Fic: Twist
Title:Twist
Author:EtherealFlaim
Genre:Het, AU, PWP
Fandom:Prison Break
Characters:Lincoln/Gretchin(Susan)
Summary:Susan really knows how to play the brothers. But who is playing whom?
Author's Notes:Fic #4 for the foxriver_fic February Challenge
Pairing: HET: Lincoln/Gretchin (o.0 o.0)
Prompt: #4 - a strand of hair and a promise
She hated every minute of it. Her mask weighed her down like a sack of rocks in a river. She knew she could never let anyone see through her mask, or they would stop taking her seriously, and The Company would punish her severely for her epic failure.
Eventually, though, all masks crack and someone sees through. She hated herself even more for it, but she even managed to find a way to turn this to her advantage.
---
The sheets were cold when Lincoln climbed between them, but he knew his warm, shirtless body would change that quickly. The cold stare she was giving him, however, would take a lot more to soften.
"What did you tell him?" Susan asked. He hated it when she spoke to him so hatefully. He knew it was an act. He wished she didn't have to use it on him, too.
"I told him that Sara was dead. He didn't ask how, so I didn't have to lie about seeing her head in a box. LJ is also convinced that you killed her. I'm starting to wonder if you're not lying to me just so you can keep sleeping with me." The thoughts about double double double crossing started to make Lincoln's head hurt, so he stopped and waited for Susan to reply.
Her lips curled up malevolently, and she reached to the bedside table and removed a small box that was sitting there. She handed it to Lincoln.
Well, at least it's not big enough for a head... Lincoln thought without too much reassurance.
Inside the box was a picture. It was obviously a self-shot of Sara on a beach somewhere, holding a newspaper in her lap and smiling. Below the polaroid was a lock of hair, wrapped around a small, folded paper rose. Inside the rose was a note:
Lincoln, Michael, LJ,
They let me go. I didn't know if it was a trap, but I haven't seen anyone following me. I'm safe now, and they don't know where I am. When you get Whistler out, if they let you free, come find me. I'll be waiting, I promise.
Sara
Lincoln peered closer at the picture, and saw that the date on the picture was only three days passed, which was almost a week after Susan had made a show of dragging Sara from LJ's room with a tarp, a saw, and bleach. It wasn't proof, per-se, but it at least gave Lincoln hope. He put everything back in the little box and set it carefully down on his side of the bed, intending to keep it.
"Why did you let her go?" Lincoln asked. Figuring out people was his brother's sport, not his.
"That's simple, Lincoln. If LJ and Michael think she's dead, they'll be even more scared of what I'm capable of. The more scared of me they are, the more well-behaved they are. You will remain well-behaved as long as I still have your son, because you know that I really won't hesitate to torture him in front of you if you try to double cross me. You've been good so far about telling me everything and leaving the others to think I'm in the dark, but my insurance policy is still locked in the room in the basement."
Lincoln knew she was right. Seeing LJ tied up in a shipping crate was terrible... At least now he was comfortable and sleeping in a real bed, even if he was a prisoner in that small, well-furnished room. He would do anything in his power to keep him alive and as comfortable as possible.
Lincoln's hand moved slowly to the side of her face. When he brushed her cheek, he saw her cold eyes brighten momentarily. "If you made good on even half of your dire promises, Susan, I would leave your bed and never come back to it. You need to stop making promises to me that you have no intention of keeping." The last words were breathed into her ear, and Lincoln moved in the last inch or so to nuzzle into the soft, surprisingly warm skin of her neck.
---
He was only half-right, she knew. She would do everything within her power to help these people get out from under the thumb of The Company, including letting Sara escape--not that she couldn't find her again if she absolutely had to. Something about killing Sara a second time could be exactly the tool she would need to break Michael Scoffield down if he tried to thwart her plans yet again. But she did make too many idle threats to the only man who had ever seen her crack. The only man who she had ever allowed herself to open up to... the only man she had ever--
Don't go down that path... She thought, contemptuously. Love is weak. Look at Michael and Lincoln, they are so easily to manipulate because they can love. You lost that luxury a long time ago, this is no time to go back.
