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The clock tolls once, telling Steven it’s just hit one o’clock, and he keeps an eye and ear out for his trainer, who had asked him to meet up in Kingsman HQ outside Agent Lancelot’s office. He continues to flip through his book, absentmindedly glancing around the hallway every now and then.
The sound of a door opening catches his attention, as does a warm, inquiring voice that calls out, “Agent Lamorak?”
Steven looks up from his book, then hastily snaps it shut and jumps to his feet when he recognizes Eggsy heading towards him. “Agent Galahad, sir!”
“C’mon! Got another test for ya,” Eggsy says cheerfully, beckoning Steven over to walk alongside him as he calls out a farewell to Agent Lancelot, who departs with a salute. Steven quickly picks up his book and coat and jogs over to Eggsy, falling into step with the older agent. “So! Ever done a honeypot before?” the agent inquires as they head towards Arthur’s office.
The word peaks Steven’s interest. He is aware of honeypot missions, has heard about them from his fellow trainee agents and other Kingsman agents, but he himself has yet to go on one. “I have heard of them sir, but I’ve never been on one before,” he replies honestly.
Humming thoughtfully, Eggsy rolls this around in his mind as they walk through long, winding corridors. “Are you comfortable with doin’ them? No pressure obviously,” Eggsy says as they approach a door with a plaque emblazoned with the name 'Arthur'.
Steven is about to reply, but holds his tongue when Eggsy knocks sharply on the door and then pushes it open, following the other agent inside the office. “Agent Galahad, Agent Lamorak,” Harry greets from his desk, nodding to the both of them.
“Sir Arthur, uh, sir,” Steven greets as he closes the door behind him. He muffles the laugh that threatens to escape his throat when Eggsy drapes himself over Harry’s shoulders and kisses the older man’s temple. Everyone is more or less aware that the two of them are involved with each other and Merlin, and although there are a few people who find it odd, Steven just hopes he’ll find someone who looks at him the way Eggsy is looking at Harry.
“Make yourself comfortable. I have some Darjeeling tea in that teapot there, and some scones as well. Feel free to help yourself,” Harry offers with a smile. Thanking the older gentleman, Steven busies himself with pouring himself a cup of tea, adding some honey and then grabbing two raspberry scones. He has his back to both veteran agents to offer them a semblance of privacy, and pretends he can’t hear Eggsy’s playful murmuring, Harry’s gentle laughter, and the soft sound of two pairs of lips meeting. Counting to three in his head, Steven coughs lightly as he turns around, unable to help the snort of laughter when he realizes Eggsy is in Harry’s lap, and Harry is still trying to get some paperwork done despite this.
Making his way over to Arthur’s desk, Steven sits down in an empty chair and sets down his tea, murmuring a thank you to Harry, who waves his thanks away with a kind smile, then whispers something to Eggsy that makes the agent groan in complaint and then haul himself out of Harry’s lap. “You’re so mean to me, bruv,” he grumbles, dropping himself into the chair next to Steven and pouting at the older man.
Harry and Steven exchange a quick, amused glance, before Harry pushes a piece of paper over to Steven, asking him, “Do you know of Agent Lionel, Steven?”
The second that name registers in his mind, Steven chokes on his scone and carefully sets it down while reaching for his tea to try and wash down the offending piece of food in his throat. Eggsy looks about two seconds from performing the Heimlich on him, but relaxes when Steven finally swallows down the piece of scone and clears his throat harshly. “I’m so sorry,” he wheezes out, rubbing his chest and smiling weakly. “I do know Agent Lionel, yes. A lot of my fellow trainee agents are…enamoured with him, to say the least.”
This makes Eggsy throw his head back and cackle wildly while Harry chuckles and adjusts his glasses. “I understand your reaction now,” Harry reassures, “no need to apologize. The reason why I was asking is because, if you are comfortable, Eggsy and I believe that you are ready for a more difficult mission, which is stealing information from the enemy in the setting of a VIP party.”
Steven straightens his back and takes a proper look at the paper in front of him. It’s clear and concise in its brief. It’s a honeypot mission, and Steven’s job is to obtain information from veteran agent Andrew Ilnyckyj, or Agent Lionel. Listed are some key items: flash drives, watch, rings, pens. If he manages to steal any weapons, that would be a bonus, because people would kill to get their hands on Kingsman weapons and figure out how they work. As far as he knows, Agents Griffin and Gwindor both had honeypot missions involving Andrew, and while they were both successful in obtaining information, neither of them slept with Agent Lionel, although Gwindor got somewhat close.
“Fuck, what I would give to get all up into Agent Lionel’s space again,” Gwindor moaned in a pub one night, beer sloshing over the lip of his mug as he hit the table. “Nevermind the fact that the man smells intoxicating, but he is good-looking as fuck, especially when you’re close to him. He has these eyes, green and brown and beautiful, I swear they can trap you! And the way our Kingsman-issued suits cling to that man…ugh, I can’t get over it.”
“At least you passed! I had Eggsy, and I got so goddamn flustered I failed the mission completely. He stole stuff from me,” Agent Bedivere sighed, nursing their mug of beer and sipping at it. “Granted, I passed a different honeypot mission, but at least you got close to your target the first try,” they added.
“Bedivere has a damn good point,” Griffin pointed out, elbowing Gwindor playfully. “Not to mention, didn’t you get to kiss him? All I got was a ghost of a kiss.” She sighed wistfully, biting at her lower lip. “He leaned in, and that luscious mouth of his barely touched mine before he leaned back, smirked at me, then congratulated me on passing the mission and walked away.” The woman played with the stem of her cocktail glass for a moment, then turned to look at Steven curiously. “Say, aren’t you due for a honeypot mission soon?”
Steven could only shrug, replying honestly, “I don’t know. I joined late, so that’s probably why I haven’t had one yet.”
“Well, when you have yours, let us know, and we’ll get sloshed in a pub, yeah?” Bedivere grinned, laughing when Steven rolled his eyes at them but agreed anyway.
Banishing that fond memory from his mind, Steven meets Harry’s eyes, then Eggsy’s, as he says firmly, “I won’t let you down.”
Playfully slapping Steven’s back, Eggsy cheers, “That’s the spirit guv! Now let’s get to business!”
Several days later, Steven is adjusting the lapels of his jacket, making sure they’re folded correctly, and then exits his room to meet Eggsy, who is waiting downstairs with Harry. “Sir Arthur, Agent Galahad,” he calls out in greeting when he gets to the foyer, smiling at both of them. “I’m ready to go!”
“Excellent. Let’s go; we’ll debrief you about the party on the way there,” Harry says, ushering them both out the door of the Kingsman tailor shop and into the waiting limousine. As they settle into the seats, Harry pulls out a sleek black tablet and taps at it for a few seconds, pulling up something and then handing it to Steven. “This is the guest list. Obviously your target is Agent Lionel, another Kingsman, but there will be other Kingsman agents there, and quite a few politicians and celebrities. The other agents are on separate missions, so don’t mind them.”
“A few of ‘em are also on honeypot missions,” Eggsy mentions as Steven looks through the guest list. “Everyone is aware that you’re on a test mission, so they’ll leave you and Andrew alone unless it’s important.”
“Thank you, that’s good to know. I’m assuming we’ve got aliases, then?” Steven asks wryly, turning off the tablet and handing it back to Harry.
