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The Bigger the Dream, the Harder the Grind

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"You need to tone it down or do something about that aggression," Merlin advised Harry as soon as the senior agent stepped into his lab. "Arthur is going to call you out on it someday and you'll be on suspension with mandatory visits to the psychologist until you've proven to be less of a liability."

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," Harry said innocently as he started going through his friend's drawers, looking for the secret stash of scotch that he knew was somewhere in this room. It had been a very long and tiring day and he deserved a drink or two after a job well done at the very least.

Merlin turned around from his wall of monitors to give Harry a dirty look, one that Harry purposefully ignored. "I'm talking about the excessive use of violence on your last mission, Galahad." Harry continued to search for a drink, opening and closing drawers one after another, failing to give Merlin any acknowledgment. They hadn't finished off the bottle last time had they?

"Harry," Merlin said, sounding as weary as Harry felt about this conversation, "You fought off 10 guards when you could have easily just crept past the room with none being the wiser. While you’re getting creative with the headcount, you’re not getting scored on your artistic ability. You could have at least made it clean and quick instead of redecorating the room with a layer of red paint."

"What sane person paints a waiting room split pea green?" Harry reasoned with Merlin, "You saw it. I haven’t seen a room that gaudy since the 70s-"

"That's not the point!"

"Well, what is your point? They're all dead now," Harry deadpanned, finally turning to face his friend and meeting the man's peeved gaze. "I completed the objective so what does it matter? I'm not in a mood for this tedious conversation, Merlin." For god's sake, he'd just come back from the mission and didn't need a play-by-play of what had happened in the last 24 hours. He was also a little too old to be lectured on how to do his bloody job.

"It matters because it didn't have to happen at all!" Merlin said, taking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "You're picking fights that don't need to happen. You're reckless and straying from the objective." He tapped sharply on the folder sitting at his desk with an index finger. "It was a simple sneak in, grab files, and sneak back out kind of job. It's like you're looking for a fight and one of these days you're going to get caught and I'm going to be the one who has to figure out a way to save your pale, sorry arse." Merlin sighed laboriously before putting his glasses back on and giving his friend an irritated frown. "I think you need to get laid."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry said indignantly, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. "What does that have anything to do with-"

"I’m no psychologist, but it seems like you're taking your frustrations out on the targets," Merlin accused. “You need something to take the edge off and my bottle of scotch isn’t going to cut it, I’m afraid.”

"I'm not-"

"There's an app for this you know," Merlin said. "It's called Grindr. It's highly popular amongst men who are gay or bi-curious-"

"I know what it is," Harry replied testily, eager to nip the conversation in the bud before it went any further. "I know what it is and I don't need it." He was appalled that they were even having this conversation.

"I'm just saying, Harry," Merlin said, "It's highly effective for men who just want 'no strings attached' sex. It might be right up your alley." Merlin looked almost smug with himself when Harry narrowed his eyes. Low blow, Merlin. So what if Harry had hang-ups about relationships? So what if it had been years since his last long-term relationship and so fucking what if it had blown up spectacularly in Harry’s face? "You seem like you've got a lot of pent up frustration inside, Harry, and you need to find a better outlet."

"Like you're one to talk. When was the last time you've touched anything affectionately besides your tablet? Maybe you should try the bloody app," Harry muttered and straightened his cuffs stiffly. Forget it. Harry wasn't in the mood for Merlin's scotch anymore if it meant having to partake in the absurd conversation.

"Who says I haven't?" The technical guru responded and turned back to his monitors where he was in the midst of monitoring one of Gawain's missions.

Turning on his heels to leave, Harry ignored the comeback because Merlin was purposefully being a little shit. They'd been friends and colleagues for over 20 years but that didn't mean Harry wanted to hear about his friend's sex life, nor did he want to hear Merlin dissecting his.


By the time he left the tailor shop and got into the waiting taxi to be chauffeured home, Harry's irritation had festered into something dark and ugly. As he watched the familiar storefronts flash by, he mulled over Merlin's words, and while it stung to admit it, there was some truth to his friend's observation. For the past few weeks (months even, if he wanted to be honest with himself), there had been something inside Harry that felt unsettled and discontent. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but there was an anxiousness inside that left him tossing and turning in his large bed at night, waking him up with a shiver and his sheets tangled around his waist and legs. He’d spent countless nights afterward, staring at the ceiling feeling just as white, stark, and blank as it was.

The Kingsman taxi stopped in front of his house and he thanked the driver, wishing him a good night before heading into his house and shutting the door behind himself with a belabored sigh. Harry loved his job, he reminded himself as he shrugged his coat off and headed to the mini bar to fix himself a drink. Harry was born to be a Kingsman. There wasn't anything else in the world he would rather be than a Kingsman agent. He bled and breathed for it and couldn't imagine a life without it.

And yet...

