guv. might even let you peel me out of it later.

He wants it to be all the encouragement Harry needs to hurry up. Except that ten minutes later, there’s no reply and still no sign of Harry anywhere.

The waiter stops by to ask if he’d like a glass of wine, but to be honest, Eggsy knows the kind of wine they sell at places like these and he wouldn’t know heads from tails, so it’s better to just wait for Harry. He does, however, accept the basket of warm bread rolls brought out.

After another ten minutes of waiting, Eggsy calls Harry’s phone, but it goes immediately to his answerphone without a response. Five minutes after that, Eggsy has little hope, but he carries on waiting because maybe Harry is stuck in traffic or maybe he’s just lost track of time.

Twenty minutes after that, the waiter asks if he’d like to order Harry’s usual courses, but Eggsy shakes his head. They no longer meet his gaze as they refill his water, but he can see them across the room, glancing at him with pity, murmuring in low voices between themselves. Probably wondering when they can ask Eggsy to leave because Harry isn’t coming after all.

Eggsy waits another ten minutes and then flags down the waiter.

“Do I owe anything?” he asks quietly and the waiter shakes his head.

“No, sir. There’s no charge.”

Eggsy can’t tell if he does and the waiter just feels guilty or if he doesn’t. He doesn’t really care either way as he pushes himself up, stomach growling loudly, but he ignores it and heads for the door, offering a quiet murmur of thanks to the staff.

Outside, it’s cold and spit-spotting with rain, and the taxi is still waiting outside. The driver steps out, tucking his phone away as though he just ended a call, and he glances at Eggsy apologetically.

“I’m sorry, sir. I just got news that Harry will be unable to join you tonight. Would you like to return to the hotel?”

It’s the last thing he wants to do, in all honesty, but he nods because he needs his clothes anyway. The ride is quiet and humiliating, but when they arrive back at the hotel, Eggsy thanks him and disappears inside without another word. Holly is at the front desk when he passes through, but he keeps his eyes focused on the floor, ignoring the weight of her gaze watching him head for the lifts.

The suite is even more uninviting the second time. Eggsy strips out of his suit without care, leaving it rumpled on the floor while he slips into his regular clothes. He could leave after that; he could go home and pretend Harry doesn’t even exist. But then again, maybe Harry needs to learn his lesson and if Harry wants to act like a sugar daddy, then who is Eggsy to deny that?

He grabs the phone, dialing for room service.

“What’s the most expensive thing on the menu?” he asks when someone picks up, though he doesn’t wait for an answer before adding, “Give me four and a bottle of your best champagne. Just put it on the room's tab.”

Eggsy is going to make a point and Harry is going to take notice, whether he likes it or not.

He eats way too much steak, drinks the entire bottle of champagne by himself, and then falls asleep on the settee, unable to bring himself to move to the bed.


In the morning, he wakes with a hangover and no new messages on his phone.

He goes home will a rolling stomach and an unending sense of disappointment.


Eggsy goes through the entire fucking range of stages-of-loss emotions. He finds himself denying that he cares, types out what feels like a thousand angry texts and deletes them all without sending, bargains with himself that Harry surely must have had a good reason to stand him up, sleeps for fourteen hours multiple times while refusing to even get out of bed some days, before he finally gives in and accepts that maybe Harry just doesn’t care.

Of course, that’s when Harry calls. Seventeen days after the fact, but he calls nonetheless.

Eggsy doesn’t answer the first time and thinks seriously about tossing his phone straight out the window into the street below when Harry calls again. He picks up on Harry’s third attempt and answers with a stubborn silence.

“Eggsy?” Harry asks quietly as though not sure Eggsy is there or not.

“The fuck do you want, Harry?” Eggsy asks, voice dull, without the rage in it that he thinks there should be.

“Eggsy you have every right to be angry with me. I thought I’d be there in time and I wasn’t.”

“And it took you over two weeks to tell me that?”

“I’ve been indisposed.”

“You mean you couldn’t be bothered,” Eggsy corrects and there’s the muffled sound of a wet cough on Harry’s end. Eggsy doesn’t mention it.

“I’ve been under the weather,” Harry tells him. “Had a little accident on the way home.”

“You’ll need a note from your GP to be excused,” Eggsy drawls and he hears the unmistakable sound of a snort of amusement.

“I have one of those,” Harry says, “if you’d like to come over and see.”

“I ain’t going anywhere, Harry,” Eggsy replies. “I think it’s about time we both moved on. This was never going to be anything, so let’s not pretend like it is now.”

There’s a long silence on Harry’s end of the line before Harry clears his throat.

