Fic: Steam
Title: Steam
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash, SlashSlash (3some), PWP, Brothercest
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Lincoln/Sucre
Summary: Blowing off steam has never been this cramped.
Warning: If you have any moral objection to just about anything, don't read this. There's man on man sex, there's brothers fucking one another, there's hintings of prison desperation and what that leads to. If that makes you hot and bothered, read on. Otherwise, there are lots of really good gen fics out there.
Author's Notes: Fic #2 for foxriver_fic February challenge:
- Prompt: #2 - the backseat of a car on a hot day
- Pairing: 3SOME: Michael/Lincoln/Sucre
I just had to. I saw the prompt, and had just read the pairings, and throwing these three together in the back seat of a car was
just too good to pass up.
After the fact, they could never figure out how they managed to fit.
It started out comfortably enough... Michael and Sucre were cuddling in the back seat of the car Michael had stashed in storage. Neither of them could believe they were free-- but they both knew they had a long way to go.
"Hey, papi, do you have any idea how much I'm going to miss you? I love Maricruz and all... but she... doesn't do it like you do," Sucre confessed.
Michael laughed softly, and Sucre felt his insides melt. And maybe harden a little too. "Sucre, we were in prison... We were blowing off steam. When you get back and see Maricruz again, you'll forget all about me and the hanging the sheet."
"What if I don't want to?"
Sucre sat up a little and turned around to kiss Michael. Of its own accord, his hand left his side and alighted atop Michael's head, caressing the short-cropped hair and smooth skin he had grown to know so well during their stint as cell-mates.
"You will. Trust me."
Sucre didn't want to think about that right now. They'd been too busy before the escape and too wound up to even think about sex-- but now that they were free and out of any immediate danger, his libido was back in full force.
Sucre's hand left the smoothness of Michael's neck behind and wandered down the front of the tight, black wife-beater that had been driving Sucre crazy all morning and inched it up so it could explore the tightly muscled chest it so selfishly obscured.
Sucre leaned in and kissed Michael before he could half-heartedly object. Michael's lips parted easily, and his stomach recoiled briefly as Sucre's slightly chilly fingers made their ascent. The sharp intake of breath when Sucre brushed his tender, half-hard nipple made Sucre smile into his kiss. He reorganized his limbs so that he was straddling his former cell mate without breaking the kiss, and couldn't help but be proud of himself. The first time he and Michael had come together in their cell, he had been so awkward and had almost fallen out of the bunk. Twice, he admitted to himself.
Sucre reached back down to the waist of Michael's jeans with his free hand, and ran his fingers around the muscular waist, just inside the elastic of Michael's white boxers. He felt his cellmate squirm beneath him. Michael never had enjoyed prolonged teasing, which is why Sucre enjoyed doing it so thoroughly.
Without warning and in perfect unison, Michael's hands flew to the back of Sucre's neck and the small of his back, pulling Sucre closer to him and turning them over so that Sucre was now pinned against the seat. Michael's hands expertly removed the Puerto Rican's shorts, and he began to trace a line from Sucre's jaw down to his waiting hardness with his mouth.
Sucre and Michael were so caught up in the heat of the moment-- and the heat of the afternoon sun-- that neither of them noticed when the passenger side door opened and Lincoln peered in at them. Lincoln stood there for a minute in a mix of surprise and lust, and when neither of them took any notice of him, decided to join in on the fun.
Lincoln quickly folded the seat forward and climbed into the car, placing his mouth over Sucre's quietly moaning lips and burying his tongue in the surprised con's throat. Sucre kissed back for the briefest instant before his eyes flew open and he began to choke with surprise. At his sudden movement, Michael began to raise his head, only to have it pressed back into Sucre's musky groin by his brother's strong hand. His surprise was brief... He and Lincoln had shared a girl more than once when Michael had come home from college and partied with his brother, why should it be any different with a guy?