There was something in him yearning for more than guts and glory, something that nagged at him in the back of his mind, telling him that there had to be more to life than this. He was a 50-year-old man with no pets, no family... no loved one. It was impossible to maintain a normal life with this job, honestly. Who in their right mind would put up with his traveling around the world at the spur of the moment, disappearing for weeks or months on end when he went deep undercover? For the 30 odd years that Harry had been an agent, he'd liked his life just the way it was. He maintained a close-knit circle of friends and they went out for dinner and a pint every once in a while. Most of the time, his job kept him too busy to think about these kinds of banal things. Harry had sacrificed a lot of his life so that everyone else in the world could have a normal life.

And he was fine with that. Really. The last thing he wanted while dodging bullets was a call from a needy boyfriend or (god forbid) husband upset that he’d forgotten to buy milk or that he wasn’t giving them enough attention. All his relationships had ended that way, flames burning out because it was impossible to maintain two lives so different from each other. It wasn't them. It was always Harry who had let the relationships crash and burn after he got bored of routine domesticity. Try as he might, Harry was addicted to adrenaline and the thought of an ordinary, conventional relationship bored him to tears. Maybe he just hadn't met the right person, but Harry had never been able to devote himself to anyone or anything besides Kingsman.

Harry took a seat in his favorite, plush armchair, and was careful not to splash the cognac he'd poured into a thin, delicate tumbler. The house was quiet, just the way he liked it, private and far from noisy traffic and chatty pedestrians. There wasn't anything to bother him but the quiet ticking of a traditional grandfather clock in the corner of the room. On most nights, Harry relished in the peace and quiet after a long, arduous day at work. Often times, he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for hours on end after pulling a long night out in the freezing rain on a surveillance job.

But tonight, there was a heavy, lingering silence drifting in his house. Harry missed Mr. Pickle and the sound of tiny footsteps that followed him everywhere and the sound of exciting yapping when he came home. He hated that Merlin's probably right. It had been a long time since he'd been with anyone. Not years. Months maybe, after a particularly rough and devastating assignment that left him cold and empty inside, left him craving any human touch to distract him from nightmares for a night or two. With his dapper looks and "don't give a fuck" swagger, as Percival had one put it, it wasn't hard to find someone willing to help distract him.

Tonight, Harry needed a distraction. He fished out his phone and turned it over in his hands thoughtfully. Harry rubbed the rim of his tumbler against his lower lip for a minute before deciding: Fuck it. It wasn't like he had anything else to do tonight.

He took a minute to look for the app and stared at the questionable description:

"Grindr, the world ’s leading mobile social network app exclusively for gay, bi and curious men—is sexier and faster than ever."

Harry pressed "Install" while trying adamantly not to question his life choices. As he watched the download bar slowly reach 100%, Harry took another sip of his drink, enjoying the sweetness of vanilla notes on the tip of his tongue before the bitter tang of the cognac seeped in.

When it asked him to set up a profile, Harry reluctantly put in a username, feeling silly as he tried to come up with something that wasn't: 1) already taken, 2) creepy, and 3) boring. Then, the app asked for his age. A little hook phrase. Marital status. Height. weight. Body type...

"What the hell is a tribe?" Harry muttered to himself as he chose to ignore some fields, feeling quite out of his element as he filled out his profile. The app wasn't made for men like him. It was for hip, young kids who were glued to their phones all the time, sexting and sending racy photos to each other. It was for the Instagrammers, Twitterers, Facebookers, and Snap Chatters, none of which Harry had ever cared to use.

He went through an exhaustive list of questions wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into because now the app had more information about him than government records that the Kingsman tech department worked so hard to keep under tight wraps. When the app asked for a photo, Harry pursed his lips because he obviously didn't want to show a picture of himself on anything as notorious as Grindr. Normal people took pictures of themselves or landscapes. Food and pets were also good options. Harry didn't have any of those handy, so he took a quick picture of the drink in his hand as a placeholder, knowing that he wouldn't be getting anything tonight with his questionable, half-assed profile. Which was fine because he was just playing with the app out of curiosity anyway. He wasn't that desperate.

Once Harry finished his profile, he got to the meat of the program. It was a collage of photos showing people nearby, some who looked like they could be one of his neighbors from a few houses down the block. Harry scrolled past those quickly. He saw a variety of people from pale and skinny boys to hefty and hairy men. A lot of the photos were obscure, hiding most of their faces, but still managing to show off a lot of skin. Harry scrolled through pictures of firm buttocks and ripped abs. He also got an eyeful of chubby "dad bods", questionable tattoos, and men who looked like they were a little too full of themselves as they posed in front of a bathroom mirror with infamous "duck lips".

Grindr, as it turned out, was mostly a sea of photos with headless, naked torsos. After 10 minutes of scrolling through all the photos, Harry found himself a little underwhelmed and annoyed. What the fuck was a man like him doing on Grindr? Damn Merlin and his bad ideas.

