Wise Men Run
Title:Wise Men Run
Author:Aireyail
Pairing/Characters:onesided(for now) T-Bag/Michael, implied Michael/Sara
Category:Slash
Rating:NC-17
Summary:AU in which Theodore and Gretchen sell Scylla and Theodore finally gets what he wants.
Spoilers:none, possible S4 spoilers in later chapters
Warnings: AU, explicit sexual situations, dub-con
Disclaimer: Prison Break and all related elements and characters are copyright Paul Scheuring, 20th Century Fox Television, Adelstein-Parouse Productions, and Original Television. This is a fan story in no way affiliated with any of the above copyright and trademark holders of Prison Break. I make no money off of these writings.
Gretchen strolled leisurely through the hall at Kingdom Hotel sporting a dark crimson suede mini, her heels clicking noisily as she entered the aforementioned meeting place Theodore and she had talked about. Gretchen spotted Bagwell resting his back against a wall anxiously, his cobalt pinstriped shirt and black tie slightly wrinkled. If Gretchen didn't know any better she would have guessed the man had been waiting for a funeral march, he looked so pitiful. Upon seeing her, Theodore brightened some. "You've brought whatcha promised," he asked in his edgy lilting Alabamian accent, twiddling and flattening his tie.
She took off her pitch black shades and slipped them into her purple purse, looking as serious and professional as always. Theodore could admire her businesslike attitude, he himself enjoying it at Gate. "He's in room 219, delivered to you, as promised," she said curtly, handing him a key. He clutched it roughly in his hands. Without so much as a thorough look around the deserted hallway, she slapped out a briefcase. She opened it, proving it carried the five-hundred thousand dollars separated into stacks of twenty thousand dollars each, like she agreed. "And here's your cut, the rest of the 1.2 billion will be wired to the off-shore account we discussed earlier." He looked around, annoyed that Gretchen wasn't being more cautious, but almost blanched, it was really happening, he was a /fucking/ billionaire. "I hope I have the pleasure of never seeing you again," she added, hardnosed.
Theodore clasped the silver case excitedly, and then turned solemn-faced at her stiffly retreating back. "Wait," he said worriedly, reaching out as if to stop her. "This key...Scofield's really in there."
She turned, smiling, "Like I said, 'as promised.'" She winked, dragging a dark black lock of hair behind an ear and slipping back on her shades, continuing back down the hall, disappearing.
Theodore couldn't be more enthused...he couldn't be more nervous. He pivoted hastily to face a mirror in the hall, fixing his dark brown hair so it wouldn't fall into his eyes or get fluffier or flatter than usual. He rubbed his face, brushing his mustache, and took a good look at himself. He was getting older, that was for sure. He was tired. More tired than he ever had been, but it was all over. Theodore could rest now. He could settle down. Staring at himself he decided to rehearse, after all, it would be an important affair. "Hey, Pretty," he started, "'S been a long time comin' and I think...," He sighed, aggravated, "No, no. Stupid." He tried again, "Scofield, the time has come...No, that's no good." He glared at his reflection. "Fuck it! I'll just pounce on 'em and tell 'em he's mine!" A little old woman, in a white dress with sunflower print and a hefty red hat on her head, gasped as the elevators doors eased open and she spotted Theodore yelling at the hotel's hallway mirror. He reddened, "Sorry, ma'am."
He nodded politely even as the lady stared suspiciously, wobbling off the elevator. He dragged the briefcase onto the elevator with him. His hand twitched as he pressed for the second floor. He couldn't believe he was this panicked, that Michael could affect him this easily. He scuffed his shoes, straightened his tie, and bit his lip. His stomach fluttered as goose bumps flooded his skin. He felt giddy.
The elevator made a little ding as its destination was reached and the doors opened. Stepping out he read door numbers apprehensively, '215...217...219. Here it is,' he thought, almost dreaded. What would happen? Would Michael put up a fight? Would he give in and act defeated? Was he even in there? Theodore honestly didn't know.
He grasped the handle after using the key. It was eerily quiet inside. The room was immaculate, grand and golden and everything that Theodore wasn't used to. There was a nice little kitchen to his right, a small dinning room slash living room he was now standing in, and a door to the left that was slightly ajar.
