Prison Break - Best Remained Unsaid
Title: Best Remained Unsaid
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1275
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: It would be wiser if some things remained unsaid. Obviously, they don’t do ‘wise’ a lot, so stuff is spoken about.
Author’s Note: Many thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
Surely, it would be wiser if some things remained unsaid. Obviously, they don’t do ‘wise’ a lot, so stuff is spoken about. Stuff like...
* *
... “Isn’t your brother a bit old now to let him sleep in your bed? Must make cases of morning wood fucking awkward,” Derek pointed out, wincing at the sheer idea. Michael froze with his beer only a couple of inches away from his lips. Lincoln, on the other hand, nonchalantly leant back in the couch, crossed his arms behind his head, and replied, “It’s okay. We take care of each other when it happens.” Derek laughed, kicked his shin and dropped the issue. Sometimes, honesty was the best façade - who would have imagined he was being serious?
... “I’ll do anything you want if you go with me. And I do mean anything.” It was the least subtle, lewdest innuendo Lincoln had heard in a while (Lincoln can’t help thinking that Michael really got a knack for making innocent words sound quite pornographic) and he wasn’t going to pass up such an offer. So he went with Michael. Next thing Michael knew, Lincoln was suggesting - well, demanding - “Let’s play cops and robbers... with a twist.” It was okay: under those circumstances, Michael didn’t mind being put under arrest and frisked. Very thoroughly.
... “I kind of have a kink for handcuffs.” As it turned out, Lincoln had a kink for cuffing him up. Classically to the head-board of the bed, nicely with his hands in front of him while reclining on the couch, playfully when on his knees jerking off and sucking Linc, or more naughtily with his arms bent behind his back. The first time Michael saw them dangling from the tip of his brother’s index finger, he keenly held out his wrists. The second time, he offered a bit of resistance, just on principle, and found out that apparently, he also had a kink for being wrestled down. As long as Lincoln was the one doing the wrestling down anyway.
... “It would be nice to switch every now and then, you know.” There was a blank expression on Lincoln’s face while he was figuring this out, and then came the answer: as he bluntly put it, he didn’t catch, he only pitched. But of course, Michael didn’t renounce, he only used other approaches. He coaxed and teased, kissed and licked; he put his fingers, lips and tongue to good use in all the appropriate ways and places until, eventually, Lincoln yielded and invitingly rolled onto his stomach. Clinging to him, fucking in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, Michael moaned without restraint into his brother’s ear and smiled against the nape of his neck when he felt him clench around him, shake beneath him, and finally come all over his hand. There was a sated, debauched gleam in Linc’s eyes when he turned his head and let Michael take his mouth as demandingly as he’d just taken his ass. Lincoln was man enough to admit it: it was nice to switch every now and then. Michael was magnanimous (and eager to do it all over again) enough not to gloat.
... “What about doing it in the shower?” Not a bad idea per se: easy cleaning of any sticky bodily fluids, and the warm water cascading on their backs and shoulders felt good. Not to mention the delectable closeness, to the point they were pressed flush against each other. Thing is, the extreme closeness eventually became an issue: two six-foot-tall men in a small shower booth? They ended up, a bit roughly, on the floor; additionally, Michael ended up with a rug burn on his ass.
... “I would never have pegged you as the prudish kind, Linc.” This remark was the reason why Michael ended up pinned against the wall in the lobby of his apartment building, at 7 PM when half of the occupants were coming home, with his pants around his knees and his dick down his brother’s throat. Lincoln really had the most talented lips and imaginative tongue when trying to make Michael come as fast as possible because he was (delightfully) afraid to be caught red-handed, with his mouth full and his own cock forming an obscene bulge in his jeans. Michael pumped his hips, choking him the slightest bit, grit his teeth and held back as long as possible just because. Sometimes, it really was too easy, he decided while gently cupping the back of Linc’s head and trying to bring him impossibly closer: the man could never resist a dare.
... “Do you mind if my brother joins in?” Michael was fairly sure that the pretty blonde Lincoln had brought home didn’t picture this kind of combination when she agreed: Linc sandwiched between the two of them, thrusting into her, letting Michael have his way with him. To Linc’s credit - he did pick up the right girl - she looked only briefly horrified before smirking and going for it. To her credit - there is wild, and then there is wild - they never saw her again.
