Author: Regency

Title: Five Years Ago & Now

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin/Harry Hart, implied Michelle Unwin/Dean Baker

Contains: implied one night stands, implied mpreg, omegaverse, canon domestic violence, canon-typical violence, minor character death, marking/biting

Summary: AU. Five years ago, strangers Harry and Eggsy spent a passionate night together before life pulled them in separate directions. Today, they meet again.

Author's Notes: I'm reading Big Little Lies and I read this bit and thought of an A/B/O au fic where Eggsy ends up pregnant by Harry after a one night stand:

It's not very hard for an older man with a black AmEx and a chiseled chin to make a tipsy nineteen-year-old swoon. Bit of eye contact. Sing softly. Hold a tune. There you go. Done deal.

I sort of wrote this on the fly in a whatsapp group chat so be gentle, I know the pov is wonky as all get out but other than that, it should be mostly all right. (Those tenses, yo. This is why I usually write in past tense.)

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015). They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.

Five years after he bedded a man from nowhere, who disappeared to the same, Eggsy calls in his favor and gets a nasty shock. Shit, fuck, is that the bastard that sprogged me up and ran? Must be. Eggsy'd know him dead and sleeping.

They met during a local op when Harry was feeling restless. Eggsy was gorgeous and shimmered like a water sprite on the dance floor of the club Harry was staking out. Harry was instantly consumed by the sight of him while Eggsy was just consumed.

Eggsy has always liked his men older and Harry was what they'd call 'well preserved' and gorgeous and he was mad for Eggsy.

If Harry hadn't gotten called away for a mission the next morning he might have stuck around to get the boy's name and number, but duty called. He thought of him frequently and often wished he hadn't taken his glasses off that night so he might have at least a picture of him to go on in finding him again.

Nevertheless, when he sees Eggsy that day at Holborn Police Station, he recognizes him at once. First by his scent, which is a little different than he remembers yet still familiar, and then by his appearance. Eggsy was whippet thin the night they met, but he's a touch softer now in a way Harry can't comprehend.

Eggsy experiences two emotions: The first is panic, because shit shit shit nothing good happens to omegas who get knocked up by rich pricks with lawyers and this rich prick just bailed Eggsy out of jail. He initially refuses Harry's offer of a ride because he wants to get home to his lil tadpole of a babe, but he's scared he'll lead Harry straight to her so he demurs and goes along. The second emotion he experiences is intrigue. The man from nowhere came back. He wants to know why.

Harry can't possibly know about Belle. Nobody but his mom does and that's 'cause she's the one passing her off as her own. Eggsy'd been stupid hiccupping and half-sick when he came to his ma on her way back from work and told her the news. She'd been stunned and then sympathetic, scared for him and the life he'd already decided to bring into this shitty world. Dean wouldn't take kindly to another mouth to feed that wasn't bound to him, he'd have hurt Eggsy if he could; a child would be too easy a target. So Michelle and Eggsy drew on a lifetime of Eastenders and getting by and they came up with a plan.

Michelle pretended to be pregnant using a weekly dose of hormones from a dealer Eggsy knows and Dean was none the wiser, leaving him safe from whatever Dean might have planned for his unbonded omega stepson and Michelle all around safe from Dean for a few months while she was supposedly pregnant. Since he was never all that interested in fatherhood save the fucking that caused it, their plan worked. Never mind that Belle Baker has grown up curly-haired and tall for her age; she's a Baker on paper and that makes her safe enough.

Things get off to a bad start after Harry and Eggsy arrive at the Black Prince. Eggsy keeps waiting for Harry to bring up the night they spent together and Harry has too many things going on to even consider mentioning it first, so neither of them says anything about it. It's the elephant in the room, seated right at the table with them, and having a pints of its own.

Harry is left feeling bereft when he starts to pick up intrusive notes in Eggsy's scent. Eggsy is fecund, ripe for mating, only there's a particular tenor to his scent not typically found in unbonded omegas. It's a scent associated with having borne children, a deep-seated mixture of Eggsy's natural fragrance entwined with that of another. Harry inwardly despairs. Eggsy may not be formally bonded to an alpha but it's obvious he's taken. Harry's missed his chance.

And, yes all right, perhaps Harry is harder on Eggsy for his past mistakes as result, because any alpha worth his salt would have kept his omega on the straight and narrow, would have made sure he lived up to his potential. Harry would have. But Eggsy doesn't let him get away with venting his bitterness in his direction. Eggsy is fire and rage and the most beautiful person Harry's ever met. Harry finds he doesn't care if he has children with someone else or is bound to someone else, Harry's going to adore him regardless, and that's a dangerous position to take.

