Category: Lincoln/Michael Incest/slash, very Alternate Universe. Mostly PWP.
Rating: R (for subject matter)
Author's Note: Title changed, and Chapter 1 slightly revised before adding next chapter.
Archive: ask first
Warnings: Incest and slash. DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.
Disclaimers: I don’t own “Prison Break” or any of its characters. However, I do know a good thing when I see it. Mmmm…
Summary: Lincoln steps in for Michael, and gets more than he bargained for.
x-x-x-x-x Chapter 1: Saving Michael x-x-x-x-x
Lincoln had noticed Michael going into the work shed a few minutes ago, and that the work area seemed a little low on workers. Making an excuse to the guard, he moved toward the shed, slowing in the doorway to scope out the situation.
Michael was the focus of three of GenPop’s uglier long-term residents. Each hoping to work a long-term arrangement, they made their bids. “It’s gonna happen, Fish,” Scranton breathed. “Could be me, could be someone else. Maybe somebody not so gentle, like Fist here. Now’s your chance to choose. Better make up your mind.” Michael’s eyes darted around the shed, looking for escape or rescue. He felt a sarcastic retort pushing its way out when Lincoln stepped out of the shadows.
“What’s going on here? You boys lost?” Lincoln said.
“We were just having a discussion with Fish here,” said Bacchi. “Helping him to… weigh his options.”
“Really?” Lincoln asked. He moved in closer and stepped between Michael and his admirers. “Fish doesn’t have any options.” Lincoln smiled coldly. “Fish is mine.”
“C’mon man, you’re on the Row. It’s not like you can do much with him,” Bacchi said. “It’s a waste of good tail.”
“Waste of two pieces of good tail,” The Fist muttered.
Michael moved closer to Lincoln, hooking his right arm around his brother’s massive chest. “Who says it’s a waste?” he said.
“You think no-one’s been watching you, Fish? You wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a guy like that,” grumbled Scranton.
Michael’s eyes flashed, burying a sudden surge of panic. “The hell I don’t,” he shot back. He leaned forward, nibbling at the side of Lincoln’s neck, then captured an earlobe with his teeth and rolled it around his tongue. He felt a short, rumbling groan in Lincoln’s chest, which made him lavish more attention on his ear before releasing it. He brushed his fingers over a nipple, then rested his head against Lincoln’s neck.
“You were saying?” Lincoln put his hand on Michael’s arm, staring the other prisoners down.
“You won’t have him for long, hotshot. Your days are numbered,” grunted The Fist. He strode carelessly out the door into the yard, and the others followed slowly.
“Thanks,” Michael said softly. “Anytime,” said Lincoln, his eyes still on the door.
“That groan was a nice touch,” smiled Michael. “Very authentic.”
“Authentic, hell,” said Lincoln. “You were sucking on my earlobe.”
Michael smiled at that. “That good, huh?” he asked. “It’s probably been awhile, hasn’t it?” Lincoln blinked.
Michael’s hand moved lower, slowly crossing Lincoln’s stomach as his left hand moved to his brother’s chest. Lincoln gasped, and stiffened. Michael stroked lazily around the waistband of his brother’s pants, dipping slightly under the fabric, as he listened to Lincoln’s breathing become shorter and more desperate. He slid his hand all the way down, brushing the fabric, as Lincoln suddenly shuddered and groaned in release. Michael kissed his shoulder through the work shirt, and wrapped his arms around his brother in contentment.
After a few minutes, Lincoln’s breathing quieted down. “That was a surprise,” he said softly.
“Seemed like you needed it,” Michael said. “My pleasure.” He smiled to himself.
“Want me to return the favor?” Lincoln asked quietly. Michael felt a sudden heat in his stomach. “That would be great,” he answered, “but I wasn’t expecting it.”
Lincoln let out a short laugh. He turned around slowly, and put his hands on Michael’s shoulders. Leaning around to his neck, he mouthed the skin there with light suction, rubbing his right hand down along Michael’s waist. Michael tipped his head slightly, lost in the sensations and feeling suddenly light-headed. “Is this good?” whispered Lincoln, flicking his tongue against the side of Michael’s neck.
“Yes,” breathed Michael. “A kiss would be better,” he murmured, before he had time to consider the wisdom of what he was saying. Lincoln’s head came up. “Is that what you want?” he asked, surprised. “If it’s okay,” Michael replied. Lincoln searched his eyes for a moment, and then abandoned all hope of logic. Leaning forward, he touched his mouth to Michael’s tentatively. Michael’s lips tingled, his hands reaching up to touch Lincoln’s face and pull him in closer. The kisses became more ardent, and Lincoln cupped the back of Michael’s head with one hand while the other slid down to caress his ass, then moved around to the front of Michael’s pants. A few gentle strokes was all it took, and Michael opened his mouth under Lincoln’s as he came, welcoming the delicately probing tongue and the hardening of Lincoln’s arms around him.
They stood for awhile, Michael trembling as Lincoln held him, and the sounds from the yard filtered into the shed.
“We’re gonna be missed soon,” Lincoln said quietly. They separated, pulling their shirts out of their pants to cover any evidence. Suddenly, neither was sure where to look.
“I—,” Lincoln began. “Don’t say it,” said Michael. “I’m not sorry, and I’d do it all over again if I could.”
“I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you,” Lincoln said quietly. Michael smiled mischievously over his shoulder, as he made his way to the door. “What makes you sure you’re the one taking advantage?”
Huh, Lincoln thought. He gathered the shovel he’d said he needed, and stepped out into the blinding sunlight, his head spinning from more than the glare.
******************************** END **********************************
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