Watershed (Michael/Lincoln, NC-17)

[callmetofu]

Title: Watershed
Author: callmetofu
Pairing/Characters: Michael/Lincoln, LJ
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Brotherslash, happy ending;
Disclaimer: Not mine
Beta:The amazing and tireless deadbeat_nymph
Summary: After saving LJ from the hands of the company, Michael, Lincoln and LJ are on the run, but finding peace isn't as easy as it might seem.
Author's Note: I really challenged myself to write something with a happy ending for once. I hope I succeeded.


Six months, two weeks and three days.

Six months, two weeks an three days they had been on their new vessel, crossing up and down the east side of South America. It was the more run down, lower version of the dream Michael had wanted, but they were holding on.

It had been their hardest decision to make and the most vicious fight Michael could remember. Back then Michael had still been raw and broken, the betrayals and disappointments of the Company still fresh in his mind.

In the end, they had made their decision, for LJ, of course.

However, back then they had fought like dogs. Michael unwilling to give up the desire to keep fighting. Lincoln insisting that now LJ's future was worth fighting for. They both had been right. Only then the wounds were still too fresh and Michael had needed it, had needed to embrace the pain and hate if only to feel alive.

By now he couldn't even remember what they had said, only that it had been vicious and unforgiving. They'd both known that this fight could have the power to tear them, the three of them, apart for good. Their problem wasn't that they couldn't understand each other. Rather they understood each other's position too well. There was no black and white. Two equally important desires, mutually exclusive. The two of them caught in an unsolvable deadlock spinning towards their breaking point.

Michael could feel his own desperation. There was no way out, at least none that he could discern. He was breaking his own heart, but he just couldn't bring himself to back down. Then everything had changed. In the instant where the pressure had reached its peak Lincoln had grabbed him and thrown him against the paneled wall of their cabin, roughly crushing his mouth to Michael's. A moment later they'd been clawing at each other's clothes like rabid animals and even in just this split second Michael had known that he couldn't deny this. It was the only possible alternative if they didn't want to tear each other apart.

They had left port the very same day.

After that they settled in an odd routine. Sex without love and love without sex, both of which they hid quickly around LJ. All their attention was lavished on the boy and it was the right decision. LJ needed them. The kid was still trapped between the horrors he had seen and the nagging fear that he hadn't done enough.

Together they worked hard to be there for LJ each moment, to make him feel loved, using it as an excuse to deal with their own pains. They walked every painstaking step towards recovery with LJ, overcame every setback, took on each obstacle.

"I couldn't do it without you," Lincoln said. "If you weren't with us, you know that he'd always blame himself."

They found LJ schools, a new one every time LJ unraveled because he couldn't take the closeness anymore. They switched countries, running in a new harbor, making the boat their new home there. They never talked about getting a more permanent place and Michael was oddly grateful because he knew that deep at heart he wasn't ready for it yet. He needed the boat, the promise of instant flight it carried, the lack of stability that mirrored what was going on inside all of them.

"Too much has happened," Lincoln said and Michael was poised to agree.

Every once in a while their routine was interrupted, a phone call, an encrypted email, a secret tip off. Michael knew that Lincoln's heart broke a little every time they left LJ behind to meet some mysterious contact on shore. And still Lincoln refused to let him go alone. In turn Michael's heart broke a little with every new frustration. He kept in contact with people inside the US, ambitious journalists, conspiracy nuts and other interested parties, unable to do too much, unable to reveal too much about himself, yet still witness to each new failed attempt to rout out the conspiracy.

"Have a beer," Lincoln said and they clinked their bottles together, staring out into the ocean.

The boat was so small there was no way to avoid each other, but the worst part was that he could feel Lincoln's guilt. Michael wasn't much of an expert in reading people's reactions, but in this case Lincoln was so transparent it made Michael's teeth ache. They never talked about it. Instead Lincoln started leaving little tokens of affection. Clumsy attempts to be nice. A book he thought Michael might like, some useless trinket he had picked up at the market... Michael couldn't deal with it just yet. Every time he found one he forced himself to throw it out. Then he found Lincoln, picked a fight. They argued, then fucked. It was the only way Michael knew how to repay his brother.

Still, it was unsettling to find himself trapped in the role of a pouting Veronica or any of the other girlfriends that had been the object of Lincoln's attempts at contrition. He had seen this song and dance before so many times as a visiting party and now he was here, squat in the middle of it. It made him feel like running.

Only something had changed.

Six months, two weeks and three days.

Six months, two weeks and three days and now LJ was nearing the end of his second month at Saint Paul's School in São Paulo. Six months, two weeks and three days and for the first time it looked like LJ was about to let people get close to him again.

Six months, two weeks and three days and suddenly it no longer felt so hard to breathe.

Six months, two weeks and three days and things so long kept under wraps could no longer remain unspoken.

"There's something I need to talk to you about. Meet you up on deck?" he asked. Lincoln nodded, but not before shooting him one of those confused sideways looks.

They were alone, the boat all to themselves. At first, they had taken to camping out there when LJ was at school, on a bench in front of the building, reading, doing crossword puzzles, just staying visible so LJ could see them every time he looked out of the window. They still drove him there and picked him up every day and LJ still called them on his cellphone in the break between lessons.

Just to "chat" of course.

Whatever it was, it was a step towards... something.

Nervously Michael threw a selection of fruit into a bowl and made his way upstairs.

He found Lincoln stretched out on the U-shaped dinette on deck, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. When he heard Michael approach, he took his feet off the sofa hurriedly and sat up straight.