“I’d very much like to explain myself, Eggsy,” Harry says and Eggsy sighs.

“Then fucking do it.”

“Explaining requires meeting in person,” Harry reasons.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, guv.”

“Just give me five minutes, Eggsy. That’s all I need.”

Eggsy shouldn’t let him explain; he should hang up, find another rich bloke, and go about pretending Harry doesn’t exist. But instead, he finds himself rubbing a hand over his eyes and sighing again.

Harry,” he argues lamely, wanting it to be enough of a reason for Harry to give in and let him go in return.

“Five minutes,” Harry repeats. “I can send a car around.”

He thinks of Harry’s warmth, of the way he touches Eggsy with care, how he follows Eggsy with his gaze like a sunflower follows the sun. Five minutes won’t hurt, he reasons with himself. Maybe it’ll give him some closure.

“Five minutes,” Eggsy threatens. “I’ll text my address.”

“Thank you, Eggsy,” Harry says gently and Eggsy hangs up.


Twenty minutes after Eggsy texts Harry his address, as promised, there’s a taxi cab waiting outside, and another fifteen minutes after that, it pulls up to the kerb outside of a posh looking townhouse that is apparently Harry’s home.

When he knocks, there’s a long enough delay that he almost thinks Harry isn’t going to answer, but then he does and Eggsy’s stomach swoops and the anger drains straight out of him. It’s not just because it’s Harry once more right there in front of him, looking just as handsome as he always does. It’s also at the sight of a bandage wrapped around one side of Harry’s head, covering his left eye, and a crutch tucked into one armpit.

“What the fuck?” Eggsy asks immediately, not even waiting to be invited in before he steps into the house to crowd closer to Harry, his hands coming up to frame Harry’s face before his brain can tell them to stop. “The fuck happened to you?”

He feels Harry adjust his stance and then hears the door shut behind them.

“As I said earlier, Eggsy, I had a little accident.”

“This isn’t a little accident, Harry. Did you lose your eye?”

He can’t stop his thumbs from rubbing along Harry’s cheekbones, his right thumb tracing the edge of Harry’s bandage.

“I didn’t lose the eye, but I’m not certain about my sight yet.”

Harry,” Eggsy complains, meaning why didn’t you tell me? and I would have understood and you mean the world to me and I think I only just realised.

“I’m quite all right,” Harry promises softly and Eggsy makes a wounded noise and shifts his weight to the balls of his feet to lean up, lean in, and kiss Harry oh-so gently. He doesn’t dare deepen it; doesn’t want to accidentally hurt Harry, but the hand that Harry doesn’t have on the crutch, comes up to cup the back of Eggsy’s head, keeping him close.

“I didn’t even know,” Eggsy says against his mouth, unable to stop pressing soft kisses to it. “You could have died and I wouldn’t have known.”

“Someone would have told you,” Harry promises, but it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“What kind of job ends in almost losing an eye?” Eggsy argues instead. “Businessmen don’t go around fighting other businessmen.”

He feels Harry smile against his mouth.

“You clearly haven’t met enough of them,” Harry jokes. “But I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was no one’s fault but my own.”

Harry,” Eggsy complains again, and this time he gets an arm around the back of Harry’s neck and kisses him as fiercely as he dares.

Harry’s hand drops to Eggsy’s waist and as they break for air, Harry murmurs, “I have missed you, Eggsy. I had such plans for us.”

Eggsy thinks back to the ruined dinner date and the misguided anger he’d had and feels guilty for the tab he’d run up on Harry’s room that night.

“I may have been a little angry,” Eggsy admits. “I may have ordered a few things from room service that night.”

“So I saw,” Harry tells him lightly. “But it’s been paid for and it’s in the past now.”

“Still feel bad, though,” Eggsy says and Harry’s fingers edge under the hem of Eggsy’s shirt, rubbing gentle circles on his skin. It’s a tender, reassuring touch, and Eggsy drops his head to Harry’s shoulder and holds him close.

“Forget it ever happened, Eggsy,” Harry murmurs, and Eggsy is sure he’s meant to be comforting Harry instead, but he’ll accept anything he can get.

“I’m sorry,” Eggsy apologises, despite what Harry tells him, before realising that he’s clinging to a man who can barely stand, let alone stand and hold Eggsy’s weight. “C’mon, let’s go sit down.”

Harry presses a kiss to the top of Eggsy’s head before pulling away and shuffling to the left, leading Eggsy into his living room. He cautiously lowers himself into the nearest chair and Eggsy takes the one opposite.

“Where were you?” Eggsy asks and Harry rubs idly at the edge of his bandage.

