Fic: Breathe Love (15/?)
Nov. 2nd, 2006 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: Breathe Love (15/?)
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aeroport_art
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 4,501
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: I apologize in advance for the frequent blurts about architecture... I just bought a book and I'm having fun with it :D. If you want to see works of the architects I mention in this chapter, I included a few pictures at the very end. Also, thanks totabularassa for coming up with the museum setting! This chapter kind of took awhile so I don't know if it flows as well as some of the other ones but nonetheless, feedback = love!
Summary: Michael has always wanted his brother, and Lincoln has to wrestle with the responsibility of a reciprocated love that can never be... or can it? Spanning two decades, this story attempts to explain Michael/Lincoln within the confines of canon.
For previous chapters, ( Click here )
Chapter 15
6 months later (June 2002)
Michael eyed the door of the bathroom. He nudged his brother in the side, then swiveled back and looked at the thin fold-out door meaningfully. Lincoln goggled and then emphatically shook his head no.
“I can’t even fit in there by myself!!” Lincoln hissed. This being his first experience in an airplane, the older brother wasn’t in the mood for Michael’s tastes in alternative bedrooms.
Michael performed his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, trying to guilt trip his older brother into joining the Mile High club with him, but considering the context Lincoln only laughed aloud.
“Nuh-uh, not this time baby brother. You’re not gonna make me feel bad for this.”
Michael gave up and sulked, pressing the service button and calling a flight attendant over to request two shots of whiskey. Lincoln went back to looking outside the small window and listening to the surrounding hum of the air ventilation.
Beneath them a canopy of smooth, whipped clouds laid out like an endless stream, the perfectly blue sky yawning above. The 32-year old couldn’t get enough of the view, spending the bulk of the four-hour flight with his neck craned towards the window and losing himself in the surreal picture. Unfortunately, his fascination with the atmospheric scenery wasn’t making his little brother happy.
“Pay attention to me,” Michael quietly implored, words husky and overflowing with innuendo as his alcohol-warmed breath blew hot against Lincoln’s neck. The older man shivered involuntarily but continued to bask in the rapturous view.
“No. You need to learn some restraint,” Lincoln chided, eyes unfocused as he watched the tiny white froths of ocean waves creep along below.
“Restraint? I’m plenty restrained.” Lincoln stopped staring outside just long enough to give his brother a pointed look. “Last night doesn’t count. I’m about to lose you to my nephew for the next week, the least I could do was make our last night count.”
“This isn’t a contest, Mikey.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re spending your Sunday morning flipping pancakes instead of—“ Michael paused to check for eavesdroppers. He lowered his voice, “—sucking me off in the shower—“
“Michael!”
“—I’d count that as a loss,” he finished. “LJ one, Michael zero.”
Lincoln had been about to berate his younger brother for his pettiness but he couldn’t help it, the younger man was just. Too. Cute. Especially when he was being a dork.
“I think you should stop taking advantage of your free drinks, baby brother. That’s what, your sixth one?”
“It’s been four hours!”
“Two and a half. And you had them all in the last hour.”
“Well, it will be four hours by the time we land, and if you average the drinks out, I really didn’t have all that much.”
Lincoln laughed at his slightly tipsy little brother. “Stop acting so immature, you’re supposed to be the adult in this relationship,” he quipped, throwing Michael’s often-said words back at him. Michael only looked confused.
“But you are…”
“Never mind.” Lincoln sneaked his hand over to his brother’s thigh and squeezed it affectionately. “Just take your nap now.”
Michael looked at his brother awhile longer, feeling like he’d been had but not knowing exactly how. Letting it slide, he pulled the cheap, felt blanket over his chest and leaned his head against Lincoln’s shoulder, squirming for a comfortable position. After a string of unsuccessful attempts, he looked up at his older brother.
“May I use your lap for a pillow?” Large, innocent blue eyes. But knowing what to look for, Lincoln noticed the (horny) gleam in them anyway.
“No.”
“You’re such a prude, Linc.” Michael huffily went back to using his brother’s shoulder as a cushion. The older man smiled and lightly patted him on the exposed cheek.
“Have a nice nap, Mikey.”
“Hmph.”
-----
“Dad!!!”
10-year old LJ Burrows spotted the strong build of his father, whom he hadn’t seen in over six months, and sprinted over as quickly as his thin legs would carry him.
“Hey there, kiddo!” Lincoln dropped his carry-on and kneeled down to embrace his enthusiastic son, holding him tight and letting his son’s clean, boyish scent wash over him. Taller than I remember him, he rued, clapping the boy on the back and mussing his golden hair before sitting back on his haunches.