Nodding with a distinct air of approval as he slips the tablet between the seats of the car, Harry confirms warmly, “That we do, Steven. Tonight you are Dr. Struan Che, a brilliant biochemical engineer who was invited on the behalf of Jacob Airington, or Eggsy. Andrew will be going by Alexander Kushnir, a Ukrainian private chef who was invited on the behalf of me, Mateo Elliott.” His lips quirk, slightly amused. “The idea is that Alexander is a chef in the public eye, and a biochemist in the private eye. He is here tonight to trade information with Agent Lancelot, whose role tonight is Dr. Rosalie Skliar, a Ukrainian biologist and chemist. Your job is to nick this information, which should be on some flash drives. Of course, anything else you manage to take will be in your favor.”
Steven hums in acknowledgement, absentmindedly running his hands over his thighs to smooth out a slight crease in his pants. “Thank you for the brief. I am hopeful I will succeed in tonight’s mission,” he says earnestly as the car rolls to a stop outside a beautiful castle.
With an encouraging squeeze to Steven’s arm, Eggsy reassures him, “You’re gonna do aces, guv, don’t you worry. I have complete faith in you.” Steven can only murmur a quick thanks before the driver opens the door and the three of them step out. Not being celebrities or politicians, they have arrived at a different entrance, but one that is still bustling with people. Harry strides through the crowds with ease, Eggsy right beside him, and Steven adjusts his cufflinks as the three of them are cleared by security and then are led to the ballroom. “Alright Struan, I’ll see you around.” Eggsy pats Steven’s shoulder, winks at him, and walks off with Harry, the two of them striking up an engaging conversation.
He watches them go, silently putting up walls and fortifying them, then takes a deep breath and turns to the ballroom. “Right. Biochemical engineering. That’s something I can talk about,” he breathes out, adjusting his tie and stepping into the light.
Andrew taps his wine glass against Roxy’s, murmuring a quiet cheers. “Good to have you back, Lancelot. Been quiet without you around.” He takes a long sip of his wine, eyes flickering over the crowd from their little alcove above the main ballroom. Quickly noticing both Harry and Eggsy are present, he tilts his head in consideration, exchanging his wine glass for a blueberry scone. “There’s a trainee agent here tonight, isn’t there,” he says to Roxy, more of a statement than a question.
There’s a beat of silence as Roxy swallows down her mouthful of pastry, then amusement she explains, “Yes, there is. I assume neither of them informed you?”
He shrugs, gesturing with his scone-free hand. “Sort of. I know I am to be assisting in a trainee’s honeypot test, but I wasn’t told when, or who the agent would be. Although I suppose I know now,” he chuckles, eating the rest of his scone in contemplative silence.
Roxy finishes off the rest of her custard tart and picks up a chocolate chip cookie, playfully tapping Andrew’s shoulder with it. “Sounds like you’ll be having some fun tonight, Lionel,” she teases, leaning against Andrew when he wraps an arm around her back. “Let me know how it goes. I’m sure they’ll be from Griffin’s class.”
A snort leaves Andrew before he can help himself, shaking his head slightly. “I do hope this agent will be better than Griffin,” he sighs, stroking his thumb over Roxy’s side. “She has incredible potential, but her infatuation with me nearly led to her failing this test.” He opens his mouth when Roxy offers him half of her cookie, and the two of them quietly polish off the small charcuterie board they had brought with them, exchanging small talk in between quick bites and sips of wine. Once they’ve polished it off, Roxy excuses herself, but not before slipping two flash drives into Andrew’s hand.
An hour later, Steven has discovered intel on some politicians, which he knows Mei has seen and heard through his glasses, but he still has not found his main target. He does bump into Eggsy, however, and the older agent cheekily shoves a small fruit tart into his mouth before being whisked away by Roxy, who mouths an apology over her shoulder. This catches Steven’s attention; Harry had mentioned that Lancelot would be here tonight, and that she would be passing information to Andrew. If she was down here, mingling with everyone else, there is a very big chance that the information exchange has occurred. With this in mind, Steven snags a champagne chute from a passing waitress and walks around, casually having small conversations with other guests as he looks around for his target.
It’s another thirty minutes or so before Steven’s eyes finally alight upon Andrew, who is leaning against a wall and holding a conversation with a young, brunette woman. Steven vaguely recognizes her from some recent Hollywood movie, but can’t place the name as he politely excuses himself from his (quite frankly, boring) conversation with a much older politician, who is so busy chatting to his wife that he doesn’t even notice Steven’s exit. Before he can make his way across the ballroom, however, the hired orchestra begins playing a waltz, and Steven finds himself dancing with a young man with ash-blond hair and bright blue eyes. They dance together for a little while, Steven murmuring sweet nothings to the other man, but when the dance ends, he excuses himself with a lingering kiss to the man’s cheek.
The trainee agent finally makes it over to the half of the ballroom where Andrew is, and when the orchestra begins to play another waltz, this one a little more upbeat than the last, Steven expertly steps between other people to appear before Andrew, who, if surprised, certainly doesn’t show it when Steven apologizes to the pouting brunette woman and sidles over to him, dark brown eyes glimmering mischievously. “Chef Kushnir, was it? May I have this dance?”
Ah. So this is the trainee agent Harry was talking about. Steven Lim, a Malaysian-Chinese agent who was originally a biochemical engineer when he expertly prevented the explosion of the lab he worked at and caught the criminals who engineered it. Kingsman took an interest in him, and a few years later, Steven was now one of their most promising candidates. Andrew had never met the man personally, but he had heard much about him from Eggsy, who was convinced that Steven would be a “fuckin’ aces field agent” when he finished his training.
But right now? Tonight, they are both playing different roles, and Andrew slips his hand into Steven’s offered one, tugging the taller man closer and smirking up at him. “I would be honored,” he purrs, interlacing his fingers with Steven’s and pressing his other hand to the curve of Steven’s back. Pressing them closer still, he makes sure to catch Steven’s eyes as he slowly drags his tongue over his bottom lip, and does not fail to notice the way those dark eyes grow darker.
Oh fuck. Steven knows exactly what his friends are talking about now. Andrew is an enigma who oozes charm and charisma like he was born with it, and that soft, dulcet voice curls around Steven like smoke. Whatever cologne Andrew uses, Steven wants to roll in it, wants to wrap himself up in this delightful scent and drown in it. And his eyes are beautiful, a gorgeous shade of light green with touches of brown around the iris. He has thick, light brown hair that is effortlessly styled, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes, and well-groomed scruff that accentuates dark, plush pink lips, lips that are currently glistening after Andrew swiped his tongue over them. But two can play at that game, and Steven returns the seductive purr with a bright smile, friendly and cheerful and just a little flirty, sliding his free arm around Andrew’s waist and finding it fits there rather snugly.
As they begin the waltz, Steven strikes up a conversation. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, sir. Your recipes are a marvel, easy to follow and incredibly delicious, and I have made quite a few of them in my past time,” Steven praises. “Granted, many of them take a decent amount of time to make, but it is more than worth it in the end.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate the compliments,” the older agent replies, lips curling into a gentle smile as they glide around the room. “Are you a chef yourself?”