"We need to talk," Michael said and sat the bowl down with a clank. He dropped down on the stool and quietly placed his hands on the table.

"So, I guess you want to end it," Lincoln said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"No," Michael said and reached for Lincoln's hands. "No, that's not what I want to do."

Many options of what he could say shot through his mind. I've come to tell you that whatever this is, I don't want it to end yet.

I'm ready.

Maybe it's time we tried having sex with each other without yelling at each other first.
Instead he kept holding on to Lincoln's hands, tightly clasping them in his.

They didn't say anything for a long time. Michael could feel the sun burning on the back of his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt, warming him, the soft sway of the ship and the feel of Lincoln's hands holding him steady.

It wasn't till his cheeks began to ache that he realized that he'd been smiling.

*

He led Lincoln down to their quarters. Inside, hidden away from the world they touched tentatively as if they both felt that the developments between them were still fragile. Lincoln's hand cradled Michael's neck while he rained soft butterfly kisses along the side of Michael's face. Michael's breath grew shallow. It was almost too much, the proximity, the tenderness, the scent of their bodies pressing against each other. He winced when Lincoln reached down and pulled at the rim of Michael's shirt, running his hand up the freshly revealed flesh of Michael's stomach.

"You know, you don't have to do this," Lincoln said, momentarily freezing in his exploration.

Suddenly feeling very small, Michael shook his head. "No, it's just new."

It felt like a stupid thing to say and to divert attention he rubbed his crotch up against Lincoln's. Before it had never mattered. Urgency and passion, the sharp ripping of clothes had properly distracted him from remembering that he still didn't feel comfortable in his own skin. The tattoo that had started out as an object of pride, pride in himself, in his devotion and in the plan it represented, had become a mark on his body. Every line of ink now represented the ones fallen along the way and he now hid it meticulously under high collared, long sleeved shirts.

"You still think it feels like betrayal."

Michael halted his gyrations. "I guess so," he admitted. He ran his hands up Lincoln's broad back. The sex was not the problem; it was the tenderness. "I guess when I pictured myself being like this, I thought it would be with..." Six months, two weeks and three days and it still made his eyes water to think about it. "Somebody else."

"Disappointed?" Lincoln's voice rasped right next to Michael's ear.

"I don't think I realized this was even an option before." He looked away again. "At least not like this." It was as diplomatic an answer as he could muster.

He shook his head as if to shake off a bad dream. In truth, he had enjoyed inviting Lincoln into his body, even long before it was supposed to feel good. And he wasn't just here for the sex. Something had happened in the meantime, a slow growing together, a promise of peace that Michael couldn't bear the responsibility of leaving unexplored. "I want this," he said decidedly.

Lincoln slipped his hands around Michael's waist and pulled him close. "Let's take it slow then."

"Sounds good to me." Michael groaned and buried his face in the crook of Lincoln's neck. "Just," he placed one palm against Lincoln's chest. "Mind the shirt, okay?"

*

It turned out to be both better and worse than he'd expected. He'd worried that there might be thunder and fireworks and wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it. Instead it was tentative, fumbling, almost awkward. They explored each other, slowly, lightly, like it was a first time, gaining intensity to that one perfect convergence.

"We should go and see LJ," he said afterwards, his head resting on Lincoln's shoulder. "It's been a while."

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah," Michael said and sat up. "I'd like that."

He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, letting them dangle for a moment. He bent down to search for his shoes, which Lincoln had pulled off his feet and then thrown down carelessly. Behind him Lincoln struggled up beside him with a tired grunt. Their hands bumped into each other as they reached down trying to sort out their clothes.

Somehow it still felt wrong. Like it wasn't supposed to be like this. Like Lincoln had stolen a happy ending that wasn't meant for him.

No, he couldn't think like that. Still, a small shiver ran down his spine, as he picked a fresh shirt from his section of the closet.

"I call shower."

"Yeah, yeah."

*

They took their usual rental car, a Cherokee XJ. Naturally Lincoln had gravitated immediately towards the bulkiest car the dealership had available. It was a thirty minute drive to São Paulo. Taking and picking up LJ there every day they now knew the route by heart.

"Yeah, it's us. - No, it's nothing. Just checking on you." Lincoln threw the mobile phone back on the dashboard and shot Michael a grin. He turned to Michael. “You got something on your cheek.” He reached over, running his thumb over Michael's face, resting for a moment right next to lips.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Michael started.

"Doing what?"

"That thing. When you have me suck your fingers during..." Michael trailed off.

"I like putting things in your mouth." With one hand Lincoln slipped his sun glasses on. "After all, I can't be in two places at once."

Michael rolled his eyes and reached for his Ray-Bans inside the glove compartment. He could feel himself getting flushed. If this new phase of their relationship meant that they could now talk that freely about that he wasn't sure he liked it.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the compound. Michael checked his watch.

"Lesson should be over in eight minutes. Let's wait for him at the door."

They crossed the pebbled yard till they had reached the shade of the classic white building. It had been communicated to them that going inside was inappropriate and so they waited next to the large entry door. Smoothing out the lapel of his jacket, Lincoln then reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He began rolling it between his fingers till the paper peeled off and let the tobacco trickle to the floor.

"Want one?"

Michael shook his head. They both had decided to quit together a while ago, both being irregular smokers at best, but this was Lincoln's way of dealing with it.

"Fuck," Lincoln whispered, thumping the back of his head against the cool mural. "Who would have thought that a son of mine would one day go to a school like this."