When Dean Baker's lackeys show up to make a mess, Harry is almost glad for the interruption because he doesn't know what he'd have said to Eggsy had he had a chance. But when Harry rises to get some air, just to get Eggsy's smell out of his nose and to clear his head, and one of them refers to Eggsy as a rentboy Harry's territorial instincts rear their troublesome heads.

He wouldn't leave his mate alone here if he had one and he certainly won't abandon the boy he could have called his own had he been that much more thoughtful. Harry locks the entrance to the pub. The Black Prince won't be serving anymore patrons today.

Harry turns and demolishes the lot of them in a display of violence and strength that Merlin can be heard laughing at through his glasses even if he doesn't exactly know why. Because even if Harry can't have Eggsy he can't help peacocking for him, competing unconsciously with whomever was diligent enough to lay claim to him.

Eggsy can't help responding to it, either. He's not dead, he's pissed at being left to flounder with Dean and his mum on the estate for five years. He's been trying to raise his little girl to love herself and be kind while resisting all impulses to murder Dean every time he shouted for Belle to stop crying. Belle was his daughter, not Dean's. Eggsy's. For her, he had learned to fight down his surging scent of adrenalin whenever he got angry because it was his mum that caught Dean's fists when he thought she was going to fight him over the baby.

Eggsy just had to hold her and hush her and watch because he finally understood the shit you put up with to keep your kids safe and whole. It made him sadder and angrier that Dean was in their lives in the first place. He was supposed to make everything better, not worse, not harder.

If Eggsy's angry about anything, he's angry about their pup being left to that life. And then Harry saunters in his millionaire bespoke with his posh airs and his fucking beautiful voice and Eggsy would do it all again. Because Harry didn't know, and as angry as he is, Eggsy can't hold that against him. So when Harry goes to leave him after Rottweiler and them are out like lights on the pub floor, Eggsy catches the hand Harry slaps on his shoulder. He doesn't let go. He says, "Can I call you later?" like he wants to catch him for a drink or a fuck in a back alley and not like he wants to say, "Do you remember five years ago at that lil dive down the way..."

And Harry startles because he's been caught by the flush on Eggsy's cheeks and the trace of musky arousal coloring his scent, heightening the smell of fertility beckoning him closer for the second time in their acquaintance. Harry should say no and go on his way. He's planted the bug, he needs to test Eggsy's honor. But Harry has been refusing to do things the Kingsman way for so long that he needs no great motivation to say, "yes, all right" and agree to meet Eggsy at the tailor's later. He leaves not with the assured stride of a man who's defeated his opponents but with the constant backwards glance of someone unwilling to leave and unsure he should.

Eggsy steps over Dean's downed toadies and follows Harry out. He's powerless to do anything else, really. He's waiting for the man to go again, to disappear into fine air like so many dreams he's had since the line turned pink on the piss stick and his life changed in a blink. You don't forget the man who made you as happy as Belle's light does, but you don't forget the grief and fear his absence brought either.

When Harry gets into his cab he can't resist looking back at the young man he left behind once. He vows not to leave him again. Kingsman or not, Lee's son deserves better. Lee's son or not, Eggsy does, and Harry will give it to him.

He has words planned for the alpha who lusted for Eggsy enough to give him a child but didn't love him enough to bond with him. The world is a dangerous place for unbonded expectant omegas, he could have been hurt; Harry is irate at even the thought. He'll have Merlin find that man. He will punish him personally. That in mind, he sits back and tunes into the bug he placed on Eggsy.

Eggsy, suddenly free of the thrall Harry's got over him, rushes home before any of the others can wake up because the last thing he wants is Dean in one of his moods turning on Michelle and Belle.

He gets there faster than any of the others could, but Eggsy still isn't faster than a phone call. He gets slammed into a door with a meat cleaver to his neck the moment he steps inside. His mum is screaming. His baby's screaming. His piece of shit stepdad is shouting bloody murder and it's Eggsy's murder he's planning.

He's been scared often in his life—the first time Dean lost it, when his mum thought she might be the one pregnant before she realized, when he realized he didn't know Harry's number or even his last name, the first time Belle was laid on his chest—but this is the first time he's been sure his time is up. He's going to die in the same shit flat that his daughter is gonna grow up screaming her heart out in, covering up bruises and lying to dead-eyed social workers who can't do a damned thing.

