Archive of Our Own

Eggsy doesn’t know how long he spent running, only knows he managed to get all the way from Harry’s house past the surrounding neighborhoods, stepping through the puddles in his bare, frozen feet, hugging himself tightly against the cold.

He avoids people’s attention, remaining unnoticed as he slips like a stray dog through couples huddled under umbrellas and passing cars parked at red lights.

He’s sniffling by the time he comes to Hyde Park and gives up walking, the cold of the rain numbing his skin.

Deciding that it’s better to sit than to stand in the pouring rain, Eggsy stumbles over to a bench, slouching forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s stranded in his own empty world; no other passerby strolls along as the rain patters down harder, and the quick, deep rumble of thunder rises over the trees.

Grey and wet as he is, he blends easily into the rainy world, hugging his knees. His tears are hot on his chilled skin.

He should have kept running.

Without the adrenaline of his haste, everything hurts. The cut above his eye from his last mission aches and stings, his limbs are frozen and throbbing, and his feet are killing him.

His heart feels like glass shards in his ribs; it’s so hard to breathe, and he’s crying so hard his shoulders rock.

He tries to blur out the sensation of the rain chilling his skin. But thinking about the rain is better than thinking about Harry.

Harry.

He makes a tiny, wrecked noise and cups his face in his hands, curling in on himself, dragging his toes against the concrete. He cries so long that his face hurts and his eyes are tired and stinging, and he drops his hands back between his knees and lets the rain wash the heat from his skin.

It could be minutes, it could be hours, the sky still a rolling mass of grey wet that tells Eggsy nothing. All Eggsy knows is that if he sits here long enough, he’ll get so cold and so numb that nothing will hurt.

It’s not the first time he’s run out in the rain, but it hurts the most, that’s for fucking sure. He remembers with a shudder the sting of a cut under his eye, the ache in his throat from holding back tears. He remembers the screaming, the sudden need to run and run. But now, he’s more afraid of going home and seeing Harry’s face than he ever was of getting hit by Dean.

Any physical pain he’s felt in the past would be better than the crippling ache Eggsy feels in his chest.

Anything but this.

Eggsy thinks he can hear Harry’s voice, thinks that, above the rain and his still-pounding heart, he can hear a familiar voice calling for him.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But then again, he has to be sleeping, ‘cause there’s no way—

“Eggsy!” Harry’s voice calls again, and Eggsy opens his eyes. Raindrops flood across his face and blur his vision, and he lifts his head and blinks them away, turning to look around.

His hair drips in his face, and the world beyond him is a void of black silhouetted trees and stone figures, cold and dreary and water-stained by the deluge.

Eggsy sniffles, curls his numb, bare toes, and then drops his head back against his chest, watching the water drip off his fingertips.

Harry’s not coming.

Harry’s not here.

“Eggsy, please. I’m here; where are you?” Harry’s voice breaks, and Eggsy’s head snaps up again, tendrils of hair slicking wildly across his face.

Once again, nothing and no one.

Eggsy is completely alone.

He lifts one hand and scrubs his against his drenched face, and if he thought he was mental before, he’s certainly lost it now.

It’s one thing to have night terrors of Harry’s voice in impossible situations, but now—

“Eggsy…” Harry says again, his voice much softer, much closer.

Eggsy drops his hand, ready to tell the universe and whatever shreds of his sanity he has left to fuck the hell off.

But there Harry is.

Eggsy blinks a few times, the rain flooding his eyes, and his mouth falls open on a soundless whimper.

There Harry is. Not ten feet from him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The events of the morning come crashing back to him, and Eggsy realizes... he’s ruined it.

He ruined waking up in Harry’s arms, kisses pressed to his hair. He ruined Harry’s gentle hands treating him like something to be treasured, like something dangerous and powerful, all at once. He ruined being Excalibur, being a knight worthy of standing beside Harry before all others, having his trust above all others, and giving him his loyalty against all others. He’s lost Harry. He’s lost his love.

Fuck, Eggsy thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Absolutely ruined.

**

There was a satisfying warmth within Eggsy when he woke, despite being alone. The mattress was still warm, and the duvet on his bare torso tickled and slid when he began to stir into awareness. The previous night rested on him: every bruise tender, his lips still tingling.

Reaching up, he tugged on the pendant around his neck and tried to organise his thoughts. He was still in the aftermath, still caught in the glow, even hours after Harry’s kisses had left his skin and his heart had slowed.

Eggsy didn’t care what time it was. He brushed his fingers against his pulse, over his shoulder, feeling the ache of bite marks in his flesh. Harry had created new, sweeter bruises for Eggsy to think about in place of the ones he’d come home with late in the night. He felt the sting of his cut eyebrow against the soft cotton of his pillowcase, and the tight pull in his bruised muscles from his latest mission.

Eggsy yawned, looking over at the window on the far wall.

The time of year meant endless rain, and the world beyond the windows was grey and cool and docile. When Eggsy listened carefully, he could hear it on the roof.

He ran his hands over the duvet top, arched his back against the sheets, and inhaled the spice of Harry’s cologne, the shared salty musk of their sweat, and the absolute, incomparable warmth of the bed. He grinned broadly and rolled back over onto his stomach, burying his face into Harry’s pillow as he tucked it under his arm to crush it close.

When Eggsy finally got the energy to climb out of bed, he tossed on a dark grey shirt—not his, thank you—and padded down the stairs, raking his fingers through his hair.

Harry was at the small table by the window, already wearing a white dress shirt unbuttoned to flash his collar bones, eyepatch pristine beneath his glasses as he ran his gaze over The Times.

Despite Harry being dressed and his hair combed, he still looked so soft, still the man Eggsy saw when no one else was looking. It’s something he couldn’t exactly put his finger on, the heavy warmth that settled in his chest whenever he saw this side of Harry.

It’s not just that he knew Harry wore marks from Eggsy’s nails on his shoulders, or had bruises on the small of his back from Eggsy’s heels. It’s not that Harry’s mouth was more plush this morning from being bitten and from biting, or that the same hands that had dug bruises into Eggsy’s skin looked gentle just then.

It’s that Eggsy woke up and came downstairs to find Harry waiting for him, and that he knew he would always find Harry.

Harry glanced up at him, a smile pressing his mouth. “Good morning, Eggsy,” he greeted warmly, and Eggsy leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “Sleep well, darling?”

Eggsy was still too tired to talk this morning, so he nodded and pushed off the wall to go to Harry’s side.

“Good,” Harry smiled, setting the paper down in favour of wrapping his arm around Eggsy’s waist. Eggsy set his hands on Harry’s shoulders and kissed his hair, inhaling the smooth, spicy scent of Harry’s shampoo and pomade.

Harry kissed his stomach through his shirt, as it was at the perfect height for kissing, and Eggsy made a pleased sound. “Go on and eat something. Can’t have you running about on an empty stomach.”

Another sound of contentment emerged from Eggsy’s throat, but he stayed right where he was, hugging Harry to him, carding his fingers through his hair to rustle the scent of Harry beneath the soap. Harry’s breath was warm on his stomach, his knuckles stroking lazily at his side where his arm was still wrapped around Eggsy’s hips.

“Eggsy,” Harry said again, more firmly, and Eggsy groaned half-heartedly and kissed Harry’s head before releasing him.

Eggsy rubbed his eyes and went over to the bread box and pulled out a loaf. “Good morning,” he mumbled, sleep making his voice rough and soft.

Harry smiled broadly, lifting his gold trimmed teacup for a sip. “He speaks.”

Eggsy nodded his head, laughing. He yawned, popping two pieces of white bread into the toaster.

“I really wish you’d stop eating that unhealthy rubbish, love,” Harry said. “Brown bread is much better for you.”

Eggsy shrugged drowsily. It’s one of those things Harry couldn’t sway him on. He reached up and scratched at the tag prickling the back of his neck with one hand, the other opening a cabinet door in search of a mug for tea.

“Oh, I already made your tea for you, darling. It’s in the pot, just have to pour it,” Harry told him quietly, setting his teacup down on its saucer without taking his eyes away from the paper in front of him.

“Hn. Thanks, Daddy,” Eggsy replied with a tired, absent smile as he opened the cabinet. He pulled out his favourite mug, filled it with steaming tea, then set it aside.

When Eggsy turned around and saw the look of shock that had overtaken Harry’s usually warm, welcoming expression, Eggsy’s brain screeched to a halt. The words that had fallen from his mouth burned up his throat, and Eggsy couldn’t breathe.

Eggsy thought he might die.

Might already be dead.

He felt cold; so cold that his body hurt.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

Eggsy’s eyes were wide with fear, his entire body motionless.

But Harry was wearing the same face.

His mouth had fallen open, brows shot up into his hairline, his gaze burning right through Eggsy.

And that word beat up against his throat with every press of his pulse, his skin feeling too tight for his bones and his brain going static, sole focus on that word.

Daddy.

He had called Harry fucking Hart his Daddy.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fuck, Eggsy couldn’t breathe.

No, wait.

He was breathing.

He was dragging in short, desperate puffs of air, hyperventilating.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Eggsy?” Harry said quietly, the nervous tremor in his right hand causing his fingers to flutter across the dining table.

Harry had to hate him. He was disgusted, horrified; he had to be.

Eggsy called the man he’s in love with, worse than that, his boss, and the man he’s been fucking for several months, his fucking Daddy. Who wouldn’t be positively revolted?

A breath stopped up in his throat, and then he was crying.

Fat, burning hot tears cut down one cheek, then the other, and Eggsy’s lungs constricted. He didn’t make a sound, couldn’t find the strength to even utter a sob. But his tears didn’t stop—just flowed steady and strong from his stinging eyes. He flinched, and tea sloshed over the rim of his cup.

Harry’s eye went impossibly wide as Eggsy’s tears dripped off his chin.

“Eggsy—” Harry started.

But Eggsy couldn’t.

He fucking couldn’t.

He whipped away, slipped in the puddle of his tea, and bolted for the front door. He stumbled into it, catching himself on the hard frame as he unlatched the deadbolt and twisted free before he ripped the door open so hard it hit the wall with resonating force.

Then Eggsy took off into the grey of the rain, charging across the smooth stone pathway at full speed. If Harry called for him, he didn’t hear it over the rain pounding on rooftops, on his skin, over the hammering of his heart.

**

Eggsy is brought back to the present by Harry’s voice saying his name again, warm against the cold of the rain. It’s so, so cold suddenly, and Eggsy hugs himself tighter as he looks up.

Harry’s panting, his hair a dishevelled, soaked mess, his dress shirt stuck to the contours of his torso, and he’s looking at Eggsy like he’s ready to cry.

Eggsy hiccups, staring up at Harry through the rain.

Why is he looking at him like that?

Eggsy swallows around the knot in his throat, sits up a bit straighter, and Harry’s shoulders drop and his brows pinch up. He reaches up and sweeps his hair back from his face, taking a minute step closer to Eggsy.

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry whispers, and the sound of his voice makes Eggsy squeeze his eyes shut, a shuddering breath falling from his lips.

Eggsy tries to say something, tries to apologise, but he’s startled by the sudden warmth of Harry’s hands cupping his face, tilting his head up. Eggsy jolts, lips parting as Harry kneels down in front of him, staring up at him with desperation and terrifying agony.

“What were you thinking? Running off like that—and with bare feet, no less.” Harry sighs heavily, brushing his thumbs across Eggsy’s cheekbones. “My god, you’re impossible.”

Eggsy gulps in a breath, nearly chokes on it trying to keep it from turning into a sob. “Harry, I’m so—”

He’s cut off by Harry’s mouth, warm and soft and sweet, pressing against his for a feather-light kiss.

Harry pulls back, sighs warmly against Eggsy’s lips, and presses their foreheads together. “I was so worried about you. My darling boy, Daddy was so worried,” Harry murmurs, and he cups Eggsy’s neck with one hand, curls his other hand into his hair, and kisses him again.

When Harry pulls back, sweeping Eggsy’s sopping fringe out of his face, Eggsy licks his lips. “I don’t get it… Harry, what are you doing here? Why’d you come after me?”

“My love, it’s raining. You ran out of the house crying. Why on earth wouldn’t I come after you?”

“Be… because of—shit, Harry, I’m so sorry,” Eggsy groans, lifting his hand to rub the heel against his eye.

“Whatever for, darling?”

And it hurts so fucking much that Harry needs that clarification.

“Cause I fuckin’—” but Eggsy’s thought dies, because, “...what did you just say?” he whispers.

“Which part?” Harry says softly, brushing his thumb across Eggsy’s lips, and Eggsy’s hand whips up and catches his wrist.

“Harry.”

Harry’s smile is so soft, so small it’s hardly there at all. But Eggsy sees it, and it makes his eyes burn and his throat close up all over again.

“I said, Daddy was worried about you,” Harry clarifies, kneeling up to press a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead.

Eggsy puts his hand against Harry’s chest and shoves him back.

“Don’t fucking do this, Harry,” he says brokenly, scooting back as far as he can on the bench, trying hard to put empty space between Harry and himself.

Harry’s brows pinch and his mouth sets into a frown. “Darling, I don’t—”

Eggsy pushes him back again, harder this time, and Harry looks genuinely startled. “Christ, Harry, don’t fuck with me right now. That’s so fucking sick.”

“Eggsy, what on earth—”

“You can’t be fucking serious right now, Harry. Why are you here, really? Is it more of that ‘you’re responsible for me’ shite? ‘Cause I could really do without it right now. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

He has no idea what his next plan is, but when he tries to stand, not only is he frigid and so numb that he stumbles shakily, but Harry is suddenly standing over him, hands on his shoulders, and he shoves Eggsy back against the park bench and gives him a terrifying, no-nonsense glare.

“Eggsy Unwin, if you ever, ever tell me to leave your side, ever again, you will be bloody sorry you did. I told you long ago when we began this, if you wanted to end it, you’d have to kill me…” Harry’s stare leaves no room for argument. His voice is strong and low, and it leaves Eggsy stunned. “Are you going to kill me, Eggsy?” he whispers.

Eggsy shakes his head, dumbfounded, because the thought of killing Harry undoes him. He would die without Harry. Without question. He could never raise a hand to hurt this man whom he loves, who has claimed him so completely.

Harry nods. “Good. Now explain to me why you are so upset,” Harry says evenly, his hands squeezing Eggsy’s shoulders. Eggsy reaches up and grabs his wrists in a bruising grip.

Everything bubbles up in his chest violently, burning the back of his throat. Tears sting Eggsy’s eyes as he struggles with words.

And Eggsy snaps.

“‘Cause I’m fuckin’ sick, Harry! I’m fucked in the head, and I don’t need you lookin’ at me like I’m fuckin’ nauseating! And I am! I’m disgusting, Harry. There’s somethin’ so fuckin’ wrong with me. It hurts too much, Harry. I’m so sorry—I shoulda never—”

Harry shushes him with a series of head shakes and soft noises. “My sweet, precious boy. Why would you ever say something like that?”

And, Christ, if Harry needs it spelled out, Eggsy will do it for him.

“I called you fucking Daddy,” he snaps, and now he’s crying again, unless he never stopped. But this time, his sobs make noise, and he’s being drawn into Harry’s chest before he has time to think about it. “I’m so sorry, Harry. There’s somethin’ wrong with me. I’m so fucked up. I’m disgusting… That’s so fuckin’ sick. I can’t even—I can’t believe I called you that, fuckin’ Christ.”

He sobs against Harry’s chest and tries to enjoy being wrapped in his arms and pressed to his warmth for what may very well be the last time.

“My sweet boy, I do believe you’re overreacting,” Harry whispers against his hair before he kisses the top of Eggsy’s head. “Do I seem that upset to you?”

Eggsy yanks himself back, but he so desperately doesn’t want to see if Harry’s upset.

Harry looks so soft: so open and light, a glorious, blazing sun in the dimness of the rainy world. He smiles down at Eggsy, curling his fingers under his chin and tipping his face up so softly.

“But… Harry, it’s so fuckin’ wrong,” Eggsy whimpers.

But Harry just smiles a little wider, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Eggsy. Do you understand me? Not a single thing. My perfect boy,” Harry says warmly, and he leans forward to brush his lips across Eggsy’s forehead, kissing the bruised cut on his eyebrow and down across his cheekbones.

“Harry—”

“I’ll not hear another word on the matter until we get home. You’re soaked to the bone, and I’m not much better off,” Harry tells him, and Eggsy swallows.

Of course. Responsibility.