They lingered quietly until the harsh sound of the electronic bell sounded. Half a minute later the door was unlocked from the inside and ruffled, eager LJ emerged, accompanied by nun, a stern looking woman, probably in her thirties.

"Hey, buddy," Michael said and, after looking around suspiciously to see if any of his new friends could see them, LJ allowed himself to get pulled into a one armed hug.

"So, what are you guys doing here?" LJ's eyes widened slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I told you," Lincoln assured him. "We just thought we should come by. It's been a while. Just forget we're here." Affectionately he ruffled through his son's hair. "We just wanted to let you know that we'll be around."

LJ stared at them for a moment with his mouth half open, then nodded. "Now, go inside and be with your friends," Lincoln chided and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. LJ grinned. A strand of his too long hair fell into his eyes and he shook his head to get it out. He caught Lincoln's hand for a playful ghetto handshake, turned on his heel and rushed back in.

"He seems happy," Lincoln said.

Michael nodded. They walked to the back side of the building. Michael spread out their picnic blanket on the finely trimmed lawn. They stretched out next to each other. Lincoln had brought some worn, dog-eared Clive Cussler and, resting on his back, his jacket rolled up under his head, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, he was asleep within minutes.

Michael smiled to himself and pulled out his bound Sudoku collection.

The first two weeks they had been here daily. They had asked for LJ to always have a seat next to a window so whenever he felt worried he could just look outside and see them, camped out there on a bench or on a blanket, just sitting reading, waiting, watching over him. They had a lesson plan and switched sides whenever LJ had to be in a different part of the building.

They gave LJ a hand-held mirror so whenever the sun shone into his classroom he could send them a sign that he was okay without disturbing the other students.

In the third week Lincoln bought LJ a pager, so he would have to hit only one button and the corresponding piece on Lincoln's belt would start to vibrate. Around that time they began to take short excursions, leaving LJ out of their sight for short periods, just to go for a walk or drive down to the food stands for salgadinhos.

It made Lincoln uneasy that he would be far away enough to not to be around the corner at the first sight of trouble and so he made a point of meeting every single teacher and staff member of the school, giving each one of them the firm Lincoln Burrows handshake that said You know, I like you and I know where you live in equal measures.

Still thinking Michael ran his hand absentmindedly over his brother's chest. The end of the third week was the one to watch out for. Usually that was the time when LJ grew close to people and the first tentative connections were being made. Connections led to paranoia, paranoia led to panic, panic led to them hitting the boat and finding the next city, the next school, the next country. It wasn't that LJ feared his new friends, he feared for them, waking up screaming from nightmares where he found them bloody and headless.

For once the third week had passed, and so had the fourth. Short trips in the immediate area turned into alternating days watching over LJ and staying back at the harbor, to the first consecutive days away. The first steps back into a normal life.

*

By the time the clock struck two, Michael put his book away and rolled on his side. He smiled. A sleeping Lincoln wasn't always the most endearing sight, snoring lightly, mouth open because of the uncomfortable position, brow still furrowed in his sleep. He tugged lightly on his brother's arm. Even now Lincoln still jerked from his sleep, expecting an attack.

"Food?" Michael asked.

Lincoln nodded and groggily he got on his feet. Adjusting his clothes he stared up at the windows. He didn't have to say anything, but Michael knew that he was looking for a flash from LJ. Tearing himself away rather unwillingly he bent down to collect their stuff.

It was only a five minute drive to the food stands, mostly spent in silence. Michael could feel his stomach grumble as soon as he pushed the car door open. They had arrived at a convenient time; not many people populated the small area in front of the stands. They found a table in the shade and Lincoln took seat there, waiting for Michael to arrive with a selection of hot snacks.

"It's a good sign," Lincoln said digging into his coxinha, some sort of chicken croquette dish that Michael had selected for him.

"What is?"

"I think he's getting embarrassed by us."

Michael arched one eyebrow.

"Not really yet, but it's starting to occur to him. He's starting to look at cars." Lincoln bunched together the tinfoil that served as a plate and crunched it into a little ball. He looked past Michael, into the woods. "Always looks away immediately, but he's getting there."

Michael smiled. "That's bad news for him then. Over here you have to be eighteen to drive."

"It's the thought that counts."

Michael's hand began to prickle as if to tell him that where it wanted to be was on Lincoln's knee down under the table. Disconcerted he turned his attention back to his food.

“So,” Lincoln said. “You gonna eat that?”

*

They grabbed a few extra portions wrapped in tinfoil for dinner. Michael threw the package into the back and circled to the front of the car. “How about I drive,” he said, making a grab for the keys in Lincoln's hand. Lincoln snatched his hand away.

“Yeah, right.” He slipped into the front seat. “Come on!”

Angrily Michael climbed into the passenger seat, throwing the door shut behind him. He stared at Lincoln with mounting irritation.

“In case it wasn't obvious, I'm not your girlfriend.”

Lincoln threw him one of those looks. “I noticed.” He turned his attention back to the steering wheel.

Michael's mouth went dry. Something inside him had to be wired wrong, because when he should have been angry at Lincoln, he found himself become aroused. Trying to distract himself from the beginning erection in his pants, he tried to focus on something else.

His gaze wandered around. Their car. No little toy hanging from the rear-view mirror because anything swinging made Lincoln nervous. A snapshot of the school stuck into the side of the window frame. A small signal of hope though they hadn't been able to bring themselves to pose for a picture with the three of them smiling. It seemed like a way of tempting fate.

