Characters: Michael/Sucre (Slash)
Summary: It has nothing to do with Maricruz…
Author's notes: Another pbhiatus_fic entry for the "sex" challenge, this time with a new pairing!
It has nothing to do with Maricruz, this thing with Michael. Sucre doesn't love her less—or want her less—even for a second. It's just that prison's different, the rules are different. Eventually, you become different.
It started after the riot, with Michael breaking apart on the floor of their cell. Sucre knew that shell-shocked look, he even remembered feeling it. He couldn't just let Michael sit there. A soft hand on Michael's shoulder started it, and then Michael collapsed against him and shook like the world was ending.
Sucre pulled him close, and when Michael turned his face upward those lips were there for the taking.
It sealed their fates.
He tried to be strong, but the next teary-eyed moment or trembling of Michael's mouth always defeated him. Before long, things changed—Michael would look at him with such heat and possibility that Sucre grew hard and breathless with needing to know where it led.
They don't wait for darkness anymore. The sheet goes up whenever the mood strikes.
It has nothing to do with Maricruz, nada. So how did freedom stop being too far off and instead start crowding the few days of happiness Sucre has left?
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