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[ eggsy knows the truth -- and the fact remains that thomas wants, but he's not in a habit of allowing that to come to the forefront. he's not in a habit of letting himself even dwell on wanting. and yet, this place seems to have brought it all up again. sleeping with eggsy, sleeping with john, byerly's soft and seductive words -- every moment brings want closer to the surface again when he'd thought that he was all but empty of it.

thomas takes a breath and lets it out slowly, looking back at eggsy. steadily, hands relaxed on his thighs. ]

Both are true.

[ and eggsy believes him. he liked thomas almost immediately, after all, instinctively wanting to trust him even though that's something eggsy can't allow. (even with thomas divulging precious information, eggsy can't tell him i'm a spy or that he probably shouldn't sleep with the same person twice, or be as close with all of his friends as he is). at this point, eggsy has other things on his mind: thomas nightingale is over 100 even if he doesn't look it (jesus christ), thomas has trusted him with this information and confessed to wanting him, then and now (thank fuck, seeing as he very nearly felt guilty over the whole affair). rather than say something immediately, eggsy stands and wanders over to where thomas is seated. ]

[ with a sly smile. ] Then we're on the same page.

[ as much as they can be, with everything they are. ]

[ eggsy moves. thomas stays still. he stays in his armchair, hands on his thighs. eggsy wanders over, wanders, and thomas tips his head back and looks up at him, fingers twitching once before stilling again.

when he stands, it's slow. not the movements of an old man but something deliberate. this isn't where he'd seen the evening going. where he'd seen his revelation going -- but there's a part of thomas nightingale that was young once and remembers it still, a part that enjoys rubgy and boxing and eggsy's sly smile more than a man of his age and standing perhaps should. ]

[ it's easy, then, to close the distance, running a hand over thomas' collar. then cupping the back of his head and leaning in to kiss him. not chaste, but not the desperate snog he'd gone for in the bar, either. putting his money where his mouth is, as it were, not letting the magic or the misunderstanding bother him — and proving that it wasn't just something in the wyver air. he thinks this might be the only time sleeping with someone simplifies things instead of complicating them. ]

[ eggsy's putting his money where his mouth is, so who is thomas to do anything less than that? he kisses back, firm but unhurried, letting one of his hands settle at eggsy's hip again as he does. it's good. it was good before, in wyver, magic in the air, and it's not better now, but it's different, something inside thomas' chest more settled. ]

[ there's the hand on his hip again, a familiar and steady pressure. he sighs into the kiss, more content than anything else. and he smiles, too, tugging back momentarily to tease thomas. ]

Y'know, I was gonna be real smooth and straddle you in that chair, but this is good, too.

[ oh, he's been flirting mildly before, testing the lines when things had been unknown, and he's been serious, questioning and processing the revelation about thomas' age. now, he's allowed to be cheekier. ]

Were you?

[ thomas' tone is mild, but there's an undercurrent of amusement at the cheekiness of it. he can just imagine it and he'd be lying if he said that for a moment, still sitting, he hadn't considered drawing eggsy into his lap instead of moving to stand.

but even with the secrets between them out of the way -- as far as thomas knows, at least -- he's not that sure of this yet. sure enough, though, to lift his free hand and brush his thumb over the corner of eggsy's mouth. ]

[ amusing thomas makes his eyes brighten. it's like winning approval, isn't it? a thrill every time.

eggsy hums in affirmation and parts his mouth slightly (invitingly, he'd hope). in his life, he's found that he's often more confident in physical things than verbalising his thoughts. perhaps that's the lack of heart-to-hearts in his life, with little communication going on at home. it's not something he dwells on, at any rate. particularly not in this moment, when he feels assured about the trajectory of his actions. ]

[ eggsy shouldn't have to feel like he needs to win approval, but thomas sees the way eggsy's eyes brighten and something softens in his own expression, inside his chest.

but despite the -- decidedly inviting -- hum and the urge to kiss eggsy again, thomas finds that he's not quite done talking yet. ]

Do you have a particular direction you see this going?

[ "this" -- right now, or in general. no is a perfectly acceptable answer; thomas doesn't have one beyond "i'd quite like to kiss you again" and that's only an answer for right now. ]

[ he blinks once. twice. shifts his weight from one leg to the other. ]

Not really. I mean, I don’t know. [ it feels like the wrong answer, but it’s the truth. he isn’t planning ahead, not regarding this — he feels as though doing so might qualify as breaking kingsman rules, at least if he looks beyond today and now. ] Guess I was hoping there’d be more kissing when I stood up and all.

[ teasing but again: it’s true. he would’ve said i’d like to fuck you again but that seems presumptuous when they’ve only reconnected moments ago. ]

[ thomas thinks it over for only a moment, one hand still on eggsy's hip and the other cupping his face, not withdrawing at all. ]

All right.