His eyes were drawn back to Lincoln. It occurred to him that maybe the new state of their arrangement meant that they no longer had to come up with an excuse to have sex. Or wait till the wee hours of the morning where they could hide it from everyone including themselves.

His heart began to beat faster. He shouldn't be thinking like this.

*

The sun still stood high by the time they pulled into the parking area. Slipping out of the car, Michael grabbed the blanket from the back seat under his arm and together they walked towards the building. As they got closer, Michael slowed down. Lincoln stopped and turned to look at him, concerned.

“Something wrong?”

Michael gnawed on his lip. “How about,” he indicated over to a row of hedges on the edge of the private soccer field. “It would be close enough, don't you think?” He lowered his head. “There'd be shade, too.”

Lincoln's expression didn't betray any reaction, but he followed Michael over to the hedges. Together they spread the blanket on the ground and then Michael pulled Lincoln down with him. He looked around.

"You think somebody might see us?"

Lincoln snorted. "It's a private school. Bet they shoot people without visitation passes."

Michael quickly ran the odds through his head. No phys ed was scheduled today. "We could still meet an unsuspecting gardener."

Lincoln flashed him a sloppy grin.

"That's okay."

He wrapped one arm around Michael and pulled him closer. It was surprising how fast they fell back into old routines, Michael's head on his brother's shoulder, neatly tucked along his side even though nowadays his feet stood out beyond the blanket and Lincoln groaned jokingly when Michael flung himself on top. Lincoln's arms bulged under his tight blue tank top and Michael ran his hands over them appreciatively. Here they allowed themselves an embrace more intimate than would have been appropriate out in the open where LJ or any of the other inhabitants of the venerable old school might see.

With a deep breath Michael let his hand wander lower. He gave himself plenty of time, deliberately springing the belt buckle open. Lincoln groaned in frustration as he watched, but it just encouraged Michael to slow his pace even further. Dawdling he trailed up again, drawing an invisible line, then tickling the first curb of the rib cage, just on the edge discomfort. Then he danced downward again, finally slipping his hand inside, wrapping around Lincoln's already hardening cock. Struggling with the cloth covering it, he managed to tease it out between the folds of the Lincoln's boxer shorts.

Lincoln's cock felt hot and silky in his hand and Michael buried his head in Lincoln's shoulder to stifle a groan. He could feel his heart beat faster and his mouth water as he stroked down its full length, hot and soft against his palm. He moaned. This wouldn't last long. He pressed his own erection needily in Lincoln's side. Next, he flicked his fingers against the head and then ran them all the way down and inside again to cup and stroke Lincoln's magnificent heavy balls.

God, I shouldn't be losing it like this, he thought just as he bit down into Lincoln's t-shirt, wetting it with his spit. Lincoln had wrapped one arm around his shoulders, rocking along with him and spreading kisses all over his forehead.

"Fuck, Michael, fuck, don't stop."

Michael nodded and moved up to wrap his full hand around Lincoln's cock again, setting a fast pace in sync with his own gyrations. "On your side,” he hissed, “or else you'll come all over your shirt."

Lincoln cursed and rolled over, Michael never letting off his ministrations. Moaning deeply he buried his nose in the spot between Lincoln's shoulder blades, his hand stroking faster and faster while he dry-humped Lincoln's back in mounting desperation to find his own release. They were connected and when Lincoln's orgasm hit it felt like it went right through him, like they were coming together. Michael bit down on Lincoln's shoulder as he lived through every shudder even though he was still hard.

Together they fell back, both breathing hard, Michael's dick still standing up like a fucking flagpole, the intensity so high that his face ached. Lincoln cursed again and rolled on his belly, throwing one arm across Michael's chest as he pressed his lips against Michael's temple. Right then, Michael couldn't feel anything except the electric spark on his lower back and the heat across his groin.

"Fuck fuckety fuck fuck."

His eyes were wide and slowly he became aware of Lincoln nibbling on his earlobe. Embarrassed he moved away and cleared his throat. "Would you mind?" he said once he was able to breathe again, indicating downward. Lincoln grinned against his ear. He put his hand on Michael's chest and slowly started stroking in a circular motion. "Car," he whispered.

"What!?"

"Car," Lincoln explained and jumped up, stuffing his equipment back into his pants.

"Are you insane?"

"I want some alone time with you," Lincoln said, extending his hand. Michael swallowed hard. Alarm bells were sounding in his head, too much, too good, too soon. However, even though the first buzz had abated, the throbbing in his crotch wasn't going to be denied and so he allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet.

*

His legs felt wobbly as they hurried back to the parking space, ducking low like thieves. Michael sighed with relief when he grabbed the warm metallic door handle. Dry, hot air hit him when he opened the car and slid into the backseat. Unsure, he stared down on his hands.

“Hey, snap out of it,” Lincoln said from the front, where he switched on the A/C and Michael shot him a grateful look. He waited patiently for Lincoln to slam the door and come around to the back seat.

Climbing in, Lincoln settled against the side window. "C'mere," he mumbled, sexily, his eyes half clouded. He stretched his arm out, pulling Michael close, settling him down on his lap. Michael allowed it, letting himself sink in, his back against Lincoln's chest, shifting to find just the right position with his ass against Lincoln's crotch and his own dick throbbing not too uncomfortably in the encasement of his pants.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, when Lincoln's hand sunk down, his fingers slowly circling the tented bulge."You are gonna make this slow, aren't you?"

"Mmmmm."