Harry was about to close the app and call it a night when his received a notification that someone had messaged him. He knew it was probably some stranger sending a picture of his dick, but Harry opened the message anyway out of morbid curiosity.

Eggsbentovereasy: Nice hands. What are you drinkin?

Harry blinked at his phone, staring at the innocent text message. Weary of the questionable username, he clicked on the man's profile to see a picture of a rather attractive young blond winking back at him. The blond had a cigarette hanging from his lips with London's city lights in the background. He was also wearing a dark snapback obscuring some of his face, but Harry could still see a strong jawline and a cheeky smirk around the lit cigarette. His profile stated that he 25 years old and Harry groaned inwardly. Jesus Christ, he was practically a baby! The rest of his profile was plain with a simple quote, "Say Hey. Be Chill. Be fun." There wasn't anything on the screen that screamed serial killer. In fact, the man was very easy on the eyes, with classic good looks that probably turned a number of heads when he entered a room.

Harry was intrigued. He flicked back to the message screen and, despite his better judgment, decided to respond.

J0xfords: Thank you. It's a Prunier V.S.O.P. Cognac.

Eggsbentovereasy: That ’s some fancy shit. U must be a very posh bloke.

Harry tilted his head and raised an eyebrow quizzically at the blunt assumption

J0xfords: What makes you say that?

Eggsbentovereasy: A guy like u sipping on some classy drink instead of showing off your abs like the rest of the plebs on here? U probably didn ’t want to show your face ‘cause ur either ugly as hell or u want to stay private.

That made Harry chuckle.

J0xfords: I could be ugly AND still want my privacy.

Eggsbentovereasy: Yea, but ur cufflinks look like they cost more than my fuckin paycheck. If ur ugly, at least u got good taste, mate.

Harry glanced down at his left hand briefly, surprised that the man was able to deduce so much from a low-quality photo that Harry hadn't given a second thought to.

Eggsbentovereasy: What's a guy like u doing on Grindr? U hiding a double life from your trophy wife?

Harry finished his drink in two quick gulps and set the empty glass down on a side table. He shifted in his armchair to get comfortable as he thought of an appropriate response.

J0xfords: That's very observant of you, but you forgot to point out the fact that I'm not wearing a wedding ring. I'm not married.

Eggsbentovereasy: No shit? That's good, 'cause I'm not either ;)

Harry actually broke into a smile as they continued the inane banter. There was something about chatting aimlessly with the young man that Harry found surprisingly enjoyable. It certainly beat spending the night watching reruns of the Great British Bake Off. There wasn't any pressure to trick someone into giving classified information or a need to run through hallways with guns blazing. He wasn't Henry or Mr. Devere or any of his many other aliases. With the cloak of online anonymity, Harry could just be himself.

He started feeling a small rush every time his phone vibrated, notifying him of a new message. Much to his surprise, despite the age difference, their conversation flowed easily, sometimes edging close to flirtation, sometimes touching on vapid topics like TV and sports. Harry liked documentaries while his new acquaintance was more a fan of comedies. They both like football, but the boy always rooted for the underdogs. Harry teased him a bit, commenting that he really shouldn't be talking to someone who was a fan of Manchester City's arch rival. They talked about movies, to which the boy gave him shit for liking romantic comedies and they playfully debated on the nuances between a shitty chick-flick and a decent rom-com.

Despite their differences, there was an eagerness to learn about one another. There was a playful undertone in every message that loosened Harry up and helped get his mind off the latest shitty mission.

His grandfather clock suddenly chimed, startling Harry when he realized how much time had passed.

J0xfords: It's getting late.

Eggsyovereasy: It's 11... on a Friday...

J0xfords: Yes, well some of us have to things to do in the morning and can't be lounging in bed nursing hangovers all day.

Eggsbentovereasy: Are u seriously going to bed? The night's barely started. This is like... when grandpas usually go to bed :(

Harry huffed a little.

J0xfords: Has anyone ever told you to mind your manners and not make fun of your elders?

Eggsbentovereasy: Plenty. A lot of people have tried to spank me to teach me a lesson too.

J0xfords: Maybe they should have tried a little harder.

Eggsbentovereasy: Maybe. R u volunteering? ;) You should come hang out with me tonight.

Harry paused as he read the invitation twice over. He didn't doubt the fact that the boy had a nice ass to go with that lovely face, but there was something about the situation that made him a little uneasy.

J0xfords: You realize that I'm old enough to be your father...

Eggsbentovereasy: Who says I don't have daddy issues? :P

Before Harry could respond and talk some sense into the boy, he got another message.

Eggsbentovereasy: I got some rules though. None of that bondage stuff. No ball gags or cross dressing. No bloodplay. No fisting.

J0xfords: Fisting??

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Eggsbentovereasy: U'd be surprised by the shit some of the guys are into on here. Fuckin freaks.