“And Eggsy, this has nothing to do with me being responsible for you. Though you are mine to care for, it is my absolute pleasure to look after you, and I’m doing this for myself as much as for you,” Harry says before kissing Eggsy again. His mouth is so warm, and his hands are gentle on Eggsy’s skin. He crowds into Eggsy’s space with his broad chest and his wide shoulders.

“Harry, don’t, I can’t,” he insists, trying and failing to push Harry away again.

“Eggsy,” Harry says firmly, and his voice is demanding, leaving no room for argument, his gaze just as fierce as he pins Eggsy to the bench with the heat of it. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not sick, and I’m not upset. Let me take care of you, and we can talk more about this once the threat of pneumonia has passed. Please?”

If this is the last time, let it be something Eggsy can hold on to. Let him have every touch, every smile, every breath, every second he can before it’s all ripped from his arms.

He sniffles, grips onto the drenched fabric of Harry’s dress shirt and lets gravity bring his heart back into Harry’s hands, to hold just for a minute longer.

Just one minute more. “Yes, Harry…”

**

Harry catches them a taxi at the edge of the park, not removing his arm from around Eggsy’s waist. Eggsy wishes he could say he was fine and wriggle out of Harry’s grip.

But he’s really not. In fact, were Harry’s arm anywhere else, he would have long fallen to the ground and become one with the puddles. He’s so cold, huddled into Harry’s side all the way from the bench to the gates, and when they climb into the taxi, Harry still doesn’t weaken his hold.

They don’t say a single word in the backseat of the cab. Eggsy is nearly in Harry’s lap; Harry’s arms are wrapped around his slim waist, face buried into the damp of Eggsy’s hair.

And Eggsy doesn’t have the heart to think of pulling away, can’t even feel sick enough with himself to remove his face from the curve of Harry’s neck, can’t get his hands to release Harry’s shirt. He just wants to lean into Harry’s chest and never move again.

He’s a tad curious about why Harry is just as soaking wet as he is, why he didn’t leave the house with at least his umbrella. His oxfords are totally ruined, Eggsy’s sure, and the shirt he’s wearing is at least two hundred quid. He’s a dishevelled mess when they make it back to the house, Harry ushering Eggsy into the entryway where he stands soaking wet, unsure of what’s supposed to happen next.

Harry closes the door with a sigh, locking the latch and carding his fingers through his damp hair before he straightens his glasses. “Well, now,” he says quietly, and his voice trails off as if he’s forgotten what he was going to say next.

Eggsy grinds his teeth to keep them from chattering, and his hair is dripping, his clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably from the rain.

The quiet in the house swells, filling Eggsy’s ears with a loud, clear ringing. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on what it feels like to breathe.

Then Harry’s hands are lightly touching his elbows, the warmth of Harry’s chest pressing to his back, and Eggsy completely forgets what breathing feels like.

Harry’s breath feels like dry summer on the back of his neck, raising shivers across Eggsy’s skin, and it’s not his fault that his instinct is to lean backwards into Harry’s touch, to drop his head back against Harry’s shoulder and relish his touch without thought. He tries to pull himself away, really he does, but Harry’s hands run down his arms to his wrists, effectively cradling and caging him, and Eggsy releases a heavy rush of breath.

“You’re soaking wet,” Harry says, brushing his nose against the bare nape of Eggsy’s neck.

Eggsy sucks his lip between his teeth and lets out a heavy breath through his nose. “Nn-hn,” he mumbles.

“Hm. We’d best remedy that,” Harry says, kissing the top of Eggsy’s spine, and Eggsy sighs shakily. Harry toes out of his shoes, and Eggsy stares at how wetness pools around the fine leather. “Come along, darling,” Harry says, and he ushers Eggsy towards the stairs, still holding him safely in his arms. When they reach the stairs, regrettably, Harry has to release Eggsy from the safe cage of his arms in favour of leading them up the stairs safely. But he takes great care to keep a hand on Eggsy at all times.

They walk through the bedroom, and Eggsy steals a glance at the bed.

He remembers the last time he woke up in this bed, how he was so happy, so content, and filled with light and love.

He tears his eyes away from the rumpled duvet on what used to be his side of the bed and chokes back a sound as Harry leads him into the bathroom and leaves him standing by the sink.

Harry starts rolling one sleeve up, then laughs at himself quietly, turning to give Eggsy a sun-warm smile before he undoes his cuff-links and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

Eggsy turns away, hugging himself as he sniffles, shaking raindrops from his hair as he watches Harry lean into the shower to turn on the faucet. The spray of water startles Eggsy for a brief moment, and he hugs himself tighter as Harry fusses with the knobs and waits for steam.

“There now, nice and warm,” Harry says triumphantly, turning his attention back to Eggsy. “Let’s get you warmed up, darling,” he says, reaching out to brush his hand against Eggsy’s cheek.

He tips his face down away from the contact, shaking his head.

Harry frowns. “Eggsy,” he whispers, curling his fingers under his chin and tilting his face up. “Stop this nonsense.”

“Harry—”

Gentle hands grip his hips, pulling him flush to Harry’s front, and Eggsy closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look up at Harry’s face.

“I’m right here, darling,” Harry breathes, his lips a teasing touch against Eggsy’s, his hands uncrossing Eggsy’s arms gently. “I’m here.”

Eggsy’s knees tremble and his arms fall open willingly. The next thing he knows is Harry’s scorching touch brushing across his bare waist and then up his sides as he takes the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Eggsy complies, lifting his arms and letting the shirt slide up his torso and over his head for Harry to drop it on the floor at their feet.

Eggsy’s arms fly back down and he crosses them over his chest, his face turning seven different shades of red as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“Come now, darling; it’s nothing I’ve not seen before,” Harry laughs softly, taking Eggsy in his arms and holding him close. “Though I’ll never grow tired of the view,” he says, and then, for good measure, kisses his way across one of Eggsy’s freckled shoulders, down his collar bone, back up the hollow of his throat.

Eggsy shivers and chokes out tiny gasps at the contact, hating himself for being so weak, hating Harry for making him this way.

"Harry don't," he whispers.

Harry hums quietly, a soothing sound, and continues to kiss along Eggsy's bare, chilled skin. "Don't tell me you're going to start denying me this soul-tempting pleasure, Eggsy," he scolds quietly, hands bracketing Eggsy's hips. "I would die if I could not touch your skin, if I couldn't taste your mouth."

Harry leans back enough to claim Eggsy's mouth again, one hand riding up his waist and ribs to cup the side of his neck. The touch leaves Eggsy trembling, and a wounded sound escapes his throat.

Harry breaks the kiss to press his parted lips to the beauty mark on Eggsy's neck.

And it's like Harry's secret weapon as he whispers, "Darling," against that spot.

Eggsy whimpers and throws his arms around Harry, crushing their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

Harry returns his urgency, albeit with more care and grace, and Eggsy doesn't even realise his trackies have been dropped until Harry is lifting him under the arms for him to step out of them.

He's naked and shivering against the firm line of Harry's body, wanting to arch away from the frigid dampness of Harry's clothes, but determined to press into Harry and taste the warmth beneath.

His hands fly up to Harry's buttons, tearing his shirt open deftly before Harry's releasing him to tug open his own fly.

Eggsy groans and tries to drop to his knees, startled into whining when Harry halts him firmly and kisses him soundly.

"Eggsy, slow. Slow," he whispers, and Eggsy feels something so simple is suddenly impossible.

He's losing Harry—he knows it. He knows there's no way he can fix this now, but he'll be damned if he doesn't go down without a fight to feel Harry's hands and teeth all over him one last time.

He bites at Harry's mouth callously and Harry growls against his lips.

Eggsy nearly yelps when he's suddenly tucked into the shower

Harry's body presses against his beneath the spray, his hands and arms caging Eggsy against the wall. It makes him feel vulnerable, crushed, and inexplicably free.

"I'm sorry," he whispers shallowly, as Harry kisses along his jaw and neck.

"I'm sorry," he pants as Harry turns him around, pressing his chest and cheek to the tiles with his back to Harry's chest.

"I love you," he gasps brokenly when Harry's body slides against his and a hand curls around his cock.

"I love you, Eggsy," Harry replies gently, kissing Eggsy's shoulder under the spray of hot water. "Don't cry; don’t apologise."

Eggsy shakes his head, rivulets of water running down his face, his hands palming at the slippery wall as his hips fuck into Harry's hand of their own accord. “Don't. Don't tou—ahn! Harry, don't touch me. Don't do this—please stop.”

He's still crying, but he pants open-mouthed and moans as Harry kisses his neck and palms his hip and keeps stroking him as he shakes.

“Darling, please,” Harry breathes, voice soft and broken as he presses against Eggsy, pushing him against the shower wall.

Eggsy chokes.

“I love you,” Harry says again. “I love you, and I'll never leave you. You're safe here. You're safe with me. Don't be afraid, Eggsy.”

Eggsy whines and bucks his arse back against Harry's hard cock, arches back away from the wall to get all of Harry's front pressed tight and wet against his back. But Harry’s having none of that, and he crushes Eggsy right back against the shower wall, his elbows buckling before his hands slip and scramble up the tiles over his head.

Eggsy pants, the hand on his hip sliding up his wet side to clutch over his heart. Harry could dig his fingers in, tear Eggsy’s heart out, and crush it for all Eggsy cares.

“Say it again, Eggsy. It's alright; let go. I'll catch you. Just say it.”

Harry's voice is desperate and gentle, and Eggsy knows exactly what Harry wants.

He's terrified.

But the burning heat twisted in his stomach and the sure, molten pressure in his chest caused by Harry's touch tells him he shouldn't be.

He's safe.

He's loved.

He has Harry…

Eggsy cries out when Harry's hand stills, fingers curling tight at the base of his cock, preventing any further waves of pleasure from cresting.

“Say it, Eggsy. You’re always such a good boy for me—my good boy,” Harry husks, breath hot on Eggsy’s jaw.

Eggsy’s lost. Completely and totally gone.

His throat tightens, and he gasps against the wet tiles, water rushing over his face, Harry’s body the only thing holding him to this earth.

Harry bites his shoulder, the hand over his chest sliding up to his throat. Harry tilts Eggsy’s face towards him, kissing the corner of his mouth. Eggsy makes a pathetic sound, a noise caught in his throat, strangled and high.

Harry smiles against the corner of his mouth, slides his hand up Eggsy’s cock to thumb at his slit. “Come now; be a good boy for Daddy,” he whispers, and Eggsy’s eyes snap wide open.

His mouth falls agape, his entire body recoiling from the sound of that word on Harry’s lips like the kickback from a gunshot.

And Eggsy comes.

The noise he makes is whiny and desperate and sharp as it tears itself from his throat. He claws the shower tiles, entire body spasming as his hips reflexively thrust forward into Harry’s maddening grip.

And all the while, Harry’s whispering, murmuring, praising, “Good boy. That’s it. My good boy.”

Eggsy thinks he may be openly sobbing, his every muscle gone soft and useless from the biting ache left over from such an intense reaction. All the chemicals are mixed up, all the signals raw and hot, and Eggsy’s knees give out as he presses his face to the tiles and watches the mess of his come get rinsed away.

Harry’s holding him up effortlessly, crushing Eggsy to his chest with his strong arms.

The world is just a steamy shower stall with a glass door and grey coloured tiles. The only sound is the patter of water, that endless hushing sound so gentle and warm.

Eggsy is gasping and gulping down lungfuls of air, chest heaving and body shaking.

Meanwhile, Harry kisses the spattering of freckles on his shoulder blade, brushing up against Eggsy close and hot.

“Eggsy…” He whispers, and Eggsy feels it.

Harry is shaking, too. He's breathing shallow and fast, and… Christ, his cock is hard. So fucking hard. If not for the constant stream of water cascading over them, Eggsy is sure he would be able to feel slick leaking from the head.

Eggsy moans, trembling like a brittle leaf as Harry ruts up against the slick space between his arse cheeks.

“Eggsy,” Harry gasps again, burying his face into the crook of Eggsy’s shoulder and neck.

Eggsy leans back, stares up at the ceiling, water spraying his lips and his jaw. He reaches a hand back from the tiles, curling his fingers into the thick, soaked mop of Harry’s hair. He pulls, jaw dropping open as he tries to catch his breath.

Harry groans hotly against him.

And Eggsy breaks. “Daddy,” he whimpers.

The noise Harry makes sounds like it’s been punched from him, and he grips Eggsy’s throat tightly, pumps his cock again, and then Harry’s coming all over Eggsy’s arse.

They stay like that for a long while, breathing heavily, and that word holds them together.

**

A half hour later, Eggsy doesn't feel like crying anymore, but he feels wrung out and sore.

Harry had dried him, dressed him, then made him a cup of tea so he could clean the mess in the kitchen.

It makes Eggsy flinch, remembering he how broke his lovely blue mug in reflexive fear.

But after the shower, after Harry coming for him at all… he feels less awful. He feels less… lost.

Eggsy's curled up on the plush sofa in the living room, a cup of tea steaming between his hands. He's wearing one of Harry's pyjama shirts, loose and warm hanging off of his shoulder. Beneath the blanket folded in his lap, he's just in his briefs, but he's warm.

Harry comes around the back of the settee, petting Eggsy's hair and kissing the top of his head before he sits at the other end.

Without the blanket, Eggsy would feel naked in contrast to Harry. Rather than dressing in sleep clothes, Harry’s buttoned himself into a white dress shirt and grey trousers, looking too much like a gentleman for Eggsy to handle.

There's a huge gap between them, measured in an entire sofa cushion.

JB looks up from his place on his dog bed, ears pricking up before he snorts wetly.

It's the only sound in the room before Harry speaks.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he says gently.

Eggsy presses his lips to his cup and pretends to drink just so he doesn’t have to speak.

Harry sighs. “I suppose what I meant to say was, it’s time to talk about this.”

Then Eggsy does take a drink.

Harry’s expression pinches and he tilts his head back as he sighs. “Eggsy Unwin.”

“What is there to say?” Eggsy snaps.

Harry reaches across the cushion to touch Eggsy’s knee. “There’s plenty to say.”

Eggsy takes his lip between his teeth and bites hard.

Harry looks suddenly overwhelmed with worry, leaning forward with his pupil blown and his lips parted. “Enough of that, Eggsy.” He cups Eggsy’s cheek, brushes his thumb across his lips to get them to part. They’re already red, the skin warm under Harry’s touch. “You know you can talk to me. About anything. Everything. This didn’t just come from nowhere.”

Eggsy leans into the touch, closes his eyes.

“This is different…”

“Explain to me how,” Harry insists.

Eggsy’s brows furrow, his stomach clenching.

“Because if it's about a kink you have, please, don't be afraid to share,” Harry says with a smile. “I'm more than happy to do anything to satisfy you. So if that's what you're worried about, darling, you needn't fret anymore.”

Eggsy's brows arch up and he feels a bit confounded. “Huh?”

“I will do whatever it takes to keep up with you in the bedroom, Eggsy. And if this is something you're interested in exploring further, I'm happy to take part. It doesn't have to mean anything more than a name,” Harry says easily. “But something tells me that this means more.” Harry meets his gaze. “It's not quite so simple when I call you my good boy.”

Eggsy shudders.

“It's not… it's definitely not,” Eggsy manages to say, forcing words past the tightness of his airway, the pressure in his chest.

It's quiet between them, but the world outside breathes. The rain is still hitting the roof, dripping off the windowsills into puddles, and Eggsy feels less alone.

“Eggsy…” Harry finally says, brushing his thumb against the rim of his teacup. “Why did you call me Daddy?” he asks, not an ounce of judgement in his voice or a glimmer of disgust in his gaze.

Eggsy looks up at him, looks him over long and hard before he decides to answer.

“I just… I see you like that,” Eggsy murmurs. “Like a…”

“Like a father figure?”

Eggsy's throat burns. “Like… a daddy.”

“You… can you explain?”

Eggsy lets out a shuddering breath and looks down into his teacup.

“Mum used to say Dad was gonna come back and make everything alright. He was gonna come home and take care of us, he…” Eggsy stops, because they both know how that ended. “Gonna be honest, don't remember too much what he looked like. I just had in my head this idea of a man my mum built up like some kinda prince. Like a hero or summat. She'd say, ‘Your daddy will be home soon, Eggsy, and he'll make everything alright.’ But then she just got… more and more sad. Like she stopped believin’ dad was comin’ at all.”

Harry eye slips shut.

Eggsy shrugs. “But you came instead.”

Harry sits up a bit straighter, and he arches a brow at Eggsy.