“You been taking care of your mother?,” Lincoln looked beyond the terminal and spied Lisa, waiting patiently in a seat.
“Yes sir,” LJ affirmed before turning out of his father’s grasp and latching himself onto his uncle’s lean leg. “Uncle Mikey!!! I forgot how tall you are!!!”
“Yes, hello to you too,” Michael said, attempting to pry the leech-like hands off his upper thigh and push the smiling face out of his general crotch area. After having moved back far enough to look at LJ properly, he grinned and put his hands in his pockets. “You’re not such a munchkin anymore.”
“I was never a munchkin! I’m the third tallest boy in my class,” LJ refuted, prudently leaving out the fact that nearly all the girls were taller than the boys anyway. His uncle only chuckled indulgently. After the three had exchanged greetings, they made their way over to the waiting mother.
“Thanks for picking us up, Lisa,” Michael said as Lincoln got mauled by his son, who was attempting to help with the luggage but was really only causing more work.
“No problem, you know I’ve been looking forward to seeing you boys again too,” she graciously responded.
Soon the group of four had made their way to the parking lot where Lisa was parked and proceeded to load the car with their belongings. On the drive home they chatted about the things Lincoln and Michael wanted see and do, working out a rough itinerary. When they got to Lisa’s home in Milbrae, a small city about fifteen minutes away, she showed her guests to their shared room (in which Michael sneakily waggled his eyebrows at his brother), then left them alone to get settled in.
It was 9 PM; a little early for bed but the boys opted to sleep since Lincoln was tired from his first-time experience in dealing with convoluted airports and uncomfortable coach seats and he really just wanted to get some shut-eye. When the older man stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and climbed into the freshly laundered sheets, Michael had no choice but to join him.
“Is cuddling okay, at least?” Michael asked in a small voice, cautiously winding his long arms around his brother’s midsection and tucking himself in behind the curled body.
After a pause. “Yeah. Yeah,” Lincoln repeated, rolling over so that he was facing blue eyes— like the view from the airplane— and leaned over just a bit so that their lips met.
“Goodnight,” he said, words mumbled against Michael’s slightly open mouth.
“Goodnight, Linc.”
-----
Lincoln and Michael spend the first day with LJ and Lisa, visiting Golden Gate Park, lunching on Embarcadero, watching the sea lions at the pier. LJ imitates the ork-ork of the shining creatures and claps his hands together like flippers while the adults enjoy the cool breeze against their faces.
The second day Lisa has work, so the brothers figure out the BART system and take the train from Milbrae straight into the Mission district of San Francisco, LJ giddily in tow. Lincoln feels right at home in the tagged granite and outdoor markets but Michael doesn’t keep his eye off his nephew until they hit Market. They somehow wind up on Castro street (I wanted to go to Haight, why are we stopping here??) and Lincoln covers his son’s eyes while Michael heartily indulges in chatting with the friendly bystanders and shopkeepers. When they leer at Lincoln’s muscled body Michael only smirks triumphantly and slings an arm around his brother, who is busy not noticing much at all except his son and the concrete sidewalk. By the time they find their way out of the rainbow-lined street, Michael has two new shirts and a cock ring that Lincoln doesn’t know about (yet).
The third day the boys hit up the South Bay, conveniently finding themselves in the midst of an Art and Wine festival. Michael nearly bounces out of his shoes when he finds a vintage Bordeaux for a fourth of its regular price (at which Lincoln spits out his beer… alcohol should never cost that much). LJ trails along, bored, whining for a taste of the elusive wine but Michael swats Lincoln’s pushover hands away.
They dine at the Old Spaghetti Factory in hopes of placating LJ and it works, the boy grinning over the top of his brownie and ice cream sundae. Michael takes a spoonful and licks up the whipped cream, purposely letting some linger on his lower lip. Once he has Lincoln’s attention he slowly, leisurely pulls the bit of white cream into his mouth. Much to the chagrin of his son, Lincoln hurriedly eats the rest of the whipped cream to prevent further opportunities. He does not need to have a hard on for his brother in public. But Michael savors his vanilla ice cream, sticky and messily, and Lincoln gives up the fight, deciding that the tablecloth was a good, good invention.