[ he says after that moment, and leans in again. he doesn't know whether that's a good answer, whether eggsy's is -- maybe there are no wrong answers, or no right ones. for now, this feels good. he wants to keep kissing eggsy. maybe more, too. he'd enjoyed their encounter a great deal, wyver air or no.

maybe that's enough.

(it used to be, for the young man he'd once been, the kind of man who'd look proper but who'd absolutely follow foreign dignitaries into dark rooms and sink on his knees for them. only when he'd been certain of their interest.

but he's certain of eggsy's, now, isn't he?)

a beat, and their lips connect again. ]

[ it feels like a long moment, when they’re so close but paused and eggsy’s attuned to nightingale, waiting for a reaction to his answer — an indication of nightingale’s own wishes. it reminds him of their first encounter, the moment when he’d asked to go home with thomas. ‘Course this might be better, seeing as it ends faster and with another kiss. this time, he presses more firmly, lifting one hand back to thomas’ face and lazily throwing his arm around thomas. there’s a level comfort to doing this with him that hasn’t been resent for all his liaisons in el nysa. he leans into it, deepening the kiss with flicks of tongue.

belatedly, he realises he ought to have volleyed the earlier question back. at this point, his retreat is more reluctant, keeping his hold on thomas. ]

Could revisit the lap idea, too. [ definitely a point of interest but not the point. ] Or whatever’s going on in your head.

[ ‘cause it seems as though thomas had thoughts of his own regarding where he sees this going, even if eggsy can’t ask for them outright. in general, eggsy thinks thomas considers more than he vocalises. ]

[ eggsy's not wrong in his assessment: thomas does consider a great deal more than he vocalises, watching and thinking and processing things even when he might not seem to be doing much at all. it's how he's learned his way around a new century, really.

but right now, he's content to keep kissing eggsy and perhaps, just for a while, to stop thinking. ]

Mh. [ it's just a noise, barely a hum. whatever's going on in your head isn't quite a question, and honestly, thomas isn't so certain of all the nuances of his own mind regarding this particular matter. he wants to keep kissing eggsy and see where this takes them, right now. in the long run, he's not sure. maybe "just see where it goes" is enough, maybe it isn't. maybe tomorrow he'll realise that in some ways, he's doing eggsy a disservice -- realise, or think that he is even though he mightn't be.

for now, he sinks back into the armchair. looking up at eggsy, lips curling into a grin that's almost mischievous. ]

I won't lie. Your idea is very appealing.

[ he tugs, gently, at eggsy's hip. an invitation. ]

[ should eggsy have asked more plainly? he could have pressed for answers, but the reply thomas gives is too good to deny, even for a second. perhaps that puts them on the same page again — enjoying without thinking. thomas’ grin alone, not unlike the roguish ones eggsy usually wears, is enough to pull him in, though the warm weight on his hip helps. he follows immediately (and if they weren’t already close, he’d trip over himself in his haste to get there).

if he’d thought thomas’ teasing was a win, this is next level. it earns one of eggsy’s impossibly bright smiles, easily reaching his eyes. he settles on thomas, knees bracketing his waist and cups thomas’ jaw to lean in for a quick kiss. eggsy’s well fit enough to find this comfortable. ]

Thomas. [ the glint in his eyes is undeniably mischievous. oh, he loves this — being indulged and indulging others. ] You oughta know that’s a scandalous confession.

[ even when asked plainly, thomas is not always willing or able to provide a clear answer. this works, for now, for them -- eggsy's weight and warmth sinking down onto thomas' lap in the armchair, straddling him, the slow and heated slide of their lips together. ]

In these circles?

[ thomas asks when the kiss breaks, if only momentarily, meaning himself and eggsy only. ]

Hardly.

[ eggsy laughs, delighted by the jibe. in these circles — yeah, just him and thomas, in the privacy of thomas' home. it's nice. and they've already slept together, so eggsy's feeling undeniably emboldened by it all. he likes to be on top, unbothered by the way his jumper rucks up and the thrill of leaning over him. he rolls his hips, an experimental grind down. ]

Now you've got it sussed.

[ that's playful encouragement. ]

[ there is something intoxicating not only about the proximity of eggsy's body to his and the laughter between them, voiced only by eggsy but felt by thomas as well, but also about the fact that -- this is not a mere chance encounter in a nightclub or bar, not an anonymous thing. oh, thomas has, once upon a time, done those as well, but he finds that now, he prefers knowing people. having some semblance of a connection.

