Fic Prison Break - Seducment Alex/Michael PG
Title: Seducment
Pairing/Characters: Mahone/Michael
Rating:PG
Summary: Michael has left a trail for Mahone, but will he follow it?
Spoilers:End of Season 1 as is Post-Escape.
"He's here."
Michael raised the binoculars, training in on the figures below, quickly identifying Mahone in the crush; pristine white shirt, pressed suit with tan folder in hand he presented the epitome of professionalism. He watched as the agent swept the plaza for signs of Michael and Lincoln, his movements efficient, mouth moving with orders Michael could not hear.
Sarah had been unexpected. Gentle, sweet, beautiful. His attraction to her, his body's response to her, had taken him by surprise but he hadn't hesitated to use it to his advantage. He had forged an alliance he could exploit and it had been little hardship to seduce her.
But this...
Mahone was different. Smart, ruthless, brilliant. And Michael respected that, responded to that. The agent's tenacity, though inconvenient, excited him more than he understood. Standing here as he watched the other man duck and weave through the crowd, a burn of arousal coiled low in his guts as adrenaline raced icy through his veins.
Michael inhaled slowly as he welcomed the intoxication of disciplined logic to wash over him, suppressing the fear and anxiety that had simmered within him since the escape, diminishing the anger at being unable to control this fractured world.
"Why are we still here?" Lincoln's hard tone was accusatory, and Michael sighed as he dropped his gaze from the man below and turned to his brother, watching passively as the older man wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt.
"I've explained-"
"Then explain again."
"Stop stressing, it won't do any good. I'm just trying to buy us a little time."
"You set the trap, Mahone is already here. He'll find it. Shouldn't we be using this time to run, not stare at the back of heads?" Lincoln was edgy, wild eyes darting as he scanned the rooftop for imminent danger, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
"I need to know which direction Mahone takes, if he even takes the bait at all. Then we can leave the opposite way. Unless we try it your way. I suppose that would be what, picking a direction and running? That your plan?" Michael turned back to the edge, once more raising the binoculars to his eyes, wincing in pain as sunlight glinted off the water in a fountain, the sudden glare blinding him.
And if that allowed him more time to study this puzzle, more time to gather information on this man then all the better. From this distance Michael couldn't see the agent's eyes but he knew how they'd look; flinty, wild as Mahone tried to think against the noise, tried to discern what Michael was planning. Michael could recall with perfect clarity the moment he first looked into his hunter's eyes. He had been taken unaware, so caught by the agent in elevator he'd frozen, his moments of indecision possibly costing L.J. his freedom. Michael had never met someone like Mahone, come across such an adversary, their game of cat and mouse lethal.
"Michael," Lincoln tried vainly to egg his brother into action, "we have to leave." But he had become like so much background noise to Michael, information input that was unimportant, ignorable. Michael studied the man below, watching as he ripped his cap from his head, balling it in his fist as no sign of the brothers was found. That temper, that passion simmering just below the surface was intoxicating. He watched as the veneer of respectability began to fall away, leaving just the flawed psyche of a man so like that of his prey. A small grin graced Michael's mouth as a young female agent began to approach Mahone, her movements jerky and unsure. Whatever information she had to relay, it wasn't what Mahone wanted to hear. The woman leapt backwards as Mahone shouted and threw his hat to the ground, spinning in a tight circle as he still vainly sought the brothers.
Through the binoculars Michael observed Mahone's fingers trailing across the folder in his hands, the caress light as a lover's. As the folder was flipped open, Michael caught the glare of sunlight off matt photograph paper and he could just vaguely make out his own features, and the blue haze that now represented his torso and back.
Interesting.
Mahone's head dipped as he flipped through picture after picture as he sought comprehension in the images, finger's lingering across each one, tracing something only he could see.
"If all this gets the two of us caught-"
"I know, Linc. You won't be breaking me out. This will work; we’ll get under the radar for a while and give us a clear run to Mexico."
Mahone jerked upright, mouth moving as he shouted out orders, right hand pointing at what he wanted, left hand tugging his tie from it's snug placement, unbuttoning his shirt, agents scrambling from his path as they rushed to carry out his orders, his mercurial moods getting the better even of them. Michael watched as Mahone stood by the car, a slight smile on the older man's mouth as his shoulders shook gently with his quiet laughter. Michael knew enough of the man to understand. He believed he knew Michael's plan, believed he was inside the convict's head.
