Pocket Holders Anonymous

Open Wounds

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 17:45:13 GMT

Summary: Michael makes a confession to Lincoln, however Lincoln doesn't react quite the way Michael had anticipated.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: Pre-Series, Alternate Universe
Characters: Lincoln Burrows, Michael Scofield
Genres: Angst
Pairing: None
Warnings: Drugs/Drug Use, Extreme Language, Incest, Rape, Sexual Situations, Slash
Notes: Written for coppala in round 4 of the Fic Exchange. Given the prompts New Year's Resolutions, memories of a first kiss and a walk in the rain.

Lincoln tried to bury his hands even deeper in his pockets, trying in vain to keep them from getting any colder. It was a losing battle, since they were already cold to the point of being numb.

He glanced up at the large clock at the end of the street. 8 pm. His dealer had better hurry up. He had promised he would spend the evening with Michael. They were both single this New Year's Eve, so they had decided they would spend it together this year.

Yet, here he was, standing in a freezing alley, waiting for his dealer. But after that, it was home to Michael. He's just some a little bit on the way home, then the rest after Michael went to bed. His brother would never even have to know about it.

***

Michael surveyed the living room. Everything was ready, perfect even. He was completely prepared. He was also a complete dork.

He sighed and sunk down onto the couch. He had been planning this night for months. He and his brother were both without girlfriends, so Michael had invited Lincoln to spend New Year's Eve with him. He had snacks, he had beer, and he had Star Wars. It was going to be a good night...if Lincoln ever showed up.

Michael checked his watch again. 8 pm. Lincoln was an hour late. Hopefully he was okay. Hopefully he remembered.

"Hopefully he didn't blow me off for some girl," Michael mumbled out loud.

***

Lincoln flipped up the collar of his coat and shivered. This was ridiculous. He glanced out at the clock again. 8:30. Fuck. Lincoln glanced around before pulling the remnants of a joint out of his pocket. Probably wasn't even enough to catch a buzz...but he was craving even just the taste.

He fumbled through his pockets to find his lighter, and then held the joint to the flame until the end was toasted red. He then brought it to his lips and took a long deep pull, the acrid smoke stinging his lungs. He held it in until it started to burn, then exhaled slowly. He felt a little warmer already. Another two hits and it was gone. Lincoln ground it out with his boot, and then buried his hands back in his pockets. He didn't quite have a buzz, but he felt a little less cold...and a little guiltier.

***

Michael was finishing his second cup of coffee when the clock hit 8:30. He sighed, and pondered making a third. He glanced out onto the balcony and decided what he really wanted was a cigarette. He pulled on a sweater then headed out through the sliding glass doors.

The night was quite warm, with a beautiful full moon illuminating the city. He fumbled with a match, struggling against the light breeze to get it lit. Finally he succeeded, the first drag burning his chest, but he suppressed the cough, holding it in.

He exhaled slowly, enjoying that dizzy feeling you get with that first cigarette after going weeks without one. He followed it with a deep drink of steaming coffee. He felt slightly more relaxed.

***

As Lincoln still stood waiting, he watched two young boys come out of the coffee shop across the street. They walked a few steps from the door, clutching their steaming mugs for warmth. The smaller boy dug out a lighter and passed it to the other, who lit a smoke. Lincoln watched how their hands lingered a little too long, how they stood a little too close...the tight grins and the lingering eyes. He knew that look, and he knew what the two boys would be doing later.

Lincoln leaned back against the bricks of the alley and let his mind wander back to years ago...back to when he and Michael were younger. Back to when they looked at each other like that...

He could remember the night vividly. They had only been living in the apartment a few weeks. Their mom had been dead for only a few months. Lincoln was lying in his room and had just sparked up a joint when Michael walked in without a word and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lincoln had tensed up, expecting to get yelled at, expecting to get a lecture. However, Michael had surprised him.

"Can I have a puff?" Lincoln quirked up an eyebrow

"Now why would you want any of this stuff? Last I heard, you were completely against it."

"Well, you seem to like it. I figure there must be something amazing about it, since you feel the need to smoke it constantly."

Lincoln ignored the sarcasm that had crept into his brother's voice. He grinned and got up off the bed.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked.

"I’m putting on some music. You cannot fully enjoy being stoned without Metallica." Lincoln put on the music, and turned it up, sounds of "Master of Puppets" filling the small room. Lincoln then returned to the bed and sat beside his brother.

He could feel Michael studying him and cleared his throat. He re-lit the joint, taking a deep pull off of it.

"Make sure when you take a hit..."

"I know,” Michael said, cutting him off and taking the joint from his hand.

"What do you mean you know?"

"I've been watching you a long time, Linc," Michael said, taking in a deep drag of the acrid smoke. Lincoln was impressed to see that his brother didn't even cough.

The two of them finished off the joint, Metallica still pounding in the background. Lincoln sprawled back on the bed, content and glad for the company.

"How come you're home tonight?" Michael demanded. Lincoln was slightly taken back by the hostility in his brother's voice.

"Because I didn't feel like going out. I figured you'd be glad to have me home for once."

"Usually you're out wining and dining one of your girlfriends."

Lincoln just grinned. "You're just jealous."

Michael snorted. "Jealous? Of what?"

"The fact that I have girlfriends."

"I have girlfriends," Michael protested. Lincoln’s grin spread.

"Let me rephrase that: You're jealous that I'm getting some from my girlfriends."

"You don't know I'm not getting any!"

Lincoln laughed. "I bet you don't even know how to kiss."

Lincoln's next comment was cut off as Michael leaned over and firmly planted his lips on Lincoln's. His mind spun as he tried to grasp what was happening, his brain trying to compute that this was Michael's tongue pressing against his lips. The kiss became more urgent, but Lincoln never kissed back, refusing to acknowledge that his body was screaming for him to take Michael right then and there on the bed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Michael pulled away, looking almost as shocked as Lincoln. Without another word, he got up and left the room.

"Sorry I'm late." Lincoln snapped back to reality, his dealer, Josh, standing in front of him.

"It's about fucking time," Lincoln growled.

"Listen, I don't need this, man. I got people to see and shit to do. Do you want the stuff or not?"

Lincoln thrust a 20 at the other man, which the dealer took and shoved in his pocket. "Don't fuckin' rip me off this time either. You rip me off, I rip your head off. Got it?"

Josh swallowed hard. "Sure man. I'll even through in another gram, free of charge."

"I just need the one. Hurry the fuck up, I got stuff to do."

"Hot date?" Josh asked, digging a small bag of weed out of his inside jacket pocket.

"Not quite," Lincoln said, taking the pot.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Linc."

"Fuck off," Lincoln muttered, pushing past the dealer. He already felt guilty enough. He headed across the street to the coffee shop, to grab a coffee and to roll up in the bathroom.

***

Michael sat with a fresh cup of coffee and a cigarette, watching CSI in awe. There were two men on the screen, in bed together and kissing passionately. Even 10 years ago you would never have seen something like that on TV. No wonder people felt too scared to come out, to let their true feelings show. The media, moreso than anything else, dictated what was "normal" in society. What was "normal" to feel and think about another man...

Michael leaned back, inhaling deeply. One of the men bore a striking resemblance to Lincoln. Michael watched the two men continue to kiss, his mind wandering back to that faithful night when he had truly turned his and Linc's relationship completely off the track of "normal."

They had been sharing a tiny run down apartment for several months. Lincoln went out and worked long shifts, while Michael continued with school and kept house. He rarely saw Lincoln for more than a few minutes each day. When he wasn't at work, he was out with one of his many female "friends"...getting stoned and fucking their brains out.

However, on this rare occasion, Lincoln was home for the evening. Michael wasn't sure what had occurred to bring about this shocker, and he didn't really care. His brother was home, and he was going to spend a little time with him.

He opened his brother's door without knocking. As per usual, Lincoln had a joint hanging from his lips. Lincoln had tensed up, probably expecting another lecture on the harm marijuana was doing to his body and mind. Michael decided to shock his brother for once.

"Can I have a puff?"

Lincoln quirked up an eyebrow. "Now why would you want any of this stuff? Last I heard, you were completely against it."

"Well, you seem to like it. I figure there must be something amazing about it, since you feel the need to smoke it constantly." Michael hadn't meant for that bitter edge to creep into his voice. Lincoln never seemed to notice, but he did very suddenly get off the bed and walk across the room.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked.

"Putting on some music. You cannot fully enjoy being stoned without Pink Floyd." Lincoln put on the music, and turned it up, sounds of "Dark Side of the Moon" filling the small room. He than returned to the bed and sat beside his Michael.

Michael stared at his brother, knowing he was making him uncomfortable, but not caring. Lincoln cleared his throat nervously, and then re-lit the joint, taking a deep pull off of it.

"Make sure when you take a hit..."

"I know,” Michael said, cutting him off and taking the joint from his hand. He really enjoyed the stunned look at his brother's face. Lincoln looked so cute when he was confused.

"What do you mean you know?"

"I've been watching you a long time, Linc," Michael said, taking in a deep drag of the acrid smoke. It burned worse than he had ever expected, but he held it in, determined not to cough. He succeeded and greatly relished the impressed look on his bother's face.

The two of them finished off the joint, Pink Floyd still pounding in the background. Michael later figured out that the song was "Comfortably Numb" and even in his cloudy state, Michael could understand why this was a song you would get stoned too. Even not stoned, it was still one of Michael's favorite songs after that night. Lincoln sprawled back on the bed, looking content.

"How come you're home tonight?" Michael demanded. The marijuana clouding his senses gave him the nerve to flat out ask this question with such a tone. Lincoln looked hurt, however, and Michael instantly regretted asking it in such a way.

"Because I didn't feel like going out. I figured you'd be glad to have me home for once."

"Usually you're out wining and dining one of your girlfriends."

Lincoln just grinned. "You're just jealous."

Michael snorted. "Jealous? Of what?"

"The fact that I have girlfriends."

"I have girlfriends," Michael protested. Lincoln’s grin spread.

