Fic: Michael is Cutest When
Sep. 28th, 2006 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: Michael is Cutest When
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aeroport_art
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 2.06
Word Count: 3,201
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: I must warn you all, PWP follows this link. *blushes* I couldn't help it, I had to post something happier! Although this story still fits into the Breathe Love universe, it skips much farther ahead. I may or may not just include this as a chapter later on; I'm not fond of littering drabbles in my wake, it's confusing to me @_@. So anyway, here is the break from angst (well I kinda slipped some in, I can't help it!) you all requested ^.^ Oh andthelana, I did incorporate your request for rimming and even used your phrasing >_<. Okay, so without further ado, PWP! And as always Feedback = Love.
Summary: Picking up on some prompts during episode 2.06 (last week's episode) and altering the ending for my own sick enjoyment. Hee.
Michael is Cutest When
“You know that big… big guy, strong guy that doesn’t speak much? Why don’t you go over there and ask him if he would like to have a drink with me?”
T-Bag doesn’t like to be turned down, no, if you turn down T-Bag, well, he’s just gonna take what he please, anyhow. This woman, Jeanette, she’s got her knickers up in a twist to get a little time with the Caveman and oh it makes him irate that she’d played him, doing her dance with her skirt all aflouncing, laying back in that chair and just begging to be taken and taught a lesson. She played him, alright. So he contemplates her request, nursing his bottom lip with his teeth, feeling the top of his goatee rasp against his tongue, and he thinks that if this were his plan then that pretty little blonde would have her head a-stuck through with that nice sharp ice pick, that nice n’ handy one right over there on the table.
But it ain’t his plan, no, not with five other guys who would rather have T-Bag dead than alive; and if he were to say, cross the pretty boy with that belligerent brother of his…let’s just say it would not be favorable for him.
So T-Bag tightens his lips, he hopes it looks like a smile but really it’s just a grimace, and he turns around to go back to the garage. Caveman there might’ve gotten a break, a little ass on the job, but it’s T-Bag who’s gonna be leaving ol’ Utah a millionaire.
-----
The boys are working, digging nonstop as if the pigs were right behind ‘em watching because for all they knew, they could’ve been. And so they dig and dig and really C-Note’s fucking tired, so he crouches down next to the Fish.
“One hand or not I think hillbilly needs to be up here--"
But just as he says that, the man slinks into the garage with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“What are you doing here?,” Michael quickly asks.
He looks for blood on T-Bag, his clothes, his hands, but it looks normal. At least, as normal as a dead and rotting hand could look, sewn Frankenstein-style onto the stump of his wrist. The thin man mumbles something under his breath, glancing at his brother Lincoln and Michael’s patience is worn thin enough already from the man’s antics that day so he repeats.
“I said, what are you doing here??”
“I- I just came to in-form you that our lovely homeowner Jeanette wants to see Cro-Magnon over there,” he gestured with a twitch of the shoulder.
“What’s she want with him,” Michael demanded.
“She’s got the hots for the big, strong one,” he quotes nastily, licking the taste of dismissal off his teeth.
Michael’s gaze darkens in thought, his gut reaction being to leave Linc out of this; his brother is his, as he had been all his life, and Michael doesn’t need some randy housewife throwing herself at him. On the other hand, unfortunately, Jeanette is a crucial factor to getting D.B.’s money and he doesn’t need any more complications from her than what was strictly necessary. He had to choose.
Michael reluctantly looks over to his older brother and jerks his head towards the door in acquiescence. He would have said something along the lines of “don’t let her touch you you’re mine you hear mine,” perhaps accompanying the baring of some territorial teeth, but surrounded by five other guys who may or may not have looked kindly upon their relationship urges Michael to bite his tongue. When Lincoln leaves the garage, thrusting the shovel into T-Bag’s reedy chest, Michael turns around and continues digging.
-----
“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m on duty. This is strictly prohibited,” Lincoln gently refuses, scandalized and disgusted by her blatant overtures but attempting professionalism. The blonde woman pauses, taken aback. Nobody in Tooele had ever refused her before. Jeanette lowers her arms and crosses them over her ample chest.
“I think y’all are done, and I think y’all need to leave now.”
“But, ma’am--"
“You are finished, and I want you to leave my house now!”
Lincoln quickly weighs his options and judging from her reaction, he doesn’t have long to change her mind.
