Performance Evaluation [oneshot]
Title: Performance Evaluation
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur x Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,389
Summary: In which Merlin ensures Arthur has a good time, both at a work function, and when he wakes up after.
A/N: I feel like this was missing something, but I'm not sure what it was...*shrugs* I mostly just wanted to write merthur porn, which I think I thoroughly accomplished:D Enjoy!
Written for the prompt: 'Office Party' over @ adventchallengefor Day 2/25
There were reports to file, proposals to draw up, contracts to look over, paychecks to sign-a million other better things he could be doing rather than trudging his way downstairs to spend the rest of his night trapped in stilted conversations with people he barely knew as part of some ridiculous scheme from Human Resources to force them all to be friends. Arthur's father hadn't started Pendragon Corp. to make friends, especially not with a bunch of minimum wage drones that were sure to be the only employees in attendance of the party as all the higher-ups had proper social engagements to cater to. All of them but Arthur, of course, because he was the boss and therefore had to attend whether he liked it or not. It was expected of him.
As soon as he opened the door to the oversized conference room they were holding the event in, he was assaulted with an abhorrent array of cheery Christmas music-Rudolph the Red-nosed bloody Reindeer-and the seemingly ever-present odor of cinnamon that permeated all Christmas decorations. Arthur loathed cinnamon. Give him some proper chocolate any day.
The room had been pretty subdued before Arthur's arrival, and was now nearly silent. Arthur sighed mentally as everyone in the room turned to stare at him. You'd think he'd grown horns judging by the way they gazed at him almost in wonderment. He waved at them all awkwardly. Thankfully, he was saved from having to mingle with his underlings by his assistant.
"Finally! Where have you been? You're an hour late," Merlin chastised, stalking towards him in his swinging, precarious gait that never failed to draw Arthur’s attention to his bony hips.
"Actually, Merlin," Arthur drawled disdainfully, "I'm exactly on time. You just haven't turned your watch back. Still."
Merlin frowned down at his watch. Cross-checked it with his mobile. Gave it a betrayed scowl. And began to fiddle with the dials.
"Honestly, Merlin, sometimes I wonder why I keep you around."
"Your last PA made jokes about pens," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur shook his head. "I think I must just feel sorry for you."
Merlin gave him a deadpan look. "Pens."
Despite himself, Arthur laughed. Merlin was mostly useless at his job, but he came through when it counted, and he was brilliant at relieving tension. Sure, he did it by being an idiot, but whatever worked…This was Merlin's first Christmas season as Arthur's PA, and the blond was already starting to think it would be his least painful yet.
"Right, well, I'm stuck with you for a few more weeks, at least. Sacking not being in with the Christmas spirit and all that."
"Depends on what kind of sacking," Merlin leered, leaning in close.
Arthur leaned in as well. "And that would depend on your performance."
Smiling mischievously, Merlin handed him a thin stack of note cards. "Your speech, sir. Would you like to have a drink first or just dive right in?"
Sir? Arthur was immediately on his guard. Uncalled for adherence to Arthur’s authority was never a good thing. He didn't like the devilish look in his assistant's eye one bit either. Something unfortunate almost always happened to him when Merlin got that look. He wasn't sure if it was a testament to Merlin's blockishness that he was obvious enough that Arthur knew he was up to something; or to his cleverness, since Arthur invariably fell for his tomfoolery despite looking out for it.
Warily, he accepted the cards while giving Merlin a suspicious glare. The man just grinned wider at him. Arthur pursed his lips and waved his doubts away with his hand. Tonight was going to be awful no matter what anyway. "Let's just get this over with."
If possible, Merlin smiled wider. Wrong decision, Arthur thought to himself, but it was too late now. Merlin was already leading him along the conference table adorned with crock pots filled with things the staff had made for the party. Arthur stared longingly at a side table covered in every alcohol known to man. He could use a scotch.
"The speech is short, I hope?"
"Of course, sir. Short and sweet." Merlin seemed entirely too pleased with himself and Arthur cringed. Bad signs.