“Oh no,” Steven chuckles, winking at Andrew and smiling sweetly. “I’m a biochemical engineer, actually. Dr. Struan Che, at your service,” he introduces with a dip of his head. “I work under Mr. Airington, who has been kind enough to fund my research. I’ve been doing research into pharmaceuticals.”
Andrew makes an inquiring noise. “Pharmaceuticals? What kind?” He keeps a careful eye on Steven’s face when he asks this question, and notes with approval that his features give nothing away other than being polite and amiable. Griffin’s face had shifted slightly during her test, too much for Andrew’s liking, and that was a subject he knew that she was receiving extra training on. To see Steven have this good of control over his face was promising.
“Like a lot of my peers, painkillers,” comes the friendly reply, intentionally vague but with just enough information. “We’re trying to develop a drug that has the strength of a narcotic, but doesn’t have the addictive risk. It’s a work in progress, but we’re getting somewhere.”
Now he properly understands what role he is playing. Earlier that evening, Roxy had handed him two flash drives, muttering something about pharmaceutical drugs and narcotics. From his own debrief a week back, Andrew knew that his alias was a chef and biochemist who was trying to figure out if he could manipulate painkillers to intensify pain instead of numb it. He assumes these flash drives contain information surrounding that research, and returns Steven’s smile with a smirk of his own, just this side of dangerous. It quickly softens into something softer, something promising, but it alights something in Steven’s core, a flickering flame of arousal that he desperately stamps out.
As the orchestra slows down, reaching a quiet end, they slowly come to a stop, chest to chest and faces closer together than they were when they first started dancing. They stare at each other for a moment, brown eyes meeting green, and then Steven finds himself clamping down on the urge to shiver when Andrew rests his hands on Steven’s hips and squeezes lightly. “I am interested in getting to know you better, Dr. Che,” Andrew tells him, voice warm and inviting. “What say you and I find a quieter place to talk, hmm?”
Steven nods once, tilting his head slightly and letting a smile tug at his lips. “Sounds lovely to me. Why don’t I grab us some drinks? I’ll meet you upstairs; there’s a few empty rooms that we could converse in,” he suggests, dragging his hands up Andrew’s sides before stepping back and walking towards the bar. To outsiders, that probably looked flirty, a quick, fleeting touch, but both agents know that Steven was subtly feeling around for anything that felt like a flash drive. As Steven waits for the bartender to pour two bourbon on the rocks, he watches Andrew pick up a small charcuterie board and then walk up the stairs. His eyes follow the older man as he neatly excuses himself from several conversations with young men and women, who look disappointed that he doesn’t stay to talk.
“Oi chap, your drinks are ready,” the bartender chirps at Steven, who turns around and picks up the crystal tumblers with a smile and a thank you. “Good luck,” she adds very quietly, snickering when he rolls his eyes and walks away without another word.
Damn Jen, of course she’d be the bartender tonight. Steven catches Harry’s gaze from across the ballroom and lifts a glass in greeting before climbing up the stairs, heading towards the room he saw Andrew enter. He shifts both tumblers to his hand, then raps his knuckles on the oaken door and waits for it to open. A lock clicks, followed by the doorknob moving, then the door pulls open. Andrew is on the other side, looking as dressed as ever, but he’s loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his dress shirt. “Come in Dr. Che,” he welcomes, heading back into the room. Steven follows him in and closes the door behind him, flipping the lock. He exchanges a look with Andrew, and then reaches into his jacket to drop a small metal ball that serves as a camera and sensor to alert them of anyone trying to enter the room.
“Good thinking. But maybe be a little more subtle next time,” Andrew says, breaking character for one moment before settling back in, sprawling out on the leather loveseat at the side of the room.
Andrew’s shoes are off, neatly tucked by the loveseat, and Steven quickly toes his off too as he replies, “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind,” before giving himself a little shake and walking over to Andrew, handing him one of the bourbon on the rocks. “Struan is fine, Mr. Kushnir, you don’t need to call me Dr. Che.”
Andrew accepts the drink from Steven with a murmured thank you, taking a sip of the liquor before setting it down on the table in front of them. “If Struan is fine, then you can call me Alexander,” he says, picking up a cracker from the charcuterie board and placing a slice of gouda and prosciutto on it. “Tell me more about yourself, Struan. And, please, help yourself.”
“I’m not too interesting, to be honest,” the younger man says somewhat sheepishly as he loosens his tie and pops the first two buttons of his shirt, the silky fabric of his tie slipping off his neck with a whisper. “My parents are immigrants who moved to the U.K. when I was about eleven years old. I got my PhD from the University of Oxford, and I’ve been working with Mr. Airington ever since.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, idly swirling the ice in his drink, then turns to look at Andrew, eyebrow raised and faint smile playing on his lips. “What about you, Alexander?” he questions, eyes flickering over Andrew’s relaxed pose.
Humming softly in thought, Andrew rolls the question around in his head while he finishes chewing. Taking a swallow of his bourbon to wash down his food, he absentmindedly traces the rim of the glass as he tells Steven, “I have a similar story to yours. I was born from immigrant parents, one of whom was a renowned chef. I ended up in the culinary arts at a very young age, and have been doing it since. It’s my passion, more or less.” He taps the side of the tumbler, ring striking the crystal and making a sharp noise. “Now, Struan,” he looks over at Steven, who swallows thickly when he sees the hunger yearning in those light green eyes, “I’d say we’re pretty well acquainted now. So,” a strong hand reaches over to curl over Steven’s thigh, “why don’t you come over here and kiss me?”
With a smile, Steven sets down his tumbler and gets up, only to sit on Andrew’s lap, settling comfortably on spread, muscled thighs. “I never thought you’d ask,” he breathes out, seconds before Andrew cradles his face and brings him in for a kiss. He curls his hands in the lapels of Andrew’s jacket, then smooths his palms over strong shoulders and down a broad chest.
Andrew knows what Steven is doing, is hyper aware of those long-fingered hands sliding down his sides, but then the younger man does something with his hips that shorts out his brain, and he can’t help but buck against Steven, moaning hotly into the kiss.
Using this to his advantage, Steven quickly snatches the two flash drives from the breast pocket of Andrew’s jacket and slides them into one of the piped pockets of his own jacket. He masks this movement by adjusting his hips, as if he is trying to get more comfortable, and slides this same hand over Andrew’s chest, as if he was simply feeling him up (which, he is). In return, Andrew moves his hands from Steven’s thighs to his chest, sliding his hands under Steven’s jacket and pushing it off of his shoulders. Willingly, he wriggles out of the jacket and lets it drop to the floor, but returns the favor, making quick work of Andrew’s suit jacket and dropping it unceremoniously on the loveseat. The frames of their glasses click against each other as the kiss deepens and intensifies. Andrew’s hands are digging into the curve of Steven’s ass, and he mutters a warning before he stands up. Steven’s long legs wrap around Andrew’s waist, and they soon tumble onto the bed.
Andrew reluctantly breaks the kiss to say, “Mei, we’re signing off,” then turns off his glasses and takes them off. He makes to toss them onto the bedside table, but Steven swiftly takes them from his hands and stretches one long arm over to the left, gently placing two pairs of glasses on the table.
“Merlin would kill us if we broke those,” Steven quips lightly, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Andrew’s hair.
“Stay in character,” Andrew teasingly replies, leaning back down to capture the younger man’s mouth in a heated kiss.
