It’s been a long, arduous day of training.
Eggsy never thought he’d say that he’s reluctant to get behind the wheel of a car again, but after the paces Merlin’s put him through, he’s ready to be driven rather than drive for a while. Well into the third week of high-intensity course-driving training, Eggsy knows he’s learning and improving a lot, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s mentally and physically exhausted by the end of each day. His body takes as much of a beating as the car does; there’s a lot of g-force in fast turns, rapid accelerations and slamming on brakes - not to mention that last week he'd learned how to crash safely. Even without visible bruising, his muscles are strained and his brain fried by the time he's parked back in the hangar and dismissed to the showers.
He'd gotten to try out the high-octane rocket thrusters today, though, so that’s something.
He shoots a quick text to Roxy and Harry as he shuffles away from the parking bay to the locker room, relaying his course stats for the day - to the former because she’s at a stakeout in Hong Kong, and could use the friendly banter and one-upping to pass the time - to the latter because even through short, minimal texts, Harry's approval warms him to the core. His phone chirps with their replies and he grins, shucking his fire-retardant jumpsuit and the sweat-soaked t-shirt beneath it, followed quickly by his pants and socks. Bless Kingsman for being just this side of indulgent with everything - including the gents' showers.
The heat and pulsing pressure of the water feels good on Eggsy's tired muscles; it’s equally nice to rinse away the layer of grime and sweat on his skin, the smudges of grease and the acrid smell of exhaust and burnt rubber. He closes his eyes as he lathers his hair, resisting the urge to lean against the cool, sweating tile. Thank fuck he’s more than halfway through the training, well on his way to being certified for automobile-related field missions.
The water never runs cold at Kingsman, and Eggsy lingers under the spray of the shower longer than he probably should, letting the ache in his muscles unwind. It’s with reluctance that he turns off the jets, reaching blindly for his towel and stepping out of the steaming stall, skin pink and fingers starting to prune.
A night in with JB and Harry and a film - that sounds perfect, Eggsy muses, as he tugs on pants and jeans. Maybe a spy film; they both enjoy nitpicking and complaining about the ridiculous antics and unrealistic machinations of the Connery-era Bond flicks. He smiles as he towels his hair and then pulls on a fresh t-shirt, wrinkling his nose as it clings to the damp skin of his back.
Eggsy shuffles out of the gents' lockers with his trainers untied, sweatshirt slung over one shoulder as he continues to drag the towel through his hair, combing it to the side with his fingers in an attempt to look at least somewhat composed for when he walks back through the shop and out onto London's streets.
"I've got a surprise for you."
Harry's voice cuts through Eggsy's thoughts and he looks up in surprise; Harry’s leaning casually against a wall outside the lockers, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed, but it’s clear he must have been waiting for Eggsy. Impeccably dressed in a pinstripe suit and tie, too, despite the late hour.
“A surprise,” Eggsy repeats, eyebrows quirked, intrigued. He crosses his arms, leaving the towel slung across the back of his neck, cocking his hip to the side.
“Yes,” Harry says. “You’ve been doing quite well on your training, from the scores you sent along earlier. Merlin says you’re a fast learner and that he hasn’t much left to teach you on the matter.”
"Thank god for that," Eggsy nearly rolls his eyes. "Put me through the ringer today, he did. Be glad he's returned me in one piece."
"Indeed I am," Harry pushes away from the wall and saunters towards him, Oxfords clicking loudly in the quiet of the empty corridor. It’s late, and the Kingsman base is practically empty; there is no one to see Harry lean in and press a kiss under Eggsy's ear where his jaw and neck meet, but it makes him flush anyways. Then again, Harry always has that effect on him.
"But there's no need to dodge the compliment," Harry continues, pulling away to give Eggsy a smile that’s somewhere between pleased and proud, and entirely adoring. It makes Eggsy’s stomach do a little flip. "Your circuit times are quite impressive, as is your mastery of adapting under pressure. I think you gave Merlin a bit of a scare when you intentionally rolled your car with the rocket boost, but it was effective for completing your objective all the same. Well done, you."
"Landed back on all four tires just fine." Eggsy smirks, elbowing Harry playfully in the side. “Cheers, though; but you should’ve seen me the night before you sprung me free. Back before Oxfords, not brogues.”
“In that horrid dayglo-yellow Impreza, you mean?” Harry grins at Eggsy’s raised eyebrows. “Traffic cameras. I was quite impressed, though I won’t ask how or why you learned to drive backwards in the first place.”
Eggsy shrugs. “Doin’ me good now, though - Merlin’s trial courses are fucking tough. And he likes to pull shit in the middle, like disabling the brakes or headlights or something, or popping a tire so I’m on three wheels. If he ain’t want me to pull a stunt, he shouldn't have started it.”
“The more you experience in training, the less that should surprise you in the field; it’s all preparation, you know,” Harry gently cups Eggsy's elbow to turn him, leading him down the hallway. "And your hard work has not gone unnoticed. Hence - your surprise.”
“Don’t know what you’ve got in store,” Eggsy says, following Harry’s lead and sauntering down the corridor, shuffling a bit with his laces untied, “but I ain’t complaining, ‘s long as we don’t have to walk far. I think there’s a K somewhere on my arse from the seat, though why Merlin’s got the Kingsman monogram on that training car is beyond me.”
Harry laughs, and reaches down to cup Eggsy’s arse for a quick squeeze - as if ensuring it’s still in one piece. “I suppose I can check it later,” he says airily, and Eggsy’s grin unfurls into a smirk.
“But that’s not the surprise,” Eggsy says - it’s not quite a question, and Harry gives him a cryptic smile in reply.
“No, it isn’t,” he says, and leads Eggsy along through the network of hallways.
It’s taken some time, even after his time in agent recruitment training, for Eggsy to learn the whole layout of the Kingsman manor and its maze-like underground corridors and rooms. It doesn’t help that many of the base's hallways looked the same: all gleaming tile, poured concrete; brushed metal, neutral paint, soft fluorescence. Compared with the classic gilded opulence of the manor above, the base is stark and a little militaristic, and it makes it that much harder to find one's way around.
There are still some places Eggsy hasn’t seen, some doors that his access card or palm-print can’t open yet because he doesn’t have clearance, or because everyone is on a need-to-know basis. Merlin has a strict standing order not to let the agents into his personal R&D lab - even Harry concedes that’s probably a good idea. Still - Eggsy remembers, at least, where most of these doors are that he can’t open. Cats and curiosity, and all that.