Theodore headed to the door immediately after dumping the suitcase in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. He peeked inside, gasped. There, sprawled across the white duvet was Michael, asleep and unrestrained in a loose gossamer-like button down shirt. He thought Gretchen would have tied him up at the least, but on closer inspection- the awkward position coupled with the heavy sleeping- Theodore realized he must be drugged.
Drugged..."Damnit," he cursed, he would have to deal with this /shit/; he would have to deal with a drugged-Scofield. He had actually wanted Michael to be sentient of what was happening in their quaint little abode. Oh well...he wasn't choosey.
He slipped through the door, taking off his shoes and socks gauchely with one hand to set them near it; he approached the bed and leaned over it leering at Michael's innocently sleeping face and lily white complexion. He trailed his good hand down the side of one cheek and it grew hot in his palm, flushing in such a tempting way.
Theodore slapped Michael's cheek lightly, "Pretty? Come on, wake up." Glistening unfocused eyes met his threateningly sharp black ones. "What the hell did they give you," he muttered, mostly to himself as he was sure Michael wasn't listening, or comprehending.
Michael groaned, his neck arching faintly making Theodore draw his bottom lip between his teeth to still himself. "What's hap-happening?" He looked around in a daze and his drugged eyes widened as they settled on Theodore again. He murmured nonsensically, shortly, before, "Oh, God, why won't you just die?"
Theodore chuckled, "Aw, Pretty, you know just what t'say t'get my juices flowin', don'tcha?"
Michael pushed himself up groggily. He shook his head a bit trying to regain focus and sneered in disgust, "You pig." The first five buttons on the creamy white shirt had been undone and now one side of the attire exposed a blushing shoulder. Theodore stretched out his good hand for it.
Taking Michael's state of mind to his advantage, he pushed him back down by the burning shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Now if I were you Pretty, I'd do what Teddy here told me to do." Michael stared on in confusion and Theodore continued, taking hold of the shoulder tightly, thinking quick, "I have your pretty lil' doctor lady over in the next room, tied up all nice like," his eyes darkened and his voice grew rougher, "Any pleasure I don't receive from you, I'll take from your woman." Michael panicked, tussling weakly under Theodore's body, but the other man held fast. "Did ya hear what I just said?" Pretty stilled somewhat, calming himself and Theodore slackened his grip.
"W-What do you want me to do," Michael asked timorously, mostly from the tussle and whatever drugs had been so generously given to him. Theodore grinned; popping out a bottle of sweet scented lubrication, from his dark slacks, that he had bought for the occasion and set it aside. He lay down beside Michael, lounging back with great display. Facing him a little, he watched Pretty with an intent look.
"Undress me," he commanded. Michael paused a tad, but struggled to get to his knees, under the influence and on a strangely spongy mattress. He clutched at Theodore's shirt buttons clumsily and stumbled. Theodore steadied Michael's movements, placing his hands on Michael's hips and took hold of his hands, helping Michael with the buttons. He was so drugged that Theodore had an easier time undoing the buttons with one hand.
Michael looked slightly horrified as the cobalt colored pinstriped top was eradicated and Theodore's sleekly solid midriff came into view.
At that instant, Theodore couldn't help but to examine Michael's lips, shining and pink and just a bit pouty. He reached out, cupping Michael's face in a mocking lover's caress, his treacherous fingers traced delicately across the curve of them, "I want you to kiss me."
"But I-I," Michael stuttered, mouth opening and closing rapidly. Theodore yanked Michael down by the chin and pressed his thin and slightly chapping lips softly against Pretty's full ones. They stayed in the lip lock a moment, simple and sweet, if it weren't for Michael's silent terror, and breathtakingly lingering. Theodore pulled back and peppered a few more kisses from Michael's chin to his nose.
He hauled Michael across his lap and clasped his thighs. "Come on now, now with the slacks," he rumbled, dragging Michael's soft and normally adroit hands to his buckle. The younger man's fingers twitched and Theodore worried for a trice that it might be the drugs.
They undid the belt together and Theodore shimmied out of his slacks and underwear careful not to knock Michael from his lap. He lay there naked staring up at Michael and then pulled his hands from the wiry thighs, never looking away from those sweet grey eyes, to take care of Michael's pants. He drew them from Michael's pale thighs, drawing the thinning underwear down with it. Theodore chortled gently as he spotted Michael examining his stiff cock absorbedly while he tossed his soft blue pants to the side. "Keep staring at it like that and it really might just up and bite you."
