Epiphany - Lincoln/Veronica (NC-17)

Mar 23, 2008 21:01

Title: Epiphany (2/3)
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Veronica Donovan, Michael Scofield
Genre: Het, pre-series
Length: 4,029 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary:That's the problem with epiphanies; you never know when to expect them.
Author's Note:For domfangirl's birthday because she deserves some Lincoln/Veronica that she didn't have to write herself. *g* This story is set in the Full Circle universe and contains the very first Lincoln/Veronica NC-17 I've ever written, so bring on the concrit, kiddies. Thanks to sarah_scribbles for the once-over, any mistakes that remain are all mine. You can read Chapter One of this story here.



~*~

He watches as Veronica guides her father across the courtyard, her dark head barely reaching his shoulder, and is once again swamped by the sensation of having found the huge chunk of something missing from his life. He turns to Michael, who is watching him with a decidedly smug expression. “What?”

His brother smirks. “If you two want to be alone tonight, just let me know.”

Lincoln flushes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, trying not to let it show that the thought of being alone with Veronica fills him with both anticipation and a dulled sense of terror. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Michael raises one eyebrow, his smirk still firmly fixed in place. “We’ll see.”

They spend the next hour strolling around the campus, but Lincoln's mind is firmly fixed on Veronica’s father rather than their surroundings. Michael is happily absorbed in studying the older buildings on campus, and Lincoln can’t help but envy the apparent serenity of his brother’s thoughts.

“Can you believe that guy?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Lincoln stares unseeingly at the ornate building in front of them. Michael had told him its name only two minutes ago, but it’s already slipped right out of his head. Instead he’s thinking of Veronica’s face when her father was talking trash at her, the way her bottom lip had quivered for a few seconds before firming into a stubborn line. “Let’s get a beer.”

~*~

“How was your trip to the movies with LJ yesterday?”

“Pretty good.” Lincoln leans back in the booth as the waitress places another overpriced beer in front of both of them, waiting until she leaves before answering. “Until he asked in a really loud voice why I don’t sleep in his mom’s bed.”

Michael’s eyes widen, his mouth twitching as though he’s trying not to smile. “I thought you already had that conversation with him.”

“A few times.” Lincoln rubs his thumb over the droplets of moisture clinging to the neck of his beer bottle. “He keeps asking, though.”

“Maybe he thinks if he keeps asking, he’ll eventually get an answer he likes.”

Lincoln feels a reluctant smile tug at his own lips. “He’s a stubborn kid.”

“Just like his dad,” his brother says in a casual voice that’s not really casual, and Lincoln narrows his gaze.

“Are we back to talking about Vee again?”

Michael shrugs, his beer bottle dangling from his long fingers. “I just don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”

Lincoln shakes his head. “It’s not her who’s the problem, man.” He looks around the crowded bar, seeing dozens of smiling graduates, laughing girls with perfect teeth and hair and legs. None of them even come close to Veronica, as far as he’s concerned. “Look how far she’s come without having me around to drag her down.”

His brother gives him an exasperated look. “You think she couldn’t have achieved what she has if she was still dating you.”

“I don’t think,” Lincoln tells him flatly, “I know.”

Michael studies him, looking as though he’s about to launch into the same Veronica-related lecture Lincoln’s heard a dozen times before. Much to Lincoln’s relief, his cell phone rings before Michael can get a single word out.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Veronica informs him in a cheery voice. “Where are you guys?”

“Uh, hang on.” He looks across the table at Michael. “What’s the name of this place?”

Rolling his eyes, Michael holds up a brightly coloured coaster emblazoned with the bar’s name. “Uh, O’Malley’s?”

Ignoring his brother’s eye-rolling, Lincoln turns his attention back to Veronica. “O’Malley’s.”

She chuckles. “Trust you to find a place that’s always jam-packed with hot college girls.”

He grins into the phone. “And once you get here, there will be at least one I’m interested in talking to.”

“You’re so full of it,” she tells him, and the throaty, teasing note in her voice makes him painfully aware of how long it’s been since she’d flirted with him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Great,” he says, inwardly wincing at the eager teenaged boy he seems to be channeling. Putting his phone onto the table, he looks up to find Michael watching him with obvious amusement. “What?”

Michael raises his eyebrows, a smug expression that fills Lincoln with the urge to tip what’s left of his beer over his head. “Just say the word and I’ll make myself scarce.”

Even as his gut tightens at the thought of being alone with Vee for the whole evening, Lincoln waves away the suggestion. They didn’t come all this way for him to leave Michael in the cold for hours on end. “Leave it alone, will ya?”

Veronica arrives half an hour later, pushing her way through the chattering crowd. Lincoln waves his hand above his head, a broad smile stretching his mouth as her eyes meet his. He watches her as she walks towards him, taking in the silky red - God, his favourite colour on her - blouse, the tight black skirt that hits her knees in exactly the right spot. She looks like his idea of heaven, and he wonders suddenly why on hell he keeps turning down Michael’s offer to disappear.

