Prison Break - Feeling like a Honeymoon
Title: Feeling like a Honeymoon
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Sara/Lincoln
Categories: Het, slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1290
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This was like a honeymoon - though a three-way one - and they’d never had a honeymoon, had they? (Post-series, alternate canon)
Author’s note: Let’s say this is set in the Secretive ‘verse.
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
The light in the bedroom was low and golden red, courtesy of the fireplace, Sara warm and tight around him, Lincoln’s eyes heavy and complicit on the nape of his neck. Michael moved oh so slowly, his idle shifting met with Sara’s equally idle movements. They were lax and relaxed, rested and exhausted at the same time.
Save for short bathroom breaks and kitchen raids, they hadn’t left the bed for three days, so you would excuse him if he hadn’t more energy despite Sara’s kisses and breathy moans and Lincoln’s whispers of encouragement.
It had all started because Sara was cold, Michael, helpful, and Lincoln, Lincoln.
* * *
First visit to the US in a few years. They were here to ski, except that Lincoln couldn’t ski to save his life and a snowstorm made the pistes impracticable six hours after they’d arrived anyway.
That was how they ended up cut off from pretty much anything looking remotely like civilization, stuck in their small cabin with enough food and wood to withstand a siege, large beds and a fireplace, blowing winds and fat snowflakes sticking to the windows.
Lincoln threw a log in the fireplace, plopped down into the couch, and stated this was so much better than skiing. This was like a honeymoon - though a three-way one - and they’d never had a honeymoon, had they?
Michael wasn’t sure you were supposed to have a honeymoon when you lived in a ménage à trois with your brother, but whatever.
It was rather innocent, at first. They spent a whole day in bed with soups and tea, cookies and a T-bone steak ‘cause Linc needed his helping of red meat. Lazing, sleeping, chatting, cuddling under the blankets and into each other because the freezing cold wind managed to slip through the windows and the curtains.
Really, it was only to keep Sara warm that Michael deftly rolled her onto her back in the middle of the bed and parted her legs; that Lincoln lay on his flank, head propped up on his fist, and watched; that after Sara was done, Lincoln fucked Michael into the mattress under her tired yet interested eyes; that they made love a few more times in a variety of combinations and positions until they fell asleep in a heap of limbs and soft snoring. Nothing new, it happened every now and then, that debauchery of love and lust.
What was incredibly self-indulgent, though, was to do it again the next day. And the next one. Until Sara didn’t care anymore that her hair was plastered to her sweaty back, until they stumbled rather than walked to the bathroom to clean up and shower, until Lincoln shamelessly announced, “I think my dick is chaffed.”
Michael kissed it and made it worse, but yeah, no complaints from Lincoln.
* * *
Sara was straddling him now, swaying gently above him, her eyes half-closed and with barely enough energy left to keep going. He tugged her down and kissed her - only to have Lincoln move near them, lift her up, shift her above Michael. He felt the silk of inner thighs and the relative cold of the air on him where, a second ago, there was tight and wet heat, and he cursed at Lincoln in indignation.
Sara gasped against his mouth and writhed above him. Didn’t need to think hard to understand what Lincoln had just done, the asshole. Over her head, Michael threw Linc a glance that would have been nasty if he’d been just a little less fucked out, and grumbled, “Seriously, Linc?” Epitome of bad manners, his brother.
“You weren’t going anywhere with her, man,” was Lincoln’s quiet non-apology.
Michael considered protesting more vehemently for about ten seconds and ruled against it. Partly because the way Lincoln was moving into her obviously felt good for Sara - about-to-come-and-it-would-melt-her-down good. And partly because from his supine position, he could see both of them moving above him, both glistening with sweat and out of breath, Lincoln’s knees pressed into his thighs as he was taking Sara from behind, Sara’s breasts brushing over his chest and the tip of his own erection rubbing against her stomach with each pull-in and pull-out. And, let’s be honest, it wasn’t a bad sight. It was also a rather good position to slide a hand down Sara’s body and between her thighs and stroke just where Lincoln and she were joined.
They rewarded him. With moans and expletives and the tight coiling of their bodies first. Then, when they had gathered their wits, with their mouths lazily and mercilessly descending on him.
Now, don’t get him wrong, he was worn-out; his muscles ached, his limbs felt like rubber and his lips were sore and swollen from so many kisses. But. But their faces were hovering over his stomach, their mouths brushing one another’s - and brushing his erection in the process - their tongues doing things that he wouldn’t even try to describe. So despite his exhaustion, he found it in him to lean up on his elbows and watch. Tenderly, he curled a hand around Sara’s head and let the soft strands of her hair slip through his fingers - only to have his wrist slapped by Lincoln.