To his delight, Harry leads him towards one of those mysterious, enticing doors now - well, Eggsy’s pretty sure that’s where they are headed. They stroll at the leisurely pace that Harry sets, casually slow despite Eggsy's growing anticipation - at exactly that pace probably just so Eggsy will be vibrating with excitement by the time they arrive, Eggsy imagines, because Harry loves surprising people and seeing their raw, natural reactions. It’s amazingly charming as well as rather frustrating, as the man's lover. They chat, aimless and casual, about whatever subjects come to mind - Roxy’s trip to Hong Kong to deal with a particularly nasty Triad smuggler; JB’s current obsession with Harry’s new slippers; whether or not Merlin would agree to installing EMP or signal-jamming tech into the handles of their umbrellas. It’s comfortable and calming, to be at Harry’s side, relaxing in his presence at the end of a hard day. At the same time, there’s a growing buzz of anticipation in Eggsy’s veins with every step they take.
Two lefts, and then a right, past countless doors and hallways that peel away from theirs, heading into various parts of the underground base; yeah, they are definitely headed towards the southernmost door Eggsy’s never been through, and he tries not to grin lest Harry figure out that he has some idea of where they’re going. It doesn’t quite work; he glances up at Harry to find the man smirking back at him, and his ears redden.
He still has no idea what’s behind the door, so Harry can count on that being part of the surprise, at least.
They turn down a final corridor and there it is at the end - a plain, brushed-metal door that looks like any of the others, a palm-activated lock off to one side and a tiny camera nestled in the top of the door frame, pointing down at them. Harry doesn’t even give it a second glance; he looks over his shoulder at Eggsy with a smirk as he approaches the palm-pad, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with an air of eager smugness that’s all too endearing.
Harry presses his open palm to the screen and it blinks as it scans the surface of his skin, each crease and fold and fingerprint. It takes only a moment, and soon enough it turns green and the lock in the door thunks open, heavy magnets disengaging so they can pass through. Already Eggsy’s pulse jumps with excitement; whatever Harry’s surprise is, it’s going to be good, he can feel it.
Harry opens and holds the door for him, smirking; it takes an effort on Eggsy’s part to maintain eye contact with him and saunter towards the open door, rather than rushing forward and looking at the contents of the room beyond as he so desperately wants. Harry arches an eyebrow at him and follows him through the doorway, the magnetic lock sliding heavily closed behind them.
There’s a shallow flight of stairs and a wall as the hallway turns left; Eggsy darts down the steps with light feet, fingers tapping against his thighs as he gets closer and closer to his surprise. There’s a faint chill in the air, like there’s a larger room just beyond, and it makes a shiver run down Eggsy’s spine. His ears strain to catch anything out of the ordinary, but there’s nothing beyond the faint high-pitched hum of the lights overhead. All of his senses are on high alert, heart close to pounding just from knowing that he’s on the edge of finding his surprise.
He turns the corner and his mouth drops open, eyes wide as he takes it all in.
It’s a car hangar - a car park, not unlike the one he’d left the training car in less than an hour before at the end of his training day - but it’s not just any cars parked here, under the high warehouse ceilings and lit by wide, bright pools of light.
It’s the Kingsman fleet of sports cars.
The row closest to them is a line of elegant Jags, one model after another in gunmetal grey, slick black, glossy white. Next to them are Bentleys, polished to an obscene shine, and several Minis - including a classic in candy-apple red. There’s at least three rows, cars upon cars upon cars, different makes and models and colors and ages. They’re all neatly and precisely parked, grouped by type, a perfect spread of chrome and paint so shiny and clean that it looks wet. Eggsy swallows, rapt. It’s a gorgeous collection. Whatever an agent could want or need for a mission, in terms of an automobile, Kingsman clearly has it at the ready - and in a selection of different colors, too.
Eggsy hears Harry come up behind him, but can’t take his eyes off the display of straight-up automobile heaven in front of him, spread out like a centerfold. If he’s honest with himself, the sight of the cars doesn’t make his jeans tight, but it’s a close thing. It’s one of the most beautiful, pornographic things he’s ever seen - perhaps second or third to Harry himself, Eggsy thinks absent-mindedly to himself, still frozen in his tracks at the sight of the fleet of cars.
“Thought you’d like this,” Harry murmurs in his ear, placing a gentle hand at the small of his back, which is still damp from his shower. In the cool air of the warehouse Harry’s hand feels over-warm, and Eggsy nearly shudders. “Go ahead, you can get closer.”
Harry’s touch brings him out of his amazed trance; Eggsy looks up and over his shoulder to meet Harry’s eyes and grins, delighted.
“Fuckin’ hell, Harry,” Eggsy says, taking a step closer to the cars, careful and reverent as he approaches them. “I been training on a bloody hole-riddled Mazda all week, and you’ve had these stashed away?”
“Well,” Harry raises his eyebrows in lieu of a shrug, smiling at Eggsy’s obvious glee, “to be fair, you haven’t passed the automobile mission training - and I’d rather these stayed without holes, for the time being. You should even really be seeing this for another week yet.”
Eggsy passes the first row of cars and strolls down the second, Harry trailing behind him, amused. He ducks down to inspect the rims on the slick black-and-yellow McLaren, resisting the urge to run his hands down its curves. It’s a sexy little thing - they all are, Eggsy will readily admit - and it almost pains him to think that these cars are sent out on missions. He’s heard tales of the previous Lancelot from Percival, and decides then and there that he’ll be better to the cars than Roxy’s predecessor had been - which isn’t a high bar, considering.
He catches a glance at himself in the reflection of the dark paint, polished to a perfect shine - and smiles at himself before finding the warped shape of Harry over his shoulder. Eggsy resolutely tries to tamp down on the flush that’s back on his cheeks, but no doubt Harry has noticed it already. He can’t help the fact that he’s caught up in the excitement of it - Eggsy’s always been a car kind of guy.
Eggsy stands, turning away from the McLaren and tucking his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels and whistling, low and impressed. “For the time being, eh? Means I’m gonna get into one of these someday?” Eggsy can already imagine himself at the wheel of one of these - if it was Harry’s aim to motivate him into doing better the last few weeks of his training, this certainly has done the trick.
“Someday?” Harry chuckles, and Eggsy blinks as Harry holds up a jangling key-ring for him to see, wiggling it so that the keys chime like bells - and they very well could be, for all it sounds like Christmas to Eggsy. He can feel his eyes widen.
“No fucking way,” Eggsy beams, lips breaking into a wide smile.
“It’s not quite what you’re thinking,” Harry says, smirking and taking a step closer, palming the keys and tucking them back into his suit pocket, “I’ll be driving, for one.”
“‘S all right,” Eggsy shrugs, still grinning, “Been driving more than my fair share today, anyways. You know I trust you at the wheel.”
Harry chuckles and shakes his head at the cheeky winky that Eggsy throws him, and continues to follow him as Eggsy peruses the line of cars.