Dean's gonna turn that rage onto her someday. When he realizes she's not his kin he could do worse to her and to his mum both and they'll have no one at all. That's what makes him angry enough to swear, what makes him fight like a mad dog cornered instead of cower like he wants to.

"Mum, take her," he says through gritted teeth. He doesn't have to say who, there's only one girl that he ever loved more than his mum anyhow.

Michelle wavers because mothers waver and grandmothers waver when the choice is save the baby boy she watched grow up or the little girl who hasn't had a chance yet. When he shouts, "Go!" she makes the one good choice she has in years—Michelle goes.

Belle's shout for 'Egg'y' reverberates as Michelle makes not for the front door but the back window of the flat, squeezing out onto a ledge with her granddaughter holding onto her like a limpet crying for her protector, for the warm safe smell of him on a cold night. She's no free runner but she's learned her escape routes. She's known all along there would come a time when turning the other bruised cheek wouldn't be enough. She's waited and she no longer knows why she did.

Belle is going to grow up without ever learning who gave her her curly hair or remembering who gave her her green eyes and it makes Michelle want to weep and then be sick on the pavement. But she can't do either, she has to do this right. She has to do this for Eggsy who's done just about everything for her.

Eggsy weaves out of reach of the cleaver, grabbing a canister of flour and bashing it across Dean's wrist till he drops the blade and his wrist twists with a meaty crack. He'd pay for that, he knows he would if he had consequences to come back to, but Eggsy ain't ever coming back after this. Eggsy's tired of watching the light go out in his little girl's eyes like it went out in his and his mum's before him. When he grabs a butcher knife off the block he's prepared for the consequences. The years in Belmarsh, the labor, the emptiness, the missed birthdays. If it'll make his family safe, he'll kill the fucker. He's prepared for the blood.

He isn't prepared for the sound of Harry's voice resounding through the kitchen, "Eggsy, don't. Don't."

He isn't prepared for the rush of relief and disbelief that washes through him when he hears it. He lets his guard down for an instant and Dean is instantly grappling for the knife. The upper hand is lost. Eggsy is going to die. Belle is going to be an orphan. One more casualty for the estate.

But Harry will not allow that to happen.

He never made it back home to his office. He didn't get farther than the streets beyond the estate's gates. He's been watching and listening from his taxi. When he saw Michelle fleeing at a dead run, he immediately instructed his driver to follow. He had to flag her down before she'd stop and she nearly knifed him with a blade she'd had hidden in her sleeve. He nearly let her when his eyes fell on the child in her arms.

Her moss green eyes and cleft chin. The curliest hair Harry had seen outside of his own untamed mop. She smelled of Eggsy and this faint—the faintest hint of brandy. It wasn't top shelf, but he remembered it because he settled on it that night and Harry never settles. It was the smell of Eggsy sleeping in the morning as Harry shut the door on the night before. It's haunted him and now he knows why.

Harry had directed Michelle into the taxi without asking a single question, ordering his armed driver to keep these women safe on pain of death.

Now he's here. He's furious with himself and his choices and his loyalties to a blasted institution that won't change. He could have been here all along, he should have been, but he hasn't been. Harry shoulders past phalanxes of wannabe toughs and others playing at a life of crime. He kneecaps the first to attempt to stop him no questions asked. Posturing will take time his—Eggsy doesn't have.

He floors two sets of familiar stooges who want to get their own back after his display at the Black Prince. He takes no pleasure in the bloodshed. His head, his heart, is already up two flights of stairs, in a startlingly small flat in the hands of a boy he made the mistake of leaving. A boy he will not leave again.

He throws one human obstacle clear over the railing. His atrophied conscience struggles to feel sorry at the splash of human waste he makes on the concrete below. His alpha, the part of him scrabbling upwards at alarming speeds is already planning for more pain, because blood and tears must be paid in the same and whomever has made his mate—his mate, his now—suffer will suffer, too.

That he himself is included is a reflection for another time. All the anger that made Eggsy bristle at his admonishment stands in stark relief to the adoration he remembers in a younger Eggsy's eyes. An Eggsy who had been wooed and not left behind with a child growing inside him and not so much as a note of thanks. This is the boy he would die for and kill for, again and again.

The boy who gave Harry something he never thought he was built to want: a family to nurture, a home to protect, a life to share with somebody good and beautiful and worth so much more than Harry can carry.

