Work Text:
Milchick sat in a small, dimly lit room. He was sitting on a white couch with red velvet curtains framing it. They looked heavy. Behind them was a plain white wall, expertly painted without any streaks or overlayered bumps. It was if it’d all been painted in one brilliant stroke.
Milchick watched Mark who was standing with his back against the door. He was only three or four steps away from the couch and Milchick. It was a very small room. There was a plant hanging from the ceiling which began swaying when Mark closed the door and periodically obscured one man’s face from another - though Mark got the impression that Milchick could see him anyway. He got the impression that Milchick could see through walls.
“I have to say, I was surprised by your request, Mark.” Milchick said. He didn’t move when he spoke. He kept sitting ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap, knees together. There was a smile in his tone that might have put Mark at ease if his words hadn’t been so…he didn’t know the word. Vague? Unsure? They weren’t necessarily negative but Lumon didn’t like surprises as a rule. Cobel had told him so when he tried to surprise her with a gift. She’d stared down at the snack he’d brought her then slowly looked up, eyes boring into him like a dull drill.
“Eat it.” She’d demanded, voice soft but forceful enough that it sent Mark’s hand up to the bag right away. Milchick was standing behind her, looking at the wall beside Mark’s head. Mark glanced at him but Cobel moved so that she blocked his view. “Now.”
He’d eaten the bag though his stomach felt tight with anxiety and when he was done Cobel had told him that her mother was an atheist but she knew good and evil when she saw it. Then she’d told him that a gift so easily rescinded wasn’t a gift worth giving. Then she’d told him to get out.
“Uh…yeah. I’m surprised you granted it.” Mark said.
“You’re a hard worker, Mark.” Milchick said and it reminded Mark of Ms. Casey and the conversation he’d had once with Dylan where he’d declared that both were hot (“In a robotic death cult kinda way”) and that it maybe had something to do with their honorifics.
“Next time I get to request something it’s gonna be that everyone has to call me Mr.Dylan.”
“You can’t do that. Peter? He can’t do that.”
“Mr.Dylan can do as he pleases.”
“Hell yeah, you heard him Irving! Suck it.”
“I’m not listening to any of you.”
Mark hadn’t said it to Dylan but he thought it was something in the way they…moved. Milchick and Casey. The way they spoke…
It was different from anyone else. Milchick in the blinding bright hall and Casey in the dark with the heavy smelling plants and her soft voice slowly telling him things, all kind, always kind - and then the swift reprimand if he interrupted. Mark wouldn’t ever tell anyone this but sometimes he reacted on purpose, just once or twice, not enough to end the session but enough to get her to scold him. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was rebellious. He didn’t dare do anything like that with Milchick.
“Are you going to stand over there the whole time?” Milchick asked and Mark took a step closer. Milchick waited, then laughed. “Mark…” He said, a teasing little reprimand. The vocal equivalent of a waggling finger.
Milchick was bright. In a way that could be fun or ruthless. He was efficient, always there, always watching with a smile. Dylan had called Mark a suckup once.
“What, are you gonna tell mommy?”
“Mommy?” Mark asked.
“Mommy Milchick?” Petey added on, smiling.
“What? Dude. I’m not…I’m just saying that Milchick might not like-”
“Milchick doesn’t like most things that aren’t work. Except his precious little angel Mark.” Dylan said, making kissing noises.
Petey had laughed and smoothly directed the conversation elsewhere but the comment had stuck with Mark. He wasn’t a suckup…Irving was a suckup. He just…didn’t want to break the rules. And who cared if Milchick liked him? He wasn’t even sure he did. Milchick was nice to everyone, even Dylan, even when he made fun of him.
But…the thought of Milchick…
He pictured Milchick holding him close and kissing him. He’d seen kissing in pictures. It was in their Inappropriate Workplace Contact instruction manual. It also contained depictions of sexual acts with bright red x’s through them. At the end were pictures of people hugging for a few seconds and giving handshakes and staring into each other’s eyes with green check marks next to them.
Dylan said he’d gotten a kiss during a waffle party once.
Mark wanted to be kissed. He was sure he’d been - or, his innie had been. But…
“It’s alright, Mark. I didn’t think you were so shy!” Milchick said, taking Mark’s hand and pulling him closer. Mark’s heart was beating hard against his chest.
“Uh…I’m not usually.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just…I didn’t think you’d really do this for me.”
“You wanted something and you earned it. That’s admirable. It’s something that he would have been very proud of you for.” Milchick said, nodding towards the door. Above it hung a proud portrait of Kier with an arm around his wife. They were both smiling, their eyes aimed towards the couch. Mark found it unsettling but Milchick looked to be in awe.