“Where are the Aston Martins, eh?” Eggsy waggles his eyebrows at Harry, who wrinkles his nose briefly at Eggsy’s chuckling.
“Well, we can’t be too obvious, now can we?” he says, and Eggsy outright laughs, gesturing to the Kingsman logo that has been stitched into the steering wheel of the car he’s peeking into. It’s in a subtle black-on-black, but to the agent in the front seat - and any passenger - it would be as clear as day.
“Not obvious at all,” Eggsy quirks a grin, and leans back to shuffle further down the line of cars. Tan, black - even red interiors, on some of the flashier Ferraris, especially the vintage ones - the Kingsman fleet has every variation possible. There are even a few that have the steering wheel on the left side, like American cars, and a few that are electric - notably the Tesla Model S, a stunning black thing that positively shouts luxury, perched at the end of its row like a knight overlooking pawns. If, y’know, pawns were a slick little posse of white and silver BMWs.
Eggsy can’t help himself; he browses, thankful of Harry’s patience, eyes wide as he looks over the cars like a thirsty man studying bottles of wine. Some men like clothes - Eggsy knows Harry’s one of those; for all he professes to like all luxuries in life, his heart is with the rich fabrics and subtle, elegant stitching and perfect tailoring of a bespoke suit. Some men like gadgets - Merlin’s prey to that vice, quite clearly - but Eggsy’s a car man, and he knows he could spend hours poring over the details of each vehicle, even without the privilege of getting behind the wheel or under the hood.
Eggsy whistles appreciatively when he peeks in at the interior of the jet-black Lotus Evora, all supple dark leather and gleaming chrome and Kingsman logos stitched into the seats in muted gold. Even the yellow-and-green Lotus logo in the center of the steering wheel has been carefully inlaid with a Kingsman K, and despite the details it looks like it’s never been touched, pristine and perfect inside.
“Looks like a dream to ride in, eh?” Eggsy pulls himself to standing, rapping a knuckle gently on the window’s glass - he wouldn’t dare leave a smudge on the waxed-perfect paint job. God knows Merlin - or Harry, for that matter - would make him rub it clean again. He leans in and exhales on the glass, rubs it clean with the dangling edge of his towel for good measure.
“Would you like to find out?” Harry says, and Eggsy’s eyes go wide. He doesn’t have time to reply; Harry strides around to the driver’s side next to Eggsy, nudging him out of the way so he can get the door open and gesturing for him to go ‘round to the passenger side. “Come on, we don’t have all night to play. You’ve got training in the morning and I shan’t have you in bed too late.”
Eggsy laughs, delighted, and slips into the low seat with ease, settling into the cushioned leather that feels like it was tailor-made to his body. He chuckles to himself again - hah, tailor-made.
“These things’ve all been outfitted by Merlin, ain’t they?” he asks, while he’s thinking of it. He does up his buckle as Harry slides into the seat next to him, slotting the key into place and letting the car roar to life, the engine settling into a gorgeous, rumbling purr. The lights and needles come to life, twitching upward as Harry tests the pedals, warming up the car and adjusting it to his liking. Eggsy wiggles in his seat, unable to contain his excitement, glancing over the instrument panel and the dashboard to see if he can spot and spy-related enhancements that may have been made to turn the Evora into a proper Kingsman vehicle.
“Yes,” Harry says, “though we won’t be using any of the modifications tonight, I daresay. This is just a leisurely drive to reward you for your hard work.”
“Just a leisurely drive, eh?” Eggsy raises his eyebrows, reaches over the arm-rest to place his hand on Harry’s suit-clad thigh. He’s warm underneath Eggsy’s hand, and Harry sends him a smirk and raises his own eyebrows behind the rims of his glasses.
“Well, perhaps not leisurely,” he says, and grips the gear-shift, confident and sure, nocks it forward so the car slides smoothly away from its brethren and out into the lane, towards the bay doors that roll up automatically as they approach.
Harry’s a great driver and the car moves effortlessly under his hands, a tamed beast just waiting to be let loose. Eggsy can feel its power, though they aren’t moving faster than a brisk running pace; Harry takes them out of the hanger, around the copse of trees that hides the entrance from sight of the Kingsman manor, and down the long pebbled drive in front.
It’s quiet save for the smooth rumble of the engine and the crushed stone beneath the tires as they wind their way away from the manor, towards the track encircled by hedgerows that makes up the furthest expanse of the Kingsman property; it’s where Eggsy’s been training these past weeks, and it’s not somewhere he’s looking forward to being in the morning - but now, being driven rather than in the driver’s seat himself, it’s rather nice. Harry works the car perfectly, shifts gear in synchronicity with the Evora’s sleek movements, the sweeping beams of the headlights illuminating the dark asphalt in front of them as they turn on to the driving course. It’s bare of obstacles now - and crushed glass, Eggsy’s thankful to note - and Harry brings them up to the white-reflective starting line before stopping, idle, and looking in Eggsy’s direction.
“What do you say, darling?” he asks, playing up the posh accent to make Eggsy grin - which he does. “Fancy a bit of a go-around?”
“‘S long as you don’t go easy,” Eggsy smirks, “Ain’t want no Sunday drive from you or this car, Harry Hart.”
“Very well,” Harry says, adjusting his grip on the gear-shift and shifting in his seat, pushing his glasses to sit further up the bridge of his nose before he returns his eyes to the open track in front of them. There’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, and Eggsy’s hand squeezes Harry’s thigh, reflexively. “It isn’t Sunday, anyways.”
The Lotus blazes to life with an enthusiastic thunder of its engine, jumping forward so quickly that Eggsy’s pushed back into his seat from the force of it, barking a laugh in surprise. Harry swiftly shifts gears from first to second to third all in a matter of seconds as the car speeds up, and he blazes around the first turn in a perfectly-controlled rush of rubber and steel.
Eggsy whoops and laughs, delighted; in the glance he spares towards Harry he finds that he’s outright grinning, too, hand clenched around the stick as he slows into a turn, then presses the pedal to the floor to speed out of it, turning the Evora on a dime. The sharp curves toss them back and forth in their seats - Eggsy’s long since had the importance of the Kingsman-improved seatbelts drilled into him by Merlin - but despite the ache of his bruises against the straps and the G-forces batting him to and fro, Eggsy’s having the time of his life. Fuck, Harry can drive - he masterfully guides the Evora through the curves and gets her into fifth gear on the straightaway without hesitating in the slightest - and Eggsy can admit to himself that as attractive as the car itself is, Harry behind the wheel - competent, confident, sharp - is bloody hot.