Michael attempted to scowl but it contorted slightly and he replied with, "I wasn't staring." He pulled the creamy material of his shirt down over his thighs in a reticent manner. "Please, don't make me do this," Michael pleaded. Theodore seemed a little annoyed but composed himself, he didn't want to lash out. Distractedly, Theodore thought the moment would have been more romantic with some candles, ones that smelled like apple pie, not vanilla which he usually bought for Susan.
He pushed the milky fabric above Michael's thighs to stare at his flaccid penis. "I want you to keep this on," he said, tugging at the shirt. Theodore thought the shirt was appealing with its loose fit that framed the one shoulder and he liked the way Michael looked almost vulnerable at this moment, the drugs being a hefty factor most likely. He stroked circles over the trembling hips and brought his hand back to cup Michael's bottom. "You're going to ride me."
He grabbed the lubrication and Michael's hand, pouring the pleasantly perfumed substance in it. Michael hesitated glancing at his slick hand and Theodore sighed. "I'm not doin' all the work. You need t'prepare yourself."
"I've never done this before," he divulged. Theodore thought Michael was thinking about this all too hard. He was showing that tell-tale sign, the one he usually got when working on the escape, that strange fully captivated expression. Even more importantly, he noticed, he wasn't paying any attention to one, Theodore Bagwell.
Theodore jerked Michael's chin with the only hand he had left until their eyes met. "It's not rocket science, Pretty. You take these two fingers," here he raised Michael's glossy hand in the air, "and stick 'em up your ass," at this point, he lowered them to Michael's private area. "Then you're gonna wanna stretch yourself." He grinned, "Now, make sure you're in a fine position, so Teddy can get a good look at yuh."
Michael felt humiliated and detested Theodore at present more than ever, but obeyed his wishes nonetheless. He swiftly penetrated himself with two fingers at once. There was an indistinguishable soreness that he instantly regretted. He felt violated.
Theodore made an abrupt moaning noise below him that drew Michael's attention immediately. He scrutinized Theodore's expression. The gloomy brown eyes were looking on at Michael's hand as the fingers were pumping in and out quickly. An ardent blush spread from Theodore's cheekbones to the middle of his abdomen and he sensed more than saw his hip being massacred under Theodore's rigid grip.
"God, I've been waitin' so long," Theodore rasped. Michael was panting and his eyes unexpectedly shut as he rocked vaguely over him. Theodore decided he was fond of this sexual side of Michael. Perhaps one day Michael would take pleasure in their amalgamation as well. No, he /knew/ Michael would. It would just take him awhile to get used to the idea and perhaps one day he wouldn't have to use incentive like Sara to get what he wanted. They could work this out. He felt optimistic.
Michael's posture wilted and his thighs quavered. One thigh brushed against Theodore's erection inadvertently and he bowed under Michael. "Ugh, no," the whine fell past Michael's lips.
"Oh, yes," he hissed. "Get a move on now, Pretty. As much as I'd like this moment to last evermore, I'd rather be experiencing your snug lil' hole 'round my cock." Michael panted in exhaustion and seized the duvet securely. Theodore captured Michael's hips in a firm hold and lifted him so he was elevated over his erection. He eased Michael down onto his cock and Michael cried out as he was invaded.
Theodore breathed deeply and let his eyes take in Michael's form. He was still panting tiredly above him and he was bent over in pain. "Mmnh, it hurts," he moaned.
"Shh-shh, baby," he soothed, brushing at Michael's face gently and running his hand down his abdomen to feel the lustrous build of muscle. Theodore sighed playing with the shirt, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever had, Pretty."
Michael bit his lip and talked through it sarcastically, "Please don't say I should thank you for that oh-so-glorious remark."
Theodore just smiled. He did not have to say anything. He urged Michael's thighs upward so he would get the hint and Michael complied silently heaving his hips slightly higher and pushing back down. As he pushed down though, something astonishing happened. He knew the mechanics of anal sex, but he never knew it could be /this/ enjoyable. Pleasure flared from his nerves being stimulated by the head of Theodore's cock and he jerked suddenly.
Theodore gasped as Michael surprisingly squeezed around his erection. "Ooh," he grated out, "Yes, I need this from you." Michael didn't understand Theodore's affirmation. He suspected the injection Gretchen slipped him earlier had something to do with that. He ignored it and bounced a little to feel that incredible burn of bliss over again.