Merlin brought them to the front of the room where the projection screen would normally be. As it was, the screen was rolled up and a gaudy wreath, dripping with tinsel and tiny ornaments, hung in its place. A short mic and stand stood at the head of the table and Merlin swept an arm out dramatically to present it to him.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Get me a scotch, Merlin. And quit being so bloody cheerful."
"Right away, sir," he said cheekily. Div would probably bring him wine, or-God forbid-bitter.
Fortified with the knowledge that booze in some form was on its way, Arthur turned the mic on and tapped it a few times to test it was working. The room was silent but for the shuffling of feet and tinkling of ice in plastic cups. All eyes were on him, but he was used to that. He glanced down at his note cards and began.
"Welcome, everyone, to Pendragon Corp's 2011 Foreign Relations Office staff Christmas bash." Already Arthur had slipped into his calm, falsely jovial speech-voice. He'd given so many speeches he could glance at a few sentences written on the cards and say them expertly without even thinking about what he was saying. Thinking about it too much made him nervous, and that was the last thing he needed to be when making business proposals.
"Thank you all for coming. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves-you should be, considering how much booze you've got stashed back there." He smiled at his sorry excuse for a joke and there was a generous smattering of amused chuckles from the crowd in response.
"I don't want to keep you from the feast, but I just wanted to take a moment to remind us all what this time of year is really about. It's not about giving or receiving presents. It's not about decorating the tree or hanging lights around your home. It's not even about spending time with loved ones and cherishing your family. And it certainly isn't about the birth of Jesus Christ, as he wasn’t born anytime close to December. It's about celebrating the winter solstice and the resurrection of various ancient pagan su-" Arthur stopped short. Frowning, he looked more closely at the note cards Merlin had given him.
"Merlin!" he shouted, brandishing the cards at the man standing in the back of the room, trying to look innocent. "What is this rubbish? Pagan sun gods? Are you so incompetent that I can't even trust you to write a proper speech for a bloody office party?"
The room was silent for a moment in light of Arthur's outburst. He was furious. This sham of a party was already painful enough without the whole office thinking he was a pagan devil-worshipper.
"I don't know what you mean, sir. You asked me to write something exulting the true meaning of Christmas. Not wanting to disappoint, I researched it thoroughly. According to many reputable historians, it is the culmination of the Roman Catholic Church integrating many pagan customs into the Christian religion as a way to spread their influence over a wider range of people," Merlin said, clearly struggling not to burst out laughing. But it was a losing battle and soon enough he was shaking with mirth all over the mail delivery bloke-Gabe? Garett? Gwaine? Something like that...
"Merlin," he began, but the man cut him off.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Arthur," he said, making his way to the blond with a glass of liquid that was a promising amber color. "No one wants to hear your uninspired, horseshite speech that you didn't even write yourself-especially when they could be getting pissed and eating biscuits. And if I know you, you don't want to be giving it either, so have a drink," he handed Arthur the sweet, glorious scotch, "Have a bite to eat, and sing a bloody carol. These work things are only as painful as you make them."
Arthur took a fortifying gulp of scotch, downing half the glass, and contemplated Merlin. Would it gain him anything to fight? Probably not. Merlin had a way of deflecting Arthur’s wrath.
"Fine," he finally said, scowling in defeat, "But you are going to pay for this later."
"For what?" he asked, putting a friendly arm around Arthur's shoulders and grinning like the idiot he was. If people didn’t know any better, they’d probably think they were mates rather than executive and subordinate. They’d be right. "Showing you a good time? I'll be sure to allow you to wallow in your own self-induced misery next time."
Arthur grunted and finished off his drink. He handed the empty glass to Merlin. “Get me another. And make it a double.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. Arthur wasn’t much of a drinker; he had no tolerance. If he drank that much hard liquor that quickly, he’d be pissed up in no time.
Arthur smirked. “If I’m to sing carols, I’ll need to be fortified with spirits first.”
“Spirit of Christmas not good enough for you?”
“Not even close.”
Chuckling, his assistant went off to fetch more hooch.