“For a long time, it was fuzzy. I was sittin’ in the livin’ room, Mum was cryin’... it felt like the world was endin’. I knew somethin’ was wrong, I knew my dad wasn’t comin’ back… then there you were,” Eggsy mutters. “I guess I kinda…”

Harry's lips part, his hand resting against Eggsy's knee. It's not invasive, not in the least, and the touch is so comforting for Eggsy.

“I thought you was the one. Not my dad—fuck. How do I… I thought you was the one who were gonna come save me and make everything fuckin’ better. I… I thought you was my fuckin’ daddy,” Eggsy rushes out, then presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I thought that word meant someone who would take care of me like… I don’t even know.” He drops his hands in his lap. “I'm such a fuckin’ wanker. How stupid does that sound?”

Harry pats Eggsy's knee and laughs softly. “Darling, there are worse things to think. Don't speak ill of yourself; you're not stupid. You were a child.”

“Yeah, that's excusable then. What about when I saw you again and I thought the same shit?” Eggsy huffs, looking up at Harry with a deep set frown that borders on pouting.

Harry blinks, lips parting softly.

“Took a while to figure it out, for it to make sense. I mean, I was older and I knew who my real dad was, and I knew he weren’t you,” Eggsy clarifies, raking his fringe out of his face.

It's surprising, how easy it is to talk to Harry once he gets going. But it's not like this is small talk in the Black Prince. This still makes him shake, and his whole chest is hot and tight.

“But when I saw you, I remembered Mum sayin’ that my dad was gonna come back and make everythin’ alright. Thought about how she said he was a gentleman. He was gorgeous, kind—Mum said he woulda given us the world…” Eggsy blushes. “That were you, weren’t it?”

Harry reaches up and cups Eggsy's face, bringing their gazes together. “You have yet to explain why you think there's something wrong with you.”

“Because I'm fucked, Harry. I grew up surrounded by fuck-up after fuck-up, like my mum was holdin’ auditions for ‘em in the fuckin’ livin’ room,” Eggsy hugs himself, pulling away from Harry's touch. “They were nice at first, but they just kept gettin’ worse. They were more interested in gettin’ whatever my mum was willin’ to give and then bookin’ it. And then Dean came and he was so fucking nice—” Eggsy halts suddenly.

He can feel the burn of acid at the back of his throat, the sting of tears in his eyes.

“He… he made Mum feel so safe. So loved. And he was nothin’ but polite to me, and I thought… I thought maybe he was there to protect me.” Eggsy realises he's shaking, but he can't stop. “I thought he was gonna be my fuckin’ daddy.”

Harry jerks, and Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut and inhales a watery sob.

“But I was fuckin’ wrong. So fuckin’ wrong. Fuck. He started drinkin’. And it wasn't the kind of drinkin’ that someone picks up outta nowhere. He was always a fuck-up; he just pretended not to be to get his hooks in me mum. It all came crashin’ down on us, and I thought things were bad before...”

When Harry reaches for him, Eggsy slouches back away from him. “First the bossin’ us around, then the yellin’... then the hittin’. I wanted to do somethin’, wanted to protect my mum. I knew Dean weren't the one who was supposed to come save me, he wasn't gonna protect me—but Dad was gone. He was dead, and before I knew it I was doin’ Dean’s drug runs and his goons were allowed to beat on me, too… and then I was old enough to get sent out at night to kneel in alleys and get my hair pulled and get called names by the people that were payin’ for the shit they was accusin’ me of.”

Eggsy takes a shaky breath and he realises he's crying. His face is wet and his chest is heaving.

Harry reaches out and takes Eggsy's teacup from him, setting it aside on the coffee table. His hand twitches as if to wipe Eggsy's tears, but he doesn’t, pulling back and resting his hands on his lap.

“And I tried to run away, Harry. I tried to get away from it when I came of age, but then Mum kept callin’ cryin’ about how the Marines was gonna get me killed. She told me she couldn’t go on if she lost me. And then Daisy came, and I fell head over heels for her and I couldn't leave her alone with that fuckin’ monster.” Eggsy’s hands keep shaking as he wipes up his tears. “After that, it just… I gave up. I didn't think anyone could care about me, didn't think anyone was comin’ to save me. No one was gonna protect me—I had to take care of myself.”

He looks up at Harry, feeling lightning fissures breaking his heart into splintered pieces. Eggsy breathes a watery sob.

“Then you came back for me.”

Harry’s brows furrow, a look of desperation pinching his features. Eggsy wonders if they’re thinking of the same thing: if they’re both back outside the police station washed in sunlight. He wonders if Harry’s train of thought follows his to a small dressing room, gazes locked in a mirror with little space between the warmth of their bodies.

“I know I was a fuckin’ prick. Said some shit in the beginnin’ ‘cause I was angry. Then you turned around and told me you thought I was full of potential and shit, and I just…” Eggsy bites his lip. “I wanted to make you proud. No one had looked at me like that before, never. I wanted to be worth it.”

Harry's heart breaks a little.

“I just, it was all real fuckin’ confusin’. You show up and I feel like I've found somethin’ I lost a long time ago. Then you go and make me all fuckin’ hot and frustrated in the Black Prince, and that were even more confusin’,” Eggsy huffs. “I felt like an idiot—who gets hot under the collar for someone who they should see as a father figure? It's not fuckin’ right.” Eggsy shakes his head. “I thought if I stepped on it long enough I'd forget that I saw you that way: that I thought you’d protect me. If I just focused on how bad I wanted you to get me up against a wall, I'd forget about how I just wanted you to just keep lookin’ at me like I was worth it. And it worked, it worked for so fuckin’ long that I all but blanked out the fact that I wanted you to take care of me. I just… I didn’t get a chance to grow up, ya know? And I’ll never hold it against me mum, or my dad… Or even you. I just…”

Eggsy sighs, shoulders heaving. “I had a lot goin’ on growin’ up. I never had nobody takin’ care of me—I was responsible for my mum, for Daisy… I weren’t never a kid. Everybody left me behind.” Eggsy shivers as he sobs again, and he scrubs the heel of his palm against his eye.

“And after Kentucky, when you came back, after all that bullshit, I… I fell so in love with you I couldn't stand it. And I couldn't believe you wanted me too—that you loved me back,” Eggsy says. He knows he's rambling, knows he's saying some incredibly embarrassing things. But the dam has broken and he can't shut up.

“I'm so in love with you, Harry. I didn't mean to ruin it. I just ain't never meant anythin’ to anyone the way… the way you've made me feel like I mean somethin’. And to ask for more, to think for even a second that I needed anything else that you ain't already given me…” Eggsy presses his hands over his eyes and fights down a scream. “It's so selfish. It ain't right.

“Fuck, Harry, I just wanted to make you proud. I didn't want… I never…”

Harry smiles, a broken, fleeting thing, and scoots closer to Eggsy on the couch. Finally.

“And that you have,” he breathes. “You passed all the Kingsman tests with flying colours, aside from that one.”

He tips his head at JB, and the pug’s ear quirks up.

Eggsy laughs wetly.

“And that was an even greater test—the test of loyalty you seemed to see in a different light. Instead of duty, you chose love. And for that, I am even more proud than I would have been had you passed.”

Eggsy drops his head onto Harry's shoulder.

“You held yourself together after Kentucky. You went into the heart of the fight and made Kingsman proud—you saved the world,” Harry says, petting Eggsy's hair softly. “You've done excellently as a Knight of the Round Table. You've exceeded the expectations placed upon you by your peers and have even helped them grow. You, my Excalibur, have made me completely and utterly proud. Beyond proud; the word is not enough. But I’m even more proud of you—my Eggsy Unwin.”

And fuck him, Eggsy is crying again.

“I'm sorry I did not save you sooner. It pains me every day, I promise you. All the times I've caused you pain… it's inexcusable. I will spend every moment of the rest of my life making it up to you,” Harry sighs, kissing the top of Eggsy's head. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” Eggsy chokes, fisting his hand in Harry’s shirt.

“Eggsy, listen to me very carefully,” Harry says, and he pushes Eggsy back and curls his fingers under Eggsy's chin. Eggsy looks at him, even though he doesn't want to.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be taken care of.”

At that, Eggsy looks up.

Harry is looking at him so warmly, with so much love, that when Harry curves his hand around Eggsy's face, Eggsy all but collapses into it.

“I'm here to take care of you now. So tell me, what's wrong with admitting that you want that?” Harry says softly, pulling Eggsy closer so he can press his lips to the crown of Eggsy's head.

Eggsy pushes away. “It ain't about wantin’ that. It's about the way I've thought about it. Harry, you're my boyfriend. That's more than I shoulda got.”

“There's nothing wrong with asking for more,” Harry says, cupping Eggsy's cheeks. “I will give you anything you want. Anything you need, you only have to ask. And if you're afraid to ask, I'll do my best to find out what it is.” Harry kisses Eggsy's forehead. “But I can't read your mind, darling. And I won't push you. I just need you to know you're safe with me. I love you.”

Eggsy tenses, the words striking dissonant harmonies in his chest.

“I love you, my darling boy…”

Eggsy sniffles, reaching up to tangle one hand into Harry's hair, the other fisting his shirt. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry's hums appreciatively against Eggsy's hair, wrapping his boy in his arms. “Come here.”

Eggsy doesn't move to help too much, so it's a bit of a surprise as Harry manhandles him into his lap. Eggsy buries his face into Harry's neck, hugging him tighter as he curls up in Harry's embrace.

“I have you,” Harry whispers, and it's more than words. It's more than Eggsy completely on his lap, wrapped in his arms where the world can't touch him.

Eggsy has no words for what this does to him. He has only an inkling; a fragment of what it is that splits apart inside him and comes back together under Harry's touch.

“You make me feel… so safe,” Eggsy murmurs, breathing in the scent of Harry's warmth.

Harry smiles. He rakes his fingers through Eggsy's hair, hugs him tighter around the waist to bring him closer. “Oh, my darling… that's what daddies are for.”

Eggsy jolts, and when he pulls back to look into Harry's face, there is something new in his gaze Eggsy has never seen before.

It's unnerving, warming Eggsy’s face and chest.

“I want to take care of you, Eggsy. In every way, shape, and form,” Harry tells him, palming his hands down Eggsy's back. They settle on his waistband, fingers splaying flat. “If you told me what you wanted, I wouldn't hesitate. If you asked it of me, I would make it yours. Have I not shown you that already?”

Eggsy leans forward, pressing his forehead into Harry's collar. “...yes.”

“Then why would you doubt that I am willing? That I am so in love with you I would do anything for you?” Harry sits back, using his hands to push and pull Eggsy's body. Eggsy follows Harry's instruction until he's straddling Harry’s thighs. Then Harry pulls Eggsy closer, slotting their bodies seamlessly together.

Eggsy gasps, Harry hugging him close as Eggsy's head drops down onto his shoulder.

“Taking care of you? It's what I want. I desire nothing more than to be the source of your happiness, the one who makes you smile. I want to be the one who is able to give you everything you've gone without,” Harry breathes, then kisses Eggsy's neck. “Even this.”

“Harry…”

“Tell me what to do, and I'll do it.”

Eggsy arches back, pressing his forehead to Harry's so he can look into those brilliant eyes.

“Who do you need me to be?”

A pain shoots through Eggsy's chest, and he wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders and tangles his hands into Harry's hair.

“Please, just be mine,” Eggsy pants. “Please just love me.”

“I do, Eggsy. I love you more dearly than anything in this world,” Harry breathes, then kisses the mark on Eggsy's neck. “Just tell me what you need.”

Eggsy trembles. “Hold me. Keep holding me.”

“I wouldn't dream of letting you go,” Harry promises, kissing along Eggsy's throat as he leans back to bare it. Eggsy pulls at Harry's thick locks, palms a hand down Harry’s neck and claws at his shoulder.

“I… I need—” Eggsy chokes, rocking forward to crush the minuscule air particles of distance between himself and Harry.

“Anything, darling.”

“You. I need you…”

Harry groans, biting at Eggsy's collar bone so roughly a bruise forms instantly.

Eggsy gasps, a yelp rising in his throat that dies when Harry's hands slide roughly across his hips and then grip his arse.

“Speak up, my boy.”

The flare of heat that paints Eggsy's body leaves him breathless. “I can't. Harry, I can't do this. I can't lose you,” Eggsy pants, curving his face away from the bite of Harry's teeth on his jaw.

“Eggsy, I love you. I'm not going anywhere; I'm right here,” Harry says. “Please, just trust me.”

And Eggsy does. Oh, he trusts Harry more than anyone should trust another person. He would trust Harry to send him blind into a den of wolves unarmed. He would give his life for Harry, would take Harry at his word for anything and put him before anyone…

He can…

He can trust him with this.

Eggsy shudders, needy and desperate as his face flushes and his chest burns. “Daddy… I need you, Daddy. Please, I'm sorry, but I need you.”

Eggsy gasps, because saying it, just saying it and hearing it, fills his chest with such fullness he thinks he may burst. He's awash with such calm, with Harry's hands palming up his back beneath the shirt, Eggsy sobs again.

“That's it, my love. I'm here,” Harry sighs gratefully, bringing Eggsy flush to his body. “Don’t apologise. Never apologise for needing me. I need you more—infinitely so.”

And Eggsy clings to him, tangling his fingers tightly in Harry's hair, clutching Harry's shoulder and pulling at the shirt so roughly a seam pinches and snaps.

“I'm here, my sweet boy,” Harry says warmly, kissing Eggsy's jaw. “Say it again.”

“Daddy…” Eggsy whimpers, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible.

“There there, darling boy. My good boy, I've got you. Daddy's got you, Daddy's here.”

Eggsy sighs, a sound he's never made before breaking free of his chest and falling from his lips before he leans back, using his grip on Harry's hair to angle his face.

He stares into Harry's gaze for a split second, feeling all that love, all that freedom, before he breaks and falls forward. Eggsy claims Harry's mouth desperately, moaning wantonly as Harry's hands ruck up his shirt and palm his shoulders.

“Daddy's here now, sweet boy,” Harry says again, hot against Eggsy's lips, and Eggsy shudders.

“Promise, Daddy. Promise me,” Eggsy pants, nuzzling his face against Harry's face and neck.

Harry laughs warmly. “I promise you, my darling boy. I'm here now—and I'm not going anywhere.”

“Can we,” Eggsy sniffles. “Can we go to bed? Please?”

“And for what purpose would we go to bed?” Harry murmurs.

Eggsy shakes his head, then buries his face into Harry’s neck and keeps it there. “I just… I just wanna lay with you.” He sniffles again. “If that’s alright?”

“Of course, sweetling. Whatever you like,” Harry tells him, guiding Eggsy’s legs around his waist. “Can you hold onto me, my boy?”

Eggsy nods feverishly, throwing his arms and legs around Harry and squeezing him tightly.

“Eggsy,” Harry scolds, kissing at Eggsy’s temple. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Except up those stairs, with you in my arms. I’m not going to drop you.”

Eggsy laughs sharply and releases his death grip by a fraction. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies, love. You can hold me as tightly as you want—I just need you to know you won’t lose me. Is that clear, darling?”

Eggsy releases a long, shaky breath, clutching at Harry with less ferocity but just as much determination. “Yes…”

“Yes what?” Harry murmurs.

A quick shiver runs down Eggsy’s back, and warmth settles in his tummy again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s a good boy,” Harry praises, and Eggsy thinks he might swoon as gravity is lost beneath him. Like this, the only thing connecting him to the world is Harry, and Eggsy wishes he could feel this light, this free and safe, always.

Harry carries him up the stairs as if he weighs nothing, and for once, Eggsy doesn’t protest his show of strength.

Eggsy just lets himself be doted on, lets Harry pet his back and knead his thigh, lets warm kisses fall against the crown of his head as he clings to Harry.

When they reach the bedroom, Eggsy half thinks he's fallen asleep, before there's one less hand touching his skin and he has to crack his eyes open to find out why.

Harry is pulling back the duvet, adjusting the sheets, though the bed was never made today.

Eggsy smiles, tears still burning his eyes as Harry leans forward to fluff their pillows, holding Eggsy with a firm arm wrapped around the small of his back.

He thought for sure he'd never get back into this bed, was positive he'd wrecked his entire world beyond repair.

He kisses Harry's neck and sighs, blissfully inhaling the scent of him—that scent of home.

“Darling?” Harry says quietly, carding his fingers through Eggsy's hair.

Eggsy shakes his head. “I love you… that's all.”

Harry sighs. “Is that all?”

