Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time it happens it’s because they are both mad with grief.

It tastes of gunpowder, blood, and fury, the kind of descriptors associated with death and destruction; with their line of work. There are bespoke suits, tricky gadgets, and fingertips stained with various human fluid. The clash of glasses and curses growled between biting kisses if either man can really call it that. No, it’s really just fighting and drawing blood. The kind of encounter where neither of them is in the mood for something soft or gentle; where they wound each other in the throes of pleasure. Where their hands create a series of bruises, dig their nails in the tender flesh, and push them over the edge.

Merlin had come back to the jet in search of Eggsy. He hadn’t joined him and Roxy within the safety of the Kingsman headquarter walls where other agents had gathered. He missed the strained debriefing and was nowhere to be found several hours later. He thought that perhaps Eggsy had gone to check on his mum and baby sister, though Ector quickly dismissed this as none of the cabs had left the grounds.

Eggsy wasn’t in the training barracks, nor any of the rooms located in the guest wing, so Merlin found himself walking back to the hangar with the ground crunching beneath the soles of his loafers. As he mounts the steps leading into the jet, Merlin catches a pair of trainers thrown haphazardly on the carpeted floor.

“Eggsy?” he calls, poking his head inside to find the lad sitting in one of the leather seats and holding a finger of scotch in one hand.

He’s removed his bespoke suit jacket, which Merlin reckons needs some repairing from bullet singes and knife cuts, and folded it neatly against his thigh. His dress shirt has been unbuttoned at the collar, exposing an elegant strip of skin from neck to sternum. The sleeves have been rolled up and sloppily cuffed. A constellation of moles and freckles litter Eggsy’s forearms, partially hidden by fine light brown hairs.

Eggsy doesn’t spare him a look and keeps on sipping his drink, not his first by the flush on his cheeks. “What do you want?” he grumbles, bespectacled eyes focused on the jet’s bar.

“You missed the debriefing,” Merlin states.

Eggsy shrugs. “I was there, wasn’t I? Don’t need a debriefin’ if I already know what happened,” he reasons.

His voice sounds harsh, harsher than the other times Merlin has heard him speak. It’s not from his poor pronouncation or chav speak but from violence and exertion. Merlin witnessed first-hand what befell Eggsy as he saved the world from chaos; it’s only logical that some of it may linger.

Though it doesn’t excuse poor behavior.

“It is standard that all Kingsman agents attend debriefings, especially given the scale of today’s events,” Merlin tells him, not bothering to mince words.

“Well, I failed the last test, so I guess the rules don’t apply to me, yeah?” Eggsy fires back.

He looks at Merlin this time; green eyes burning from behind bulletproof glass smudged with blood. Whether it belongs to Eggsy or to someone else, it doesn’t matter. They reflect the burden and exhaustion of one’s first mission, something which Merlin knows all too well.

“The rules still apply,” Merlin says, frowning. He takes a step closer as Eggsy turns away and continues drinking. By his calf is the bottle, nearing half empty. “Perhaps you should slow down,” he suggests.

Eggsy smacks his lips together, ignoring the cut marring the plump flesh of the bottom one. “Perhaps you should let me drink in peace. I’ve had a long day.”

“Then I’ll join you.”

“Shove off,” Eggsy snarls. He glares at Merlin now, teeth bared like a rabid animal. “Leave me alone, all right? I’m fuckin’ knackered and need time to clear my head!”

Frowning, Merlin crosses his arms over his chest. “Drinking won’t help you do that.”

“So what? Maybe I don’t want to think for a bit, you know?” He chugs the rest of the scotch, wincing as it burns his throat and makes contact with that cut. Eggsy grabs the bottle and goes to pour another.

Merlin is faster. He bats it from the lad’s fingers, sending the glass container to the floor where it pukes alcohol onto the otherwise pristine carpet.

“What the fuck, guv!” Eggsy shouts, jumping to his feet. He hurls the glass at the wall, both of them ignoring the sound of it shattering.

“Stop this nonsense,” Merlin demands, balling his fists at his sides. “This is not what Harry had in mind when he nominated you.”

Eggsy crowds into his personal space with sour, scotch-tinged breath while his face contorts in rage. He flares his nostrils, expanding the shape of his nose while his pitch-black pupils swallow down the green of his eyes.

In this form, Eggsy resembles a killer. A man who will end the life of another without hesitation. Anyone else would be frightened, but not Merlin.

“Well he’s fuckin’ dead!” the lad hisses.

The realization of his words hits both of them, driving the air from their lungs. Harry Hart is dead. He’s never coming back. Harry’s only been gone for twelve hours, his brains, bits of skull, and blood staining concrete in Kentucky, but shit.

Shit, Merlin thinks, trying to breathe. He clutches his stomach, fingers digging into the material of his jumper.

Eggsy fairs no better. He staggers back, dropping his bum into the seat behind him and deflates, growing pale as sweat gathers at his hairline. “He’s dead,” he whispers, blinking deliberately. “Harry’s dead. Bloody Christ. Fuck!”

He launches himself at Merlin, grabbing the older man by the front of his jumper and punching him square in the jaw.

The hit vibration sends shockwaves through his head. Merlin bites down on his tongue and painfully gnashes his teeth together. His temples throb and for a moment, he believes he’s going to black out.

“Fuck you!” Eggsy bellows, winding his arm back from another strike. “You fuckin’ sent him there, you arsehole! And he died!”

Merlin catches the lad’s fist in his palm, using the leverage to shove him back. As Eggsy’s body hits the carpet, Merlin jumps on top of him, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists to either side of his head. “I wasn’t responsible for his assignments,” he growls. “Harry going to Kentucky was beyond my control!”

“You let him go!” Eggsy yells, flecks of spit catching on Merlin’s face. “You could have stopped him!”

“I didn’t know what would happen!” he counters, keeping his body pressed firmly against Eggsy’s.

Merlin watches as Eggsy tries to go for his arm with his mouth; trying to bite it, no doubt. He elbows him in the stomach, stunning Eggsy momentarily. It’s enough time to gather both of the lad’s wrists and fix them over his head.

Eggsy squirms and fights against him, using whatever means necessary to throw Merlin off. His grief, his anger—even if it’s misguided—doesn’t melt away. The fire of these emotions burns brightly, compassing all those around it.

He squeezes the delicate skin of the lad’s wrists, bruising them with his grip. “I’m not the one you’re angry at, Eggsy,” Merlin hisses into his ear.

“Fuck you!”

They pull apart, for Eggsy is a wily little fuck and manages to wrap his legs around Merlin’s waist to throw him.

Grabbing his ankle, Merlin sends Eggsy back to the floor and takes the opportunity to jump on top of him. He falls forward, lying over the length of Eggsy’s body with his legs slotted on either side of him. Merlin’s mouth hovers just above Eggsy’s, close enough to touch as they stare each other down.

They meet in the middle in a messy clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. The inside of Eggsy’s mouth tastes like gunmetal and ash, of dead and broken things.

Eggsy bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough to hurt, to draw blood, and to excite. Merlin pulls back, his tongue glossing over the fresh cut. He looks down at Eggsy, all wanting and ready with Merlin’s blood staining his teeth in a sneer.

At that moment, he knows exactly what to do with him.

Merlin grabs him by the front of his shirt, hauling Eggsy to his feet and slamming him against the bar. “I’m going to fuck you,” he whispers into the shell of Eggsy’s ear. His hands fumble with the buckle of Eggsy’s trousers before ripping his belt through them and doing away with buttons and zippers.

Eggsy groans, bucking his arse against Merlin’s groin. “Yes,” he whispers back.

“I won’t be gentle,” the older man warns, yanking down the lad’s clothes. He doesn’t bother to appreciate the hard, young body flushed against his own.

Eggsy is all taut skin and muscle; thinking for too long will only remind him of all the others who have been there before—the Swedish princess, anonymous lovers, quick fumbles in a club. Merlin grabs a bottle of left-behind hand lotion sitting behind the bar and pours it onto two fingers.

“I don’t want you to be,” Eggsy tells him before Merlin shoves his fingers into the tight channel of Eggsy’s arse.

He listens to the lad’s keening as he roughly preps him, biting down on the nape of his neck to leave teeth imprints on the salty skin. He doesn’t care about if it bruises or if one of their colleagues will know.

Merlin just wants to hear that lovely sound emote from Eggsy’s lips.

His fingers stretch him out, fucking into the lad’s hole as if the world is still going to end. Eggsy meets each movement, crying out when Merlin brushes against his prostate.

“Fuck me,” he whines, reaching for the older man’s hip. “Come on, guv. Fuck me!”

Merlin bats his hand away, grabbing it by the wrist and placing it on the bar where the other one rests. “Those,” he grunts out, “stay there.”

He delights in the full body shudder that ripples through Eggsy and decides he wants in. Merlin removes his fingers and goes to take his swollen cock out before deferring to the lotion. He slathers it over his length, jerking it from root to tip as Merlin inches closer to Eggsy’s hole.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” the little berk challenges.

Merlin lines himself up, not bothering to pull Eggsy’s cheeks apart, and hisses at the contact. “Don’t ask for things you don’t want.”

“Hurry the fuck up!” Eggsy growls impatiently. “Fuckin’ tea-”

He shoves himself inside of the lad, cutting off his rant. Merlin curses into Eggsy’s sweat laden hair as he sinks into of the tight passage. He can feel everything—each pulse, twitch and flutter; they aren’t using protection and neither seems to care.

Once Merlin buries himself to the hilt, his balls brushing against the curve of Eggsy’s arse, he grabs onto the lad’s hips and begins fucking him. Merlin goes hard, the kind of sex that will make Eggsy’s body ache in the morning. He shows no mercy and doesn’t allow Eggsy to get used to his size or girth. He wants to find release, to inflict pain and the lad is more than happy to be a willing participant.

He grabs Eggsy’s hair, pulling at him until he’s tight like a bow. Merlin nibbles at his jaw, leaving marks and salvia on the skin.

“Fuck,” the lad groans, his fingers letting go of the bar.

Merlin yanks at the fine strands. “Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he hisses. “Don’t you even think it, Eggsy. You only get my cock to help you cum, you hear? That’s all you get.” He’s babbling as the words coming from his lips without much thought or meaning and he knows it. Merlin is too preoccupied with his dick pumping into Eggsy’s arse, relishing the tightness and heat, just shy of too much.

And the cheeky little arsehole is loving every minute of it. The lad is all throaty moans and cut off curses, taking what he’s given and then some. He pushes back onto Merlin’s cock, wanting it to split him in two. “Is that all you got, guv?” he rasps, turning enough for Merlin to view his profile.

He grabs Eggsy by the chin, forcing him to stand upright, his hands still flat against the bar. Their mouths are crashing back into each other’s orbit; too wet, too hard, too jagged.

It’s fucking perfect.

Merlin’s hand slides from the sweet slope of Eggsy’s chin towards the column of his throat, it lying on top of his Adam’s apple. He keeps it there when Merlin hears a gasp. He continues fucking Eggsy; burying himself deep inside of him and taking whatever his cock can find. Merlin breaks their kiss and settles his mouth near the lad’s ear, grunting into it as his orgasm mounts.

“Mer-” Eggsy chokes out, his voice coming roughly as one does when their release is close. “Right there, please. Right there!”

Hearing the strangled cry only makes Merlin thrust harder, igniting a barreling effect that goes from Eggsy’s prostate and through his body. He cums, clamping up on Merlin’s cock in the most delicious way as he uses the lad’s body, getting in several sharp, deep jabs.

His orgasm sends him into a euphoric state, sparking and tingling and too much all at the same time. Merlin digs his fingernails into Eggsy’s hips, embedding them into soft, warm skin. Words escape him, even when he slips out of Eggsy’s hole with his face still pressed against the nape of his neck.

However long they stand there, breathing in each other’s aftershocks, Merlin doesn’t know.

Their surroundings filter back slowly, like fog drifting over a body of water, and he realizes that they are standing half-naked in the Kingsman jet.

He backs off, tucking himself back into his pants while Eggsy pulls up his underwear and trousers. Slowly they resume their previous state: a little rumpled, definitely beaten to shit, and wholly exhausted.

Merlin notices Eggsy searching for a rag and the splatters of his semen smears over the polished wooden panels of the bar. “Leave it,” he commands, earning a curious glance. “We have housekeeping for a reason.”

“Oh,” Eggsy says. Buckling his belt, he meets Merlin’s eyes and offers a shrug. “So that happened.”

“Indeed it did,” he replies.

Eggsy goes to pick up his things in silence, tucking them under his arm and walks right up to Merlin. It's reminiscent of the moments following the parachute trial, except instead of anger and that chip on his shoulder, Eggsy moves gingerly and has a cheeky look in his eyes.

Clapping him on the shoulder, Eggsy grins at him. “We’ll do it again sometime, yeah?”

“Perhaps,” Merlin says, betraying nothing.

The little shit just laughs in his face and disembarks the jet to head back to the main house.

Chapter Text

The second time it happens Eggsy has just been knighted with the name Galahad a fortnight ago.

It makes both of their chests ache in memory of their fallen friend, though Merlin reckons that the lad bears the pomp and circumstance well enough. He admits that it’s a bit of a slap in the face to hear the new Arthur bestow the alias and for the briefest of moments, Eggsy’s stoic expression falters.

His moss green eyes are what gives him away; they flicker, tinged with sadness and loss before resuming their determination.

Just like his face, they are incredibly expressive when Eggsy allows it and change fluidly along with his moods.

Not that Merlin pays much attention.

He fails to devote his time to many things outside of the Kingsman organization, as the world is still in pockets of turmoil. When he isn’t catching up on much-needed sleep or debating the merits of injecting coffee into his veins, Merlin is wholly focused on his agents and their missions.

When Eggsy comes to him done up in a new grey bespoke suit and looking every part of a gentleman, it’s late at night. Merlin is in his lair, as his colleagues refer to his office, and running a report before shutting down for the evening. He hears the click of the lad’s heels on the floor, though he doesn’t acknowledge it for a while. Instead, Merlin keeps his eyes glued to the computer screen while Eggsy lingers off to the side, his presence as palpable as it was on the jet.

“Did you need something, Galahad?” he inquires, squinting at the screen.

The soles of his Oxfords scrape against the ground, followed by the door being shut and locked. Merlin’s skin pimples underneath his clothing because he knows what Eggsy is doing; he’s coming back for seconds and making good on that tawdry suggestion that they fuck again.

Not that the thought hasn’t crossed Merlin’s mind.