(he's been alone for long enough to know that while a man can be an island, it's a very lonely way to be.)

thomas lets out only a hm in response, hands fitting to eggsy's waist and sliding up from there, underneath the sweater, feeling solid muscle, the shifts of it, the warmth of eggsy's skin. he thinks, idly, that he'd like to take it slow this time after the hurry and heat of the last time, and so he leans up to kiss eggsy again, unhurried but deep. ]

[ in truth, eggsy prefers this, too. knowing where he stands with someone, feeling the warmth of familiarity alongside the heat of arousal, enjoying a certain security with his partner. it’s why he’d been alone on the night he’d found thomas, despite a few forward patrons catching his eye (and his arm, at one point).

when thomas’ hands slide over his chest, he considers lifting his jumper off (‘cause he’s absolutely that guy who needs little encouragement to take his top off, well, anywhere) but they’re lacking the rush of last time. maybe he likes that, too. he very rarely had the time for privacy or slow pacing before the world ended. by the time thomas kisses him, there’s a light dust of pink colouring his cheeks. he kisses back firmly, eyes fluttering closed as he and thomas slot together. for a moment, he allows himself to focus on it alone, far as it is from his previous, insistent exploration of thomas’ mouth.

then, eggsy fiddles with the topmost buttons of thomas’ shirt, popping enough so his fingers can glide over thomas’ collarbone (and remind him of the first night). ]

[ eggsy doesn't take off his jumper and while thomas wouldn't have minded the immediate access and the sight of eggsy shirtless, he's quite content with the unhurried pace they're setting. there's something to be said for simply trading kisses and touches without a need for immediate gratification.

perhaps that's his age talking, he's not quite sure -- but he enjoys this. enjoys, too, seeing the dusting of pink in eggsy's cheeks.

when eggsy's fingers find his collarbone, thomas smiles. it seems they're both thinking of the first night. it's easy, then, to just kiss eggsy again and then again, deep and firm but comparatively chaste, intense in duration and intent more than in urgency. ]

[ it's surprisingly nice for eggsy, who so rarely slows down, to decelerate. although he wouldn't describe himself as impatient, he's certain others (rightly) would. this is different. he's shagged plenty of people since the world ended, but he hasn't lingered like this. comfortably flush against thomas, he can't think of anything compelling enough to pull him elsewhere, even if the friction sparking every time he shifts on thomas' lap suggests he wouldn't mind quickening the pace, either.

he can feel thomas smile on his mouth, so eggsy pushes a little more, nipping at his lower lip and then immediately leaning forward to kiss him again. ]

[ thomas doesn't moan, not quite, at the nip of teeth on his lower lip, but he lets out a soft noise that's half pleasure and half encouragement, shifting underneath eggsy to bring them both closer, their bodies slotted together both comfortably and firmly.

he suspects that eggsy can feel him growing hard, just as he can feel that eggsy's a little ahead of him in that regard -- and still thomas doesn't let the kiss speed up. ]

[ now it's like the other night, with eggsy hungrily swallowing the attractive noise thomas makes. he hums, pleased by the reaction and the subsequent pull nearer. yeah, he feels thomas growing hard — yet he doesn't fidget, not like eggsy does, rocking his hips. god, maybe he is impatient. their speed settles once more, evening out as thomas doesn't give chase to eggsy's little trick. he nearly says something, but that would mean less kissing.

instead, he threads his fingers through thomas' own and tugs their linked hands around to settle on his arse. ]

[ perhaps thomas is more patient, or perhaps it's simply age that makes a difference in urgency -- but eggsy leads thomas' hand to his arse and there's another noise that thomas cannot swallow, that he doesn't try to swallow, all appreciation this time, his fingers curling over the muscle there.

curling there, and pulling eggsy very firmly closer, hips tipping up just so to meet eggsy's. it seems even an old dog can turn impatient. ]

[ the combination of thomas letting go enough not to choke down a satisfied noise and following his lead (going beyond it, really, given the feel of his strong hand and the stutter of his hips to meet eggsy’s own in a slow grind) — it makes eggsy moan outright. somehow, thomas still manages to surprise him with bold moves like this. hell, it might be embarrassing if thomas hadn’t heard him far louder and more wanton before now. he indulges in a more insistent kiss this time, bringing his hand back to thomas’ collar to trail it down his skin until he needs to pop more buttons for greater access. ]

Thought I might be the only one gagging for it.

[ an intentional word choice, sounding utterly pleased with himself (if a shade breathy). he wonders if thomas realised how much of a handful (lapful?) he has in his life. ]

[ thomas is not a silent bed partner -- or armchair partner, as the case may be -- but while he makes plenty of noises, they're usually quite reserved. quiet, on the whole. eggsy's moan is anything but and the sound goes straight to thomas' cock. it twitches against eggsy's thigh as it fills out, the material of thomas' suit -- though thicker than the linen he'd worn the last time -- doing little to hide the movement or the effect eggsy's proximity and their kissing is having on him.

gagging. thomas has to close his eyes for a moment and swallow. ]

Hardly.

[ oh, he realises it. quite likes it, in fact. ]

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