--
Snow was brilliant. It was soft and fluffy, and kissed your cheeks when it landed on your face. It cooled your overheated, rat arsed body that felt like it was sweating buckets despite your lack of clothing. Not to mention it was beautiful. Arthur could’ve twirled in it all night but for Merlin’s incessant nattering.
“Come on, Arthur, quit dawdling. Got to get you home before you pass out in the road.” They’d regretfully left the party some time ago. Arthur had had more fun at the work function than he’d thought possible. Food and drink had been plentiful. The company surprisingly delightful. And the entertainment-by way of caroling drunkenly to each other at increasingly more ghastly and cacophonous levels as the alcohol flowed-had been both generous and spectacular.
He hadn’t wanted to leave, but around the time he fell over randomly, dragging two other people with him, Merlin had decided it was time to take him home.
“Merlin,” Arthur answered, leaning more heavily on the man than he knew, “I feel fine. I’m not going to pass out anywhere, so feel free to bugger off.”
Merlin grinned wickedly at him. “Oh, I intent to, sir.”
--
Arthur awoke wanting to die. Blearily, he fell-literally-out of bed and managed to stumble and half-crawl to the loo, where he relieved himself and seriously contemplated sicking up for a good half an hour before crawling back to bed, promising himself he’d never drink again.
The second time he woke up, it was to the soft sound of a familiar voice speaking quietly. He didn’t wake enough to understand what was being said, or who was saying it, but he hardly cared. It soothed him back to sleep again.
Third time’s the charm. He woke fully the next time to the magnificent feel of a mouth on his cock. He was sprawled out across his bed on his back, covered to his chest with his duvet. The owner of the glorious mouth lifted the duvet repeatedly as he bobbed over Arthur’s prick. The soft material slid up and down over his nipples, teasing them to hardness. Arthur was still a bit drowsy, but thankfully not desiring death anymore-just for that mouth to suck a little harder.
His hands, previously spread out around his head, snaked under the covers and into the short, cropped hair of his assistant. “Leave it to you, Merlin, to get me sloshed and then take advantage of me whilst I’m vulnerable,” he said offhandedly. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
He tugged the man’s head off his cock just enough to thrust up into it again. Merlin moaned and his hands slid down his hips to grip his thighs, not trying to hold him down, but just wanting to have something to hold onto. Arthur smiled at the implication of the movement: consent for more. He began to thrust up into the hot wetness of Merlin’s mouth as he pleased, holding his head firmly where he wanted it.
The sounds Merlin made when he sucked cock were incredible. Whimpers and mewls. Grunts and moans. The harsh intake and exhale of air through his nose. The wet, vulgar sounds of his throat and mouth working around his prick. Music to Arthur’s ears. Only thing better was the sight of him-slowly revealed by the duvet gradually slipping off with every push forward. His lips pink and swollen wrapped tight around him. His eyes closed as he concentrated on the feel. His nostrils flaring, struggling to breathe around Arthur’s onslaught. His arse clenching as he thrust in time with Arthur against the bed, desperate for friction.
Arthur screwed his eyes shut and came at the view. He thrust as deep as he could get and held Merlin there, forcing him to take everything. When he let go, Merlin jerked back and coughed a bit, but once he’d recovered, he turned his blue eyes on Arthur and crawled up his body.
Having never let go of his hair, Arthur pulled him closer, attacking his lips with his teeth. Merlin’s still hard cock slid against his thighs, slick with precum and Merlin’s excess saliva. The man started rutting against him frantically, moaning into Arthur’s mouth. His hands were everywhere: in Arthur’s hair, massaging his shoulders and arms, tickling his chest, rubbing his nipples with his sweaty palms. If he kept it up, Arthur might get hard again like some randy teenager.
Merlin came with a shout, lifting himself up with his hands on Arthur’s shoulders to better grind his hips down. Arthur could feel his release like a hot wave against his belly, smeared thoughtlessly between them when Merlin collapsed on top of him.
“So I guess this means I’m not sacked then?” Merlin said, rolling off him once they’d both recuperated somewhat.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Merlin. Your performance review has only just begun.”