On the rare occurrence that he has a moment to himself, he thinks of their encounter with his hand fisting his cock. Merlin isn’t ashamed to admit that he pretends it’s Eggsy’s hole stretched around him, obliging to his length and girth as it plunders Eggsy’s passage.

Or that he wants to taste Eggsy’s body under his lips and tongue.

And sometimes when he’s drifting off to sleep, he can hear the ghostly sound of the lad’s voice whispering his name in his ear, all broken and fucked out.

Absolutely lovely.

No, Merlin isn’t ashamed to admit, but he also won’t divulge the information without the threat of pain or death.

“Just wanted to drop by,” Eggsy says, flashing a mischievous smirk when he finally turns to look at him. The grey fabric of his suit is complementary to his complexion and coloring, making his eyes resemble a calm sea before the storm.

Merlin shakes his head and goes back to his screen. “Now that you have done so, you can see your way out,” he grumbles.

Just because he wants the lad doesn’t mean he has to play easy.

“Manners,” Eggsy teases, walking to him. He stands behind Merlin’s chair, tracing a finger over the chrome on top. “Have you forgotten ‘bout ‘em, guv?”

He swings around, startling the lad. “I do recall them,” Merlin fires back as he folds his arms over his chest. He looks Eggsy up and down, his eyes roaming at a sedate pace and watches as Eggsy become flustered and uncertain of the situation between them.

Merlin also likes to appreciate the body in front of him; fair skin draped over the defined muscle, supple arse cheeks, pink lips, and the outline of his cock pressing against his trousers.

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Eggsy replies, leaning forward. His hands go to clutch the armrests of the chair, effectively pinning Merlin in place.

He could escape if he wanted to, but he’d rather see what Eggsy has up his sleeve.

Capable fingers curl around the chrome, lacking finesse or patience. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you,” Eggsy admits, huskily. He glances at Merlin from beneath a fan of dark lashes and the lenses of his glasses. “And wonderin’ when we’d get a moment alone.”

“I spoke with you during your mission in Istanbul,” Merlin states, his gaze never leaving Eggsy’s face. “Unless you have forgotten.”

A whiff of Eggsy’s cologne flutters by as the lad moves, bringing his lips to Merlin’s ear. It has notes of Oud wood, cardamom, sandalwood, and perhaps some Turkish Rose and Patchouli. It’s intoxicating, really. “Not the type of talkin’ I’m about,” he murmurs.

“Oh?”

“What I have in mind is a bit…inappropriate for work purposes, yeah? Not acceptable for mission debriefin’ or Kingsman records.”

Merlin’s lips twitch. “I may have to be the judge of that.”

He moves faster than Eggsy reckoned he would, pulling the lad into his lap by both wrists. His hands encompass the slender area, squeezing it as a sign of possession.

And then there’s Eggsy’s cock, all hard, wanting, and pressing insistently into Merlin’s stomach.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, reaching up to pluck Eggsy’s glasses from his face. He drags the plastic temple piece down the lad’s skin, watching his reaction carefully—his flushed skin, wet lips, heavy breathing, and eyes wide with astonishment.

Merlin waits for Eggsy to recover, noticing how his pupils dilate with lust as he holds the glasses in his hand. He tilts his head, smirking and raising his eyebrows. “Well?”

“You should take off my trousers and see for yourself,” Eggsy gloats, returning Merlin’s expression with a cheeky grin of his own. He rolls his hips, making his intentions crystal clear. “Go on. Don’t you want to find out, bruv?”

Stealing a quick glance at the fly of Eggsy’s trousers, Merlin shifts to flip their positions. Eggsy lands with an unintelligible protest, which is silenced when the tech wizard nudges his thighs apart. Running his fingers up and down the material, Merlin appreciates the sight in front of him.

Fuck it if he isn’t a human being and that Eggsy isn’t gorgeous.

“Take off your jacket,” he orders.

Nimble and steady fingers go to the buttons, undoing them slowly while Eggsy looks up at Merlin. He winks like he did in the hangar of Valentine’s hideout when the jacket falls open over his stomach.

Eggsy gazes at him as he shrugs the article of clothing off and allows it to slip from his fingers onto the floor.

“Shirt,” Merlin says next. “Both of them. And your tie.”

Eggsy just as he’s asked, making a big show of it, too. He slips the tie from his collar and settles it on his lap. Next is the pale blue dress shirt, unbuttoned at a sedate pace while Eggsy licks his lips and reveals his white undershirt. “Tryin’ to get me naked, are you?”

“Perhaps,” the older man answers as Eggsy removes his clothing until he’s sitting bare-chested in his chair.

Unsurprisingly, Eggsy is, well, fit. His defined muscles—especially his abdomen, Jesus Christ—are covered with a dusting of freckles, birthmarks, light brown hair, and fair skin. He vaguely recalls the first test of Eggsy’s training, where Eggsy stood in front of him in wet pajama bottoms and no shirt and looking as frazzled as he was scared.

If he had all the time in the world, Merlin would make certain that he’d his run tongue over every single inch of it until he memorized the taste of him and Eggsy was a trembling, sobbing mess.

He notices the tie still draped over Eggsy’s lap, nearly forgotten. “What are your feelings about being bound?”

“Depends on who’s doin’ the bindin’,” Eggsy quips, wagging his brows.

His response goes straight to Merlin’s groin. “Little shit,” Merlin grumbles, snatching the tie. “Stand up, hands behind your back.”

“How long have you been wantin’ to that, bruv?” Eggsy inquires as he follows Merlin’s instructions. He glances over his shoulder looking quite amused. “Tie me up,” he clarifies.

Taking one wrist and crossing it over the other, Merlin begins to loop the tie—Italian silk by the feel of it—around them. “Not as long as I’ve wanted to gag you.”

“You’re a kinky twat, you know that?” Eggsy fires back, chuckling.

Merlin finishes knotting the tie and goes about checking Eggsy’s circulation with his index finger. “I am aware,” he says. His hand travel to his own tie—a simple thing made of dense black fabric—and undoes it before holding it up in front of Eggsy’s eyes. “If you don’t mind.”

“Sensory deprivation,” Eggsy comments after shrugging his compliance. He continues on talking as Merlin using the tie to blindfold him. “You’d rather hear me callin’ out your name or summat?”

He ignores the comment and decides to rid Eggsy of his trousers. Merlin caresses the globes of Eggsy’s bottom, from his crease to lower back and traveling to his belt buckle. He makes quick work of it and Eggsy’s trousers, letting them drop to the floor.

Or in their case, around his ankles.

Merlin realizes that Eggsy isn’t wearing underwear. “Presumptuous,” he mutters, placing a hand just above Eggsy’s pubic hair. His fingers brush against the tousled curls before dipping lower to Eggsy’s cock, which is already wet with precum leaking from the slit.

“That ain’t your surprise, bruv,” Eggsy gasps as Merlin kneads his cockhead. A breath shudders through him.

“I wasn’t aware you had a surprise for me,” Merlin comments as his hand moves to the middle of Eggsy’s length and jerks it. Eggsy arches into him, sputtering and moaning. “Is it this?”

Eggsy keens at a second jerk. “N-no,” he grunts out. “Go ‘round back, bruv.”

Without another word, Merlin does just that and regretfully removes his hand from Eggsy’s cock to grope his arse. He kneads the flesh, slowly making his way over to Eggsy’s crack.

He watches it turn pink under his touch; a lovely wayward path that goes from arsecheek to the nape of Eggsy’s neck.

Merlin runs a finger in between the lad’s bottom until he stops short and releases a surprised gasp from his lips. Taking a step back, he pulls apart the flesh with his thumbs to reveal a black plug nestled into Eggsy’s hole. “Oh bloody Christ,” Merlin whispers, hoarsely.

Eggsy just laughs at him. “Thought you might enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” he says, unable to not imagine the lad prepping himself with lube and his fingers pumping in and out of his passage. He thumbs the plug, feeling the material on his skin and pressing down. Merlin delights in the ragged sound Eggsy makes. “Thought you’d waltz in here all loose and ready for me to slide into?”

The young man nods, shivering.

“Been thinking about it, have you?” Merlin asks as he teases Eggsy with the plug. He enjoys every hitch of breath, groaning as the lad stands in front of him.

Eggsy swallows audibly. “Been picturin’ me ridin’ you,” he admits, leaning back into Merlin’s chest. He turns his head, licking his lips as he does. “Havin’ your cock split me open, bruv.”

“Eggsy,” Merlin intones, easing the plug from the confines of Eggsy’s arse. It’s slicked with a generous amount of lube, which is just as well because it’s not like Merlin keeps it around his office. “Fuck.”

He removes himself from his trousers, shoving them down to mid-thigh once he’s seated in his chair. Merlin guides Eggsy over and helps him as he straddles his lap. His cock catches on the loose ring of muscle, causing Eggsy to hiss.

“Come on, Merlin,” the little shit begs, wiggling his hips. “Please!”

He shoves up into the gloriously tight, slick heat of Eggsy’s body and pauses to share a moan with the lad. Merlin grips his hips, using them as leverage for his thrusts once Eggsy indicates he’s ready to be fucked within an inch of his life.

Merlin mouths a nipple, sucking and tonguing the nub while he plunges deep into Eggsy’s hole. He brings it to the point of being over sensitized before doing the same to its twin and repeating the process.

When he’s finished, Merlin has created identical mouth shaped bruises around Eggsy’s nipples, both of them now a lovely shade of red and slick from his tongue.

“Fuck,” Eggsy cries, bearing down on the cock in his arse. His hot breath flows over Merlin’s damp forehead, blindly resting his mouth on the older man’s skin. “Oh fuck!”

Digging his fingers deeper, Merlin goes harder and angles the lad’s prostate. “Bloody Christ,” he groans, ignoring the mess of precum leaking from Eggsy’s cock to his jumper. “You’re so fucking tight. God.”

He forgets to tell Eggsy how amazing he feels and what the young man is doing to his senses. It’s just as well because if anything, Eggsy’s ego can inflate fairly easily.

Though, it’s always with merit.

One of Merlin’s hands drifts to the throbbing length and engulfs it in his fist, stroking in time with his thrusts. The instant reaction from Eggsy is delightful, all cursing and wanton moaning.

So what if Merlin is a bit too preoccupied to truly appreciate it?

“Merlin, bruv,” Eggsy whines, panting harshly. His bottom lip is red and wet from him biting it. “I’m not gonna last long.”

God, he wants to kiss him senseless.

With deft fingers, he undoes the tie around Eggsy’s eyes. A pair of green irises stares down at him, blinking as they adjust to the light. The pupil has swallowed most of the exquisite color, only leaving the thinnest of lines, but Merlin can’t help looking.

He moves his hand to clasp the nape of the knight’s neck, crushing their lips together. It’s a hungry kiss, echoing their encounter on the jet. Eggsy’s slick hole clenches tightly around his cock, fluttering and pulsing as he moans deeply into Merlin’s mouth. The sound becomes louder—frantic even—as his orgasm hits.

Eggsy’s release stripes the front of his jumper, causing its ruining, but Merlin can’t bring himself to care.

Not when he joins him a moment later, pumping into the depths of Eggsy’s arse and spilling himself without a single thought to the consequences.

So begins their extracurricular…relationship, he supposes.

The one where Merlin fucks Eggsy against any surface he can pin the little shut down on long enough to get his dick inside of him.

It’s not to say that they didn’t have a relationship before; things are different from Merlin being the taskmaster to Eggsy’s candidate for Kingsmanship. He monitored the lad’s progression through training, giving him sage advice and directions. Sometimes Merlin would throw in off-handed compliments to keep Eggsy’s spirits up while Harry laid unconscious in the infirmary, but that was the extent of things.

He always liked Eggsy being the dark horse and enjoyed the way he kept his fellow recruits on their toes, save for Roxy, who was his comrade in arms from the very beginning. The young man was brash, intelligent, thought outside of the box, and had more compassion than most people had in their bodies. And now they are using each other for sex. 

Fuck buddies, as one would refer to it for lack of a better word. A way to cope with the pain of losing Harry, whose death leaves a gaping hole in both men’s lives.

He’s lost a life-long friend, who was present at every milestone and heartache. Every memory Merlin has involves Harry in some way.

Meanwhile, Eggsy has lost the only person who’s given a shit about what becomes of him. The one person who believed that he could do better and rallied in his corner.

The person who has been violently taken from them and now, all they have is the pockets of time they are able to snatch.

Little moments where one of them drags the other off to an empty room, a seldom-used corridor, wherever they can find privacy for a hushed encounter.

In all honesty, Merlin has lost count of how many instances he’s had Eggsy’s mouth crushed against his or tasted himself on the young man’s tongue following a blowjob that makes him weak in the knees.

He’s watched his semen dribbling out of the lad’s puffy arsehole and heard the husky whimpers Eggsy makes when he’s close.

Yet, other than what gets them off and their Kingsman personnel files, they don’t know much about each other.

Merlin thinks this is for the best, as neither man has the capacity to give much other than orgasms and witty banter with a knowing wink here and there.

It’s probably more intimate than he’s comfortable with, but Merlin isn’t about to complain when he’s getting off.

He’s sitting through a conference call between the United Kingdom, Asia, and American Kingsman operations when Eggsy slips into his office.

It’s one of the lad’s days off, judging by his casual attire—a grey jumper with a hint of a black t-shirt underneath the crew collar, jeans, and a pair of trainers…sans wings, thank goodness—and Merlin knows that he has better things to do.

He raises a brow and goes back to his task, ignoring Eggsy as he plops down in the seat next to his. At least Eggsy is respectful of his personal space and remains quiet as Merlin listens to the droll voice of a faceless knight. Who happens to be boring him to death.

And then there’s Eggsy, who is inching closer to him by using his foot to propel the wheels on the chair. He does it in a casual fashion, keeping his eyes occupied by the security screens. Merlin says nothing about it; he’s curious as to what this lad has in store for him and it’s not like the others can see the events unfolding.

He keeps his eyes on Eggsy. He slides from the chair without a sound and turns Merlin’s so that he’s kneeling in front of himself. Eggsy has a mischievous glint in his eyes and the way that his lips curl into a smirk causes Merlin’s cock to twitch in interest.

The lad surges forward, his hands skimming the tops of Merlin’s trouser-clad thighs until they reach the apex and halt. Eggsy makes no sudden movement and opts to glance up at Merlin, silently asking his permission to proceed.

Merlin slumps down in his chair ever so slightly and spreads his legs, a non-verbal invitation that brings a grin to Eggsy’s face.