“Hello boys,” she quips as she slides into the booth beside Lincoln. “Did you miss me?”

“More than life itself,” he says playfully, only realizing once the words are out of his mouth that he’s not really joking. The thought seems to occur to Veronica at the same time, her bright eyes widening then narrowing in the same heartbeat, her smile wavering hesitantly.

“I’m glad to hear it.” She throws Michael a grin, and Lincoln is glad from the respite from her intent gaze. “I’ll have a vodka and lime if you’re buying?”

Michael laughs, shaking his head even as he’s reaching for his wallet. “Remind me to sponge off you as soon as you land that high-paying job, okay?” He slides out of the booth and makes his way to the bar, leaving Lincoln alone with the woman who has haunted his dreams for the past several years. He thinks of Michael’s constant assertion that he was too quick to write off the relationship, then takes a deep breath and stretches his arm along the back of the booth, his fingertips almost touching the silken fall of her inky black hair.

She darts him a glance from beneath thick, dark eyelashes, then moves closer to him, sliding along the polished wood of the seat until her thigh is almost touching his. He can smell her perfume, flowers and spice, his blood warming at an ancient memory of watching her dab it in the hollow of her breasts and throat. Her hair smells like lavender and the faintest traces of cigarette smoke, reminding him of the reason why they had to amuse themselves this afternoon. “How’s your dad?”

She makes a face. “Sleeping it off.”

He blows out a loud breath, trying not to think about how many times they’ve had this conversation. “Sorry about making a scene.”

She shakes her head. “Wasn’t your fault, Linc.” She gives him a smile that makes him feel as though he’s just downed a shot of straight scotch. “It meant a lot to me, having you there today.”

He gives in to the urge to touch her hair, rubbing the smooth strands between his thumb and forefinger. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

She doesn’t pull away from his hesitant touch, instead surprising him by leaning closer. “You know, I have an interview lined up in Chicago next month.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Bianchi and Guthrie. They’re a good firm.”

He doesn’t give a damn if they’re a pack of two-bit crooks or the most prestigious firm in America. All he cares about is that she’s planning to come back to Chicago and that she’s letting him touch her hair and her thigh is now pressed firmly against his in a silent query his body is already clamoring to answer. “You’re gonna move back to Chicago?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze doesn’t waver from his. “I miss it.”

They stare at each other, and he wants very much to take her hand and put it on his heart. Let her feel what being here with her is doing to him, rather than trying to explain the unexplainable.

“Do you guys want some buffalo wings?”

Michael is back, hanging over the back of the booth, grinning at them. If Lincoln didn’t know his brother was ten months past the legal drinking age, he’d be tempted to think he was still in high school. He scowls at him, then he feels Veronica’s hand on his knee and being interrupted doesn’t seem to matter anymore. “Sure.”

~*~

The three of them spend the next few hours talking and drinking and eating, and Lincoln marvels that the first time he’s felt truly at home in years is when he’s hundreds of miles from his apartment. None of them are drunk - Michael’s a cautious drinker and Veronica’s been cradling her last vodka rocks for almost an hour now - but anyone looking at them would think otherwise, watching them laughing until they’re wiping away tears. When they’re finished swapping stories of their juvenile adventures, they talk about Veronica’s hopes for her career, Michael’s work at the shelter, LJ’s performance in his grade school play. Veronica’s eyes soften whenever he mentions LJ, and Lincoln knows then that Michael has been right all along. She may not have forgotten, but she has forgiven him, and the realization makes his head swim.

Veronica leaves his side only to visit the bathroom, and every time she returns, she seems to end up sitting even closer to him. Intoxicated by her presence, he switches to light beer, hoping to curtail the urge to slide his hands beneath the table and palm the bare curve of her knee.

It doesn’t work. Every time she moves, he wants to run his hands over her skin. Every time she smiles, he wants to lean down and cover her mouth with his, kissing the laughter from her lips. He wants to taste her, her skin and her mouth, the translucent swell of her breasts and thighs, and he’s not sure how much longer he can sit beside her in this bar without telling her he wants to do all those things and more.

When they find themselves alone again - Michael’s vanished to the bathroom or the bar, Lincoln’s not entirely sure - Veronica runs her hand down his arm, fingertips flicking at the cuff of his coat. “Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”

“A little.” He could be wearing shorts and a t-shirt and her touch would still make him sweat, but he doesn’t tell her that.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief and something else, something that makes his groin tighten. “You can take it off now, you know.”

Never one to ignore a beautiful woman telling him to take off an item of clothing, he grins and immediately shrugs out of his jacket, folding it clumsily and putting it on the seat beside him. “Happy now?”