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur x Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,389
Summary: In which Merlin ensures Arthur has a good time, both at a work function, and when he wakes up after.
A/N: I feel like this was missing something, but I'm not sure what it was...*shrugs* I mostly just wanted to write merthur porn, which I think I thoroughly accomplished:D Enjoy!
Written for the prompt: 'Office Party' over @ adventchallengefor Day 2/25
There were reports to file, proposals to draw up, contracts to look over, paychecks to sign-a million other better things he could be doing rather than trudging his way downstairs to spend the rest of his night trapped in stilted conversations with people he barely knew as part of some ridiculous scheme from Human Resources to force them all to be friends. Arthur's father hadn't started Pendragon Corp. to make friends, especially not with a bunch of minimum wage drones that were sure to be the only employees in attendance of the party as all the higher-ups had proper social engagements to cater to. All of them but Arthur, of course, because he was the boss and therefore had to attend whether he liked it or not. It was expected of him.
As soon as he opened the door to the oversized conference room they were holding the event in, he was assaulted with an abhorrent array of cheery Christmas music-Rudolph the Red-nosed bloody Reindeer-and the seemingly ever-present odor of cinnamon that permeated all Christmas decorations. Arthur loathed cinnamon. Give him some proper chocolate any day.
The room had been pretty subdued before Arthur's arrival, and was now nearly silent. Arthur sighed mentally as everyone in the room turned to stare at him. You'd think he'd grown horns judging by the way they gazed at him almost in wonderment. He waved at them all awkwardly. Thankfully, he was saved from having to mingle with his underlings by his assistant.
"Finally! Where have you been? You're an hour late," Merlin chastised, stalking towards him in his swinging, precarious gait that never failed to draw Arthur’s attention to his bony hips.
"Actually, Merlin," Arthur drawled disdainfully, "I'm exactly on time. You just haven't turned your watch back. Still."
Merlin frowned down at his watch. Cross-checked it with his mobile. Gave it a betrayed scowl. And began to fiddle with the dials.
"Honestly, Merlin, sometimes I wonder why I keep you around."
"Your last PA made jokes about pens," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur shook his head. "I think I must just feel sorry for you."
Merlin gave him a deadpan look. "Pens."
Despite himself, Arthur laughed. Merlin was mostly useless at his job, but he came through when it counted, and he was brilliant at relieving tension. Sure, he did it by being an idiot, but whatever worked…This was Merlin's first Christmas season as Arthur's PA, and the blond was already starting to think it would be his least painful yet.
"Right, well, I'm stuck with you for a few more weeks, at least. Sacking not being in with the Christmas spirit and all that."
"Depends on what kind of sacking," Merlin leered, leaning in close.
Arthur leaned in as well. "And that would depend on your performance."
Smiling mischievously, Merlin handed him a thin stack of note cards. "Your speech, sir. Would you like to have a drink first or just dive right in?"
Sir? Arthur was immediately on his guard. Uncalled for adherence to Arthur’s authority was never a good thing. He didn't like the devilish look in his assistant's eye one bit either. Something unfortunate almost always happened to him when Merlin got that look. He wasn't sure if it was a testament to Merlin's blockishness that he was obvious enough that Arthur knew he was up to something; or to his cleverness, since Arthur invariably fell for his tomfoolery despite looking out for it.
Warily, he accepted the cards while giving Merlin a suspicious glare. The man just grinned wider at him. Arthur pursed his lips and waved his doubts away with his hand. Tonight was going to be awful no matter what anyway. "Let's just get this over with."
If possible, Merlin smiled wider. Wrong decision, Arthur thought to himself, but it was too late now. Merlin was already leading him along the conference table adorned with crock pots filled with things the staff had made for the party. Arthur stared longingly at a side table covered in every alcohol known to man. He could use a scotch.
"The speech is short, I hope?"
"Of course, sir. Short and sweet." Merlin seemed entirely too pleased with himself and Arthur cringed. Bad signs.