With few manipulations Lincoln managed to tease Michael's pants open. He eased them down, together with Michael's boxers, letting them hang loosely around Michael's knees. Lincoln's hands, so large, so familiar wandered up again. They halted right above Michael's hips, lightly brushing just against the rim of the tattoo, still hidden underneath Michael's shirt. Michael swallowed hard and then decided it was okay. Right now there were more important things to worry about.

Like wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking. It was already slick with precome from their aborted encounter. Michael sighed with contentment. About time.

Behind him Lincoln froze. Cursing how attuned they were to each other, Michael stopped his own movements. “What?” he said annoyed.

“Nothing,” Lincoln said, staring down over Michael's shoulder, transfixed by the sight. “There was something I planned on doing, but I'm beat.” He kissed the back of Michael's neck. “Oh, right, this.” He placed his hand over Michael's, moving with him in sync, then stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucking. Michael felt his mouth run dry. “I'm think I'll reassess my decision to never let you come first again,” he groaned, huskily.

“Oh yeah?”

The fingers started their journey down again, stopping to collect some precome from the top of Michael's dick. Once they disappeared between Michael's legs, curling around, Michael's head fell back. Without his own volition he began to roll his hips in anticipation, trying to spread his knees as wide as he was able to as Lincoln's hand edged closer to its goal. Lincoln's other hand squeezed down on his, sending additional pressure to his cock. If it hadn't been for Lincoln holding him steady, slowing him, he might have come on the spot.

Instead Lincoln teased him, testing his sphincter, pressing and releasing, before entering him, mercifully. A sharp pain shot through him, the lack of lubrication making itself noticeable. Lincoln sensed it and stopped, only rotating the tip of his finger, drawing tiny circles inside of Michael. His other wrapped around Michael's achingly hard cock, stroking up and down slowly and deliberately. Michael couldn't help thrusting upward into the friction. His hips jerked forward and then slammed down again, welcoming the little sting.

Without thinking, he pulled his hand away from Lincoln's grasp, leaving his brother total control over his lower body. Lincoln made a low, guttural sound of surprise and Michael's lips curled up in appreciation. They both knew how much Michael preferred to be in control. Pressing down, Michael ran his hands up his body, stroking himself, twisting his nipples through his shirt as he gyrated in Lincoln's hands. It was almost too little, not big enough, just a tease, but he knew there just wasn't enough time to get a second finger in.

Then Lincoln found the right spot and all coherent thoughts bled together as pure heat spread through him. Feverish he impelled his hand downwards again, tugging at his shirt, yearning to touch his own heated flesh. Trapped in this duality of pleasure between Lincoln's hands, his mind slowly being drained away, he caressed himself pretending that it was Lincoln, all Lincoln, spread fingers all over his belly, coarse fabric brushing against his nipples. With one hand he stroked his own throat, as he buried his face in Lincoln's. “God,” he moaned. Lincoln's ministrations grew more frenzied and Michael gave himself over to them. His own crazed pulse throbbed against his palm and he moved higher, feeling his flushed face. Then he ran his fingers over his parched, yearning lips. He teased himself for just a second before thrusting them in, sucking, needing to be filled, feeling their roughness against his tongue.

His field of vision narrowed down. Michael knew he had crossed the point of no return. He just barely felt Lincoln's groan reverberate through his body, pressed against Lincoln's chest before stars went off behind his eyes and he came groaning, shuddering into Lincoln's hand. His whole body trembled as he spent himself completely.

“Fuck,” they both said in unison.

*

Michael sank back on the seat and left it to Lincoln to clean up any last drops of semen that might have slipped between his finger. A feeling of contentment washed over him as he watched Lincoln crawl between the seats armoured with a wet wipe. He propped himself up on one arm to get a better look as his brain ran an automatic check on all of his body parts.

“I've got a burn in my ass,” he announced.

“Well,” Lincoln said, his tongue pressed behind his lips in deep concentration as he surveyed the back of the headrest on the driver's side. “You come like a girl.”

Michael snorted. “I think the back of your seat might want to differ.” He pulled his pants up over his thighs, and then on a whim left them open, enjoying the feeling of his genitals hanging free. It wasn't quite a summery breeze in here, but he'd take it.

Lincoln smiled at him. “Who knew my little brother could be this raunchy?”

“Satisfied?” Michael asked with a grin.

“Mmm, yes.” Lincoln cocked his head and then settled down beside him. He drew Michael into a hug close to his chest. Michael shook his head and leaned into Lincoln's embrace. They shifted awkwardly, trying to find the right way to share the same space. “Can you take your shirt off?” Michael asked quietly once they had found it.

Lincoln raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then pulled the objectionable garment over his head. With a sigh, Michael put his head down on Lincoln's chest, running his hand over the gorgeous, well defined pecs. If he still didn't feel comfortable in his own skin, at least he could enjoy Lincoln's. Leaning in he pressed an open mouthed kiss right above the nipple. He watched it, then lapped across it softly, taking in the taste and texture before rubbing against it with his nose. They both were too spent and tired to initiate anything, so Michael only searched for the perfect position to doze and this felt remarkably like comfort. He listened as Lincoln's breaths got deeper and his arm tightened around Michael's shoulder.

"Maybe we should invest in tinted windows."

"No," Lincoln said. "Too much of a risk. LJ wouldn't be able to see who's coming."

Of course.