“Holding her while she...? That’s just rude, Mike.”
And yet lifting her off him to take his place and fuck her was perfectly acceptable, to both Linc and Sara. He reminded his brother of that fact.
To teach him a lesson, Lincoln dragged his teeth up Michael’s shaft, the touch superficial but intense and threatening enough to make him buck in apprehension and arousal. And to make him come, because apparently, he was twisted and worked up enough that the hinted danger tipped him over the edge, his pleasure seeping into Sara’s mouth and onto Lincoln’s face in short bursts. It was almost painful, after the interruption and the wait and what felt like his hundredth climax of the last couple of days. He seized as Sara sucked hard on the tip and Lincoln licked and kissed and...
They leaned into him and kept up their ministrations, coaxing him through his release until he was done thrashing around and spilling. They kissed, then, deep and wanton, and Michael felt like he was coming again just a little bit from the sight and the idea of what they were sharing.
“That was rude too,” Lincoln chastised when Sara let him go and shimmied up Michael’s body to snuggle into him. “You’re supposed to give a fair warning when you’re about to... you know.”
“You’re a jackass,” Michael stated lazily, nuzzling into Sara’s neck and under her hair. “And she started it; she should be ready to face the consequences.”
Sara quirked an eyebrow. “I started it?”
“You were cold. I just meant to warm you up.”
“I’m very warmed up now,” she admitted with a smirk. “Thank you.”
“You’re no better than him.” He pointed a finger at Lincoln.
“Considering what happened three minutes ago, I’d say we’re both pretty amazing.”
Lincoln all but high-fived her and settled against Michael’s left side, not without planting a wet kiss behind his ear first. Goose-bumps traveled throughout Michael’s body. Lincoln knew him inside and out, knew how to make him tick and shake even when it felt like he couldn’t take anything anymore. Sara smoothed her hand over his torso until the shivers subsided.
Lincoln was being Lincoln, Sara was warmer than warm, and Michael was satisfactorily helpless between them. The cabin was an out-of-the-way cocoon smelling like firewood, sex and languor. Not that Michael would admit it, but maybe, just maybe Lincoln had it right: it felt like a honeymoon, one of the decadent, filled with the craziest love, kind.
FIN
--Feedback in any shape or form is always welcomed and appreciated :)
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Sara/Lincoln
Categories: Het, slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1290
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This was like a honeymoon - though a three-way one - and they’d never had a honeymoon, had they? (Post-series, alternate canon)
Author’s note: Let’s say this is set in the Secretive ‘verse.
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
The light in the bedroom was low and golden red, courtesy of the fireplace, Sara warm and tight around him, Lincoln’s eyes heavy and complicit on the nape of his neck. Michael moved oh so slowly, his idle shifting met with Sara’s equally idle movements. They were lax and relaxed, rested and exhausted at the same time.
Save for short bathroom breaks and kitchen raids, they hadn’t left the bed for three days, so you would excuse him if he hadn’t more energy despite Sara’s kisses and breathy moans and Lincoln’s whispers of encouragement.
It had all started because Sara was cold, Michael, helpful, and Lincoln, Lincoln.
* * *
First visit to the US in a few years. They were here to ski, except that Lincoln couldn’t ski to save his life and a snowstorm made the pistes impracticable six hours after they’d arrived anyway.
That was how they ended up cut off from pretty much anything looking remotely like civilization, stuck in their small cabin with enough food and wood to withstand a siege, large beds and a fireplace, blowing winds and fat snowflakes sticking to the windows.
Lincoln threw a log in the fireplace, plopped down into the couch, and stated this was so much better than skiing. This was like a honeymoon - though a three-way one - and they’d never had a honeymoon, had they?
Michael wasn’t sure you were supposed to have a honeymoon when you lived in a ménage à trois with your brother, but whatever.
It was rather innocent, at first. They spent a whole day in bed with soups and tea, cookies and a T-bone steak ‘cause Linc needed his helping of red meat. Lazing, sleeping, chatting, cuddling under the blankets and into each other because the freezing cold wind managed to slip through the windows and the curtains.
Really, it was only to keep Sara warm that Michael deftly rolled her onto her back in the middle of the bed and parted her legs; that Lincoln lay on his flank, head propped up on his fist, and watched; that after Sara was done, Lincoln fucked Michael into the mattress under her tired yet interested eyes; that they made love a few more times in a variety of combinations and positions until they fell asleep in a heap of limbs and soft snoring. Nothing new, it happened every now and then, that debauchery of love and lust.