Eggsy feels the dip of gravity again, and then there's warmth against his back and the press of the mattress.

“Eggsy? Let go, darling,” Harry laughs warmly, and Eggsy’s eyes snap open.

“Huh?”

“You have to release me, unless you plan on just having me climb into the bed on top of you.”

Eggsy hums, hugging Harry's shoulders tighter. “That sounds fine.”

Harry sighs. “It’s not fine for me, my love… come now. Let go.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Eggsy relents, slipping his arms and legs free, sinking against the mattress as Harry perches over him with his hands on either side of Eggsy's head.

“That's my good boy,” Harry hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to his boy’s forehead.

Eggsy's eyes flutter shut, and a deep, rich warmth builds in his chest, raising the hairs on his skin. This feeling can't be real—this feeling…

“Eggsy?” Harry says, and Eggsy realises he's gasping for breath and crying twin streaks down his face, soaking his hairline.

“I'm sorry. I don't know… I'm sorry,” Eggsy chokes. “I just feel… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Shh, shh. Enough of this,” Harry says gently, and the bed dips as Harry frames Eggsy's face in his hands and kisses him. It's so gentle Eggsy thinks he's imagining it. Harry's thumbs brush at his tears, and his lips curve into a smile against Eggsy's. “It's alright, my love. What do you need?”

“Just get in here, damn it,” Eggsy snaps, reaching up to curl his hands around Harry's wrists, tugging feverishly. “Please, I… hold me. Make me feel safe. I’m so confused, Harry. Just need you to hold me.”

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry admonishes, kissing his forehead again. “Of course, my sweet boy.”

Eggsy laughs shakily, and when Harry's warmth leaves him, he looks up to see Harry taking off his glasses and setting them on the bedside table.

“Harry,” Eggsy groans, hands fluttering on the sheets.

It's getting harder to breathe, and a fresh gush of tears spill down Eggsy's face.

“Daddy,” he gasps.

When he tries to sit up, Harry kneels on the bed and puts both hands against Eggsy's chest.

“Easy, darling. It's alright, my love,” Harry assures him, lying Eggsy flat as he climbs into the bed.

Eggsy's legs fall open as if by instinct, and Harry kneels between them and presses his hands to Eggsy's thighs, smiling.

“Lovely,” he praises, running one hand up Eggsy's hip, palming his quivering belly where his shirt has ridden up. “My good boy.”

Eggsy swallows, choking off a pathetic sound as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh, fuck, Harry, please.”

“Eggsy,” Harry scolds. “You have to breathe.”

“I'm tryin’. Fuck, I'm tryin’,” Eggsy pants, hands gripping the sheets and pulling.

Harry hushes him gently, running his fingertips up Eggsy's sides, leaning forward to cage him in against the bed. He brushes their lips together, a fleeting promise of what could be but what isn't.

Because Harry doesn't kiss Eggsy. He just brushes his fingers across Eggsy's skin, teasing, eliciting heavy gasp after gasp.

“There we are,” Harry says softly, lips still just barely touching Eggsy's. “Keep breathing.”

Harry shifts forward, his knees further parting Eggsy's thighs, until they rest against Harry's hips and Eggsy's breath catches.

“Harry, something… something’s wrong. I can’t breathe, Harry. I can’t. Please—”

Harry kisses him softly, and the burning in Eggsy’s chest intensifies to the point of almost painful. He whimpers against Harry’s mouth.

Eggsy whines in his throat. “Please, Daddy. I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Another kiss presses his lips. “Eggsy, you have to trust me. Don’t you trust me?”

Eggsy’s stomach drops, his throat tight as he swallows. “It’s not that. I don’t think it’s that,” he gasps, and his hands shake and he has no idea what to do with them.

Harry kisses him, more tenderly than the last. “You don’t trust yourself…”

That sounds… believable.

Eggsy’s eyes snap open and he looks up at Harry, his hands flying up to brush over Harry’s broad shoulders. His fingers still shake, but he feels more grounded just hanging onto Harry, like being anchored in a storm. He wraps his legs around Harry’s waist more tightly, urging him forward for another one of those perfect kisses.

Eggsy licks into Harry’s mouth, drawn back by a gentle hand in his hair. “Now now, naughty boy. We’re in the middle of a very important conversation.”

“But—”

“No buts, little one,” Harry tuts, cupping Eggsy’s face in his hands so he can nuzzle their noses together. “Eggsy… I have a bit of an idea. If you don’t like it, you don’t—”

“I trust you,” Eggsy says quickly, and when Harry gives him a questioning look, Eggsy presses his face against Harry’s. “I trust you, Daddy.”

Harry sighs, a breath barely restrained as he presses one hand to Eggsy’s pulse, palm against his neck, and uses the other to tilt his boy’s face down so he can kiss his forehead. “Don’t move.”

Eggsy stays perfectly still when Harry climbs off the bed and goes into the closet, legs parted wide to accommodate Harry’s body when he returns, hands gently pressed against the sheets.

He knows Harry loves him, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he trusts Harry.

He trusts his Daddy.

Harry’s right. Eggsy’s just having trouble trusting himself.

Eggsy jolts when Harry comes back into view, and his eyes drop from Harry’s face to where his hands are hidden behind his back.

“You trust me?”

“Yes,” Eggsy replies instantly.

“Yes what?”

“...Yes, Daddy.”

Harry's smile is warm and bright, and Eggsy feels he could be burnt by it. “Good boy,” Harry murmurs, and produces his navy and crimson tie from behind his back.

Eggsy's breath hitches in his throat. It's the tie Harry wore a lifetime ago in the Black Prince when he spoke to Eggsy so gently… the first person to do so in a very long time.

Harry crosses the room slowly, gaze raking from Eggsy's feet up to his face. “I'm going to take some of your control away, Eggsy. Not all of it—I'm afraid of what that may do to you with the state you're already in.”

Eggsy's not sure what Harry means, but when he's close enough to touch, Harry brushes the tie across Eggsy's bare stomach. The action makes the muscles in Eggsy’s stomach tense and quiver.

He nods, shivering as Harry kneels over him and reaches down to brush Eggsy’s fringe back from his forehead. “Tell me again. You trust me?”

“Yes, Daddy… I trust you.”

Harry smiles, slow and sweet. “I’ll keep you safe, dear one. Daddy’s going to take care of you. Understand?”

Eggsy nods, arching his back as he lifts his hands up, wrists together.

Harry laughs warmly, combing his fingers through Eggsy’s hair. “How did you know that was what I wanted?”

Eggsy swallows, making a tiny, unsure sound as he starts to pull his hands away.

“Ah, ah,” Harry halts him. “I didn’t say I did not want that. But don’t go trying to anticipate my desires.” His fingers skin Eggsy’s hipbone. “It may get you into trouble, sweetling.”

Trembling, Eggsy reaches up and presses his hands over his face. “I don’t want that.”

“You don’t?”

Eggsy shakes his head, hard, and then reaches up, holding fast to the front of Harry’s shirt. “I want to be good. I don’t want to cause trouble for you, Daddy. I want to be good.”

Harry’s expression softens, something new and different in his gaze, before he cups Eggsy’s chin and presses the pad of his thumb to Eggsy’s bottom lip. Eggsy’s tongue flicks out to taste it. “Lovely… What do you want, Eggsy?”

“I want to be a good boy. Wanna be Daddy’s good boy; I’m your good boy. Daddy, please, please—” Eggsy pants, and Harry surges down and claims Eggsy’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

There’s so much love beneath the ferocity in Harry’s gaze that Eggsy feels like he’s been dragged beneath the waves. But the warmth of the room and the rain beyond the window fight off the shadows, and Eggsy is left staring up at Harry in wonderment as Harry’s gaze burns him alive.

“Strip for me. Slowly now, Eggsy. I want to see every inch of you laid bare before me, understand?” Harry says, still cupping Eggsy’s chin.

He nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry backs off, giving Eggsy the room he needs to climb to his knees on the mattress and to step off of it. He feels shaky, legs trembling, thoughts scrambled as he slowly unbuttons Harry’s large sleep shirt.

Eggsy keeps his eyes on the carpet, because he knows if he looks directly at Harry, he’ll collapse. He can feel the heat and weight of Harry’s gaze on him, and he trembles under the scrutiny, shrugging out of the shirt and dropping it to the floor.

“Gorgeous. Keep going, darling,” Harry praises, and Eggsy’s lids fall shut, and his head drops back as he teases his thumbs into the elastic band of his briefs. “That’s it. Let Daddy see.”

And, fuck…

Fuck, that shouldn’t send such hot arousal into the pit of Eggsy’s stomach, but it does, and he gasps as he pinches the fabric and finally, finally turns to look at Harry.

There’s something terribly predatory in his molten eye. He’s looking at Eggsy like nothing else exists, blissfully ravenous. And yet, he still looks so tender, so soft, those deft hands playing with the tie, his shoulders squared.

Eggsy keeps his eyes locked to Harry’s as he bends flawlessly to touch his toes, dragging the material down with him.

He sees the slight twitch in Harry’s expression, the pinch in his mouth that tells Eggsy he wants to tear his gaze from Eggsy’s face to eat up all that pale, freckled skin, to admire the curve of Eggsy’s arse, the arch of his back, his lean limbs. Eggsy’s cock is standing at attention, precum dripping from the red-flushed head.

But he doesn’t.

And somehow, that makes Eggsy feel a thousand times more exposed, and a thousand times hotter. He shudders, skin flushing, and his breath quickens, chest tight. His cock twitches at the way he’s completely bared, yet Harry can’t look away from his face.

But Eggsy wants to see Harry, has to look at all of him, all at once.

Eggsy’s eyes drag down Harry’s body.

And oh… oh.

If Eggsy had any worries about this being solely his desire, he’s promptly put at ease by the strain of Harry’s cock at the front of his pants. Immediately, Eggsy wishes he could drop to his knees, free Harry’s cock, and wrap his lips around it. Usually, it takes him at least a bit of effort to get Harry this excited this fast. But he can see the full outline of Harry’s prick through the fabric, can imagine the taste of the dampness he knows is gathering at the head.

He’s just as desperate and hot for this as Eggsy is. Harry, tight-laced gentleman that he is, wants this. Is giving Eggsy this. It’s making Harry hard. Eggsy wonders for a moment if he could tease a response out of Harry about how he’s going to do unspeakable things to Eggsy while Eggsy calls him Daddy.

But the words are stopped not only by his own sweet contentment, but by Harry’s voice as well.

“Perfect. Aren’t you Daddy’s beautiful boy?”

Eggsy shudders, and his head tips back again as he nods.

“Come here, pet. Come to Daddy,” Harry says, and Eggsy goes blindly, crawling onto the bed and into Harry’s lap, where Harry claims his mouth with teeth and tongue as he takes Eggsy’s wrists in one hand.

“Eggsy, I know you may not think it, but you’re in a very vulnerable place right now. But I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you and keep you safe. Should I do anything you absolutely want me to stop, you must tell me,” Harry says, wrapping the tie around his wrists but not knotting it just yet.

Eggsy hums. The fabric feels incredible, every point of contact with Harry silken and hot. “Yes, Daddy.”

“No, no, Eggsy,” Harry chides. “I want you to give me a command—a safeword.”

Eggsy’s eyes flutter open. “...You want me to establish a safeword. Right now?”

“If you can. If not, we can simply obey traffic light laws.”

Eggsy shakes his head. “I can… I can, Harry,” he says, so Harry knows Eggsy’s mind is still alert enough to know what he wants.

“Good boy.”

“Oxfords to… To slow down. Brogues to stop.”

“My perfect boy. You’re sure that’s good for you?”

“I’m sure,” Eggsy says, wriggling his bare arse against Harry’s clothed crotch. The material is soft, warmed from Harry’s body heat, and Eggsy’s eyes slip shut. “I understand.”

“Very good, then,” Harry says, and when he presses Eggsy’s wrists together and wraps the tie around them, Eggsy’s blood ignites.

Harry deftly folds the silk around his wrists, binding it between them so that all Eggsy can do is clasp his hands together. “Struggle,” Harry commands, and Eggsy tries to pull his hands apart.

The tie cinches, but doesn’t constrict, and the feel of the silk stroking him sends flares of heat through his blood. He smiles up at Harry, who kisses his forehead in response.

“Now, Eggsy… you truly have to trust me. You have to give yourself to me completely, my love. Do you understand?”

Eggsy nods, nuzzling his face into Harry’s neck as those broad hands smooth down his chest and ribs. “Yes, Daddy. I’m yours. I trust you.”

“That’s it, sweetling. My darling boy, give Daddy a kiss,” Harry says warmly, and Eggsy turns his face and lifts his arms, looping them around Harry’s neck as their lips meet. Harry hums a noise that Eggsy can’t distinguish between proud or disapproving. “Cheeky boy. Did I tell you you could do that?”

Eggsy hugs Harry closer. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Harry shakes his head, brushing his nose against Eggsy’s. “That’s alright, my love. Hold on while I lay you down,” he says, and Eggsy clings to him as Harry lifts him by the hips and slides him out of his lap and up the bed. “I want my boy to be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Eggsy sighs, lying lack and letting his arms fall over his head. He tugs against the tie, just a bit, and Harry watches the minute struggle before kneeling over him. He wraps his fingers around the tie and holds Eggsy’s wrists down with it, close enough to kiss.

“I love you, Eggsy,” Harry whispers, his fringe tickling Eggsy’s forehead.

Eggsy closes his eyes, blissful and aching. The sparks in his nerves are dying, his body sagging in Harry’s arms, falling into his warmth. It’s illuminating, it’s drugging, and he grins despite himself. “Again?”

“I love you, darling boy,” Harry says more firmly, and claims Eggsy’s lips.

Eggsy’s body arches up against the contact, Harry’s tongue parting his lips, the taste of Harry spreading across his tongue.

The world blurs beyond Eggsy’s lids, the rain a distant symphony that can’t compare to the sound of his heart rising in rhythm in his ears.

Hot breath fans across Eggsy’s lips, and he can’t even open his eyes, his body heavy and his heart frantic.

He arches up a bit higher, digging his heels into the mattress so he can feel the coolness of Harry’s shirt against his bare chest. He feels fiery, warmed from the inside out and dizzy with it.

“You trust me, my love? To give you what you need?” Harry says, and it takes Eggsy a moment to realise he’s being spoken to.

Eggsy nods, lips tingling with the loss of Harry’s kiss.

“Daddy’s going to take care of you. Yes?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Shall I tell you what I have planned for you? Will that settle your nerves a bit?”

Eggsy’s eyes flutter open. “My nerves?”

“You’re still trembling, sweetling,” Harry says, brushing his free hand down from Eggsy’s heart over his ribs, settling on his quaking hip.

Eggsy blushes. “I’m sorry…”

“You needn’t apologise. I asked you to give up control, but that’s not something easily done. That’s what this is for,” Harry pauses to tug on the tie. “You have to trust Daddy. I’ll do anything to earn that trust, Eggsy.”

Eggsy shakes his head and struggles against the tie, parting his legs wider so Harry can settle deeper between them. “You have it. Don’t have to earn nothin’, Daddy. I promise,” he says, and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe, and Harry’s hand on his hip is hot.

Harry smiles. “Such a perfect boy. My darling,” he shakes his head. “I’m amazed by you.”

“Daddy…”

“But look at you—still shaking and leaking all over yourself.” Harry innocently lets go of Eggsy’s hip and strokes his fingers up Eggsy’s cock from base to tip. He touches the slick tip, spreading the mess across Eggsy’s head, thumbing his slit so Eggsy’s hips buck erratically against the sudden contact. “Ah, look at you. So hard—desperate for Daddy, aren’t you?”

Eggsy’s stomach feels like fire. He looks at the ceiling, and white lights dance across his vision as his mouth falls open on a soundless whine.

“You’re so needy, my love. You need me, don’t you? You need Daddy to take care of you—no one else can, can they?”

Eggsy shakes his head violently, and he’s clenching and unclenching his hands into useless fists, rocking his hips up into Harry’s teasing touch. He’s not even curling his fingers around Eggsy’s cock, not even stroking him. He’s just brushing his fingers across the messy head, spreading the slick down Eggsy’s length.

“Can they?”

“No, Daddy. Please, take care of me. Please, I need you,” he begs desperately, and then Harry’s hand is off his cock and there are slick fingers touching his lips.

Eggsy’s eyes snap open, and he sees the intent in Harry’s eye, what he expects of Eggsy painted in his blown pupil.