Harry will murder Dean Anthony Baker, which means that Eggsy can't. Alphas can be acquitted of rage-induced violence but omegas too often hang for the same offense. Contrary to their nature, the Courts say time and again in simpering tones. But Harry knows that omegas are filled with righteous, protective love and fury. Will they kill to save those they love as surely as any alpha? Of course they will.

He can hear the tide turning, he can hear Eggsy's terror—can smell it and his hackles rise like a storm of thunder-becoming aggression, becoming the last surge of dying strength. Eggsy no longer cares if he survives, but he'll be sure that his stepfather won't.

Eggsy wants to name all of Dean's sins one by one and bury this knife in Dean's throat for each of them. He wants to obliterate the man from the face of the Earth, ensure that no one alive remembers he lived so that he can't haunt them anymore. He wants the son of a bitch to hurt like he hurt, but more than that he wants him gone. His heart aches from beating like a drumroll in his chest, his muscles ache like he can feel every beating coming back to him at once. He's tired and he's angry and he's tired of being angry.

Eggsy knees Dean in the nuts as he tries to turn the knife toward Eggsy's breastbone, and the fucker bends instinctively to protect his junk. Eggsy knees him in the face and his nose bursts into blood and gore, and it feels good. He forgot how good fighting back could feel.

He wrangles the knife from Dean's slippery grasp and grabs the man's greasy hair in hand.

"This is for me." He drags Dean stumbling backward and then slams his skull into the counter with a satisfying crack. Dean's still conscious, groaning, arms swinging. He wants to win but he doesn't get to win anymore.

Eggsy raises his head once more and brings it down even harder right on the sharp edge Eggsy'd tried to baby proof when his Belle started stumbling and Dean had laughed.

"For mum. She was sad and you fucked her right over. This one's for her." He does it again. Dean is barely standing, Eggsy is beyond caring.

"For Belle. My Belle. Wasn't never yours. She was mine. Brought her 'ere in this world an' all. Ain't an ounce of her made up of you. You don't deserve breathin' her air. Now you won't."

Eggsy slams Dean's head into the door frame and he slumps to the ground still as a stump. He's still breathing somehow. Eggsy weighs the knife in his hand. He can fix that.

"Don't," says that voice. "Don't."

Eggsy doesn't turn at it. It didn't save him back then. This is his fight now. "He's gotta go."

"He does. Let me be the one to end it. Walk away."

"You're no alpha o' mine."

"I don't deserve that title, no, but I would like to earn it." A large hand touches Eggsy's shoulder. "Let me do this. Go to her. Outside. The cab we rode in together. They're safe."

For the first time there's a chink in Eggsy's wrath. The pull of his little girl's fear scent and his mother's, all enmeshed in Harry's smoky resolve, distracts him from the kill. Dean deserves to die but his family, they deserve comfort.

Harry's breath warms the nape of his neck. "Darling," he says, his fingers entangling with Eggsy's over the knife's hilt, "please let me."

The words, the tone send a shiver through him. That night Harry had turned him toward the door and, pressed flush against his back, murmured those very words before he stripped Eggsy to his skin and took him from behind.

"The black car," Eggsy asks, swallowing back the conflicting needs inside him. Harry could take him over very easily, could supplant all of Eggsy's wants for his own if he were a worse man. But Eggsy knows the worst of men and so long as Harry will be the best of them for him, Eggsy will have him anyway.

"The black car," Harry confirms as he relieves Eggsy of the knife. He turns toward his new someone, the one he has not forgotten in years of meaning and failing to re-discover him. "Wait for me?"

Eggsy bestows one last baleful look on the sack of shit dying on the floor. Harry will end this. Harry will finally make this go away. "Not too long, yeah?"

Harry draws him closer by his lapel. "Not a moment longer than I must. Go now, out the back. I don't want anybody else seeing you here."

"The others-"

"No longer your concern. The back, darling." Harry brazenly hazards a kiss before he lets him go. His dudgeon is high but so are his spirits. He can have this now, he will have this if Eggsy will allow.

"That's what you said last time," he murmurs, kissing back. Say it again, he thinks. Mean it this time.

Eggsy follows the path his mother blazed out the back, past the rubberneckers and the snitches with stitches in search of more. He doesn't care what they say. He won't be back. He just knows he won't be.

Harry glares at Eggsy's stepfather for two seconds. He doesn't monologue; he wanted to be a colorful megalomaniac in another life, but this is much simpler and suits him far better. Dean Anthony Baker dies as he lived and his death is fitting: cruel, petty, and unremarkable. One shot to the head and another to the heart.