“Kentucky,” he answers. “Settling a political dispute.”

“A political dispute and you almost lost an eye?”

Harry shoots him a wry grin and says, “Someone disagreed with me rather vociferously. Thankfully, I was able to subdue them without fuss. Saved us a world of mess.”

“I’m pretty sure politics are meant to be more boring than that. Less dangerous, too.”

“That’s the United States for you,” Harry tells him and Eggsy rubs a hand through his own hair.

“Jesus, Harry.”

It falls silent between them

“I know it must have been hard not knowing what was going on,” Harry says to him, but Eggsy shakes his head.

“No, no,” he argues. “You were out there getting hurt; I should have known better and trusted you to phone later.”

“No one should be expected to do that, Eggsy,” Harry says. “You acted rationally, better than others would have. You had no reason to trust me like that. I’m just someone you met at a hotel.”

“Maybe at first,” Eggsy replies. “We might be beyond that now.”

Harry shoots him a small smile as he says, “I’m glad I’m not alone in thinking that.”

He may not know how to do relationships, monogamous ones at that, and maybe his plan to break things off has been thrown out the window completely now, but maybe Harry is the right person to try it with.

“Speaking of meeting at the hotel,” Eggsy starts, casually trying to move the conversation and shake away that train of thought. “Why were you even there when you live literally a few minutes away?”

“That’s rather the point,” Harry says. “I very recently had a leak in the house and it was uninhabitable for a few days. I used the nearest hotel I could find and just happened across you.”

“And the million other times you showed up?”

“Well,” Harry says, meeting Eggsy’s gaze and holding it. “I couldn’t bring myself to stay away when you were so near.”

Eggsy’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “You booked the honeymoon suite just because?”

There’s a tinge of colour on Harry’s cheeks as though hearing the truth aloud proves how ludicrous it all is, but he nods all the same, accepting his fate as a madman.

“There was no way for me to invite you back here.”

He’s right; Eggsy never would have left the hotel with Harry. He would have thought Harry was a killer and would have hightailed it out of there. Eggsy doesn’t know if it’s the right time to say it, but he takes the leap of faith anyway.

“I don’t know if you’re even interested in carrying this on, but, I mean, we can do it here if you want. Save you some money and all that.”

If it were a few months earlier, Eggsy would have joked about Harry saving his money for better presents for him instead, but now he holds his tongue because Harry can keep his gifts. He can keep his fancy suites and he can keep his fancy clothes. But most of all, he can keep Eggsy if he wants to. Eggsy knows it could be the worst decision of his life, but he won’t know for certain unless he tries.

Harry leans forward in his chair, close enough to reach out for Eggsy’s hand and hold it tightly.

“I am interested,” Harry tells him. “Very much so, if you are.”

Eggsy nods, trying not to appear too over-enthusiastic, though from the way Harry smiles gently, clearly amused, he may not succeed.

“I actually have something for you,” Harry tells him. “Just a second.”

Eggsy watches Harry push himself up and out of his chair, using his crutch for leverage, though Eggsy belatedly realises he should have probably helped Harry. However, it’s too late and Harry is already up and limping across the room to a small overnight bag sitting on the floor by the door.

He digs through it for a long second before pulling out a nondescript carrier bag. He brings it back to Eggsy and passes it over with a small smile of encouragement.

“What is it?” Eggsy asks before even looking inside and Harry nods his head towards it.

“Open it and see.”

Eggsy does. He peers into the bag and finds a glasses case at the bottom, which is confusing as he doesn’t need glasses in the first place. He reaches inside and pulls the case free, checking it out with careful hands. Inside, there’s a smart pair of sunglasses, the frames dark and sturdy.

With a grin, Eggsy slips them on and turns his face towards Harry.

“What do you think?” Eggsy asks and Harry smiles gently.

“They suit you,” Harry tells him. “Very handsome.”

Eggsy feels his face heat, but he doesn’t look away or give in to the embarrassment.

Instead, he pushes the glasses up to rest on his head and says, “Thanks, Harry,” unsure if he means it for the glasses or for the compliment.

He slips the glasses back into their case, puts it in the bag, and sets it beside him on the settee. He doesn’t need the gift, doesn’t even want gifts anymore, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

Instead, he asks, “What you doing for dinner?”

“I haven’t had time to buy anything yet,” Harry says. “I’m afraid my cupboards are rather empty.”

“That’s good, because I was going to suggest a curry.”

Harry pauses before smiling slowly at Eggsy.

“You would like to stay for dinner?”

“If you’re alright with that,” Eggsy answers and Harry nods almost immediately.

“I would like that,” Harry tells him and Eggsy smiles in return.