Moaning wetly, Eggsy swipes his tongue out and brushes the flat of it up across Harry’s fingertips. He tastes sweet and sharp like salt on his own tongue, a strange sensation rocketing through his stomach, new heat blooming around the coil drawn tight there.

Harry’s lids droop and a dangerous smile touches his parted lips. “Good boy. You’re Daddy’s good boy, aren’t you?”

Eggsy just moans around Harry’s fingers, swirling his tongue around them as if they’re Harry’s cock. He’s thrusting up into the empty air, the motion making his dick bob.

He feels so shameful, shivering and aching for it, so desperate for Harry.  He can’t seem to catch his breath.

“Do you want to know what Daddy’s going to do to you, Eggsy?” Harry murmurs, and his voice is low and rough, making Eggsy’s dick twitch.

Eggsy mewls and nods, and Harry withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his tongue. He licks into Eggsy’s mouth with a feverish kiss, and his hand palms Eggsy’s side. The other is still holding Eggsy’s bound wrists over his head, though Eggsy has lost the coherency it takes to struggle against the bonds.

“I’m going to mark you. As many as I can, until I see fit to stop. I’m going to bite and lick and suck bruises into your flesh until it’s impossible for you to not know who you belong to,” Harry pants against his lips, and Eggsy keens in agreement.

He shivers, so sweetly, at the thought of Harry’s marks all over him. “I thought gentlemen didn’t boast of their conquests,” Eggsy breathes. “Thought you didn’t want to mark me because it was… indecent. Unnecessary.”

“Well remembered, my gorgeous one. But this is not to boast of my possession of you. I assure you, I’m not the least bit concerned with that. I don’t need bruises and bitemarks to speak for me,” Harry says simply. “This isn’t so much for me as it is for you. I’ll have you know I’ve never given anyone else a lovemark before. Too personal.”

Eggsy snorts.

“But knowing the effect that the sweet sting of a day old hickey can have on the psyche, I intend to lavish you with so many marks that anyone who sees you disrobed shall most assuredly question my status as a gentleman.”

Eggsy wriggles at that, the mental image warming his belly. “Yes, Daddy. Keep going.”

Harry nods. “Just so, my love. Once you’re well marked, I’m going to lick and finger you open. You’re going to be a good boy and not squirm, no matter how long it takes. Should you resist or protest or struggle against me in any way, Daddy will have to punish you.”

Oh, how sweet that sounds.

“And tonight is supposed to be about caring for you, my lovely, so don’t make Daddy put you over his knee.”

Eggsy mewls desperately. “What if I want that?” he asks.

Harry pauses. “Why would you want that, dear one?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it, Eggsy wonders. Why, oh why, is his mind such a fucking mess? Why does shit like this get him off?

Squirming under Harry’s gaze, Eggsy chews on his lip and wriggles against the bed. “I was a bad boy… I made you worry about me. I upset you—I hurt Daddy’s feelings. I was bad—such a bad boy. I… I deserve to be punished.”

Harry considers this for a moment, pondering, before he runs his hand up Eggsy’s stomach, over his chest, and presses it to the base of his throat. His thumb brushes against the beauty mark there. “What kind of punishment would you be opposed to?”

“I just… I mean? Don’t make me feel unloved. I want it to hurt—but good hurt?” Eggsy hisses through his teeth. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t… I don’t know.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, fingers tracing their way back down, playing at Eggsy’s scar, the terrible lightning splash where the bullet had torn his flesh. “Perhaps Daddy should spank you for being such a naughty boy.”

Eggsy’s dick jumps as he squirms, stomach tying in knots. His legs kick helplessly, and he moans, a terribly pathetic sound.

Harry’s brow arches at that, and he smiles. “Yes? You want Daddy to spank you, naughty boy?”

“God, please, Daddy,” Eggsy says, rolling his hips up, trying and failing to get Harry’s hands on him.

“Hm. Then, here is the new plan. Daddy will mark you up, then I will open you up and prep you for my cock. But before I give you what you want, I will lay you over my lap and I will spank your gorgeous arse until it’s as red as your beautiful cheeks,” Harry says, finally letting go of the tie to cup Eggsy’s face. He brushes his thumb in a sweeping arch over Eggsy’s blushing cheekbone, the heat deepening and the colour spreading. “And then, Daddy is going to make love to you. Does that sound adequate to you, darling boy?”

Eggsy surges up and melds Harry’s mouth to his, fisting his hands in Harry’s shirt and tugging the fabric. He’s so hard he might lose consciousness if he doesn’t come soon, shaking and breathless, but everything Harry’s said has him on the edge of the precipice already.

“Please, Daddy. Let me make you feel good first. Lemme suck your cock, Daddy, please,” Eggsy begs, and Harry lays him back down with a kiss to the forehead. But when Harry pulls back, Eggsy can see the physical evidence that those words made Harry pause, the clench of his jaw, his pupil dilating. If he begged enough, he could get his Daddy’s cock in his mouth.

“I will feel more than good once you’ve been totally and completely spent. Understand this, darling—my happiness comes from yours,” Harry says, cradling Eggsy’s face in his hands so he can kiss his forehead before he presses them together. “That’s what it means to be a Daddy.”

Eggsy’s heart feels heavy and warm, making it hard to breathe as he smiles up at Harry.

“Now then, where shall the first one go?” Harry hums thoughtfully, sitting back in the space between Eggsy’s legs, staring down at him hungrily.

Eggsy arches his back, craning his neck to the side and displaying all of himself as best as he can for his Daddy. He closes his eyes, not because Harry’s gaze devouring him is too much, but because he wants to submit to his Daddy completely.

And also, yes, it’s a bit too much for him to have Harry looking at him like that while gingerly stroking his thumb over Eggsy’s hipbone. Eggsy doesn’t know how often he’s allowed to come, nor does he know his own limits after having such a long, arduous day. The last thing he wants is to shoot off before his Daddy is ready for him, before his Daddy is finished.

Though Eggsy doesn’t doubt that it would get him a decent and delicious punishment. He wants to be good… he wants to be good for his Daddy.

“Ah, lovely, sweetling. I see a great many spots that would do well. But, perhaps first,” Harry says, digging his thumb into the meat of Eggsy’s hip. Harry pulls him down slightly, Eggsy melting willingly against the sheets, stretching his arms over his head and clutching the pillow with his bound hands.

Eggsy sighs deeply when Harry’s weight settles atop him, warm and heavy with that soft shirt causing friction on his cock, his nipples, those hands stroking up his sides to settle into the spaces between Eggsy’s ribs like they belong there. They do.

“Here,” Harry concludes, and Eggsy’s lids flutter open and he looks up at the ceiling as Harry’s mouth latches to the soft flesh of his throat, just beneath his beauty mark.

“Daddy,” he keens, rolling his hips up into Harry’s groin, feeling the hot swell of his cock through his pants.

Harry’s teeth worry a bruise into Eggsy’s skin, his tongue occasionally lapping, his lips closing so Eggsy can feel the decadent pull, the pressure of Harry sucking. He can feel the tiny vessels bursting beneath the skin, feels the burn and ache of the bruise forming.

His toes curl, hands clutching at the pillow tighter, and he rocks up into Harry without inhibition or shame.

Harry hums against his throat, a deep, beautiful sound. “I’ve only just started, my boy. You’re so responsive to touch, aren’t you?”

Eggsy gasps and nods, Harry’s hands bracketed on his ribs squeezing tighter.

“Perhaps another, just here? And one beside it, yes. A collar for my precious boy,” Harry decides, and Eggsy writhes, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re too wonderful, my lovely.”

“Tha… thank you, Daddy,” Eggsy manages, even as Harry’s teeth are nipping at the center of his throat, just along the column of his windpipe.

He chokes on his own breath and bares his neck further, crushing the back of his head against the pillow as Harry bites and sucks, the pain sending the blood rushing to Eggsy’s ears and face, the pleasure sending it to his cock.

“That’s a lovely jewel there,” Harry says, nuzzling the second mark with his nose. “I may make this one permanent. What do you think, Eggsy? I would have to darken it each night, so it wouldn’t fade. And when you were gone from me for too long, the moment you returned, I’d have to give it back to you, twice as dark.”

Eggsy keens at the thought. He wraps his thighs around Harry’s hips, squeezing, pressing his leaking cock firmly against the flat of Harry’s stomach.

“Want everyone to know I’m yours, Daddy,” Eggsy gasps.

“This is not about everyone, Eggsy,” Harry reminds him, tilting Eggsy’s chin so he can select the spot for a third hickey on Eggsy’s throat. “This is for you to know,” Harry murmurs, and then he’s burning, branding, biting another mark into Eggsy’s skin.

When it’s over, Eggsy is gasping, writhing on the sheets with his cock leaking all over his quivering belly.

Harry leans back on his heels to survey his work, and Eggsy watches him through bleary eyes, bringing his hands down to nibble on his knuckles and to hide himself from that burning gaze.

Harry is clearly displeased by that, and he grabs the tie and forces Eggsy’s arms over his head again, claiming his sweet lips in a bruising kiss.

Eggsy pants, his chest burning from the strain of his lungs, the pounding of his heart. If he’s gotten this worked up over three hickies, he’s afraid he might not live through the night.

Breaking the kiss, Harry licks Eggsy’s bottom lip, wet and obscene, before biting it hard enough to draw dampness to Eggsy’s eyes, the skin swelling almost instantly.

“You’re not trembling anymore,” Harry observes.

Eggsy laughs. “No, just going out of my mind.”

“You’ll have to hold onto your wits for a bit longer, my love,” Harry says, kissing down Eggsy’s jaw, nuzzling his throat, before settling his mouth over the long, smooth shape of Eggsy’s left collar bone. “I’m nowhere near through with you.”

Yes—definitely not living through the night.

Harry wrecks Eggsy with a trail of kisses down from his throat, crossing from one shoulder to another before he wraps one arm around the small of Eggsy’s back.

Eggsy falls limp at the touch, and Harry guides him up, pulling Eggsy onto his lap. Eggsy moves as Harry wills him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, straddling Harry’s thighs despite the fact that his own muscles feel limp and achy.

“That’s it, my love,” Harry says warmly, and then he’s bruising Eggsy’s hip with one hand, tilting his neck back with the other hand fisted in his hair.

Eggsy moans, a broken, needy sound.

Harry gives life to a new mark on the thin, aching flesh of Eggsy’s left collar bone. It takes less time to get as dark as the ones on his throat, but Harry still gives it ample attention with tongue and teeth after he’s sucked the bruises dark and hot.

Harry ducks his head and sucks a claim right over Eggsy’s heart, and Eggsy tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugs him closer, desperate for the pain to never end. Another mark is placed just beside Eggsy’s nipple, and Eggsy rocks his hips. Another mark nearly mirrors it just over Eggsy’s right nipple. Then another. And another.

Eggsy’s right shoulder has three marks, his collar bones mottled and hot, and when Harry kisses him with tender lips flushed red from sucking, Eggsy’s cock spurts out a thin jet of precome onto his stomach.

When he comes back to himself after that, he’s lying back down, and Harry is nosing down his torso, hovering over Eggsy.

“Daddy…” Eggsy gasps, gripping the pillow over his head, sucking in a quivering breath as Harry laps up the pearlescent fluid smeared all over his abs.

“My sweet boy… nothing tastes quite as incredible as you,” Harry growls, a dark, sweet promise, and Eggsy groans and buries his face into the crook of his arm. “So sweet—just for me.”

“Yes, Daddy. Just for you—all yours,” Eggsy promises, and then Harry is branding him with another mark, just on the tender spot above the jut of his hip bone.

Eggsy bucks up, squirming at the sudden heat and pressure, painful just past the point of ticklish, and his stomach twists. “Daddy!”

Another mark comes just an inch or two higher, then Harry licks and sucks a filthy trail across the smooth flat of Eggsy’s stomach to suckle another dark bruise onto his other hip. This one is lower, closer to the well-groomed thatch of dark gold hair nestled at the base of Eggsy’s erection.

Harry completely ignores Eggsy’s leaking, red-flushed length in favour of moving back up from his torturous embellishing to bite a bruise onto Eggsy’s right rib. And another. Then one on the left. His shirt lightly brushes Eggsy’s cock, a teasing touch that has pearlescent fluid leaking from the head.

“Daddy, st… ah! Daddy, I need,” Eggsy tries. It hurts, but god, it hurts like nothing Eggsy has ever known. He doesn’t want it to stop. But he wants what he was promised next.

Harry sits back, still close enough for his heat to make Eggsy dizzy, and smiles. “Yes, my love.”

“Please…” Eggsy can't continue; instead, he turns his head into his arm and groans.

Harry tuts softly. “I thought I taught you better than that; I'll have to fix that.”

Before Eggsy can ask what that means, Harry ducks his head and swirls his tongue over Eggsy's left nipple before taking it between his teeth. The pressure is too much when Harry sucks. Eggsy's back arches up off the bed, wrists straining at the silk knotted around them.

“Fuck!” It takes all Eggsy has to not cry. Then Harry lavishes his other nipple with the same treatment. A bright heat flares up in Eggsy's chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Speak clearly when you want something, darling, and you shall have it,” Harry says, kissing away the sting across Eggsy's chest.

Eggsy gulps down a few lungfuls of air, staring up at the glittering specks on the ceiling. His stomach quivers, and he uses all his strength to sit up and wrap his tied arms around Harry’s neck.

He tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugs, mouthing hot, damp kisses along Harry’s jaw. “Fuck me, Daddy,” Eggsy begs, heart beating against his ribs, blood burning.

Harry makes a sound, a blessed fracture in his control that Eggsy wants to hear again. But those warm, gun-calloused hands grab his hips and squeeze, and Harry turns his face away to bite at Eggsy's shoulder.

“My sweet, greedy, filthy boy,” Harry hums, nearly purrs, and Eggsy keens. “Daddy already told you—you'll be well taken care of tonight. But I need you to be patient. My lovely, look at you.”

Rather than push Eggsy away, Harry curls his fingers around Eggsy's cock.

Eggsy makes a sweet, broken sound, and Harry smears the mess of slick dripping from his cock all over Eggsy's length. “There we are… perfect,” Harry sighs. “You are so perfect, darling.”

The name unspools Eggsy’s sanity, and he yanks on Harry’s hair hard and bucks up into Harry’s fist.

“But…” Harry says, sounding disappointed. Then his hand is gone, and he's tugging Eggsy's arms over his head and pushing Eggsy back down into the bed.

Eggsy nearly screams at the pang of loss he feels, so suddenly pushed away after such sweet words were whispered into his ear.

Harry's gaze is sharp and hungry, still so warm.

Eggsy swallows.

“My precious, darling boy… you were very, very naughty this morning… weren't you?”

His hand skims over Eggsy's thigh, and oh… oh fuck.

Eggsy trembles.

“You hurt Daddy, didn't you?” Harry says, softer, and presses his thumb into one of the bruises on Eggsy's hip.

The ache makes Eggsy arch and sigh. “Daddy…”

“You have to be punished. You know you deserve it—don't you?”

Eggsy bites his lip, fussing against his bindings. The tie twists around him sweetly but doesn't tighten, the silk warmed to his skin.

“Eggsy?”

Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut. Shame burns inside of him and he exhales shakily.

He's ashamed for hiding from Harry, ashamed that he was so stupid this morning, ashamed that he was afraid of Harry and what he would think… he curls into himself, hands tugging absently as the tie. Now he's ashamed that he wants this so fucking badly.

“Please… punish me, Daddy. I was s-so bad… I didn't mean to h-hurt you. I won't do it again,” Eggsy whimpers, his voice hardly sounding like his own anymore. “I'm sorry.”

“Hm. My sweet boy says he's sorry,” Harry sighs, pressing his palm to Eggsy's stomach. Eggsy's cock twitches against the back of Harry's hand. “But you still have to be punished.”

Eggsy nods, and when Harry cups his jaw and tilts his head, Eggsy looks up at him and feels his breath catch in his lungs.

Harry is so striking, so gorgeous and deadly as he hovers over Eggsy with that unshakable stare. The honey of his iris is all but gone, swallowed by his pupil. It’s the most obvious sign of Harry’s desire.

That, and the wet patch staining his tight trousers.

Eggsy’s mouth waters. He wants to roll his hips up for friction, wants to claim Harry’s mouth again. But he remains deathly still, knowing it’ll please his Harry, please his Daddy.