J0xfords: Okay, no fisting. That seems fair...

Eggsbentovereasy: So u wanna meet up?

There was the million dollar question. Harry stared at the invitation for a long time, unsure of how to respond. Reading into the long lag between responses, the young man persisted.

Eggsbentovereasy: If ur just looking to make friends, ur on the wrong app. I'm looking for a bit of fun tonight and if it ain't u, it's gonna be some other bloke. I'd rather it be u 'cause we been chattin for an hour and I think we got something good going on.

He had a point. This was why Harry was on Grindr, wasn't it?

His phone vibrated again and Harry's eyes widened, breath hitching when he realized that the next message was actually a picture. It was a picture of a midriff sculpted to perfection, comparable to statues from the renaissance that Harry had admired in the Louvre.

"Eggsbentovereasy" had taken a picture of himself, teeth holding up the hem of his shirt to give Harry a glimpse of creamy skin that was delicately littered with a few freckles. His chest and abs were defined and made Harry's fingers itch to trace every ridge and curve. The lower part of his abdomen had a sparse trace of dirty blond hair that led downward in a tantalizing tease until it disappeared into the elastic band of his boxer briefs. The thing that most captivated Harry's attention was actually the cheeky wink that the young man gave in the photo. The man knew exactly how tempting he looked and the grin he wore as he held up his shirt between his teeth only sweetened the pot a little more.

Eggsbentovereasy: How's that for incentive? Interested?

Harry Hart, you are a dirty old man. This time, Harry didn't hesitate as he quickly tapped out a simple answer.

J0xfords: Yes.


This was a mistake.

Harry regretted ever listening to Merlin and vowed to never take advice from his friend regarding his personal life ever again. The man could take his bright ideas and shove it up his ass. Harry had picked a pub nearby, knowing it would be crowded enough that no one would pay any mind to two strangers meeting up. The crowd was also just thin enough that they wouldn't have to shout at each other to be heard over the noisy din of patrons and pounding music. Plus, Harry rather liked the choices on tap that rotated every time he had dropped by in the past.

As each minute passed, Harry second guessed himself. He wasn't worried that he was meeting a crazy psycho or a swindler because he was experienced enough to handle that type of situation nearly blindfolded. Instead, he was worried that he'd been a stupid old fool. Harry checked his watch again, noting that the boy was 10 minutes late. No one was going to come. Maybe the boy chickened out last minute or maybe he hadn't intended to meet up at all and had a hobby of trolling people online. This was probably a joke and a waste of his time. It had to be one of the dumbest ideas Harry had had in a while.

Just as Harry was about to head out, a hand shot out and grabbed the sleeve of his suit lightly. Harry's defensive instincts kicked into gear but he relaxed immediately when he realized it was only a young, blond man greeting him with a friendly smile.

"Bloody hell, I knew you'd be a posh git." He eyed Harry up and down appreciatively.

Despite already having a photo of the boy on his phone, Harry was stunned speechless as he stared at the pretty young thing in front of him, all pink flushed cheeks, sea-green eyes, and soft inviting lips. The man was almost a head shorter than Harry, and despite his outfit (questionable joggers, loose jacket, and a white snapback) he looked quite firm and fit.

"You sure your Aston Martin's gonna be okay in this neighborhood?" The man teased as he tugged at Harry's sleeve again, urging them towards the bar.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he lightly joked back. "It's a Bentley and it's in the safe hands of the valet outside."

The man laughed and took a seat on a stool at the bar while Harry remained standing. "And you think I'm the cheeky one? Sorry I'm late. Had some stuff at home to take care of. You wanna drink?"

Harry ordered a pint of Guinness. Yes, alcohol. Alcohol sounded like a great idea and Harry was going to need a lot of it if he was actually going to go through with this.

"I'm Eggsy by the way," the young man finally introduced himself.

Eggsy leaned against the bar and turned his head toward Harry to give him a soft smile, one that looked so bright and warm that it nearly melted Harry's weary defenses and barriers away.

"Eggsy..." Harry repeated, testing the words in his mouth. Ah, Eggsbentovereasy. Clever. Harry felt as though he'd heard the name before but couldn't put a place or time to it, which wasn’t a surprise given the number of people he’d come across in his lifetime. Too many names and faces to remember them all.

"It's a nickname," Eggsy clarified once he saw Harry's perplexed expression. "It ain't like my parents had a chicken farm or anything."'

Harry chuckled and offered his hand out. "Harry."

Eggsy took his hand in a firm handshake and Harry quickly noted of the roughness of his fingers. These weren't the hands of a boy who'd been raised spoiled. Judging from Eggsy's questionable taste in clothing and his rough accent, Harry would wager a guess that Eggsy had had a number of rough years growing up. And despite it all, Eggsy's smile still managed to be warmer than the sun on a bright, summer day. The man was just so breathtakingly beautiful that Harry had to force himself not to stare.

