Prison Break - The Wetsuit
Title: The Wetsuit
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 520
Summary: At some point, they’ve started to target his wetsuit. (Post-series, alternate canon, a bit crackastic.)
Author’s Note: I asked for prompts and filthy_bunny requested Lincoln in a wetsuit...
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
Also written for the leather / latex / rubber square of my second kink-bingo card. This can be part of the Secretive ‘verse or can be read as an independent ficlet.
At some point, they’ve started to target his wetsuit.
Lincoln doesn’t really mind.
He got used to Michael’s - and sometimes Sara’s - smartass comments on his shirts as well as his inability to properly work their buttons. Whatever. The wetsuit is rather new, though, and so are their jibes about it.
It’s not that Lincoln needs said wetsuit. Not at this time of the year in this climate anyway. Plus, the hood - when he uses it - makes him look like a dick; he’s not speaking entirely metaphorically here.
It’s that the wetsuit has its perks; well worth the aforementioned cracks. Tight glistening-with-water material plastered to his body, following his every move, hugging and showing off the goods? Perks. Women stare. A few men too, occasionally, but they’re more discreet than the women. Hell, Sara stares every now and then, often below the waistline, by the way: he’s caught furtive looks more than once, breathing picking up a bit and red bitten lips. Michael too watches, and sometimes loses a bit of his composure when Lincoln looks back and smirks.
Lincoln is not shallow and it’s not like he needs such artifice to get lingering looks, anyway. But he has abs and pecs and biceps, and the wetsuit is kinda flattering in more than one way (save for the hood). It would be dumb to have those assets and not use and enjoy them, right?
Moreover, the wetsuit gets Michael on his knees. Literally.
Lincoln never refuses help to get out of it. He doesn’t have to ask since Michael always shows up at just the right time to help. His brother lowers the zippers and never looks Lincoln in the eye while doing so. So smart and brainy Michael doesn’t care about what’s in Lincoln’s heart, eyes or brain in those moments. Only cares about slowly gliding his hands, sometimes his mouth too, over the rubbery material, following the hard planes and sharp angles of Lincoln’s muscles, relishing the way they bunch and relax beneath his fingers. He palms Lincoln’s ass, palms his crotch, and it only takes him a couple of minutes to make the budge in the wetsuit go from generous to downright obscene.
Michael finishes going after the zippers then, peels off the dark suit slowly and strokes or mouths every expanse of newly uncovered skin. By the time he pushes the piece of clothing down Lincoln’s hips, Linc is painfully hard, cock springing free and bobbing to attention. Michael never ever hesitates. He takes him in in one long and eager move, his mouth wet-hot and his lips tight around the hard shaft. Totally focused on the task at hand to the point that he doesn’t even look at Lincoln - and God knows Michael likes watching Lincoln when he’s getting him off. He breathes slow and hard, his eyes closed and his lowered eyelashes black and thick against his cheeks. Lincoln’s never sure what’s hotter, the skillful fellatio itself, or the intensity and devotion Michael puts into it.
By then, the wetsuit lays discarded and forgotten on the floor of the small shack behind the scuba shop - until next time.
-End-
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 520
Summary: At some point, they’ve started to target his wetsuit. (Post-series, alternate canon, a bit crackastic.)
Author’s Note: I asked for prompts and filthy_bunny requested Lincoln in a wetsuit...
Thanks to foxriverinmate for the beta.
Also written for the leather / latex / rubber square of my second kink-bingo card. This can be part of the Secretive ‘verse or can be read as an independent ficlet.
At some point, they’ve started to target his wetsuit.
Lincoln doesn’t really mind.
He got used to Michael’s - and sometimes Sara’s - smartass comments on his shirts as well as his inability to properly work their buttons. Whatever. The wetsuit is rather new, though, and so are their jibes about it.
It’s not that Lincoln needs said wetsuit. Not at this time of the year in this climate anyway. Plus, the hood - when he uses it - makes him look like a dick; he’s not speaking entirely metaphorically here.
It’s that the wetsuit has its perks; well worth the aforementioned cracks. Tight glistening-with-water material plastered to his body, following his every move, hugging and showing off the goods? Perks. Women stare. A few men too, occasionally, but they’re more discreet than the women. Hell, Sara stares every now and then, often below the waistline, by the way: he’s caught furtive looks more than once, breathing picking up a bit and red bitten lips. Michael too watches, and sometimes loses a bit of his composure when Lincoln looks back and smirks.
Lincoln is not shallow and it’s not like he needs such artifice to get lingering looks, anyway. But he has abs and pecs and biceps, and the wetsuit is kinda flattering in more than one way (save for the hood). It would be dumb to have those assets and not use and enjoy them, right?
Moreover, the wetsuit gets Michael on his knees. Literally.
Lincoln never refuses help to get out of it. He doesn’t have to ask since Michael always shows up at just the right time to help. His brother lowers the zippers and never looks Lincoln in the eye while doing so. So smart and brainy Michael doesn’t care about what’s in Lincoln’s heart, eyes or brain in those moments. Only cares about slowly gliding his hands, sometimes his mouth too, over the rubbery material, following the hard planes and sharp angles of Lincoln’s muscles, relishing the way they bunch and relax beneath his fingers. He palms Lincoln’s ass, palms his crotch, and it only takes him a couple of minutes to make the budge in the wetsuit go from generous to downright obscene.
Michael finishes going after the zippers then, peels off the dark suit slowly and strokes or mouths every expanse of newly uncovered skin. By the time he pushes the piece of clothing down Lincoln’s hips, Linc is painfully hard, cock springing free and bobbing to attention. Michael never ever hesitates. He takes him in in one long and eager move, his mouth wet-hot and his lips tight around the hard shaft. Totally focused on the task at hand to the point that he doesn’t even look at Lincoln - and God knows Michael likes watching Lincoln when he’s getting him off. He breathes slow and hard, his eyes closed and his lowered eyelashes black and thick against his cheeks. Lincoln’s never sure what’s hotter, the skillful fellatio itself, or the intensity and devotion Michael puts into it.
By then, the wetsuit lays discarded and forgotten on the floor of the small shack behind the scuba shop - until next time.
-End-