"Let me rephrase that: You're jealous that I'm getting some from my girlfriends."

"You don't know I'm not getting any!"

Lincoln laughed. "I bet you don't even know how to kiss."

Lincoln was just opening his mouth to speak when Michael suddenly had the backbone to do what he had wanted to do for a long time. He leaned forward and planted his lips firmly upon Lincoln's. Michael thought his brother would push him away, but he didn't. Michael pushed his tongue against his brother's lips, which he parted willingly, allowing Michael access to his warm, hot mouth. Michael kissed him with even more fervor, until it hit him. The only reason Lincoln was even allowing this was because he was stoned and nobody else was there to fool around with.

Michael pulled quickly away from his brother, and made a quick exit from the room, feeling more like an idiot than he had ever felt before in his life.

Michael was pulled from his thoughts by the phone ringing. He grabbed it off the table and answered.

"Hello?"

"Mike?" It was Lincoln.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I, uh, got a little tied up. I'm on my way though."

"Well, hurry the hell up!" Michael could hear the anger creeping into his voice. He could also hear the thick sound in his brother's, and knew that he was high.

"I'm almost to the apartment."

"Just hurry up, okay?" There was a long pause.

"Are you mad at me, Mike?"

Michael could hear the guilt in Lincoln's voice. He knew his brother would already be feeling bad about being late. Michael was just glad he hadn't been with some woman.

"No, Linc. Just worried. Hurry, okay?"

"On my way, bro"

"Alright"

"Bye"

Michael turned off the phone and sighed. He should have told him he was mad. He should have yelled and cursed him out for not showing up on time. Told him how it hurt that pot was more important than him. Told him how badly he wanted him here. He should have told him all the things he had wanted to tell him for years.

That's when Michael decided. He was going to tell Lincoln tonight. He would lay everything out on the table and tell him how he truly felt. Tell him how much that night all those years ago had affected him. How he wished that that moment had happened many times after, how that moment should go even further....that he wanted them to go even further.

Michael cracked a beer and drank deeply. He was going to need to be drunk for this. He walked across the room and unlocked his door, then headed for the deck. He needed a few moments to clear his head before Lincoln showed up.

***

When Lincoln reached Michael's door, he knocked quietly, but got no response. He tried the knob, which turned easily. He entered, and shut the door quietly behind him. He scanned the room. There was food and beer set out, but no Michael. He than noticed the patio door was open slightly, and grabbed a beer off the coffee table as he headed outside.

Michael was standing back to the door, a beer in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

"Thought you quit," Lincoln said, cracking his beer.

"I'm just a casual smoker now," his brother said, without turning around.

"Casual smoker is still a smoker."

Michael grinned to himself, the gears in his brain still turning, trying to figure out how he was going to broach the sensitive topic of their relationship with his brother.

"I'm glad you made it," Michael said.

Lincoln grinned that irresistible grin. "Wouldn't have missed it, Little Brother."

"Well, you've been known to blow off plans before."

"I know, and I regret all those times too, believe me. That's my resolution this year, actually."

"What? To keep blowing me off?"

Lincoln snorted. "No, you goof. To stop blowing off my duties, my responsibilities." He fixed his gaze on his brother's. "To stop hurting the people who are important to me."

Michael held his gaze for a few moments, and then turned his eyes away.

"Speaking of family, have you been talking to LJ?"

Lincoln swallowed a mouthful of beer. "The other night actually. I invited him to come over here with me tonight, but he already had plans. A party and something about a girl."

"Turning out to be a real ladies man, isn't he?" Michael said with a grin. "Just like his dad."

"Just like his uncle too," Lincoln said off-handedly.

Michael felt himself blushing slightly. "If memory serves me, you had way more women than I did."

"Yeah, but you had better women."

"How do you figure?"

"Well," Lincoln said, looking thoughtful, "You had higher-caliber girls. Nice, respectful, bring-em-home-to-momma girls. I just took whatever I could get. The less morals the better." Lincoln could feel Michael studying him, and cleared his throat. "But, we're supposed to be looking toward the future. What's your resolution?"

"I don't really know yet." Michael replied. Lincoln glanced at his watch.

"Well, you've only got a couple hours left, boy."

Michael took a drag off his cigarette, looking thoughtful. "My resolution is to be more honest. To stop keeping things inside, and speak my mind. Tell people how I really feel."

"That's a good one," Lincoln said. "Now, can you stick to that?"

Michael put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the deck, exhaling his last drag slowly. "Come on. Let's go inside. We've got food to eat and movies to watch."

"And beer to drink," Lincoln added, raising his glass as he followed Michael back into the apartment.

The two men entered the apartment, where Lincoln instantly flopped down onto the couch, downing the rest of his beer. Michael stood, somewhat awkwardly, not knowing quite what to do with himself.

"Something wrong?" Lincoln asked.

"No," Michael replied, with a weak grin. "I've just had too much coffee, I think."

"Have another beer then," Lincoln said, noticing that Michael's bottle was empty.

"Yeah, good idea," Michael said, sitting on the couch beside his brother and opening another beer.

Lincoln picked up the remote, and started changing channels absently. There didn't seem to be a whole lot on, but that was no real surprise.

"Did you want to start the movies?" Michael asked.

Lincoln shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We won't get through them all."

"Sure we will. I figured you'd just be spending the night anyway."

"Well, yeah," Lincoln replied. "But I don't really know if I can stay up until 8 o'clock in the morning."

"We used to all the time," Michael said.

"I'm not quite as young as I used to be," Lincoln said with a smile. "Hey, have you seen this yet?"

Michael glanced at the TV, not sure what exactly the movie was. There was a young, nice-looking boy in a cowboy hat.

"I don't know. What is it?"

"Brokeback Mountain," Lincoln replied. Michael was slightly shocked. This could be sufficiently awkward, considering what he wanted to talk about with his brother.

"Ummm, no actually. I haven't"

"I've only ever saw part of it," Lincoln said, setting down the remote and taking a drink of his beer. "It didn't seem too bad. It’s actually supposed to be a real good movie. Supposed to be real graphic too."

"You want to watch a movie with graphic, gay sex scenes?" Lincoln shrugged.

"It's supposed to be a good movie. I don't care who's having sex in it. I like westerns anyway."

"I don't think this is your typical western."

They sat in silence, watching the screen. Lincoln appeared to be oblivious to how awkward Michael was feeling with this whole situation. Michael needed to figure out a way to bring this up to his brother. He needed to do it before he lost his nerve.

"Do you have any pot?" Michael blurted out.

Lincoln turned and stared at his brother, open mouthed. "What?"

"Pot. Do you have any?"

Lincoln was unsure of how to answer the question. Was this some sort of a trap? "Why?"

"Because I want to smoke some. Why else would I ask?"

"I have a bit. Why do you want to smoke any?"

"I don't know. I just kind of had a craving, I guess. Neither of us needs to work tomorrow, it's New Year's Eve, why not let loose?"

Lincoln still stared at him, slightly wary of getting in trouble. This was so unlike Michael. He was up to something, that was for sure. He dug his pot and his papers out of his pocket.

"Just a small one?"

"Big enough to get us blasted."

"It takes a lot to get me blasted, Mike."

"Then enough to get me blasted. Geesh, I never thought I would see you so reluctant to smoke a joint, Linc."

"I never thought I would see you wanting to smoke a joint!"

"Are you going to roll it or not?"

"God, you're so demanding tonight," Lincoln muttered, as he started to roll up a good-sized joint. If Mike wanted to get blasted, he would get him blasted.

Michael watched as Lincoln rolled the joint. Michael realized that it really was an art, slightly akin to the origami Michael adored so much. Lincoln finished it up, and then dug out his lighter.

"You want me to light it?"

"You rolled it. Go for it."

Lincoln sparked it up, taking a few drags off it before he passed it off to his brother. "Don't take in too much at once. It's some pretty potent stuff."

The two brothers continued to pass it back and forth, until it was gone and Lincoln put it out in one of his empty beer bottles. Michael cracked another beer, his head feeling very fuzzy and heavy. When he moved his limbs, it felt like he was underwater. Lincoln observed his brother observing his hands, and laughed out loud.

"You seem a little stoned, Little Brother."

"More than a little bit," Michael said with a giggle. Lincoln laughed even harder, than stopped as his eyes landed on the television screen. Michael's eyes followed his brother's. not sure what had intrigued him.

"What?"

"They're so going to do it," Lincoln said.

"Well, yeah. That's kind of the point of the movie."

"Yeah, but they're not really going to show it, are they?"

"Yeah. You said yourself that it was graphic!"

"I know. I just didn't think..." Lincoln trailed off as things started to get quite heated on the screen.

The two brothers watched the slightly awkward love scene with a mix of amusement, curiosity and slight awkwardness. When the scene had finished, Michael's mouth suddenly started working faster than his brain.

"Have you ever done that?" he blurted out.

Lincoln stared at him for a moment. "What, have sex?"

"No. Well yes..." Michael started to blush. "I meant have you ever done that...with a guy?"

"You mean sex? With a guy?"

"Yeah," Michael said, swallowing hard.

"Ummm, no. Why the hell would you ask something like that?"

"I was...ummm, just curious I guess. It's the pot. My brain is not functioning right."

"Oh...yeah." Lincoln sat in silence for a few moments. "Have you...you know?"

"Have I?"

"Yeah. Have you done...that?"

Michael cleared his throat. This wasn't exactly how he had planned for this to go, but close enough.

"Ummm, not that exactly."

"Oh, but something...like that?" Lincoln asked awkwardly.

Michael saw this as possibly his chance to do it. It was now or never. "I kissed a guy once."

"Really? That was it? Just a kiss?"

"Yeah, just a kiss. I wanted more though. I still want more, but I don't think he does."

"So, you're saying that you are, you know. You're gay?"

Michael half smiled. "I don't really think I'm gay. Moreso bi, I guess. I fall in love with people for who they are on the inside. Doesn't matter at all what's on the outside."

"So who was it?"

"What?"

"Who was it? Who was the guy you kissed?" Lincoln asked, his voice sounding slightly too demanding.