He watched through half lidded silver eyes as Theodore bucked wildly below him. He groaned keenly as his prostate was repeatedly hit and then gave a piercing moan as Theodore stroked his hardening shaft. Theodore started to speak again and Michael began to wonder why, he must like talking during sex, Michael determined, "I'm not gonna come till you do, Pretty." He stroked faster and pushed up into Michael's downward thrusts.
Michael reflected distantly that he shouldn't be enjoying this when Sara was probably in the next room. The thought was lost though as he arched backward faintly and Theodore finally took hold of his hips to thrust violently into his contracting hole.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "I'm gonna make you come on my cock." Michael turned his face away from Theodore's intense stare and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as he ejaculated and his creamy extraction flooded Theodore's abdomen.
Theodore grunted loudly and drove Michael's hips up and down more rapidly. Michael could hear soft slapping noises of his flesh hitting Theodore's and felt exceedingly weak. Wet warmth dripped down his thighs and he knew Theodore had finished.
Theodore laid Michael down tenderly pulling him to his chest. He ran his hand through the black cropped hair as Michael tried not to sob.
"It's okay, Pretty. You were perfect," he said. Michael stared blankly at him and turned his back to him in defiance. Theodore glowered, but massaged the protruding spine and kissed the younger man's temple. He burrowed his face into the back of Michael's neck and waited for the other man to fall asleep.
As Michael's breath evened out and Theodore was sure he was asleep, he drew himself from the bed and walked out into the kitchen bare. He washed his chest and stomach quickly with a soft red rag hanging by the kitchen sink. He checked some of the other cabinets to see if Gretchen had been kind enough to leave them groceries and satisfied after finding a few necessities, he tugged open the cabinet doors under the sink to retrieve the dull case.
Sitting on the plush couch he unlatched the briefcase. Five hundred thousand dollars was all his, the rest was hidden away in an off-shore account, and now he had Michael.
He would be upset in the morning, Theodore figured, more so after he'd find out about Sara. He had no clue as to where the doctor was currently located, but the lie had served its purpose.
He'd make Michael some sugary Southern style flap jacks in the morning.
Author:Aireyail
Pairing/Characters:onesided(for now) T-Bag/Michael, implied Michael/Sara
Category:Slash
Rating:NC-17
Summary:AU in which Theodore and Gretchen sell Scylla and Theodore finally gets what he wants.
Spoilers:none, possible S4 spoilers in later chapters
Warnings: AU, explicit sexual situations, dub-con
Disclaimer: Prison Break and all related elements and characters are copyright Paul Scheuring, 20th Century Fox Television, Adelstein-Parouse Productions, and Original Television. This is a fan story in no way affiliated with any of the above copyright and trademark holders of Prison Break. I make no money off of these writings.
Gretchen strolled leisurely through the hall at Kingdom Hotel sporting a dark crimson suede mini, her heels clicking noisily as she entered the aforementioned meeting place Theodore and she had talked about. Gretchen spotted Bagwell resting his back against a wall anxiously, his cobalt pinstriped shirt and black tie slightly wrinkled. If Gretchen didn't know any better she would have guessed the man had been waiting for a funeral march, he looked so pitiful. Upon seeing her, Theodore brightened some. "You've brought whatcha promised," he asked in his edgy lilting Alabamian accent, twiddling and flattening his tie.
She took off her pitch black shades and slipped them into her purple purse, looking as serious and professional as always. Theodore could admire her businesslike attitude, he himself enjoying it at Gate. "He's in room 219, delivered to you, as promised," she said curtly, handing him a key. He clutched it roughly in his hands. Without so much as a thorough look around the deserted hallway, she slapped out a briefcase. She opened it, proving it carried the five-hundred thousand dollars separated into stacks of twenty thousand dollars each, like she agreed. "And here's your cut, the rest of the 1.2 billion will be wired to the off-shore account we discussed earlier." He looked around, annoyed that Gretchen wasn't being more cautious, but almost blanched, it was really happening, he was a /fucking/ billionaire. "I hope I have the pleasure of never seeing you again," she added, hardnosed.
Theodore clasped the silver case excitedly, and then turned solemn-faced at her stiffly retreating back. "Wait," he said worriedly, reaching out as if to stop her. "This key...Scofield's really in there."