Eggsy licks his lips as he settles between Merlin’s thighs, fingers moving towards his fly. He doesn’t utter a single word as he makes quick work of the older man’s belt, trouser button, and zipper. The way the lad moves carefully as if Merlin is a delicate thing that he would loathe to ruin.

A warm, calloused hand removes him from his underwear and trousers, slowly guiding him out until the still air of his office brushes over his length. Eggsy strokes him to full hardness, watching how Merlin reacts to his skilled ministrations before taking his cockhead into his mouth.

Merlin inhales sharply as the knight’s tongue dips into his foreskin and teases the flare of his head. He rests a hand on the top of Eggsy’s skull, burying his fingers into the haphazard strands of light brown hair. Tapping his headset, Merlin puts himself on mute as a precaution and it’s just in time for Eggsy to take him deeper.

The boy’s mouth is a hot, greedy thing and loves to think of new ways to bring Merlin to the cusp of reason. His tongue swirls from the tip and down his shaft where his lips meet his fist. His tongue drags up and down, teasing his leaking slit and the base of him. He pulls off Merlin and goes to lick his bollocks, sucking on one and then the other.

He releases a shuddering breath and clutches onto Eggsy’s hair just a bit tighter when he feels the young man’s hot, wet lips engulf him once more. “Fuck,” he utters, quivering with need. He closes his eyes, drawing his teeth over his bottom lip.

Eggsy’s mouth is more than halfway down his shaft, his muscles working feverishly to bring Merlin off. The suction, the slip of tongue—it’s maddening.

And not nearly enough.

Merlin groans and jerks his hips as his cock hits the back of Eggsy’s throat. The lad whimpers, nearly sending the older man into a tailspin. The vibration spreads through his body as Merlin rests both hands on Eggsy’s head, setting the pace and depth of how he wants it.

Eggsy glances up at him, green eyes nearly black and watering from the effort with his mouth stretched over Merlin’s length. His lips are cherry red and spit slick like a bloody pornographic film come to life.

“Goddammit,” the tech wizard utters, canting his hips faster. He feels his bollocks drawing up into his body along with an unflagging burn in his groin. Merlin mutters incoherently as he fucks into Eggsy’s mouth, pressing the young man’s face into his pubic bone. “Fuck, Eggsy.”

It’s his moan that sets off Merlin’s release; a wicked sound that lights him on fire as he shoots his load down Eggsy’s throat.

Twitching and grunting, he falls into a pleasant stupor as Eggsy coaxes the rest of his semen out. Merlin drops his hands from Eggsy’s hair with a heavy sigh, mind dizzy from orgasm.

The same hands that removed him from his trousers tuck him back in once he’s gone soft and buckles his belt.

He opens his eyes to find Eggsy looking like a right mess with saliva smeared on his chin and a fleck of Merlin’s semen on his upper lip. Merlin watches in rapt fascination as the lad licks it away while getting to his feet, revealing his own erection.

Eggsy grins wickedly as he bends over and pecks Merlin’s cheek. “Best thing I’ve tasted, bruv,” he whispers into his colleague’s ear.

The cheeky berk saunters to the door, and it’s as he’s leaving Merlin realizes he’s in over his head.

Chapter Text

Merlin starts to get ideas; fantasies, really.

About all the ways he can have Eggsy. How he could wreck him from the inside out until he’s a mess of trembling, sweaty limbs. To fuck him in the Kingsman study on the second floor in the east wing or perhaps, handcuff his slender wrists to his own bed, stretching him taut against dark sheets.

Maybe to see how he’d look with a vibrator nestled into the tight bud of his arsehole, shaking and gasping while Merlin watches. He can imagine the way lust creeps into his eyes, making the irises dark and glistening with unshed tears and the redness of his plump lips after he’s bitten them.

He wants to taste him and take his time with Eggsy’s body, appreciating it with hands, lips, and tongue. Done without all the rush and quiet encounters, but in the comfort of Merlin’s bedroom walls.

To skim his tongue over ridges created by abdominal muscles or feel the warmth of delicate skin from Eggsy’s inner thighs against the palm of his hands. To see how dark his hair becomes once it’s laden with perspiration. Smell his musk after Merlin has had his wicked way with him.

Merlin will do anything, anything just to hear Eggsy calling out his name, all hoarse and delirious.

Absolutely lovely.

And absolutely fucked.

He begins with a text message.

What are your plans for this evening? Merlin asks, all formal and polite. 

It’s a simple sentence comprised of a question. A long-awaited one, at that,  and then he waits as the minutes tick by until it’s answered.

While the need to feel Eggsy’s arsehole sunk around his cock borders on obsessive, he has real responsibilities to contend with. His libido can wait. Maybe.

Hopefully.

Merlin sends the text off without a second thought during a morning debriefing between himself, Bors, and Arthur. A smirk tugs at his lips as his iPad emits a swooshing sound as his message travels through signals and satellites to reach its destination.

He is speaking with Roxy when Eggsy’s reply causes his phone to vibrate. At first glance, it’s so very Eggsy that Merlin can imagine the cheeky shit whispering it into the shell of his ear.

I suspect you have some for me, it reads; it’s enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation.

For some reasons due to Eggsy’s age and usual brash manner, Merlin expected an emoji or two, but he is pleased when there is none. It’s incredibly simplistic and drifting under the proverbial radar, which happens to be the basis of their entire sexual relationship.

He half expected Eggsy to shout from the rooftop of the Kingsman mansion that he and Merlin had started fucking or to walk around with his chest puffed up like a proud peacock. Merlin has been used to the younger set of Kingsman agents who are pompous arseholes with their smirks and disregard for discretion.

And then there is Eggsy Unwin, who keeps aspects of his private life and liaisons to himself.

He shouldn’t be surprised, the lad has been nothing but that since their introduction outside the candidate dormitory.

As he texts a time and the address to his Chelsea flat, Merlin wonders what Harry would make of all this between his protégé and his best mate.

Was this something his friend saw in the making, long before either he or Eggsy did?

What would he say when Merlin would end up telling him that he bedded the lad and dreamt of his body under his almost every night?

That the way Eggsy said his name, whether it be casually or in the throes of passion, makes his skin feel like it was too tight?

Or on an overcast day, the lake just beyond the Kingsman mansion reminded Merlin of the green in the lad’s eyes?

Would that enigmatic chuckle escape his lips or would Harry be cross? Had he planned to have Eggsy for himself, when the proper time came about?

Or did he simply see a second chance to fix the error of Lee Unwin’s death in his son?

Either way, Merlin will never know, since the dead keep their secrets.

Eggsy arrives on time and wearing one of his bespoke suits under a pea coat.

When Merlin answers the door, he is met by a signature Unwin grin. “Punctual,” he tells the lad as he stands aside to let him in.

“It’s only polite, guv,” Eggsy replies while he surveys the flat, nimble fingers unbuttoning his coat until its hanging open. “Surprised you don’t have one of ‘em mews houses like everyone else.”

He never sought out a house like many of his colleagues and opted for something smaller. It’s not to say that his flat is tiny by any means; it’s one hundred-fifty square meters comprised of clean, modern lines. The walls and ceilings are stark white, save for certain areas that have been painted a slate color, highlighting the distressed hardwood floor. The kitchen and dining area open to the main floor, partially separated by a half wall with a hand-painted map of London done by a friend, including a very cheeky ‘you are here’ and a line pointing to Merlin’s neighborhood. Then there is the living room, raised on a platform, which holds his prized mid-century modern club chairs and vinyl collection.

Everything in his flat fits together, as Merlin enjoys the symmetry of some sort, and having Eggsy here is strangely comforting.

He steps towards the panel of picture windows that overlook the London skyline. “Is that the Eye?”

Merlin is shutting the front door when the question is asked. He turns to watch Eggsy appreciating the view as he folds his coat over an arm. “Yes,” he replies, dourly. “That would be the infamous London Eye. A glorified Ferris wheel, if you ask me.”

“Small mercy that Lonely Planet or Frommer's doesn’t consult you,” Eggsy quips. He glances over at Merlin and raises a brow. “You’re rather dressed down.”

“I’m in my own house,” Merlin scoffs. He’s removed his sweater and traded his trousers for denim ones, though he hardly looks like a slouch. Tugging at a belt loop, he adds, “These are designer.”

Eggsy gets a mischievous glint in his eyes and drops his coat onto the hardwood floor. “Are they?” he questions as he goes to sink to his knees. “Should probably take a gander. Don’t want someone rippin’ you off, bruv.”

“Ah,” Merlin says, grabbing the lad by his bicep. “None of that right now. Let us have a drink.”

Eggsy appears puzzled as he’s lead over to the kitchen, where Merlin deposits him on a bar stool. “Uh,” he sounds, mouth slack and turned into an upside down U. “What am I doin’ here then?”

“Don’t be confused,” Merlin tells him as he grabs a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. “I am going to fuck you until your brains are leaking out your ears, but I do not lack manners.” He pours a finger into each glass and slides one over to Eggsy. “Cheers.”

Eggsy takes the glass and inspects it closely. “There’s no roofie or poison in here, yeah?”

“Not unless you want me to add one,” Merlin answers with a smirk. He brings the rim to his lips, taking a sip while watching Eggsy.

He finally takes a drink, smacking his lips together. “Not bad,” the young man attests. “Smooth.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he chuckles. Merlin goes to lean over the counter, glass in hand and makes a study of Eggsy.

He seems to be at ease with his surroundings, which is imperative for a Kingsman—and completely oblivious to the effect he has on Merlin.

Or perhaps Eggsy feels the same way about being in Merlin’s presence and, like Merlin, is well versed in concealing it.

“Never thought I’d see where you live,” the young man comments. He slides his suit jacket off his body, draping it upon the back of his seat. Underneath the navy fabric is a starched white dress shirt, all pressed and smooth on Eggsy’s body. He goes to undo the first two buttons, thus exposing the elegant line of his neck. “Nice setup you got.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Contrary to what is whispered about me in the hallways, I do have a social life,” he grumbles, taking another sip.

“Usin’ excuses now,” Eggsy snorts, winking one of his green eyes. “Was wonderin’ when you’d get tired of fuckin’ me on your desk.”

He moves closer, coming into the young man’s sphere and towering over him. “I don’t think I’ll tire of you bent over my desk,” Merlin states, reaching out to brush his thumb against Eggsy’s jaw. “You take it so well.”

Eggsy’s eyes flutter to a close as he leans into the older man’s touch. He turns with Merlin’s movements until a finger catches on his bottom lip, prompting him to open his eyes. Looking up at Merlin, he runs his tongue along the pad of digit.

Merlin shivers. “Eggsy,” he whispers, pressing the finger into the hot cavern of the young man’s mouth. He groans at the first sensation of suction and watches while his lover fellates it. “Such a greedy mouth and always having something in it. I watch you during the Round Table meetings sometimes; gnawing on a pen cap or your fingernails. Always putting yourself to work.”

Eggsy’s breathing hitches in his throat.

“Are you picturing my cock when you do it?” Merlin asks, tilting his head. “I bet you try to keep yourself occupied so no one knows how much you want me fucking your mouth.” He pushes his finger deeper into Eggsy’s mouth, running it over the rough texture of his tongue. “Or how much I enjoy it.”

He watches the young man’s pupils dilate; swallowing all of the green until only a thin line is left. A flush spreads upon Eggsy’s cheeks while his breathing comes in quick gasps from flared nostrils.

“Is that what you want me to do? Fuck your mouth?” Merlin feels the sharp edge of teeth scrape against the pad of his finger. He hisses as his cock presses insistently against the zipper of his denim trousers. “Do you think you could take it again?”

Eggsy nods, mouth releasing Merlin and planting open mouth kisses against his skin. “I want it so bad, bruv,” he admits, pressing his face into the older man’s palm. “You gonna give it to me again?”

Merlin ponders this while stroking the young man’s lips, marveling at their softness. His hand slips down to his chin, curling around it and drawing him closer until their mouths are pressed together in a kiss. Merlin tastes the burn of scotch and something undefined that is singularly Eggsy.

He cups Eggsy’s face like a precious object, igniting a muffled sound from him as Merlin guides him to his feet. Capable hands find his waist, fingers grasping the cotton of his t-shirt before moving up Merlin’s back and coming to rest against his shoulder blades.

They drift towards Merlin’s bedroom, taking each step with care. Eggsy’s hands glide under his t-shirt, caressing the skin he finds as the older man gets to work on his neck and sucks a tender love bite just below his jaw.

“I’d like to cuff to you to my bed,” he intones, the tip of his tongue tracing Eggsy’s earlobe. “If you are amenable to it.”

Eggsy quivers against him and drops his head into the curve of Merlin’s neck. “You’re gonna murder me, bruv.”

“That’s a yes, I take it?” Merlin inquires, pulling back and gazing at the young man’s face. He expects the usual bravado only to find unadulterated want written into Eggsy’s features.

There is beauty in the rawness of Eggsy’s desire. Eggsy Unwin is a remarkable specimen of a human male, which goes without saying. It’s way his entire being shifts is what sets him apart, at least in Merlin’s eyes.

For a brief moment, he wonders if Eggsy’s other lovers would have noticed this and decides that it’s unlikely, for they would have never let the lad escape through their fingers.

Pressing a series of gentle pecks along his lover’s jaw—just one of many favorite parts of his on Eggsy’s body—Merlin murmurs, “Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck yes,” Eggsy replies, pressing himself against Merlin. His erection rubs against Merlin’s thigh. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Merlin chuckles at the statement as he brings their lips back together. He walks the lad backward, undoing his belt buckle and pulling the tails of Eggsy’s shirt from his trousers. Underneath is his warm flesh which Merlin digs his fingers into.

Once they are in the bedroom, he starts to undress his lover as quickly as he can. It’s not like their previous encounters, all of which skirted the line of rough sex. As he removes Eggsy’s clothes, Merlin does so with care and without the intention of marking him. Yet.

As he lifts each of the lad’s feet onto his knees to divest them of his Oxfords and socks, Merlin is gentle. He bestows a kiss to a well-defined calf, feeling the fine hairs brush against his stubble and lips. Glancing up, he finds himself falling into the mossy green pools of Eggsy’s eyes.

“Are you makin’ love to me, bruv?” the young man inquires, looking astonished in the light of Merlin’s bedroom.

He smirks as he inches the bespoke trousers down his lover’s legs, revealing a pair of grey cotton boxer briefs. They cling obscenely to the outline of Eggsy’s hard cock and Merlin finds himself having a difficult time suppressing his moan. “Would you like me to?”