"Nice to meet ya, Harry," Eggsy said, clinking his mug against Harry's when their drinks arrived. He gave a small protest when Harry insisted on paying but relented when Harry more or less shoved money into the bartender's hands and waved the man away.

"If I'm the rich, poncy man you think I am, then I must insist on paying," Harry said. Eggsy merely grinned and took a sip of his drink, his sharp eyes never leaving Harry's. There was something about the boy's gaze that sent an electric thrill down Harry's spine. Eggsy had lovely green eyes, yes, but there was something in that look that told Harry that Eggsy was more than just a pretty face. Eggsy was studying him just as much as he was observing Eggsy and taking down notes.

He wondered what Eggsy thought him. Too overdressed for a pub like this and out of place in this neighborhood. People often mistook him for a repressed, traditional, stodgy man given the way he dressed and talked in an overly hoity accent, but he was a far cry from that assumption. Harry had spent his youth giving his handlers heart attacks with his reckless stunts. And while he had learned to curb his tongue as he matured with age, Harry was still more than capable of making the genteel crowd clutch at their pearls with a few profanities in several languages. He wondered if Eggsy saw through his facade or if the boy was merely checking him out, on the prowl on Grindr looking for a sugar daddy to fuck tonight.

"Do you use the app often?" Harry asked out of curiosity and hoped that Eggsy wasn't too offended by the question. Harry was well educated in the etiquette of a gentleman, but he doubted that was how young people operated these days. They were a brash and bold generation, speaking their minds and hooking up with strangers they barely knew online. Given the fact that someone had actually asked to fist Eggsy's ass, his question was probably one of the few tamer ones Eggsy had been asked.

The young lad blinked at him for a split second and broke into a grin.

"I use the app once in a while... when I'm in the mood," Eggsy admitted openly. Eggsy tilted his head to the side as he watched Harry, and Harry traced the curve of the boy's neck with his eyes. His gaze lingered on the column of pale skin as he wondered how sensitive Eggsy was. Would Eggsy laugh and jerk away ticklishly if his neck was kissed? Or would he sigh and tremble, arching closer for more? There was a freckle on the side of his throat just begging to be kissed and Harry had to drag his eyes away from it to meet Eggsy's curious gaze again.

"Let me guess though," Eggsy said, "this is your first time?"

"It might be my second or third time," Harry lied shamelessly because god forbid he actually admitted to being new at this sort of thing when he was twice as old as the boy.

"Bullshit," Eggsy said, shaking his head and looking at Harry with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "if this was your second or even your third time, you'd have me in the bathroom stall already, fucking my brains out before you even told me your name. Half the time, guys just want me to call them 'Daddy'."

Eggsy's blunt words did wonders to Harry's imagination. He easily pictured Eggsy with his forehead pressed against the bathroom stall, panting heavily and struggling to keep quiet as he was fucked roughly from behind. Harry was utterly distracted when he started thinking about Eggsy's fit body pressed against his own, the boy wrapped tight around his cock, milking him dry.

"This is definitely your first time." Eggsy said and stared at him like he could read Harry's mind and see all the dirty things Harry was imagining. His soft, pink lips quirked into a small smirk, "and I guess that means I get to pop your cherry."

"I've had sex before," Harry said drolly.

"Oh, I'm sure." Eggsy agreed easily. "I bet you're a beast in bed." He gave Harry a wink and took another sip of his beer, reminding Harry that they'd barely finished half of their drinks. "That's what I like about men like you."

"Men like me?" Harry said slowly.

"Mhmm. Older men like you..." Eggsy reached out and boldly ran his hand along Harry's shoulder like he was about flicking off an invisible fleck of lint and then slowly slid the palm his hand down the front of Harry’s suit, appreciating firm pecs underneath it all. Naturally, Harry leaned in a little closer to the touch, drawn into the man's magnetic charm and confidence. "Older men like you have a lot of experience under your belt."

Eggsy's bright eyes darted down for emphasis, checking out the goods. Harry was flattered by the appraising gaze. He knew he wasn't unattractive by any means and had his fair share of hungry looks in the past, but he was much older than Eggsy, and someone like Eggsy, with his youthful, handsome looks and charisma, could choose anyone he wanted. So yes, Harry was flattered that Eggsy was looking at him like he was a four-course meal and Eggsy had been lost at sea for weeks with nothing but crackers to eat.

Harry darted his tongue out to wet his lips as Eggsy dragged his gaze slowly upwards, up his long legs, lingering slightly at the junction of his thighs. As Eggsy's gaze continued to travel up, Harry could see Eggsy's eyes dart from side to side to take in the width of his shoulders, to his mouth, and finally, settle on his eyes so they were making eye contact again. The young man's teeth scraped against his lower lip in a hungry expression and his green eyes had that dilated look that clearly said Eggsy was most definitely interested in what he saw.