She felt herself melting little by little as Lincoln's gentle biting, kissing progression down her stomach continued. His hot breath sending ripples of goosebumps across her tone abdomen, penetrating deeper to thaw the part of her that only ever showed itself here, between the sheets. As he slipped past her navel, she felt herself arch into the welcome pleasure, willing him to go further. Lincoln's hands, however, took over and slid their way back up to cup her breasts, as his mouth took the opportunity to make swirling circles around her ready nipples. When he paused to take a well-earned breath of cool air, she reached to his chin with one of her long manicured fingers and drew him in for a kiss. He settled down on the bed next to her as his kisses became more insistent. First shallow, exploring every inch of her lips and teeth with his velvet, skilled tongue. Then deeper, to wrestle with her tongue before suddenly withdrawing, coaxing her tongue into his mouth. He tasted sweet, and warm, and comforting. His kisses were relaxed, and tasting his breath seemed to calm her to the very core of her being.
She felt a salty intrusion at the edge of their kiss, and drew Lincoln's finger into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment before turning her attention back to the origin of the sleek, sexy voice that threatened at all times to draw her from behind her mask. She shivered slightly against his warm, muscular body as she felt that cold finger trace its way down her body, to come to a rest between her legs. In all the times they had been together in this bed, it had never been much more than casual sex, and as pleasure exploded between her legs, she knew that this time was going to be different. She would give herself to him completely, utterly, and irrevocably; her mask cast completely aside in the heat of passion.
---
He felt it when she broke, when her body went from pressing against him out of desire to clinging to his for warmth and completion. He opened his eyes, and gazed into the brilliant, vulnerable, beautiful green eyes of a woman could not possibly still be Susan. Her face was softened, her hair flowed more freely, her smile was genuine and her breath was shallow. As he watched, he saw her eyes twinkle mischievously and she was rolling him onto his back and straddling him, the white sheets still clinging to her, reminding him painfully of how angelic Veronica used to look when she slept beneath the sheets beside him.
All thoughts not Oh..., Yes!, God, that feels wonderful. or Where did she learn that? were soon banished from Lincoln's head as Susan bent down to his chest, her mouth and her hands working their way down his body... composing a symphony of pleasure on his muscular, sweat-soaked skin.
He was used to the games, used to halting his desire and keeping control while every part of him but the part that wanted it most was worshipped, licked, teased. He controlled his breathing and enjoyed every sensation as her fingers massaged his inner thigh and her tongue bathed his abdomen, encircling his waiting manhood with the pleasure of torment. He even had a moment to wonder what was happening before his body imploded with ecstasy, shot through with surprise as a single, slender wet finger plunged unmercifully into a cavern of pleasure he had never known existed. Before he came down from this intense high, she had enveloped him with her warm, moist lips and was methodically licking, caressing, lightly teething the entire length of him and taking him fully inside her as he arched into her. When he was harder and hotter than he could remember being since he had made love to Veronica (/Stop that, Lincoln... now is NOT the time/), he drew her face up to his and kissed her delicately as his strong arms brought her beneath him, expertly aligning himself over her and entering her in a single, smooth motion. The rhythm he adopted soon brought quiet moans and happy sighs from the lips beneath his, and her body arched into his involuntarily, as if drawn there by magnetic compulsion.
As her body neared her climax his lithe movements became arrhythmic, filling her partially before rocking back, angling his thrusts to pinpoint every quivering node of pleasure within her, with just enough friction to keep her firmly rooted in his rutting. Her third climax caught him off guard, and the spontaneous wracking of her body provided the final push that Lincoln himself needed. A low purring moan escaped him, muffled by the still kissing tongue in his mouth as his body shook and carried him though the orgasm.
---
As the stars and shapes faded from her eyes, she breathed a sigh of contentment, and hugged herself a little tighter against Lincoln's comforting heat. As his breathing slowed, she slid her fingers between them to extricate his softening body from hers. As she held him in her hand, she marveled at the heat and weight which could so skillfully rob her of every protection with which she shrouded herself. As the quiet moments stretched on further, she felt the cold chill of her mask slowly enveloping her heart, inch by inch. As her fortress of ice completed its encasement, she knew: this might only be sex for him--really hot sex, she was sure--but she knew that to her, if only she could ever admit it, it meant more. Comments are like unexpected rays of sunlight, warming my heart, making the day worthwhile.