With a huff, Steven retorts in between kisses, “You broke character first.” He tugs at Andrew’s hair, holding the older man’s head in place so he can start kissing down his neck. His lips travel about halfway down before Andrew grabs his wrists and pins them to the sheets, fingers curled tightly around them. Strong thighs press down on either side of his body, pressing up against his hips and waist, and Steven briefly admires the way the fabric of Andrew’s pinstriped navy blue pants stretch over his thighs before the agent catches his gaze with a soft noise. When he looks up, he looks into the eyes of temptation, full of lust and promise, but he also sees something knowing, which puts him on edge.
That slight twitch of Steven’s eyebrow tells Andrew all he needs to know. “You’re holding back, Steven,” he suddenly says, squeezing the delicate wrists he has in his hands and lowering his mouth to Steven’s collarbone to gently bite at it. “I know the strength you have, seen the way you move in a fight. Fluid, flexible, dangerous. So come on, darling,” Andrew coaxes, dragging his lips up the side of Steven’s neck and resting them over the curve of his ear, “drop that innocent act and let go . Or are you just a pretty little face after all?”, voice velvety-soft and low.
When Andrew pulls back to see Steven’s face, the heat simmering in his gut grows into a fire when he sees the way Steven’s face shifts ever so slightly. He notices it, because he’s a veteran agent, but he wagers the average person would not. Dark brown eyes grow darker, sharper, flickering to life with something threatening, something deadly . His lean body, once pliant, now tenses, coiled like a predator waiting to spring. And his lips, which had been making such pretty noises, twists into a sharp, coquettish smile, sending a shudder down Andrew’s spine.
Here are two dangerous men entangled in a fragile embrace, playing a game to see who strikes first. With barely a second to tense his body in preparation, Andrew locks his thighs around Steven’s waist, trying to keep Steven pinned down, but Steven contorts his body, gets his fingers around Andrew’s wrists, and then somehow flips them over, straddling Andrew’s hips and pressing the older man into the bed, their faces mere inches from each other. He tightens one hand over Andrew’s wrists, holding them against the bed, and uses his other hand to cup Andrew’s jaw, thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. Leaning closer still until their lips are barely touching, Steven whispers hotly, “Is this dangerous enough for you?”
With a low, throaty groan, Andrew surges up and collides his mouth against Steven’s in a bruising, dominating kiss. Moaning just as loudly, Steven moves his hand from Andrew’s jaw to the back of his hand, burying his fingers in the man’s thick hair. Lost in the kiss, Andrew doesn’t register Steven taking off his watch and shoving it into the pocket of his dress pants, and before his mind can notice the slight weight change, the younger agent grinds his hips down, drawing a filthy moan from the older agent’s lips. “ Fuck , Steven,” he hisses, throwing his head back against the pillow when Steven moves his hips in a circle, pressing his ass into Andrew’s crotch.
“Yeah? You like the way that feels, Andrew?” Steven shamelessly does it again, revels in the way Andrew struggles to keep himself from falling apart. Leaning closer, he drags the tip of his tongue up Andrew’s neck, sucking a mark onto the tan skin and then nipping at his jaw. Andrew bucks his hips, trying to throw Steven off, but he rides the movement easily and remains right where he is, pushing the older man’s wrists further into the pillow and grinding their erections together. “Uh-uh, Mr. Ilnyckyj, I’m in charge right now,” he murmurs against Andrew’s throat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the reddening skin.
It feels like Andrew is drowning in pleasure, and God help him, he is helpless to the onslaught. Somehow, this man he has met for the first time knows all of his buttons, what turns him on, how to rile him up quicker than any partner has in the past, and it is driving him mad . “Steven, fuck, please,” he gasps out, the barest hint of a plea in his words.
Steven simply hums, sucking a hickey onto Andrew’s skin and pretending he hasn’t heard anything. It’s when Andrew flat-out whines that Steven finally lets up, slowing the movement of his hips and letting the other man catch his breath. He continues to pepper kisses over Andrew’s throat, soft and slow, as Andrew takes in deep, shuddering breaths, but keeps his hands firmly locked around Andrew’s wrists. It bothers him, Steven can tell, can see it in the way Andrew’s one long line of tension, arms taut and neck corded, but when Steven presses their mouths together in a sweet kiss, the body underneath him loosens, relaxes. As a reward, he lets go of Andrew’s wrists, curling his fingers in thick, tawny brown hair instead. Almost immediately, the older man drags his hands down Steven’s sides and settles them on his butt, curving them over the swell of his ass. Strong fingers fan out over each cheek and then dig into the muscle, applying just enough pressure that it makes Steven moan and shiver with pleasure. His head drops to the juncture between Andrew’s neck and shoulder, breath stuttering when Andrew pulls his hips down to grind against him.
Tilting his head until his lips brush against Steven’s ear, Andrew murmurs something that makes Steven moan brokenly, leaves him desperate and wanting for more. “I think you’ve had your fun, Steven, but I do believe it’s my turn now,” Andrew purrs, and oh Steven loves it, loves that warm, sensuous voice that curls around him and melts through him. He slumps against Andrew and lets him flip their positions, lets Andrew manhandle him like he weighs practically nothing. A soft, approving noise from Andrew hits Steven in the chest, makes him moan prettily and spread his legs so Andrew can settle between them comfortably. “Good boy,” falls from kiss-swollen lips, hesitant and soft, but when the younger man arches his back and moans, eyes fluttering shut, Andrew says it again, more confident and firm. He cups Steven’s face with one hand, thumb gently smoothing over his cheek. “God, you are beautiful,” he murmurs almost reverently, and leans down to bring their lips together in a chaste kiss.
Is he dreaming? He thinks he’s dreaming. Steven can’t help but sigh contently as Andrew begins to kiss down his neck, popping the buttons of his shirt as he slowly moves down. Sure, he’s had partners before, but nothing even matches how he feels with Andrew. They’ve known each other for maybe an hour at most, but Steven has never felt this way with anyone, not even his previous boyfriend of three years. Not only is he incredibly turned on, but he feels safe, secure, cherished.
(Both of them have conveniently forgotten about the mission, for the record).
Steven combs his fingers through Andrew’s hair as the older man finishes unbuttoning his shirt and then slides a warm hand over his chest, thumb brushing over a pebbling nipple and making him inhale sharply. “Let’s get this off,” Andrew hums, pushing himself up onto his hands to give Steven enough room to strip off his shirt and drop it on the floor, leaving him fully naked. “Good boy,” he murmurs again, reveling in the way Steven’s eyes grow darker and his lips part with a quiet moan. He coaxes the younger man to move himself further up the bed, gets him comfortable amongst the pillows, then descends onto warm, moon-kissed skin, immediately sucking a dark hickey onto the side of Steven’s neck and his collarbone. Teeth scrape over soft skin, which is followed by plush lips and a swipe of a tongue, the perfect mix of rough and soft that has Steven squirming restlessly. When he gets his mouth on a dusky nipple, he quickly grabs Steven’s hips and presses them into the bed when the younger man’s hips flex up at the stimulation.