Harry smiles, brushing his knuckles across Eggsy’s cheek. “But Daddy will never, ever hurt you. I’m only punishing you because you were disobedient, and you hurt Daddy’s feelings. And,” Harry says softly, gently, “Daddy loves you… oh, how I love you, Eggsy. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that, Harry…” Eggsy says, then softly, “Daddy…”

Harry kisses his forehead reverently, knowing exactly what Eggsy means when he says his name. “Now then. Let’s get this lesson over with so I can resume ravishing you.” Harry threads his fingers into the loop of the tie. “Up, sweetling.”

Eggsy follows the command, and he rises off the bed and stands while Harry sits at the edge with his legs slightly parted. He tilts his head, waiting expectantly for Eggsy to assume the position.

Eggsy blushes, realising he’ll be spread out across Harry’s lap, facedown on the mattress. “Wouldn’t you rather I bend over the bed?” Eggsy makes an attempt at teasing, but his mouth is dry, and his voice too soft.

Harry’s brows arch, just the slightest bit. “Perhaps another time. Right now, I’d like you over my knees, lovely.”

Swallowing, Eggsy says, “And that’s comfortable? For you?”

“Eggsy,” Harry smiles, bemused, and takes Eggsy by the hips and pulls him close. “Just trust me.”

It takes very little coercing after that to get Eggsy laid out over Harry’s lap. His cock is pressed to Harry’s muscular thighs, the wool of his trousers sweet friction on his length. Eggsy blushes, burying his face into the mattress between his arms, which are stretched out over his head, fists in the duvet already.

“Legs down, knees together,” Harry says, an Eggsy stretches out and presses his feet to the mattress.

He takes a shuddering breath when Harry’s right hand caresses one cheek, then the next. Harry’s touches are light, deliberate, stealing Eggsy’s breath as he raises chills in the wake. Then he kneads Eggsy’s arse, firm, hungry squeezes that have Eggsy gasping as Harry alternates from cheek to cheek, fingers playing lightly at his crack. Eggsy is dying to be spread open, to be taken apart, and he keens and twists his head to the side to see Harry’s face.

He stares at Eggsy’s arse appreciatively, taking one globe in hand and sighing.

“I'm going to give you ten, Eggsy. Understand? Five for your punishment, five to make sure you remember,” Harry says, cupping his hand under the curve of Eggsy's arse, the taut flesh hot under his hand. “You’ll count them back to me as I give them to you. Do you accept your punishment?”

Eggsy arches his back, pressing his arse up into Harry's palm. “Yes, Daddy. I'm ready.”

Without much more preamble, Harry's hand is gone. And then it's back, a sharp, stinging crack breaking the silence of the room.

For a moment, there's nothing. Then Eggsy sucks in a desperate breath and cries out, his right arse cheek exploding with thousands of white-hot pinpricks. The blow drives him forward, his cock dragging on Harry’s thigh. Eggsy pants, pressing his forehead to the mattress and then shaking his head.

“Oh my fuck… oh, fuck!” Eggsy wriggles, Harry’s hand coming down to stroke lightly across the welt, soothing the heat.

“Eggsy?”

“Hn… one. One, Daddy,” Eggsy finally manages, after he’s squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he sees stars. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done with you, beautiful,” Harry promises, and then he strikes Eggsy again, this time on the left side.

Eggsy keens, high and desperate as the next blow of pain crests over the first like a wave, a promise of what’s to come. Eggsy shudders. “Two.”

Harry teases him for a moment, before delivering three and four in quick succession, making Eggsy writhe and moan with embarrassing volume.

He counts them back nonetheless, and Harry strikes him again, right against the curve of his arse.

“F… fuck…” Eggsy wheezes.

“What was that?”

“Five. F-fi… five.”

“Good,” Harry says, and then spanks Eggsy again, the hardest blow so far.

“S—”

Before Eggsy can say six, Harry delivers another blow, and Eggsy chokes on the deep breath he was taking. His hips buck against Harry’s lap, the ache in the small of his back coupled with the sudden added friction on his dick sparking up red-hot embers in the pit of his belly. The twisting coil of pleasure in his gut springs tighter, and Eggsy moans and moans.

Harry says something to him, but Eggsy’s mind is fogged over and rose-hued. When he turns his face to look at Harry, desperate for his face, his mouth is slick and hot. Eggsy realises he’s drooling, the damp smearing across his bicep as he pants.

When he blinks, tears burn his cheeks, but his hazy vision, Eggsy thinks, is not due to his tears.

Harry’s looking at him intensely, brows furrowed, mouth pursed.

Fingers curl around Eggsy’s hip, pressing, squeezing, and Eggsy feels a motion beneath Harry's touch.

“Stop that,” Harry scolds, voice husky and hot, like he doesn't want to be scolding Eggsy for whatever he's scolding him for.

Eggsy opens his mouth wider, tries to find words through the mess of confused nerves that have all been tangled up by the heat and the pain and the rush of desire.

Then he stops.

A strike of clarity hits Eggsy like ice water as he stares up at Harry and stops…

He doesn't know how long, or when he started… but he was rutting against Harry's lap. He was fucking his cock against Harry Hart’s fucking lap.

Eggsy swallows, a needy whimper bleeding from his throat.

“I'm… I'm so sorry… Harr—”

Harry cups Eggsy's jaw, brushes his thumb across his spit-slick lips, smiling. But his pupil is still blown, that hungry darkness still cast over him like a shadow.

“You've missed two numbers, my love. I'll not ask you again—count them back to me,” Harry says, not displeased, but not lovingly.

Eggsy swallows thickly and nods. “Six. And seven. Thank you, Daddy.”

Harry smirks, a flickering emotion painting his expression, fleeing before Eggsy can decipher it.

“Well done, love. You have three more—can you be good for me while I finish your punishment?” Harry murmurs, stroking Eggsy's arse with a gentle palm. “Though if you can remain coherent, and count the strikes for me, you can continue… as you were.”

Eggsy's eyes fall shut, heavy and blissful, and he rocks just the slightest bit. He wriggles against the tie, palms the sheets, and stills. “Do… do you want me to be still, Daddy?”

He looks up at Harry, wholeheartedly submissive and open, his need to please Harry outweighing his need to find pleasure for himself.

Harry's smile turns soft, and he rests his thumb against the corner of Eggsy's mouth. “Do you think you could come for me if you remained still?”

And ah, there it is. Harry is presenting him with a challenge; Eggsy is desperate to surpass his expectations.

He nods. “Of course, if you wanted me to, Daddy.”

“I want so desperately to kiss you, my darling,” Harry sighs, and Eggsy is too blissed out to try and decipher the emotion in Harry’s voice.

Eggsy twists, rising up by pressing his hands against the mattress. He presses his forehead against Harry’s cheek, and then tilts his face up to touch Harry’s lips with his.

What is at first chaste and gentle becomes fierce and claiming, and Harry cups Eggsy's face and presses his lips hard. There's only the softest brush of tongue, Harry teasing the seam of Eggsy's mouth until he's panting, and then he releases his boy and sighs.

“My darling,” Harry whispers, and Eggsy lies back down and sighs contentedly.

A few moments pass, quiet and heavy between them as Harry breathes deeply and trails his fingers across Eggsy's back with featherlight touches.

When Harry spanks him again, Eggsy's cock leaks, not having lost interest in the prior attentions of Harry's hands, even after the kiss.

Eggsy exhales, slow and deep through his nose, and then blinks tears out of his eyes. “Eight.”

Another slap, another startling burst of pain dissolving into pleasure and liquid heat.

“Nnnnnine,” Eggsy says when he's caught his breath.

Harry bows over and kisses Eggsy's shoulder, teasing a finger between Eggsy's arse cheeks.

“Here we are, my love. One more. One more for me,” Harry murmurs. “One more?”

Eggsy gasps. There's an ache in his chest from his heart pounding for so long, his body trembling. The sting is almost too much, and Eggsy wants so desperately to move.

His eyes are streaming a constant trickle of tears, and his cock is hard past the point of pleasure. Every pulse of blood in his body has beads of precum leaking from the head, and he wants to fuck himself off on Harry's lap. He wants so badly to grind his hips down and wantonly thrust his cock against Harry's trousers until he's abjectly making a mess all over himself.

But he remains terribly, perfectly still.

“Please Daddy… one more. Fuck, please, spank me. Give it to me, Daddy.” Eggsy should be humiliated by how pathetic he sounds, voice cracking and face burning as he begs. He cries harder, tucking his face into the blankets so he can sob. “Please, please, Daddy, I need it, I need it. I wanna come; please.”

Harry curses above him, and Eggsy miraculously remains still, aside from his every muscle quivering. He bites the blankets as Harry rocks up against him, Eggsy's cockhead dragging across his thigh.

“Darling boy, you sound positively sinful like this. You really want it, don't you? Filthy boy—you'd get yourself off just like this, rocking in my lap?”

Eggsy keens.

“Beautiful creature—you're absolutely stunning. Oh, Eggsy… you should see yourself,” Harry murmurs, and before Eggsy says anything else, Harry is squeezing a handful of his tender arse so hard it hurts. “One more. Ask for it again.”

“Spank me again, Daddy. Please, one more—spank me,” Eggsy begs.

And Harry delivers.

He hits Eggsy, strikes his palm across both of his arse cheeks with the hardest blow yet. It’s so suddenly loud in Eggsy’s ears, the burn spreading beneath Harry’s palm mind-numbing.

Eggsy opens his mouth, cries soundlessly into the mattress, and stays so, so still.

Harry sighs, a heavy sound that washes over Eggsy like sunlight.

Eggsy quivers, a bow drawn tight, hairs away from breaking. “...ten,” he says, barely a sigh, and Harry presses a hand to the small of his back.

“Well done. Oh, well done, darling.”

Eggsy sobs at the endearment, and he rocks his hips just slightly.

“You were so good for me, Eggsy. So good, darling; that's it,” Harry says, and Eggsy feels fingers prodding at his jaw. He turns his face, Harry's face blurry through his tears, breath coming in ragged pants.

“Daddy…” Eggsy pleads.

And Harry knows exactly what his boy needs. He smiles. “Are you going to make a mess all over my trousers, Eggsy? Are you going to come in Daddy's lap?”

Eggsy shudders, shaking his head desperately. “N-no, Daddy. No.”

Harry quirks a brow, smirking. “No?”

“Not without your permission, Daddy. I'm your good boy.”

“Yes, that you are. And good boys deserve to come, don't they?”

Eggsy just nods, shaky and fast.

Harry hums thoughtfully, shifting his thighs. Eggsy can't bite back the moan that falls from his lips at the new friction on his neglected cock. He remains dutifully still as Harry takes his hips in hand and gently, delicately, rolls them. “That they do. And you've been ever so good, my love. You want to come for me, yes?”

Eggsy nods, choking on his own breath.

“You want to make a mess for Daddy, don't you? Want to show me how good I made you feel?”

He nods again, more fervently. The shameful, broken moan that falls from Eggsy’s lips has a fresh wave of tears gushing from his eyes.

“Eggsy?”

Eggsy twists his face up, out of his bicep where he had unknowingly hidden it again. He looks into Harry's face, meets his gaze.

Harry says the word softly, the gentlest command he has ever given Eggsy, and yet it is his saving grace; his freedom in one word.

“Come.”

A thread snaps, the glass dam breaks, and Eggsy's mouth hangs open as his body spasms.

There's a split second of blinding, white-hot intensity, so strong Eggsy completely loses his grip on reality. A thousand sparks go off under Eggsy's skin, his muscles tensing, and then Eggsy is coming.

He cries, a pathetic, needy sound drawn out from behind his ribs as his hands fist in the duvet and tear.

Eggsy's sure his cock isn't even sure what's happening at first, still so hard and barely leaking before jet after jet of cum leaks across his belly, all over Harry's lap.

“That's it, darling… well done,” Harry sighs again as he pets Eggsy's sore arse soothingly.

Eggsy moans, gasps, bucking his hips as his cock continues to spurt out an obscene amount of cum.

Eggsy feels heavy, wrung out, and unable to breathe. There's nothing but his harsh sobbing and trembling and Harry's hands on his flushed skin.

It takes ages for Eggsy to come down, and even then, his hips move of their own accord. He thrusts lazily against Harry's thighs, over-sensitive but still hungry and aching.

Harry continues petting him, then Eggsy feels a hand tangling into his hair. Harry threads his fingers through the strands and tugs gently, combing through the damp locks.

“Sweetling? Are you still with me?” Harry says, voice softly teasing but concerned.

It takes several thunderous heartbeats before Eggsy finds which muscles command his neck. He nods, drowsy and blissful, then wriggles against Harry's lap, brushing his legs and chest against the softness of the duvet.

“Are you sure?”

Eggsy mewls, the sound soft and weak in his throat.

“Perhaps we’d best stop here, love. You've had a long day,” Harry offers, and Eggsy is surprised that he has the energy to shove up into his elbows.

He twists around and looks up at Harry, pleading with all he has. “No, Daddy. Please… you promised you'd make love to me.” Eggsy licks his lips, tries to steady himself enough to prove he can handle having Harry's attentions on him once more. “You promised.”

Harry smiles broadly, and Eggsy's chest hurts from being the sole focus of such adoration. “That I did… and you can handle that, my darling? You've already given me so much.”

Eggsy swallows, catching his breath. His cock is already stirring again, despite the overwhelming orgasm he just experienced. “I can.” He doesn't hesitate. There’s no pause in his voice, and there's strength behind his words—Eggsy knows he can do this. He can take whatever Harry will give him. He has before, and he will again.

Harry hums thoughtfully, his warm, loving smile turning into a pleased smirk. “That's my good boy.”

Eggsy's eyes fall shut and he suppresses a full-body shudder.

“Hands and knees, sweet boy.”

Eggsy follows Harry's order on shaky legs, stepping off his Daddy’s lap, wobbling as Harry steps out of his way. When Eggsy climbs back into the bed, he nearly falls face first into the pillows. It's only by sheer willpower that he manages to get his knees parted far enough that he can support himself on his trembling arms.

Harry's hand touches the space between his shoulder blades, and Eggsy huffs out a heavy breath before looking back.

“You'll stay up like this, on your hands and knees, until I say otherwise. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Harry says, and Eggsy grins.

He lets his head hang as Harry fusses in the bedside table drawer, kneeling on the bed as he uncaps the bottle of lube.

“Can you ask for it nicely, Eggsy?” Harry teases, softly.

Eggsy bites his lip, spreads his legs a little wider as he feels the bed dip, Harry settling behind him. “Please. Open me up, Daddy. Get me ready for your cock—

Eggsy moans wantonly as Harry's hands spread his sore cheeks, and his lips kiss against Eggsy's hole, the muscle fluttering when Harry's tongue sweeps out and laps at the rim.

“Exquisite, my love. Perfect.” Harry murmurs, and then his tongue is teasing at Eggsy, lapping over him in broad strokes, prodding at the tight pucker.

Eggsy doesn't contain himself now. He drops his head down until his shoulders are taut and his chin touches his chest, the sounds falling from his lips explicit and sinful. Harry kisses and licks and sucks at Eggsy's hole like they have all the time in the world. His thumbs press into Eggsy's arse cheeks, right next to his opening, and spread him wider.

Keening, Eggsy feels his back arch slightly, and he sighs heavily as Harry's tongue presses past his rim, fucking into him.

Than Harry's tongue is gone and those gentle hands are squeezing Eggsy's sore arse with fervour.

“Straighten up,” Harry commands, and Eggsy snaps back up, holding himself upright on all fours.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Eggsy says, and Harry hums approvingly behind him.

He gets back to the task at hand, palming Eggsy's arse, spreading his cheeks to bare his hole again. When Harry's hot breath fans across his damp, spit-slick hole, Eggsy trembles.

“Fuck, Daddy,” Eggsy groans, and Harry make a sound of equal gratification as he swirls the tip of his tongue around Eggsy's hole before thrusting it back in.

He fucks Eggsy like that for some time, lazily thrusting his tongue in and out, massaging Eggsy's arse with his palms and fingers. Eggsy keeps up a symphony of melodious sounds, sighing and gasping and moaning through his clenched teeth as Harry takes apart his sanity.

One of Harry's hands disappears from Eggsy's attention for just a moment, and Eggsy opens his eyes and stares up at the headboard.

Something clicks behind him, and Eggsy quivers when Harry's tongue leaves him and is replaced by a slick finger circling his hole.

“Stunning,” Harry praises, and then sinks his finger into Eggsy all the way to the second knuckle. It's hot and sweet, the burn gradually fading into pure pleasure as Eggsy's stomach twists up tighter, hotter.