She turned, smiling, "Like I said, 'as promised.'" She winked, dragging a dark black lock of hair behind an ear and slipping back on her shades, continuing back down the hall, disappearing.
Theodore couldn't be more enthused...he couldn't be more nervous. He pivoted hastily to face a mirror in the hall, fixing his dark brown hair so it wouldn't fall into his eyes or get fluffier or flatter than usual. He rubbed his face, brushing his mustache, and took a good look at himself. He was getting older, that was for sure. He was tired. More tired than he ever had been, but it was all over. Theodore could rest now. He could settle down. Staring at himself he decided to rehearse, after all, it would be an important affair. "Hey, Pretty," he started, "'S been a long time comin' and I think...," He sighed, aggravated, "No, no. Stupid." He tried again, "Scofield, the time has come...No, that's no good." He glared at his reflection. "Fuck it! I'll just pounce on 'em and tell 'em he's mine!" A little old woman, in a white dress with sunflower print and a hefty red hat on her head, gasped as the elevators doors eased open and she spotted Theodore yelling at the hotel's hallway mirror. He reddened, "Sorry, ma'am."
He nodded politely even as the lady stared suspiciously, wobbling off the elevator. He dragged the briefcase onto the elevator with him. His hand twitched as he pressed for the second floor. He couldn't believe he was this panicked, that Michael could affect him this easily. He scuffed his shoes, straightened his tie, and bit his lip. His stomach fluttered as goose bumps flooded his skin. He felt giddy.
The elevator made a little ding as its destination was reached and the doors opened. Stepping out he read door numbers apprehensively, '215...217...219. Here it is,' he thought, almost dreaded. What would happen? Would Michael put up a fight? Would he give in and act defeated? Was he even in there? Theodore honestly didn't know.
He grasped the handle after using the key. It was eerily quiet inside. The room was immaculate, grand and golden and everything that Theodore wasn't used to. There was a nice little kitchen to his right, a small dinning room slash living room he was now standing in, and a door to the left that was slightly ajar.
Theodore headed to the door immediately after dumping the suitcase in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. He peeked inside, gasped. There, sprawled across the white duvet was Michael, asleep and unrestrained in a loose gossamer-like button down shirt. He thought Gretchen would have tied him up at the least, but on closer inspection- the awkward position coupled with the heavy sleeping- Theodore realized he must be drugged.
Drugged..."Damnit," he cursed, he would have to deal with this /shit/; he would have to deal with a drugged-Scofield. He had actually wanted Michael to be sentient of what was happening in their quaint little abode. Oh well...he wasn't choosey.
He slipped through the door, taking off his shoes and socks gauchely with one hand to set them near it; he approached the bed and leaned over it leering at Michael's innocently sleeping face and lily white complexion. He trailed his good hand down the side of one cheek and it grew hot in his palm, flushing in such a tempting way.
Theodore slapped Michael's cheek lightly, "Pretty? Come on, wake up." Glistening unfocused eyes met his threateningly sharp black ones. "What the hell did they give you," he muttered, mostly to himself as he was sure Michael wasn't listening, or comprehending.
Michael groaned, his neck arching faintly making Theodore draw his bottom lip between his teeth to still himself. "What's hap-happening?" He looked around in a daze and his drugged eyes widened as they settled on Theodore again. He murmured nonsensically, shortly, before, "Oh, God, why won't you just die?"
Theodore chuckled, "Aw, Pretty, you know just what t'say t'get my juices flowin', don'tcha?"
Michael pushed himself up groggily. He shook his head a bit trying to regain focus and sneered in disgust, "You pig." The first five buttons on the creamy white shirt had been undone and now one side of the attire exposed a blushing shoulder. Theodore stretched out his good hand for it.
Taking Michael's state of mind to his advantage, he pushed him back down by the burning shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Now if I were you Pretty, I'd do what Teddy here told me to do." Michael stared on in confusion and Theodore continued, taking hold of the shoulder tightly, thinking quick, "I have your pretty lil' doctor lady over in the next room, tied up all nice like," his eyes darkened and his voice grew rougher, "Any pleasure I don't receive from you, I'll take from your woman." Michael panicked, tussling weakly under Theodore's body, but the other man held fast. "Did ya hear what I just said?" Pretty stilled somewhat, calming himself and Theodore slackened his grip.
