Prison Break - The Tighter Trap
Title: The Tighter Trap
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Lincoln, a hint of Michael/Sara
Category: Slash
Rating: R
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 630
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Lincoln knows Michael is telling the truth when he says that he loves them...
Author’s Note: Written for pbreak_drabbles - prompt: confined spaces. Also for rosie-spleen’s Bleeding Cuticles Challenge. Please note this may not paint Michael in the nicest way.
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
When Lincoln drove to Loyola to pick up Michael for the weekend and they ended up making out in the cramped space of Lincoln’s old car, it felt like being back in high school. Like being back with the girls Lincoln dated after he’d dropped out of high school, more accurately. He didn’t especially like the feeling. He did like Michael’s mouth on his neck and his hands in his pants - and vice-versa - though, so he put up with the situation.
* *
Lincoln wouldn’t say that Michael knew the classy elevator of his upscale building would stall mid-way. Nobody can predict this sort of incident, right? But the classy elevator of the upscale building stalled mid-way. Michael spent the next minutes humping Lincoln’s thigh and telling him in great detail how he’d bend over for him as soon as they got out of here. It took one hour. One fucking hour.
* *
The portable toilets of the construction site where Lincoln worked and Michael had showed up unexpectedly were small, dingy and stinking of stuff Lincoln didn’t want to think about. Nothing of that prevented Michael from getting on his knees for Lincoln, just as he’d got on his knees earlier that week, in the fancy restaurant he’d invited Linc to. At the restaurant, he’d teased and sucked Lincoln, not letting him come until he scratched at the clean white walls and uttered a grunt that the man taking a leak on the other side of the door, in the small open space, could hear. At least, Michael showed more mercy in those fucking toilets, and he made it hard and fast.
* *
In the pipe under the guards’ break room, while Sucre, T-Bag and C-Note were painting and working like good cons right above their heads? He almost couldn’t get it up. But Michael’s hands were so insistent, and his whispers so desperate, and Lincoln so determined to give him that in case the whole damn plan failed... It was humid and dark in there, with just a sliver of light filtering between the smashed ground and the rectangle of wood covering the hole. They couldn’t sit, they couldn’t stand; not a problem for Michael who wriggled and lay on his stomach between Lincoln’s legs.
* *
Until recently, Lincoln had never understood why that night in the janitor’s closet at his firm, Michael sweated and panted so much and so obviously fought an urge to throw up, all the while bossing Lincoln around, demanding to be fucked harder, deeper, faster - moremoremore. Lincoln isn’t the dainty kind, but he’s glad he never knew before how Michael felt about dark closets or he might have thrown up, back then. One of these days, when evoking the memory, it may actually happen to him.
* *
But in Sara’s boat in the warehouse, with the young woman sitting so close she’d just have to reach out to touch them... it takes the cake. She has one hand pressed to her mouth to bite down the bile and anger rising in her throat, and the other one is dangerously edging towards her crotch in unaware, unwelcome arousal. Michael wrenches his mouth from Lincoln’s and turns around to kiss Sara. He whispers against her skin that he loves her - loves them - so much.
Even though he’s not a man of metaphors, Lincoln is under no illusion about the reasons why Michael’s always liked to trap him in those places. He knows Michael is telling the truth when he says that he loves them. That’s the thing with Michael; he tells the truth about that stuff, and his love and his devotion are just another, tighter, perfect trap.
Lincoln’s under no illusion about Sara’s response either.
She lets out a pained gasp that morphs into a moan, and kisses Michael back.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.
Discarded snippet
Shower booths had always been borderline, even after Michael moved in his ridiculously huge and luxury loft, with its equally huge and luxury shower. Neither of them was exactly small or skinny, so fitting and moving within the few square feet of a shower never failed to arise some issues. But Michael smirked and brushed said issues aside with a careless gesture of hand and a luscious lick of tongue, and Lincoln shook his head and rolled with it.
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Lincoln, a hint of Michael/Sara
Category: Slash
Rating: R
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 630
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Lincoln knows Michael is telling the truth when he says that he loves them...
Author’s Note: Written for pbreak_drabbles - prompt: confined spaces. Also for rosie-spleen’s Bleeding Cuticles Challenge. Please note this may not paint Michael in the nicest way.
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
When Lincoln drove to Loyola to pick up Michael for the weekend and they ended up making out in the cramped space of Lincoln’s old car, it felt like being back in high school. Like being back with the girls Lincoln dated after he’d dropped out of high school, more accurately. He didn’t especially like the feeling. He did like Michael’s mouth on his neck and his hands in his pants - and vice-versa - though, so he put up with the situation.
* *
Lincoln wouldn’t say that Michael knew the classy elevator of his upscale building would stall mid-way. Nobody can predict this sort of incident, right? But the classy elevator of the upscale building stalled mid-way. Michael spent the next minutes humping Lincoln’s thigh and telling him in great detail how he’d bend over for him as soon as they got out of here. It took one hour. One fucking hour.
* *
The portable toilets of the construction site where Lincoln worked and Michael had showed up unexpectedly were small, dingy and stinking of stuff Lincoln didn’t want to think about. Nothing of that prevented Michael from getting on his knees for Lincoln, just as he’d got on his knees earlier that week, in the fancy restaurant he’d invited Linc to. At the restaurant, he’d teased and sucked Lincoln, not letting him come until he scratched at the clean white walls and uttered a grunt that the man taking a leak on the other side of the door, in the small open space, could hear. At least, Michael showed more mercy in those fucking toilets, and he made it hard and fast.
* *
In the pipe under the guards’ break room, while Sucre, T-Bag and C-Note were painting and working like good cons right above their heads? He almost couldn’t get it up. But Michael’s hands were so insistent, and his whispers so desperate, and Lincoln so determined to give him that in case the whole damn plan failed... It was humid and dark in there, with just a sliver of light filtering between the smashed ground and the rectangle of wood covering the hole. They couldn’t sit, they couldn’t stand; not a problem for Michael who wriggled and lay on his stomach between Lincoln’s legs.
* *
Until recently, Lincoln had never understood why that night in the janitor’s closet at his firm, Michael sweated and panted so much and so obviously fought an urge to throw up, all the while bossing Lincoln around, demanding to be fucked harder, deeper, faster - moremoremore. Lincoln isn’t the dainty kind, but he’s glad he never knew before how Michael felt about dark closets or he might have thrown up, back then. One of these days, when evoking the memory, it may actually happen to him.
* *
But in Sara’s boat in the warehouse, with the young woman sitting so close she’d just have to reach out to touch them... it takes the cake. She has one hand pressed to her mouth to bite down the bile and anger rising in her throat, and the other one is dangerously edging towards her crotch in unaware, unwelcome arousal. Michael wrenches his mouth from Lincoln’s and turns around to kiss Sara. He whispers against her skin that he loves her - loves them - so much.
Even though he’s not a man of metaphors, Lincoln is under no illusion about the reasons why Michael’s always liked to trap him in those places. He knows Michael is telling the truth when he says that he loves them. That’s the thing with Michael; he tells the truth about that stuff, and his love and his devotion are just another, tighter, perfect trap.
Lincoln’s under no illusion about Sara’s response either.
She lets out a pained gasp that morphs into a moan, and kisses Michael back.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.
Discarded snippet
Shower booths had always been borderline, even after Michael moved in his ridiculously huge and luxury loft, with its equally huge and luxury shower. Neither of them was exactly small or skinny, so fitting and moving within the few square feet of a shower never failed to arise some issues. But Michael smirked and brushed said issues aside with a careless gesture of hand and a luscious lick of tongue, and Lincoln shook his head and rolled with it.