“A question to answer a question,” Eggsy grouses despite the upward tug of his lips. He tilts his head, shifting the shadows on his face. “I’m kinda interested in what you have in store for me. No doubt it will make my brains leak out of my head.”

Merlin makes a tsking noise, shaking his head as he pulls the trousers off and tosses them carelessly onto the floor. He turns his attention to the inseam of Eggsy’s leg and pays tribute with his mouth. “Can’t have that,” he whispers, flicking out his tongue to tease. He chases it with a graze of his teeth, sending a shiver down his lover’s body. “I rather enjoy your brain.”

Laughter fills the room. “And here I thought you wanted my body,” Eggsy quips as Merlin nears his inner thigh. He groans as Merlin’s tongue paints an invisible line just under the hem of his underwear. “Oh, fuck me. You’re a menace, you are!”

“I think you enjoy it,” Merlin replies before mouthing a wet trail up the boxer briefs.

He takes his time with dampening the fabric, leaving an imprint of his lips and tongue in his wake. Merlin laves Eggsy’s testicles until his lover speaks in the most ungentlemanly fashion and the front of his underwear is wet with Merlin’s saliva.

Eggsy is panting by the time the older man’s fingers latch onto the waistband of his boxer briefs. “You admirin’ my undergarments?” he moans as Merlin nuzzles the trail of hair leading into the article of clothing.

“Just trying to get you desperate,” he says. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces his name into Eggsy’s pelvis. As he finishes the last letter, Merlin tugs the waistband down a bit more to expose more skin. “Is it working?”

He receives a groan in response. “You’re gonna kill me,” Eggsy keens, shivering. Their eyes meet just as the base of Eggsy’s shaft is exposed to the warm air of Merlin’s bedroom. “Are you gettin’ me back for all the times I ran my mouth or broke somethin’? Because if you are…”

“I haven’t the luxury of time in our previous encounters,” he explains. He nips at Eggsy’s hip bone. “And now that it’s available to us, I would like to enjoy it to the last millisecond.”

“You mean to say torture me,” Eggsy counters.

Merlin shakes his head in disagreement as he continues to disrobe him. “No, no, no. That’s later.” He pulls the underwear down the swell of Eggsy’s thighs and lets them pool around his ankles.

For all the times they’ve fucked over the past half year, Merlin hasn’t had his mouth on his lover’s cock as much as he’d like. They usually skip foreplay, given the constraints around their encounters, so yes, he’s going to savor this.

Eggsy cries out when Merlin runs his tongue from base to tip before swallowing him down. He licks the salty flesh, teasing and tasting as the amount of suction his mouth produces increasing until the young man doubles over.

Then Merlin keeps Eggsy on the edge of coming for ages. He moans as the purest essence of his lover leaks onto his tongue and does everything he can to have more. Eggsy curses at him when he’s not emitting the most wanton of sounds. As he goes to fondle his balls, Eggsy stutters a breath and warns, “I’m close.”

“Can’t have that,” Merlin says once he’s released the cock from his mouth with an obscene pop. He stands and marches Eggsy over to his bed, where he spreads him over the dark grey comforter. Hovering above his lover, Merlin kisses him as he guides Eggsy into position before handcuffing one wrist followed by the other to the headboard.

Eggsy gives each one a tug. “Aren’t these Kingsman issued?” he asks, looking back at the older man.

“Perhaps,” Merlin replies with a shrug. He leans towards the bedside table and pulls open a drawer.

“Did you steal them?” the young man chuckles. “You’s a petty theft, you are! I ought to tell Arthur ‘bout this! Stealin’ from the hand that feeds you. Have you no scruples, bruv?”

He snorts, knowing that Eggsy is just teasing, and turns back to the young man, holding a silver bullet vibrator and a bottle of lube. “I need my kicks,” Merlin admits. His eyes roam over his lover’s body all spread out for him, wondering how long he’ll be able to hold out until the need to fuck Eggsy into the mattress takes over. “What to do with you…”

“Fuck me, of course,” Eggsy suggests with a cheeky grin. “Make me beg for it, while you’re at it. Or scream; whatever you want. Hope you got soundproof walls, mate, cos the neighbors will probably call the coppers on us.”

Merlin shoots him a glare. “Not if I gag you,” he threatens as he uncaps the lube to pour a bit on his fingers.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Eggsy pouts with a wink. “You love it when you can hear me.”

He shrugs because while Eggsy is absolutely correct, Merlin knows better than to tell him. “Evidently not as much as you love hearing yourself,” Merlin replies as he warms the liquid in a circular motion and settles himself between Eggsy’s outstretched legs. He leans over the lad’s body, mouthing his way up the muscled torso until he traps his lover’s bottom lip between his own.

The cuffs’ chains rattle as Eggsy tries to move closer, followed by a muffled whine. It’s swallowed by Merlin’s tongue and lips licking their way into Eggsy’s mouth as slick fingers make their way down. At the first swipe against his lover’s puckered hole, the older man moans.

He wets the skin, ensuring that he won’t cause Eggsy any harm before sinking the first finger inside. It seems that his arsehole sucks Merlin in; wanting Merlin’s digit almost as much he wants to be buried deep inside.

Eggsy cants his hips in time with Merlin’s movements, his cock rubbing against Merlin’s forearm. He shudders as a second finger is added, panting hotly into his lover’s mouth before dropping his head against the pillows. “Oh fuck! You’re gonna make me cum like this,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit!”

“Not yet,” Merlin assures, squeezing the base of Eggsy’s cock. “I have so much more in store for you, dearest.”

Once Eggsy is loose enough, he removes his fingers to replace them with the vibrator. It’s a small device coated with silver, very deceptive and unassuming to most. Merlin won’t admit it aloud, but he purchased it with his lover in mind, hoping that he would get to use one day.

“Is this alright?” he asks, holding the toy up for Eggsy’s perusal.

Eggsy licks his lips, studying the object between Merlin’s fingers and finally nods his approval. “It doesn’t have some sort of amnesia-inducing shock, does it?”

“God, no,” Merlin says, coating the vibrator in lube. He circles the device around Eggsy’s puffy hole for a moment or three, wanting to keep his lover in anticipation until he inserts it slowly.

Eggsy cries out, body taut as the handcuffs hold him back. “Oh,” he gasps, his head thrown back and exposing his lovely neck. “Merlin…”

“I know,” he whispers, watching as the toy disappears between the lad’s clenching arsehole. “You need a safeword, just in case if it becomes too much.”

“Brogues,” Eggsy whispers, smirking. “Not gonna say that in the heat of the moment, yeah?”

With an eye roll, he goes back to the drawer to retrieve the vibrator’s remote, not warning his lover when he turns it on. Merlin grins as Eggsy’s hips lift off the mattress, his body shuddering at the sudden sensations. “Much lovelier than I imagined.”

Eggsy bucks his hips, digging his heels into the comforter under him for leverage. A neat row of teeth draws over his bottom lip, turning it red and slick and gasping when Merlin changes the vibrations to a higher setting.

“Oh fuckin’, bloody Christ!” Eggsy shouts, squeezing his eyes shut. His face and chest take on a blush as sweat gathers on his skin. The vibrator must brush against his prostate for Eggsy’s eyes fly open as a full body shudder overwhelms him.

Merlin, despite the hardening of his own cock, keeps calm while he surveys the spectacle on his bed. To have Eggsy gasping, panting, and moaning right in front of him as a steady stream of precum pools onto the lad’s stomach and pelvis…he’s amazed he still has his clothes on. “Do you think you could cum without me touching you?”

He switches settings once again and is greeted by the sight of Eggsy’s incoherent cry as he shoots his load all over his torso.

“That answers that,” Merlin deadpans as he sets the remote next to Eggsy’s thigh. He stands up as his lover begins to regain his breath. “Wonder how many you got in in that cock of yours. Perhaps I should just stand here and watch you until you pass out?”

He runs a finger through the mess on Eggsy’s stomach and brings it to his mouth to suck on. Humming in appreciation, Merlin lowers his mouth to Eggsy’s ear. The clean scent of damp skin meets his nostrils; the very thing he dreamed of. “Best thing I’ve tasted, dearest,” he whispers huskily, earning a groan of remembrance from Eggsy.

“Vindictive, you are,” his lover complains.

Merlin reaches between Eggsy’s arse cheeks to press the vibrator against the lad’s sensitive prostate, earning a string of curse words. “This is vindictive,” he tells him, enjoying the sight of his lover squirming while his cock which lies limp and damp against his hip twitches in interest.

“You’s a twat,” Eggsy grunts out ten minutes later, his teeth gnashed so tightly that it makes Merlin’s jaw ache just be looking at it. His flushed cock has become hard once again.

Merlin remains by the bed to enjoy seeing his lover’s very beautiful and vocal struggle. “You are more than correct, Eggsy,” Merlin agrees as he removes his shirt and lets it drop to the floor. His trousers and underwear join the article of clothing moments later, leaving him standing naked in front of the other man.

“Fuck, you’re bloody gorgeous,” his lover exclaims, green eyes roaming over Merlin’s body.

He prides himself on spending quality time in the gym, despite being nearly fifty years of age. Time has been good to Merlin’s looks and he takes a measure of smug satisfaction that a creature as beautiful as Eggsy is gawking at him. Merlin crawls onto the mattress, positioning himself between Eggsy’s legs. “My thanks,” he says, taking Eggsy in hand and stroking his length until his lover’s semen coats his fist and cries of pleasure ring in his ears.

“Please,” Eggsy begs, his voice breaking over the word. He looks at Merlin with glassy, dazed eyes, ruined so masterfully. “Please, Merlin. Fuck me, fuck me.” His pink tongue runs over his pout, slicking the reddened flesh. “I don’t want anythin’ else. Just you…please!”

“Such lovely promises,” the older man states as he reaches for Eggsy’s chin and forcing him to meet his dark stare. “You’d say anything to have my cock in you, hrm?”

Eggsy shakes his head. “No,” he keens, desperate. “No, I just want you! Haven’t even lookin’ at no one else since we started up.” He moves, nudging the vibrator inside of him and causing him to tremble. A pair of tears slides from beneath his lashes and falls down each pink cheek. “Brogues.”

The single word halts everything; Merlin’s never moved faster to ease the now powerless vibrator out of a lover’s body. Tossing the device away, he gets to work with the handcuffs while Eggsy’s face becomes damp with tears.

“It’s always been you,” he whimpers. “Don’t want anyone else, Merlin, just you. I ain’t jokin’ ‘round neither. Been wantin’ to tell you for ages…”

Merlin releases the cuffs from Eggsy’s wrists and watches as his lover’s arms fall to either side of his body. He cups the other man’s face, wiping it his thumbs and chasing their wake with gentle kisses until his mouth finds his lover’s. Eggsy tastes like the tang of sex and bitterness of tears, so hot and wanting that Merlin believes he could kiss this man until the end of time itself.

Their bodies give in and seek each other out until Merlin pushes inside of him and Eggsy’s confessions fill his ears with each slow thrust.

It’s not even half five when he wakes up to the sound of rain thumping against the window.

Merlin goes to stretch and remembers Eggsy is in his bed when his forearm touches him. He looks over to see his lover on his stomach, snoring softly with his face is turned away. The bed sheets dip low on his body, exposing his back and a sliver of his bum. He spies the group of beauty marks that resemble the constellation Ursa Major and end at the base of Eggsy’s spine. Merlin discovered them and that the rest his lover’s skin was littered with clusters of freckles not all that long ago and included a batch shaped like an archer’s bow on his lover’s right hip. All of it seems to be designed to destroy every last bit of Merlin’s common sense.

He wants to touch Eggsy again, to hold him in his arms and feel the warmth of him against his own body. Propping himself up, Merlin observes his lover in the early morning light. How long he stays like that, he doesn’t know. Merlin must drift off again, for he wakes up facing Eggsy, who is just starting to stir from his own slumber. 

Eggsy shifts and yawns, grumbling a string of incoherent words as he rolls onto his back. While Eggsy palms his face, Merlin catches the faint handcuff mark on his wrist; he had rubbed cream into both of them after a soak in his tub, not wanting them to bruise or pain his lover terribly. A pair of sleepy green eyes draw Merlin from his stare and he grins down at Eggsy. “You watchin’ me sleep?” his lover inquires, smiling.

“I was earlier,” Merlin confesses, watching as Eggsy inches closer until he curls around Merlin and rests his head on his shoulder. He welcomes the weight of the other man against his body and wraps his free arm around him. “I must have dozed until a few moments ago.”

Eggsy makes himself comfortable and nuzzles into Merlin’s side. “Sorry for borin’ ya, then.”

“You are anything but boring,” he says, running a hand up and down Eggsy’s back. “If I had any hair to begin with, I have no doubts that it would all be grey by now.”

“You like that I keep you on your toes,” his lover replies, sounding far too pleased with him. “Keeps things interestin’.”

They lapse into silence, both of them nearly falling back asleep until Eggsy pipes up. “Are we gonna give this a proper go then?” he asks. “Like an actual relationship instead of just fuckin’ all over HQ?”

“I would like that,” Merlin replies truthfully.

He’s buried down those thoughts with ones of a sexual nature, not wanting to gamble on a thin sliver of hope that Eggsy would desire something more. Upon hearing his lover’s confession that he wanted just him—a man more than half his age—makes Merlin incredibly elated.

“Oi!” Eggsy exclaims, sitting up quite suddenly with a scowl. “That’s all you got, bruv? I would like that?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Do you want me down on one knee with a fucking bouquet?”

“Isn’t that what you gentlefolk do?” Eggsy snickers. “Woo me, old man!”

He finds himself joining in with Eggsy’s laughter and pulls his lover into his arms, kissing and caressing him. Merlin rests his lips against Eggsy’s temple, sighing contently.

“So this is real, yeah?” the lad questions as he traces a circle in the center of Merlin’s chest.

“Aye,” he says. “Still going to fuck your brains out over my desk.”

Eggsy’s body trembles in time with a husky chuckle. “Good.”

Seven days pass since they’ve decided to give a proper relationship a go; five since Eggsy left on an undercover assignment in Belarus.

He’s due back the day after next, having gathered a significant amount of intel on a heroin ring operating in the city of Brest. Once Eggsy has had his mandatory twenty-four rest period, Merlin is going to take them out on their first real date.

It’s a standard classic—dinner and a film. Neither of them is the flashy sort, which is perfect for them. He’s already made the reservations and gone online to purchase cinema tickets. Merlin’s a bit nervous; he hasn’t dated in quite some time and it’s with Eggsy, someone whose constant presence he treasures.