Michael thought he also sensed a hint of jealousy. That made him smile. Maybe he was wrong...maybe Lincoln wanted this too. "It was you, stupid."

Lincoln felt himself tense up. He had been thinking about the very incident earlier. He mulled over Michael's words in his head. Then the words his brother had spoken hit him like a brick.

"Wait. You said you had wanted..."

"Wanted more? I know. I do."

Lincoln still didn’t understand. Actually, he understood fully, it was just admitting the truth of it all. "Michael..."

"I know, Linc. It's wrong, it's a sin, it's sick. I know. I can't help it though! Believe me, I've tried to rationalize it. I've tried to lie to myself, but it keeps coming back to that night and that moment."

"But Mike, it never should have happened! I don't know what you were thinking!" But, in truth, he knew exactly what his brother had been thinking. He had to struggle with those same feelings every time he and Michael had to share a bed, every time he saw Michael with his shirt off...

"I was thinking that I needed you, Linc! It tore me apart that you would rather spend all your time with those whores instead of me! Was I not as deserving of your love?"

"Of course you deserve it! Of course I love you, Mike! You know that!"

"But you don't love me like that," Michael said, motioning toward the TV screen.

Lincoln put his hands up to his face, rubbing his forehead. Where had this come from? Had Michael been feeling this all these years? Why had he never said anything? Though Lincoln had never said anything either... But this could not happen. He would not let it happen.

"Don't tell me you never think about that kiss," Michael said quietly.

"Of course I think about it!" Lincoln exploded. "How could I not think about it? It was wrong Michael! It never should have happened!"

"But you're glad it did."

Lincoln stared at his brother. "What is it you want from me Michael?"

"I want more, Lincoln. I want you to be mine. I want you to love me. Really love me. I want you to do to me what you've done to all those women. I want to feel your touch. I want to feel your body. I want to feel you inside of me."

Lincoln felt his breath catch. God, he wanted this. He had wanted this for years, but had refused to act on his feelings. He couldn't warp Michael like this. He couldn't drag him down into perversion. Yet, he wanted to feel those lips...those hands...that body. The thought of it was making his body stir.

"We can't" He said quietly. "Michael, you know we can't."

"But we can," Michael said, sliding closer to his brother. "What right does anybody in this fucked up world have to tell us what's right? Linc, we both want it. I can see it in your eyes. Just take me, Lincoln, I'm willing. I've always been willing." Michael had begun to slide his hand up Lincoln's thigh.

Lincoln moaned, shutting his eyes. He had been craving that touch for years. "Michael, I hope you know that once it's done, there's no going back. Our relationship will never be he same."

"I know," Michael whispered his lips close to Lincoln's ear." It will be even better."

Lincoln moaned, and grabbed the back of Michael's head, driving their lips together. This time, Lincoln was kissing just as desperately as Michael, just as eager and hungry as the younger man. Michael's hand slid up to the hardness in the front of Lincoln's jeans, making Lincoln thrust his hips against that groping hand. Now Michael's tongue was in his mouth, and Lincoln was pulling painfully on his hair.

"Bedroom," Lincoln gasped. "Now."

Michael obliged, disengaging his hand, and following Lincoln eagerly to the bedroom. Michael's head was spinning. This was it. This was finally it. He knew that after this, Lincoln would he his, only his. Forever.

Michael never even had time to shut the door before Lincoln had hold of his arm, shoving him forward onto the bed. If Michael wanted this, he was going to get it. There was no turning back now. Michael fell roughly onto the blanket and Lincoln was on top of him, tugging off his shirt and ravaging his chest and stomach with rough, wet kisses. Michael moaned loudly.

Lincoln suddenly sat up onto his knees, and started to undo his belt. Michael was watching him, his eyes large. Lincoln thought he saw a hint of apprehension on his brother's face.

"Take your pants off" he said gruffly.

Michael obliged, his hands shaking as he fumbled with his zipper. This was going a little faster than he had anticipated. Lincoln was being rougher then he wanted.

"Lincoln, can we maybe..."

"Get on your stomach," Lincoln said, stripping off his own shirt.

Michael rolled onto his stomach, just now beginning to wonder if this was going to hurt. Lincoln grabbed his brother's hip roughly with one hand, and lubed himself with spit and precum with his other. He rubbed himself against Michael's tight opening, feeling himself grow harder. He wanted this, oh god he wanted this, but it was wrong. In every possible way this was wrong. With one quick, hard motion, he drove himself clear up to the hilt into Michael.

Michael made a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a scream. It felt like he was being torn in two. There was a slight bit of pleasure as Lincoln's hard cock rubbed against his prostate, but the pain almost completely overwhelmed the feeling.

The heat and tightness of Michael's body was almost enough to drive Lincoln over the edge. He knew he should go gentle, he knew Michael was in pain. But, in some deep, dark region of his brain he was glad he was hurting Michael. He wanted Michael to suffer for driving him into this perversion. He wanted Michael to hate this and regret it. He wanted to drive any thoughts of ever doing this again from his brother's mind.

Michael moaned and Lincoln started pounding into him hard. He couldn't help but feel that Lincoln was trying to hurt him. He bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming.

"Lincoln, you're hurting me."

"Shut up," Lincoln snarled, increasing his tempo.

"Lincoln, I'm serious! Stop! This is hurting!" Michael cried, trying to pull himself away from his brother.

Lincoln drove Michael back down against the mattress. "This is what you wanted, Michael!" he cried, driving even harder into his brother's body. "You wanted this! You were the one pushing for it!"

Michael let out a strangled sound, this time it was definitely in pain. Lincoln almost smiled, and continued to drive into Michael. He could feel himself getting close to climax. Michael began to struggle against him, straining to get out from under Lincoln's grip. Lincoln put his full weight onto his brother, Michael's struggle and cries pushing him over the edge and with one final thrust he released his hot seed into his brother's body.

Lincoln lay on top of Michael, trying to catch his breath. Michael's body hitched, as he began to sob. Lincoln climbed off his brother, not sure who he was more disgusted with. He began to get dressed. Michael rolled into the fetal position on the bed, facing his brother.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Michael sobbed. "Why didn't you stop?"

"Because you wanted it!" Lincoln screamed! "I never wanted to go this far, Michael! We're brothers, you sick fuck! Why did you keep pushing me?"

"You didn't have to do it!" Michael screamed back. "You could have said no!"

"No, Michael! You would have kept pushing and pushing until you got what you want! Well, now you've got it! You got what you want! Are you happy? Did you enjoy it? Was it everything you imagined?"

"Stop!" Michael screamed, close to hysterics.

Lincoln finished dressing, and turned to leave the room.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Michael cried.

"I can't do this anymore," Lincoln said quietly, without turning around. "I just can't." He left the room without turning back. Michael heard the door slam behind him as he left.

It was raining when Lincoln left the building. Raining hard. He contemplated calling a cab, but then decided to walk. The rain was cold and felt good. What the fuck had he been thinking? Why did he do that? His resolution had been not to hurt the ones he loved! And look what he had just done! He had hurt Michael more than he ever thought he could. Fuck. He had raped him. He had just raped his brother! What kind of sick fuck was he anyway! He should never have even given in to Michael's advances. He should have told him that it could never happen and left right at that moment. He had just single-handedly destroyed their relationship, and he didn't know if he would ever be able to mend it.

***

Michael dressed slowly, the pain in his body almost unbearable. He was sure if he checked he would find blood. After carefully getting dressed, he made his way slowly out to the balcony. It was pouring down rain and the cold drops felt soothing on his body. He thought he could make out his brother's silhouette quite a way down the street. What the hell had Lincoln been thinking? It was almost as if he had been punishing Michael.

It was then that Michael began to think it had all been his fault. He had been the one pushing Lincoln to do this. However, he had thought it had been what Lincoln wanted too. Michael also realized how much pain being open and honest had caused him. He probably was not going to hear from his brother for a long time.

He watched Lincoln disappear around the corner, the cold rain mixing with the tears on his cheeks.

Intro Post for Michael!

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 15:36:41 GMT

Ten Favorite Things:
1) A perfectly brewed cup of coffee
2) Rainy days with a good book
3) Outdoor concerts
4) Red-heads
5) The ease with which I canconfuse my brother to the point where he'll judt give up on the arguement
6) Satin sheets
7) The way winter sun reflects off the snow
8) Johnny Depp's acting
9) Those t-shirts with corny and often inappropriate slogans on the front
10) Freedom

Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break

Another Fic

Thu, 22 Feb 2007 22:51:20 GMT

Author: pocket_holder
Title: What Teddy Had to Say
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: T-Bag,
Prompt: 031-Death
Rating: I would say NC-17
Warnings: Language, Violence, Incest, Charcter Death
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I always thought that when the time came when I had to this it would be easy. Granted, I never imagined it would actually come to this point, and if it did, I never figured it would be so soon. But what's the point now? What have I got left? Susan and the kids are gone. Jimmy's gone. Maytag's gone. All of em' taken from me with no regard for the fact that I would be left all alone with the world. The world is a big scary place, and she don't smile kindly upon a murderin' rapist now does she? Oh boys, all them there psychiatrists are gonna' have a field day with this one. They treated me like a fucking lab rat anyway. They gonna' cream their jeans once they get their hands on this. I suppose I better give em' something wothr reading then, hadn't I? Beer has only touched my tongue once and after one mouth full I threw up all over Jimmy's truck. Even the smell of the rancid shit turns my stomach. That's cause Daddy drank beer and beer is part of wht turned Daddy into that monster. The monster who liked to rape and beat and spit and cuss. Made him break me and make me bleed. Make me empty and shattered. I loathe him. I hate him. Hate everything he did and all of the things he didn't do. I was so happy when the rotten bastard died. It brings me great joy to know he's rotting in the bug infested dirt. I hate what I do to myself as well. I hate shooting all that stuff into my veins, but it helps me escape the memories and the nightmares and the terror. It makes me brave. It makes me untouchable. I like to torture people. I like to fuck with their minds and get inside their heads. Bend them to my will and break them to build myself up. I like to break them and make them bleed and scream and beg. Everyone thinks I have no remorse though. That I don't care about the lives I snuff out. At the time I don't, but afterwards I realize that I am just like him. After all the hatred and the oaths that I would never be like the useless fuck, I'm just the same. Raping and beating. What can you expect though? I'm just the inbred seed of a redneck father and his retard sister. You never expected any better, did you? I was set up for failure from the very start. That's what I am. A sin. An abomination. The spawn of a too-shallow gene pool. A plague on this very earth. However, I am the last. It stops with me. Once I am gone this vile seed of the Bagwell's will be wiped from this planet and everyone can breathe a sigh of relief. All my life I have been demeaned and tore-down to the lowest. Scum. Retard. Cousin-fucker. Queer. Daddy's little cock-sucker. Fag. I've never considerd myself a queer, but that's what I am, ain't I? I'm a fuckin' queer. I never planned on screwin' around with Jimmy. But Jimmy was the first person to ever care. It didn't matter that he as kin. It didn't matter tht he was a guy. He loved me. But, now Jimmy's gone. Him and his baby son. Abruzzi did that. I suppose that don't matter, cause Abruzzi is gone too.But him, god-fearin, bible-thumpin Abruzzi had an innocent man and his precious little boy gunned down like common criminals. What a fucking hypocrite. I hate hypocrites. They say it makes it easier if you forgive. You can move on if you forgive. How the fuck do you forgive a man who killed the only person you ever loved and then lobs your fuckin hand off with a fuckin axe? I'm glad he's dead. I wish he had of died when I had slit his fuckin' throat. Yup. That was me too. Not like you'll be able to do anything about it now though, eh? Then there is Scofield. I suppose, him I have to thank. He got me out of that concrete cess-pool. All be it grudgingly, but still. I think Pretty may just be the first person I have ever admired. He was a genuine good man, and there ain't many of those left. Have a little faith, he said. That's easy for him, with his brains, and good looks and that big, burly brother of his beside him, and gettin' all that lovin' from that good woman doctor. See, that there, with Pretty and Sink, that's how famalies are supposed to be. Carin', and always lookin' out for each other. Never givin' up. Not molestin' and bustin' teeth and treating you like nothin' but trash. The one shining time in my life was the time I was with my Susie-Q however. Now that there was one good woman, and we could of had a beautiful life together, but she got spooked. She thought that man that killed all them kids down in 'Bama was the same man that was sittin' at her dining room table. I would never hurt Susan, and I would never lay one single finger on them precious kids. But, they turned her against me and she was scared. Suppose, I can't really blame her. I knew she dind't want to go with me, back to my home, but I thought if I could just get her there, just make her see...see that I was changed and that I loved her and that it hurt so bad that she would even think I would do such vile things to her children. I thought if I told her about Daddy...about growin' up that she might understand, that she might see why I was such a broken and twisted man. She didn't understnd though. No one understands what that kind of upbringin' can do to a boy. So, I let her go, even though it damn near killed me to do it. But, I wanted Susie to be happy, and she was never gonna' be with me. So, I called the cops. Told them where they were. I was long gone by then. I did the last few things that I needed to do, and now we have come to this point. Tell my Susie-Q that I just can't make it in this big lonely world without her. She was the only thing that kept me going. Tell them kids that I loved them, and to let their Momma know that I was never anything but good to them. Make sure this reaches them shrinks at Fox River. They've been waiting a long time for a glimpse into my mind. I thought I'd be more scared when it came to the end. But, I guess I'll get to be with Maytag now, and I really did care for that boy. Tell Scofield I forgive him for that. I suppose ya'll be wonderin' whatever happened to all that there money? Well, Scofield will know. Whether he'll tell you is up to him. Just tell him to go bird watching...and to follow that Europeon Gold Finch. He'll know what I'm talkin' about. I'd rather not be buried in the Bagwell plot, but that'll be up to whoever takes care of that sort of thing. That's it, I suppose. That sweet chariot has finally come to carry me home.

Theodore Bagwell

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 12:53:56 GMT

Author: pocket_holder
Title: Life
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: T-Bag, Michael, Lincoln, Abruzzi, C-Note, Sucre, Haywire, Tweener
Prompt: 030 - Life
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Language, Implied Violence
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Life is the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. It is believing in the Will and the Word of Jesus Christ, Our Savior. Life is forgiveness and redemption and selflessness. It is being good and doing good and seeing good in people who others believe are beyond hope. It is showing the light to those who think God has turned His back on them. It is loving the sinner, but condemning his sin.

Life is family. Life is your child. It is waking up Saturday morning and watching cartoons on the couch with your daughter while your wife cooks a wonderful breakfast. Life is pride in your country, love for your country, being willing to die for your country. It is doing whatever it takes to provide for your family and make sure they are happy. It is doing whatever it takes to protect them and make sure they are safe.

Life is confusion and fog. It is a mystery of deceit and lies and conspiracy. It is medication and white jumpsuits, play dough and paints. It is knowing that you are not crazy, but the government knows that you know and they want to keep you quiet. Life is angels and demons, tunnels and paths. Is it the map and the secret that it holds. It is the pieces and the puzzle and the man that wears it all.

Life is the Brother and the Son. It is having hope and faith when it seems the end is near. It is trying not to let your regrets and your failures swallow you up. Life is knowing that it has all come to this point because of the path you have chosen. It is being able to accept that the ones you love are hurting and that it is all your fault. It is these walls, these thoughts, and this bed. Life, above all else, should be treasured while you have it.

Life is numbers, formulas and equations. It is physics and mathematics. It is knowing what matters and who matters. Life is fighting to your last dying breath to ensure life for an innocent man. It is having faith and having the faith of those you love. It is being your brother’s keeper. It is architecture and blueprints. It is about hope and having a little faith. Life is worth preserving.

Life is about love. It is about happiness, faith and passion. It is about feeling her warm soft body in your arms. It is about your child growing inside of her. Life is about doing everything within your power to make sure she is happy. It is striving to prove to her family that you are a good man. It about good behavior to make sure you get out and can make a life with her and your unborn child.

Life is lust and pain. It is warm flesh and hot blood. It is about love and punishment being intertwined into the same thing. It is about being alone because no one understands. It’s about forgetting your past and figuring out who you can fuck in the near future. Life is about punishing those who have done you wrong. It is about all the pretty little things and making them bleed because of all the things Daddy did.

Life is about the street and your boys. It is about the beat and the flow. About walking the walk and talking the talk to make yourself brave. Life is about trying to overcome all that you have been through. It’s about trying to accept that you were born in the wrong skin. Life is about being tough to make sure they keep their hands off of you. It’s about being the big man and wearing a mask, because on the inside you are so scared.

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 12:45:48 GMT

Author: pocket_holder
Title: Earth
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: T-Bag, Momma Bagwell, Daddy Bagwell, Original Characters
Prompt: 053 - Earth
Rating: PG
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Being an only child, Teddy had often been lonely. He tried to play with the other children on the his road, but it never worked out well. A few of the children who used to play with him weren’t allowed anymore. Their parents had said Teddy was bad, so now they wouldn’t play with him.

Teddy didn’t think he was a bad kid. He was always nice to the other kids, and shared the few toys that he had. He even made sure they played outside if his Daddy was home and on a drunk. Momma even made them lemonade sometimes if she was feeling well that day.

Becky Taylor, the closet thing he had ever had to a best friend, had tried to explain it to him once. In all her nine year old wisdom, she had said:

"Momma says yer’ trailer trash. That’s why I can’t play over at yer’ house."

"But you live in a trailer too," Teddy had pointed out. Becky shrugged.

"I know. But, my Daddy doesn’t want me around yer Daddy. He says yer’ Daddy’s a bad man."

"He is." Teddy said bluntly. "But I never get you over when he’s around."

"I know," Becky said sadly.

They sat quietly on the Teddy’s porch steps, each lost in their own nine year old thoughts.

"I know!" Teddy exclaimed suddenly. "I can just come over to yer’ house and play! That way yer’ Momma and Daddy won’t hafta worry!" Becky hung her head.

"Daddy don’t want me around you either, Teddy. He’s worried yer’ like yer’ Daddy. I told him you wasn’t, but he didn’t care."

Teddy felt tears prickling his eyes, but managed to hold them back. When he spoke, his voice was thick.

"I’m gonna’ miss playin’ wit’ you, Becky."

"Oh Teddy!" She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "I’ll miss you too! I’ll write", she promised, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I promise. I’ll write. Daddy can’t keep me from writin’ letters!"

Becky never wrote. If she saw him at church, she would smile and speak politely to him. But, Teddy’s family was rarely in church because his Daddy was usually hung over on Sunday mornings.

So, Teddy just played by himself out in the yard. The only real toys he had were his Momma’s dolls. They were better than nothing. Teddy was just careful not to let his Daddy catch him with them.

His Daddy had only caught him once with the dolls. Teddy had been playing in the backyard and hadn’t heard him pull in. His Daddy had torn the two dolls to pieces. He then spit in Teddy’s face and called him a fag. Teddy hadn’t known what that word meant, but he knew that it wasn’t nice.

Teddy had cried for a long time after his Daddy had gone into the trailer. Then he had dug a hole in the dirt with his hands, just deep enough to bury the two dolls. It had made him so sad to see the tiny, broken doll parts in that hole. He covered them over, smoothing the earth so you couldn’t tell that it had been dug up. Their whole lawn was dirt anyway.

Afterwards, Teddy had gone inside and washed his hands. He couldn’t get the dirt from under his nails, and gave up after his fingers were sore from scrubbing. Then he had went into his Momma’s room and apologized for getting her dolls broken. His Momma had just smiled in her childish way and gave him three more to play with. Teddy kissed her, then went and hid the dolls in his sock drawer.

From then on, Teddy always played in the front yard so he could see his Daddy coming up the dirt road. When he would see the old pick-up truck coming, he would quickly bury his dolls in the earth. His Daddy never caught him, but he always complained that Teddy had dirt under his fingernails.

