The best part about being in a relationship with two people, in Eggsy's opinion, is learning the different ways in which they express their wants and needs. He knew going in that he was probably going to end up like some kind of shared, overly pampered pet, but what he didn't know is that the contrast between Harry and Merlin would be so fucking lovely. On the one hand there's Harry: manipulative and playful but with a gentle hand when need be, and then there's Merlin, strict and stern, with a particular fondness for glowing red arses patterned with dark hand prints.
And yes, this is the same Merlin who likes to be called 'Sir' when he's balls deep and has his teeth in Eggsy's neck.
All in all it's been working out very well for the three of them. The work, they play, they work some more; sometimes Eggsy's sent off on a week-long mission, sometimes Harry's gone for two or three. Right now Galahad is somewhere in Moscow - deep cover, top secret, all that good stuff - and Eggsy's at Merlin's place, waiting for the Quartermaster to return home for dinner.
Honestly, it's a little boring. Eggsy has already investigated Merlin's home - not out of any sense of obligation, just because he's nosy - and there's nothing even remotely decent on the television, which means he's spent the last hour or so lolling around on the couch watching old reruns of Jeremy Kyle. He glances at the clock: half an hour until Merlin gets back, and what the fuck can he do in half an hour -
But then it comes to him, and a slow smile spreads across his mouth. He reaches for his phone and taps in a quick text message:
got somethin nice for u 2 come home 2 daddy
meet me in ur study ok
Then he heads up to the study, smirking in the knowledge that he hates being called 'daddy' over 'Sir'. Acting out has always been the best way to get Merlin to give him what he wants - what they both want - and he's enough of a brat to be able to thoroughly enjoy misbehaving. Peeling off his clothes as he goes, Eggsy makes sure to leave the garments scattered up the stairs and along the upper landing, and by the time he reaches the study he only has his underwear and socks left to get rid of. Then it's just a matter of climbing up onto Merlin's desk; he keeps lube in the top drawer, he knows he does, which is going to come in very handy for what he has planned.
The carelessness with which he treats Merlin's desk is intentional. Although he doesn't touch the computer he lets folders slip to the floor, knocks over his pen pot, letting his thick thighs splay wide as he fondles and plays with himself until he's short of breath and pink in the cheeks. Harry says he's lovely when he's like this and Merlin's never disagreed, although he can't keep the glimmer of mirth from his eyes at the prospect of him finding him like this.
Fingers crossed he'll be annoyed enough to put him over his knee.
Now he leans against the closed door to the live house, the building practically empty aside from them. He smiles. ]
Hey, what did you think about the show? We were good, right? Which one was your favourite?
[Work wasn't difficult. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy a nice shower afterwards every day. The warm water cascading over his shoulders just felt too perfect to ignore.
So, like every other day, he had headed to the bathroom and flipped the water on. A few moments later and steam was pouring from the room. The door had been left open even as the tall, tanned, toned blond had slipped into the shower and under the water.
His content whistling could be heard down the hallway.]



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