“Jeannette… you know I want to but…” he purposely trails off and lowers his eyes to her chest.
“What?,” she asks, her interest piqued.
“Well, it would just be so… bad,” he says, trying not to gag. He wonders how he’d ever done this for free but then he remembers he had been high as kite for the majority of his ill-spent youth. In any case, he knew how to work these girls. “I’m… on duty, in uniform and all. I really can’t.”
“Oh?”
Lincoln hopes it’s enough to satisfy her, he hopes he’s buying enough time for Michael and them to get the fucking money already but (Gross he thinks) she takes a step closer and trails a finger down his sweaty chest.
“Well, now, I think you can,” she purrs, trying to sound eighteen but really, she can’t be under forty, it’s obvious. “Your charming co-worker had me entertained for a good half hour there, don’t you think you deserve the same break?” She licks her lips slowly and obscenely and Lincoln knows now that she isn’t going to just sit obediently and have a chat with him over lemonade as he’d hoped.
Michael was going to kill him for this. But not if they were in Panama sipping Mojitos through a bendy straw.
The older brother closes the narrow gap between the two flushed bodies, grabs her firmly and presses a dominant kiss to her already-open lips. He shudders, but nonetheless the feeling is familiar and easy and he is capable of this, is good at this and god be damned if he was going to ruin the plan because of a little queasiness.
-----
“Hey, they sure are taking their time,” C-Note complains again. He doesn’t like to be gypped but considering both T-Bag and now Lincoln’s long disappearances, he’d been getting gypped all afternoon. He looks at Scofield and the boy stands up, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll check on him.” Michael’s been waiting for an excuse ever since his brother had closed the door behind him but he wasn’t sure when it would be appropriate to do so. But luckily C-Note’s given him that excuse and so he gets up quickly and jogs into the house.
When he enters the kitchen he sees shattered glass on the table. And he thinks Oh my god she’s homicidal how could I have missed it?? and rushes upstairs, hammer clenched in a white-knuckled fist.
But when he finds the only closed door of the house and slams it open it isn’t a murder scene, but his big brother standing with the hussy’s legs over his shoulders on the bed and he’s got his hand pumping up her skirt and she’s moaning and writhing and wiggling like a bad porno star-wannabe. When they see him standing there, Lincoln's eyes widen and then they sheepishly disengage.
Michael’s shocked. And then he’s angry. No, he’s livid.
“What the fuck are you two doing!?”
The blonde slut tries to explain, trying to pull on the panties that are still hooked on one ankle, but Michael’s older brother knows better. So he just stands straight-backed and still, thankful he hadn’t forced his erection yet.
Michael turns to Jeanette as composed as he can (but Lincoln can see the trembling fists) and tells her to leave, that he needs to speak with his crew in private. When the door is shut Michael launches himself onto his older brother.
“What the fuck was that!?” he seethes as he knocks the bigger man onto the large, purple-covered bed.
“Michael, I had to. If I didn’t, she was gonna make us leave,” he explains calmly while Michael’s fingers dig bruisingly into his shoulders.
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to fuck her!”
“I wasn’t going to fuck her.”
“You-- you could’ve done something else, anything else, to keep her occupied. Why didn’t you just think!?”
“I’m not you, Michael, I did what I could and that was the only option for me.” He knows that his little brother understands.
Although Michael is constantly frustrated by how long it takes people to come up with ideas or to follow his own, he at least recognized that the disparity is there and that it isn’t their fault when people are being idiots. In Michael’s head, he understands this. And he isn’t mad at his brother, not really; more at the general situation of walking in on his lover fingering a squealing woman and not being allowed to throw a hissy fit over it. So he does the next best thing and rips Lincoln’s jacket open, yanking the neatly-tucked hem out of the belted waistband and covering the older brother’s mouth with his own.
“Mine,” he mumbles through tongue and clicking teeth. Lincoln kisses back enthusiastically, grateful to get the taste of the older woman out of his mouth. Before he can even reach around to grab his little brother’s cute, possessive ass, Michael already has Lincoln’s fly undone and his hand is fishing for the prize.
“Whoa there,” the older brothers says, amused at his brother’s zeal. The younger man pushes Lincoln onto the bed, sinks to his knees and points the organ towards his mouth.
“No time,” Michael replies quickly, his mind ever on the touchy situation in the garage, on the Plan; a future of nothing but this, nothing but him swallowing his brother’s cock like he’d win the lottery if he made his brother come fast enough.