Closing his eyes, Michael pressed his nose against Lincoln's chest again let himself sink. It was a deliberate process, the shutting down of every stage of alertness, forcing himself to remember that they were safe. Lincoln tasted warm and salty against his lips. He had one leg slung around Lincoln's. A patch of sunlight rested on Lincoln's chest. Michael could feel the difference when he ran his hand across it, even with his eyes shut. His cheek went up and down with every one of Lincoln's breaths.

A few isolated sparse strands of hair curled on Lincoln's chest and Michael weaved his fingers through them. He flinched when Lincoln's hand shot up and grabbed his, pinning it down. His wrist burned where Lincoln's fingers encircled it and he froze.

After a couple of seconds Lincoln slowly opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Look,” Michael said. “Let's just... rest, okay?”

Lincoln nodded and let go of Michael's hand. Uneasily Michael settled back into his previous position. And like this they dozed off.

*

“Where are you going?”

Michael shrugged. “Just for a walk.”

Lincoln eyed him dubiously. He reached for his shirt, but stopped when Michael tensed. Slowly he sank back into the cushion.

“How long?”

“Not too long.”

With a sigh, Lincoln ran his hand over his shorn head. “Stay in the area, 'kay?”

“Never planned it any other way.”

Turning his back, Michael threw the car door shut and stepped out into the light. As he walked away, he felt Lincoln's questioning look against the back of his neck. The fine gravel gnashed under his feet as he drew a wide circle to the back of the main building. Behind the soccer fields and the general sports area the administration had left a small undergrowth. Michael breathed in deeply and stepped inside.

It was the only space on the whole estate the gardeners visited rarely. Rather than being cut down periodically it was left in a semi wild state. It seemed somebody in the administration thought it would be educational to have their own perfectly preserved piece of jungle should any of their students be so sheltered that they had never seen one.

Large hanging trees offered welcoming shade. Michael felt at peace here. The scrub forest wasn't large enough to support a highly diverse selection of animal life, but Michael preferred that it was quiet aside from the ever buzzing sound of insects and the occasional interruption by the flight of a bird. Even inside here the heat was sweltering. He leaned against the trunk of a large grumichama tree and then sunk down slowly. His joints creaked as he squatted, the tree's bark biting into his back. A sigh rippled through his whole body.

Despite his post-coital bravado, he had known that something was wrong. What they were doing now was different. Free. Willing. In broad daylight. Out of want, not necessity. Michael bit his lips and pressed his palms against his brow. There was less room to hide now in the darkness and behind their excuses. Exasperated, he drew his hand over his face.

What he knew was this: They meshed well, sexually. Very well. A fact that he still tried very hard not to think about, not to think about what that meant. He'd let himself go. Given too much, too quickly. Revealed too much.

He had asked for this, but the ray of optimism he'd felt this morning was gone. He'd done it wrong. They fell into place too easily and it betrayed everything he believed in. Laughing joylessly, he grabbed a wooden stick from the floor and threw it. If the last year had taught him anything, it was that nothing ever fell into place.

*

When he emerged from the undergrowth, Lincoln was there, hands thrust in his pockets, waiting maybe twenty feet away. Michael closed up to him.

Lincoln jerked his head. “You wanna talk?”

“No.”

They walked beside each other.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“What's it to you?”

Michael gave him one of those looks and then shrugged.

“Ten minutes tops,” he looked to the side, avoiding Michael's gaze. “I get queasy when I don't know where you are.”

“How much longer?”

“Don't you have a watch? About an hour. LJ just sent me a text. He's fine.”

Michael put his hand casually on Lincoln's arm. Lincoln froze. Michael had learned a long time ago that it was Lincoln's nature to be expecting bad news constantly. At least this part wasn't new. “I got something I want to show you,” he said.

He led Lincoln to the back of the building, where it threw an odd corner, creating a niche between the short back wall and an even shorter side wall, barely twelve feet long. Leaning against it, he turned to his brother. He closed his eyes. Right now, he just wanted lose himself in Lincoln.

“C'mere,” he murmured and pulled his brother close, his hand on the nape of Lincoln's neck. “Closer,” and Lincoln pushed his body flush against Michael, pressing him back against the wall. Michael gave in to the embrace. One arm around Lincoln's shoulders and with his hand stroking Lincoln's head, he buried his nose in the hollow of Lincoln's throat. The skin there was warm, familiar, light stubble grazing against his lips. He sighed with pleasure. At least this was a true love, a pure one, born way back in the moment when Lincoln let him sit by and watch while Lincoln had his first shave.

Slowly he ran his hands down the curve of Lincoln's back. They found Lincoln's ass, grabbed and squeezed. He sensed a smile form on Lincoln's lips and quickly raised his head to spread kisses on the underside of Lincoln's throat.

“This place, I wanna do it here,” Michael rasped.

Their bodies were so close together, rocking up against each other. They communicated in hushed whispers, barely louder than a breath. “You sure that's safe?”

“I've been here before, the only windows are right up, we'd only be seen if somebody looked straight down and there's always the window sill. And next to us,” he closed his arms around Lincoln's back again, meeting every maddening little thrust of Lincoln's hips, “is the kitchen.” He'd thought it over. Chances were good nobody would see them, or anybody, in this corner of the building.

“You always scout for sex places when you walk around?”

“No,” he said quickly, the rhythm of their bodies now almost hypnotic, starting to drain all blood from his head as he ground his words out between clenched teeth. “Just thought it might be a place where someone might be able to hide.”

“How?” Lincoln rasped, drawing his hands over Michael's ass. It felt nice. So nice.