Pairing: HET: Lincoln/Gretchin (o.0 o.0)
Prompt: #4 - a strand of hair and a promise
She hated every minute of it. Her mask weighed her down like a sack of rocks in a river. She knew she could never let anyone see through her mask, or they would stop taking her seriously, and The Company would punish her severely for her epic failure.
Eventually, though, all masks crack and someone sees through. She hated herself even more for it, but she even managed to find a way to turn this to her advantage.
---
The sheets were cold when Lincoln climbed between them, but he knew his warm, shirtless body would change that quickly. The cold stare she was giving him, however, would take a lot more to soften.
"What did you tell him?" Susan asked. He hated it when she spoke to him so hatefully. He knew it was an act. He wished she didn't have to use it on him, too.
"I told him that Sara was dead. He didn't ask how, so I didn't have to lie about seeing her head in a box. LJ is also convinced that you killed her. I'm starting to wonder if you're not lying to me just so you can keep sleeping with me." The thoughts about double double double crossing started to make Lincoln's head hurt, so he stopped and waited for Susan to reply.
Her lips curled up malevolently, and she reached to the bedside table and removed a small box that was sitting there. She handed it to Lincoln.
Well, at least it's not big enough for a head... Lincoln thought without too much reassurance.
Inside the box was a picture. It was obviously a self-shot of Sara on a beach somewhere, holding a newspaper in her lap and smiling. Below the polaroid was a lock of hair, wrapped around a small, folded paper rose. Inside the rose was a note:
Lincoln, Michael, LJ,
They let me go. I didn't know if it was a trap, but I haven't seen anyone following me. I'm safe now, and they don't know where I am. When you get Whistler out, if they let you free, come find me. I'll be waiting, I promise.
Sara
Lincoln peered closer at the picture, and saw that the date on the picture was only three days passed, which was almost a week after Susan had made a show of dragging Sara from LJ's room with a tarp, a saw, and bleach. It wasn't proof, per-se, but it at least gave Lincoln hope. He put everything back in the little box and set it carefully down on his side of the bed, intending to keep it.
"Why did you let her go?" Lincoln asked. Figuring out people was his brother's sport, not his.
"That's simple, Lincoln. If LJ and Michael think she's dead, they'll be even more scared of what I'm capable of. The more scared of me they are, the more well-behaved they are. You will remain well-behaved as long as I still have your son, because you know that I really won't hesitate to torture him in front of you if you try to double cross me. You've been good so far about telling me everything and leaving the others to think I'm in the dark, but my insurance policy is still locked in the room in the basement."
Lincoln knew she was right. Seeing LJ tied up in a shipping crate was terrible... At least now he was comfortable and sleeping in a real bed, even if he was a prisoner in that small, well-furnished room. He would do anything in his power to keep him alive and as comfortable as possible.
Lincoln's hand moved slowly to the side of her face. When he brushed her cheek, he saw her cold eyes brighten momentarily. "If you made good on even half of your dire promises, Susan, I would leave your bed and never come back to it. You need to stop making promises to me that you have no intention of keeping." The last words were breathed into her ear, and Lincoln moved in the last inch or so to nuzzle into the soft, surprisingly warm skin of her neck.
---
He was only half-right, she knew. She would do everything within her power to help these people get out from under the thumb of The Company, including letting Sara escape--not that she couldn't find her again if she absolutely had to. Something about killing Sara a second time could be exactly the tool she would need to break Michael Scoffield down if he tried to thwart her plans yet again. But she did make too many idle threats to the only man who had ever seen her crack. The only man who she had ever allowed herself to open up to... the only man she had ever--
Don't go down that path... She thought, contemptuously. Love is weak. Look at Michael and Lincoln, they are so easily to manipulate because they can love. You lost that luxury a long time ago, this is no time to go back.