... “You’re a girl,” Lincoln mocked when Michael snuggled up into him, nestling between his legs and peppering wet, indulgent little kisses in his neck. He was heavy and warm from their afternoon nap though, and Lincoln couldn’t keep the teasing from being heavily laced with affection. Eyes still closed, Michael grumbled about showing him being a girl and he rubbed down, grinding his half erect cock against Lincoln’s crotch. In a matter of seconds, Linc had his hands inside of Michael’s sweatpants and was pushing them out of the way, cupping the firm buttocks and pressing him down between his thighs. It only took a few squeezes and rolls of hips to get him totally hard and panting, and a few more before he lazily shot across Linc’s stomach, wet warmth gushing and making the hard muscles ripple with pleasure. Lincoln came too, then, from the delicious friction and the equally delicious heat surrounding them, realizing he was mumbling mushy nonsense only when Michael softly kissed his lips and asked him who was being a girl now.
... “This is perfectly natural, Mike, sex isn’t dirty,” was what Veronica had told him after she walked in on him in a rather intimate situation a few years ago, when he was only a teenager. Her cheeks were a bit red while she talked to him but not as much as his, even though at the time, he totally agreed with her. But Vee had been wrong: sometimes, it was dirty. Linc and he had been in bed for two days, getting up only briefly for bathroom and snack breaks. His muscles, among other parts of his anatomy, were wonderfully sore, his neck, ass and inner thighs marked by hickeys, his lips tender from having kissed and sucked and begged. He was covered in his brother’s sweat, saliva, come and scent - and reciprocally - and would have bet that the stench of sex and musk in the bedroom was barely bearable. When he brought up the word ‘shower’, Lincoln yanked him back to bed with a dismissive grunt, added to the mess and reveled into it, licking off of his skin and tonguing into his mouth a mixture of fluids Michael probably didn’t want to know about. It made him moan around his brother’s tongue and ground their stomachs together. See, sometimes it was dirty. And when done right and meaningfully, dirty was quite hot and enticing.
* *
... “I love you.”
What does remain unsaid, though, is ‘... way too much, way too wrong for our sanity of mind’.
-End-
Comments are always welcome.
Out-takes/drafts (don’t fit with the rest)
“I like that pink shirt.” Michael kept smirking at him for two hours after Linc had negligently admitted that. Giggled like a fucking chick when Linc felt compelled to be precise that the shirt was “not really pink anyway, rather salmon.”
“Fuck weather forecast. Let’s go camping.” - “Looks like the weather is fucking us, now, big brother.
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1275
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: It would be wiser if some things remained unsaid. Obviously, they don’t do ‘wise’ a lot, so stuff is spoken about.
Author’s Note: Many thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
Surely, it would be wiser if some things remained unsaid. Obviously, they don’t do ‘wise’ a lot, so stuff is spoken about. Stuff like...
* *
... “Isn’t your brother a bit old now to let him sleep in your bed? Must make cases of morning wood fucking awkward,” Derek pointed out, wincing at the sheer idea. Michael froze with his beer only a couple of inches away from his lips. Lincoln, on the other hand, nonchalantly leant back in the couch, crossed his arms behind his head, and replied, “It’s okay. We take care of each other when it happens.” Derek laughed, kicked his shin and dropped the issue. Sometimes, honesty was the best façade - who would have imagined he was being serious?
... “I’ll do anything you want if you go with me. And I do mean anything.” It was the least subtle, lewdest innuendo Lincoln had heard in a while (Lincoln can’t help thinking that Michael really got a knack for making innocent words sound quite pornographic) and he wasn’t going to pass up such an offer. So he went with Michael. Next thing Michael knew, Lincoln was suggesting - well, demanding - “Let’s play cops and robbers... with a twist.” It was okay: under those circumstances, Michael didn’t mind being put under arrest and frisked. Very thoroughly.
... “I kind of have a kink for handcuffs.” As it turned out, Lincoln had a kink for cuffing him up. Classically to the head-board of the bed, nicely with his hands in front of him while reclining on the couch, playfully when on his knees jerking off and sucking Linc, or more naughtily with his arms bent behind his back. The first time Michael saw them dangling from the tip of his brother’s index finger, he keenly held out his wrists. The second time, he offered a bit of resistance, just on principle, and found out that apparently, he also had a kink for being wrestled down. As long as Lincoln was the one doing the wrestling down anyway.