"So I'm your type then?" Harry asked rhetorically. He already knew the answer based on how Eggsy looked like he couldn't wait get on his knees and wrap his mouth around Harry's cock for a taste.

"Harry," Eggsy said his name breathlessly and Harry rather liked how his name sounded that way. The younger man blinked like he was trying to get rid of the dazed look in his eyes. "Fuckin' hell. You're probably everyone's type. There probably isn't a person who doesn't want to fuck you and if they don't want to fuck you, it's probably because they want to BE you."

Harry blinked at Eggsy, surprised by how earnest the boy sounded.

"That is one of the most flattering things anyone has ever said to me," Harry said warmly.

"Well, what about me?" Eggsy asked innocently. Their gazes dropped as Eggsy shifted in his stool, legs spreading slowly in a lewd invitation.

"What about you?" Harry stared, mesmerized, as Eggsy sat there, sprawled indecorously against the bar counter. He looked like he needed to be thoroughly ravished. No, Harry corrected himself because only innocent maidens needed a ravishing. Eggsy looked like he needed to be bent over the stool and fucked within an inch of his life to wipe that smirk off his face.

"You’re in a completely different level, mate. Am I really your type?" Eggsy clarified.

Boldly, Harry took a step forward, claiming the space between Eggsy's spread thighs. He glanced discreetly around the room to make sure no one was paying any attention before lifting his hand to cup the side of the young man's handsome face, his thumb tracing the edge of the Eggsy's fine jawline. He could feel Eggsy lean into to the touch instinctively, skin soft and warm under his fingertips.

"You are one of the loveliest things I have ever laid eyes on," Harry answered honestly.

He marveled at the way Eggsy's eyes widened a fraction in surprise before his cheeks grew a deep shade of pink, pleased, mouth parting obediently when Harry's thumb pressed against his lips. They were plush and damp against the pad of his thumb. Harry held his breath as he watched and felt Eggsy's tongue dart out teasingly to lick the sensitive skin of his thumb.

Eggsy's thighs tightened around Harry's hips, holding him there between his legs, not that Harry had any intention of pulling away. Filthy thoughts ran through his mind as he pictured the things they could be doing in this position if they were somewhere private. Harry wanted to feel those legs around his waist as he pounded Eggsy into a mattress or a wall somewhere. He wanted to undo Eggsy, ripping the boy's cocky semblance to shreds until he was a trembling mess, unable to make coherent sentences.

Eggsy reached up, light fingers running along the lapel of Harry's suit, like he was marveling at the material and fine craftsmanship.

"So why haven't you kissed me yet?" The youth asked, playing with Harry's tie clip and looking at him with a challenge.

Without a second thought, Harry captured Eggsy's mouth with his own in a gentle, cautious kiss, enjoying the softness and warmth of the other man's lips. The simple slide of their lips sent a wave of pleasure through him, a thrilling sensation that swept through him, like a little bolt bringing him back to life from a murky darkness he'd been drowning in. Harry had kissed a lot of people in his lifetime, some for work, some for pleasure. He couldn't even remember all their faces, but this one... As soon as their lips touched, it was like something inside of him had broken free. He felt a lightness in his chest and a stirring in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a long time. Harry pulled away a second later to assess the situation. His lips were tingling from the simple, brief contact and he could see from Eggsy's startled expression that the boy was just as astonished by how good the chaste kiss had felt.

Wrapping his hand around Harry’s tie, Eggsy pulled him in harder for another kiss. This time, it was much firmer, more determined, and Harry cupped the back of Eggsy's neck, tilting the man's head just so to deepen the kiss, his mouth molding over Eggsy’s and urging it open. Eggsy felt so damn good in Harry's hands, against his lips, sighing into his mouth like he was a few degrees away from melting. Harry repressed a groan but felt a thrill shivering through him as he delved in for a taste of Eggsy’s hot mouth and felt the man’s warm, wet tongue tease his own. Eggsy had a good mouth, made for kissing and all kinds of sin that had Harry wanting more and more of whatever the man had to offer. When the kiss ended again minutes later, Eggsy's eyes were heavy-lidded and his mouth was red and parted, letting out shallow breaths that brushed against Harry's lips like a soft whisper.

Eggsy cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, thighs finally relaxing to release his grip around Harry's waist. "I need to use the loo," he said, his voice hoarse with lust as he tilted his head to point in the general direction of the bathrooms. He hopped off the stool and walked off in a bit of a rush before Harry could respond.

Harry stayed by the bar, watching as Eggsy wandered off and disappeared behind a door. He took the opportunity to finish his Guinness, swallowing it down in several gulps before licking the foam off his lips. He set the glass down and stalked after the boy, heading toward the bathroom past the oblivious crowd in the pub. The door squeaked as it closed behind him and he saw a row of urinals along the wall with a few private stalls in the back of the room.