Well, perhaps Harry is a little colorful.

Harry walks out the front door, past all the other bodies and the groaning survivors attempting to rally. They quail at his proximity, flinch when he reaches for his umbrella. He smiles a smile of grave warning: 'Don't speak. Never speak again.'

"It looks like rain, gentleman. I'd suggest you move inside." He nods politely. "Good day."

There's a car waiting at the edge of the estate filled to the brim with passengers he'll each count as beloved. It's time he takes them home.

By the time they arrive at Harry's house in South Kensington Michelle has figured out the who and the what and is keeping her feelings to herself on who's properly to blame. To Harry's quiet delight, Belle takes to Mr. Pickle immediately; Eggsy and Michelle are more reluctant, sharing an alarmed glance and an all too obvious scope of the exits. Eggsy, uneasy in his new environment, reverts to being defensive when he has to explain his life since Harry. He did the best he could and he won't be judged for it. Harry apologizes because what else can he do. He wasn't there.

Harry, whose house is bigger than it seems at first glance, sets Michelle up in her own room and Eggsy up in a room to share with Belle. He orders them a king's feast of takeaway and they picnic together on his sitting room floor gorging themselves on all they can eat. Some of it Belle's never had so all three adults take turns explaining the food to her. Harry's the most worldly having been to most of the places where the food originates but Eggsy and Michelle have a lot of friends in the estate from those places, too, and it's even trade.

Belle grins over eating food like Jasmine from Aladdin and declares that her favorite. She makes a distrustful face at sushi but ends up being a fan after watching all three adults go at it with gusto. She'll go to sleep with dreams of foreign places in her head and a full stomach. Eggsy kisses her before Michelle carries her off to bed. Just as they pass him Belle lurches out of her arms to hug Harry good night and Harry's heart positively melts. She smells of him and Eggsy. This is the first time he's ever held his daughter and he struggles to let her go. He doesn't think he'll ever quite manage it again.

Once they're alone Harry and Eggsy lapse into silence as the day finally catches up with them. Harry killed someone today for the man he hasn't stopped dreaming about for five years. He met his daughter, his daughter. Eggsy hasn't said the words, but he hasn't needed to. Harry can pick out the bits of himself in Belle's features, could write odes to every inch of her that's Eggsy. Harry isn't overly given to flights of romance but he recognizes that he fell in love twice today: again with Eggsy and with Belle for the first time of many. He killed in their name, for their sake, and he will do it as often as it's called for. He'll do it and sleep fine knowing they're safe.

Eggsy picks at what's left of his food, sneaking glances at Harry's profile as the silence lingers. Harry saved him from becoming someone he doesn't want to be, not even to revenge his girl on Dean. Dean isn't worth his soul.

"How'd you know I was in trouble back there? I thought you went to the shop."

Harry casually reaches around to pluck a speck from Eggsy's collar. "Listening device."

Eggsy's scarred brow shoots up.

"I ain't neva seen a tailor passin' bugs like party favors. What's your real job? And don' say classified. Think we're a bit past all that cloak and dagger shite, yeah?"

"Quite." Harry pats his glasses where they're still deactivated in his breast coat pocket. This conversation isn't for Merlin or Kingsman ears. This is for Eggsy, the explanation he deserved that morning. "To be very brief, Eggsy, I'm an intelligence operative."

"You's a spy?!" Eggsy swears and covers his face. He knows enough about black ops not to ask anymore. 'Course he'd fall in with a real life James Bond. That personality in such a tempting package, Harry Hart was made to draw the eye and Eggsy was only human. "Bet I ain't the only one, huh?" He didn't want to imagine anybody else holding one of Harry's sprogs, stroking their chestnut hair or poking their dimples when their kids laughed. That was his; he'd only imagine that as his.

"I am very careful, Eggsy, that I don't…that is to say, I generally take great pains to avoid…" Harry flounders. He hasn't had this talk before and to his knowledge there's never been a need but he wants Eggsy to look at him like he did in the flat, like Harry is getting this right at last. "It was just you. I couldn't think when I was near you and all my training about safer sexual practice went out the window. I wanted to be inside of you. I needed to feel you all over me and I didn't care about anything else. I didn't think. I live my life in this head of mine and when I touched you, that moment I forgot how to think."