Fic for the_last_shadow

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 02:25:23 GMT

Author: pocket_holder
Title: I Should Tell You
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: T-Bag/Michael
Prompt: 096 - Writer's Choice
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, sex, implied incest, language
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
*dedicated to the_last_shadow

Michael sat on the kitchen floor with his knees up, leaning against the cupboards. How had it come to this point? Michael’s intention had been to get Lincoln out of prison, and he had accomplished that. But how had it come to this point?

It was just supposed to be he and Lincoln. Just him and his big brother. Somehow they had ended up with six other guys coming with them. Now two of those guys were dead . . . one was just a kid. Just a fucking kid. The amount of guilt Michael carried around on his shoulders was phenomenal.

Michael and Lincoln had gone their separate way from the rest of the guys within days after escaping. But somehow the Southern Sleazebag had ended up back with them. The worst of the worst. Fucking T-Bag.

Not long after they had escaped, a connection of Michael’s had set them up in a tiny run down apartment. Pull out couch, no hot water, roach infested . . . but it was safe. Apparently, T-Bag had connections too. He managed to track the brothers down and cause a big enough scene that they had to leave, and since T-Bag knew where they were, they had to take him along.

Now they were in a shit-hole trailer owned by one of T-Bag’s Klan buddies and, the icing on the cake, LJ was with them now. The trailer was on the outskirts of the town where LJ was last spotted. Sure enough, Lincoln went out and found him. Another mouth to feed, another person to take care of. Michael didn’t know how much more he could take.

Michael leaned his head back against the cupboard. Sleeping not fifty feet away from a child-raping psychopath in a rat-infested trailer. Who said life on the run wasn’t glamourous? He squinted as the overhead light suddenly came on. It was LJ.
“Oh. Hey Uncle Mike,” he said, as he walked to the fridge and dug out the orange juice. “Um . . . what are you doing on the floor?” Michael smiled slightly.
“Thinking.” LJ poured himself a glass full of the juice and then sat down on the floor next to his uncle.
“You do that a lot, don’t you?”
“Too much,” Michael said, rubbing his eyes. He cast a sideways look at his nephew. “Why aren’t you in bed?” LJ shrugged.
“Just watching TV.”
“With your dad?”
“No, he went to bed. T-Bag’s still up though.”
“You know your father doesn’t want you alone with him.”
“I know.”
“And if he ever . . . ”
“He hasn’t laid a hand on me Uncle Mike.” LJ held up his hand.”Scouts’ honor.”
“Your dad would kill him.”
“I know,” LJ said, draining his glass. He stood up and put his glass in the sink. “Well, I’m off to bed. Try to get some sleep, Uncle Mike.”
“Night LJ.”

Michael sat a few minutes longer than hoisted himself up off the floor. He put the orange juice that LJ had left on the counter back in the fridge and flicked off the light as he left the kitchen.

He entered the living room to find T-Bag with his head flopped onto the back of the couch, snoring loudly with his mouth open. Michael observed him with disgust and then headed toward the room he shared with his brother. Then he heard it.
“Breaking news: Michael Scofield possibly spotted.” Michael’s blood ran cold. He stood staring at the television. “More on this breaking story after this brief commercial break.” Michael back up to the couch, not taking his eyes off the TV, and sank down onto the cushion. This was bad. Really bad.
SWITCH
T-Bag felt the couch shift next to him. He slid open one eye to see the Pretty sitting next to him. T-Bag held back a smile. Pretty looked frustrated. One hand was sitting balled up on his knee while the other rubbed his temple. T-Bag opened the other eye, his tongue snaking out over his lower lip. He slowly placed his hand on Michael’s thigh. Michael jumped about a foot off the couch.

“Tense, Pretty?” Michael was visibly shaken.
“The news. Apparently I was spotted.”
Too bad for you,” T-Bag drawled.
“If they catch me, they catch you too,” Michael snapped.
“Not necessarily. If that news woman says they know your whereabouts, I’m gone.”
“I’ll rat you out. I’ve got no problem doing it.” T-Bag stretched, his knees popping.
“Just remember, you get caught and your precious brother is toast.”
“If they know I’m here, I’ll make sure Linc and LJ are out of here. You’re going down with me though.” T-Bag grinned.
“Then I’ll rat your brother out. Lose-lose situation, Pretty.” Michael glared at the other man. “However, I may be persuaded otherwise,” T-Bag continued, rubbing his hand up Michael’s thigh.

Michael slapped his hand away.
“Shut up. The news is on.”
“Michael Scofield of the infamous Fox River Eight was spotted earlier today,” the news woman said. “Authorities in Framingham, Massachusetts are currently following a lead that Scofield was spotted earlier today in a convenience store. Authorities have not confirmed whether Scofield’s brother, death row inmate Lincoln Burrows, or any of the other escaped convicts are suspected to be with Scofield.”
SWITCH
Michael laughed, almost hysterically.
“Massachusetts?” He gasped in between laughs. “Massachusetts! That’s pretty much as far as you could possibly get from here!”
“You’re free for another day, my dear,” T-Bag said, placing his hand back on Michael’s thigh. Michael slapped his hand away and stood up.
“Why do you insist on doing that? You know I’m never going to give in. I’ve made it quite that I’m not interested.” T-Bag grinned back at him.
“You know what they say, Fishie. If at first you don’t succeed . . . ”
“Cut your losses and piss off?” T-Bag gaped at him and Michael laughed as he left the living room.

Michael walked down to the end of the hall to the bedroom he was sharing with Lincoln. Originally, Lincoln had wanted LJ to share the room with him, to ensure that T-Bag didn’t get anywhere near the boy. However, the room only had one bed and being a teenage boy, there was no way LJ was going to share a bed with his father.

So, LJ took the smaller bedroom down the hall and Michael ended up sharing the bigger bedroom, and the bed, with Lincoln. It wasn’t too bad though. The bed was fairly big and it reminded Michael of when he and Lincoln used to share a bed when they were kids.

Michael unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. He rubbed his hand s down his bare chest and over his stomach, admiring his tattoos. He had to keep them covered up all the time because they had released pictures of it. It pained Michael. He adored his tattoos and hated having to keep them concealed all of the time.

Michael undid his belt and stripped down to his briefs. He flopped down on the bed to remove his socks. He hated wearing socks to bed. Michael glanced over at Lincoln, who was sprawled on his stomach, taking up most of the bed. Michael debated on waking him up to tell him about the news clip. Michael was really riled up because of the fear, and the relief that had followed. He decided to tell Lincoln

“Linc,” Michael said, grabbing his brothers leg and shaking it. No response. “Linc!” Michael said, louder. His brother could sleep through a train ripping through the room.

Michael climbed onto his hands and knees on the bed, and slapped the back of Lincoln’s head quite hard. Lincoln groaned and rolled over toward Michael, cracking open one eye.
“What do you want? What time is it?” He asked groggily.
“I was spotted today.”
“That’s nice,” Lincoln replied, closing his eyes. Then they snapped back open. “You were spotted? Where? When?”He was now wide awake.
“In Massachusetts,” Michael replied.

Lincoln stared at him for a moment and then groaned.
“Don’t do that to me!”He cried, putting his brother in a headlock and pulling him down onto the bed.
“I couldn’t resist,” Michael said, muffled by his brother’s armpit. Lincoln released him and laughed. “God, you stink!” Michael gasped.
“I showered this morning!” Lincoln replied, pretending to be offended.

Michael climbed underneath the blankets, shivering.
“It scared me though.” He said.
“What? The smell?”
“No!” Michael laughed. “The news, when they said I was spotted.”
“Yeah, but obviously it wasn’t you.”
“I know. But it still scared me,” Michael said, turning off the lamp Lincoln had left on for him.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” Lincoln said, putting his arm across Michael’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll protect you.”
“I know,” Michael said, resting his cheek against Lincoln’s forehead. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to protect you.”
“That’s not your job,” Lincoln said quietly, planting a light kiss on Michael’s shoulder. **
SWITCH
T-Bag tossed and turned under the light blanket he had. It was fucking cold in this shit-hole. He curled up on his side in the fetal position and shivered. He wished he had Michael to curl up with. That would warm him up. Fuck. Anybody to curl up with would be nice. No, that wasn’t true. It was Michael he wanted. Or little pretty. LJ.

T-Bag licked his lips. Yeah. Either one. Or both even. Fuck Lincoln. Lincoln could sit out. T-Bag smiled. Yeah. Pretty and Little Pretty.

He rolled over onto his back picturing Michael in the prison showers. Those incredible tattoos wet and glistening. Fuck, that boy’s body was a beautiful thing to behold. He had enjoyed his showers a lot more once Pretty had arrived. After the shower he’d usually go back to his cell and fuck his current boy-toy to get rid of his raging boner, like the one straining against his pants currently.

T-Bag loosened the drawstring on his jogging pants and released his throbbing cock. LJ was alone, he thought, while slowly stroking himself. He could get LJ to relieve his tension . . . no. Too risky. The Pretty was a light sleeper. He’d hear them.

Mmm . . . The Pretty. T-Bag stroked himself faster, thinking of Michael in the shower once again. Those well-built arms, that flat stomach, that hot, firm ass. Those sexy rosebud lips that T-Bag wanted so badly to feel wrapped around his cock.

T-Bag moaned quietly. He wanted Michael. Correction: he would have Michael. He needed to have him. He needed to feel firm flesh under his fingers, a beating pulse under his lips, a warm, hot . . .

He released his warm seed all over his stomach and gasped, barely keeping Michael’s name from escaping his lips. He lifted his arms above his head, stretching, joints popping. He fell asleep almost immediately, a smile on his lips and Michael on his mind.
SWITCH
Michael was just about asleep when Lincoln spoke.
“Did LJ go to bed?”
“Yeah. He went before I did.”
“Good,” Lincoln sighed. “I just don’t want him alone with T-Bag.”
“I know.”
“I’ll kill the fucker if he touches LJ.”
“I know.” Lincoln pulled Michael closer and snuggled into his shoulder.
“I love you.”
“I know.” Lincoln’s pinched Michael’s side. Michael laughed. “I love you too, Linc.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” Lincoln mumbled, almost asleep.