Eggsy was there waiting with his hands in his pockets. He grinned when Harry finally came in. "Took you long enough."

"I had to finish my drink," Harry replied as he stalked closer to his prey. He was already half hard in anticipation. "It's a sin to waste alcohol."

Eggsy snorted and reached out for him when he was within arms length. His fingers gripped the front of Harry's suit tightly and pulled him in for another kiss. This time, there was no gentleness. The kiss was hard, full of want and need and Harry's lips hurt from the bruising force of it but he didn't stop, didn't pull back.

Eggsy pushed him backward and they stumbled into a stall, mouths on each other again, determined to devour one another. Harry blindly groped for the door's lock as his tongue delved into the younger man's mouth, searching and plundering, loving the fact that Eggsy was kissing back just as desperately, eager to explore and taste Harry's mouth. Once the metal bolt slid securely into its slot, locking the stall door, Harry cupped the back of Eggsy's head, deepening the kiss until stubble scraped roughly against skin.

Not one to beat around the bush, Eggsy reached over to unbutton Harry's suit and pull his shirt tails up sloppily before going for the front of his trousers, giving Harry's hard-on an experimental squeeze and sending a bolt of pleasure coursing through Harry's body, down to his very toes. Harry carded his hands through Eggsy's hair and then gripped hard against the short strands, eliciting a low growl from the back of Eggsy's throat. The action knocked the Eggsy's cap off accidentally but neither of them could be bothered to care when it hit the ground.

His need for Eggsy was almost violent in the way he kissed the younger man and manhandled him. It was like a dam had broken in Harry and he couldn’t hold back. Why should he? Not when he had a delectable, willing person who kissed back just as hard. Just like Eggsy’s kisses, the man’s hands were demanding, running along Harry’s back, messing up his styled hair, greedily exploring.

Snarling after Eggsy had bit down on his lower lip and given it a languid lick afterward, Harry pinned Eggsy against the wall with the weight of his body. His free hand reached back to grope the young man's ass, squeezing hard, appreciating the firm, rounded flesh and he pulled their hips together until he could feel Eggsy's hard length pressed against his hip. Eggsy made delicious sounds against Harry's mouth as they rutted against each other and kissed messily. Letting go of the man's pert behind, Harry slipped his hand under Eggsy's shirt, finally getting a feel of warm, silky skin over hard muscles under his fingertips. His hand traced up the athletic torso, thumb brushing against a nipple and drawing a sharp gasp from Eggsy. Beautiful. Eggsy keened a little and arched into the touch when Harry pinched the nipple lightly. The tips of his fingers briefly brushed against something hard and warm; metal from a necklace resting just below Eggsy's collarbone.

"Harry," Eggsy groaned his name with impatience. He grabbed Harry's wrist, pulling it from under his shirt and forcing it down to cup the hard length bulging from his loose joggers. Harry obliged and gave it a firm squeeze, loving the throaty sounds Eggsy made in response. As he undid the front of Eggsy's pants, the boy returned the favor by pulling out Harry's hard cock from his undone trousers.

"Oh Jesus," Eggsy said, staring at the thick length in his hand. "You've got great cock, Harry." Eggsy spat in his palm, wrapped his wet hand around Harry's cock and started jerking him off.

The first touch was electric, sending tendrils of pleasure through Harry’s system and leaving him barely able focus when Eggsy gave his cock a few slow tugs, trying to gauge what Harry liked by his reactions. Harry reached down and covered Eggsy's hand with his own to teach the younger man to go the slow, tight pace that he usually liked when he touched himself.

Oh yes. That was perfect. Harry let out a strangled moan. Eggsy was a quick study.

When Eggsy got the hang of it, Harry let go and pushed the man's pants and boxers down just enough to release his cock from its confines. Harry broke from another kiss to lick his palm and grip the boy's length. Eggsy was hot in his hand, hard, and beading precome at the tip. Harry's thumb played against the slit, catching against the slick precome, and smeared the slickness around the head of Eggsy's cock. He felt Eggsy shudder against him, cursed under his breath, and thrust up into Harry's palm.

They stayed like that, kissing deeply and stroking, hands growing faster as they got closer to climax. It didn't take long for Harry to come first with a long, low groan against Eggsy’s mouth, his thick semen coating Eggsy's hand until the boy's grip grew too slippery.

Harry's grip tightened around Eggsy's cock, moving with determination to return the favor. They’d broken the kiss, foreheads touching now as Eggsy looked down, watching Harry fist his cock. Harry could hear Eggsy's heavy panting, feel the man's body tense as he got closer to tipping over the brink of orgasm. Eggsy’s free hand was clutching him at the small of his back, grabbing the material of Harry’s jacket tightly like his legs were about to give out any minute.

