“Fu-”
The fingers were pressing down harder onto his prostate in warning and Eggsy just about managed to stop the expletive with another one. “Bollocks!” he positively screamed, head falling down and drops of sweat flinging from the ends of his hair.
“I need… I need…” He hunched his hips into the movements of the relentless, patient fingers inside of him. He felt like he needed to… to take a dump or something? No. The feeling was insistent and right there in his belly; behind his pelvis. A pressure that has been increasing steadily until it was nigh unbearable. His balls were hurting and his cock felt like an overstuffed, hot sausage. He wanted to touch it but Harry was keeping him on his toes – pressing enough from behind that he had to actively brace himself, fingers digging violently at the floor.
“Harry, I need-”
“Hold on. Not yet.”
Eggsy felt like crying. His face felt hot and his muscles were trembling from exertion. He wasn’t even feeling horrified anymore – well, maybe a bit – at Harry simply rolling up the sleeve of his primly pressed dress shirt and telling him to drop on all fours. That his “… let us call it stamina is surprisingly abysmal, dear boy. And I feel like having you drop out of the training at this point just because of a lack of experience in the more carnal activities, feels like a dreadful waste of time and disservice to all of us.”
There already was a little puddle of cum on the floor beneath him and he was sure, absolutely certain that there wasn’t any more left in his poor, throbbing balls. Only that he also felt certain that he had to come within the next minute or he was going to go insane.
His prostate was suddenly a constant presence of which he was very aware. He was sure he’d never forget it again – that swollen gland that Harry had been manipulating with clever, long fingers. (He felt like he’d be able to find it again later; in the silence of the barracks he slept with everybody else when the others had already gone to sleep.)
Harry was, as always, infuriatingly calm.
“You are doing so very well. You are a fast learner, just like your father…”
And fuck him if having his father brought up in this situation – the man who had trained him fingering him deep and well – wasn’t making him even hotter; blood boiling and belly tickling with a strange, bubbling sensation that felt like pride and lust all mixed up.
“Sssshhh,” Harry soothed and one hand was gently rubbing along Eggsy’s sweaty back. He hadn’t even realized he was making sounds – a low, desperate keening that sounded so strained and forlorn, he nearly had pity on himself.
His knees were bending, hips bopping up and down. He hadn’t been able to stay on his knees for long; soon after Harry had begun circling his prostate with sure, even strokes, he’d gone up on the balls of his feet, unable to stay still for more than a second.
He could see Harry watching him in the mirror’s in front and to the side of them and he was sure he looked stupid as hell; face red and ass bouncing in the air, trying to fuck fingers that stayed lodged deeply; just tickling him with cruel accuracy from the inside. Eggsy wasn’t even properly getting fucked and he still had come like a train for Harry, and it was embarrassing and making him aggressive – but he didn’t have a breath to articulate it because he was making that fuckstupid bollocks keening sound.
Harry didn’t look put out with it. He simply watched with a poker face – maybe there was a light dampening of sweat around his hairline – and kept fingering Eggsy; milking him….
…and telling him he still had to hold on. Still had to stay put where he was and wait for Harry’s sign.
He could see his dick when he turned his head and looked in the mirror next to them. It was there below his belly, bouncing with him and looking red and chubby and like it hurt – because it did.
And suddenly there was Harry’s voice “Now.”, and his fingers were gone and nothing at all was touching him, and Eggsy could feel something tickling his cheeks as he screamed with a hoarse voice, tendons in his neck standing out as he came one last time.
(Later he realized he’d begun to bawl like a little kid; much, much later when he saw himself on the video feed they kept for a keepsake.)
It felt like he had to come in streams and streams, but in reality just a few watery-clear dribbles were bubbling from the tip of his swollen cock before his shaking muscles finally gave out and he sank to the floor, turning on his side and curling into a tight, shivering ball gasping for breath.
He could feel Harry’s soothing hand slowly petting his drenched hair and then down his side.
“Good boy,” he said and fuck if Eggsy didn’t feel another twitch in his plump, poor cock.
Cyberrat Writes 