Sucre's surprise gave way to elation as he kissed the other brother. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever have hoped to have both brothers attending to his needs, let alone at the same time. When Michael's tongue traced its way down the length of his cock and his finger found its way inside him, Sucre felt himself fly over the edge with unimaginable force. Ropes of come coated his body, even finding their way onto the side of Lincoln's face. As he relaxed into the rough cushions and closed his eyes, he felt two pairs of lips both making their way toward his waiting nipples, and from there towards one another.
Sucre opened his eyes quickly when he realized what was about to happen. Lincoln had crammed himself into the car, and had his back braced against the driver's seat, leaning over the other pair of inmates. His brain registered what was happening as the brothers' lips met in an intensely deep, passionate kiss that began to stir Sucre all over again. Even thinking back on it later, Sucre had no idea how the pair managed to ditch their remaining clothes without breaking that kiss, but somehow it had happened. Lincoln's mouth left his brother's then, and began to trace a line along his jaw, across his shoulder, and down his back.
Michael arched into the attention and moved himself up to be supported above Sucre so his brother would have room between him and the window. Sucre's view of the rest of the encounter was blocked by Michael's face, but it was pretty clear what was going on. He was already spent, but he wasted no time in locking lips with the heavily tatooed adonis hovering above him, tasting the moans and growls as if they were honey. As the bucking and sliding above him reached a fever pitch, his hand-- again of its own accord-- found its way to the raging hardness swinging betweeen Michael's heavily muscled legs. It took no more than a few strokes, and Michael's body was clenching and racking above him, their combined sweat making the space between them burn with humid lust. With a husky cry, the eldest brother came as the muscles in his brother's contorting body carried him over the edge. His last coherent thought prompted him to lean enough to the side that when he collapsed in a fit of bliss, he would not crush the two men beneath him.
---
It was a long time before any of them moved. The day had already begun to cool, a breeze finding its way into the car through the still-open passenger side door. Michael had slid off of Sucre to curl up in the strong, protecting arms of his brother in the impossibly small space in front of the bench seats.
Sucre finally sat up and looked out the window. Somewhere out there, Maricruz was waiting for him. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe he would be able to forget about the intricately tattoed man and how he knew all of the right ways to make Sucre happy, both in the privacy of their cell during the darkest watches of the night and when they were simply fighting to live and keep their sanity. But one thing was sure-- Sucre had no place in this car. There was just not enough room.
Comments are like a pint of Ben&Jerry's... They make life worth living, and are greatly appreciated.
After the fact, they could never figure out how they managed to fit.
It started out comfortably enough... Michael and Sucre were cuddling in the back seat of the car Michael had stashed in storage. Neither of them could believe they were free-- but they both knew they had a long way to go.
"Hey, papi, do you have any idea how much I'm going to miss you? I love Maricruz and all... but she... doesn't do it like you do," Sucre confessed.
Michael laughed softly, and Sucre felt his insides melt. And maybe harden a little too. "Sucre, we were in prison... We were blowing off steam. When you get back and see Maricruz again, you'll forget all about me and the hanging the sheet."
"What if I don't want to?"
Sucre sat up a little and turned around to kiss Michael. Of its own accord, his hand left his side and alighted atop Michael's head, caressing the short-cropped hair and smooth skin he had grown to know so well during their stint as cell-mates.
"You will. Trust me."
Sucre didn't want to think about that right now. They'd been too busy before the escape and too wound up to even think about sex-- but now that they were free and out of any immediate danger, his libido was back in full force.
Sucre's hand left the smoothness of Michael's neck behind and wandered down the front of the tight, black wife-beater that had been driving Sucre crazy all morning and inched it up so it could explore the tightly muscled chest it so selfishly obscured.
Sucre leaned in and kissed Michael before he could half-heartedly object. Michael's lips parted easily, and his stomach recoiled briefly as Sucre's slightly chilly fingers made their ascent. The sharp intake of breath when Sucre brushed his tender, half-hard nipple made Sucre smile into his kiss. He reorganized his limbs so that he was straddling his former cell mate without breaking the kiss, and couldn't help but be proud of himself. The first time he and Michael had come together in their cell, he had been so awkward and had almost fallen out of the bunk. Twice, he admitted to himself.