“Ahn, oh. Oh! Fuck, Daddy…” Eggsy pushes his hips back, meeting Harry's next thrust spot on.

Harry groans. “Gorgeous boy.” He adds another finger without preamble, and Eggsy arches and keens as Harry scissors them and twists, palm to the ceiling. Harry's fingertips press his prostate, and Eggsy chokes on his own breath and tenses all over.

His hole squeezes around Harry's fingers, muscles clenching and fluttering as Eggsy tries to breathe.

Harry's other hand stops spreading him and Eggsy whimpers when fingers curl around his cock.

“Good boy, Eggsy. Opening up so well. My good boy.”

Eggsy bucks back onto Harry's fingers, then thrusts forward into his hand.

“Ready for another, darling?”

Eggsy cries out. “Please, Daddy.”

Harry kisses the small of Eggsy's back, and then sinks a third finger into his boy’s slick hole.

Time bleeds into an incoherent thread for Eggsy. All he can think about is Harry's fingers stretching him hotly, Harry's hand stroking his cock, and the drive to stay upright until his Daddy tells him otherwise.

“Are you ready for my cock, sweetling?” Harry hums, breath hot on Eggsy's neck as he curves over him.

Eggsy wants to snap at him, wants to bite. He wants to make a witty remark about how stupid that question is and how Harry knows exactly how ready Eggsy is.

But he can't. He bites his lip and nods helplessly, because he's a good boy, and good boys don't talk back.

Harry twists his fingers, digs them deep inside of Eggsy and presses against his prostate. Stars blind his vision, and Eggsy is too jacked up on the intensity of the pleasure to even scream.

“I asked if you were ready, darling,” Harry says innocently, like he isn't holding a scorching weight down against Eggsy's prostate.

Eggsy chokes, fresh tears running down his cheeks, and he tries to speak. “Ye…”

Harry fucks his fingers deeper, pressing Eggsy's prostate down like the world will end if he lets up.

A sharp, brittle cry tears itself out of Eggsy's throat, and his back arches as his cock leaks onto the mattress.

“Yes, Daddy. Yes, yes, I'm ready for your cock. Please, give it to me. Gi—” Eggsy nearly collapses under the pressure of keeping himself up.

Harry hushes him, withdrawing his fingers, leaving Eggsy’s hole fluttering around nothing.

Eggsy feels so empty, so helpless and gaping as he remains deathly still while Harry sighs behind him.

“Flawless boy,” Harry says warmly, and then he presses a hand to the space between Eggsy's shoulders. “Down.”

Eggsy slides slowly down into his elbows and forearms, hands stretched out in front of him. The motion arches his back, forcing his legs to spread a bit wider, his arse tipped high into the air.

Harry kisses his hole, and Eggsy squirms.

He can hear Harry unbuckling his belt, dragging down his zip slowly.

“You’ve made a terrible mess of Daddy’s trousers,” Harry scolds. “I should fuck your perfect arse until I've had my fill and not let you come again for that.”

Eggsy whines, desperate, hating the idea.

But if Harry wants that, Eggsy would be more than happy to stay hot and hard as punishment. To have Harry fuck him at all right now would be a blissful reward, with or without orgasm.

“But you've been such a good boy. Oh darling, Daddy loves you. My good boy,” Harry murmurs soothingly as he slicks his cock.

Eggsy's dying for a taste, can see Harry's bare thighs through the open V of his spread legs, and he buries his face and moans. He can't ask for that. He has to be good.

Harry's cockhead is blood-hot when it teases across his slick hole, and the muscle flutters involuntarily.

Harry murmurs more encouraging words, more whispers of praise, all the while holding one of Eggsy's hips in his hand, the other guiding his cock between Eggsy's arse cheeks. He doesn't slide in right away, just thrusts the length back and forth across Eggsy's entrance, making him dizzy.

Eggsy pants, gasps, wriggles back against the sweet friction that's about to drive him mad.

More precum dribbles from the red tip of his cock, and the duvet grows dark between his spread knees.

“Daddy,” Eggsy wheezes, and the tip of Harry’s cock catches on his rim, the head sinking in.

“Darling,” Harry replies, and he takes Eggsy’s hips in his hands and drives himself forward, slowly, into his boy.

Eggsy's breath stops in his chest, his muscles quivering, and he feels the prickle of darkness at the back of his skull. The pleasure is so mind-numbing, tingling so deep and so pure inside of him, that Eggsy thinks he may black out.

Then Harry's thighs touch the curve of his arse, his cock settled fully inside of Eggsy.

And Eggsy sighs slowly, liquid ecstasy bleeding through his veins.

Harry rocks back slightly, thrusts back in, and settles deeper into his boy. “You feel magnificent,” Harry growls, using Eggsy's hips as leverage to rock forward, to grind slowly and agonisingly inside of Eggsy.

“You feel… oh, fuck. Hnn, Daddy.”

Harry fucks him slowly and sweetly—no. No, Eggsy thinks, this ain't fucking.

Harry is making love to him.

And it's on a whole other level compared to what he's had before.

Eggsy knows Harry could take his hips and fuck him raw. He could nail Eggsy's prostate until he cried, could yank on his hair and push his face into the bed until Eggsy screamed his throat hoarse. Yes, Harry could undo him like this: Eggsy's thighs spread wide, arse up and open, face down, hands bound…

Helpless…

But Eggsy doesn't feel helpless. And Harry doesn't do any of those things.

He rocks in and out of Eggsy with a tenderness that borders on painful, the pleasure cresting then melting inside of Eggsy.

The sinuous roll and plunge has Eggsy's back arching, his toes curled and fists clenched.

It draws tiny whimpers, aching little mewls, and a symphony of breathy, strained moans from Eggsy's throat. Every inhale is a shudder, every exhale a song, and he sounds broken even to his own ears.

Harry doesn't speed up, just draws Eggsy back to meet his thrusts, exhaling his own impassioned groans. He thrusts a little harder now and then, drives Eggsy forward just a bit and makes his back bow exquisitely.

It goes on like that for an obscene amount of time. Knowing Harry's stamina, Eggsy feels like he's been getting this slow, maddening treatment for nearly an hour.

As he is now, he's had enough of the slow, sweet tenderness. His cock has been leaking a steady drip of pearly precum, and his thighs and shoulders ache.

Harry could probably go on fucking him this way for ages. Probably gets a satisfying thrill off the way Eggsy keens and sighs and whimpers and gasps for him.

But it can't go on forever.

Eggsy feels the curling of heat, the spreading of tightness in his nerves, all the sweet decadence that signals orgasm.

When his moans become more erratic, and he braces himself for the obscene thrill it is to come on Harry Hart’s cock—

Harry stills, cock hot and pulsing inside his boy, and tuts. “Did I say you could come yet?”

Eggsy's eyes snap open, and the warmth of release twists and shatters inside of him, the waves descending and the pain of being denied a sharp, hot pressure.

He tries to growl through his teeth, but it comes out a defeated, broken sob. “With all that talk before… I expected you to fuck me a bit harder,” Eggsy manages to say through grit teeth, around ragged pants. He tips his head up and his cheek brushes the silk tied round his wrists. “Wanted you to fuckin’ take me, Daddy. Want you to fuck me till I can't scream.”

He fucks back onto Harry's cock, hears Harry grunt in surprise as Eggsy clenches down around him.

“C’mon, Daddy. Fuck me. Use me how you want, I'll take it as hard as you want,” Eggsy pants, thrusting back against Harry's thighs again. His breath hitches, and he grinds slowly against Harry's cock. “Please, I'll be such a good boy!”

Eggsy cries out, feels suddenly cold when Harry's hands steady him and then, slowly, Harry's cock slips out of him.

He's sure he's done something wrong, and tears start pouring from his eyes again.

Hands are touching him gently, rolling him over onto his back and spreading his thighs. Eggsy whimpers and chokes on another cry, and he squeezes his eyes shut in defeat.

Then Harry's hands, deft and warm, are untying the tie from around his wrists.

Eggsy opens his eyes, finds Harry kneeling between his spread legs, folding up the tie after setting Eggsy's hands softly on his own stomach.

Harry looks fucking gorgeous. His hair is a bit dishevelled, and his pants are still pushed down around his knees. With his kiss-pink mouth and his flushed skin, the softness of sweat dampening his temples, Eggsy can see just how wrecked Harry is.

He's just as bad off as Eggsy is.

Harry nimbly undoes the buttons of his shirt—finally—and slides the slightly rumpled garment off his shoulders and drops it on the floor.

He runs his hands up Eggsy's thighs, takes his hands and kisses Eggsy's fingers, before withdrawing to remove his trousers and pants.

Finally, Harry undoes his eyepatch, hair tousled around the band before he tosses it onto the bedside table.

Eggsy sits on his elbows, desperate to reach for Harry before Harry closes the space between them, climbing atop Eggsy, lying over him.

Harry's hand cups his cheek as he climbs atop his boy, pressing his forehead to Eggsy's as he sighs raggedly, cock nestled against the juncture of Eggsy’s hip and thigh.

He remains still and relishes the warmth and weight and sureness of Harry on top of him, holding him this way, loving him this way.

“You are a good boy—my good boy,” Harry says gently. “And you're doing perfectly, darling. Everything I want and need. Perfect,” Harry tells him, and Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut and cries a bit harder.

“I just…”

“I know. I know, my love.”

Of course Harry knows that Eggsy has never known this kind of affection, even from Harry's hands.

“I rather thought I'd like to see this beautiful face… this face that has completely ruined me for anyone else… I'd like to see these unfathomable eyes when you come apart in my arms,” Harry says, and Eggsy feels boneless and defeated at the tenderness in Harry's voice. “Is that alright, my good boy?”

Harry's thumb makes an arch through Eggsy's tear stains.

Eggsy chokes, unable to form words.

Harry smiles. “You are my good boy.”

Fingers tingling and arms weak, Eggsy runs his palms up Harry's stomach, keeping one hand on Harry's chest while the other curves up his neck and tangles into the damp hairs at the back of his neck. Harry's heart is thunderous.

“I… I love you, Daddy,” Eggsy says, finally looking into those gorgeous eyes for the first time in what feels like decades.

Harry jolts back slightly, as if the words aren't what he deserves to hear.

“Please… let me make you come,” Eggsy whispers, rising up slightly to brush his lips timidly, hesitantly across Harry's.

Harry gasps, pulling away for a split second that Eggsy feels in his bones.

But he follows Harry's mouth, tugs on his hair and wraps his knees tightly against Harry's hips.

And Harry relents, relinquishes whatever hesitancy he had, and kisses Eggsy back. He holds his boy’s face in his hand with a bruising intensity, and he crushes Eggsy back down against the pillow with the force of his kiss.

Eggsy moans into Harry's open mouth as Harry parts his lips and slides their tongues together.

Eggsy cants his hips up, dizzy and light, and wraps his arms around Harry and nearly falls apart from just a kiss.

When Harry finally pulls back, his lips are damp, his pupils are blown, and his breathing is shallow.

Eggsy feels a swell of pride bursting behind his ribs. Only he can do this to Harry, and Harry wants only him.

Harry smiles, combing Eggsy's fringe back from his face with a gentle hand.

“Not without you, my love,” Harry says, and Eggsy grins.

“Yes, Daddy. Please,” Eggsy moans, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he smooths his hands down Harry's back. He digs his nails lightly into Harry's hips. “Make me come on your cock, Daddy.”

The sound Harry makes is nothing short of feral, and Eggsy is being kissed again like Harry is starved for him. Harry hooks his arms under Eggsy's legs, drawing his knees up to his chest so Harry can rut against his slick arse.

Eggsy reaches between them, moaning against Harry's demanding mouth so he can take Harry's cock in his hand. It's so hot, so fucking stiff and thick and Eggsy doesn't know how he ever manages to take it to the hilt. He guides the head to his hole, bucks his hips up so Harry sinks in slightly.

“Daddy,” Eggsy moans.

“My gorgeous little tart,” Harry groans, and Eggsy grins, pressing his cheek flush to Harry's so he can pant into his ear as Harry drives into him. “I'll never get enough of you.”

Eggsy keens high in his throat, arching up against Harry, trying to get every inch of skin on skin contact. “Please!” Eggsy cries, and Harry’s words mean so much all at once that he can't bear it.

Releasing Eggsy's legs, Harry's snakes one arm under him, pressing his elbow to Eggsy's spine, hand to his shoulder. Eggsy arches against him, held in place so Harry can drive deeper into him. Eggsy wraps his legs around Harry's hips, arms clutching Harry closer as he gasps and moans against Harry's shoulder.

“Are you close my love?” Harry says, kissing Eggsy's shoulder.

Eggsy nods, pawing at Harry's back, tugging at his hair. He doesn't have the strength for words.

Each thrust draws a needy, breathless sound from Eggsy's lips, the pressure building and burning inside of him.

Harry bears down on him with deep, rough thrusts. But still, it's not rushed. The drive of Harry into him, the feeling of being so full and so undone. Harry’s cock keeps dragging over Eggsy’s prostate, the weight of his body pressing Eggsy to the mattress intoxicating. The power doesn't come from speed—just Harry.

The sweet burn each time Harry sinks fully into him makes it harder to breathe, makes Eggsy's ability to hang onto Harry weaker and weaker.

Harry mouths wetly at Eggsy's throat, grazes his teeth across his shoulder and groans. “Eggsy,” Harry sighs. He fucks into Eggsy a little harder. “My beautiful boy, I want you to come for me.”

Eggsy shivers, almost screaming. Harry's thrusting into him in earnest now, though there's still a leash on his control that hasn't broken just yet. Eggsy's not sure he can call this love-making anymore, but God, he feels so loved.

“Is, ah! Is th-that an order, Daddy?” Eggsy manages to say between choked gasps and pointed thrusts.

“A request, my boy. Please, come for me,” Harry entreats, turning his head and kissing Eggsy's neck. He slips his arms out from under Eggsy and rests on his forearms. He doesn't even break his stride, just keeps faithfully fucking his boy as he settles his weight and presses their foreheads together. “Please come for me.”

“Daddy,”Eggsy yelps, heat leaking from the bottom of his stomach down into his hips. His cock jolts, pressed tight between his and Harry's stomachs.

“Eggsy… darling,” Harry groans, and he tilts his head down and looks into Eggsy's eyes. “Come.”

Eggsy's cock starts spurting hot and sticky come all over them before Eggsy even has the wherewithal to cry out. His second orgasm is hotter and deeper than the first, tearing through him as it climbs and then crests. But then he's screaming, bucking his hips up into Harry's thrusts as he keeps fucking his over-sensitive hole.

Sparks burst at the edges of Eggsy's vision, and he would slip happily into the darkness if he didn't have Harry looking down at him with so much unbearable love. Every bone in Eggsy's body feels sharp, his muscles tight, and he's dying for a solid breath of air.

“Fuck, oh fuck, Daddy, yes,”Eggsy chokes, running shaking hands over Harry's shoulders.

Despite leaking for so long, Eggsy's cock is still dribbling spunk across his stomach, and Harry makes a broken sound above him as the slick smears between them.

“Oh, Eggsy. Oh, God, I'm—” Harry starts, brows furrowing. There's sweat slicking his fringe to his forehead, and his mouth is slack as he stares at Eggsy like he’s coming to life in his hands.

Eggsy nods, dizzy but desperate and on the edge of blacking out. “Please, Daddy. Come inside me, come—oh, Daddy. Come in me.”

Harry shuts his eyes, making a sound dangerously close to a whimper before he ducks his head and claims Eggsy's mouth again.

The kiss is fire, singeing the edges of Eggsy's sanity. He threads his fingers into Harry's damp locks and tugs, forcing Harry to kiss him deeper, rougher. Harry's cock is grazing his prostate, making Eggsy keen as his cock is milked.

Eggsy knows the minute Harry starts coming. His hips stutter and his tongue grows sloppy against Eggsy's, more teeth and lips and moaning breaths.

“That's it, Daddy, give it to me,” Eggsy sighs when Harry pulls back to gasp.

Harry makes another pained sound, eyes bleary and unfocused as he falls forward, just the slightest bit, as if his arms are giving out. He touches Eggsy's cheek, smooths his hair back, tries to kiss him and fails as he groans and quivers again.

Eggsy smiles blissfully as he tugs Harry closer, bringing him in deep as the final waves of his orgasm subside. It leaves Harry panting, drawing heavy breaths that rock his whole body when he hugs Eggsy to him, kissing his boy’s neck.