Her gaze flicks over him, lingering on his shoulders and chest before lifting to meet his, her eyes glittering with a hunger he thought he’d never see again. “Yes.”

He swallows hard as every drop of blood in his body seems to rush straight to his crotch. Lack of oxygen to the brain, he decides afterwards, is really the only explanation for what he says next. “I’ve missed you so much.”

So much for playing it cool.

She doesn’t look away. She faces him head-on, the way she always has. “I’ve missed you too.”

He holds his breath as she leans closer to him, her gaze dropping to his mouth. Sliding his hand into the silken mass of her hair, he cups the back of her head, closing his eyes as he feels the touch of her mouth on his for the first time in years.

Her kiss is soft and gentle and tastes of whiskey and it rips through his blood like a firestorm. Digging his fingertips into her scalp, he slides his tongue between her lips, tasting lipstick and alcohol and the low moan that vibrates in the back of her throat. One of her hands is on his chest, the other on his thigh, and if he doesn’t stop kissing her in the next ten seconds, he is going to commit an act of public indecency right in this booth.

He somehow manages to pull away, his pulse hammering in his head and his cock, the sound of the crowd around them fading away until there’s only her and him and them. “Jesus, Vee, what are we doing?”

She looks at him with glazed eyes, then lifts her hand to his face, rubbing her thumb over his mouth, coming away smudged with lipstick. “The same thing we always do when we’re together, I guess.”

He stares at her. “Fall back into bad habits?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of giving into temptation.” Shaking her head, she reaches for her purse, pulling out a compact with visibly trembling hands. “I’d better erase the evidence before Michael gets back,” she murmurs almost shyly, then glances around the crowded bar. “Where is he, anyway?”

Distracted by his attempt to adjust the suddenly uncomfortable fit of his jeans, it takes Lincoln a moment to join her in scanning the throng. Veronica finds Michael first, chuckling as she nudges Lincoln's shoulder with hers. “Check it out.”

He follows the line of her gaze to the bar to where Michael is talking to a willowy brunette who is draped decoratively on the bar stool next to him, her long legs gracefully crossed. The girl is gazing at him with an avid interest that not even a blind man could miss, her perfect teeth flashing white against her lipstick as she laughs at whatever he’s saying to her. Given he’s gazing at her just as intently, smiling right back at her, it seems as though Michael hasn’t missed a thing.

When the girl puts her hand on Michael’s arm, leaning close to whisper something in his ear, Lincoln grins and turns back to Veronica. “I told you he didn’t like blondes.”

She gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Unlike his big brother.”

His mouth still tingling from her kiss, he feels as though he’s just been slapped. “Vee.” Reaching out, he takes her hands in his, tangling his fingers through hers. “I can’t undo all the things I’ve screwed up, I know that.” He searches her eyes, desperate for a clue to what lies beneath the sultry smile and tipsy flirting. “And if you’re angry with me, it’s no less than I deserve.”

She studies him for a long time, then seems to come to some kind of decision. “Where are you staying tonight?”

His mouth goes dry. “Uh, the Hampton Inn.”

Her reddened mouth purses into a silent whistle. “Nice choice. Michael’s idea?”

Her hand is on his leg, her thumb brushing lazy strokes over his jeans, making it hard to think of anything except how soon he can get her naked and underneath him. “Yeah.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Want to give me the tour?”

Heat blooms through his veins and beneath his skin, up the back of his neck and legs. “What about Michael?” he mutters, pleased that he’s managed to remember he didn’t come to the bar alone.

Veronica casts an amused glance towards the bar to where Michael and the dark-haired girl are still locked in deep conversation. “I’m sure he’ll be okay for a while.”

Just like he had in Chicago when Michael had first told him about Veronica’s graduation, he feels as though he’s lost the battle before it’s even started. “Let me just check with him, okay?”

Michael looks faintly sheepish when Lincoln taps him on the shoulder, as if he’s suddenly realized it’s taken him over an hour to buy a round of drinks. “Hey, sorry, I was just -” He breaks off, darting a quick glance at the girl beside him as the tips of his ear turn pink, much to Lincoln’s amusement. “Lincoln, this is Lucy. She’s doing Engineering at Baylor.”

Lucy manages to tear her gaze away from Michael long enough to give Lincoln a smile. “Hi.”

Trust Michael to find a fellow engineering student who also looks as though she could make her fortune modeling instead of designing buildings, he thinks. “Hi. Lucy.” He looks at Michael. “Vee and I are going to take a walk.”

Michael looks over his shoulder at Veronica, then back at Lincoln. “Sure.”

“You’re okay here?”

His brother smiles, a very adult smile that Lincoln doesn’t remember ever seeing before. “Definitely.”

~*~

He first kissed Veronica Donovan when he was twelve years old, a chaste press of his lips against hers. It had made him feel as though his feet were no longer touching the ground. Fourteen years later, the feel of her mouth on his still has the same effect.