“That initiative…” He said, voice reverently soft. His hand ran down Mark’s leg but his eyes, aimed at the portrait, didn’t stray. “...Is something we all love to see at Lumon. Why wouldn’t it be rewarded?”
Mark began to say something but stopped when Milchick unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it from the base to the quickly reddening head. Mark couldn’t help the moan of surprise this pulled from him and Milchick paused.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t properly prepare you.” He grabbed a small see-through vial in the shape of the Lumon logo and poured whatever was in it over his hands, rubbing them together. He smiled at Mark. “This will make sure things go smoothly. Can I start again?”
“Y-Yeah. Yeah, go for it.”
“Fantastic!” Milchick said, beginning to jerk Mark off again. His hands were so soft and his movements weren’t the least bit hesitant. He was sure of what he was doing in contrast to Mark and Mark was eternally grateful for it. If it were up to him to take the initiative he was sure he’d still be standing by the door.
“This lube is a special product that Lumon is considering rolling out in one of its offshoot branches. It lubricates without an unpleasant, tacky residue left behind on the skin and its color doesn’t stain, unlike the current leading brand.” Milchick told him in his pleasant, professional tone. Mark could tell he was looking at him but he didn’t know why. He was sure he looked awful right now.
Mark’s legs were shaking and he felt like he could collapse at any minute. A wet, rhythmic sound filled the small space and his heart pounded as pleasure the likes of which he’d never thought possible ran through him.
“Wow that’s…wow…” Mark breathed, looking down at Milchick and trying not to feel Kier’s eyes on his back. “That’s…fuck, that’s amazing.” He was talking about Milchick more than the lube, though. How Milchick made him feel...was making him feel.
Milchick smiled, letting go. “Isn’t it?” He asked admiringly. He glanced at his hand and pressed his fingers together before slowly moving then apart, watching the webs of cum and lube thread them together before breaking into air.
Mark winced, breathless. “Sorry.” He said, hoping Milchick would continue. He didn’t know why he’d stopped. Had he not been reverent enough?
“If Cobel were here she’d get angry at you. She doesn’t like when people apologize for things they didn’t do.” Milchick said conversationally, bringing one of his fingers to his mouth and tasting it.
Mark hesitated, not sure what to say. “She…gets angry a lot. At me.”
“Well, you anger her.” Milchick said. “It’s just what you do, there’s no shame in it. We’re all different things to different people.” He blinked and smiled. “What’s most important isn’t all that. Let me tell you something, Mark, about the outside world.”
Milchick’s manner suddenly switched…off. Which wasn’t unheard of. Sometimes near the end of a work day Mark could catch him off guard, staring into space or listening to their conversations with blank eyes and an expression that was almost troubled.
“It’s a very cold, cruel place. Unruly. Out there people just…run around…like starved ants - and they are starved. Searching. Skittering around in the dark.” Milchick closed his eyes. “I used to be like that when I was small…then I discovered Lumon and with it I was bright. I was imbued by Kier’s vision, his light.” Milchick leaned heavily to one side, pressing his cheek against the couch. Mark worried that something was wrong with him but he continued speaking after a few seconds.
“People out there are jealous, evil things. I know because I used to be like that. Caring what others thought of me, hating other people because of silly things like how much they had or how they moved or…a Christmas tree displayed in their window. It was like that tree was taunting me, Mark. Do you understand?”
Mark didn’t, not really. He only knew about Christmas because Milchick came in once a year and declared that they’d be celebrating it, handing out two presents for each of them - one for them and one for someone else of their choosing.
Mark thought about Milchick as a child (which he'd only seen in artistic depictions, angelic little people), staring into a window with a tree inside it. A beautiful tree. One with flashing bulbs and stars on it. Milchick always said the world outside was cold and Mark had taken it literally without meaning to - so he imagined it to be cold, snowing like in the globe Irving had given to him on Christmas.
Mark didn’t like the outside world. Whenever Milchick spoke about it he darkened.
“Yeah…like um, sometimes when Dylan brags about all his rewards I get a little jealous too. Don’t worry.”
“Yes!” Milchick said, grabbing Mark’s wrist and nodding and it was beautiful - like they were actually talking, actually understanding one another. “It is exactly like that, Mark. But when you feel that way you don’t just sit around feeling sorry for yourself, you act, you earn. That’s Lumon’s beauty, Kier’s vision…it’s remarkable.”
Mark wondered if Milchick had a house with people he loved inside. It didn’t seem like it. Mark wondered if he did.
He pictured a house with Milchick and him and a tree between them. A Christmas tree. He’d keep it all year round if it made Milchick happy.