Placing his palms against Lincoln's shoulders, Michael pushed him back. He ran one finger over Lincoln's lips. “You got something for me?” Lincoln reached his hand into his back pocket, almost sheepishly, and then held the little package in front of him.

Michael nodded and without any pretense slipped his jeans down and stepped out of them. Lincoln blinked at him for a moment and then moved quickly to unzip his pants and rid himself of his shirt. Even so, he wasn't fast enough. Ripping the lube open with his teeth Michael poured the colorless liquid into his hands. His hands found Lincoln's dick. Seconds bled into each other as he stroked and coated it, teasing Lincoln over the brink of no resistance.

“Now,” Michael whispered. With Lincoln's help he slung his legs around Lincoln's midriff and clasped hiss shoulders for balance. The white mural felt cool even though his shirt. He waited for Lincoln, who had one hand steadying Michael's ass, the other one wrapped around his own dick trying to push in.

“We really should have...” Lincoln started but Michael pinched him, and then with a groan of relief, Lincoln slid inside. Michael's legs automatically tightened around Lincoln's waist and they rocked together, working for each additional inch. Michael could see the sweat streaming down Lincoln's face and the way those heavy muscles worked. “What,” Lincoln hissed, “do you get out of this?” and Michael pinched him again. Lincoln braced himself against the wall, his palm next to Michael's cheek and thrust forward. Apparently he had decided that this was as deep is it would go and began working Michael in earnest.

They almost lost their footing when Lincoln tried to reach for Michael's dick and so Michael signaled him no. This was how he wanted it. His shoulder blades braced into the corner against two walls, Lincoln's hand on his ass as he slid in and out, his own hands on Lincoln's hard, familiar shoulders, his legs wrapped around Linc's torso. It was an immaculate agony, the shudders of perfection when Lincoln hit his prostate, the knowledge they they both could come crashing down at any moment, just holding on to the brink as he urged Lincoln on and Lincoln drove him into the wall with each thrust.

Michael's breath started to come in short, helpless gasps. Rivulets of sweat poured down their bodies till he couldn't stand it any longer. He dropped his hand, almost crashing sideways, only the side wall holding him up. Twisting his body, he pushed back onto Lincoln's cock, his hand wrapped around his own. Nearly dying from the heat, he brought himself off with a few furious jerks, quick and dirty, losing himself. His mouth went dry and his legs trembled like he had been shocked. He let himself be taken as Lincoln hissed and intensified his effort as he felt Michael beginning to slip. He came with one last, powerful thrust, shuddering, his hands digging into Michael's ass, his spine arched.

Before his tremors had even completely subsided, he slipped one arm under Michael's side, to keep him from sinking onto the floor. Leaning his head against the wall he pulled Michael up against him and Michael felt the loss of Lincoln's dick slipping from his body like a sting.

He slipped his arms around Lincoln's sweat glazed back and kissed his throat, tasting salt. It took a while before either of them caught their breath again.

*

“You're lucky you had an extra shirt,” Lincoln commented and slipped his shades on again.

LJ appeared in front them, his cheeks flushed, his hair bopping as he ran, and Lincoln stepped out the the car to greet him. Michael smiled and waved. Lincoln's arm went easily around the boy's shoulder and Michael could see him talking down on his son affectionately, the teen a full head shorter than his father. He knew that Lincoln made a habit of telling LJ he loved him, as often as he could. Almost awkwardly LJ pulled from Lincoln's grasp, punching him playfully in the shoulder. He was looking down, his cheeks bright red, but still looked happy. Lincoln slapped him on the back and led him back to the car.

With a pout, LJ slid into the back. “Why do I never get to sit up front?”

Michael smiled. “Sorry buddy.”

They exchanged a playful handshake - LJ had separate ones for him and Lincoln - and the boy wrapped his hand around Lincoln's headrest.

“Seat belt,” Lincoln declared, reaching for the ignition.

LJ rolled his eyes and then did as ordered. “How long were you out there today?” he wanted to know. “I didn't see you.”

Michael turned around, smiling sweetly. “We were there, just walking around the area.” The answer seemed to satisfy LJ. He looked out of the window and tapped his finger on his bag.

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” Lincoln asked, not taking his hands off the steering wheel.

LJ lowered his eyes. “Naw, it's stupid.”

Lincoln turned his head and he and Michael shared a pointed look. “So,” Michael started, changing the subject. “I heard you want to drive?”

“Like he would ever let me.”

“How about now?”

Michael arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“I'm serious,” Lincoln said. He pulled over. They hadn't gotten too far. The street was nearly empty. The school lay on private land, on the outskirts of the city and the majority of both staff and students stayed overnight during the week. LJ stared at his father, aghast, and then darted up from his seat worried that Lincoln might change his mind again.

Lincoln threw Michael a grin and pushed the door open. Mouth hanging open in excitement, LJ sank down on the driver's seat. Michael watched, amused at how the young boy clasped the steering wheel like it was a sacred relic.

Meanwhile, Lincoln had circled around. Wrapping one arm around Michael's middle, he lifted him off his seat, before sliding in himself. Then he pulled Michael down on his lap and threw the door shut.

“Now drive.”

“Hell yeah!”

Michael stared in mock horror as LJ hit the wrong gear. He couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled up inside of him as the car lurched forward and the engine died a sputtering death.

“We are not wearing any seat belt,” Lincoln announced, his hand resting on Michael's leg. “Crash the car and I'll make you an orphan.”

“That doesn't even make any sense,” LJ shot back and Michael gave him a high five. “He's right you know,” he murmured towards Lincoln, feeling a light tug on his thigh. He leaned over, selecting the first gear for his nephew.