Oh, God. It’s like Andrew already knows Steven intimately, knows exactly what to do to rile him up and get him wanting for it. His fingers curl loosely in Andrew’s thick hair, only to tighten his grip when Andrew sucks one nipple into his mouth while pinching the other one. He cries out at the sudden pleasure rocketing down his spine and straight into his groin, shout dissolving into whimpers as Andrew switches sides and lavishes a nipple with his tongue, roughly dragging his thumb over the other one. It feels so good, but Steven is starting to get desperate, and he futilely tries to push his hips up, whining in both complaint and pleasure when Andrew refuses to let him up.
Fuck. Fuck. Andrew was really into Steven pinning him down and having his way with him, but this? He didn’t think he could be more aroused, didn’t think Steven would be able to press any more buttons, but inexplicably he does , submitting beautifully underneath Andrew and making all these pretty, wanton sounds that are slowly breaking down his carefully constructed composure. After delicately kissing Steven’s nipples, which are puffy and flushed, Andrew leaves a trail of sticky-hot kisses down Steven’s abdomen. His hands leave Steven’s hips for a moment, long enough to unbuckle and unzip Steven’s pants, but pauses, looking up at the younger agent. As he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of Steven’s underwear, Andrew catches the man’s confused look and says quietly, “Steven, I need to know if you’re okay with going further. For the record,” his lips twist into a smirk, “you passed the mission with flying colors, but if we go any further, I want to know that you’re doing this because you want to.”
Open, honest communication about consent? Steven’s half in love with the man already. Pushing that startling thought aside, Steven pulls Andrew up and slams their mouths together in a bruising kiss, nipping at a plush lower lip before leaning back and purring salaciously, “I want you to make me fall apart until the only thing I can remember is your name,” punctuating his statement with a wink and a roll of his hips that has his dress pants sliding down his thighs.
Steven’s words do things to Andrew, and he falls on Steven’s neck with a throaty groan, covering it in kisses and hickeys as he shoves Steven’s pants and underwear down and tugs them off his ankles. He tosses them to the floor and smooths his hands up and over soft, unblemished skin, lightly scraping his nails over Steven’s thighs and chuckling when the younger man tries to push his legs into Andrew’s hands. “Patience, Steven,” he murmurs, syrupy-sweet and low, gently pressing down when Steven persists. It’s when he sinks his teeth into the juncture between Steven’s neck and shoulder, growling a warning, that the younger man subsides with a breathless whine. “Good boy.” Andrew begins inching down Steven’s long, lanky body, covering him in hot, open-mouthed kisses and dark purple marks. When he gets to Steven’s hips, he scrapes his teeth over jutting hip bones and soothes the reddened skin with his tongue and a kiss.
Honestly, this may be enough to get Steven to tip over the edge. His skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve alight and singing with pleasure, and when Andrew finally, finally presses a sucking kiss to the inside of Steven’s thigh, he finds himself threading his fingers through Andrew’s thick hair and inhaling quickly. “Andrew,” he breathes out, “Andrew please .”
Humming softly, Andrew peppers kisses down one smooth thigh, then leisurely drags his tongue back up, coming to a stop when his lips are just barely brushing Steven’s cock, which is flushed dark red and leaking. He leaves a ghost of a kiss to the base of the swollen shaft, then drags his scruff against the inside of Steven’s thighs, torturously slow, rubbing his face against the sensitive skin. When he hears Steven’s sharp intake of breath, followed immediately by a low, guttural moan, it’s enough to make him moan with him, resting his head on a well-muscled thigh. “God, Steven, it’s like I made you in a computer and printed you out, just for me,” he finds himself saying, cheeks flushing at the impromptu admission.
“Yeah?” Steven combs a hand through soft, tousled hair and smiles beatifically at him, bright and fond and charming. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Ilnyckyj. I’ve never…never been with someone like you.” He gently scratches at Andrew’s scalp, smile softening as the other man melts into his touch. “I’ve never had an experience like this before,” he confesses, “It’s incredible. I didn’t know sex could be this good.”
“High praise already, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet,” Andrew teases, giving Steven’s legs a squeeze. His smile, playful and soft, now turns coy and seductive, mouth parting and tongue flickering over his lips. The fire that had calmed down in Steven quickly roars back to life with a vengeance at seeing the expression on Andrew’s face, and he barely gets a chance to breathe in before Andrew sucks him into his mouth and swallows him down.
Slamming his head back into the pillow, Steven can’t help the moan that punches out of his chest, or the way his hips futilely buck upwards despite Andrew’s hands pressing down on him, keeping him pinned to the bed. “Andrew, sir, fuck! ” he swears when Andrew keeps his lips a tight little ring of suction around his dick as he inches up, up, up, taking his sweet time to pull his mouth off of him. There’s many a second or two of reprieve before Andrew moves down again, sucking and licking him like he’s desperate for it, like Steven’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. “Ohhh my—oh! ” Steven arches his back and gasps, breath stuttering in his throat when Andrew tongues at the underside of his shaft, roughly dragging his tongue over a sensitive spot over and over until he’s near tears.
Just when he’s about to reach the brink of overstimulation, Andrew draws his mouth away with a slick pop, a thin string of saliva connecting the bottom of his lip to the head of Steven’s cock. His lips are dark red, swollen, and he’s flushed prettily, hair a mess and eyes burning with lust. Still dressed up sans his dress jacket, Andrew is the very picture of a debauched gentleman, clothes rumpled and messy. The navy blue pinstriped suit hugs all of his curves beautifully, and the half-unbuttoned shirt, the way it’s nearly untucked and pushed up with his waistcoat—Steven’s torn between asking Andrew to fuck him like this and get the fuck naked, and he tells him such.
Andrew’s eyes flutter shut, groan pushing out of his throat and a shudder running through his body at Steven’s words. It takes a moment for him to collect himself, but within a few seconds he’s licking a stripe up Steven’s length and smirking at him, purring in a low, low voice, “Fucking you while I’m completely clothed does sound rather tempting, and I do think we’ll have to revisit that topic, but right now,” he pushes himself up and sits back, catching Steven’s heated gaze and smirking, “I’d like to get naked and fuck you through the bed, if it’s all the same to you.”
It’d be nice to have some sort of rebuttal, but to be frank, Steven’s forgotten how to say anything, too busy staring at Andrew as the man basically performs a striptease. Strong fingers carefully unbutton each polished black button, then start at the opaque white buttons of his white dress shirt, languidly making their way down until it’s fully unbuttoned. His hands curl in the fabric of the shirt and waistcoat, and with a subtle roll of his shoulders and arms, the fabric slides down his arms with a whisper and lands on the floor, revealing a tanned complexion and a multitude of scars littering his body. It shouldn’t turn him on, but it does , and Steven feels himself get impossibly harder. Sliding off the bed, Andrew then unbuckles and undoes his dress pants, letting the fabric sag at his hips and show off a peak of black underwear, the swell of his erection straining against the taut fabric. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, then winks at Steven and pushes them down, carefully stepping out of his clothes and letting them fall. One hip cocks to the side, hands coming up interlock behind his head, and Steven feels his mouth go dry at the sight.
Andrew looks like a fucking wet dream. The pose he’s holding is intentional, makes the muscles in his arms and chest flex and pop, and it accentuates his strong chest, the way it tapers to his waist and then flares out again to follow the curve of his hips and his thighs. His cock hangs low, heavy and swollen with precum drooling down one side, and Steven is struck with the urge to get his mouth on it. It’s about average in length, but it also has girth, is thick and slightly curved and like the exact kind of cock Steven prefers, and damn could Andrew get any more perfect?