Harry and the Evora make quick work of the course circuit; the car eats up the pavement, roaring like a thing alive when Harry revs the engine and works the pedals, pushes the car to limits and speeds that Eggsy hasn’t even worked up to in his training. Eggsy’s heart pounds in his ears, over the heady growling of the engine as they shoot forwards, darting lightning-quick down the track.
There’s not even a flicker of the thought of slowing down as they near the reflective starting line again; Harry takes them for a second adrenaline-inspiring loop of the course, this time releasing his grip on the gear-shift to grab the hand-brake and execute drift after perfect drift around the sharpest corners of the track. They leave long, dark marks of rubber on the pavement - Eggsy sees them on their third lap - and Harry chuckles deep in his throat at Eggsy’s howl of delight when he drifts the hairpin turn in the back half of the circuit.
They come to a gentle halt as Harry brings them back down to first gear, and then into park as he looks over at Eggsy, eyes bright and twinkling. Eggsy’s out of breath, one hand gripped in the arm-rest and the other still clutched on Harry’s thigh, and he releases his fingers after a moment - he’d gone white-knuckled, there, around some of the turns, and he grins sheepishly at Harry, rolling his shoulders and exhaling loudly, feeling flushed and adrenaline-drunk, winded but aching for more.
“Never told me you could drive like that,” he says, breathless, and watches Harry’s lips twitch from smug smile to smirk as Eggsy slides his hand inward, towards the stirring bulge in Harry’s trousers, fingers following the delicate seam up his inner thigh.
“Part of your surprise, my dear,” Harry replies, eyes hooded and darkening as Eggsy pets his clothed crotch with gentle, fleeting movements, teasing for all that his heart’s still racing. “There are plenty of things I haven’t told you.”
“Yeah?” Eggsy licks his lips, clicks his seatbelt open as quietly as he can so he can lean in, over the center arm-rest and into Harry’s space. Several images flash through his mind, things that could very well be part of Harry's surprise but that Eggsy wouldn't mind surprising Harry with, himself - rough-and-tumble handjobs in the admittedly cramped back seat of the Evora; bending himself over the glossy, dark hood and spreading his legs for Harry; bending down and taking Harry in his mouth as he shifts gears, his knuckles brushing against Eggsy's cock with his hand on the gearshift just so-
"Can you drive with my mouth on your cock?" Eggsy breathes, latching on to the idea as his own cock starts to fill, heat pooling in his stomach at the thought of doing something so dirty - so dangerous, and in such a powerful car. He knows Harry can do it - can keep his concentration on driving just enough to keep them in motion as Eggsy sucks him off. But still - it'll be fun trying to distract him, flirting with danger. Another cool push of adrenaline trickles through his veins and Eggsy smirks, winks at the heated and curious look that Harry shoots him over the rims of his glasses.
"As lovely as that sounds," he says, voice already edging on deep and hoarse, "and as lovely as your mouth looks - I'm going to have to decline. It's not so much a matter of could as it is should."
"Harry," Eggsy whines, but Harry shakes his head.
"I'm putting my foot down - not literally," he rolls his eyes just as Eggsy opens his mouth to slip in a pun, and Eggsy's jaw clicks closed and he pouts, flush rising on his cheeks. "I shan't indulge your danger kink, tonight."
Eggsy huffs, squirms in his seat; wasn't that the point of doing laps on the course, to show off the car and Harry's driving skills and do a little flirting with danger. "But - my surprise?"
"Rather more about the luxury and the power than the danger, darling," Harry raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that's all too beckoning, and Eggsy doesn't need a second invitation.
“Luxury,” he repeats, and continues to stroke along the hidden length of Harry's cock, now visibly tenting his trousers; Eggsy's wormed his his hand under Harry's, which is still holding the gear-shift between them, and he leans over to breathe Harry in. Over the scent of clean car and fresh leather is the smell of Harry's cologne, the the pomade he uses when he combs his hair; that, as much as the car itself, winds Eggsy up further. "Everything about you and this car is luxury."
"And I know how much you've come to enjoy it," Harry smirks, and Eggsy narrows his eyes at the pun.
Harry chuckles. "Oh, come now. The Evora is ours for the evening; I know you haven't experienced a ride like this before. Don't you want to know what leather worth thousands of pounds feels like on your bare arse?"
At Harry's words Eggsy becomes aware of his body, like a switch has been flipped in his mind, electric; he can't help but shift in his seat, as twisted as he is in it so he can reach Harry. The cushioned seat is comfortable, plush and silky-smooth against his hands, warm and supple as the finest of leathers are.
"There are leather seats in the Mazda I train in," Eggsy points out, swallowing thickly despite the challenge in his words.
Harry snorts. "Because Merlin despises trying to get blood out of cloth seats. Are you going to let me spoil you, or not?"
Eggsy tilts his head, considering - he doesn’t go as far as stroking his chin, just continues to run his clever fingers up and down the line of Harry’s erection through his trousers, which makes Harry’s breath hitch every time he glances across the sensitive head. But Harry holds still, waits despite the blown-wide darkness of his pupils, clenches his fingers around the gear-shift as Eggsy flirts with his iron self-control.
“I haven’t experienced a ride like this before,” Eggsy concedes, licking his lips - and grinning wickedly when he catches Harry’s eyes tracking the movement, “but I'm guessing you have."
"The benefit of being a more experienced agent, I suppose," Harry says, an edge of gravel to his voice as Eggsy continues to pet his cock through the layers of cloth. The hand not on the gear-shift is white-knuckled on the steering wheel, but he doesn't bat Eggsy's hand away - or grab it to bring him closer. Eggsy grins at Harry's patience, at the slow slip of his control into lust as Eggsy continues to tease.
"Well, then, rather than having you spoil me-" Eggsy pulls his hand away, and Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat at the loss of contact. But Eggsy doesn't stop; he unbuckles his seatbelt and toes out of his trainers, and in one fluid movement twists out of his seat and over the center console and gear-shift, settling himself onto Harry's lap with surprising grace. "- I'd rather give you a ride you've never experienced."
Harry's wordless with surprise for long enough that Eggsy can arrange him to his liking; he tugs Harry's hands away from the car and settles them on his hips, and wriggles a bit to get more comfortable. The pulse in Harry's throat throbs visibly, and Eggsy can feel him, now, hard and warm against the cleft of his arse, even separated by cotton and denim as they are.
Harry’s hands squeeze on his hips, slip down so they can do the same to his arse. “You do realize,” Harry says, and has to break off into a groan when Eggsy rolls his hips, grinding down on Harry with a cat-with-the-cream grin, “that giving you what you want is spoiling you, even if you’re riding me?”