“I like you, Mark,” Milchick said and it wasn’t a dream this time - it wasn’t something he was imagining alone at his desk or locked in the bathroom stall. It was real real real and Milchick’s hands had started to pump Mark’s cock to life again and they were so warm.
“You know when to have a good time and when to bunker down.” Milchick continued, eyes lowering to Mark’s newly erect cock. “If anyone were to request this I’m glad it was you. Dylan is a bit….immature.”
Mark almost asked about Irving but then guessed that Irving would probably never even dream of requesting such a thing. Because he wasn’t a pervert. Mark felt his face heat up as he stuttered. “Even Petey?”
Milchick blinked and tilted his head, smiling. “Peter K? He’s a bit of a troublemaker. But oh, listen to me! I like everyone very much.”
“But…not as much as me?” Mark asked, hopeful. For some reason it was very important to him. He remembered Dylan’s taunting.
“Milchick’s precious little angel…”
Milchick smiled but didn’t reply, instead pressing Mark’s cock against his soft cheek. “May I?”
“...May you..?” Mark asked, confused.
Milchick laughed. “Perform fellatio. As you requested.”
Mark wracked his brain trying to remember what he’d written on the card. He didn’t recall asking for that - it seemed…so much more intimate than a hand.
“I was a tad taken aback by that as well…your wording was rather…” Milchick paused. “Forceful.”
Mark suddenly knew exactly the words that’d been written on the card. Not by him, but by Dylan. It was something he’d been talking with Peter about doing as a prank for a while - but it was always to Irving because everyone knew Irving would never write something like that.
Blow Me!
Mark’s face reddened. “Uh…I just…Sorry…”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Milchick said, cupping the head of Mark’s cock and rubbing his thumb against the slit there. Mark thrust his hips forward, leaving a wet streak on Milchick’s skin. Milchick closed an eye.
“Sorry!”
“I won’t tell.” Milchick said, smiling so the involuntary movement looked like a wink. Mark suddenly didn’t care that it had been meant to be a prank. All thoughts of explaining that flew out the window. He didn’t care if Milchick thought he was a pervert or forceful - it didn’t matter. He had earned a reward, hadn’t he? He’d earned it.
“Do it...please. Please.” Mark nearly whispered, bucking his hips again.
Milchick hummed and turned his head, pressing a series of chaste kisses to Mark’s shaft, slowly making his way up to the head. He swiped his tongue along the slit and brought it into his mouth like he was considering the taste. He didn’t express an opinion on it, merely swallowing.
“This is my first time doing something like this, so I hope you’ll forgive any mistakes on my end.”
Mark blinked, shocked. “What? This is your first-?” Mark wracked his brain. It suddenly seemed…wrong for Milchick to do this for Mark. First times were supposed to be special, weren’t they? With someone you loved? He’d heard that somewhere. “You don’t have to-”
“Hey,” Milchick said, voice soft and encouraging. “You deserve this.” He assured him.
Mark nodded and Milchick leaned in, kissing Mark’s head yet again. “Besides…it’s an honor to give anything I can in service of Lumon.”
Before Mark could respond to that Milchick’s mouth was on him and his mind went blank.
It was slow at first with Milchick coming up for air a lot, ignoring Mark’s flustered questions of ‘are you alright?’ and ‘do you need a break?’ Then after a few minutes he made it down to the very base of Mark’s cock and Mark felt as if the inside of his skull was sparking. Whatever invisible lines his thoughts traveled along were unraveling into a tangled mess.
He didn’t realize he was coming until Milchick made a strangled noise and moved back, only to get sprayed in the face. Mark apologized as coherently as he could which wasn’t very, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing onto it as he rode out the rest of his orgasm.
After a few seconds Mark sagged with relief, dazed as pleasure ran passively through his body. He began to speak, wanting to tell Milchick how amazing that had been but was interrupted by a hand on his hip, then the familiar sensation of Milchick’s mouth on him.
“Mr. Milchick-?” Mark asked, cock immediately hardening again as his brain went fuzzy.
Milchick didn’t reply, bobbing on Mark’s cock. New sounds filled the room as he did. Wet sounds that sent warm electricity down Mark’s groin, arousing him to a state of near madness. A song his playing, he thinks. He thinks it's something that means something to Milchick, a warning or a reminder because he suddenly goes faster and the sounds get louder too. Mark could barely believe the sight - Milchick between his legs, his lips wrapped around him, eyes shut in focus or maybe pleasure (he can imagine that, right? It's fine. He can imagine that.)