She felt herself melting little by little as Lincoln's gentle biting, kissing progression down her stomach continued. His hot breath sending ripples of goosebumps across her tone abdomen, penetrating deeper to thaw the part of her that only ever showed itself here, between the sheets. As he slipped past her navel, she felt herself arch into the welcome pleasure, willing him to go further. Lincoln's hands, however, took over and slid their way back up to cup her breasts, as his mouth took the opportunity to make swirling circles around her ready nipples. When he paused to take a well-earned breath of cool air, she reached to his chin with one of her long manicured fingers and drew him in for a kiss. He settled down on the bed next to her as his kisses became more insistent. First shallow, exploring every inch of her lips and teeth with his velvet, skilled tongue. Then deeper, to wrestle with her tongue before suddenly withdrawing, coaxing her tongue into his mouth. He tasted sweet, and warm, and comforting. His kisses were relaxed, and tasting his breath seemed to calm her to the very core of her being.
She felt a salty intrusion at the edge of their kiss, and drew Lincoln's finger into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment before turning her attention back to the origin of the sleek, sexy voice that threatened at all times to draw her from behind her mask. She shivered slightly against his warm, muscular body as she felt that cold finger trace its way down her body, to come to a rest between her legs. In all the times they had been together in this bed, it had never been much more than casual sex, and as pleasure exploded between her legs, she knew that this time was going to be different. She would give herself to him completely, utterly, and irrevocably; her mask cast completely aside in the heat of passion.
---
He felt it when she broke, when her body went from pressing against him out of desire to clinging to his for warmth and completion. He opened his eyes, and gazed into the brilliant, vulnerable, beautiful green eyes of a woman could not possibly still be Susan. Her face was softened, her hair flowed more freely, her smile was genuine and her breath was shallow. As he watched, he saw her eyes twinkle mischievously and she was rolling him onto his back and straddling him, the white sheets still clinging to her, reminding him painfully of how angelic Veronica used to look when she slept beneath the sheets beside him.
All thoughts not Oh..., Yes!, God, that feels wonderful. or Where did she learn that? were soon banished from Lincoln's head as Susan bent down to his chest, her mouth and her hands working their way down his body... composing a symphony of pleasure on his muscular, sweat-soaked skin.
He was used to the games, used to halting his desire and keeping control while every part of him but the part that wanted it most was worshipped, licked, teased. He controlled his breathing and enjoyed every sensation as her fingers massaged his inner thigh and her tongue bathed his abdomen, encircling his waiting manhood with the pleasure of torment. He even had a moment to wonder what was happening before his body imploded with ecstasy, shot through with surprise as a single, slender wet finger plunged unmercifully into a cavern of pleasure he had never known existed. Before he came down from this intense high, she had enveloped him with her warm, moist lips and was methodically licking, caressing, lightly teething the entire length of him and taking him fully inside her as he arched into her. When he was harder and hotter than he could remember being since he had made love to Veronica (/Stop that, Lincoln... now is NOT the time/), he drew her face up to his and kissed her delicately as his strong arms brought her beneath him, expertly aligning himself over her and entering her in a single, smooth motion. The rhythm he adopted soon brought quiet moans and happy sighs from the lips beneath his, and her body arched into his involuntarily, as if drawn there by magnetic compulsion.
As her body neared her climax his lithe movements became arrhythmic, filling her partially before rocking back, angling his thrusts to pinpoint every quivering node of pleasure within her, with just enough friction to keep her firmly rooted in his rutting. Her third climax caught him off guard, and the spontaneous wracking of her body provided the final push that Lincoln himself needed. A low purring moan escaped him, muffled by the still kissing tongue in his mouth as his body shook and carried him though the orgasm.
---
As the stars and shapes faded from her eyes, she breathed a sigh of contentment, and hugged herself a little tighter against Lincoln's comforting heat. As his breathing slowed, she slid her fingers between them to extricate his softening body from hers. As she held him in her hand, she marveled at the heat and weight which could so skillfully rob her of every protection with which she shrouded herself. As the quiet moments stretched on further, she felt the cold chill of her mask slowly enveloping her heart, inch by inch. As her fortress of ice completed its encasement, she knew: this might only be sex for him--really hot sex, she was sure--but she knew that to her, if only she could ever admit it, it meant more. Comments are like unexpected rays of sunlight, warming my heart, making the day worthwhile.