Michael moaned, not quite awake. He could feel warm, rough hands on his hips and a hot, wet mouth on his cock. His hips rocked slightly as the skillful tongue worked the head of his member. The hands gripped him tighter and he felt teeth drag lightly up his shaft. Michael gasped, opening his eyes to stare up at the cracked white ceiling.
“Faster. Don’t stop,” he moaned.
“Feel good, Pretty?” Michael’s eyes snapped down to see T-Bag between his spread legs, staring up at him with a smile on his lips.

Michael started awake, his cock throbbing. He sat bolt upright in bed. Holy fuck, he thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He glanced over at Lincoln, who was still fast asleep. He felt sick. He was disgusted by the dream, but he was even more disgusted that he had an erection from it. Fuck.

Michael reached over the edge of the bed and picked up his watch from his pile of clothes. 5:16. He needed a shower. He felt absolutely filthy. He climbed out of bed, through his watch onto his crumpled slacks and quickly pulled his briefs back on. He then headed down the hall to the bathroom.

He entered and shut the door quietly behind him. He debated on whether he should shower this early . . . but Lincoln and LJ were heavy sleepers, so it shouldn’t wake them. Michael walked over to the shower and cranked the hot water as far as it would go. He wanted to scrub his skin until it was raw.

The water took along time to heat up, so Michael took a moment to examine himself in the mirror over the scummy sink. He looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and very dark underneath, and he had an overgrowth of stubble due to the lack of razors. His cheeks were hollowed and he was losing weight.

Michael sighed. He wasn’t graced with Lincoln’s looks that was for sure. Lincoln had that kind of ruggedness that drove women crazy. He always looked good. No matter if it was first thing in the morning, the middle of the night, or in the midst of a drunken rage, he was till hot.

He came back to reality and his reflection was obscured by steam. He peeled off his briefs and climbed into the near-scalding shower. He stood directly under the spray, letting the water run down his face. It felt so good to be getting clean.

He filled his hand with some no-name, strawberry shampoo and lathered up his hair. His hair was finally starting to grow longer, which was fine with him. It would make him harder for people to recognize him when he was out in public. Michael had his eyes shut, massaging his scalp when he heard the bathroom door open and close.
“Linc? Is that you?”

No response. Michael opened his eyes, straining to see through the dingy shower doors. It really didn’t help when the shampoo ran down into his eyed and started burning.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shutting his eyes and turning his face back into the spray. “If you were trying to sneak up on me, it didn’t work. Get those clothes off and get in here with me.”

After a few moments Michael heard the shower door open. He kept his face in the spray and his back to his brother, anticipating the moment when he would feel wet skin pressed against his back.

He could feel Lincoln’s closeness, but not his touch. Michael smiled into the shower spray.
“Why are you so shy this morning?” Michael got a response as fingers traced ever so lightly down his spine. Michael shivered despite the hotness of the shower. He turned his face away from the spray and opened his eyes. Thankfully, they weren’t burning anymore. “What are you doing awake so early anyway?”
“I’m a light sleeper.”

Michael whirled around and cranked his hip off of one of the knobs.
“Now, just calm down, Pretty,” T-Bag drawled.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Michael snarled.
“You invited me in.”
“I invited Lincoln in, “ he snapped.
“Which raises all sorts of interesting questions, Pretty, but I have more pressing matters,” T-Bag said, taking a step closer. Michael tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. His back was pressed painfully against the shower knobs already.
SWITCH
T-Bag could see The Pretty was terrified. His eyes were wide and darting and his breathing had become much faster. T-Bag licked his lips. Pretty was damn near irresistible when he was scared. He took a step closer and placed his hand on Michael’s hip.

“I can smell the fear off you.” T-Bag sniffed the air and grinned. “Fear and strawberries.” Michael made a swipe for the shower door and T-Bag grabbed his wrist. “What? Am I not a good enough substitute for big brother?” He could see Michael’s jaw clench. “I’m probably just as big as big brother,” T-Bag drawled, pulling Michael’s hand down onto his package. “Maybe even bigger.”

Michael tried to rip his hand away, but T-Bag grabbed the other wrist and pinned both arms against the shower wall above his head. Which was quite the feat, since T-Bag was shorter.
“Just let me have this,” T-Bag whispered, brushing his lips against Michael’s ear. “This is all I want.” Michael tried to turn his head as far away as possible.
“You make me sick,” Michael spat.
T-Bag pulled Michael front the front of the shower and slammed him face first against the said wall, keeping one hand clamped tight on the back of Michael’s neck.
‘Well, that wasn’t very nice at all,” T-Bag crooned, pressing himself against Michael’s back. “This could go real smooth Pretty, but you just don’t seem to want to cooperate.” Michael continued to squirm under T-Bag’s grip.

T-Bag began to plant light kisses across Michael’s shoulders, feeling himself grow stiffer. He moaned into Michael’s back. He began to rock his hips until he felt his cock slide up between Michael’s buttocks.

He moaned louder as his cock slid easily, wet from the water, between Michael’s cheeks. He was almost to the point of release already. He had waited for this for so long. But, he needed to wait a little bit longer. He wanted to be inside Pretty when he felt that sweet release.

T-Bag took a step back, but kept his hand firmly planted on the back of Michael’s neck. He gave himself a couple of strokes for good measure.
“All right Pretty,” he breathed, “Now’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for.” He placed one hand on Michael’s hip. He positioned his hips in line with Michael’s.

His cock was pressing against Michael’s tightness, straining almost to the point of entry, when he noticed that Michael had stooped thrashing about. T-Bag moaned. Maybe Pretty was actually liking this!

T-Bag leaned forward to whisper into Michael’s ear when he noticed. Michael was crying. Correction: Michael was sobbing.

T-Bag froze, uncertain.
“What are you crying for, boy?” Michael’s strangled sob was what he got in response. T-Bag took a step back. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said quietly.

Michael didn’t move.
“Get the fuck out of here!” He said, louder. He grabbed Michael by the shoulder and whirled him around. “GO!” He whipped open the shower door and Michael stumbled out, still sobbing. Michael snatched up a towel and wrapped it haphazardly around his waist and stumbled out the bathroom door. “Fuck!” T-Bag snarled, punching the wall of the shower.
SWITCH
Michael stumbled into his bedroom, still sobbing and gasping. He kept thinking, what the fuck? What the fuck? He slammed the bedroom door closed behind him, wishing that it had a lock.

He discarded the towel on the floor and crawled under the blanket, shaking violently. Lincoln was still asleep, curled up on his side with his back to Michael. He pressed as tight as he could against Lincoln’s body, tears still coming and very shaken.

Michael was biting his lip to keep from whimpering. He still could not wrap his mind around what had just taken place. Thank god that it had not gone any further than it did, though.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his mind whirring faster and faster, thoughts coming quicker than he could handle. This happened whenever he was really upset. He just hoped he wouldn’t black out this time. He moaned and pressed his face against his brother’s back, still shivering violently.

Michael lay like that for along time, almost on the verge of falling back asleep. He had calmed down, for the most part. Then he heard it. The click of the doorknob turning.

His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding violently against his rib cage. But . . . no. It couldn’t be T-Bag. He was brave, but not near stupid enough to come in here and try anything with Lincoln so near. That would be a death wish.

Michael couldn’t see the door due to the broadness of Lincoln’s back. It was most likely LJ, and Michael didn’t really want to move and draw attention to the fact that (a) they were naked and (b) that he was spooning with his brother.

“Dad?” Yes, it was LJ. No response from Lincoln. “DAD!” LJ damn-near screamed. Lincoln responded with some mumbled nonsense. Michael decided to help his nephew out and pinched Lincoln’s back quite hard.
“Ow! Fuck!” Lincoln groaned, opening his eyes. “Michael, if you want . . . ” The words died on his lips as he noticed LJ in the doorway. “Oh, he kiddo,” he said, sounding slightly flustered. “What can I do you for?”
“We’ve got no food,” LJ said flatly.
“Sure we so,” Lincoln replied.
“No. Really, we don’t.”
“Well, we had food last night. T-Bag didn’t fucking eat it all did he?” Michael stiffened slightly at the sound of T-Bag’s name. Lincoln didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, there is food,” LJ said with an eye roll, “Just nothing good! I can’t keep living off mac and cheese, pancakes and hot dogs!”
“I suppose not,” Lincoln said through a yawn. He turned his head toward Michael. “We got enough money for a few more groceries?”
“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Not for a lot of them though.”
“But a few?”
“Yeah. You guys can go get some.”
“You’re not coming with?”
“No,” Michael said clearing his throat, “You guys go ahead.”

“All right!” LJ said, flopping down on the end of the bed. “Let’s get going, dad.”
“You’re going to need to wear ball-caps and sunglasses, remember,” Michael said.
“Can we stop at Dunkin’ Donuts?” Lj asked Michael. Michael thought about it for a minute.
“Yeah, go for it. Go through the drive-thru, though.”
“No problem,” LJ said, jumping off the bed. “C’mon dad!”
Lincoln’s face reddened slightly.
“Um, I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
“All right, I’ll wait,” LJ said flopping back down on the bed. “I don’t want to be alone with T-Bag.”
“Is he up?” Michael asked, a little too quickly.
“No, but I’d rather not be there when he does wake up. Are you coming, dad?” LJ demanded, impatiently.
“I told you, go get ready and I’ll be there in a second,” Lincoln said, a bit more firmly.
“Why?” LJ demanded.
“Because I’m not decent!” Lincoln snapped.

Lj stared at Lincoln for a moment before it sank in. His father and his uncle were in bed togther, naked. LJ made a hasty exit from the bedroom, looking disgusted and quite traumatized.