Merlin brought them to the front of the room where the projection screen would normally be. As it was, the screen was rolled up and a gaudy wreath, dripping with tinsel and tiny ornaments, hung in its place. A short mic and stand stood at the head of the table and Merlin swept an arm out dramatically to present it to him.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Get me a scotch, Merlin. And quit being so bloody cheerful."
"Right away, sir," he said cheekily. Div would probably bring him wine, or-God forbid-bitter.
Fortified with the knowledge that booze in some form was on its way, Arthur turned the mic on and tapped it a few times to test it was working. The room was silent but for the shuffling of feet and tinkling of ice in plastic cups. All eyes were on him, but he was used to that. He glanced down at his note cards and began.
"Welcome, everyone, to Pendragon Corp's 2011 Foreign Relations Office staff Christmas bash." Already Arthur had slipped into his calm, falsely jovial speech-voice. He'd given so many speeches he could glance at a few sentences written on the cards and say them expertly without even thinking about what he was saying. Thinking about it too much made him nervous, and that was the last thing he needed to be when making business proposals.
"Thank you all for coming. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves-you should be, considering how much booze you've got stashed back there." He smiled at his sorry excuse for a joke and there was a generous smattering of amused chuckles from the crowd in response.
"I don't want to keep you from the feast, but I just wanted to take a moment to remind us all what this time of year is really about. It's not about giving or receiving presents. It's not about decorating the tree or hanging lights around your home. It's not even about spending time with loved ones and cherishing your family. And it certainly isn't about the birth of Jesus Christ, as he wasn’t born anytime close to December. It's about celebrating the winter solstice and the resurrection of various ancient pagan su-" Arthur stopped short. Frowning, he looked more closely at the note cards Merlin had given him.
"Merlin!" he shouted, brandishing the cards at the man standing in the back of the room, trying to look innocent. "What is this rubbish? Pagan sun gods? Are you so incompetent that I can't even trust you to write a proper speech for a bloody office party?"
The room was silent for a moment in light of Arthur's outburst. He was furious. This sham of a party was already painful enough without the whole office thinking he was a pagan devil-worshipper.
"I don't know what you mean, sir. You asked me to write something exulting the true meaning of Christmas. Not wanting to disappoint, I researched it thoroughly. According to many reputable historians, it is the culmination of the Roman Catholic Church integrating many pagan customs into the Christian religion as a way to spread their influence over a wider range of people," Merlin said, clearly struggling not to burst out laughing. But it was a losing battle and soon enough he was shaking with mirth all over the mail delivery bloke-Gabe? Garett? Gwaine? Something like that...
"Merlin," he began, but the man cut him off.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Arthur," he said, making his way to the blond with a glass of liquid that was a promising amber color. "No one wants to hear your uninspired, horseshite speech that you didn't even write yourself-especially when they could be getting pissed and eating biscuits. And if I know you, you don't want to be giving it either, so have a drink," he handed Arthur the sweet, glorious scotch, "Have a bite to eat, and sing a bloody carol. These work things are only as painful as you make them."
Arthur took a fortifying gulp of scotch, downing half the glass, and contemplated Merlin. Would it gain him anything to fight? Probably not. Merlin had a way of deflecting Arthur’s wrath.
"Fine," he finally said, scowling in defeat, "But you are going to pay for this later."
"For what?" he asked, putting a friendly arm around Arthur's shoulders and grinning like the idiot he was. If people didn’t know any better, they’d probably think they were mates rather than executive and subordinate. They’d be right. "Showing you a good time? I'll be sure to allow you to wallow in your own self-induced misery next time."
Arthur grunted and finished off his drink. He handed the empty glass to Merlin. “Get me another. And make it a double.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. Arthur wasn’t much of a drinker; he had no tolerance. If he drank that much hard liquor that quickly, he’d be pissed up in no time.
Arthur smirked. “If I’m to sing carols, I’ll need to be fortified with spirits first.”
“Spirit of Christmas not good enough for you?”
“Not even close.”
Chuckling, his assistant went off to fetch more hooch.
