Christmas Bonus
The last place he worked, Lindsey got a Christmas bonus of a few thousand bucks.
At Wolfram and Hart they were trying to be more creative, or at least that's what Holland told them at the corporate party, as he handed out small, gift-wrapped boxes to all the employees in his division. Lindsey vaguely hoped for a new hand, but the box contained only the keycard for a room at the Devonshire hotel.
The Devonshire was where the firm put their moderately important clients when they needed a bed for a night or two. It wasn't the finest or most expensive place in LA but it wasn't the worst by any means. Quite why he was getting a room there Lindsey wasn't sure, but he knew better than to take it at face value.
He noticed that other people had received equally cryptic objects: Lilah what looked like a jail pass, someone else a train ticket. Items which were, presumably, the means to whatever it was they were being given and not the gift itself.
"Each of you will receive something you truly desire, even if you would never admit that desire to anyone," Holland said, apparently in response to various bemused expressions. "Even yourself."
Not for the first time, Lindsey wondered just how much his bosses knew about what went on inside his head. The answer always seemed to be just a little too much.
After that, the party dispersed fairly quickly: partly because people were curious about their bonuses but mostly because everyone hated each other and had no interest in having any more social contact that was absolutely necessary.
Lindsey waited until a good few people had left -- he didn't want to be among the first to leave -- then after a few curt farewells he made his exit. The hotel was a few blocks away so he reached it fairly quickly, still unaware to guess why he was there.
He was nodded inside by the doorman and made his way to the elevators and from there to his room. He stood outside, flipping the card between his fingers, vaguely worried in case this was some cruel joke on the part of Holland and that death or humiliation awaited him on the other side of the door.
Then again, there didn't seem to be an audience, so he was probably safe. He swiped the card and a tiny green light flashed to indicate the door was unlocked. He turned the handle and entered.
The room was darker than the corridors, the lights dimmed so that at first he could see little. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and from what he could see there was nothing out of the ordinary. A bottle of champagne stood in a bucket of ice near a table, on which sat two empty flutes. There was an open door out onto a balcony, but the view was obscured by a curtain which flapped gently in the breeze.
Lindsey felt a little like he'd walked into the sex scene in an 80s Tom Cruise movie. Which was, he had to admit, the sort of thing that he'd have jerked off to when he was 15 -- but it was hardly his heart's desire.
The balcony seemed the next logical place to go, so he made his way there, pushing back the curtain. Standing with his back to Lindsey and looking out over the city, duster curling about his legs, was Angel. Lindsey froze.
"What the hell is this?!"
Angel turned, a slight smirk on his face. "Merry Christmas, Lindsey."
"What? Is this some sort of joke?"
The smirk faded and Angel shook his head. "No, no joke. I'm your Christmas bonus -- for one night only."
There was a silence, broken only by the roar of the city and the wail of distant sirens.
"I don't believe you," Lindsey said eventually. He didn't need to ask exactly what Angel meant; the set-up made that quite clear.
"I'm really not kidding."
"You have to be. This is just another way you've found to make me look like an idiot."
"Really, it's not."
"But -- why? Why would you do this?"
"That's between me and Wolfram and Hart. And I like short guys."
Lindsey laughed a little. "You have your reasons, huh? Okay, fine. But what the hell made you or them think that you are what I want for Christmas?"
A shrug. "Don't ask me, it was their idea. Have they made a mistake?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Who's in control."
"Oh, you are. Unless you want me to be dominant, of course. Whatever floats your boat."
"No, no. I want to be in control."
"Figures. I mean, it's not like you'll ever get another chance."
Lindsey laughed again. "Yeah? One day the Senior Partners are going to decide that you need to be brought into line, and when they do you'll be Holland's butt monkey, Lilah's butt monkey and most especially my butt monkey."
"Should I take that to mean you did ask Santa Manners to bring you my ass?"
Lindsey hadn't actually asked, of course. He hadn't even consciously considered it. But now he was in the position, he couldn't imagine anything he'd want more, except maybe a new hand. And as that didn't seem to be available...
"Strip."
Angel paused, and Lindsey's stomach tightened. He could just hear Lilah's mocking laugh. For a moment there he really had believed that --
But then the duster was shrugged off, and it slid to the floor. Angel looked straight at Lindsey, dark eyes glittering, and started to unbutton his shirt, a coal-black silk number that was stretched tight across his chest. Lindsey felt himself start to get hard, a sort of adolescent erection, hot and heavy, urgent like this was his first time.
The shirt joined the duster on the balcony floor, and up close Angel's skin was smoother than he could have imagined, seemingly untouched despite all the injuries he knew Angel had suffered. Shoes and socks were kicked off, then Angel undid his belt, letting it hang loose in the loops. He opened his pants and let them fall to his ankles, all the while still staring straight at Lindsey.