The look on Andrew’s face is nothing short of ravenous, eyes smoldering and lips parted, and it sends shivers through Steven. If Andrew wants to put on a show, however, Steven will do the same, and he does. He grabs the pillow under his head and stretches languidly, putting care into stretching his arms, then his shoulders, then arching his back, not missing the way Andrew’s eyes rake over him, lingering on the way his erection is shamelessly jutting in the air. Catching Andrew’s gaze, Steven rolls his hips and winks at him, murmuring lowly, “You can touch too, if you’d like. This isn’t a hands-off exhibit, sir.”
That makes Andrew snort out a laugh, which makes Steven smile and laugh with him. “You are such a dork, Steven,” the older man chuckles as he clambers onto the bed, fiddling with something in his hand. There’s a click of a lid being opened and closed, then something falls on the bed with the softest of whumps. Before Steven can ask what it is, there are cold, slick fingers gliding over his hole that make him gasp loudly, gasp fading into a shaky moan when Andrew sinks his mouth down Steven’s shaft until his nose is touching the pubic bone. His hands find themselves in Andrew’s hair again, and he’s soon unable to say anything other than Andrew’s name and a few swear words as Andrew drags his mouth up and down, plush lips and skillful tongue driving Steven up a wall.
Carefully, Andrew continues to gently rub his fingers over Steven’s entrance, coaxing it to relax enough for him to ease one finger inside. When it sinks in to the base of his finger, both men let out twin moans, which makes Steven’s hips buck because the vibrations around his dick feel incredible. This results in his cock slipping out of Andrew’s mouth, but Andrew uses that moment to watch his finger slip in and out of Steven, swallowed up by that tight pink furl. “God, baby, you feel good,” he says softly, then gets his mouth back on Steven, and if Steven thought Andrew was going slow previously, he’s going at a snail’s crawl now. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks, tongue pressed flat to the underside of Steven’s cock as he continues to thrust his finger into him.
A whimper slips from his mouth when Andrew loosens him enough for a second finger, and the stretch feels pleasant, doesn’t hurt at all. It’s only a few minutes before he’s able to push in a third, and that’s a little tighter, and there’s a very slight burn with that stretch, but it’s a good kind of sensation, makes Steven cry out in pleasure and moan wantonly. It’s maddeningly slow, and despite him wiggling his hips and begging, “Faster, please!” Andrew refuses to speed up.
Steven is this close to outright demanding that Andrew hurry it up, but then Andrew twists his hand and strikes his prostate dead-on, and his resolve crumbles with a keen of Andrew’s name. Now that Andrew has found his sweet spot, every thrust of his fingers presses against that bundle of nerves and sends pleasure rocketing up Steven’s spine, and he melts into a garbled mess of whines and panting and fervent murmurs in English and Mandarin. He can feel his orgasm building, can feel the curl of heat in his abdomen starting to grow and expand, and while he wants to chase that orgasm, he also wants Andrew inside of him. So, despite the pleasure racking his body in waves, he manages to tug at Andrew’s hair, gasping out, “Stop!”
Immediately Andrew pulls his mouth off of Steven, arm and fingers coming to a halt. Worry creases his brow as he asks, “Did I hurt you?” anxiety beginning to gnaw at his stomach.
It easily dissipates and then evolves into amusement when Steven huffs at him and replies tartly, “Not at all. I simply want you to keep your promise to fuck me , if you don’t mind. And,” he touches Andrew’s mouth and smiles cheekily, “I’m clean, so if you’re clean and don’t want to use a condom, be my guest.” He opens his mouth to say more and yelps when Andrew promptly tugs his fingers out of Steven and fumbles for the lube he had dropped earlier, popping the lid and squirting a generous amount over his fingers and cock. Snapping the lid shut, he tosses the bottle somewhere and slicks himself up, unable to help the groan that tumbles from his lips as he fucks into his hand for a few seconds. Steven moans at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away from Andrew, but when he starts to feel something blunt press against him, he drops his head back and relaxes, breath stuttering as Andrew pushes in, inch by inch.
At first, Andrew slides in with little resistance, but then he needs to push a little harder, taking extra care to get Steven used to the stretch before pushing in further. Clearly he was being too gentle though, because Steven gives him an impatient look and rolls his hips down, forcing Andrew to sink in to the hilt. Both of them groan in pleasure, Steven particularly enjoying the stretch, the feeling of fullness, the head of Andrew’s cock already brushing up against his prostate. Andrew exhales heavily and tries to distract himself from coming too soon by running his hands up Steven’s legs and his sides, resting them on his hips. “God, you feel good,” he whispers, breath catching in his throat when Steven clenches around him and looks at him.
Sweat is beading his forehead, body taut as a wire and mischief dancing in those dark, dark eyes. His silver-dyed hair is falling into those lovely eyes, lips curled in a devastating smile. Andrew has never seen anyone so captivating before, and his breath hitches when Steven gives an impatient buck of his hips and cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me into the bed?” he hums, a challenging glint in his eyes. “Pretty sure I’ve fucked myself harder than you are right—oh!” A gasp pushes itself out of his throat when Andrew narrows his eyes and rocks his hips, shoving up against Steven’s prostate and sending a bolt of pleasure through him.
Andrew gets comfortable, settling his legs apart, then lowers himself onto his forearms so he can press a searing kiss to the younger man’s mouth. He gives an experimental thrust of his hips, adjusts his position again, then growls against Steven’s lips, “You’re gonna regret saying that.” Pushing himself back up, he grabs Steven’s hips and holds him in place as he pulls out until only the very tip of his dick is inside of him.
Because Steven enjoys this, enjoys riling his partners up, he prepares to throw out another teasing jab when Andrew slams his hips forward and directly into his prostate, literally knocking the breath out of him. He maintains this brutal pace, keeping a vice-like grip on Steven and keeping him exactly where he wants him as he thrusts into the younger man hard enough to make the headboard of the bed bounce against the wall. Steven’s breath comes in short, hard gasps, each gasp punctuated by a thrust of Andrew’s hips. His hands scrabble for purchase in the pillow under his head, hooking his ankles around the other man’s waist and shifting his hips. The adjusted position allows Andrew to push in deeper, and it makes Steven moan and whimper with every breath he takes.
Andrew isn’t doing much better; Steven is tight and hot around him, hole sporadically tightening around him with every roll of his hips. Every clench makes him gasp, and he’s torn between watching the way his cock is being swallowed up by Steven’s body and watching Steven fall apart, ecstasy painted across his features. They fit perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces slotting together, and neither of them are imagining the magnetic pull to each other, the way everything feels amplified.
Relaxing his hold on Steven’s hips, Andrew skims his hands up the other man’s sides and chest, then pinches his dusky nipples without any warning, grinning breathless when Steven lets out a sharp cry and arches his back. It feels like lightning is zinging through Steven, and when Andrew does it again, it takes all of his willpower not to come on the spot. His eyes have been half-lidded and unfocused because he’s being fucked so hard he can barely focus, but when Andrew slows down and begins a dirty grind instead, he’s able to focus enough to grab Andrew’s shoulders and tug him down for a filthy kiss.