"Semantics," Eggsy says, nonchalant, and gives another sensuous grind that has Harry's breath hitching. A shiver of delight runs down Eggsy's spine at how deliciously responsive Harry is to this, to him - their mixing breath is warm between them, and Harry's beginning to flush nicely from his cheeks down. He arches up into Eggsy, paws at his lower back to slip a hand between the fabric of his tee and his dampening skin, and Eggsy arches into the contact, loving the way Harry’s fingers slip up and then down again along the length of his spine.
He’s almost panting by the time he leans in for a kiss, drags his mouth across Harry’s and nips at his lower lip, soothes the sting with his tongue. Harry meets him in the middle, and gives as good as he gets - Eggsy groans when Harry’s tongue pushes between his lips, hot and wet, filthy like Eggsy knows Harry can kiss, dirty in a way a gentleman shouldn’t kiss. The leather of the seat creaks underneath them as Eggsy moves, shifts his weight in Harry’s lap to drag their cocks together in a torturous, slow grind.
They separate with a wet smack and Eggsy smirks down at Harry, plucks his fogging glasses off his face and places them, a little haphazardly, on the dashboard behind them. It's a little cramped - he barely misses bashing his elbow against the steering wheel bringing it back around to loop his hands 'round Harry's neck - but it's worth it to see the dark, predatory heat in Harry's eyes, to have him willingly pinned underneath him and along for the ride.
“So?” Harry asks, nosing along the line of Eggsy’s shoulder and tugging the collar of his shirt to the side to suck a mark against his collarbone, “What about that ride like I’ve never experienced before, hm? Are you going to show me what you’ve got?”
Eggsy bats Harry away to get his hands on the hem of his tee, pulls it up and over his head and arches his back, running a hand through his mussed hair as he tosses the discarded shirt into the passenger seat, grinning. If Harry’s asking for a show, that’s what Harry’s going to get.
Eggsy's never given a lap dance before - to Harry or anyone else, though he can't say the idea hasn't crossed his mind - but he thinks this must be a little bit what it's like. He grips the seat behind Harry's head and puts a hand on the console between the seats with the other, for balance; the leverage allows him to lean back a little bit, let his abs flex, on display, as he writhes in Harry's lap. His cock is visible, rock-hard and straining in his jeans and stretching himself out like this doesn't help to relieve the pressure of his waistband. Still, he's committed to the idea and can't stand the thought of backing down from a challenge; it helps, the way Harry's eyes drag down his body, hungry and possessive, and so the smirk doesn't leave Eggsy’s face despite the heavy throb of his confined cock.
And oh, he's sore from the training, but the tension melts out of his shoulders with each of Harry's lingering touches, feeling the slide of Eggsy's muscles as he moves. Harry’s broad, warm palms settled on his lower back, smooth into the dimples on either side of his spine where sweat’s already beginning to slick his skin. But then Harry reaches lower, slips his thumbs into the belt loops of Eggsy's trousers - and fuck, if that's not the hottest thing - and his fingers wander to find the lush curve of Eggsy’s arse, spread across it and knead gently, urging his hips to slide home, bringing their cocks together once again.
"Yeah?" Eggsy pants, winking as Harry squeezes his arse again - beneath him the muscles in Harry's thighs jump and flex as Harry tries, somewhat in vain, to find purchase in the friction of their grinding movement, or to stop himself from arching too strongly up into him - Eggsy's not quite sure. Either way, Harry’s hair starting to get sex-mussed and damp at his temples, his suit rumpled beyond fixing as they rut together, still mostly clothed.
It’s past time to fix that, Eggsy thinks, and crushes their mouths together again as he reaches up to tangle a hand in Harry’s tie.
He manages to get it undone, though Harry’s mouth is a worthy distraction - he kisses like he’s hungry for it, like he’s parched, like he’s drowning and starved for air - starved for Eggsy’s lips on his and the clash of their tongues and teeth. If Harry put his mind to it, he could probably make Eggsy come just like this - rutting together, trapped by their clothes except for the hot-wet meeting of their mouths. The thought makes Eggsy tremble, and he whines low in his throat as Harry worries at his lower lip, insatiable.
“Off,” Eggsy manages to grunt, loosening Harry’s tie enough to tug it off and throw it behind him, not bothering to watch where it lands - because now he can get to the buttons on Harry’s shirt. He makes quick work of those, moaning when Harry worms a hand into the back of his jeans and squeezes his arse, this time skin-on-skin. Harry’s hands are over-warm and his mouth is a brand against Eggsy’s neck; his moan nearly turns into a yelp when Harry bites gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, but Harry doesn’t break the skin, just nibbles a mark and laves over it with his tongue. He’ll have quite the hickey in an hour or two, Eggsy knows - and Merlin will give him hell for it in the morning, but with Harry’s hands on his bare back and his mouth on Eggsy’s neck, Eggsy can’t really be bothered to give a damn.
Harry hums into his skin when Eggsy manages to return the favor, parting Harry’s shirt to reveal his chest and bending to latch on to one nipple. He plays with it with his tongue, rolling it and scratching his teeth across it gently until it’s perked and stiffened, pink and sensitive with Harry shifting restlessly beneath him. Eggsy smirks, leaves one sloppy kiss on Harry’s chest and leaves a slick trail with his tongue up to Harry’s ear, nuzzles up against him and nips the lobe.
“Want to ride you,” he mumbles breathlessly, arching into Harry’s touch, captured between the heat of Harry’s hands on his arse and the hard line of Harry’s cock against his own, “Want you in me, Harry.”
Harry groans deep in his chest and his hands flex on Eggsy’s arse again, fingers dipping inward towards the crease to run, feather-light and teasing, across his hole. Eggsy whines, circles his hips in search of more friction, but Harry’s hands are too trapped by the fabric of the denim for him to do anything more. Eggsy sways upright, leans away so that he can undo the button and flies at the front of his jeans, laughing as he fumbles with the distended zipper and the buckle of his belt with trembling fingers. The need for Harry claws at him, fills his belly and cock heavy with desire, makes his breath hitch at every touch Harry leaves on his skin.
It’s a bit of a struggle to get out of his jeans - he should have thought of this earlier, Eggsy thinks to himself as he twists inelegantly tug at the cuff of one leg. But with some shimmying and wiggling they’re off and wadded into the footwell by the pedals and Eggsy’s bracketing Harry’s clothed thighs with his bare ones.
Harry doesn’t say anything about Eggsy’s struggling, but the eyebrow he raises in clear amusement when Eggsy settles himself again in his lap says enough.