Suddenly, the bathroom door squeaked open and laughter and footsteps trailed in as several men entered. They were boisterously loud as they ribbed at each other, talking about game scores while pissing into the urinals against the wall.

Eggsy's body stiffened against Harry's. The both of them were immediately on alert, hearts racing as they stilled and stayed quiet. God knows what would happen if they were literally caught with their pants down.

“Giroud needs to get his fucking act together! I can’t believe he missed two easy goals.” The men talked.

Harry waited a few seconds as he assessed the situation.

“That was such a shit game. If they keep this up they’re not going to make it to the championships.” Their words slurred and they belched distastefully. It was clear that the men were piss drunk and in no way, shape, or form any bit aware of their surroundings.

Harry smiled and decided to ignore them. He tightened his fist and started jerking Eggsy off again, slow and tentative at first when he realized that Eggsy was still stiff in his hand, throbbing and aching to come. The young man's head snapped up and his eyes widened when he realized what Harry was doing. Eggsy shook his head more out of disbelief than rejection as his hips rocked forward, urging Harry to go faster. Harry's hand moved efficiently, with purpose until Eggsy bit down hard on his lower lip, but a small pleasurable moan, low in his throat, came out anyway.

Quickly, Harry slapped his free hand over the boy's mouth to muffle any other sounds that might escape. He could feel the softness and dampness of Eggsy's lips against his palm, quick and shallow breaths brushing against his fingers. Wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder, desperate to cling onto something, Eggsy strained against him and his eyes narrowed as he was about to drop over a precipice. All of it happened within a few minutes as the men were still outside the stall obliviously washing their hands. Eggsy stared back Harry, pupils liquid black in the gorgeous green of his eyes, as he suddenly shuddered with jerky movements of his hips, fucking Harry's hand desperately. The men outside were none the wiser when Eggsy's orgasm hit him, one hot spurt after another slicking Harry's palm.

The men left right as Eggsy gave one last shudder and sighed into the hand muffling his moans. When Harry let go, Eggsy had a dazed look in his eyes as he leaned against the wall and panted, allowing Harry to wipe their hands with the toilet paper in the stall. Reeling from his orgasm, Eggsy smiled with content, looking like he about to melt into a puddle then and there as Harry buttoned himself up and reached over to tuck Eggsy in as well.

When they shared another kiss, Eggsy’s lips were soft and pliant, moving slow and drowsy. The kiss, this time around, was much more gentle and meant to soothe their lips rubbed raw from their previous kisses.

"That was nice," Eggsy mumbled against Harry's lips. He was sighing into Harry's mouth like his head was still in the clouds.

"It was," Harry agreed. His own body was humming, happy with the oxytocin that came from his rush of an orgasm. It was exactly what he had needed tonight.

"I don't usually kiss on the first date, you know," Eggsy said.

Harry smiled in between their lazy kisses. "Was it a date?"

"You did buy me a drink after all."

Harry chuckled, feeling Eggsy's own smile against his lips. The boy had an innate ability to make him smile with his outlandish and provoking words. Harry even found Eggsy’s awful accent endearing. Maybe his brain was still addled with bliss, but in that moment, Harry couldn’t help but want to keep this one around a little longer.

Sighing, Eggsy reluctantly pulled away from Harry and reached down for his snapback. His nose wrinkled as he tried to decide if it was worth putting on after sitting on the grimy floor for so long. The motion of leaning down caused Eggsy's necklace to slip out from under his shirt and Harry froze when the glint of it caught his eye. He recognized the shape of it immediately and a sense of dread overcame him, quickly washing away the pleasant buzz that was flowing through his system.

"Eggsy," Harry said.

"Hmm?" Eggsy decided to tuck his cap away in his jacket pocket.

"Where did you get that medal?"

Eggsy reached up to cover the Kingsman medal protectively in a loose fist before tucking it back into his shirt.

"What, this? I've had it since I was little." He frowned in confusion at Harry, unsure of what brought up the topic. They stared at each other for a second and Harry could practically see the gears turning in Eggsy's head. The man's sea green eyes widened a fraction and he opened his mouth to say something when a loud, obnoxious ringtone of some underground hip-hop duo blared from Eggsy's phone and startled the both of them

"Shit." Whatever Eggsy was about to say was quickly forgotten as the young man fished out his phone, checked the screen, and turned off the ringer. "I gotta run. My mates are gonna kill me." He straightened up quickly, making sure his outfit was decently put together again. "I have to go," he said apologetically.

"Eggsy-" Harry couldn't just let the boy run off now, not when there were a million questions racing through his mind.

"I really gotta go."

Harry reached out, but Eggsy grabbed his wrist gently to stop him. Eggsy got on his toes and planted a quick kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth before unlocking the stall door and stepping out. "I had fun though… maybe we should do this again sometime."

And then Eggsy scampered off to god knows where, leaving a stupefied Harry in his wake.

God damn Merlin and his bloody damn bad ideas.