Perhaps it will be enough to distract Eggsy from the continuous jokes having to do with the Belarusian city’s name.

“For fuck’s sake, Galahad, it’s pronounced Brisk, not breast,” Merlin has had to grumble into the communications system, trying to keep his composure because, Jesus, the little shit knows how to get under his skin.

Of course, Eggsy finds this downright hilarious and is in stitches for a good five minutes before he chirps, “Ah man, Merlin, why you gotta spoil my fun, bruv?”

Instead of answering Merlin gets right back to business and monitors Eggsy’s movements as he interacts with the seedier population of the Eastern European republic. Because of the assignment’s nature, they aren’t allowed to speak on the phone when Eggsy has downtime, which isn’t often.

So long as Merlin can hear Eggsy’s voice through his headset, he reckons he can make it through the next forty-eight hours.

It’s around dinner time when Roxy finds him in the cafeteria while he’s filling his mug with another helping of black coffee. He hears the click of her heels against the floor, knowing it’s her long before she greets him.

Besides, it’s his job to know things.

“What can I do for you, Lancelot?” Merlin inquires, turning around with the mug close to his face. The intoxicating smell of caffeine fills his nostrils and perks up his flagging energy. Over the thick rim of his glasses, Roxy’s troubled expression is horribly evident and Merlin feels his stomach twisting into painful knots.

“What?” he rasps, thinking of all the terrifying scenarios and realizing each one ends with his lover. “What is it? Is it Galahad?”

She swallows just as her bright eyes blink rapidly; undoubtedly trying to keep her tears at bay. “He’s been taken, sir,” Roxy whispers.

Merlin doesn’t realize he’s dropped the mug until the sound of it shattering on the floor echoes all around them.

Chapter Text

How he ends up sitting at the Round Table, Merlin will never know.

Certainly, his feet carried him, but the event is completely blocked from memory until he finds himself seated across from the new Arthur. Next to her is Roxy, flanked by Percival, who is his usual stoic self. There are others as well, but Merlin can hardly pay any mind to them.

Eggsy, he thinks. His stomach rolls painfully as he dwells on him, every single scenario running through his head. From the absurd to the very worst, he doesn’t do himself any favors and prays to every deity that his lover will not meet the same fate as his predecessor.

Arthur’s posh voice punctures through Merlin’s thoughts. “Agents,” she greets as she removes her glasses from a simple leather case. “Glasses, if you will.”

He realizes that his own pair of Kingsman issued spectacles is in his hand rather than on his face. Robotically, Merlin unfolds the temples and slips them on like the others in the room.

“Ten minutes after twenty hundred hours, Galahad’s cover was compromised and he was abducted from the flat we had installed him in during his mission in Brest,” Arthur explains. All business much like Chester King, that’s where the similarities between him and the Marchioness Flora d'Eresby-Lennox of Willingdon end. A member of the British Peerage, she is refined, shrewdly intelligent, has excellent marksmanship, and is uncommonly loyal to those who serve under her. “His Belarusian counterpart, Razin, was found strangled to death in the alley with a garrote comprised of wire.”

An image of the fallen agent appears in his lenses; a young man who is distinctly Slavic and wearing a bespoke suit.

“Our friends in Belarus were able to download the feed from Galahad’s glasses, though they were damaged in the scuffle,” Arthur explains as the photograph disappears, giving way to crisp video.

It’s the two-room flat that Eggsy has been staying in during his assignment; dingy and stark with not a lot of natural light. A single table with two chairs sits off to the side in front of a kitchenette. The well-used piece of furniture rests up against the back of a sofa that has been far better days, probably during the Cold War.

A sliver of the full bed can be seen, neatly made with a beaten paperback novel resting on the pillow.

The feed begins to play, catching Eggsy coming out of the bathroom. For the sake of the mission, he’s without the standard bespoke suit as it has no place in the seedy underworld of the Belarusian drug trade. He wears a frayed Madras plaid button-down over a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Whistling, Eggsy walks to the kitchen table where the glasses sit and puts them on, showing the room his point of view.

Merlin recognizes the tune. Loch Lomond, he muses to himself while simultaneously tugging at his heart. A lump suddenly pushes against his throat, aching as tears sting his eyes. He had whistled it as he made himself and Eggsy breakfast the morning after he spent the night. Merlin swallows it down and continues to watch.

Someone knocks at the door, which earns Eggsy’s attention. In rudimentary Belarusian, he calls to the person on the other side to tell them that he’ll be there in just a moment as he grabs his gun.

A moment passes as Eggsy crosses the room and the door gets kicked open, hard enough to make it fly off the hinges. Eggsy shields himself, blocking the video feed for mere seconds. As his arms go down, a man with stark white skin and greasy dark features angles his fist for Eggsy’s face.

The feed cuts out with a sharp sibilant sound, though the audio still goes on. A scuffle fills the room, interceded by various men cursing until it ends with Eggsy’s pained shout and then silence.

Deafening, horrible silence.

Roxy speaks first. “Have we been able to trace the GSP signal from Galahad’s glasses?” she inquires.

“If they haven’t been knocked off his face,” grumbles Uther, characteristically his dour self.

Arthur turns her bespectacled stare at him, clearly annoyed by his comment. “Galahad’s glasses were, in fact, missing from the scene,” she confirms. “It is safe to assume that they are still in his possession.” A rare smile crosses her lips when Arthur addresses Roxy with a nod. “To answer Lancelot’s question, we have not. It seems that his captors are still moving him to a secure location within the city.”

A map of Brest is pulled up; slowing a blinking dot that one can assume is Eggsy.

“Has there been any more audio?” Merlin asks, turning to Arthur.

She shakes her head. “Nothing discernible.”

“Then Galahad has been incapacitated,” Percival surmises, earning a nod of acknowledgment from their superior.

Merlin draws a shuddering breath; just thinking about Eggsy in any condition but healthy and whole makes him want to flee to Belarus. “Why are we sitting here then?”

“I beg your pardon, Merlin,” Arthur says sharply.

He turns to her. “My apologies,” Merlin tells the room. “It’s imperative that our branch is on the ground rather than conducting a meeting. We need to extract Egg-Galahad before his captors cause him further injury.”

“The Belarusian branch can handle it; it’s their jurisdiction,” Uther states. He is one of the agents handpicked by Chester and holds no love for Eggsy.

Roxy glares at the older man. “I agree with Merlin, madam,” she says to Arthur. “While the Belarusian agents will perform admirably, it would be a gesture of goodwill to offer assistance in eliminating this threat who has already killed one of their own.”

Arthur ponders this, pursing her lips together as she removes her glasses and levels her stare at those sitting around the table. The internal debate she is undoubtedly having is masked by her game face, thanks to years of being in the Kingsman service.

“I have the strangest feeling that if I decline your request, one of our jets will be missing from the hangar before breakfast,” she comments, eyes shifting from Roxy to Percival, Kay, Bors, Lamorak and finally, Merlin.

She’s right, of course. Aside from himself, Roxy, and Percival, the other agents are quite fond of Eggsy. They are a bit older than the newest recruits and yet welcomed both Eggsy and Roxy with open arms.

Since V-Day, they’ve become a strange, deadly family of sorts, more protective over each other than before. Merlin has seen their bond outside of work: going out to drinks, watching football at one of their homes, attend concerts and such.

Of course, these men and women would do anything to bring back one of their own. Hell, even if he wasn’t involved with Eggsy, Merlin would certainly be one of the first leading the charge.

“You have my permission to travel to Belarus,” Arthur tells them. She turns to him. “Archimedes will be ready for departure in one hour. Lancelot, Percival, Lamorak, and Kay will accompany you with Bors as the pilot. Have your team assist our Belarusian agents with pinpointing Galahad’s location and developing an extraction strategy. This meeting is adjourned.”

They hear nothing for three hours.

To say it’s the single most terrifying and longest three hours of Merlin’s life is a vast understatement. While he monitors multiple feeds emitting signals from Eggsy’s glasses, he frets. There is only painful silence when static doesn’t intermittently cut in. He knows that his lover is still alive, though if his vitals are anything to go by, Eggsy is unconscious.

The hills and valleys of his heartbeat are steady on Merlin’s tablet screen and for now, it has to be enough.

The flight is very tense, possibly more so than V-Day when it was just Roxy, Eggsy, and himself trying to save the world. He hears the murmur of Lamorak and Kay speaking with Roxy about their colleague’s last location and the potential threats in that area. Percival has joined Bors in the cockpit while Merlin secludes himself towards the back of the jet.

He recalls the last time he was here; when he and Eggsy fucked against the very bar standing across from Merlin’s seat. A specter of their figures like cigarette smoke rutting against the counter appears in his memories and vanishes, leaving a hollow ache in his chest.

The stain from the fallen bottle of scotch is long gone, but he knows where to find it. It’s like a scar that will never truly fade; the only physical sign of their animalistic encounter.

I can’t lose you, Merlin thinks to himself, ironic given their line of work.

Death is always waiting in the shadows, biding its time until he’s ready to claim another agent. If Merlin has anything to say about it, it will not be Eggsy.

As long as he draws a breath, it will never be his lover.

They land at the Belarusian headquarters, a country estate that once belonged to a poet as it seems. It is an impressive piece of property that lies a little less than fifteen kilometers from Brest proper, built in the Baroque style with a dash of Georgian thrown in, as evident in the columns situated in the front of the manor house.

A woman waits for them at the mouth of the hangar, holding a tablet to her chest. She steps forward once they have disembarked the jet and extends her hand to Merlin. “Dabro zaprašajem,” the woman greets in Belarusian. “Welcome. I am Hetman, our branch’s chief technology officer. I worked closely with agents Galahad and Razin on this assignment and have been monitoring his frequencies since his abduction.”

The group begins to walk towards the direction of the manor, falling into step with Hetman. She is straight to the point and doesn’t mince words as she divulges information about the drug ring that Eggsy and Razin were interacting with.

“Paviel Manionak,” Hetman announces, passing her tablet into Merlin’s waiting hands. “Born in Minsk to a Russian mother and a Belarusian father; he began as a delivery boy for Artem Vishnevsky.”

Merlin views the file drawn up on the device. Manionak is in his middle forties with receding black hair and beady brown eyes. A shifty and greasy character, he also has a history of violence, with multiple assault charges and a suspect in several homicides. If there are drug offenses, they don’t show up on his record or he hides his hand well.

“Galahad had contact with him?” he questions. To think of Eggsy in the same room as this fellow…it makes Merlin’s skin crawl.

Hetman nods. “He’s met with him twice, under the guise of a potential English buyer who has worked with Razin’s cover,” she explains.

“How was their cover blown?” Roxy inquires, taking the tablet from Merlin. She always asks the hard questions, having more courage than plenty of men Merlin has known through his life.

“We are uncertain,” Hetman replies, looking quite disturbed. “At the moment, our technology kamanda is working to boost the signal from Galahad’s glasses in hopes to pin down his location.”

Percival is peering over Roxy’s shoulder. “Have they stopped moving?”

“For now, it seems,” the Belarusian agent answers. She presses her hand against a computerized panel and, following a scan, a pair of double doors open. “Come along.”

The inside of the manor house is nearly identical to the English headquarters with stately furnishings and the latest technology, except their speech has been replaced by a flurry of Belarusian. Hetman takes them below the main floor, to where her team is gathered and working furiously.

One of the techs shouts excitedly something at them, Hetman responding back before addressing the English agents. “They’ve gotten audio,” she tells them. She switches to her native language once more, ordering them to put the sound on the speaker.

“Jak ciabie zvać?” asks a heavily accented voice. It’s Manionak, no doubt, and he sounds like he indulged in too many cigarettes and alcoholic beverages over the years. He repeats himself when Eggsy doesn’t respond, ending his question with a slap.

The sound makes Merlin recoil and silently seethe as he listens.

“I will not ask again,” Manionak tells Eggsy, this time in broken English.

Eggsy spits by the sound of it. “Can’t understand ya, bruv,” he says. “Gonna have to repeat that in my native language, yeah? Bein’ a dumb Northern lad and all.”

Chair legs scrape against the ground, causing everyone in the room to wince. Eggsy’s surprised shout follows, drowning out Manionak’s growl.

“Who are you?” he asks. Eggsy goes to answer, but the drug lord cuts him off. “No lies. I want your real name.”

Eggsy gets shoved back, the chair whining under his weight. “Told you,” he replies, dourly. “James Connelly.”

“I do not believe you, pacuk,” Manionak hisses.

Eggsy’s pained cry rings out as a fist makes contact with his body; where Merlin cannot say as they do not have the luxury of visuals. It is a miracle that the audio is even functioning judging by how hard Eggsy got hit. He turns to Hetman, who is busying herself by barking orders in Belarusian.

“You are a right twat, you know that?” Eggsy manages to rasp once he’s able to speak. “What the fuck is your problem, huh? Why all this dodgy shit?”

Another punch lands, followed by several more. Each one of Eggsy’s shouts makes everyone’s hair stand on end and for a moment, the room seems to pause in worry.

“Your face is quite davoli,” the drug lord observes. “Too bad I must bruise it. Unless…”

“How well does Galahad hold up under torture?” Hetman inquires, keeping her voice low. Her eyes meet Merlin’s and he knows what she’s asking.

Will Eggsy give them up to save his own life?

Roxy is quick to answer. “He’s never gassed anyone,” she replies, proudly using a term from their friend’s vernacular. “He’d rather undergo the pain of death than betray Kingsman.”

“Oi!” Eggsy shouts over the sounds of a scuffle. “Hey! Hands off the merchandise, arsehole! What the fuck—”

The sickening sound of a bone breaking cuts off Eggsy’s ranting; there is a moment of absolute silence and a feeling of dread in Merlin’s stomach as he thinks the very worst.

Then there’s Eggsy’s shriek of pain.

“Now, pacuk,” Manionak growls, ignoring his prisoner’s whimpering. “Tell me the truth or I break more finger, yes?”

Eggsy fights to string words together when another bone snaps. Eggsy alternates between a string of curses and swallowing down a sob. “Fuck you,” he finally manages and hocks a wad of spit at his captor. “If you don’t like what I’m tellin’ ya, ain’t my problem, bruv.”

“Where is his location?” Merlin demands, turning to Hetman and her team.

A frightened looking tech stutters over his answer. “We are still trying to boost the signal from his glasses.”

“Bloody Christ!” he swears, grabbing the tech’s tablet from his hands. “By a glacial age? There’s a fellow agent being tortured on loudspeaker while you push your fucking buttons!”