... “It would be nice to switch every now and then, you know.” There was a blank expression on Lincoln’s face while he was figuring this out, and then came the answer: as he bluntly put it, he didn’t catch, he only pitched. But of course, Michael didn’t renounce, he only used other approaches. He coaxed and teased, kissed and licked; he put his fingers, lips and tongue to good use in all the appropriate ways and places until, eventually, Lincoln yielded and invitingly rolled onto his stomach. Clinging to him, fucking in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, Michael moaned without restraint into his brother’s ear and smiled against the nape of his neck when he felt him clench around him, shake beneath him, and finally come all over his hand. There was a sated, debauched gleam in Linc’s eyes when he turned his head and let Michael take his mouth as demandingly as he’d just taken his ass. Lincoln was man enough to admit it: it was nice to switch every now and then. Michael was magnanimous (and eager to do it all over again) enough not to gloat.
... “What about doing it in the shower?” Not a bad idea per se: easy cleaning of any sticky bodily fluids, and the warm water cascading on their backs and shoulders felt good. Not to mention the delectable closeness, to the point they were pressed flush against each other. Thing is, the extreme closeness eventually became an issue: two six-foot-tall men in a small shower booth? They ended up, a bit roughly, on the floor; additionally, Michael ended up with a rug burn on his ass.
... “I would never have pegged you as the prudish kind, Linc.” This remark was the reason why Michael ended up pinned against the wall in the lobby of his apartment building, at 7 PM when half of the occupants were coming home, with his pants around his knees and his dick down his brother’s throat. Lincoln really had the most talented lips and imaginative tongue when trying to make Michael come as fast as possible because he was (delightfully) afraid to be caught red-handed, with his mouth full and his own cock forming an obscene bulge in his jeans. Michael pumped his hips, choking him the slightest bit, grit his teeth and held back as long as possible just because. Sometimes, it really was too easy, he decided while gently cupping the back of Linc’s head and trying to bring him impossibly closer: the man could never resist a dare.
... “Do you mind if my brother joins in?” Michael was fairly sure that the pretty blonde Lincoln had brought home didn’t picture this kind of combination when she agreed: Linc sandwiched between the two of them, thrusting into her, letting Michael have his way with him. To Linc’s credit - he did pick up the right girl - she looked only briefly horrified before smirking and going for it. To her credit - there is wild, and then there is wild - they never saw her again.
... “You’re a girl,” Lincoln mocked when Michael snuggled up into him, nestling between his legs and peppering wet, indulgent little kisses in his neck. He was heavy and warm from their afternoon nap though, and Lincoln couldn’t keep the teasing from being heavily laced with affection. Eyes still closed, Michael grumbled about showing him being a girl and he rubbed down, grinding his half erect cock against Lincoln’s crotch. In a matter of seconds, Linc had his hands inside of Michael’s sweatpants and was pushing them out of the way, cupping the firm buttocks and pressing him down between his thighs. It only took a few squeezes and rolls of hips to get him totally hard and panting, and a few more before he lazily shot across Linc’s stomach, wet warmth gushing and making the hard muscles ripple with pleasure. Lincoln came too, then, from the delicious friction and the equally delicious heat surrounding them, realizing he was mumbling mushy nonsense only when Michael softly kissed his lips and asked him who was being a girl now.
... “This is perfectly natural, Mike, sex isn’t dirty,” was what Veronica had told him after she walked in on him in a rather intimate situation a few years ago, when he was only a teenager. Her cheeks were a bit red while she talked to him but not as much as his, even though at the time, he totally agreed with her. But Vee had been wrong: sometimes, it was dirty. Linc and he had been in bed for two days, getting up only briefly for bathroom and snack breaks. His muscles, among other parts of his anatomy, were wonderfully sore, his neck, ass and inner thighs marked by hickeys, his lips tender from having kissed and sucked and begged. He was covered in his brother’s sweat, saliva, come and scent - and reciprocally - and would have bet that the stench of sex and musk in the bedroom was barely bearable. When he brought up the word ‘shower’, Lincoln yanked him back to bed with a dismissive grunt, added to the mess and reveled into it, licking off of his skin and tonguing into his mouth a mixture of fluids Michael probably didn’t want to know about. It made him moan around his brother’s tongue and ground their stomachs together. See, sometimes it was dirty. And when done right and meaningfully, dirty was quite hot and enticing.
* *
... “I love you.”
What does remain unsaid, though, is ‘... way too much, way too wrong for our sanity of mind’.
-End-
Comments are always welcome.
Out-takes/drafts (don’t fit with the rest)
“I like that pink shirt.” Michael kept smirking at him for two hours after Linc had negligently admitted that. Giggled like a fucking chick when Linc felt compelled to be precise that the shirt was “not really pink anyway, rather salmon.”
“Fuck weather forecast. Let’s go camping.” - “Looks like the weather is fucking us, now, big brother.