Andrew falls onto his forearms willingly, licking into the kiss and groaning into it when Steven clenches around him, hard. He responds with a firm twist of his hips, pressing against that sweet spot so intensely that a hoarse shout erupts from Steven’s throat, voice cracking. “Andrew, you keep that up a-and I’m not gonna last much—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp as Andrew does whatever he did again, only slower, and that constant pressure against his prostate, followed by teeth sinking into his collarbone, is what tips him over the edge. His orgasm catches him by surprise, vision whiting out and pleasure roaring to an intensity so strong he almost sobs as his entire body trembles. It feels like electricity is crackling through every inch of his body, breath catching in his throat, and Andrew’s relentlessness certainly isn’t helping.
Watching Steven peak is what does it for Andrew, and he follows Steven over the edge, burying his face in the man’s throat and moaning shakily as his hips stutter, cock hardening to an almost painful degree before he begins to come. He can feel Steven’s hole fluttering around him, almost pulsating, and a low whine falls from his lips as pleasure crashes over him like a tsunami, each wave bigger than the last and making him shake. “Oh, God,” he swears, slumping over Steven and taking in deep, shuddering breaths as they ease down from their high.
There’s a quip to be made there, but Steven’s been so well-fucked he doesn’t know where his mind is anymore. They lay together, catching their breaths, and Steven finds himself stroking Andrew’s back, lightly scratching his nails over the sweat-slick skin and smiling when the older man hums delightedly and seems to melt into the touch. “So,” he murmurs after a few minutes, smirking up at Andrew when he lifts his head to look at Steven, “I stand corrected. That may have been the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” His smirk quickly curls into a grin when Andrew bursts into chuckles and kisses his neck.
“Glad to hear I delivered,” he says teasingly, winking at Steven and agreeing, “I have to say the same, Steven.” He smiles down at Steven, then tilts his head and slots their mouths together in a sweet kiss as he carefully pulls out. They kiss for a long moment, soft and gentle, and as they naturally part, Andrew whispers against Steven’s mouth, “Let me get us cleaned up,” stealing another kiss and rolling out of bed. He doesn’t bother getting dressed, instead walking to the bathroom and disappearing for a short moment. Steven closes his eyes and relaxes, listening to the water running, the rustling of some fabric, then the faucet turning off. He keeps his eyes shut, oddly trusting of Andrew, and doesn’t even flinch when a warm towel touches his stomach.
Gently, Andrew rubs the come off Steven’s stomach and chest, then murmurs a warning before nudging Steven’s legs apart and lightly stroking the towel over the man’s softened cock and over the puffy, swollen rim. Steven can’t help the way his breath hitches when the towel passes over his hole, eyes fluttering open and catching Andrew’s gaze. It’s kind, if a touch amused, but it’s also admiring as it sweeps over him. “Sorry baby, I tried to be as gentle as I could,” Andrew apologizes, wiping the towel over himself a bit more roughly. When he deems them both sufficiently cleaned up, Andrew joins Steven on the bed, but lays on his side, head propped up on one hand. “So, Steven.”
“Hm?” Steven tilts his head to look at Andrew curiously. “What’s up?”
Andrew lifts up his left wrist and shakes it a little, lips quirked. “I noticed you nicked my watch. When did that happen? And what else did you steal from me?”
Both men dissolve into a fit of shared laughter, and after Steven shows Andrew what exactly he managed to take (flash drives, watch, a pen that doubles as a camera and recording device, two different pocket knives), the older agent nods approvingly, looking rather proud. “Excellent job, Steven. Truly,” Andrew praises, smiling at the blush that rises to Steven’s cheeks. “Now, I think we have a party to re-join?” He chuckles when Steven drops back against the pillows and groans in disappointment. “I know, I’m loath to re-join them too, but we must.” Sliding off the bed, he walks over to where he dropped his clothes on the floor and begins reassembling his armor, straightening out any creases and meticulously buttoning up his shirt, tucking it into the waistband of his pants. Grabbing his waistcoat next, he slides that up his arms, neatly buttons it up, then tugs on his jacket.
Steven joins Andrew, slipping the buttons through his dress shirt and then slinging his tie around his neck. They keep on staring at each other, eyes roving over skin slowly being covered up under layers of clothes. Andrew’s eyes linger on the bruises on Steven’s throat as he fixes his tie, satisfaction visible in his gaze when he realizes that a few purple marks are still visible over the collar of Steven’s shirt. Adjusting his tie self-consciously, Steven accidentally touches his fingers to one particularly dark hickey and clamps his mouth shut on an unbidden whimper. This, of course, does not slip by Andrew, whose green eyes flash up to meet Steven’s startled brown ones.
The air around them is suddenly charged, crackling with tension that only thickens when Andrew steps over to him and tugs at his tie, loosening the knot. Tutting softly, he begins to redo the knot, a fond smile pulling at his lips as he teases, “What a conundrum you are. You’re a devil in the sheets, but can’t even do a four-in-hand knot.” He fixes the knot, smoothing his hand down the tie, and lets his hand linger on Steven’s waist for a second before stepping back and snapping his watch over his wrist.
“What?” Steven reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat, realizes it’s empty, then looks at Andrew with narrowed eyes when he sees mischief sparking in those lovely green eyes. “Does this mean the watch doesn’t count anymore?” he asks, hopeful but not overly so. Lucky for him, Andrew nods, explaining that he technically had successfully stolen the watch; he just happened to steal it back. Letting out a sigh of relief, Steven exhales, “Okay good, I’m glad that’ll still count in my favor,” and slips on his jacket.
Both men now fully-clothed, they hold each other’s gaze, neither man wanting to turn away, but when their watches chirp at them, signaling the party is starting to draw to a close, they turn away from each other and grab their respective shoes. They put them on in companionable silence, then slide their glasses back onto their faces and tap at the corners. Once both agents confirm they are back online, Steven picks up the small camera he had dropped earlier while Andrew waits by the door. As they walk out together, Steven touches Andrew’s arm, fingers loosely curling in the sleeve. “I’ll…see you around?” he asks more than says, voice trailing up in a question.
With a chuckle, Andrew leans over and kisses Steven deftly, parting with a last nip to his mouth. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart,” he promises, then departs with a wink.
Two hours later, when Steven is riding back to Kingsman HQ with Eggsy and Harry, he blushes and flails in embarrassment as they shower him in praise, having been informed by Agent Lionel about how he passed the test with flying colors. “Knew you had it in ya, guv! Well fuckin’ done!” Eggsy crows, squeezing Steven’s thigh and patting it firmly.
“Yes, very well done Steven. Agent Lionel had nothing but good things to say about you, which is high praise considering how strict he is on trainees,” Harry agrees, smiling proudly at Steven. “We’ll have to discuss this further, but I’d wager a promotion is not that far off in your future, Agent Lamorak. Bloody well done, indeed.”
A few days later, Steven is called to Sir Arthur’s office, where Eggsy is waiting outside the door. They exchange a warm hug and “how are you”s, but Steven barely manages to say that everything’s well when Eggsy bursts out, “Harry an’ I have decided that you’re skilled enough to have a more dedicated trainer now! So congratulations on this little graduation up the ranks, guv! You’re a senior trainee now.”
Steven’s jaw drops, eyes widening in surprise. “Wait, seriously?? I haven’t been here as long as my peers though!” he interjects, biting nervously at his bottom lip.