Merlin types in a flurry, opening up multiple programs that will allow him access to satellites, Wi-Fi hotspots, private access points, and quite possibly the FSB’s routers. He enters the software for the glasses to boost their signal internal, bouncing it off the closest access point.

Its slow going, as the area Eggsy is being kept in is heavily wooded according to a satellite image that pops up moments later.

“Their location is in dense forestation,” he tells the room. “Aside from the manor, where can I find such a place within driving distance from Brest?” His question is met with silence. Looking up, Merlin finds Hetman and her team staring at him. “Now! Give me some fucking locations!”

The room erupts as each person near a computer or tablet begins to search for possible locations. As they speak, Eggsy is stalling with Manionak and alternately getting his entire hand broken. His cries pierce through the speakers while his captor refuses to hold back.

Merlin sends another set of codes to Eggsy’s glasses, boosting the signal again. “Come on, you lousy piece of shit,” he mutters, watching the bar crawl towards acceptable levels. “Don’t you fucking fail on me.”

“You are stubborn, pacuk,” Manionak laughs. He whispers to another person, who leaves the room judging by the sound of a closing door. “I commend you for your will.”

Eggsy’s groans can be heard. “You’re not welcome,” he rasps. “Wanker.”

The second person comes back, shutting the door behind them. Manionak and another man speak in Belarusian that’s far too low for the glasses to pick up. They laugh and the drug lord’s attention is back to Eggsy.

“I noticed that you never had track mark,” the older man comments. “I asked your Artem; he did not give me answer. Artem was tight-lipped as you say, yes?”

“Where is that bloke?” Eggsy questions, all carefree. “You beatin’ ‘im, too? Whateva he did, I got nothin’ to do with it.”

Manionak chuckles. “Artem is dead,” he answers, laughing harder at Eggsy’s expression, no doubt. “You thought he was here? Niama. We took care of him. He is liar and cheat like you.”

“Oi! Don’t group me in with ‘im!” the lad hisses, jerking around. “Not my fault he was a twat.”

The drug lord says something to the second man, who steps forward to do his bidding.

“Hey,” Eggsy calls, moving around again. “Hey! What the fuck, bruv? Don’t you think I’m tied up enough? Adding a fuckin’ rubber to the mix, you soddin’ perv!”

Roxy is suddenly next to Merlin, looking quite alarmed. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” he replies while attempting to boost the signal enough to a proper location. Merlin silently prays that this will work on the third try and a whoop in victory when the software announces it’s been successful. “Finally, you right bastard!”

He types in a series of commands to confirm the Kingsman’s location, using the wifi off of someone’s phone inside of the building where Eggsy is being held. Leave it to the drug dealers making it easy for Merlin to find them.

Manionak is uncapping something, the pop earning everyone’s attention. “You know what this is, yes?” he asks.

“A needle and syringe?” Eggsy replies sounding unimpressed.

“Almost correct,” the drug lord says, stepping closer.

Eggsy growls. “That’s my fuckin’ arm! What the fuck is it with you lot touchin’ me without permission?” He is trying to jerk away, kicking out his feet while Manionak grabs him. “Hey!”

“This is čysty heroin,” the older man tells him. “The very best from South America. I decided to let you try because you are guest. Even gave you clean needle.”

Merlin freezes, his eyes focusing on the speakers. “Shit,” he curses, hitting the borrowed tablet. “Fuck, come on!”

“I’m good, thanks,” Eggsy says, nerves causing his voice to crack. “I haven’t had my dinner yet. Haven’t you heard you shouldn’t inject heroin on an empty stomach?” He forces out laughter, which quickly dissolves to sheer panic. “No. Get your fuckin’ hands off me!”

Manionak laughs at Eggsy. “Do not worry, pacuk,” he assures. “You will feel liepš in a moment, yes?” He switches to Belarusian as Eggsy tries to keep him at bay.

“Hey! No!” Eggsy yells when the second man grabs him. He fights back as much as he can, given the volume of scuffle being heard over the speakers. “No! Stop! Holy shit…you can put that back down, yeah?”

Hearing his lover go from cocky to terrified is more than Merlin can bear. Blood roars in his ears, pounding and pounding until his head and heart ache. He is powerless to stop this horrible act of torture and unable to see it, allowing his nightmares to run wild.

A flash of watching Harry in the middle of a Kentucky bloodbath enters his mind.

No, Merlin thinks over Eggsy’s desperate pleas for Manionak to leave him alone while the drug lord attempts to convince him not to fret. This is far worse.

“Stop it, you fuckin’ arsehole! No!” Eggsy howls. “No! NO! STOP!” His yelling gives way to hysterics as the needle is plunged into his arm. “I don’t want it! Please don’t do it! Please!”

Manionak must push the syringe for Eggsy begins to scream, the sound ripping through the speakers so loudly that Merlin is convinced they might blow.

His entire body goes ice cold as his lover’s sobs fill the room, so violent and raw that Eggsy struggles to catch his breath. For a terrible second, Merlin thinks that the bastard has deliberately caused Eggsy to overdose until his cries begin to taper off, dazed and euphoric.

“Ah,” Manionak whispers over Eggsy are mumbling. “Not so bad, huh, pacuk? You cry for no reason. Feels good, yes?”

Eggsy smacks his lips together, grunting as he continues to speak so quietly that not even the drug lord can understand him.

“You are much more pryhažej when you’re quiet, pacuk,” the older man coos. “Perhaps I should have taste? Would you like that?”

Bile pushes its way through Merlin’s stomach and burns his throat before he manages it swallow it back down. He already wants to murder this sorry excuse of a man, but if Manionak even touches a hair on Eggsy’s head, he will make him beg for death.

Eggsy continues to ramble to himself, too high to comprehend the drug lord’s threat.

“You want a real man, little pacuk?” Maninoak inquires. “I can give you real man.”

“Brogues.”

The word is slurred but to Merlin’s ears, it’s clear as day. He shudders as the sound of the tablet chirps in his hands, the incessant merry noise a sharp contrast to what is transpiring.

A glance at the screen shows a map of the Białowieża Forest where a house resides at the very edge and hope warms his chest. “I’ve got something!” Merlin announces. He grabs a member of Hetman’s team and shoves the tablet towards him. “Where is this?”

“Uh,” the young man says, studying the location. “That’s about twenty minutes from here. Just outside of Brest.”

Merlin looks to his English colleagues, who immediately spring into action. He follows after them with Hetman on his heels. “Are your agents ready?” he snarls as they rush through the manor house.

“Of course,” she says, trying to keep up. “They are waiting for you in the garages.”

He nods, rage pulsing through every fiber of his being. “Good,” he replies, darkly. “Tell your team we’ll be at Galahad’s location in ten minutes.”

The two-story cottage has seen far quieter days.

Merlin is the first one, kicking the front door open and firing off his TT-30s into the first bloke who comes to check the commotion. He proceeds through the spray of blood and brain matter onto the next one of Manionak’s crew who stands between him and Eggsy.

In retrospect, there are too many Kingsman agents who have descended upon the drug lord’s hideout, but it doesn’t matter.

All he can think about is his lover, who is incapacitated inside the dilapidated structure. Merlin vows to cut Manionak into pieces if he finds him on Eggsy, no longer caring about decorum or giving him over to the authorities.

A brawny man blocks his entry to the back of the house and sends Merlin into the wall with a hard punch to his side. Another hit follows and pain spikes through his ribcage. Growling, he grabs onto the man’s wrist and effortlessly snaps the bone, ignoring how it tents under the skin.

While the man howls in pain, Merlin takes him by the chin and neck and twists until the bones break under his capable hands as Roxy happens to rush by.

She pauses to watch the corpse drop onto the floor and looks at her colleague before collecting herself. “Lamorak and Bors are checking the upstairs,” Roxy tells him as they continue through the first floor. “Percival is in the basement with Kay.”

Merlin nods in acknowledgment. He could speak, but his mouth isn’t working properly. There’s too much emotion rushing through him; the terrible what-ifs, praying for a miracle and seething in rage.

They come to the room Eggsy is being kept as one of Manionak’s men opens the door. Roxy fires a bullet into his skull, leaving a neat circle in the center of his forehead.

Merlin launches himself into the room, shooting his gun over and over into the drug lord’s body. Even as the man falls onto the floor, he continues firing bullet after bullet until there are more holes than facial features.

Peering down at the gore, Merlin nudges Manionak’s corpse with the tip of his Oxford before sending several more shots into his body.

All in all, the infiltration of Manionak’s hiding place takes less than five minutes and no one is left breathing by the time the Kingsman agents are finished.

Eggsy’s groan clears Merlin’s red covered vision, bringing him back to reality. Turning around, he sets the safety and shoves the weapon into his holster. As he ignores the carnage left in his wake, Merlin goes to his lover’s side and surveys the damage.

All it takes is one look at Eggsy to see what a right mess Manionak made of him. Blood, bruises, unevenly dilated pupils with the whites of his eyes so red it looks grotesque; Manionak should thank his lucky stars that Merlin dispatched him quickly. Eggsy’s drenched in sweat, which glistens over his pale skin. Merlin notices Eggsy’s hand has begun its rapid turn into a mass of vibrant swelling. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise Merlin if Eggsy needed surgery.

“Galahad,” Merlin intones, gently cupping his lover’s cheeks once he’s cut the rope from battered wrists. He feels remnants of the young man’s tears under his fingers. “Eggsy.”

His lover continues to mumble drug-fueled, nonsensical sentences. His jaw moves at half-speed against the older man’s palms while heavily-lidded eyes fight to remain open.

“Eggsy,” Merlin repeats, giving him a gentle shake to get his attention. He whispers into the lad’s ear, “Look at me, love.”

His request is met by a hazy pair of green irises. “Merlin?” Eggsy questions, his tongue fumbling with his words. 

He watches as Eggsy tries and fails to focus on him and the sight of it pains Merlin beyond words. “Aye, it’s me,” he says, bringing his face closer.

Eggsy’s vacant stare clears for a moment. “You came for me,” he replies in awe, body shivering as the young man glances around the room.

“Did you think I would let you have all the fun?” Merlin teases as he removes his coat and drapes it over his lover’s shoulders. “Besides, we have a date to go on. Couldn’t allow us to miss it, right?”

It’s massive on Eggsy, who's four centimeters shorter than his one hundred eighty-seven, and nearly swallows his body under the dense black fabric. With trembling fingers, he clutches the lapel in a tight fist. “‘M tired,” Eggsy whispers. “Can we go home?”

“Of course,” Merlin assures, helping Eggsy out of the chair and keeping him steady as he sways on bare feet. Merlin looks to Roxy and motions towards the door. “Initiate clean up and have Percival ready with the car, then contact Hetman to have the medical staff on standby.”

She nods, leaving immediately with glistening eyes and a gloved hand to her mouth. It’s just them with two corpses to keep them company. Merlin scoops Eggsy into a fireman’s carry, feeling the weight of the lad’s sweaty forehead dropping into the curve of his neck. His breath comes in fast puffs against Merlin’s skin when he isn’t whimpering.

Merlin speaks to him the entire way back to the car, all of it sweet nothings and assurances that Eggsy is finally safe. He catches a glimpse of Percival’s momentary expression of shock they bundle themselves in the car. “Did you get Hetman on the line?” Merlin inquires as Roxy and the others situate themselves. He shifts Eggsy’s body on his lap, holding him close.

“She has notified Arthur of the extraction’s success,” Roxy tells him, casting a worried look at Eggsy, “and said that the medical team will meet us ‘round back. Lamorak, Kay, and Bors are staying behind to assist with cleanup.”

Eggsy’s cry of pain halts all conversation as they drive off down the dirt road. Merlin rests his cheek against Eggsy’s head, rocking them back and forth. “You’re alright, love,” he whispers as Percival puts distance between themselves and the cottage. “Everything’s alright.”

As promised, Hetman and the medical team are waiting for them at the back entrance.

It’s impossibly dark now with only the lights from within the manor house providing any sort of illumination. There is no light pollution from Brest, nor any moon or stars in the sky. Merlin finds it quite sinister, though he feels that his opinion may be a bit biased at the current time.

The two doctors and three nurses spring to action the moment the car’s back door opens, lifting a delirious Eggsy from Merlin’s arms to the waiting gurney. His coat is tossed aside, replaced by a thermal blanket activated as soon as it touches Eggsy’s injured body.

Orders are barked in Belarusian, too fast for Merlin to understand, and he’s left standing in the driveway as Eggsy is whisked away.

Instinctively he starts to go after him when a doctor steps in his way and shakes her head. “What do you think you’re doing?” Merlin snarls.

“You are bleeding, sir,” she tells him, gesturing to his person.

Merlin finds that the doctor is correct when he notices a pair of blood stains on his shirt, one on his upper arm and the other on his side. “Oh,” he says, dumbfounded as he examines the injuries. “So I am.”

The doctor makes an impatient sound before grabbing him by the elbow of his uninjured arm and frog-marching him into the manor. She is muttering to herself in Belarusian—undoubtedly cursing this crazy Scottish agent—and deposits him on a bed in the hospital wing. “Stay here,” she orders firmly. “And remove everything from the waist up.”

He does as she asks, though it pains him to slip his injured arm through the sleeve of his shirt. On closer inspection, Merlin finds that his shoulder has been grazed by a bullet while the skin just above the waist of his trousers sports a knife wound. The grey material of his remaining clothing is soaked crimson, though it seems that the bleeding is beginning to slow.

How Merlin never realized that he was wounded is beyond him.

“There you are!” Roxy exclaims from the doorway. She enters without permission, frowning at her superior’s current state. “That doctor shuttled you off so quickly that I thought Percival and I were going to need bloodhounds!”

He chuckles. “I certainly have lost plenty of it,” Merlin jokes, wincing as his side throbs. “Bugger! Do you know where they’ve taken Eggs-Galahad?”

Roxy gives him a knowing smirk. “Percival is asking around,” she replies, taking a seat by the bed.

The doctor comes back with a tray with suturing instruments in their packaging. Once they have been laid out by her gloved hands, she goes about injecting Merlin with the proper dose of lidocaine before beginning to clean his wounds. The doctor is efficient and does not bother with idle chit-chat as she begins to stitch his skin back together.

Percival appears just as she finishes with his shoulder. “Lamorak, Kay, and Bors are on their way back with the rest of the team,” he says, watching as the doctor covers Merlin’s shoulder with gauze and tape. “I reckon it’s been a while since you’ve seen action.”

“Aye,” Merlin replies over the doctor ordering him to lie down. He does with a poorly concealed wince; his ribs are going to be sporting bruises come morning. “I remember why I stay indoors; much safer.”