“God! Mikey, ungh…,” Lincoln lets his head fall back as he listens to the pleasant noises of his little brother slurping and gorging himself. But just seconds later, he is embarrassed to notice that he is about to deposit a big load of sperm down that sweet throat if it doesn’t cease massaging the head of his dick. Lincoln blames the time in prison; enough to make any man unusually horny, right?
He smacks his brother lightly upside the temple and gasps out “don’t make me come yet” and Michael obliges, reluctantly letting his treat go with only a string of saliva to connect it with his parting mouth. Lincoln groans at seeing Michael’s red, red mouth and sits up. He grabs Michael by the armpits, lifts him onto the ridiculously violet bedsheets and then undoes his little brother’s fly slowly, giving himself time to recover from having almost just blown his load prematurely. Michael wiggles impatiently, either from sexual need or anxiety at leaving the all-important money alone downstairs and in response his big brother quickly tugs his little brother’s navy pants and briefs down in one smooth motion.
Lincoln opens his mouth and hovers over swollen head of Michael’s penis but suddenly gets a better idea. He knows how to get his baby brother off, quick.
“Linc, c’mon…,” the younger man whines as his dick bobs longingly but he is quickly shut up when Lincoln flips him onto his stomach, spreads his cheeks, and slips a scorching hot tongue over his puckered entrance.
“Oh fuck!!”
Lincoln decides that his little brother is cutest when he swears in sexual ecstasy.
“God Lincoln, fill me up, shove your tongue in me, please!”
Or maybe it’s when he’s begging to have his older brother taste him, fill him, fuck him. It’s really a toss-up, but he doesn’t really care anymore because Michael’s hole is quivering, pulsing to be stuffed to the brim. Lincoln is happy to satiate that pushy bottom and leans his face forward, diving his tongue into that hot hole. He knows Michael loves this, the boy has never gotten sick of having his older brother tongue fuck him to the moon.
And oh, is he showing his appreciation now. Michael’s head is tossing to the right and left, like the pleasure is so overwhelming that he just can’t take it anymore. His legs wrap around Lincoln’s shaven head, vine-like, urging that hot muscle deeper and deeper inside him. He wants his brother so deep that he can taste him on his own tongue.
Lincoln darts in and out, twists, pushes deeper. It isn’t going to take long, which (in this case) is good because they need to get out of the bedroom quickly. Jeanette might understand a ten-minute lecture but she won’t be complacent in thirty minutes while she hears objects being banged and thumped in her bedroom. So Lincoln decides not to fuck the beauty beneath him; as much as he wants to pin Michael’s ass to the bed with his cock, he realizes somewhere in the back of his mind that the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the thin plaster wall is probably not the best way to avert attention.
But it’s not the end of the world. Slicking the inside of Michael’s ass with his exploring tongue is just as fun and to prove it he begins fucking him faster, harder, his cheekbones jammed so hard against Michael’s rump that his skin stretches. He smiles as Michael chokes back a gurgled cry of ecstasy and then removes his tongue. Lincoln so loves to tease his baby brother.
“Ungh, Linc!!” Michael tries to shove his brother’s face back into his neglected genitalia with urgent pulls from the legs that are still wrapped around his shoulders. Lincoln grins with laughter as he leans forward over his little brother’s supine body, quickly thrusting two fingers into that bitten-red mouth. Michael recognizes what is about to happen and sucks on them eagerly, whorishly, as he laps around and in between the digits, coating them liberally. The faster he gets them wet enough, they faster his brother will fuck him with those talented fingers.
“That’s it, Mikey,” Lincoln encourages and his brother stares back at him with an intense, lustful gaze as he performs fellatio on the proffered digits. When the older man deems them ready, he lowers back down to his knees on the floor, positions his middle finger at the entrance and then pushes in; one, two, three pumps and he’s down to the last knuckle and twisting for all he’s worth. Michael keens loudly, then mutes himself halfway through the groan as if just noticing how vocal he was becoming. He soon settles for quiet, desperate pants that thinly veil just how much he wanted to be shrieking like a schoolgirl on all fours as he fucked himself on Lincoln’s deliciously probing fingers.