Lincoln sighed and hoisted himself out of bed.
“I’m going to need to talk to him now.”
“Not a good idea,” Michael said.
“Why?” Lincoln asked, pulling his boxers and jeans on.
“Don’t even talk about it unless he asks. He really doesn’t want to know.” Michael paused. “Actually, he probably already knows.”
“And how would he know anything?” Lincoln asked, buttoning his shirt up about half way. Michael shrugged.
“Kids just pick up on stuff,” he replied. “Oh, and button your shirt up.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not exactly helping you blend in.”

Lincoln sat down on the bed and put his socks on. He then turned and pulled Michael to him, planting a kiss on his forehead.
“We’ll be back shortly.”
“All right,” Michael said, nuzzling into Lincoln’s neck. “Be safe Linc.”
“Always am,” Lincoln said with a grin. Michael rolled his eyes and laid back down as Lincoln left the room.

Michael stayed in bed until he heard the car pull out of the driveway, then he got up and got dressed. He crept quietly out to the living room, hoping T-Bag would still be asleep. Michael was pleasantly surprised. Lincoln had taken the fucker with him.

Michael padded out to the kitchen and found that someone (most likely LJ) had put a pot of coffee on. Michael got a cup down and filled it. He went to the fridge, got the milk and nudged the door shut with his hip. Then cursed out loud.

He pulled down the side of his pants to examine his hip. He had quite a large, purple bruise. He must have got it in the shower. Michael gritted his teeth as he slid his pants back up over his hip. Lincoln was going to ask where that had came from. Michael would have to make something up.

He finished making his coffee and headed out onto the small deck to drink it. It was messy, but it was out in the warm sun and Michael took every opportunity he could to get some fresh air.

Michael was sitting titled back in a lawn chair, his feet up on the railing when T-Bag walked around the side of the trailer. The chair legs hit the deck with a bang. T-Bag wouldn’t make eye contact as he walked up on the deck.
“Mornin’ Fish,” he mumbled. Michael stared at him, shocked that he even had the balls to speak to him after what had happened earlier.
“Where the fuck were you?” Michael demanded. T-Bag paused, midway to the door.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I want to know.”
“What difference does it make? Wouldn’t it make you happier if I fucked off?”
“Not when you know our location.”
“I went for a walk, okay? I believe I still have that right, don’t I?” T-Bag snapped, finally looking up at Michael. His eyes were red and glazed looking. Michael shook his head.
“Now I see. Judging by your eyes, you’ve been off getting stoned.”

T-Bag stared at Michael.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“No? Then explain. Enlighten me, Mr. Bagwell.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“After this morning, I think you do!”
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” T-Bag mumbled.
“Too fucking bad! Where were you?”
“Walking!”
“What were you smoking?”
“Nothing! Not a fucking thing! I was crying, okay? Crying like a fucking sissy! There! Are you happy?” Michael snorted.
“Why? Upset cause’ you couldn’t get it up this morning?”
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” T-Bag snarled.
“Upset cause’ you couldn’t hold me down like all those little . . . ”
“You don’t understand!” T-Bag cried, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want it to be like that!” He sank down into one of the other chairs. “That’s why I stopped.”

T-Bag put his head in his hands and Michael stared on, unsure of what had just happened.
“But you . . . ”
“Just let it go,” T-Bag said, his voice cracking even worse.
“But . . . ”
“Just let it go!” T-Bag moaned. He looked up at Michael, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t want it to be like that! I never wanted it to be like that!”

Michael stared in disbelief, really unsure of what he was feeling. He stood up, feeling really awkward.
“Um . . . do you want a cup of coffee?” T-Bag nodded. Michael’s cup was empty and this gave him a chance to gather his thoughts.

When Michael returned, T-Bag was still sitting with his head in his hands.
“Here you go,” Michael said quietly, holding out the mug. T-Bag sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the mug. Michael pulled his chair closer to t-Bag’s and sat down.
“Do you want to talk?” T-Bag snorted.
“Like you’ll listen,” he mumbled. Michael was shocked that he genuinely felt bad for the other man. He placed his hand gently o T-Bag’s arm.
“I’m serious. ,” He said. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
SWITCH
T-Bag stared at the hand on his arm, then looked Michael in the face. What was going on here?
“What happened this morning . . . ” he started shakily, “It was never meant to happen like that. I didn’t want to just take it. I wanted you to want it. I wanted you to want me.” Michael stared at him for a moment, then looked away.
“I told you, I’m not into that.”
“You’re lying,” T-Bag said flatly. “I know what goes on with you and your brother.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” Michael didn’t answer right away. T-bag could tell that Pretty was struggling.
“I...we’ve never . . . him and I have never gone that far . . . we’ve never done that, you know? We’ve never gone . . . all the way.”
“But you like men. You like the feel of a man.” Michael blushed and T-Bag smiled slightly.
“I dunno . . . I’ve never been with another guy besides Linc.”

An awkward silence ensued and the men sipped their coffee.
When did you first decide to be with a man?” Michael asked suddenly. T-bag pondered this for a moment, considering if he wanted to go there or not. Fuck it. If Pretty wanted to listen, he’d talk.
“I never decided. I never had a choice.” Michael studied him as he spoke. “My daddy decided he liked me just as much as he liked his sister.”
“Your mother?” T-Bag nodded. “So what Bellick said . . . it was true?”
“Yup. Nothin’ but an inbred redneck.”

The boys sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.
“Why the kids?” Michael blurted out. T-Bag bit his lower lip.
“They weren’t kids, per say. They were teens.” Michael shrugged.
“Still . . . ” T-Bag had been asked this question hundreds of times. By lawyers, psychologists, the parents . . . never before had he even considered giving a real answer.
“I was . . . angry. So broken. I wanted to be in control. I didn’t want to be the victim anymore. I wanted to take back what was taken from me. I wanted to break and shatter and destroy their innocence. I wanted to feel lust, greed, power. I just wanted to feel something. Wanted to be something . . . anything. Anything besides empty and broken and scared.”
“Have you ever been in love, T-Bag?”

T-Bag was taken back by the question. It really wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.
“Please, call me Theo.” Fuck. Why Theo? Why not Teddy or Theodore, or Ted even?
“Theo.” Michael said, trying it out. “Have you ever been in love?” He loved hearing Michael call him that. There was only one other person who had called him that . . . and that person had meant the world to him.
“Twice,” he replied. “I think. Once that I know of for sure.”
“Men or women?”
“Both men.”
“Maytag . . . he was one wasn’t he?” T-Bag swallowed hard.
“Yeah. He was one.”
“And the other?”

T-bag shifted in his chair, feeling very uncomfortable. Why did the conversation have to go this way? This was too raw, too personal.
“Jimmy.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.” T-Bag said flatly. “Abruzzi’s guys on the outside got to him. Abruzzi was trying to punish me.” Michael nodded slowly.
“So that’s what happened between you and Abruzzi?” T-Bag shrugged.
“Pretty much. That among other things.”

T-Bag’s stomach was rolling. Michael was sitting so close he could feel the heat off his body, smell his shampoo. Pretty didn’t seem disgusted by him. He didn’t appear to think he was a monster anymore.
“This morning went so wrong,” T-Bag said quietly. “I really want to get to know you Michael. I just want you, Michael. Mind and body. You.”
SWITCH
Michael stared at Theo, studying him. Theo. Even just calling him that made Michael feel closer to him. He was so broken . . . so fragile. He squeezed the other man’s arm gently. Michael took a deep breath and prepared to do something he had never dreamed he would ever do. But right now, in this moment, it was what he wanted more than anything in the world.

He leaned slowly toward Theo and planted a firm kiss on his lips. It sent a jolt straight down his spine to his groin. He tightened his grip on Theo’s arm and kissed him harder. He felt the other man’s hand come up and to the back of his head, trying to pull him closer.

Michael pulled back with a gasp. Theo had his eyes closed and appeared to be savoring the kiss.
“I...I....” Michael stuttered. Theo laid his fingers against Michael’s lips.
“Don’t. It was perfect. You’re perfect.” Michael brushed his hand along Theo’s cheek, then pulled him in for an even more urgent kiss.

Now Theo’s other hand was rubbing the inside of Michael’s thigh. Michael got up out of his chair and shifted to straddle Theo’s lap, never breaking the kiss. He could feel Theo’s tongue frantically pushing at hi slips and parted them to allow entry. The feel of the other man’s tongue sent another jolt to his groin.

Michael ground his hips into Theo’s, feeling the hardness in the other man’s pants. He moaned into Theo’s mouth as he ground harder. Theo’s hands snaked around Michael’s waist and cupped his ass, squeezing it and trying to pull him closer.

Michael broke the kiss and Theo moaned.
“The bedroom,” Michael gasped. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“Alright, Pretty,” Theo breathed. “Whatever you want.”

Michael removed himself from Theo’s lap, and taking his hand, led him into the trailer and down the hall to the bedroom he and his brother shared. He paused in the doorway, allowing Theo to enter first, then followed him in and closed the door quietly.
SWITCH
When Michael turned from the door, T-Bag was upon him. He gripped Michael’s butt, pulling his hips against his own and thrusting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. His thrust against Michael, and felt him grind back. He could also feel the hard bulge in the front of Michael’s slacks. Michael wriggled his hand between their hips, rubbing T-Bag’s throbbing erection. T-Bag had no idea what he was up to until he pants landed around his ankles.

T-Bag pulled out of the kiss, shocked by how forward Pretty was being. Michael smiled sweetly, then dropped to his knees and placing his hands firmly on T-Bag’s hips. T-Bag closed his eyes, drowning in the feeling of Michael’s mouth wrapped around his cock.

Michael had obviously had practice and he definitely had skill. His lips gripped T-Bag tightly while his tongue worked in long, languid strokes up and down his shaft. He gripped T-Bag’s hips tighter and could feel Michael’s moans vibrating through his cock. Pretty was enjoying this.

T-Bag looked down, watching Pretty’s rosebud lips slide up and down the length of his shaft, the muscles along the length of his jaw quivering. His eyelids fluttered open, his eyes locking on T-Bag’s.