His longtime friend smirks at him. “Very true.”

“Did you find out where they took Galahad?” Roxy inquires.

“I spoke with Hetman; he’s been stabilized. Once his broken bones are reset and put into a cast, Galahad will be quarantined for a twelve hour period,” Percival answers, narrowing his eyes into a frown. “For detoxing.”

Merlin’s chest constricts. “Quarantine?” he croaks, his eyes focused on the top of the doctor’s head. “Is that necessary?”

“Our medical team will need to closely monitor Galahad’s vitals during his detox and it would be best if he is left undisturbed,” the doctor explains as she threads his side. “He will be sedated during the process; it’s better this way.”

He swallows, turning his face to her. “He shouldn’t be left alone,” he counters, trying to remain calm. The very thought of Eggsy being left on his own after what he’s been through…it makes Merlin ill. “He needs someone to be there when he wakes up.”

“Our team will be there the entire time,” she assures with a gentle smile. “I can request that you be notified when Galahad is moved to a private room…once you have rested yourselves.”

The doctor’s tone is stern at the last bit and Merlin knows that it’s useless to argue with her. All of the agents involved with the extraction are sleep-deprived and having those closest to Eggsy wouldn’t do him any good if they’re dead on their feet.

“Who would we speak to about guest quarters?” Percival inquires.

The head of house is paged to the room, where he and Percival converse about sleeping arrangements while the doctor finishes up with Merlin. It seems that this has already been taken care of and their bags have been transferred from the jet to their assigned rooms.

“When you are finished, I will have one of the staff come to fetch you,” the gentleman tells Merlin as he leads Percival and Roxy out.

Merlin waves a careless hand. His ribs twinge in protest and a curse drops from his lips. Bringing a hand to rub his temples, he feels the tackiness of dried blood on his skin. It’s not his, thankfully, but leaves him feeling disgusting all the same. “How terribly cross would you be if I showered before bed?” he asks the doctor.

“Given the circumstances,” she begins to say, “not terribly. Take care in not soaking your stitches.”

Once she is finished and has fitted Merlin with a sling, an attendant is summoned to take him to his room. It’s located on the second floor in the east wing, facing an avenue of trees according to Merlin’s escort. The guest quarters are well appointed and with a tired nod, he sends the attendant on their merry way.

He gets a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror, all bloodstained and pale. His dress shirt is beyond ruin and will need to be discarded while his trousers have a future date with the Kingsman laundress.

None of it compares to how he feels without Eggsy by his side. He’s missing a part of himself, a part he nearly lost to circumstances beyond his control. Merlin knows the nature of their job has its risks, but hearing his lover’s anguish while being tortured…

It’s a bit much.

Merlin goes about his nightly routine, albeit slowly, and lingers under the hot spray of the shower until his skin is pink and no longer blemished by another’s blood. After drawing on a pair of pajama bottoms, he stumbles into an unfamiliar bed and falls asleep thinking of Eggsy.

Chapter Text

He spends the night alternating between restless dreams and periods of unrestful sleep.

Sometimes it’s Harry who haunts him; he watches Merlin as he dispatches Manionak and claps when the man’s corpse hits the floor. When he turns to face his friend, he finds that Harry has disappeared and it’s just him in a dingy room.

Other times Eggsy is there, lying in bed with him as if they were in Merlin’s flat. They are cocooned under the comforter; a tangle of limbs pressed close together while rain falls outside. Eggsy’s knee is shoved between his thighs as if he’s attempting to melt them into a single entity. When he goes to tilt Eggsy’s chin to kiss him, Merlin watches him vanish before his very eyes.

It’s what wakes him in the morning, sending Merlin upright and pulling at the stitches in his body. Merlin curses at the sudden spike of pain as his eyes adjust to the unfamiliar guest room. A quick glance at the digital clock in the room tells him that he’s been asleep for nearly ten hours.

Bone weary, Merlin forces himself out of bed, moving gingerly as he rummages through his bag for clean clothes and goes to the bathroom for another shower. He also means to seek the bottle of pain medication that was given to him.

Once he finds it resting on the sink, having forgotten that he placed it there the night before, Merlin swallows two pills dry and goes about brushing his teeth. The vibrant bruises catch his attention in the mirror, a mess of deep blues, purples, and reds creeping up his shoulder and down his torso.

All Kingsman agents go through this on a near-daily basis. He has no right to complain as he’s usually tucked away in his lair, protected by computers and solid concrete. Spitting the foam out of his mouth, Merlin’s thoughts turn to Eggsy.

His lover who is somewhere in this manor house and no doubt covered in bruises of his own. Twelve hours is how long Eggsy would be in quarantine; just over two more hours before Merlin can see him again. He uses the time to shower and dress, which makes him feel a bit more human.

As he’s slipping the sling over his head, an attendant comes into the room carrying a tray of tea and scones. Roxy is following behind them, looking fresh as a daisy because she’s young and can bounce back far quicker than he. “Morning,” she greets, taking a seat on the settee. Roxy tilts her head, studying him as he ambles over with his loafers in hand. “Did you get any rest?”

Merlin slumps into the sofa across from her with a grateful sigh. “Not as much as I would like,” he admits. “Sleep was a bit evasive for me.”

“Ah,” Roxy says knowingly. She goes to pour them each a cup of tea, adding some milk and sugar to her own before reaching for a scone. “I understand.” She doesn’t say anything else as they eat and drink in silence.

A knock comes when Merlin and Roxy are getting the former’s loafers on his feet. It is Hetman with her ever-present tablet.

“Galahad has been moved to a private room,” she states when the two British agents turn to her. “We can go when you are ready.”

It seems that they are the only members of their division who are awake; Percival evidently debriefed Arthur on Eggsy’s retrieval during the early hours of the morning before going to rest, while Lamorak, Kay, and Bors are all having a lie-in in their respective rooms.

The walk down to the medical wing is filled with a tense silence and fear of what to expect. Hetman doesn’t seem to be privy to Eggsy’s medical treatment and if she is, she has decided to leave it to the doctors assigned to Eggsy’s case to discuss it.

She escorts them to a quiet corridor of the wing where a doctor stands outside of a closed door. He seems to be expecting them and perks up upon Hetman’s approach. “Dobraj ranicy,” he says with a bob of his head.

“These are agents Merlin and Lancelot of the UK division,” Hetman tells him.

The doctor offers them a friendly grin. “Yes, welcome to Belarus,” he adds. “I hope you have rested well.”

“We have,” Roxy says, ever the polite one. She speaks for the both of them as Merlin is no mindset to make small talk. “Thank you for your hospitality. It is much appreciated.”

Hetman and the doctor nod at her. “They wanted an update on Galahad,” the former states. “And perhaps the ability to visit him.”

“Prava,” the doctor agrees. “He is progressing as expected; the detoxing was successful. His broken fingers and wrist were reset without any complications. I do not foresee the need for surgery; perhaps a bit of physical therapy if necessary. I will allow your doctors to assess this once Galahad is back home. Bruised orbital socket, some ribs, and a concussion. I’d estimate him being out of commission for two, maybe three months.”

He doesn’t care about the details, Merlin just wants to know one thing. “Can I-we see him?” Merlin inquires, trying to ignore the way that the words press at his throat.

He’s so fucked over the lad, something Merlin’s known for quite some time, but having almost lost him…

It doesn’t matter; Eggsy is alive and he will continue being as such if Merlin has any say.

“I’m afraid that Galahad is still unconscious,” the doctor replies.

Merlin realizes that he could pull rank when Hetman clears her throat, leaning in to whisper something into the doctor’s ear. His eyebrows raise underneath his combed over fringe.

“Vieĺmi dobra,” he says before addressing Merlin and Roxy. “Only one of you can stay with Galahad until he regains consciousness. After that, he may have more visitors.”

Roxy is quicker to reply. “You go,” she says to Merlin, nudging him forward. With a reassuring smile, Roxy quietly adds, “I have a feeling that he’d be more excited to see you over anyone else.”

“Are you certain?” Merlin asks.

With a shooing gesture, she nods. “Go on,” Roxy tells him. “Besides, I’d quite like to see the rest of the estate and I doubt I’ll be able to once Galahad is up and about.”

Merlin chuckles, knowing from previous experience how poorly Eggsy handles boredom. “Very well,” he says. “I’ll let you know as soon as he’s awake.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, sir,” Roxy replies as Hetman goes to her side to play escort.

He and the doctor do not wait for their departure, disappearing through the door they’ve been crowded around. It gives way to a private room similar to the ones at the UK headquarters, save for the lack of rocks in the walls.

The room is very much a medical one, decorated with soothing creams, greys, and Turkish blue. It has the usual furnishings one would expect: hospital equipment, a flat screen television mounted over a three-drawer dresser, a private bathroom, and a slightly elevated bed.

Fuck, the bed…

It takes every iota in Merlin’s body to keep him breathing from the moment his eyes find Eggsy.

There he is lying in front of him, tucked into impersonal hospital sheets and blankets. Even with the bruising on Eggsy’s face, his lover appears unusually pale. The tint of his lips and whatever skin is left unblemished gives Eggsy a sickly cast, made worse by the stillness of him and his body being attached to medical equipment. 

The staff has cleaned Eggsy up. Gone is the soiled clothing replaced with a pair of Kingsman issued pajamas. His hair is mussed similarly to when he spent the night with Merlin and as he was when, here he is all sleep-soft and lovely, even if Eggsy’s spent the last twelve hours in detox. Merlin rushes to him and hesitates momentarily before taking the lad’s hand in his own. 

Minding the IV tubes, he lifts it from the bed, holding it carefully for inspection. He notices the cracked and bruised knuckles from fighting back before his capture, which is superficial compared to the injury to Eggsy’s other hand resting upon his stomach, all wrapped in fiberglass and black gauze, holding broken bones in place. A weaker man would faint at the sight, but for Merlin, it’s a test of wills. He collapses into the armchair next to Eggsy’s bed, still clasping his lover like a lifeline while processing the nasal cannula, stitches, and dark hollows under Eggsy’s closed eyes.

God, I missed you, Merlin thinks. I would have burnt this country to the ground just to find you. Then he remembers Manionak’s abhorrent threats. “Was there any mention of a sexual assault in his intake?” Merlin inquires, the words like ashes on his tongue. So foul, they are, and he feels sick having even uttered them.

“Let me see,” the doctor says, looking through the information on his tablet with furrowed brows. A few terrible moments pass until his features relax. “No, there was not.”

Relief sends a ripple of emotions through his body as he grips Eggsy’s hand a bit harder. Merlin breathes, seemingly for the first time in hours. “Good,” he states.

“His vitals are excellent,” the doctor declares, continuing on from his notes. He seems to be updating them on the tablet as he stands at the foot of the hospital bed. “I wouldn’t expect much out of him for the next forty-eight hours; the sedatives used during detox are strong enough to knock out a harnizon.”

Merlin nods, feeling slightly deflated that he won’t be hearing Eggsy’s voice or seeing him turn his head to look at the older man with a tired grin anytime soon.

It’s no bother, he reckons. Merlin would wait an entire lifetime just for him.

Eggsy wakes thirty-six hours after extraction.

He’s a bit of an overachiever like that and Merlin cannot bring himself to complain.

It’s nearly half after one in the morning and the hospital room is dark, save for the light coming from the bathroom. The brush of fingers against his palm pushes Merlin to the surface of conscious, but the sound of Eggsy’s grunt causes his eyes to fly open and kick off the blanket draped over his lower half.

He palms his face with his free hand and reaches for his discarded glasses on a standing hospital tray. In the poorly lit room Eggsy blinks, revealing gazed over, unfocused eyes. His nose wiggles against the pull of the nasal cannula, followed by a grimace of having a piece of translucent plastic shoved up his nostrils.

“Welcome back,” Merlin intones, leaning closer. Using his free hand, he runs his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, soothing whatever cowlicks he comes across. “Looking good, Eggsy.”

Predictably a tired smile appears, tugging the corners of Eggsy’s mouth upward as his eyes close momentarily. “Feelin’ like shit, Merlin.”

He chuckles; he can’t help it. It bubbles up his throat, releasing the last bit of tension in Merlin’s body as he brings himself close enough to press a kiss to Eggsy’s warm forehead. He breathes his lover in like a sigh. “My poor love,” Merlin whispers. “The dangers of ridding the world of its foes.”

“Ought to get a pay raise,” he grouses as he leans into Merlin, sighing contently. “You think Arthur would be willin’?”

“Perhaps,” he replies. After all, Eggsy’s track record while highly unorthodox does yield results and is quite impressive for someone who has only been an agent for six or so months. “I’ll be sure to make note of it in your file.”

Eggsy hums in appreciation, nuzzling his cheek against Merlin. “Thanks,” he says. “You’re a mate, you are. Got anythin’ to drink? My throat feels like sandpaper.”

There’s a shuffle while Merlin searches for cups, followed by a quick trip to the bathroom. The water is a bit on the warm side and he realizes that he could page one of the nurses to bring them a fresh jug, but it would mean that the doctor will come soon after.

And judging by the way Eggsy’s stare follows him, Merlin reasons Eggsy isn’t ready for more company.

“It’s not Pellegrino,” he apologizes while tilting the paper cup against Eggsy’s lips and watches him take a few tentative sips.

“Doesn’t need to be,” Eggsy mumbles. He rests his hand on Merlin’s wrist, a silent indication that he’s finished and slumps against the pillows. Blinking, Eggsy tilts his head in an appraisal of Merlin’s appearance. “You look like you’ve gone several rounds as a punchin’ bag, bruv.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You should see the other bloke. What’s left of him, anyhow.”

“Were you…” Eggsy’s voice tapers off as a vague recollection washes over his features. “Bloody hell! You went in the field!”

He scoffs in mock offense. “You sound so shocked,” Merlin teases, rubbing his thumb over one unblemished strip of Eggsy’s jaw. Stubble prickles his skin; it’s been a while since his lover has shaved. “I told you; we still have a date to go on.”

“Some date that’s turnin’ out to be,” Eggsy grumbles with a careless gesture to his maimed body. “Gonna be on bed rest until my hair’s grey. What am I lookin’ at anyways?”

Merlin thumbs his pert nose. “Out of the field for two or three months according to the doctor here,” he responds, eyes glancing down at the rest of Eggsy’s form. “Some physio, most likely. You got lucky.”

“In part to you, no doubt. What ‘bout you?”

“A bullet graze, stab wound, and some bruises,” Merlin tells him, shrugging. “Nothin’ that a weekend in bed wouldn’t fix.”