“Shhhhh, I’m gonna make this good for you Michael but you have to be quiet,” Lincoln says wickedly. He loves toying with Michael’s exhibitionist side, loves pushing the right buttons that turn him on beyond the capabilities of physical touch. “Yeah, you better not scream while I’m fingering you, baby brother. Jeanette’s right outside, she can hear you if you’re not good. Otherwise I’d be fucking you with my cock right now but I know you can’t handle it, you can’t take my meat without screaming.”
At those pornographic words, Michael brings his clenched fist to his blood-red lips and bites down, hard, with a prolonged, agonized grunt like someone had burned him with a hot iron brand. And Lincoln might as well have; lips and fingers and eroticism like this could not come from anyplace else. Nobody makes Michael crazier or hornier than his big brother Linc.
“Shhh,” the older man hushes again, rubbing his little brother’s thigh like he would a nervous buck. Lincoln decides it is about time to make the younger man come for him; the older brother is too turned on to last much longer. So he pulls out, adds his index finger alongside the middle one, and plunges the two in, reaching for the spot that will drive Michael mad as a loon. Anticipating a reaction, Lincoln rushes forwards and shoves his palm over that grimacing mouth and muffles the asphyxiated crescendo that rips from his Michael’s vocal chords. And then his little brother is coming, coming in agonized, twitching spurts that hit his shirt, Lincoln’s chin as he rushes forwards, and then the inner caverns of his older brother’s mouth that has latched on too late. Several pumps and one final squirt later, Lincoln is wiping his chin with a hand, clambering over Michael’s body, and then fisting his rock hard erection with his baby brother’s come for lube.
Michael deliriously counts four indulgent pulls and eight frantic ones before his older brother commands “open your mouth” and he does so and then there is warm fluid shooting onto his tongue, coating his lips, his cheeks, and a rogue squirt lands over his right eyelid. Michael brings his tongue and the ejaculate in, closing his mouth and humming happily at the salty, chemical taste. He rubs the stray liquid from an eyelid and blinks profusely as the proteins glue his eyelashes together.
Lincoln changes his mind. His baby brother has to be the cutest when he is wiping Lincoln’s come out of his eyes with a curled hand, all furious blinking and wide-eyed wincing.
“God I love you,” Lincoln can’t help but say, and he moves down onto Michael’s body, consolingly licking his remaining come off the younger man’s cheeks as the younger man replies with similar murmurings. Lincoln plants a deep, luxurious kiss onto those sticky lips and they part too, too soon. Lincoln gazes into Michael’s sated, baby blue eyes and he leans in for another heart-fluttering kiss when suddenly, they hear knocks on the door.
Michael jolts up to his elbows, staring frozen at the white wooden entrance to the bedroom. In a sudden flurry of zipping and buttoning and water-splashing (thank god there is a connected bathroom), Lincoln finally rushes over to turn the knob while tucking in his shirt.
When he opens it, it isn’t Jeanette as he expected, but Fernando Sucre. The Puerto-Rican has a wild-eyed look and he’s about to blurt something out when he notices a milk white spot on Michael’s shirt.
“Hey Fish, you got something there,” he says before belatedly realizing what the substance is and looking up to Michael’s guilty face with shock.
“Right, thanks. What is it, Sucre?” Michael licks a thumb and tries to rub the crusted stain out.
Sucre snaps out of it and says, panicked, “Cops! Go take a look.”
The two brothers dash to the blinds inside of the bedroom and part them, eyeing the terrifying red and blue lights of the sheriffs car and a police officer is walking towards the front of Jeanette’s house.
This is no time to entertain a coming out conversation and so the three of them sprint downstairs.
Mai Tais, Mai Tais and Lincoln, Michael repeats in his head before he clears his mind to think about what to do, where to run, how to get the money, and everything he needs to and will do so that he and his brother can finally be free and happy.
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:
aeroport_artRating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 2.06
Word Count: 3,201
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: I must warn you all, PWP follows this link. *blushes* I couldn't help it, I had to post something happier! Although this story still fits into the Breathe Love universe, it skips much farther ahead. I may or may not just include this as a chapter later on; I'm not fond of littering drabbles in my wake, it's confusing to me @_@. So anyway, here is the break from angst (well I kinda slipped some in, I can't help it!) you all requested ^.^ Oh and
thelana, I did incorporate your request for rimming and even used your phrasing >_<. Okay, so without further ado, PWP! And as always Feedback = Love.Summary: Picking up on some prompts during episode 2.06 (last week's episode) and altering the ending for my own sick enjoyment. Hee.