The game was on.
Pairing/Characters: Mahone/Michael
Rating:PG
Summary: Michael has left a trail for Mahone, but will he follow it?
Spoilers:End of Season 1 as is Post-Escape.
"He's here."
Michael raised the binoculars, training in on the figures below, quickly identifying Mahone in the crush; pristine white shirt, pressed suit with tan folder in hand he presented the epitome of professionalism. He watched as the agent swept the plaza for signs of Michael and Lincoln, his movements efficient, mouth moving with orders Michael could not hear.
Sarah had been unexpected. Gentle, sweet, beautiful. His attraction to her, his body's response to her, had taken him by surprise but he hadn't hesitated to use it to his advantage. He had forged an alliance he could exploit and it had been little hardship to seduce her.
But this...
Mahone was different. Smart, ruthless, brilliant. And Michael respected that, responded to that. The agent's tenacity, though inconvenient, excited him more than he understood. Standing here as he watched the other man duck and weave through the crowd, a burn of arousal coiled low in his guts as adrenaline raced icy through his veins.
Michael inhaled slowly as he welcomed the intoxication of disciplined logic to wash over him, suppressing the fear and anxiety that had simmered within him since the escape, diminishing the anger at being unable to control this fractured world.
"Why are we still here?" Lincoln's hard tone was accusatory, and Michael sighed as he dropped his gaze from the man below and turned to his brother, watching passively as the older man wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt.
"I've explained-"
"Then explain again."
"Stop stressing, it won't do any good. I'm just trying to buy us a little time."
"You set the trap, Mahone is already here. He'll find it. Shouldn't we be using this time to run, not stare at the back of heads?" Lincoln was edgy, wild eyes darting as he scanned the rooftop for imminent danger, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
"I need to know which direction Mahone takes, if he even takes the bait at all. Then we can leave the opposite way. Unless we try it your way. I suppose that would be what, picking a direction and running? That your plan?" Michael turned back to the edge, once more raising the binoculars to his eyes, wincing in pain as sunlight glinted off the water in a fountain, the sudden glare blinding him.
And if that allowed him more time to study this puzzle, more time to gather information on this man then all the better. From this distance Michael couldn't see the agent's eyes but he knew how they'd look; flinty, wild as Mahone tried to think against the noise, tried to discern what Michael was planning. Michael could recall with perfect clarity the moment he first looked into his hunter's eyes. He had been taken unaware, so caught by the agent in elevator he'd frozen, his moments of indecision possibly costing L.J. his freedom. Michael had never met someone like Mahone, come across such an adversary, their game of cat and mouse lethal.
"Michael," Lincoln tried vainly to egg his brother into action, "we have to leave." But he had become like so much background noise to Michael, information input that was unimportant, ignorable. Michael studied the man below, watching as he ripped his cap from his head, balling it in his fist as no sign of the brothers was found. That temper, that passion simmering just below the surface was intoxicating. He watched as the veneer of respectability began to fall away, leaving just the flawed psyche of a man so like that of his prey. A small grin graced Michael's mouth as a young female agent began to approach Mahone, her movements jerky and unsure. Whatever information she had to relay, it wasn't what Mahone wanted to hear. The woman leapt backwards as Mahone shouted and threw his hat to the ground, spinning in a tight circle as he still vainly sought the brothers.
Through the binoculars Michael observed Mahone's fingers trailing across the folder in his hands, the caress light as a lover's. As the folder was flipped open, Michael caught the glare of sunlight off matt photograph paper and he could just vaguely make out his own features, and the blue haze that now represented his torso and back.
Interesting.
Mahone's head dipped as he flipped through picture after picture as he sought comprehension in the images, finger's lingering across each one, tracing something only he could see.
"If all this gets the two of us caught-"
"I know, Linc. You won't be breaking me out. This will work; we’ll get under the radar for a while and give us a clear run to Mexico."
Mahone jerked upright, mouth moving as he shouted out orders, right hand pointing at what he wanted, left hand tugging his tie from it's snug placement, unbuttoning his shirt, agents scrambling from his path as they rushed to carry out his orders, his mercurial moods getting the better even of them. Michael watched as Mahone stood by the car, a slight smile on the older man's mouth as his shoulders shook gently with his quiet laughter. Michael knew enough of the man to understand. He believed he knew Michael's plan, believed he was inside the convict's head.
The game was on.