“Next time I’ll go commando,” Eggsy promises, grinning - just to see the glaze of lust fall over Harry’s dark eyes again at his words. Now, when Harry’s hands wrap around him and skim down to his arse there’s little in the way; Eggsy swallows down a moan when Harry expertly cups the cheeks of his arse and presses the pad of one finger against his hole, rubbing gently at the sensitive, puckered rim. It sends a curl of heat down his spine, and he rides the movement, pushes back into Harry’s touch as he grinds his hips down into Harry’s. Sweat’s starting to gather on his skin; his knees slip a little, against the dark leather of the seat, and Harry anchors him with a hand on his hip, part steadying and part possessive. Harry slips his thumb under the waistband of Eggsy pants, petting the bone of his hip with the smooth-rough calloused pad of his finger. It makes Eggsy a little dizzy, to look down between their bodies and see Harry’s hand on his bare skin, see the effects they have on each other - Eggsy’s pants are barely for show, with his hard cock so clearly outlined through them and a dark stain at the head where he’s leaking precome. Harry’s in a similar state, so hard it looks like it hurts and still under layers of fine silk and pinstripe linen - but fuck, he looks good. He always does.
At some point Eggsy’d ducked his head into Harry’s shoulder as he flexed, letting Harry play with him and exploring the sensation of Harry’s ministrations; he leans his head back to bare his neck, smirk down at Harry and reach a hand up to card through the damp hair falling into Harry’s face. Harry’s eyes glitter darkly in the moonlight; there isn’t much else to see each other by, besides the muted glow of the instrument panel and dashboard, but it’s enough to see that Harry’s as flushed as Eggsy feels, rumpled and more than ready.
Eggsy doesn’t say anything - he just keeps his eyes locked on Harry’s as he reaches behind himself, tugs Harry’s hand away from his arse and, without preamble, slots two of Harry’s fingers into his mouth. Harry makes a choked-off groan, eyes leaving Eggsy’s to watch his fingers slide in and out of the slick heat of Eggsy’s mouth, red and swollen from their vigorous kissing and Harry’s predilection for using his teeth. Eggsy gets Harry’s fingers nice and wet, giving each the attention of his tongue, curling his tongue around and between them and sucking gently, winking at Harry.
“You tart,” Harry smiles slowly, though his composed tone is betrayed by his blow-wide pupils, so dark that Eggsy can't see the warm brown of his irises, “As if I need reminding what you can do with that mouth.”
Harry’s fingers make a wet pop as Eggsy pulls them out of his mouth, rubbing at Harry’s knuckles with his hands, massaging the meat of Harry’s palm as he drags Harry’s wet fingers back and forth across his lips, shiny with his spit.
“Can’t stay good at it unless I practice,” Eggsy says, licking a stripe up Harry’s middle finger and grinning at how Harry tilts his head back and bucks up into him at the sensation. But he doesn't keep teasing; he leaves a parting kiss on Harry’s fingertips and wriggles forward again, putting his weight on his knees and lifting his hips so he can slide his pants off completely. He swallows a gasp as the sensitive, damp crown of his cock catches on the waistband - but then it’s free, bobbing up against his stomach thick and pink, the glossy head exposed.
“Look at you,” Harry murmurs, once Eggsy is splayed out in his lap once more - this time completely bare to Harry’s gaze. Eggsy licks his lips, feeling himself twitch as Harry’s eyes linger on his exposed cock, up to the taut lines of his stomach and chest and nipples - yeah, Eggsy can’t help it, they’re tight and erect under Harry’s gaze - and then the wet red of his mouth. “A gorgeous thing like you belongs in a car like this.”
“Hah,” Eggsy huffs out a laugh, wriggling forward to his cock is flush with Harry’s again - and he knows Harry’s far gone, drunk on their love, when he doesn’t complain about Eggsy’s precome drooling out onto his suit pants. “I'll look better spread out on the hood, ready for your cock.”
“Next time,” Harry raises an eyebrow, and the look he gives Eggsy - entranced, edging on predatory, heavy with heat - makes shivers run across the surface of his skin. Next time. Eggsy can already imagine it; the cool, perfect smooth of painted metal at his back - or his front, if Harry bends him over and spreads him out to fuck him like -
“Ah,” Eggsy gasps, so lost in his mind that he doesn’t see Harry’s hand moving towards his cock until it’s on him. Harry slicks him root to crown, building a slow rhythm that has Eggsy wilting forward and panting, rocking into Harry’s grip. He leans his forehead against Harry’s to watch Harry’s hand on his cock, watch as Harry works him with clever fingers, thumbing the sensitive underside on the downstroke and squeezing gently. Harry knows exactly what he likes - the teasing flicks to head of his cock and the twist in his wrist that has him whining into Harry’s ear - and it isn't long before Eggsy’s even harder, even more of a mess and desperate for things to get a move on.
“Fuck,” he pants, stilling Harry’s hand with his own but unable to resist one last thrust into Harry’s curled fist, “got your fingers wet for my arse, you know, not - ah, not this.”
“I apologize,” Harry smirks, continues to languidly stroke up and down the shaft of Eggsy’s cock - loosely, with no real pressure - as he speaks. He doesn't sound remotely apologetic. Eggsy hums in the back of his throat at the contact, has to focus his efforts on holding Harry’s eyes as he’s teased, cock dribbling wetly onto Harry’s fingers. He'd be embarrassed of how hard he is, but he can see - and feel - that Harry’s prick is just as hard and interested underneath him. “I couldn't help myself - you looked like you needed a hand, and you know I can’t resist spoiling you.”
“Spoil my arse,” Eggsy grunts, and Harry chuckles. He lets up his teasing, though, smiling as Eggsy gives him a dark-eyed pout and releasing Eggsy’s cock from his grip. He slides his hand away, his fingers leaving a slick trail across Eggsy’s hip, around to his arse. Eggsy’s muscles twitch at the wetness, and the lingering cool that they leave in their wake; it’s a contrast to the heat, to the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck and the small of his back. It’s a miracle they haven’t completely fogged up the windows, yet.
Harry squeezes his arse again, unable to resist the plush muscle, and he tilts his head at Eggsy before nodding down to his left with a secretive smile.
“My left pocket, if you would, darling,” he says, and Eggsy quirks an eyebrow.
“Planned for this, did you?” he asks, and takes the opportunity of fishing in Harry’s pocket to plaster himself against Harry’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses across Harry’s jaw to his ear. “Filthy.” He lingers there even when his fingers close around the little tube of lubricant, passing it to Harry as he continues to suck a mark onto Harry’s neck. Eggsy smirks into Harry’s skin - it’s high above Harry’s collar; if he’s getting shit from Merlin tomorrow at least Harry will be too, now. Underneath him Harry groans, the skin underneath Harry’s mouth vibrating with the sound, and Eggsy tips his head to press his flushed cheek against the leather seat just above Harry’s shoulder, over-warm and aching.