Somehow he managed to shut the hotel room door behind him before reaching for her, and now his back is pressed against the wall, his hands cupping her ass as she squirms against him, her mouth open and gasping beneath his. Tightening his grip on her butt, he rocks his hips against hers, biting back a groan as his straining erection presses into the crease of her thigh. She wriggles impatiently against him, making him feel even more light-headed, then she pulls away.

“You always were too tall to do this standing up,” she mutters as she kicks off her shoes, then she’s tugging on his hand and pulling him towards one of the twin beds.

“Not that one,” he says automatically, and she gives him a ‘are you kidding me?’ look. He pulls her into his arms and bends his head to kiss her, hard. When he’s finished, she looks dazed and he's as hard as a rock. “That’s Michael’s bed,” he manages to say in a faintly strangled voice.

“How do you know?”

He slips his arms around her waist, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of her skirt. “He called it this morning.”

“You two are hopeless.” She snickers, the sound catching in her throat as he dips his fingertips below the loosened waistband. “How old are you?”

He takes her hand and puts it on his belt buckle, holding her eyes with his as she slides her palm downwards. “Old enough,” he mumbles, then she’s touching him, making his vision blur around the edges, and he decides they’ve wasted enough time talking.

It’s been a long time since they’ve danced this particular dance together, but it takes less than a minute for it all to come rushing back. Her hands reach for his shirt buttons as his fingers unsnap her bra, her arms wind around his neck as his hands rise to cup her pale breasts. He kisses her as he curls his hand between her legs, swallowing her moan as he rubs his fingers over the damp silk of her underpants. Finally she’s naked and so is he, their clothes tossed carelessly onto the other bed, and he wants her so much it’s almost embarrassing. Gathering her in his arms, he pulls her down onto the bed and rolls her onto her back, the press of her naked, warm flesh against his from neck to knee making him shudder with pleasure. “Holy fuck, Vee -“

Her face flushed, she arches beneath him, her thighs lifting to cradle his hips until his aching cock presses against the soft heat between her legs. “I’m on the pill,” she whispers urgently, shifting restlessly beneath him, and he needs no further urging.

Being inside her is like coming home.

He closes his eyes, the breath seizing in his lungs at the feel of her around him, so tight and hot and wet, then opens them to find her staring up at him with such longing he can’t stop himself from saying the words anymore than he could pull his body away from hers. “I love you.”

She cups his face in her hands, her gaze searching his face. “Tell me again when we’re done, okay?” Her honesty hits him like a punch to the solar plexus, then she’s moving beneath him and he can barely remember his own name, let alone the etiquette of sleeping with an ex-girlfriend. Her mouth is hot on his throat, her teeth nipping the spot she knows makes him crazy, her hands running down his back to grip his butt, urging him on.

He wants to go slow but it’s as though their bodies snapped into fast-motion the instant they touched each other. They’re rushing towards something familiar, something new and unknown, and every thrust of his hips makes him feel as though he’s one step closer to making everything right again. He bends his head to her breasts, sucking on one tight nipple then the other, her gasp of pleasure making him grow even harder inside her. “God, you’re beautiful.“

“Stop talking,” she whispers laughingly, her breath hot in his ear as she squeezes his ass, pulling him deeper inside her. He feels the familiar tingle starting at the base of his spine and grits his teeth, sliding his hands beneath her butt to lift her higher, burying himself deep inside her in slow, steady thrusts, watching her face as she gets closer and closer. When she tosses her head back onto the pillow, her teeth white against her bottom lip, he slides one hand between them, dipping his finger into the sleek heat of her to find the spot that used to make her spine arch and her thighs tighten around his hips.

His memory serves him well.

She says his name loudly when she comes, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she writhes beneath him. He follows her in the next heartbeat, let himself go, letting her climax grip and coax his aching flesh until he has nothing left to give. Finally he slumps over her, his breath rattling in his lungs like a fucking freight train, sweating and spent and happier than he’s felt in a very long time.

After what feels like an eternity, he feels her small hand on his cheek, her fingertips stroking his jaw. “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his cheek.

He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead. “Forgotten what?”

She smiles at him, and it suddenly feels as though the last six years have just fallen away. “How good it was,” she murmurs wistfully, her palm warm against his face.

Maybe those four little words shouldn’t make him feel as though she’s just handed him a winning lottery ticket, but they do. “Listen, Vee?”

Her fingertips trailing lazily up and down his chest, she gives him a sleepy glance. “Hmmm?”

He takes a deep breath, buoyed by the certainty that this is right. “I love you.”

“I know,” she chuckles softly, her bare thigh sliding across his as she lifts her face to his, her breath warm as she whispers the words against his mouth. “I love you too.”

~*~

lincoln/veronica, domfangirl, full circle, nc-17

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