--
Snow was brilliant. It was soft and fluffy, and kissed your cheeks when it landed on your face. It cooled your overheated, rat arsed body that felt like it was sweating buckets despite your lack of clothing. Not to mention it was beautiful. Arthur could’ve twirled in it all night but for Merlin’s incessant nattering.
“Come on, Arthur, quit dawdling. Got to get you home before you pass out in the road.” They’d regretfully left the party some time ago. Arthur had had more fun at the work function than he’d thought possible. Food and drink had been plentiful. The company surprisingly delightful. And the entertainment-by way of caroling drunkenly to each other at increasingly more ghastly and cacophonous levels as the alcohol flowed-had been both generous and spectacular.
He hadn’t wanted to leave, but around the time he fell over randomly, dragging two other people with him, Merlin had decided it was time to take him home.
“Merlin,” Arthur answered, leaning more heavily on the man than he knew, “I feel fine. I’m not going to pass out anywhere, so feel free to bugger off.”
Merlin grinned wickedly at him. “Oh, I intent to, sir.”
--
Arthur awoke wanting to die. Blearily, he fell-literally-out of bed and managed to stumble and half-crawl to the loo, where he relieved himself and seriously contemplated sicking up for a good half an hour before crawling back to bed, promising himself he’d never drink again.
The second time he woke up, it was to the soft sound of a familiar voice speaking quietly. He didn’t wake enough to understand what was being said, or who was saying it, but he hardly cared. It soothed him back to sleep again.
Third time’s the charm. He woke fully the next time to the magnificent feel of a mouth on his cock. He was sprawled out across his bed on his back, covered to his chest with his duvet. The owner of the glorious mouth lifted the duvet repeatedly as he bobbed over Arthur’s prick. The soft material slid up and down over his nipples, teasing them to hardness. Arthur was still a bit drowsy, but thankfully not desiring death anymore-just for that mouth to suck a little harder.
His hands, previously spread out around his head, snaked under the covers and into the short, cropped hair of his assistant. “Leave it to you, Merlin, to get me sloshed and then take advantage of me whilst I’m vulnerable,” he said offhandedly. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
He tugged the man’s head off his cock just enough to thrust up into it again. Merlin moaned and his hands slid down his hips to grip his thighs, not trying to hold him down, but just wanting to have something to hold onto. Arthur smiled at the implication of the movement: consent for more. He began to thrust up into the hot wetness of Merlin’s mouth as he pleased, holding his head firmly where he wanted it.
The sounds Merlin made when he sucked cock were incredible. Whimpers and mewls. Grunts and moans. The harsh intake and exhale of air through his nose. The wet, vulgar sounds of his throat and mouth working around his prick. Music to Arthur’s ears. Only thing better was the sight of him-slowly revealed by the duvet gradually slipping off with every push forward. His lips pink and swollen wrapped tight around him. His eyes closed as he concentrated on the feel. His nostrils flaring, struggling to breathe around Arthur’s onslaught. His arse clenching as he thrust in time with Arthur against the bed, desperate for friction.
Arthur screwed his eyes shut and came at the view. He thrust as deep as he could get and held Merlin there, forcing him to take everything. When he let go, Merlin jerked back and coughed a bit, but once he’d recovered, he turned his blue eyes on Arthur and crawled up his body.
Having never let go of his hair, Arthur pulled him closer, attacking his lips with his teeth. Merlin’s still hard cock slid against his thighs, slick with precum and Merlin’s excess saliva. The man started rutting against him frantically, moaning into Arthur’s mouth. His hands were everywhere: in Arthur’s hair, massaging his shoulders and arms, tickling his chest, rubbing his nipples with his sweaty palms. If he kept it up, Arthur might get hard again like some randy teenager.
Merlin came with a shout, lifting himself up with his hands on Arthur’s shoulders to better grind his hips down. Arthur could feel his release like a hot wave against his belly, smeared thoughtlessly between them when Merlin collapsed on top of him.
“So I guess this means I’m not sacked then?” Merlin said, rolling off him once they’d both recuperated somewhat.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Merlin. Your performance review has only just begun.”