There’s the snap-click of the tube opening and the quiet squish of Harry emptying some onto his fingers; it’s only a moment before there’s the cool sensation of Harry’s lube-covered fingers nudging around his hole. Eggsy shifts his weight, spreads his legs a little farther so Harry can reach - it turns out having sex in a car really isn’t ideal, if you’re choosy about positions, but Eggsy doesn’t mind the strain if it means he can get what he wants. And he’s getting what he wants in a Lotus Evora.
Harry’s thorough, maybe exceedingly so - and Eggsy wouldn’t mind if not for the heavy weight of heat in his gut, the burning urge to sit on Harry’s cock and make good on his promise. He spreads the lube with practiced fingers, rubs up and down as Eggsy squirms at his touch, finally curling one finger and pressing it inwards when Eggsy starts to mumble profanities into his ear. The feel of intrusion quickly fades to a simmering warmth, a pleasant stretch as Harry pushes further, stretches him carefully, reading the signs of Eggsy’s body to make sure he’s ready. Eggsy swallows thickly, wordlessly pushes back on Harry’s finger to take more of him in when it’s not enough, and Harry drops kisses onto his bare shoulder. Harry pants into his skin, his breath tickling the fine hairs on his bare arms, and Eggsy shivers with want, tests his balance by arching back again.
“Careful,” Harry warns him, rewards him for his patience by drawing his finger out and pushing in again, starting a steady pace that sets Eggsy’s nerves alight. He moans, hips twitching to meet Harry’s fingers at every thrust, cock leaving wet smears on Harry’s exposed stomach between them. Eggsy blinks sweat out of his eyes and shifts so that he can get a hand on Harry again, squeezing him briefly through his trousers before going for the buckle and zip. It’s hard to concentrate on the task of freeing Harry’s cock with a finger in his arse, pistoning languidly, but after fumbling the zipper pull with his sweat-damp fingers Eggsy manages to guide Harry’s cock out of his clothes.
“Don’t think I can move enough for you to get out of those proper,” he shrugs, gesturing to the way Harry’s trousers and pants are bunched up around the tops of his thighs. “Hard enough to balance like this, with you distracting me.”
“I’m the distracting one?” Harry smirks, and then gasps when Eggsy gets a hand around his cock, jutting up against his belly, thick and glistening and blood-hot in Eggsy’s palm. “You haven’t been hearing the sounds you’re making, then.”
With that Harry twists his finger inside Eggsy, searching for the bundle of nerves inside of him and skimming the pad of his finger across it. Eggsy keens, arches into Harry at the sensation; his jaw drops open in a long, wordless moan and his eyes flutter close, hips hitching. God, yes, there. Harry strokes across it once, twice more, before withdrawing and then pressing two fingers inside Eggsy, gently wriggling to stretch out the sensitive rim of his hole.
Eggsy breathes into the stretch, lets the burn of it fade before he moves again, bucks against Harry’s fingers until they’re fully seated inside him and Harry’s palm is flush against the skin of his arse. Fuck, there’s nothing like it; the heavy fullness of being filled, the blunt weight of Harry’s fingers inside him, stretching him, making room for his cock. His cock twitches at the thought, dipping just enough for its tip to graze across Harry’s cock, and they both gasp. A shudder runs down Eggsy’s spine, his hole clenching and unclenching, clutching at Harry’s fingers outside of his control. He’s hungry for it, dripping for it - and, careful not to dislodge Harry’s fingers from his arse, Eggsy slides forward to slot his bare cock against Harry’s to prove that fact.
“One more,” Harry grunts, panting into Eggsy’s damp hair, and Eggsy grumbles, grudging but accepting as Harry flips the cap on the lube again and removes his fingers to squirt out some more.
“Want you now,” Eggsy complains, half-heartedly; he lets himself rock against Harry’s cock, brushing their lengths together sloppily. He gets his hand most of the way around the two of them and jerks them off together, languorous and indulgent, as Harry slicks his fingers and sinks them back into his hole. Three is definitely a bit of a burn, but he trusts Harry - and they’ve done this more than enough before to know that Eggsy can take it. Harry’s cock is thicker than three of his fingers, anyways, even up to the knuckle. Eggsy slides his hand up Harry’s cock again at the thought, playing with the wetness gathering at the tip, and Harry grinds his fingers in a little deeper in teasing retribution.
Eggsy doesn’t need the teasing - this whole night has been teasing in the name of indulgence and luxury, from the promise of a surprise to the ride in the car itself - but with Harry’s fingers just grazing across his prostate with each thrust, it’s easy to get lost in the electric zip of pleasure down his spine, the hot slide of them together in his hand. Harry makes aborted moans underneath him, chest heaving and bucking up into Eggsy’s fist as much as he can, confined to the seat as he is. He still has the presence of mind, though, to keep up the steady rhythm of his fingers inside Eggsy, building faster and faster as he gets loosened and slick for Harry’s cock. The wet noise of them plunging into him, again and again, makes Eggsy groan as much as the feel of them - it’s dirty, it’s obscene, and he’s had enough of Harry doing all the work.
He shifts forward and tugs Harry’s cock a little further away from his body, then holds out his hand to Harry, wriggling his fingers.
“C’mon, I ain’t waiting no more - I’m ready. Let me give you that ride,” he smirks, running his fingers up and down the hot-hard length of Harry’s cock. Harry’s throat bobs as he swallows but he smiles back, dragging his fingers away from Eggsy’s arse to squeeze a final glob of lube into Eggsy’s waiting palm.
“I’m sure you’ll exceed expectations,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows at Eggsy - though his expression morphs from sly amusement to dizzy with pleasure when Eggsy slicks his cock, thoroughly coating it and then wriggling closer to position himself above it. He keeps his hand around it has he guides it closer, runs the slippery head of Harry’s cock across his hole a few times to hear Harry’s breath hitch. Finally, though, neither of them can take the waiting anymore, and Eggsy lets it catch on the rim of his hole and sinks down onto Harry’s cock, one hot inch at a time, until he settles fully in Harry’s lap with a sigh that’s nearly a moan.
“Beautiful,” Harry murmurs between pants, letting his hands rest on Eggsy’s hips - not to move or control, just running his thumbs along the strong arches of Eggsy’s hip bones underneath his sweating, flushed skin, waiting for Eggsy to adjust to the feel of him. Eggsy hums, leans forward just enough to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s mouth as he concentrates on the full, heavy sensation of of Harry’s cock inside him.
And oh, it is glorious - being filled with Harry’s cock, speared on it like this with Harry underneath him, pliant and accepting of whatever it is Eggsy wants to take or give. He’s so hard and so hot, throbbing in time with Harry’s pounding pulse and perfectly stretching him to a pleasant ache. Eggsy circles his hips experimentally, feeling the way Harry shifts inside of him at the movement and groaning low in his chest when the head of Harry’s cock brushes against his prostate. Yeah, yes, just like that.