LJ hit the pedals and with another lurch the faithful jeep jumped into motion. Lincoln's full, deep laughter filled the interior, joining LJ's cheers of victory as the car hobbled down the street. Lincoln's arm tightened around Michael and seeing the boy completely engrossed by the road in front of him, Michael allowed himself to drop his hand and let it rest on Lincoln's.

*

“So, what is it?” Lincoln started as as the three of them lazed around, the deck just large enough for their three chairs squeezed together.

LJ turned his head and sipped on the pint sized glass of beer that Lincoln allowed him drink every once in a while when he was with them. Michael smiled. It wasn't that Lincoln truly disapproved of underage drinking. He just took the position that LJ would have to find ways to do it secretly with his peers just like any other teenager. Till he did, this would have to be enough.

“What is what?”

“What you didn't want to tell me today in the car,” Lincoln grinned. “Before we let you manhandle our poor car.”

In response, LJ stuck his tongue out and Lincoln reached over to ruffle his son's hair till the poor kid's head was buzzing. Then Lincoln dropped his hand.

“It's nothing serious, is it?”

“No, no, it's not that."

Hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them, LJ stared out into the ocean. “I guess it's a kind of prom,” he finally volunteered. He thrust is legs back on the deck. “It's stupid anyway. I don't really know anybody yet. Seems like they take it all serious and... ” Lincoln shot him a warning look and LJ stopped before the cussword slipped out. “With dancing and stuff like that.”

“Well, do you want to go?”

“Of course not!” LJ said a bit too quickly.

Lincoln shot Michael a knowing look and brought his bottle of Corona to his lips again. He smiled evilly.

“You know LJ, your uncle Mike actually knows how to ballroom dance.”

Michael did a double take. “Do not!”

Lincoln laughed. “Sure you do." He turned back to LJ. "I'm sure he could show you,” he added with obvious mischief in his voice.

“There is no way in hell that...”

*

“Okay, left foot back, then right to the side and close. Right foot forward, to the side and close. Got it?” He clasped his nephew's hands more tightly, about to move.

LJ blocked and eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you aren't teaching me girls' steps?”

“What?” Michael looked down at their feet. “I think in this one the men's steps and the girls' steps are identical.”

LJ seemed unconvinced.

“Come on. Back, side, close, forward, side, close.”

Behind him he could hear Lincoln chuckle.

“How is that supposed to work,” LJ whined.

“Look, once you have settled into the base step, you make one side step small and the next one wide. Like this.”

He twirled LJ around once, his brother now freely in his line of sight. Lincoln quickly pretended to turn his attention back to the table, working swiftly to remove the last remains of their dinner. Michael could tell that he was hiding a secret smile. Quickly he took LJ for another spin, a full one this time, barely realizing when he stepped on the youth's feet.

“Daaaad, Michael won't let me lead.”

Michael thanked an unknown deity that he had never had any ambition to become a teacher. “Base steps, LJ, base steps, there is no point in you...”

Lincoln's chuckle grew into a full bellowing laugh as he dropped back on the last remaining deck chair, sending it creaking.

“How do you know how to dance, anyway, Uncle Mike?”

“Oh please,” Lincoln said. “There is only one reason for a guy to know ballroom dancing.” He held Michael's eyes with a smile.

Michael blushed a little and led LJ into another ground step. “Well,” he said. “At least she was quite limber.” He looked over at Lincoln again. Beer in hand, his brother was grinning at the at them. Breathing deeply, Michael opened another spin.

“At this rate, I'm never going to learn,” LJ complained.

“How about letting the poor boy catch a break,” Lincoln said, rising and moving over to them.

“Yeah,” LJ mumbled, freeing himself from Michael's grasp. He stumbled back and threw himself into the deck chair.

“I don't want to go to this stupid dance anyway.” His whine fell on deaf ears.

“So...” Lincoln said, taking Michael's hand and slipping one arm around his waist. “How about it?”

Michael gulped and decided to forgo telling him that technically his hand should be closer to his partner's shoulder than to his ass. He threw one cautious look over Lincoln's shoulder.

Behind them, LJ groped for his beer, nibbling on the rim. Michael also decided to overlook the way LJ was eyeing Lincoln's left behind bottle.

Turning his attention back to Lincoln, he said, “Well, by now you should be informed. Left foot back.” They bumped into each other immediately and Michael couldn't suppress a grin. “The other left.” Exercising pressure on his hand, he nudged Lincoln into a back step.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see LJ curled up on his chair, running his fingers over the buttons of his mobile phone. He smiled.

Girl, he mouthed.

"Way ahead of you, daughter of some African diplomat," Lincoln whispered back and experimentally increased the pressure against Michael's palm, then squeezing Michael's waist. At the same time, he tried to step forward and their knees bumped into each other.

Laughter bubbled up inside of Michael. “You aren't seriously trying to dip me, are you?” He led Lincoln into another awkward twirl, an experiment his feet paid for instantly.

“It's official. You suck worse at this than your teenage son.”

“I do?” Lincoln tightened his grip and they took another spin. Or attempted. There were barely five feet between the wall of the flybridge and the railing. They were just too damn close, Michael decided. It was getting harder to navigate without smacking into anything.

“If my feet blister from this, you'll pay,” Michael grinned.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

They stopped, swaying, Lincoln's arm still lightly around him, and before Michael could say that he thought that it would be a bad idea, Lincoln cupped his cheek and kissed him.