Michael is Cutest When
“You know that big… big guy, strong guy that doesn’t speak much? Why don’t you go over there and ask him if he would like to have a drink with me?”
T-Bag doesn’t like to be turned down, no, if you turn down T-Bag, well, he’s just gonna take what he please, anyhow. This woman, Jeanette, she’s got her knickers up in a twist to get a little time with the Caveman and oh it makes him irate that she’d played him, doing her dance with her skirt all aflouncing, laying back in that chair and just begging to be taken and taught a lesson. She played him, alright. So he contemplates her request, nursing his bottom lip with his teeth, feeling the top of his goatee rasp against his tongue, and he thinks that if this were his plan then that pretty little blonde would have her head a-stuck through with that nice sharp ice pick, that nice n’ handy one right over there on the table.
But it ain’t his plan, no, not with five other guys who would rather have T-Bag dead than alive; and if he were to say, cross the pretty boy with that belligerent brother of his…let’s just say it would not be favorable for him.
So T-Bag tightens his lips, he hopes it looks like a smile but really it’s just a grimace, and he turns around to go back to the garage. Caveman there might’ve gotten a break, a little ass on the job, but it’s T-Bag who’s gonna be leaving ol’ Utah a millionaire.
-----
The boys are working, digging nonstop as if the pigs were right behind ‘em watching because for all they knew, they could’ve been. And so they dig and dig and really C-Note’s fucking tired, so he crouches down next to the Fish.
“One hand or not I think hillbilly needs to be up here--"
But just as he says that, the man slinks into the garage with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“What are you doing here?,” Michael quickly asks.
He looks for blood on T-Bag, his clothes, his hands, but it looks normal. At least, as normal as a dead and rotting hand could look, sewn Frankenstein-style onto the stump of his wrist. The thin man mumbles something under his breath, glancing at his brother Lincoln and Michael’s patience is worn thin enough already from the man’s antics that day so he repeats.
“I said, what are you doing here??”
“I- I just came to in-form you that our lovely homeowner Jeanette wants to see Cro-Magnon over there,” he gestured with a twitch of the shoulder.
“What’s she want with him,” Michael demanded.
“She’s got the hots for the big, strong one,” he quotes nastily, licking the taste of dismissal off his teeth.
Michael’s gaze darkens in thought, his gut reaction being to leave Linc out of this; his brother is his, as he had been all his life, and Michael doesn’t need some randy housewife throwing herself at him. On the other hand, unfortunately, Jeanette is a crucial factor to getting D.B.’s money and he doesn’t need any more complications from her than what was strictly necessary. He had to choose.
Michael reluctantly looks over to his older brother and jerks his head towards the door in acquiescence. He would have said something along the lines of “don’t let her touch you you’re mine you hear mine,” perhaps accompanying the baring of some territorial teeth, but surrounded by five other guys who may or may not have looked kindly upon their relationship urges Michael to bite his tongue. When Lincoln leaves the garage, thrusting the shovel into T-Bag’s reedy chest, Michael turns around and continues digging.
-----
“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m on duty. This is strictly prohibited,” Lincoln gently refuses, scandalized and disgusted by her blatant overtures but attempting professionalism. The blonde woman pauses, taken aback. Nobody in Tooele had ever refused her before. Jeanette lowers her arms and crosses them over her ample chest.
“I think y’all are done, and I think y’all need to leave now.”
“But, ma’am--"
“You are finished, and I want you to leave my house now!”
Lincoln quickly weighs his options and judging from her reaction, he doesn’t have long to change her mind.
“Jeannette… you know I want to but…” he purposely trails off and lowers his eyes to her chest.
“What?,” she asks, her interest piqued.
“Well, it would just be so… bad,” he says, trying not to gag. He wonders how he’d ever done this for free but then he remembers he had been high as kite for the majority of his ill-spent youth. In any case, he knew how to work these girls. “I’m… on duty, in uniform and all. I really can’t.”
“Oh?”
Lincoln hopes it’s enough to satisfy her, he hopes he’s buying enough time for Michael and them to get the fucking money already but (Gross he thinks) she takes a step closer and trails a finger down his sweaty chest.
“Well, now, I think you can,” she purrs, trying to sound eighteen but really, she can’t be under forty, it’s obvious. “Your charming co-worker had me entertained for a good half hour there, don’t you think you deserve the same break?” She licks her lips slowly and obscenely and Lincoln knows now that she isn’t going to just sit obediently and have a chat with him over lemonade as he’d hoped.
