Characters: Lincoln/Michael (Slash, PWP)
Summary: Fun, romantic PWP at the boys' south-of-the-border beach house.
Author's Notes: Set in the "Paradise" post-escape AU, which branches off post-Season 1 and has no conspiracies, treasure-hunts, OOC developments or other complications. This was written as a late birthday fic for the one and only smidgy_06, whose birthday was a stealth operation this year. Hope you enjoy it, Smidgy, and that it's not too late to still be fun! Also for fanfic100; this is prompt #45, "Moon."
"Do you think this fireplace works?"
"I certainly hope so," Michael called from the kitchen. "That was the idea."
"For what?" Lincoln asked. "For winter?"
"Could be. You notice there's no air-conditioning in this place? No heat, either."
"Ah. I thought it was for something else."
"Like what, atmosphere?" Michael came around the corner, grinning. "I'll remember that when the nights turn cold."
"Yeah, it's probably too soon for that right now."
"So, something on your mind, then?"
"What do you think?" Lincoln smiled slowly.
"You are so incredibly, wonderfully predictable." Michael reached out and stroked up Lincoln's side, fingertips passing over naked skin.
Lincoln pulled Michael closer, positioning those hips and letting an appreciative hand wander around to the back. "Let me get a blanket, and we'll go outside," he murmured.
"Sounds like a plan."
They went just a few feet into the palm grove to the side of the house, and were secluded by tree trunks and shadows from condemning eyes. The moon shone silver-bright and nearly full, dividing the night into blue, black, and gleaming white.
"So what brought this on?" Michael bit gently at the edges of Lincoln's mouth and throat.
"You know those shorts drive me crazy…"
"Oh, yeah." Lincoln slid his hands down inside the waistband. "But I've got a solution-- they need to come off." He pushed down and ran his hands over the muscled globes that awaited. "Mmmmm, Michael… where's your underwear?"
Michael shifted his legs and rolled up against Lincoln meaningfully. "It was getting in the way of my strategy," he admitted.
"Strategy? Outmaneuvered me already, huh?"
"What happens if I say yes?" Michael arched his back with a sudden hiss, as Lincoln's hand slipped down around the back of his legs.
"I'll have to get forceful with you," Lincoln teased, his fingers just barely stimulating Michael from behind.
Michael shook against him, breathing unevenly. "Promise?" he gasped out.
"Oh, yeah." Lincoln mouth ended any further conversation.
The fullness of Michael's lips was intoxicating—so satiny yet firm against Lincoln's own, practically begging to be nibbled and sucked on. The slow roll of his tongue against Michael's lit up every nerve in Lincoln's body, and he pulled Michael closer—harder-- their muscles straining against each other.
"Mmmm," Michael moaned, pulling away reluctantly. "Did you bring the lube?"
"And waste an incredible mouth like yours?" Lincoln grinned. "Not on your life."
"Why do I have the feeling I'm getting the short end of the stick?" Michael protested mildly.
Lincoln chuckled. "Not short by a long shot, and I was thinking you might like to ride rodeo-style this time for a change."
Michael kissed him again and slid down between Lincoln's legs. "You drive a hard bargain," he conceded, "And don't say it..."
"Not a word." No sense in letting bad jokes spoil where things were going.
This part of being with Michael was like floating, like weightlessness held around a single area of sensation. Ohhhhh, Lincoln groaned, the sheen of sand glimmering all around him as the wind shifted the canopy of palm fronds against the moonlit sky overhead.
After awhile Michael paused, and the tingle of air over Lincoln's skin re-focused his attention. Michael's preparations took no more than a minute before he reversed direction and got on top of Lincoln, easing himself on down with measured precision.
"Okay?" Lincoln whispered. The back of Michael's shoulders glowed like an iridescent tapestry.
"Yes." Michael leaned forward to support his hands on Lincoln's legs. Then he began to move.
Lincoln's eyes drifted shut under the sweet feeling of Michael's tight heat trapping him inside. He surrendered to it for a moment, to the slow pace Michael was setting. It was perfect, all of it, just letting Michael find the right angle to give himself the most pleasure.
Before long, Lincoln's hands wandered up of their own volition, stroking the planes of Michael's back and hips. Dream-images wavered in front of his eyes as the pictures on Michael's skin shimmered in and out of the night's radiance. Like a story from another world, they turned and tilted in the light as Michael lifted and lowered over him, moaning with increasing frequency.
"Linc—" Michael gasped out, and Lincoln sat up far enough to reach around and grasp Michael firmly and skillfully.
Just like that, Michael's rhythm became rough and irregular, and then he was spilling over both of them in shuddering waves. His muscles clenched around Lincoln, random movements that dragged Lincoln right over into a sudden climax. Ohhhhh, he groaned, sinking weakly back onto his elbows and letting his face tip upwards toward the blinding sweep of the sky.
He flopped down further, an arm flung over his eyes, and waited for the world to settle down.
The heavy weight on his thighs finally shifted and eased off, and then Michael was stretched out beside him. "How can you be wiped out when I'm the one that did all the work?" Michael said playfully.
"How can you be so energetic afterwards?"
"I'm a Sexing Machine, that's how."
Lincoln threw his head back and laughed. "Somehow, I never imagined you saying those particular words. Ever," he admitted.
"I like to keep you guessing." Michael stroked his fingers up the side of Lincoln's neck.
"Really? What's next?"
"A walk along the beach in the moonlight," Michael suggested. "After we, you know, put our clothes back on."
"Romantic and practical," Lincoln teased.
Michael thought about prisons and escape plans, and the overwhelming Why right here in his arms. "And don't you forget it," he finally said, like it was only about this moment and nothing deeper.
"Give me a hand up?" Lincoln asked.
"For an old man like you? Any time." Michael stood up and helped Lincoln follow.
"I think you're going to get it, for that 'old man' comment."
"Starting now." Lincoln lurched at him and Michael bolted off.
The moon gleamed in silent surveillance as the chase went on.
-------- fin --------