He lavishes the marks he left on Eggsy with warm kisses and breathless laughs, fits his fingers into the grooves of Eggsy's ribs and drags him impossibly closer.

“I love you, I love you.”

For a minute, it's hard to tell who says it, who keeps saying it as kisses are pressed to heartbeats and limbs clutch weakly to limbs.

Then Harry laughs, and Eggsy wriggles. They were both saying it—together.

“My darling boy. My Eggsy,” Harry sighs, kissing Eggsy's forehead.

“Harry…” Eggsy breathes, and Harry pulls back and smiles at him. There's Eggsy's sun—there's Harry Hart in all his magnificent glory, smiling at Eggsy brightly with that unfathomable love.

Harry curves his hand against Eggsy's cheek. “So, it's back to that, is it? I'm not your Daddy anymore?”

He says it playfully, softly, but there's an earnest truth in the question. Whatever Eggsy needs, Harry will give it to him. Even if that means that this one time, this once in their lives, was enough.

Eggsy curls his hand over Harry's, brings Harry's palm down so he can kiss softly at it. “No… that's the beauty of it.”

Harry quirks a brow at him.

“You are my Daddy… and you're Harry, too…” Eggsy closes his eyes, listens to the deep, steadying breath Harry takes on top of him. “You're everything I'll ever need… way more than I deserve.”

“Now, now—what have I said about that kind of talk?” Harry scolds, then kisses Eggsy softly on the lips.

“You know, I don't think I'll ever deserve you, Harry…” Eggsy whispers, eyes burning again. “But… I think I'm starting to see why you think I do.”

At that moment, Harry smiles a very particular smile that Eggsy hasn't seen before, and it stops his heart behind his ribs.

“Darling…” Harry whispers reverently, touching his thumb to the corner of Eggsy's mouth like he's never seen him before.

Eggsy is pinned by the weight of Harry's gaze, the dangerous intensity of it, the meaning something more than Eggsy can fathom.

Harry kisses him softly, fleetingly, and then slowly pulls out.

Eggsy shivers and gasps, his body having cooled enough that Harry's cum leaking out of him is molten.

“I'll be right back,” Harry whispers, leaning over Eggsy long enough to kiss the bullet scar on his abdomen. Then he retreats to the bathroom, and Eggsy melts into the mattress without him.

Eggsy feels so sated, so exhausted and warm inside, and he stares up at the glittering paint of the ceiling and just breathes.

Thinking back to the events of the morning, Eggsy snorts at himself. Feeling rather foolish, he wonders how he could have thought Harry would hate him for anything.

When Harry returns with two damp flannels, Eggsy rolls onto his side, hugs his pillow, and grins. When Harry looks up at him, Eggsy winks.

“Cheeky thing,” Harry sighs, patting Eggsy's thigh for him to roll over back into his back.

He cleans Eggsy's stomach and thighs with one, then drags the other washcloth all over him until Eggsy feels clean and refreshed.

Harry takes care cleaning Eggsy's hole, the muscle puffy and tender from the thorough, albeit slow, fucking. He cleans himself from Eggsy gently, then excuses himself once more.

When Harry comes back, he's holding another flannel, a jar of some kind of lotion, a glass of water, and a small bottle of pills. He sets the two containers and glass aside, then tends to the red marks staining Eggsy's pert arse.

He lays the towel gently over Eggsy's arse, and the warmth of it has him jolting sharply before sighing in relief.

“Darling?”

“Feels good… It feels good, Daddy. I'm alright.”

“Good. Just for a minute, until it gets cool. Let me know, alright?” Harry tells him warmly.

Eggsy nods, and then Harry brushes his fingers soothingly up and down Eggsy's back, raising shivers in the wake of his touch.

Eggsy feels sated and drugged, Harry's touch flooding him with wave after wave of intoxicating warmth. He feels so safe, so ridiculously happy and comforted with Harry close to him.

It nearly drags Eggsy down into slumber, but then the rag grows cold and he reaches back and taps Harry's thigh.

“Daddy…” He mutters, and Harry hums and removes the towel.

Then he uncaps the jar of salve and Eggsy smells it immediately.

“Wos that?” Eggsy says, slurring in his nearly unconscious state.

“Lotion. Aloe Vera and vitamin E.” Harry shakes the pill bottle. “Arnica.”

Eggsy hums.

Harry smiles, and Eggsy takes the glass and the pills and swallows them down. He then drains more than half the glass before Harry lightly scolds him.

“You'll get a tummy ache if you drink too fast.”

“Sorry, Daddy…” Eggsy says, then plops back down against the mattress so Harry can finish his care.

And God, he takes such good care of Eggsy. It feels amazing, to be exposed to this kind of love, this kind of attention. Eggsy has felt it before, but not like this.

Eggsy feels so content he doesn't even want to sleep. He wants to stay in this summery haze as long as possible. The sound of rain outside is a distant memory to him, blurred out by Harry's breath and his warmth and Eggsy's own heartbeat.

But then Harry swipes two fingers through the white cream and then dapples it across Eggsy's arse. The effect is instant.

When Eggsy sucks in a deep breath, Harry pauses. “Does it hurt?”

Eggsy hums, shaking his head. “Didn't hurt that whole time. Like a cut you don't notice. Now that you’re givin’ it attention…”

“It'll feel better soon. And I promise, if I don't take care of you now, you'll be a tad sore tomorrow.”

Eggsy grumbles. “I don't mind bein’ sore. Not if it's from you.”

“Ah, there's my mouthy darling. Where were you while I was doing this to you?” Harry hums teasingly, smoothing the lotion into a particularly tender spot of red flesh.

Hugging his pillow more tightly, Eggsy sighs heavily. “Otherwise occupied…”

“Ah. I see,”  Harry says thoughtfully, and then runs his hand from the curve of Eggsy’s arse up to the small of his back. He digs his thumb into the tender muscle there and presses. “There we are, my love.”

“Hn, don’t stop,” Eggsy says, wriggling back against the touch.

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s quite alright, darling boy. All I want is to take care of you. Always.”

“You do… you take care of me so well,” Eggsy says, groaning when Harry starts rubbing down his back. He finds all the tender muscles and knots and aches and brushes them away with his palms and thumbs, and Eggsy eventually finds the strength to roll over and stop Harry.

“Had enough?”

“Of that. Just wanna hold you,” Eggsy admits, and Harry obliges with a smile. But not before reminding Eggsy of what happened last time they tried to sleep naked.

With a roll of his eyes, Eggsy allows Harry to dress him in a sleep shirt and pants, then watches Harry dress himself.

He climbs under the duvet beside Eggsy and tugs it up around them, smoothing his boy’s hair back and pressing kisses to his forehead and eyelids while Eggsy wraps his limbs around Harry and sighs contentedly.

Eggsy touches the small scars littered across Harry’s back, the ones he could find blind, and exhales heavily against Harry’s throat.

Harry makes a quiet sound of interest, and Eggsy tangles one hand into Harry’s hair and tugs.

“I love you, Harry,” Eggsy says, not really knowing why, not really needing a reason.

Harry sighs against the crown of his head. “I know, darling. I love you, too. Thank you… thank you so much for loving me.”

And Eggsy feels so safe. So safe and loved and taken care of, and suddenly Harry’s warmth makes his throat tight.

Eggsy whimpers, chokes on a tiny sound, and then his eyes sting. He sniffles, holds Harry tighter, and whimpers.

Harry jolts. “Eggsy?”

Eggsy shakes his head, now shivering with the effort it takes to not full-blown sob. “It’s nothing. It’s—I’m fine. It’s nothing, Daddy.”

But Eggsy keeps crying, starts crying harder, and his shoulders shake and his body curls in in itself. And then Eggsy Unwin is having an outright bawl in Harry's arms.

Harry curls around him, pulls him close, and kisses his shoulder and the top of his head.

“Sweet darling, whatever is the matter? Did I do something wrong? Oh, my love, please, tell me what's wrong,” Harry pleads, and his voice is so soft and full of worry that Eggsy cries harder.

“I'm so—s—sorry. It's just I love you. I love you s—so m—m—much, Harry. F—fuck,” Eggsy chokes, and Harry sits him up and pulls Eggsy into his lap, where he's safe.

“I love you, too, darling. You know that.”

“I know. I guess that's why I'm crying.” Eggsy breaks off, keening and burying his face into Harry's neck so he can sob pathetically. He clings to the fleece shirt Harry's wearing and lets himself exhale sob after sob.

“Eggsy, talk to me. Come now, I have you,” Harry says gently.

Eggsy takes a shuddering breath, sucking in as much air as he can before he speaks. “You take such good care of me. You make me forget. You make me feel safe. Like Dean never happened—like I'm not filthy, not fucked up.”

Harry stiffens and pets one hand through Eggsy's hair, the other smoothing down his back. “Oh, my love…”

“I just… I shoulda done somethin’. It's my fault… It's my fault I'm like this—why my mum is always gonna have bad memories. Fuckin’ always gonna be an ex-rentboy and you’re always gonna deserve better,” Eggsy whimpers, choking, hating that he can't stop crying.

“Eggsy,” Harry says brokenly, raggedly, and Eggsy jolts back and looks into Harry's eyes. “Please… don't. Don't speak that way, my love; it was not your fault. I love you, and I will take care of you—always. You're not filthy, you're not fucked up,” Harry stops, cupping Eggsy's face in one hand.

Eggsy blinks up at him, bleary-eyed and struggling for breath.

And Harry is staring at him like it’s Harry's own fault that Eggsy is saying these things.

“You… are mine. And I love you. My perfectly reckless boy, my god.” Harry shakes his head. “Eggsy, tell me again how today made you feel. Tell me what it meant to you.”

Eggsy doesn't understand why Harry’s asking this of him, but he obliges. “You… you made me feel loved. And taken care of. You made me feel safe and looked after—no one has ever made me feel the things you gave me today. I… Harry, what—”

And Harry kisses him. Soft and warm and comforting. When Harry breaks the kiss, Eggsy looks up at him again, and he's astounded to find Harry's eyes are wet.

He's… crying.

“Eggsy, I want you to always feel loved. I want to always take care of you. You are mine—my only one. I have told you before, your past does not and never will define you, nor will it tarnish the brightness of your heart to me. My darling, whatever has happened to you before, everything that has made you feel unworthy of love or has made you think it was your fault… it wasn't. And it will never happen again. Because I'm here—and I'm going to protect you.”

Despite the strength of his words, Harry's voice trembles softly, and despite the strength of the man holding him in his arms, Eggsy can't ignore that Harry is crying.

Harry sniffles and then laughs the sound of it off. “But promises must be demonstrated. I will prove to you that I'll take care of you, and I will make you see, my love…” Harry touches his forehead to Eggsy's. “I'll make you see that you deserve love.”

Eggsy, overwhelmed, drops forward, his arms fitting against Harry's chest, his face against Harry's neck. And he cries some more.

Harry rocks him and shushes him gently, and then offers Eggsy more of the water from the bedside table.

And Eggsy can hear that Harry is still crying, too. He can feel the tremble in his usually stern countenance, can hear the wet in his voice when he draws in deep breaths.

They just hold onto each other and cry for a while, and Eggsy hurts all over but he's never felt quite this good, this whole. Harry doesn't even stop him from crying; he just lets it happen, as if Eggsy's tears are nothing to be ashamed of.

But Harry's tears cause him physical pain; his eye injury ensures that. He must be hurting so badly right now, and it makes Eggsy hurt even more. He pulls back, cupping Harry's face in his hands so he can kiss his damp eyelids and cheeks. He pays gentle attention to the scar tissue marring Harry’s skin, dragging his lips across it with a slow breath.

Harry makes a sound softer than a sigh, yanking Eggsy back into his arms and burying his face in Eggsy's hair.

There’s a scuffle down the hall, and nasally, flat-faced breathing, and then JB is hopping onto the bed and snorting his way across the mattress to nuzzle at Harry’s arm where it’s circled around Eggsy’s waist.

Eggsy sniffles. “There’s my boy. Da’s fine, he’s not cryin’. It’s alright,” he lies, petting JB’s head as Harry scratches at the folds of skin along JB’s neck.

“What a good boy. So concerned for your father,” Harry says, and JB looks up at him and snorts wetly. “Go on, then. To the foot of the bed with you—I have this under control.”

Taking Harry’s word for it, JB proceeds to mosey along to the foot of the bed, circles a few times, and then plops down and falls promptly unconscious.

Eggsy then allows himself to be pulled back into Harry’s embrace

“Hold onto me, my love,” Harry says after what could be minutes or hours, and Eggsy obeys.

Harry leans across the bed and grabs his mobile, unlocking it with his thumb and then tapping something into a text bar—Eggsy doesn't see what or to whom.

But a minute later Harry's phone trills loudly and Harry answers without ceasing his gentle rocking of Eggsy in his lap or the soft brushing of his hand up and down Eggsy's back.

“There's no arguing this. Unless a matter of national security arises, I don't even want a good morning text from you, Merlin,” Harry says coolly, and Eggsy perks up curiously.

“Merlin?” He says groggily, voice rough from crying.

Harry hushes him. “Just for tomorrow—perhaps the weekend. I need some time alone with Eggsy. I—no Merlin. I have to take care of him. You may recall you once told me how he was my responsibility. He is in need of extensive care at this time.”

Eggsy can barely hear what it is Merlin is saying, but he doesn't sound outright irritated, or even angry.

Harry makes a disgruntled noise. “I am not crying.”

Eggsy hiccups at that, smiling.

So proud, his Harry.

“Never mind that. Just make sure we are not disturbed unless the sky is falling. Thank you, Merlin.” Harry sets his phone back down and tugs Eggsy closer, adjusting him on his lap so that Eggsy fits deeper into his arms. “We are not to be disturbed for the remainder of the weekend. Whatever you want, I'll do it for you.”

Eggsy sits back, lacing his fingers behind Harry's neck so he can smile at him. “You mean it?”

Harry smiles, brushing the backs of his knuckles against Eggsy's cheek. “Of course, dear one.”

“I… what did you have in mind?”

“Anything you want. Just ask for it and I will have it done.”

Eggsy worries his lip between his teeth, drops his gaze down to Harry's mouth. “Anything, Daddy?”

Harry's lids droop the slightest bit at that, the invitation behind the question, the deeper desire Eggsy has shining through.

“Yes, darling boy,” Harry says, and Eggsy hugs him again.

“Could we just stay here all weekend? Just like this?”

Harry laughs. “It's hardly good for your back to stay in such a position for so long, lovely. Perhaps we can take a walk with JB, or go have lunch together. Somewhere small—simple.”

Eggsy twists his fingers in Harry's hair. “And… I can call you Daddy… can't I?”

Harry kisses the top of his head. “Of course. Whenever you’re comfortable with it. We can have days set aside for it, or if you ever just feel like saying it…”

Eggsy nods softly, then kisses Harry's throat. “But I can call you Harry, too… right? You’re my Harry… before you’re my Daddy.”

Harry hums, smiling broader. It's another quiet admission from Eggsy that Harry is more than enough for him. “You can call me whatever you like, as long as I can call you mine.”

“Always. I'm always gonna be yours, Harry,” Eggsy breathes, the weight of the words dragging him deeper into Harry's embrace.

“You'd better mean that. Cheeky brat—whatever am I going to do with you?”

Eggsy curls up into Harry's embrace, lets himself feel drugged with the weight of affection bleeding between them. “Love me…”

“I do,” Harry promises.

Harry sits back slightly, leaning against the headboard. Eggsy follows the motion, careful not to crush Harry until Harry realises that he’s doing it. A quick pinch to the side and Eggsy’s legs are stretching out and he’s resting all of his weight onto Harry, who cuddles him appreciatively for it.

Eggsy breathes deep, feels the moment when his tears stop, that heavy, almost painful satisfaction and peace that comes from decompressing. He nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck and sighs. “Harry?” he says very, very softly.

Harry hums quietly, as if he’s already fallen asleep, though one hand is still playing with Eggsy’s hair, and the other is still tracing circles across his back.

Eggsy huffs. “Daddy,” he whispers more sharply.

Harry’s small laugh ruffles his hair, and Eggsy grins despite himself. “Yes, darling?”

Chewing on his lip, Eggsy lifts his gaze to the rainy evening beyond their window, and he sighs. “...One more.”

A kiss warms the crown of Eggsy’s head, and JB chuffs at his feet. “I love you. My darling boy.” Harry sighs warmly, arms curling around Eggsy possessively; protectively. “Mine.”

And Eggsy knows no matter what he was, what he’s been, and what he might become, he is Harry’s. And that is all he needs.