Michael was going to kill him for this. But not if they were in Panama sipping Mojitos through a bendy straw.
The older brother closes the narrow gap between the two flushed bodies, grabs her firmly and presses a dominant kiss to her already-open lips. He shudders, but nonetheless the feeling is familiar and easy and he is capable of this, is good at this and god be damned if he was going to ruin the plan because of a little queasiness.
-----
“Hey, they sure are taking their time,” C-Note complains again. He doesn’t like to be gypped but considering both T-Bag and now Lincoln’s long disappearances, he’d been getting gypped all afternoon. He looks at Scofield and the boy stands up, wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll check on him.” Michael’s been waiting for an excuse ever since his brother had closed the door behind him but he wasn’t sure when it would be appropriate to do so. But luckily C-Note’s given him that excuse and so he gets up quickly and jogs into the house.
When he enters the kitchen he sees shattered glass on the table. And he thinks Oh my god she’s homicidal how could I have missed it?? and rushes upstairs, hammer clenched in a white-knuckled fist.
But when he finds the only closed door of the house and slams it open it isn’t a murder scene, but his big brother standing with the hussy’s legs over his shoulders on the bed and he’s got his hand pumping up her skirt and she’s moaning and writhing and wiggling like a bad porno star-wannabe. When they see him standing there, Lincoln's eyes widen and then they sheepishly disengage.
Michael’s shocked. And then he’s angry. No, he’s livid.
“What the fuck are you two doing!?”
The blonde slut tries to explain, trying to pull on the panties that are still hooked on one ankle, but Michael’s older brother knows better. So he just stands straight-backed and still, thankful he hadn’t forced his erection yet.
Michael turns to Jeanette as composed as he can (but Lincoln can see the trembling fists) and tells her to leave, that he needs to speak with his crew in private. When the door is shut Michael launches himself onto his older brother.
“What the fuck was that!?” he seethes as he knocks the bigger man onto the large, purple-covered bed.
“Michael, I had to. If I didn’t, she was gonna make us leave,” he explains calmly while Michael’s fingers dig bruisingly into his shoulders.
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to fuck her!”
“I wasn’t going to fuck her.”
“You-- you could’ve done something else, anything else, to keep her occupied. Why didn’t you just think!?”
“I’m not you, Michael, I did what I could and that was the only option for me.” He knows that his little brother understands.
Although Michael is constantly frustrated by how long it takes people to come up with ideas or to follow his own, he at least recognized that the disparity is there and that it isn’t their fault when people are being idiots. In Michael’s head, he understands this. And he isn’t mad at his brother, not really; more at the general situation of walking in on his lover fingering a squealing woman and not being allowed to throw a hissy fit over it. So he does the next best thing and rips Lincoln’s jacket open, yanking the neatly-tucked hem out of the belted waistband and covering the older brother’s mouth with his own.
“Mine,” he mumbles through tongue and clicking teeth. Lincoln kisses back enthusiastically, grateful to get the taste of the older woman out of his mouth. Before he can even reach around to grab his little brother’s cute, possessive ass, Michael already has Lincoln’s fly undone and his hand is fishing for the prize.
“Whoa there,” the older brothers says, amused at his brother’s zeal. The younger man pushes Lincoln onto the bed, sinks to his knees and points the organ towards his mouth.
“No time,” Michael replies quickly, his mind ever on the touchy situation in the garage, on the Plan; a future of nothing but this, nothing but him swallowing his brother’s cock like he’d win the lottery if he made his brother come fast enough.
“God! Mikey, ungh…,” Lincoln lets his head fall back as he listens to the pleasant noises of his little brother slurping and gorging himself. But just seconds later, he is embarrassed to notice that he is about to deposit a big load of sperm down that sweet throat if it doesn’t cease massaging the head of his dick. Lincoln blames the time in prison; enough to make any man unusually horny, right?
He smacks his brother lightly upside the temple and gasps out “don’t make me come yet” and Michael obliges, reluctantly letting his treat go with only a string of saliva to connect it with his parting mouth. Lincoln groans at seeing Michael’s red, red mouth and sits up. He grabs Michael by the armpits, lifts him onto the ridiculously violet bedsheets and then undoes his little brother’s fly slowly, giving himself time to recover from having almost just blown his load prematurely. Michael wiggles impatiently, either from sexual need or anxiety at leaving the all-important money alone downstairs and in response his big brother quickly tugs his little brother’s navy pants and briefs down in one smooth motion.