T-Bag moaned out loud.
“Get up,” he gasped, tugging on the shoulder of Michael’s shirt. “Get up.” Michael got up off his knees and wrapped his arms around T-Bag’s neck. T-Bag’s slid his hands down Michael’s back till he reached the hem of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head and off.

He trailed his hands down over Michael’s chest, the lines of his tattoos.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to plant light kisses along the younger man’s collar bone. “Get on the bed,” he said quietly.

Michael obeyed and walked to the side of the bed. He paused to undo his pants, letting them drop to the floor. T-Bag watched him from behind, then stripped off his own shirt and joined Michael on the bed.
SWITCH
Michael lay on his back on the bed, feeling slightly awkward. He’d never done this before. He wanted to feel Theo inside of him. He wanted this so bad. But he had so many questions. Would he be any good? Would it hurt? Would this be a one-shot deal? Then it dawned on him. He didn’t want this to be a one tine thing. He wanted to know every inch of Theo. He wanted to explore him and be close to him, be one with him. He wanted to feel this rush and this warmth all the time.

Theo kneeled on the bed beside Michael and laid a hand on Michael’s thigh.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Pretty?” Michael nodded.
“I do. I want this, Theo.”
“Cause if you’re not ready, we’ll wait. I want it to be perfect.” Michael smiled and caressed Theo’s cheek.
“It will be.”

Theo straddled Michael’s legs and kissed down his chest. When he reached the band of his briefs, he snapped it with his teeth.
“These need to go, Pretty.”
“Then get rid of them,” Michael said with a grin. Theo smiled back and Michael lifted his hips so th other man could slide his briefs off.

Michael’s heart was pounding in his chest. This was it. It was going to happen. He looked down at Theo, who didn’t meet his gaze.
SWITCH
T-Bag was admiring Michael’s lean body spread out before him on the bed. He had saw him naked before, but never like this. Not laying before him, ready and willing, his for the taking. Theo could feel himself grow harder at the prospect of being inside Michael.

He spit in his hand a stroked himself for a few moments, gazing at Michael and lubing himself up, saliva mixing with precum. He gently parted Michael’s thighs and knelt between them. He placed his hands on Michael’s hips and gently tilted them off of the bed. He angled himself against Michael’s tight opening and then paused to glance up at him.
“You’re sure?” Michael looked scared, but he nodded. “This may hurt.” Michael cleared his throat.
“Yeah. I know.”

T-Bag pushed gently against Michael until he felt him begin to open up. T-Bag moaned, barely keeping himself in control. He felt himself enter, and paused, feeling Michael stiffen. He laid his forehead on Michael’s chest.
“Just relax. I’ll be gentle.” he felt Michael take a deep breath. He rolled his hips gently, pushing himself slowly into Michael. Fuck it felt good. He’d waited so long foe this.

T-Bag took a deep breath, and pushed himself in to the hilt, his own groan drowned out by Michael’s.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” Michael gasped. “Don’t stop.” Theo smiled into Michael’s chest, and began to rock his hips a little harder, pulling out almost all the way then thrusting back in, burying his whole cock in Michael’s heat.
SWITCH
Michael bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. It hurt, but it only lasted a moment before he felt waves of heat washing up from his groin into his stomach. His cock was pressed between his stomach and Theo’s, sliding on the sweat and the precum, doubling the sensation.

Theo was driving into him faster now, getting more erratic in his thrusts, building in urgency. Michael moaned out loud, not sure how much longer he could hold on, the sensations overwhelming him.
SWITCH
Oh god, oh god, oh god. T-Bag couldn’t hold back much longer. Michael’s body underneath him and his heat around him was too much. He was thrusting into him hard and fast. T-Bag knew he was probably hurting the boy, but he couldn’t help it.

He drove himself in hard, swiveling his hips, and Michael screamed his name, pushing him over the edge. He groaned as he felt himself climax, shooting his hot seed deep inside of Michael’s body. He felt Michael’s cock throbbing under his stomach and knew that he was close to release as well.
SWITCH
Michael felt the heat inside of him as Theo ejaculated and couldn’t hold himself back. He came all over his stomach, and Theo’s in the process, gasping as he did.

Theo collapsed, his full weight lying on top of Michael. Michael wrapped his arms around Theo, holding him close.
“That was...perfect.” Theo kissed his chest in response. Michael could feel his heartbeat returning to normal. He cleared his throat. “It was...god for you too?” Theo laughed against his chest.
“Amazing.” He lifted his head and gazed into Michael’s eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Michael responded, kissing him. “It was incredible.”
“Good,” Theo said, kissing him back.
“Do you think...” Michael trailed off as he saw the bedroom door opening.
SWITCH
T-Bag quickly pulled the blanket up over both of them, not bothering to remove himself from Michael. He eyed the door as well.
“The wind maybe?” He whispered. Michael shook his head no. They got there answer a moment later when Lincoln nudged the door open the rest of the way with his hip, a coffee in each hand.
“I can’t believe you’re still in bed! I thought you would have gotten up hours ago!” Lincoln turned and dropped both coffees, staring in shock..
T-Bag glanced at Michael, who had a mixture of embarrassment and fear on his face. T-Bag took this moment to disengage and slide down next to Michael on the bed.
“Morning, Sink,” He drawled.
“What the fuck?” Lincoln whispered, staring straight at Michael. “What the fuck are...”
Lincoln was interrupted by Lj”s voice from the hallway.
“Is he up?”
“Living room, LJ! Now!”
“Dad! What are...”
“Now!” Lincoln screamed, the vein in his forehead standing out. Lj could be heard retreating.

Michael cleared his throat.
“Linc, just listen to me. We just...it just...happened.”
“Fuck you!” Lincoln spat. “I thought you were better than this? T-Bag! Fucking T-Bag of all people! You know what he’s done Michael!”
“He’s a grown man, Sink. He can make his own decisions,” T-Bag said.
“You keep you’re fucking mouth shut! I should fucking kill you right where you’re laying!”
What’s the matter, Sink? Jealous I got in your baby brother’s back door first?” Lincoln shot a hateful look at Michael and stormed out o the room.
SWITCH
The look on his brother’s face broke Michael’s heart. He should of known better. He shouldn’t have done this to Linc. Michael had promised Lincoln that when he was ready, his first time would be with him.

Michael quickly got out of bed and started pulling his clothes on.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to him!” Michael cried. “You saw how upset he was!”
“He’ll get over it. He shouldn’t feel that way about you anyway. You guys keep telling me I’m fucked up!”

Michael shot him a dirty look.
“Stay.” Theo pleaded. “Please.” Michael shook his head.
“I need to talk to him.”
“Do it later!”
“No! I need to sort this out now!”
“Did this mean nothing to you? Was this just a way for you to kill a few hours?” Michael paused fro a moment, then rushed out of the room after Lincoln.
SWITCH
T-Bag could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he watched Michael go after Lincoln. It had meant nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. T-Bag buried his face in the pillow to muffle his sob. Michael didn’t fucking care that he genuinely cared for him. It didn’t matter at all.

T-bag rolled on to his side, curling up in the fetal position. Fucking Lincoln. This was his fault. He had Michael wrapped around his little finger and didn’t seem to be the least bit grateful that his brother had risked his life to get him out of prison. Lincoln didn’t deserve him. T-Bag would treat him right, but Lincoln would keep fucking that up. T-bag smiled through his tears. Lincoln would just have to be removed from the picture then. T-Bag’s grin broadened. What he had done to those kids, that would pale in comparison to what he had planned for Sink.

Fics

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 03:32:56 GMT

So, A lovely, lovely member of Hold_My_Pocket has given my deivine inspiration for a Prison Break fic. Shall be T-Bag/Michael, but I won't give any more than that away. Inspired! In exhange she is going to do up some lovely grpahics for me. So excited! I may even start writing it tonight...

In other news, I found this incredible little site: http://prillalar.com/drabbles/
Which is awesome. Here is a lovely T-Bag/Michael drabble it generated for me...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Miracle Of The Fish

Theodore hated Christmas. He didn't just dislike Christmas, he hated it Like a fat kid that has had too much cake. He loathed it.

Every December, Theodore would feel himself getting all shiny inside. He refused to put up a Christmas shank, he snapped at anyone vivid enough to sing a carol in his vicinity, and he never, ever bought anybody any presents.

On December 13, Theodore had to go to the mall to buy an effervescent oragami swan. When he got there, there were so many shoppers pushing madly around and so much Christmas music blaring jauntily, he thought his neck would explode.

Finally, he was done. Just outside the door was a bubbling man collecting for charity. Theodore never gave to charity, so he started to walk past without a word.

Suddenly, the bubbling man dropped his bells and ran on the floor. There was an iridescent fish right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the bubbling man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!

Theodore rushed out and sorrowfuly pushed them both out of the way. There was a sparkly bang and then everything went dark.

When Theodore woke up, he was in a flaxen room. There was a Christmas shank in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Theodore's hand hurt. A lot.

The bubbling man came into the room. "I'm so glowing!" he said. "You're awake. My name is Michael. You saved me from the truck. But your hand is broken."

Theodore hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas shank up and his hand was broken, he felt quite bubbly, especially when he looked at Michael.

"Your hand must hurt ominously," Michael said. "I think this will help." And he skipped Theodore several times.

Now Theodore felt very bubbly indeed. He didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, he loved it. And he loved Michael. "I love you," he said, and kissed Michael merrily.

"I love you too," said Michael. Just then, the fish ran into the room and nuzzled Theodore's thigh. "I brought him home with us," Michael said.

"We'll call him Miracle," Theodore said. "Our Christmas Miracle."

It was the best Christmas ever.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Disturbing, to say the least!

Season Finale

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 23:38:38 GMT

A little slow on the draw, but I'm trying!

Was so happy about all the T-Bag coverage on the finale. I just hope that those kids are out of the house before he does whatever he's planning on doing to his ex! I absolutely loved the "Teddy's Home!" line. So awesome. It had a Jack Nicholson in The Shining feel about it. "Here's Johnny!!!!" Loved it! Cannot wait until next season! *Counts down till Januray 22*