“Good, because me too. You want me to call it in? What do you fancy?”

Eggsy pulls his phone out, ready to search for the nearest curry house, but he pauses to glance up at Harry when he doesn’t reply. He finds Harry looking at him fondly, as though he can’t imagine why Eggsy is there still, why Eggsy wants him, or why it’s so easy for them to have a quiet night together after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll have whatever you choose for me,” Harry tells him and Eggsy thinks it might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to him.

He carefully moves his attention back to his phone for fear of standing up, crawling into Harry’s lap, and kissing him silly. As much as he would love to do that, he knows that Harry’s body just isn’t ready for it.

“Hope you like saag,” Eggsy tells him and sets about finding a phone number.


Later that night, when they’re both fat and full and Eggsy insists it’s time for him to head out so that Harry can rest, Harry walks him to the door, his crutch loud against the wooden flooring. Eggsy is half ready to give a cliché speech about enjoying Harry’s company and hoping they can do it again sooner than later, but Harry crowds in close, gets a hand on Eggsy’s face, and kisses him.

He tastes like naan and basmati rice and Eggsy doesn’t give a toss.

He keeps the kiss gentle, but insistent, and Harry’s stubble burns the skin around his mouth. The thought of beard burn from Harry sets his nerves alight and he imagine what it would be like along his chest or down his stomach or between his thighs. He hopes one day he’ll know what it all feels like; for the moment, he’s happy to settle for the rasp of it against Eggsy’s own five o’clock shadow.

Harry is the first to break away, his mouth pink and wet and terribly inviting for more. But Eggsy restrains himself and knows there will be plenty of time in the future for it.

“Goodnight, Harry,” he murmurs, dropping one last chaste kiss to Harry’s lips before tucking his hands into his pockets and heading to the car that Harry called for him earlier.

He glances one last time over his shoulder as he goes, and Harry is already watching with his good eye, waving in a polite farewell.

Eggsy returns it with a smile and hops inside the car, knowing and appreciating the fact that his night went a very different way than what he had been expecting. It’s better than anything he could have imagined and he can’t believe how lucky he’s been.


Eggsy doesn’t call about the sunglasses he left on the settee. He knows that Harry is smart enough to understand that he hasn’t forgotten them, that it’s a conscious decision. He’ll know that Eggsy doesn’t need gifts to win him over anymore and maybe he’ll get the hint that Eggsy thinks of him as more than just some sugar daddy now.


He apparently does get the hint because Eggsy doesn’t see another present for three months. It’s a blissful twelve weeks spent together either at Harry’s house or around London, and the initial fears Eggsy had about things not working out were clearly for naught as it quickly becomes the easiest thing in the world.

He’ll buzz Harry’s doorbell, kiss him hello, and then make them tea as though it’s not the most domestic thing he could possibly do. From the local bakery, Harry will buy ridiculously fancy cakes—ones Eggsy first made fun of, and now can’t get enough of—and they’ll share one while Eggsy talks about his new job. Coincidentally, he now works for a tailor shop that Harry tends to visit rather often, perhaps even more so now that Eggsy works there. He doesn't have enough evidence to prove it yet, but maybe in time he will.

Harry does end up losing the sight in his eye, but the one good thing about it is that he isn’t sent to far off countries for business anymore. He stays mainly in London and Eggsy is more than happy with that. He helps Harry with his physical therapy, mostly in the form of bringing home a pug puppy he bought for five quid off a man outside a Morrisons. Eggsy says they can train it to be a service dog—which in all honesty, Harry doesn’t need, but he humours Eggsy and keeps the mutt anyway, even letting Eggsy name it.

Harry’s sex drive seems to disappear while he’s on pain medication for his injuries, not that Eggsy minds. They’ve already had enough sex to last them a lifetime. Sometimes it’s nice to just curl up on the settee together and quietly watch TV without wandering hands. Then again, he also likes quietly watching TV with wandering hands, which starts happening once Harry has healed.

The first night Harry initiates things, it takes Eggsy by surprise—a pleasant surprise. It’s on a Wednesday night as Eggsy is getting ready to leave and Harry curls his fingers around Eggsy’s elbow to tug him back as he begins heading for the door. A goodnight kiss isn’t unusual, but this time there’s intent and Eggsy’s mouth opens easily against Harry’s tongue, and before he knows it, there are hands on his arse and a half-hard cock nudging against his thigh.

Eggsy gives in with little effort from Harry, letting himself be led upstairs to Harry’s bedroom. Harry puts him on his back and fucks him until Eggsy’s panting and clinging to him. Neither of them lasts long and Eggsy comes so hard he gets it on his chin. Harry kisses it off, kisses his mouth, and huffs a quiet laugh into his ear.