He paused again before the last item of clothing, pushing out his hips a little, and Lindsey almost reached forward to pull them down himself, fingers curling into fists at his sides. Then Angel hooked his thumbs in the waistband and tugged down.
Lindsey's breath hitched in his throat. Angel was large and he was uncut, something Lindsey had never seen in the flesh, so to speak.
"Fuck, this ain't a joke."
"Told you." Angel stepped out of his clothes, and took a pace forward so he was just inches away from Lindsey. If he'd had any body heat Lindsey would've felt it. "What next... sir?"
Lindsey's skin prickled when Angel said that last word, and his breathing got fast and shallow. With a groan he reached up and grabbed Angel's head with his plastic hand, pushing it towards him and smashing their mouths together, whilst his good hand grabbed a handful of Angel's ass hard and rough. They macked for several minutes, Lindsey grinding himself against Angel's naked body, nails scoring streaks on the alabaster skin.
Then he pulled away and placed his hands on Angel's shoulders, shoving him downwards. Angel sank to his knees and looked up at Lindsey from waist-level. "Suck me."
Angel hauled down Lindsey's slacks and boxers and grabbed his cock, jacking it a couple of times before licking the head with one, long, slow movement that made Lindsey's knees buckle. Then he swallowed Lindsey whole, untroubled by gag reflex or the need to breathe, and began to blow Lindsey good.
Lindsey took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie but otherwise remained clothed, because it gave him a kick he couldn't explain. But then everything about this was giving him that kick: he looked down at Angel, naked, lips fastened around his cock, on his knees, submissive, and, Christ, he nearly came there and then.
"Stop," he said, voice ragged.
Angel pulled off, leaving glistening flesh in his wake, feral eyes looking up at Lindsey.
"I need to fuck you. In the bedroom. Right fucking now."
That got a simple nod from Angel, who got to his feet and went inside. "There's lubrication on the nightstand," he said, adding, "sir," as if it were an afterthought.
Lindsey followed him in, hauling off the rest of his clothes, because for this he needed to be naked too.
"You've got ten seconds to get ready."
Once Angel prepared himself, Lindsey had him bend over the bed. He ran his good hand over Angel's back, rubbing the skin, letting his dick brush Angel's ass. "You ever been fucked before?"
There was a soft snort. "No, Lindsey. You're my first, honest."
Lindsey gave Angel a spank for that, red handprint suddenly visible on one buttock.
"I've been getting fucked since the eighteenth century. Not so much recently."
"Then you ought to be good at it."
Lindsey pushed himself inside in one stroke, grinning as he heard Angel hiss in pain. He started slow but built up a staccato rhythm, finally reaching a crescendo that had both making guttural moans and curses until finally Lindsey exploded, eyes screwed shut, stars dancing in front of him.
"For a guy with a few centuries of experience, you're not bad." Lindsey disengaged and walked over to the champagne, still waiting in its bucket. "I could do with a drink."
Angel rolled over onto his back but said nothing.
Lindsey peeled off the foil and started to untwist the wire on the bottle. "So do I have you all night?"
"I need to get back to the Hyperion before sunrise, but apart from that -- yeah."
The cork popped and champagne bubbled over, running down the bottle and over Lindsey's fingers. "Good, because I'm not done yet."
Angel smiled, just a little. "No, I didn't think you were."
On Christmas Day, a letter for Angel was delivered to the Hyperion by courier. Cordelia collected it and took it to her boss.
"Okay, who's sending you anything? We all gave you your presents and I don't know of anybody else who'd bother."
Angel just took the envelope from her and opened it. It contained one sheet of expensive, cream-coloured paper and one sheet of ordinary white paper. On the expensive paper, written in neat, crisp handwriting, were the words, "For services rendered. Many thanks, HM."
On the cheap paper there was a typed letter that confirmed that Cordelia had an audition for the female lead in the new Bruckheimer movie, "Pearl Harbor."
After she'd finished hyperventilating, Cordelia managed to ask, "what did you do to get me this?!"
Angel shrugged. "Uh. Nothing, not really. Apparently they think someone with your talent would be perfect for it."
"Oh my God! This is so cool! Hey, what would you have to do to actually get me the part?"
For just a moment, Angel considered being Holland's butt monkey for a night. He shuddered.
"I think I've taken you as far as I can."
"Well, it'll do. Really. Oh, wow. Thank you so much, Angel."
She leaned in and gave him a kiss on his cheek, then bounced out of the room so she could find Wesley and tell him.
And Angel just stood there.
The things you did for your Christmas bonus…