Mark remembered the white turtleneck Milchick wears sometimes. The way his chest isn’t completely flat under there. There’s a swell that Mark stares at whenever he can and he wishes he could touch it like he wishes he could lay a hand on his ass sometimes - that fucking perfect ass. He stares at it when Milchick is taking them somewhere, explaining something or (more likely) humoring Irving’s eager chatter about whatever outing they’re going on. Milchick’s clothing is always perfectly form-fitting. Not enough to distract anyone but Mark.
And that man’s mouth was on him. That man’s face was decorated with his cum.
Mark moaned and his hand shot out on his own, grabbing Milchick’s head and forcing him down as he comes, he didn't want to lose it - that fucking heat and Milchick doesn’t push against him, just makes a strangled little noise then sighs, going quiet.
Mark held him there for several seconds, hips bucking autonomously and mind a haze of pleasurable fog…then he remembers and lets go. “Oh- Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
Milchick moved off of Mark’s cock slowly, disengaging with a wet ‘pop’ as he kept the suction up. He made a choked noise and Mark could see a bubble of ejaculate appear and disappear on his lips, running down his chin. Milchick moved to the side and coughed, spitting into a tissue. Mark apologized again but Milchick held up a finger and he quieted again.
“Do…should I-?” Mark asked, gesturing towards Milchick’s own groin. He wonders what his cock looks like.
“Oh, no time for that!” Milchick said. His voice was raw from what they’d just done and Mark was afraid he’d hurt him. But he was smiling still so it couldn’t be that bad, right? He hoped. “You have to be heading out of here in a minute forty five.”
“Um, then - one more thing? Just…”
Milchick looked at him for a few seconds as Mark thought what he was going to ask over.
“One minute thirty.” Milchick reminded him.
“A kiss. Um…” He suddenly remembered Milchick saying it was his first time earlier - maybe he just meant first time with a man or doing that particular thing but he didn’t want to take a first kiss either. It seemed silly to think that Milchick might not have kissed someone before due to his age which was younger than him but not young really. Everyone in microdata and refinement agreed that they’d all probably been kissed before, even if they couldn’t remember it, it just made sense.
But if Milchick hadn’t he didn’t want it to be like, an order or anything.
So he tapped his forehead. “Here, maybe?”
Milchick blinked, obviously surprised by the request. Mark counted down in his head. A minute twenty. A minute ten. Fifty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten-
Milchick stood and kissed Mark’s forehead tenderly, as if he had something miraculous hidden within it. If he kissed him for real, Mark thought, he'd be able to taste himself. Milchick would be tasting him for...how long? Did he have a toothbrush at work? Would go home with Mark's taste in his mouth?
Then the lights brightened.
“Ah, we’ve reached an end to our time. I hope your reward was satisfactorily administered?” Milchick asked, straightening up.
Mark blinked. “Hm? Oh. Oh yeah you did great.”
“Excellent! Buh-bye now.”
“Yeah, uh-” Mark stood, hurriedly pulling on his pants. “B-...Buh-bye!” He repeated though he felt unbelievably silly doing it. He waved and Milchick didn’t wave back, preoccupied with wiping his face off.
Mark shut the door and leaned against it, heart pounding. Then he hurried off to the bathroom to clean up. Then he went to the elevators. And when he woke up again he stepped off the elevator he didn’t ever remember leaving and walked into the office again.
“So, how was your meeting with Milchick?” Petey asked, teasing.
Mark hit Dylan’s shoulder.
“Ow! What gives? Did you get bit?” Dylan asked, wielding a stapler.
“No! You- What do you mean bit?”
“Don’t get him started again.” Irving groaned.
“I’m with Irv on this one.” Petey agreed.
“No one here’s gonna be all ‘let’s not listen to Dylan’ when you’re all bit.” Dylan said.
“Ok, whatever. You! Wrote ‘blow me’ on my reward ticket!”
Dylan snickered and Petey grinned, the two high fiving one another. “Yeah.”
“So? How mad was he?”
“Did he get all scary-quiet like he does?” Dylan asked, then he sobered a bit, looking worried. “You…didn’t get in trouble right?”
Mark considered pretending like he did just to see the two of them squirm a little but instead he shook his head, falling back into his chair. “Nope. But it was embarrassing as hell.”
“You should be used to getting embarrassed by me.” Dylan said, chipper again after hearing that Mark was alright. “‘Cause I’m gonna blow you chumps out of the water this quarter.”
The rest of them continued on joking and laughing with one another and Mark smiled, glad for the normalcy. Then he got back to work, something drumming in the back of his skull as he slowly faded out of the workplace chatter and into that dim little room and the noises and the wet heat and his fingers on the keys, his fingers in Milchick’s hair - and he knew he had to work hard.
It’s what you had to do, to be rewarded.