"W-What do you want me to do," Michael asked timorously, mostly from the tussle and whatever drugs had been so generously given to him. Theodore grinned; popping out a bottle of sweet scented lubrication, from his dark slacks, that he had bought for the occasion and set it aside. He lay down beside Michael, lounging back with great display. Facing him a little, he watched Pretty with an intent look.
"Undress me," he commanded. Michael paused a tad, but struggled to get to his knees, under the influence and on a strangely spongy mattress. He clutched at Theodore's shirt buttons clumsily and stumbled. Theodore steadied Michael's movements, placing his hands on Michael's hips and took hold of his hands, helping Michael with the buttons. He was so drugged that Theodore had an easier time undoing the buttons with one hand.
Michael looked slightly horrified as the cobalt colored pinstriped top was eradicated and Theodore's sleekly solid midriff came into view.
At that instant, Theodore couldn't help but to examine Michael's lips, shining and pink and just a bit pouty. He reached out, cupping Michael's face in a mocking lover's caress, his treacherous fingers traced delicately across the curve of them, "I want you to kiss me."
"But I-I," Michael stuttered, mouth opening and closing rapidly. Theodore yanked Michael down by the chin and pressed his thin and slightly chapping lips softly against Pretty's full ones. They stayed in the lip lock a moment, simple and sweet, if it weren't for Michael's silent terror, and breathtakingly lingering. Theodore pulled back and peppered a few more kisses from Michael's chin to his nose.
He hauled Michael across his lap and clasped his thighs. "Come on now, now with the slacks," he rumbled, dragging Michael's soft and normally adroit hands to his buckle. The younger man's fingers twitched and Theodore worried for a trice that it might be the drugs.
They undid the belt together and Theodore shimmied out of his slacks and underwear careful not to knock Michael from his lap. He lay there naked staring up at Michael and then pulled his hands from the wiry thighs, never looking away from those sweet grey eyes, to take care of Michael's pants. He drew them from Michael's pale thighs, drawing the thinning underwear down with it. Theodore chortled gently as he spotted Michael examining his stiff cock absorbedly while he tossed his soft blue pants to the side. "Keep staring at it like that and it really might just up and bite you."
Michael attempted to scowl but it contorted slightly and he replied with, "I wasn't staring." He pulled the creamy material of his shirt down over his thighs in a reticent manner. "Please, don't make me do this," Michael pleaded. Theodore seemed a little annoyed but composed himself, he didn't want to lash out. Distractedly, Theodore thought the moment would have been more romantic with some candles, ones that smelled like apple pie, not vanilla which he usually bought for Susan.
He pushed the milky fabric above Michael's thighs to stare at his flaccid penis. "I want you to keep this on," he said, tugging at the shirt. Theodore thought the shirt was appealing with its loose fit that framed the one shoulder and he liked the way Michael looked almost vulnerable at this moment, the drugs being a hefty factor most likely. He stroked circles over the trembling hips and brought his hand back to cup Michael's bottom. "You're going to ride me."
He grabbed the lubrication and Michael's hand, pouring the pleasantly perfumed substance in it. Michael hesitated glancing at his slick hand and Theodore sighed. "I'm not doin' all the work. You need t'prepare yourself."
"I've never done this before," he divulged. Theodore thought Michael was thinking about this all too hard. He was showing that tell-tale sign, the one he usually got when working on the escape, that strange fully captivated expression. Even more importantly, he noticed, he wasn't paying any attention to one, Theodore Bagwell.
Theodore jerked Michael's chin with the only hand he had left until their eyes met. "It's not rocket science, Pretty. You take these two fingers," here he raised Michael's glossy hand in the air, "and stick 'em up your ass," at this point, he lowered them to Michael's private area. "Then you're gonna wanna stretch yourself." He grinned, "Now, make sure you're in a fine position, so Teddy can get a good look at yuh."
Michael felt humiliated and detested Theodore at present more than ever, but obeyed his wishes nonetheless. He swiftly penetrated himself with two fingers at once. There was an indistinguishable soreness that he instantly regretted. He felt violated.
Theodore made an abrupt moaning noise below him that drew Michael's attention immediately. He scrutinized Theodore's expression. The gloomy brown eyes were looking on at Michael's hand as the fingers were pumping in and out quickly. An ardent blush spread from Theodore's cheekbones to the middle of his abdomen and he sensed more than saw his hip being massacred under Theodore's rigid grip.