Lincoln opens his mouth and hovers over swollen head of Michael’s penis but suddenly gets a better idea. He knows how to get his baby brother off, quick.
“Linc, c’mon…,” the younger man whines as his dick bobs longingly but he is quickly shut up when Lincoln flips him onto his stomach, spreads his cheeks, and slips a scorching hot tongue over his puckered entrance.
“Oh fuck!!”
Lincoln decides that his little brother is cutest when he swears in sexual ecstasy.
“God Lincoln, fill me up, shove your tongue in me, please!”
Or maybe it’s when he’s begging to have his older brother taste him, fill him, fuck him. It’s really a toss-up, but he doesn’t really care anymore because Michael’s hole is quivering, pulsing to be stuffed to the brim. Lincoln is happy to satiate that pushy bottom and leans his face forward, diving his tongue into that hot hole. He knows Michael loves this, the boy has never gotten sick of having his older brother tongue fuck him to the moon.
And oh, is he showing his appreciation now. Michael’s head is tossing to the right and left, like the pleasure is so overwhelming that he just can’t take it anymore. His legs wrap around Lincoln’s shaven head, vine-like, urging that hot muscle deeper and deeper inside him. He wants his brother so deep that he can taste him on his own tongue.
Lincoln darts in and out, twists, pushes deeper. It isn’t going to take long, which (in this case) is good because they need to get out of the bedroom quickly. Jeanette might understand a ten-minute lecture but she won’t be complacent in thirty minutes while she hears objects being banged and thumped in her bedroom. So Lincoln decides not to fuck the beauty beneath him; as much as he wants to pin Michael’s ass to the bed with his cock, he realizes somewhere in the back of his mind that the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the thin plaster wall is probably not the best way to avert attention.
But it’s not the end of the world. Slicking the inside of Michael’s ass with his exploring tongue is just as fun and to prove it he begins fucking him faster, harder, his cheekbones jammed so hard against Michael’s rump that his skin stretches. He smiles as Michael chokes back a gurgled cry of ecstasy and then removes his tongue. Lincoln so loves to tease his baby brother.
“Ungh, Linc!!” Michael tries to shove his brother’s face back into his neglected genitalia with urgent pulls from the legs that are still wrapped around his shoulders. Lincoln grins with laughter as he leans forward over his little brother’s supine body, quickly thrusting two fingers into that bitten-red mouth. Michael recognizes what is about to happen and sucks on them eagerly, whorishly, as he laps around and in between the digits, coating them liberally. The faster he gets them wet enough, they faster his brother will fuck him with those talented fingers.
“That’s it, Mikey,” Lincoln encourages and his brother stares back at him with an intense, lustful gaze as he performs fellatio on the proffered digits. When the older man deems them ready, he lowers back down to his knees on the floor, positions his middle finger at the entrance and then pushes in; one, two, three pumps and he’s down to the last knuckle and twisting for all he’s worth. Michael keens loudly, then mutes himself halfway through the groan as if just noticing how vocal he was becoming. He soon settles for quiet, desperate pants that thinly veil just how much he wanted to be shrieking like a schoolgirl on all fours as he fucked himself on Lincoln’s deliciously probing fingers.
“Shhhhh, I’m gonna make this good for you Michael but you have to be quiet,” Lincoln says wickedly. He loves toying with Michael’s exhibitionist side, loves pushing the right buttons that turn him on beyond the capabilities of physical touch. “Yeah, you better not scream while I’m fingering you, baby brother. Jeanette’s right outside, she can hear you if you’re not good. Otherwise I’d be fucking you with my cock right now but I know you can’t handle it, you can’t take my meat without screaming.”
At those pornographic words, Michael brings his clenched fist to his blood-red lips and bites down, hard, with a prolonged, agonized grunt like someone had burned him with a hot iron brand. And Lincoln might as well have; lips and fingers and eroticism like this could not come from anyplace else. Nobody makes Michael crazier or hornier than his big brother Linc.