Sucre reached back down to the waist of Michael's jeans with his free hand, and ran his fingers around the muscular waist, just inside the elastic of Michael's white boxers. He felt his cellmate squirm beneath him. Michael never had enjoyed prolonged teasing, which is why Sucre enjoyed doing it so thoroughly.
Without warning and in perfect unison, Michael's hands flew to the back of Sucre's neck and the small of his back, pulling Sucre closer to him and turning them over so that Sucre was now pinned against the seat. Michael's hands expertly removed the Puerto Rican's shorts, and he began to trace a line from Sucre's jaw down to his waiting hardness with his mouth.
Sucre and Michael were so caught up in the heat of the moment-- and the heat of the afternoon sun-- that neither of them noticed when the passenger side door opened and Lincoln peered in at them. Lincoln stood there for a minute in a mix of surprise and lust, and when neither of them took any notice of him, decided to join in on the fun.
Lincoln quickly folded the seat forward and climbed into the car, placing his mouth over Sucre's quietly moaning lips and burying his tongue in the surprised con's throat. Sucre kissed back for the briefest instant before his eyes flew open and he began to choke with surprise. At his sudden movement, Michael began to raise his head, only to have it pressed back into Sucre's musky groin by his brother's strong hand. His surprise was brief... He and Lincoln had shared a girl more than once when Michael had come home from college and partied with his brother, why should it be any different with a guy?
Sucre's surprise gave way to elation as he kissed the other brother. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever have hoped to have both brothers attending to his needs, let alone at the same time. When Michael's tongue traced its way down the length of his cock and his finger found its way inside him, Sucre felt himself fly over the edge with unimaginable force. Ropes of come coated his body, even finding their way onto the side of Lincoln's face. As he relaxed into the rough cushions and closed his eyes, he felt two pairs of lips both making their way toward his waiting nipples, and from there towards one another.
Sucre opened his eyes quickly when he realized what was about to happen. Lincoln had crammed himself into the car, and had his back braced against the driver's seat, leaning over the other pair of inmates. His brain registered what was happening as the brothers' lips met in an intensely deep, passionate kiss that began to stir Sucre all over again. Even thinking back on it later, Sucre had no idea how the pair managed to ditch their remaining clothes without breaking that kiss, but somehow it had happened. Lincoln's mouth left his brother's then, and began to trace a line along his jaw, across his shoulder, and down his back.
Michael arched into the attention and moved himself up to be supported above Sucre so his brother would have room between him and the window. Sucre's view of the rest of the encounter was blocked by Michael's face, but it was pretty clear what was going on. He was already spent, but he wasted no time in locking lips with the heavily tatooed adonis hovering above him, tasting the moans and growls as if they were honey. As the bucking and sliding above him reached a fever pitch, his hand-- again of its own accord-- found its way to the raging hardness swinging betweeen Michael's heavily muscled legs. It took no more than a few strokes, and Michael's body was clenching and racking above him, their combined sweat making the space between them burn with humid lust. With a husky cry, the eldest brother came as the muscles in his brother's contorting body carried him over the edge. His last coherent thought prompted him to lean enough to the side that when he collapsed in a fit of bliss, he would not crush the two men beneath him.
---
It was a long time before any of them moved. The day had already begun to cool, a breeze finding its way into the car through the still-open passenger side door. Michael had slid off of Sucre to curl up in the strong, protecting arms of his brother in the impossibly small space in front of the bench seats.
Sucre finally sat up and looked out the window. Somewhere out there, Maricruz was waiting for him. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe he would be able to forget about the intricately tattoed man and how he knew all of the right ways to make Sucre happy, both in the privacy of their cell during the darkest watches of the night and when they were simply fighting to live and keep their sanity. But one thing was sure-- Sucre had no place in this car. There was just not enough room.
Comments are like a pint of Ben&Jerry's... They make life worth living, and are greatly appreciated.