"God, I've been waitin' so long," Theodore rasped. Michael was panting and his eyes unexpectedly shut as he rocked vaguely over him. Theodore decided he was fond of this sexual side of Michael. Perhaps one day Michael would take pleasure in their amalgamation as well. No, he /knew/ Michael would. It would just take him awhile to get used to the idea and perhaps one day he wouldn't have to use incentive like Sara to get what he wanted. They could work this out. He felt optimistic.
Michael's posture wilted and his thighs quavered. One thigh brushed against Theodore's erection inadvertently and he bowed under Michael. "Ugh, no," the whine fell past Michael's lips.
"Oh, yes," he hissed. "Get a move on now, Pretty. As much as I'd like this moment to last evermore, I'd rather be experiencing your snug lil' hole 'round my cock." Michael panted in exhaustion and seized the duvet securely. Theodore captured Michael's hips in a firm hold and lifted him so he was elevated over his erection. He eased Michael down onto his cock and Michael cried out as he was invaded.
Theodore breathed deeply and let his eyes take in Michael's form. He was still panting tiredly above him and he was bent over in pain. "Mmnh, it hurts," he moaned.
"Shh-shh, baby," he soothed, brushing at Michael's face gently and running his hand down his abdomen to feel the lustrous build of muscle. Theodore sighed playing with the shirt, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever had, Pretty."
Michael bit his lip and talked through it sarcastically, "Please don't say I should thank you for that oh-so-glorious remark."
Theodore just smiled. He did not have to say anything. He urged Michael's thighs upward so he would get the hint and Michael complied silently heaving his hips slightly higher and pushing back down. As he pushed down though, something astonishing happened. He knew the mechanics of anal sex, but he never knew it could be /this/ enjoyable. Pleasure flared from his nerves being stimulated by the head of Theodore's cock and he jerked suddenly.
Theodore gasped as Michael surprisingly squeezed around his erection. "Ooh," he grated out, "Yes, I need this from you." Michael didn't understand Theodore's affirmation. He suspected the injection Gretchen slipped him earlier had something to do with that. He ignored it and bounced a little to feel that incredible burn of bliss over again.
He watched through half lidded silver eyes as Theodore bucked wildly below him. He groaned keenly as his prostate was repeatedly hit and then gave a piercing moan as Theodore stroked his hardening shaft. Theodore started to speak again and Michael began to wonder why, he must like talking during sex, Michael determined, "I'm not gonna come till you do, Pretty." He stroked faster and pushed up into Michael's downward thrusts.
Michael reflected distantly that he shouldn't be enjoying this when Sara was probably in the next room. The thought was lost though as he arched backward faintly and Theodore finally took hold of his hips to thrust violently into his contracting hole.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "I'm gonna make you come on my cock." Michael turned his face away from Theodore's intense stare and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as he ejaculated and his creamy extraction flooded Theodore's abdomen.
Theodore grunted loudly and drove Michael's hips up and down more rapidly. Michael could hear soft slapping noises of his flesh hitting Theodore's and felt exceedingly weak. Wet warmth dripped down his thighs and he knew Theodore had finished.
Theodore laid Michael down tenderly pulling him to his chest. He ran his hand through the black cropped hair as Michael tried not to sob.
"It's okay, Pretty. You were perfect," he said. Michael stared blankly at him and turned his back to him in defiance. Theodore glowered, but massaged the protruding spine and kissed the younger man's temple. He burrowed his face into the back of Michael's neck and waited for the other man to fall asleep.
As Michael's breath evened out and Theodore was sure he was asleep, he drew himself from the bed and walked out into the kitchen bare. He washed his chest and stomach quickly with a soft red rag hanging by the kitchen sink. He checked some of the other cabinets to see if Gretchen had been kind enough to leave them groceries and satisfied after finding a few necessities, he tugged open the cabinet doors under the sink to retrieve the dull case.
Sitting on the plush couch he unlatched the briefcase. Five hundred thousand dollars was all his, the rest was hidden away in an off-shore account, and now he had Michael.
He would be upset in the morning, Theodore figured, more so after he'd find out about Sara. He had no clue as to where the doctor was currently located, but the lie had served its purpose.
He'd make Michael some sugary Southern style flap jacks in the morning.