What was incredibly self-indulgent, though, was to do it again the next day. And the next one. Until Sara didn’t care anymore that her hair was plastered to her sweaty back, until they stumbled rather than walked to the bathroom to clean up and shower, until Lincoln shamelessly announced, “I think my dick is chaffed.”
Michael kissed it and made it worse, but yeah, no complaints from Lincoln.
* * *
Sara was straddling him now, swaying gently above him, her eyes half-closed and with barely enough energy left to keep going. He tugged her down and kissed her - only to have Lincoln move near them, lift her up, shift her above Michael. He felt the silk of inner thighs and the relative cold of the air on him where, a second ago, there was tight and wet heat, and he cursed at Lincoln in indignation.
Sara gasped against his mouth and writhed above him. Didn’t need to think hard to understand what Lincoln had just done, the asshole. Over her head, Michael threw Linc a glance that would have been nasty if he’d been just a little less fucked out, and grumbled, “Seriously, Linc?” Epitome of bad manners, his brother.
“You weren’t going anywhere with her, man,” was Lincoln’s quiet non-apology.
Michael considered protesting more vehemently for about ten seconds and ruled against it. Partly because the way Lincoln was moving into her obviously felt good for Sara - about-to-come-and-it-would-melt-her-down good. And partly because from his supine position, he could see both of them moving above him, both glistening with sweat and out of breath, Lincoln’s knees pressed into his thighs as he was taking Sara from behind, Sara’s breasts brushing over his chest and the tip of his own erection rubbing against her stomach with each pull-in and pull-out. And, let’s be honest, it wasn’t a bad sight. It was also a rather good position to slide a hand down Sara’s body and between her thighs and stroke just where Lincoln and she were joined.
They rewarded him. With moans and expletives and the tight coiling of their bodies first. Then, when they had gathered their wits, with their mouths lazily and mercilessly descending on him.
Now, don’t get him wrong, he was worn-out; his muscles ached, his limbs felt like rubber and his lips were sore and swollen from so many kisses. But. But their faces were hovering over his stomach, their mouths brushing one another’s - and brushing his erection in the process - their tongues doing things that he wouldn’t even try to describe. So despite his exhaustion, he found it in him to lean up on his elbows and watch. Tenderly, he curled a hand around Sara’s head and let the soft strands of her hair slip through his fingers - only to have his wrist slapped by Lincoln.
“Holding her while she...? That’s just rude, Mike.”
And yet lifting her off him to take his place and fuck her was perfectly acceptable, to both Linc and Sara. He reminded his brother of that fact.
To teach him a lesson, Lincoln dragged his teeth up Michael’s shaft, the touch superficial but intense and threatening enough to make him buck in apprehension and arousal. And to make him come, because apparently, he was twisted and worked up enough that the hinted danger tipped him over the edge, his pleasure seeping into Sara’s mouth and onto Lincoln’s face in short bursts. It was almost painful, after the interruption and the wait and what felt like his hundredth climax of the last couple of days. He seized as Sara sucked hard on the tip and Lincoln licked and kissed and...
They leaned into him and kept up their ministrations, coaxing him through his release until he was done thrashing around and spilling. They kissed, then, deep and wanton, and Michael felt like he was coming again just a little bit from the sight and the idea of what they were sharing.
“That was rude too,” Lincoln chastised when Sara let him go and shimmied up Michael’s body to snuggle into him. “You’re supposed to give a fair warning when you’re about to... you know.”
“You’re a jackass,” Michael stated lazily, nuzzling into Sara’s neck and under her hair. “And she started it; she should be ready to face the consequences.”
Sara quirked an eyebrow. “I started it?”
“You were cold. I just meant to warm you up.”
“I’m very warmed up now,” she admitted with a smirk. “Thank you.”
“You’re no better than him.” He pointed a finger at Lincoln.
“Considering what happened three minutes ago, I’d say we’re both pretty amazing.”
Lincoln all but high-fived her and settled against Michael’s left side, not without planting a wet kiss behind his ear first. Goose-bumps traveled throughout Michael’s body. Lincoln knew him inside and out, knew how to make him tick and shake even when it felt like he couldn’t take anything anymore. Sara smoothed her hand over his torso until the shivers subsided.
Lincoln was being Lincoln, Sara was warmer than warm, and Michael was satisfactorily helpless between them. The cabin was an out-of-the-way cocoon smelling like firewood, sex and languor. Not that Michael would admit it, but maybe, just maybe Lincoln had it right: it felt like a honeymoon, one of the decadent, filled with the craziest love, kind.
FIN
--Feedback in any shape or form is always welcomed and appreciated :)