Clapping Steven on the shoulder and grinning, Eggsy replies fervently, “Nonsense! You show incredible promise, and there’s no sense in holding you back with your peers. Now come on! I've gotta bring you to your new mentor!” They set off at a brisk pace, and any of Steven’s questions about his new mentor is met with vague answers or sly grins.
After walking through several corridors, they come to a stop outside a door; the plaque that’s usually emblazoned with a name is missing, and Steven privately wonders if that’s on purpose. “Your new mentor’s in there,” Eggsy declares grandly, gesturing to the office. “Hope you’ll get along with ‘im! Best of luck to you, mate. It was an honor to train you,” he concludes with a smile, hugging Steven and patting his back.
“It was an honor to be trained by you, Agent Galahad,” Steven replies earnestly, giving Eggsy’s hands a firm squeeze. “I learned so much from you, and I hope to continue to learn from you!”
Eggsy laughs and pulls Steven in for another hug, pecking him on the cheek as they pull away from each other. “You’re a real sweetheart, bruv. Now go introduce yourself to your new trainer! I’ll see you around, Lamorak,” he grins, shooing Steven towards the office and then leaving with a cheery wave.
Returning the wave, Steven watches Eggsy walk away for a moment, grateful for everything he has learned from him, and then turns to face the oaken door gilded with lions. He takes a deep, steadying breath, then knocks on the door twice, the sharp sound ringing in the air. “Come in!” a voice calls from inside the office. Steven tilts his head, trying to place the voice, and still can’t figure it out as he pushes open the door and then closes it behind him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he starts off, turning from the door to the desk, and then freezes in place when he sees Andrew Ilnyckyj leaning against the desk, impeccably dressed, eyes dark and lips quirked in a ghost of a smirk. He’s wearing a crisp olive green suit that suits his tanned skin beautifully, but doesn’t have his glasses on this time. They’re nowhere to be seen, which isn’t that odd (Steven isn’t wearing his either), but it makes him curious all the same. Then again, they’re in the safety of a Kingsman office, so he supposes it’s not really necessary.
Anyways, Steven’s mind is wandering, which it occasionally does when he has no idea what to say. Like right now. Oh fuck, but Andrew looks good like this, and the slight tilt to his head just draws attention to his strong jawline, the light hitting his green eyes and illuminating the slight ring of brown around the pupils. Steven’s eyes drag over that strong jaw, then over broad shoulders, down the subtle swell of his pectorals, and further down to…oh. Oh. His head snaps up, cheeks flushing rapidly when he realizes that Andrew is hard, and that is his erection outlined in his tailored pants.
Andrew lets his eyes wander, slowly looking Steven up and down and making the younger man adjust his shirt and swallow audibly, cock starting to stir in his pants. Lifting a hand, he crooks his finger and beckons Steven closer, who swallows again but walks forward until they’re barely a foot apart. He glances down, notices the growing tautness of Steven’s charcoal gray pants, and looks back up at Steven, who is blushing with both embarrassment and arousal. A smile curls on his lips, slow and heated, and it distracts Steven enough that he ends up gasping loudly when Andrew’s hands shoot out and grab Steven’s arms, pulling him closer until they’re pressed up against each other, one long line of heat. One arm encircles Steven’s waist while the other inches down until—
“Oh fuck,” Steven gasps, curling his fingers into the lapel of Andrew’s jacket and whining when Andrew cups him through his pants and squeezes his erection. He’s gone from embarrassed to embarrassingly aroused in the span of ten seconds, but he’s so turned on he just doesn’t care. “A-Andrew, please,” he stutters, whining when a thumb smooths over a sensitive spot, “please, sir, I want you so badly.”
“Believe me baby, the feeling is mutual,” Andrew murmurs into Steven’s neck, stroking his firm length with one hand and grabbing his ass with the other. He sucks a bruising kiss onto the younger man’s neck, hard enough that Steven is melting, then tilts his head up to whisper hotly, “Remember when I promised to fuck you when we’re fully clothed?” A moan bursts from Steven’s mouth, loud and desperate, his head dropping on Andrew’s shoulder with a soft thump, breath already harsh and heavy as Andrew continues in that soft, warm, voice, “Ever wanted to be fucked over a desk?”
Although Steven can’t find the words to tell Andrew exactly how much he has fantasized about that since their honeypot mission, he figures the whine that tears itself from his throat is good enough.
They don’t leave the office for a little bit.
A couple hours later, when Steven is chatting with his friends at the local (Kingsman-owned) bar, he trails off mid-sentence when his friends all stare at him (or rather, somewhere behind him). “What? Is someone there?” he asks, head starting to turn to the left. Warm palms suddenly press against his cheeks, stopping him in place and then gently moving his head back. The hands slide down to rest on his shoulders, thumbs stroking his neck, and then the rasp of stubble against his ear tells him all he needs to know.
“Good evening Agent Lamorak,” Andrew murmurs, pressing his lips to Steven’s cheek and then straightening up, nodding to the other agents who are staring at them in shock. “Good evening everyone,” he says, smirk widening when he sees Gwindor and Griffin flush and subtly adjust themselves, “I’m Steven’s new mentor, and the target of his successful honeypot mission. I’d stay and chat, but I’m afraid I’ve got an appointment with Lancelot. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Brushing another kiss against Steven’s reddened face, Andrew gives his shoulders a squeeze and then saunters off to the other side of the pub, calling out a greeting and laughing as Roxy tugs him into the booth beside Eggsy.
Gwindor, Griffin, and Bedivere all watch him go, then turn back to look at Steven, who shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “Surprise?” he says weakly.
He bursts into startled laughter when Griffin punches his arm and hisses, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?? Your target was Agent Lionel!? And you got promoted? You lucky son of a bitch!” She whacks him again, albeit gentler, and half-sighs, “I’m both jealous and proud.”
“Honestly Steven, I’m with Griffin here,” Gwindor laughs, “it’s obvious you guys went further than she or I did with him,” wiggling his eyebrows at Steven and snickering when Steven hits his arm and tells him to shut up. Lifting his mug up, he adds kindly, “Congratulations on the promotion to senior trainee. Proud of you mate.”
“Yes, congratulations on both things,” Bedivere agrees, toasting Steven and smiling fondly at him. “You deserve it.”
Steven can’t help but smile despite his red cheeks, tapping his beer bottle against his friends’ drinks. “Thanks guys, I appreciate it. Means a lot,” he says gratefully. They all take a drink, then Griffin slams her drink down and points menacingly at Steven, sly grin tugging at her lips.
“Alright Steven, we’ve been nice all evening, but not anymore! As tradition requires, spill the tea,” she demands, cackling unrepentantly when Gwindor makes a quip about Steven looking particularly well-fucked when he first walked into the bar and Steven turns a bright shade of red. He turns to Bedivere for support, but they arch an eyebrow at him and smile sweetly, clearly in full agreement with Gwindor.
Burying his face in his hands and groaning, Steven mutters loudly, “I hate all of you,” not meaning a single word of it. Letting his hands fall down, he takes a swig of his beer and resigns himself to his fate, leaning against the wall and beginning to explain what happened.
(He doesn’t go into all the details, but it’s enough that Griffin is simultaneously jealous and surprised, Gwindor is impressed, and Bedivere, bless them, is the calm in the storm, as always. Steven loves his friends).