Eggsy smiles. “There’s a bed right here, guv,” he offers, patting his hand on the mattress. “With a willin’ young thing in it to boot.”

“Tempting,” he says, considering. More than anything at that present moment does he want to crawl into the full bed with Eggsy, to fall asleep with him in his arms, and to wake up with him still there. “But I have a feeling that the medical staff is less forgiving than our own. We already had to pull strings to have them allow someone to stay with you.”

His smile falls into a firm line of understanding. “Loads of arse kissin’, yeah?”

“Something like that, love.” Merlin untangles himself from Eggsy to scoot the armchair closer to the bed, even if his body protests at the heavy lifting. Once he’s settled back on the cushions with the blanket draped over him, Merlin reaches for Eggsy’s hand. “You’ve got me right here and when you’re released, you can stay in my flat unless if you’d feel more comfortable at home.”

Eggsy waves the suggestion away. “And miss you playin’ nurse? Are you jokin’?” he quips, squeezing Merlin’s fingers. “Could JB come? My mum and sister are goin’ to see the grandparents the day after next…”

He hasn’t had a dog in his flat in ages, not since his own passed away. “Is he housebroken?”

“Is he housebroken, he asks, like I’d let my dog piss on everythin’!” Eggsy gripes, scowling. “Of course! He also knows how to use the wee pads my mom has ‘round the house.”

Merlin holds up a hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he concedes. “JB can come.”

“He sleeps on the bed.”

For fuck’s sake.

Eggsy is kept in the medical wing as long as necessary, which turns out to be another day and a half.

The other agent will fly back to England several hours before he and Merlin as the doctors have arranged for Eggsy to travel via air ambulance.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Eggsy snaps, tired of having to stay in bed and under the watchful eye of the Belarusian medical staff. Like everyone else, he wants to go home. “An air ambulance? Like a fuckin’ cripple or summat?”

The doctor, bless his soul, doesn’t break his composure and only says, “It’s standard procedure.”

Which it’s not and Merlin would know by being with Kingsman for as long enough as he has but Eggsy is not one to take it easy. He’s practically crawling up the walls of the private hospital room, only momentarily distracted by visitors before he starts bitching again.

“They’re only being cautious,” Roxy gently reminds him.

“Cautious my arse,” he snarls, crossing both arms over his chest and slumping down against the pillows. “It’s embarrassin’! Can’t even fly with my mates.”

Merlin and Roxy exchange a knowing glance as a mutual thought passes between them. Eggsy fails to realize that he’s still hooked up to an assortment of monitors and IV lines, having only recently woken up from being seriously injured while on assignment. He won’t go into the part where Eggsy was kidnapped, tortured, and then injected with heroin; it will only lead to an argument.

Roxy cottoned to the fact that her colleagues are a thing, knows how to soften the blow. “Just think,” she says, patting Eggsy’s less injured hand. “You’ll get your boyfriend all to yourself on the way home.” Her poker face remains as both her friend and Merlin turn a hectic shade of pink, stammering an explanation. “I know for a fact that you two have been fucking for ages. How do you both even work for a spy organization? Honestly!”

Once the moment has passed and Eggsy is dozing, Merlin pulls Roxy out of earshot. “Could you do me a favor?” he inquires. He nods in the direction of his slumbering lover, smiling fondly at the sight of Eggsy wearing one of Merlin’s cardigans. The sleeves are rolled up to just below Eggsy’s elbows, being too long for him otherwise. “He’s going to be staying with me while he recovers.”

“You want me to pop over to his mum’s to get some of his things and JB?” Roxy says, finishing his thought. She peers over at her friend and grins. “Of course.” After a long study, she nudges Merlin with her elbow. “Never thought you’d want a dog in your flat.”

He scoffs. “I’ll have you know that my Haggis was with me for a number of years before he passed away,” Merlin tells her, remembering his sweet, docile Scottish deerhound he had chosen during his candidacy with Kingsman.

“You? With a dog?” Roxy exclaims, shocked. “I would have thought you wouldn’t have time for one!”

Merlin takes out his phone, unlocking it to show her a picture of a large black dog chewing on a rawhide in a very big plaid bed. His floppy ears are in disarray, per usual, and without a care in the world. “Haggis came to work with me,” he explains, swiping through a number of photographs. “Even had his own badge.”

He comes upon one that shows Haggis with a Cairn terrier, both of them looking quite content as they sunbathed on Harry’s patio. Mr. Pickle is dwarfed by the Deerhound’s body while he lies on the larger animal’s stomach.

Merlin recalls coming across this scene years ago and chuckling at the dogs before snapping the picture with his camera. Haggis was nearly nine years old, which was ancient for his breed, and would pass away several months later while Mr. Pickle would hang around for another two years.

Harry had been there when Merlin brought Haggis to the veterinary clinic to be put down, staying with his friend while they said their goodbyes and the dog went peacefully in his arms. He would return the favor when Mr. Pickle passed on, sharing tears over a pint.

“Who’s this little one?” Roxy inquires. “Quite the dignified fellow, isn’t he?”

He clears his throat. “Mr. Pickle,” he answers. “Harry’s dog. He used to boss Haggis around, even when they were puppies.”

“Ah, I can see an air of importance,” she teases.

Merlin chuckles. “He did have a Napoleon Complex, but never tell anyone I said that,” he stage-whispers, to which Roxy giggles until Eggsy grumbles in his sleep. They look over at him as he moves his head from one side to the other, where a spiderweb of bruising is worse. It’s faded some, though not enough for Merlin’s benefit. The colors are less spectacular and the edges are beginning to turn green, which is a sign of healing but it will never be enough until Eggsy is just as he left.

Healthy and whole.

“He’s going to make a full recovery,” Roxy assures, placing a hand on his shoulder, “and live another day of driving us all mad.”

Several hours later, he finds himself seated in an air ambulance with Eggsy nestled into his side as they share a flannel blanket. Hiding under it to keep the jet’s chill at bay, they lapse into a companionable silence that lasts the duration of the flight back to England.

The medical staff leaves them be, only coming to check on Eggsy’s vitals midway through. Eggsy nods off while Merlin is closely on his heels, arm encircling his lover’s upper body as he watches clouds drifting over the jet’s wings.

It’s a quiet flight and uneventful landing once they’ve reached English soil. He and Eggsy are free to leave as soon as they disembark the jet, to which both men are forever grateful, and head back to Merlin’s flat in a Kingsman cab.

Once they are on the other side of Merlin’s front door, he pulls Eggsy into a fierce hug, while still minding his injuries, and holds him close as they just be. He half expects a smart-arse quip or a pinch on his bum, but his lover does no such thing except for sinking into his embrace.

He curls his fingers into his lover’s hair, scratching his scalp as Merlin breathes a sigh. Eggsy is warm and alive and pressed into him with his arms wrapped around his waist, banishing all worries.

The grandfather clock chimes from the living room as his lover rests his forehead against the hollow of his neck, returning Merlin’s sigh with one of his own. “God, I missed you,” Eggsy whispers, unknowingly echoing Merlin’s earlier thoughts. He pulls back to gaze at the older man, eyes glistening from exhaustion and emotion alike.

“The feeling is mutual,” Merlin assures with a gentle smile before pressing a kiss to his lover’s brow. The sensation of Eggsy’s body sagging does not go unnoticed; he’s had a rough go for the last couple of days and being in a hospital bed has not been restful for either of them. “Let’s get you bathed and put to bed, shall we?”

The bath is quick, simple affair to which Merlin uses the time to send Roxy a text, letting her know that they are back in his flat and to come by at her leisure. By the time Eggsy is dressed in a pair of Merlin’s pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, his energy is flagging though he tries to fight it. “‘M not tired,” he insists despite drooping eyelids and a yawn. Smacking his lips together, he blinks deliberately at Merlin. “Honest.”

Merlin suppresses a chuckle. “Right,” he says, turning on the telly in his bedroom after shucking his loafers onto the floor. He snorts when Eggsy’s head drops onto his shoulder. “Not tired, you say, hm?”

“Sod off,” Eggsy snaps, his voice muffled by Merlin’s own body. He’s asleep no less than five minutes later, snoring softly as the television program quietly plays on in the background.

He watches Eggsy; each flutter of his eyelashes, twitch of his lips, and breath he takes. Merlin reckons that not many have seen Eggsy in a state of vulnerability and complete ease. It’s a gift, he decides. Something he never he expected when he first met the lad or fucked him in the jet.

His mobile chimes with a message from Roxy telling Merlin that she’s arrived downstairs. Untangling himself from Eggsy isn’t difficult, for he’s sleeping like the dead, and soon he is buzzing her into the building. Merlin waits in the frame of his front door, listening for the jingle of JB’s leash.

Soon a tiny, wrinkled fawn and black head appears from around the corner, tilting comically wide brown eyes at him before Merlin hears Roxy say, “What did you find, JB?” He disappears, save for his corkscrew tail that wags excitedly like helicopter rotors. She appears seconds later with JB trotting by her side and a duffel bag over her shoulder and a cloth bag clutched in her other hand. “Is your daddy here?” Roxy asks. “Is that why you’re smiling?”

JB makes an aborted barking sound in response.

“It seems you found the place,” Merlin calls. As they come closer, he squats down and extends a hand for the pug to sniff. The dog goes ahead, his curious nature Merlin remembers from JB being only a teacup sized puppy and Eggsy was a candidate for Lancelot taking over as he approaches with his nose wiggling.

Roxy laughs. “You remember Merlin, don’t you?” she inquires, watching as JB sniffs his fingers before brushing up against him to be petted.

“He’s still quite friendly,” he marvels as he scratches the pug behind his ears. Merlin stands, motioning for the duffel bag which he takes before they enter the flat. He notices how JB is looking around for his master having sensed Eggsy’s essence. The dog seems very calm about it, unlike Mr. Pickle, whose barking could probably shatter glass.

Roxy unhooks his leash and hands it over to Merlin. “He’s a good dog,” she says, grinning down at the pug.

“Let me show him to Eggsy,” Merlin tells her. He motions for JB to follow which the dog does, toes clicking on the hardwood floors. “Now, you have to be gentle with him,” he warns, nudging the bedroom door open. “No roughhousing.”

Eggsy is still asleep; his body in a graceless sprawl on the mattress and his head turned towards the window. JB’s ears perk up as he goes to the bed and waits to be lifted onto it.

Merlin picks him up and gently places him at Eggsy’s feet, watching as the pug clambers over blankets and limbs until he makes himself at home in the crook of his master’s arm. “Will you keep an eye on our boy for me?” he inquires, stroking the dog’s haunches.

JB’s reply is to nudge his head under Eggsy’s chin and close his eyes for a well-deserved nap.

Roxy leaves his flat after they’ve chatted over tea and some scones she brought over.

As it turns out, she figured him and Eggsy together when she caught the latter dragging the former into an empty conference room several weeks before. Merlin blushes in embarrassment once he’s done choking on his tea. He remembers the incident well; more so the way Eggsy’s body folded under his own thanks to years as a gymnast.

“The two of you hide it well enough,” Roxy assures with a gentle smile as she picks apart her scone. “And he’s certainly mad over you. You realize that, don’t you?”

She gets a shrewd look about her, possibly the kind Roxy gives to informants or marks while on a mission. The kind of expression that makes you want to tell her the truth only so she won’t shoot you in the kneecaps.

“I do,” Merlin says. “And I’m quite mad over him, as well.”

Roxy tilts her head, eyes searching the older man’s face until her gaze softens unexpectedly. Whatever she was looking for, she has found it.

He is aware of her close friendship with Eggsy—saving the world together tends to cement relationships, after all—and realizes that Roxy is looking out for Eggsy. For all his brash exuberance, Eggsy still needs protecting, someone to keep his heart safe when he’s too busy jumping head first.

“Well then, I should let you get back to tending to him,” Roxy tells him, reaching for her discarded coat and purse. She puts herself back together while Merlin begins to clean up after them. “If you need anything, just call.”

She leaves and the flat becomes quiet once more. Merlin busies himself with making Eggsy a cup of tea and unpacking some of JB’s things; water and food dish, a plastic bin of dry food, cans of wet food, toys, wee pads, and plastic bags to be used on his walks. Merlin chuckles at how Eggsy dotes upon the pug, a tiny little thing he mistook for an English bulldog. He takes a rope toy into the bedroom along with a cranberry scone and tea for his human guest.

He finds Eggsy still sleeping with his body curled around JB, who doesn’t even bother to move. Merlin decides that instead of trying to feed his lover, he might as well join him for a lie-in.

As he’s crawling across the mattress to lie next to his lover, Eggsy stirs. “Wassit?” he mumbles, blinking as his eyes adjust to the daylight outside.

“Just me; go back to sleep,” Merlin whispers, running his thumb over Eggsy’s cheekbone. He grins when Eggsy moves to rest his head against his shoulder. “Was coming in to nap with you two.”

JB’s head pops up, surprising Eggsy. “When did you get here?” his lover coos, scratching the pug’s head with a sleepy smile. “Have you been good for daddy’s chap?”

“Came right in here and hasn’t left,” Merlin assures, kissing Eggsy’s forehead.

“You don’t mind him on the bed, do you?” Eggsy asks as he nuzzles the older man’s neck with his nose.

Merlin chuckles softly. “He’s fine.” His eyes drift shut to the sound of his lover’s breathing and JB’s snores, slowly guiding him to sleep when he realizes he’s forgotten something. “Ought to tell you something important before we’re both too far gone,” Merlin whispers.

“What’s that?” Eggsy asks with a yawn.

“I’m terribly in love with you,” he admits into his lover’s hair.

Merlin doesn’t have to wait long for a reply, for comes seconds later. “That’s a good, innit, because I’m terribly in love with you, too,” Eggsy tells him, snuggling into Merlin just a bit more. “Leave it to us to do everythin’ backward; sex, love, relationship.”

He snorts at them both. “It’ll keep us on our toes, don’t you agree?”

“No doubt,” Eggsy agrees. “Sorry ‘bout our date. Ruined everythin’, didn’t I?”

Merlin shakes his head, fingers stroking Eggsy’s scalp. “The good thing about dates is that we can always reschedule if something comes up,” he assures, guiding his lover’s head to his shoulder. “Besides, I can phone in some delivery and we’ll watch a movie in here.”

“Dinner and a movie?” Eggsy questions, amused. “Leave it to you to come up with a classic date for us.”

“Hmm, yes,” Merlin says, closing his eyes as exhaustion finds him. “Those are the most romantic.”