Eggsy hadn't thought about anything but getting his hands on Harry from the second their eyes met. When Harry pressed into him, moaning all sorts of nonsense into his ear, all Eggsy had wanted was more. More skin, more teeth, more of Harry's hands pinning him in place. All he'd wanted was everything Harry had to give. He can't fault Harry for wanting the same.

"Jus' so you know, my girl ain't a mistake. Wasn't planned or nothin' but if I ever hear you call her an accident or a mistake, that's it. I'll cut you out and you can kill me if you think I'll let you near her after."

"I wouldn't. I've just met her and I already love her. Sort of like I loved you the second time."

"Ya don't know a thing about me or what I lived through. I could be…nothin'."

"You're not. You're everything." Harry starts to clear the area of their impromptu picnic. His nerves are bowstring tight. He wants so much more than he can demand. Eggsy is in the catbird seat. It's Eggsy he harmed, Eggsy must be the one to decide what comes next.

Eggsy jumps up to help, gathering all the half-empty takeout boxes and shuffling them in some kind of order in the refrigerator. They'll be eating leftovers for days. Days…It strikes him just then that he's thinking of staying here with Harry. He's thinking of throwing his lot in with a relative stranger. A stranger that put an end to the demon that's dogged his years, though. A stranger who shifts like he's got bones made of live wires or like he wants to dart over and kiss Eggsy starstruck and blind. Maybe Eggsy's already starstruck, but god knows he ain't blind.

Five years and Harry's only gotten better with age; hair shot through with silver, crow's feet that make his smile seem wider and his eyes darker and deeper. He still slim and tall and strong, the sort that turns heads, that keeps turning Eggsy's as Harry moves about the kitchen. If he stays there isn't a chance he won't end up in bed with him again, forgetting himself with Harry between his thighs, holding on like his bare hands will be bond enough to make Harry keep him and have him stay. He'll be in trouble and Eggsy wants it so bad it's eating at him.

Harry finally pauses his cleanup once the kitchen is well past spic and span. Eggsy think he's can see his reflection in the cupboard doors. Harry puts down his rag to take Eggsy's hands. He smells of faint traces of blood and sweat and dish soap, the fragrance of delectable spices exude from his pores. Eggsy's mouth waters but he doesn't bother asking what he's really hungry for.

Finally, Harry starts. "I need you to know that I'm not done yet. I'm going to show you how much I care for you if it takes the rest of my life." Because he can only control what he does now, not what's passed.

"You already have."

But Harry is undeterred. He has debts to pay; yes, some to the dead, but oh so many more to those alive. "I'm going to prove I can be a good mate for you." It's a plea hidden as a promise. 'Choose me,' he means. 'Have me.' He doesn't know that Eggsy already knows that he will. This couldn't end any other way.

Eggsy draws Harry's forehead to rest against his own. "Harry, you already are."

Harry struggles to speak. He doesn't know the words for when everything you don't deserve is being presented to you cast in silver and gold.

"I waited for you," he says, finally. "All these years, I felt you were out there and I waited, deep down."

"Hope I'm worth the wait."

Harry caresses his cheek. "Every second."

"Guess that means you should take me upstairs and mark me right now." Eggsy tips his head to bare his neck. He touches his throat; Harry's pulse jumps. "Just here, innit? Sink your teeth in right there and tell all them other pretty alphas I'm spoken for. You know they keep tryin' to take your spot." Regular knotheads who don't know when to fuck off, none that Eggsy can't put down, yet Harry growls, backs Eggsy up against the refrigerator, boxing Eggsy in between humming metal and his alpha at his most fervently possessive. Eggsy couldn't want him more.

"What are their names?" Harry demands, his eyes positively black with anticipation. "Tell me."

"Uh uh, I'm no snitch." Eggsy keeps stroking his neck, drawing Harry's eyes to the unblemished skin. What if one of them had managed to bite him there and leave a permanent mark. Eggsy would be theirs and obliged to remain so. There'd be nothing and no one left for Harry to return to. Even Belle would be theirs legally since a bond overrules a rut.

Harry sighs in defeat, noses along Eggsy's throat. This is his, his mate, his love. No one else can have him. He kisses the tendons standing out in stark relief, biting back the threatening edges of his teeth.

"Please," he murmurs into Eggsy's sweet-smelling skin. "Please, be mine."

"Already yours, been yours all along. Just take me."

Joyously relieved, Harry hauls Eggsy up his arms to carry him back to the sitting room and does just that. He strips Eggsy down to his skin, spreads him across the heirloom rug and implores, "Darling, please let me" before he buries his teeth in Eggsy's neck and takes him apart.