Eggsy wraps one hand around the back of Harry’s neck and puts the other on the console between the seats, for leverage; he doesn’t have a lot of room to work with, but he knows how to use his body to make Harry feel good, knows how to take his own pleasure like this on Harry’s cock. He starts a slow grind, circling his hips and shifting so that Harry’s cock drags in and out each time, a few inches that sends sparks of heat through his body, down to his fingertips and toes and heavy in his balls. Harry’s hands on his hips clench and unclench; when Eggsy glances up to his face, Harry’s teeth are gritted and his eyes half-lidded, dark as he watches Eggsy move.
He writhes, the muscles in his abs flexing as he works himself on Harry’s cock, finding just the right tempo and angle that makes Harry’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth fall open in a long groan. His hair is a mess, matted to his skin at his temples and sweat beading on his chest where Eggsy’d tugged his shirt open. It’s a heady contrast, that Harry’s still mostly clothed and Eggsy’s naked, rolling his hips and sinking down again and again on Harry’s cock in a languid, torturous rhythm that has them both gasping for breath. The cloth of Harry’s trousers underneath Eggsy’s thighs is damp with sweat, chafing pleasantly against his bare skin, a reminder to Eggsy of how filthy it is that he’s so exposed and bare - and that he gets to see Harry like this, unbuttoned and rumpled and debauched. He makes Harry like this, it’s Eggsy that can drive Harry to the razor-sharp edge of pleasure, where he forgets everything except the feel of Eggsy against his skin and Eggsy’s name on his tongue.
Eggsy sits up with a quick jerk, Harry’s cock nearly pulling free, and then drops himself back down in one smooth movement that has them both groaning aloud. He does it again, and again; the muscles in his thighs begin to ache with the strain of it, twitching with each ragged thrust, but the waves of pleasure coursing through his veins and the hoarse, gravelly way Harry moans, “Eggsy” makes it worth the effort.
“Fuck, Harry,” he grunts, trembling as he leans forward, spine arching into a stronger curve as he changes the angle again - and now, when he snaps his hips down and impales himself on Harry’s cock, it brushes right across his prostate with white-hot pleasure. His breath catches in his throat when he does it again, eyelids fluttering and insides clenching and clutching at the hard length inside of him. Harry curls a gentle hand around his neck to pull him forwards, to slide their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. It’s a little too wet but messy in the good way as Harry sucks Eggsy’s tongue into his mouth, curls around it and teases it with his own, a groan rumbling in his chest as Eggsy increases the exhilarating pace of his ride.
“You drive me-” Harry nips at Eggsy’s lower lip, making him gasp into the kiss and shudder as Harry thrusts up into him, starts to meet him halfway on each upward stroke of his cock.
“I drive you?” Eggsy laughs, breath hitching each time Harry fills him, hole twitching as he edges closer and closer to orgasm. The tension in his spine winds tighter, like a bowstring ready to snap; already his balls are gathering closer to his body and his arse clenching outside of his control. A shiver runs down his spine, cold-hot, and he lets his shoulders roll back and his head tilt to expose his throat as he rides the sensations.
“-mad, my dear,” Harry finally bites out, slipping one hand up to thumb Eggsy’s nipple, watching as it makes Eggsy wriggle and moan, “you gorgeous-”
“Harry,” Eggsy whines, chest heaving as he pants, unable to catch his breath. His cock stiffens impossibly further where it’s trapped between them, leaving slick trails on the soft skin of Harry’s stomach, and at the sound of his name Harry fucks up into him even harder. Eggsy’s eyes screw shut as the sensations overwhelm him, narrowing down to the bright-hot point of where Harry’s cock fills him, pushes in and out and drags against his prostate. His blood roars in his ears, his heart racing in his chest as he forces himself down, pounds himself on Harry’s cock, drives himself towards the dizzying precipice of orgasm. He’s vaguely aware that he’s chanting Harry’s name with what little breath he has, mouth stretched open as he fills the air with long moans of pleasure to match the slick, wet sounds between them.
“Fuck, fuck-” he swears, hips stuttering in their rhythm as Harry slams into him from below - at just the right angle, fully seating him on Harry’s cock, filled with the thick girth of it and Eggsy’s orgasm crashes through him. He comes with a shout, swaying as he rides through it, biting his lip and whining, high-pitched, as the sensations make him quiver and shake. His come covers Harry’s stomach, pooling on his bare skin and catching a bit on his suit - but Harry doesn’t notice, preoccupied with the clench of Eggsy around him. Eggsy doesn’t let up, rides his orgasm on Harry’s still-hard cock until Harry fucks up into him one last time and comes, panting Eggsy’s name. His fingers spasm on Eggsy’s hip, clutching him close as the throbs inside Eggsy, fills him with a wet heat that makes Eggsy moan again at the feel of it.
Eggsy collapses forward, sweaty and wrung clean by his orgasm, and presses lazy kisses along Harry’s neck where his mouth can reach. He slumps into Harry’s chest regardless of the wet mess, content to enjoy the warmth of Harry’s skin and the start of the ache in his arse that he knows will linger in the day to come.
Harry shifts underneath him, petting up and down the length of Eggsy’s back idly as he catches his breath, humming contentedly. He's beginning to soften inside Eggsy but neither of them shift away, enjoying each other's warmth in the afterglow.
"Ride of your life?" Eggsy mumbles into Harry's lapel, shifting so he can press his ear to Harry's chest over his heart. His pulse is starting to calm, coming down from the race towards orgasm, but it's nice to hear its steady, thrumming rhythm.
Harry chuckles, threading his fingers through Eggsy's damp hair. "I don't think I'll be able to get into one of these cars ever again without thinking of this."
"Then my work here is done," Eggsy grins, sitting up to kiss Harry soft and slow, smiling all the while. They part with a quiet sound, and Eggsy leaves one last tender kiss on Harry’s lips before leaning away to stretch his arms and arch his back, relishing in the pleasure still humming underneath his skin.
The sound of the car's horn makes them jump, and Eggsy laughs - his elbow had jostled the wheel when he leaned backwards. He shoots Harry another grin in response to Harry’s look of wry amusement, which is more indulgent adoration than anything else.
“Can’t take you anywhere without trouble, can I?” he asks, catching Eggsy’s wrist and tugging his arm away from the wheel to press kisses along Eggsy’s knuckles.
Eggsy shrugs. “I dunno about that,” he says, giving Harry a smirk, “but if there’s trouble, you always seem happy to be along for the ride.”
He reaches out with his other hand to draw a sloppy heart in the fogged-up glass of the window, and raises his eyebrows at Harry.
It’s no surprise at all when Harry tugs him closer and rewards him with another kiss.