“Stay the night,” Harry tells him, and Eggsy does. He wraps himself around Harry and tucks his cold toes between Harry’s feet.

It’s a life Eggsy never would have pictured himself being a part of, but now that it's his, he doubts he could have it any other way.


One afternoon—a rare afternoon where he’s alone at his own flat as Harry has to work—he receives a text from Harry.

Meet me at the hotel. Six-thirty, it says.

Eggsy raises his eyebrow at it, but sends back ok. see you then.

He has no idea why Harry would want to go back there, but he’ll show up because if Harry wants something, he’s really rather hopeless at saying no.

He doesn’t dress up—doesn’t see the need for it—and walks there with a grin on his face that he can’t seem to shift. Harry isn’t there yet when he arrives, but he is early, and Roxy is there anyway.

“Haven’t seen you here lately,” she says, automatically pouring him a drink and nudging the glass towards him. “Something happen?”

Before he can answer, a hand touches his shoulder and he turns to find Harry beside him, his gaze bright and happy as though pleased to see Eggsy. Automatically, after weeks of habit, Eggsy leans in, letting Harry meet him halfway for a chaste kiss.

“Hi,” Eggsy murmurs as he pulls away.

Harry runs his hand down Eggsy’s arm and quietly replies, “Hello, Eggsy.”

When he turns back to Roxy, she has a knowing look on her face, but she doesn’t say a word about it.

Instead, she glances at Harry and asks, “Would you like a drink, sir?”

“Not right now, thank you,” Harry replies politely as he slips into the seat beside Eggsy.

Roxy walks away to serve someone at the opposite end of the bar and Eggsy turns his chair towards Harry.

“Why we here?” he asks. “Want to relive the old days?”

Harry shoots him a lascivious grin and says, “Is that what you’d like?”

Eggsy curls his tongue around the straw in his drink, a move he used to use on other businessmen and takes a draw of it before setting it aside.

“That depends on if you’ve got anything for me or not, Mr Hart.”

Harry seems to like the formal title and he reaches into his pocket. For a second, Eggsy thinks he’s attempting to adjust himself in his trousers, however, instead, Harry pulls out a small box and sets it on the counter in front of Eggsy.

“Just a little something,” Harry tells him and Eggsy holds his gaze for a long second before reaching out for it.

It’s light when he picks it up and something rattles when he shakes it, but he has no idea what it could be.

“Is it something kinky or can I open it here?”

Harry nods, adding, “You may open it here.”

Carefully, Eggsy unfastens the bow on top of the box and slips the lid off. Inside, there’s something loosely wrapped in tissue paper and it has a surprising amount of weight to it. He glances up at Harry with suspicion, but his face is expressionless, not giving anything away. Slowly, Eggsy unwraps it and, at the centre, he finds a key. He stares at it for a long moment before staring once more at Harry.

“What’s this for?” he asks, heart picking up speed at the prospect of it being something important.

“It’s a key,” Harry says, his words heavy with sarcasm and Eggsy rolls his eyes.

“Thanks, I know that,” Eggsy retorts. “What’s it a key for?”

Eggsy has a suspicion about what it could be for, but he waits for Harry to say it.

“It happens to be a key for my front door.”

Eggsy swallows, heart beating even faster.

“You’re giving it to me?”

“I was hoping you could use it.”

“You don’t want me to ring the doorbell anymore?” Eggsy jokes, not knowing what else to say.

“No need to ring the doorbell of your own house,” Harry says, making his intent fully clear and Eggsy can’t stop the grin from breaking out across his face at the thought of living with Harry.

“Really?” he asks and Harry nods.

“If you’d like.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy tells him. “I would.”

He keeps the key clenched tightly in his palm as he leans forward in his chair, sliding his free hand behind Harry’s head and pulling him in for another kiss, this one quick and dirty.

“You want to go home and christen everything?” Eggsy asks, only half joking.

Harry leans in to kiss him once more, as though he just can’t help himself, before shaking his head.

“I thought we could celebrate another way,” Harry tells him, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a keycard. “For old time’s sake.”

Eggsy knows it’s a key for the honeymoon suite and he grins, grabbing the box off the counter and shoving it into his pocket. He hops off his chair and reaches out for Harry’s hand, tugging until he relents and gets up, Eggsy practically dragging him to the doorway.

“C’mon, Harry,” he says, “we’ve got making up to do.”

When he glances back, Harry is already smiling gently as though it’s just what he wants and Eggsy can’t help but grin back, wanting it too.