“Shhh,” the older man hushes again, rubbing his little brother’s thigh like he would a nervous buck. Lincoln decides it is about time to make the younger man come for him; the older brother is too turned on to last much longer. So he pulls out, adds his index finger alongside the middle one, and plunges the two in, reaching for the spot that will drive Michael mad as a loon. Anticipating a reaction, Lincoln rushes forwards and shoves his palm over that grimacing mouth and muffles the asphyxiated crescendo that rips from his Michael’s vocal chords. And then his little brother is coming, coming in agonized, twitching spurts that hit his shirt, Lincoln’s chin as he rushes forwards, and then the inner caverns of his older brother’s mouth that has latched on too late. Several pumps and one final squirt later, Lincoln is wiping his chin with a hand, clambering over Michael’s body, and then fisting his rock hard erection with his baby brother’s come for lube.
Michael deliriously counts four indulgent pulls and eight frantic ones before his older brother commands “open your mouth” and he does so and then there is warm fluid shooting onto his tongue, coating his lips, his cheeks, and a rogue squirt lands over his right eyelid. Michael brings his tongue and the ejaculate in, closing his mouth and humming happily at the salty, chemical taste. He rubs the stray liquid from an eyelid and blinks profusely as the proteins glue his eyelashes together.
Lincoln changes his mind. His baby brother has to be the cutest when he is wiping Lincoln’s come out of his eyes with a curled hand, all furious blinking and wide-eyed wincing.
“God I love you,” Lincoln can’t help but say, and he moves down onto Michael’s body, consolingly licking his remaining come off the younger man’s cheeks as the younger man replies with similar murmurings. Lincoln plants a deep, luxurious kiss onto those sticky lips and they part too, too soon. Lincoln gazes into Michael’s sated, baby blue eyes and he leans in for another heart-fluttering kiss when suddenly, they hear knocks on the door.
Michael jolts up to his elbows, staring frozen at the white wooden entrance to the bedroom. In a sudden flurry of zipping and buttoning and water-splashing (thank god there is a connected bathroom), Lincoln finally rushes over to turn the knob while tucking in his shirt.
When he opens it, it isn’t Jeanette as he expected, but Fernando Sucre. The Puerto-Rican has a wild-eyed look and he’s about to blurt something out when he notices a milk white spot on Michael’s shirt.
“Hey Fish, you got something there,” he says before belatedly realizing what the substance is and looking up to Michael’s guilty face with shock.
“Right, thanks. What is it, Sucre?” Michael licks a thumb and tries to rub the crusted stain out.
Sucre snaps out of it and says, panicked, “Cops! Go take a look.”
The two brothers dash to the blinds inside of the bedroom and part them, eyeing the terrifying red and blue lights of the sheriffs car and a police officer is walking towards the front of Jeanette’s house.
This is no time to entertain a coming out conversation and so the three of them sprint downstairs.
Mai Tais, Mai Tais and Lincoln, Michael repeats in his head before he clears his mind to think about what to do, where to run, how to get the money, and everything he needs to and will do so that he and his brother can finally be free and happy.
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Date: 2006-09-29 07:08 am (UTC)[head asplodes]
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Date: 2006-09-29 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 07:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 07:53 am (UTC)Love your icon, btw. But I was waiting for the frame where Michael and Lincoln would be fucking in a hotel room! ...sorry, brain's not quite out of the gutter yet >.>;;
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Date: 2006-09-30 12:34 am (UTC)ifni could make icons, you could be certain that that would be in there. but sadly i can't. so...we just have to help and pray someone will make an icon like that ;P
brain's not quite out of the gutter yet
mine never is. it has made a home in the gutter :P
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Date: 2006-09-29 07:58 am (UTC)Hm, that's too many -nesses. Oh, well...
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Date: 2006-09-29 08:03 am (UTC)Heh, I think I understood what you said except... skeeviness? ?_? Whassat?
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Date: 2006-09-29 08:46 am (UTC)dictionary.com says:
Main Entry: skeevy
Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: disgusting or distasteful; nasty, sleazy
Etymology: from Italian schifo 'disgust'
Usage: US
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Date: 2006-09-29 06:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 06:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 11:54 am (UTC)*brain ded*
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Date: 2006-09-29 06:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-29 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-30 06:25 pm (UTC)Bugger it! Michael is just bloody cute whatever he does! But especially when he's being driven to uncontrollable orgasm by his big brother!
Fabulous!
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Date: 2006-09-30 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-03 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-04 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 04:43 am (UTC)