They have three days left and LJ spends the next at a classmate’s birthday party. Lincoln and Michael stick around for the beginning but by noon the clowns are starting to get to Michael (as are the hordes of young mothers ogling his brother in his sharp black shirt, “man-slut” written all over the bare skin that’s obscenely visible beneath the open buttons). Will you just—it’s indecent, Linc countering But I’m hot, it’s freaking 92 degrees out and in the end they both win, because Lincoln’s shirt is still hanging off his shoulders and Michael has steered the two of them out, leaving Lisa with her son.
They get a scant two minutes of making out on the couch before Lisa and LJ get home, having ditched the party early as well (It’s a girl’s party) and Michael nearly screams at the prospect of having to keep the pillow in his lap and watch Pokémon until signs of arousal have dissipated. He’d really much rather have Lincoln dissipate it for him, preferably on all fours.
When Michael wakes up on the fifth day it is to LJ bouncing on his chest and he thinks, As much as I love the kid, I am going to kill him. But before the man can execute that thought, Lincoln grabs his son around the waist and pulls him down, snuggling him as he gruffly goes back to sleep. LJ stills and watches his father rapturously, oblivious to the green-tinted daggers his uncle is shooting at him through the back of Lincoln’s head. Michael moves to spoon his brother, wanting a little love too, but Lincoln only smacks the vine-like arms away and so Michael gets out of bed, huffy and pissed.
When Lincoln and LJ are finally up, Michael storms them with the instruction that they will be attending the SF Museum of Modern Art with him that day, no arguments. Lincoln hears the slight pout behind the imperial voice and gives in despite an utter lack of interest in art, Modern or not.
Michael picks that particular museum because although he holds a slight loathing of modern art, they’re hosting an exhibition called “Archigram and the Metabolists”, highlighting two related schools of architectural vernacular. Michael doesn’t care much for the spaceship cities of Archigram, but he can’t help but adore the technological whimsy of the Japanese Metabolists and won’t miss out on the chance to see the real-life models from the likes of architectural celebrities such as Kurokawa or Isozaki.
They hitch a ride with the BART again, Lisa promising to meet up with them on her lunch break since she is just a few streets over downtown. When they arrive at the front of the SF MoMA, Michael stares in admiration of Mario Botta’s building while LJ comments that it looks like a lipstick, and Lincoln stands in line to get two adult tickets and one child ticket.
When the three are inside waiting for the elevator, a woman in blue next to them turns and smiles.
“You have a beautiful family,” she says and Lincoln is about to say thank you when he realizes exactly what she means.
“Wait, we’re not—“ he starts but Michael slides his hand into his brother’s larger one, deliciously intertwining their fingers.
“Thank you,” he beams as the woman smiles back. LJ chortles and Lincoln snatches his hand out of Michael’s grasp. “He’s shy, we’re not from San Francisco,” Michael explains conspiratorially. She nods in understanding and holds the elevator door open for the three.
From that point on Michael can’t stop touching his brother, excited at the permission from a stranger to show his affection. Stop it, this is wrong Lincoln hisses between rooms but Michael only whispers back, They don’t know we’re brothers. LJ thinks this is all a very large game and he is ripe with boyish humor, giggling every time Michael places his hand on Lincoln’s lower back or brushes their hands together. Lincoln is about to go insane until at 12:27, his cell phone rings. The three boys go downstairs to meet up with Lisa and Lincoln is relieved at the intervention. At least he is until…
“I’m sick of buildings, I can’t even see the cases!” LJ complains.
“I’ll take you to some of the other floors, how about that?” Lisa suggests. “You boys can stay at the exhibition, I know how much Michael wanted to see it.”
Lincoln watches in horror as suddenly, he is left alone with a dangerously randy little brother.
“Mikey...”
“C’mon, we didn’t even get to the Metabolists yet,” he says innocently. However, the lascivious grin on his face is sending out loud, red warning signals.
We’re in public. The worst he can do is hug me or something while we’re in public. That, or just give me a boner for the next two hours, fucking hell. Lincoln resigns himself to another afternoon of keeping his dick in check; an activity he had been well-versed in ever since Michael learned how to infuse every word and movement with pornographic insinuations.
What Lincoln doesn’t know is that Michael had found an unlocked janitor’s closet when they were upstairs. What Lincoln also doesn’t know is that when they set foot back in the exhibition, his little brother will shove him inside and shut the door closed, effectively trapping Lincoln’s body between his lean frame and a low shelf.
“Michael, what are we doing in a supply closet?”
“Shh… we wouldn’t want people to find us,” Michael purrs into his brother’s ear, hand already snaked down and kneading the other man through his jeans. Lincoln bites back a groan.
Michael quickly works his hand into his brother’s boxers, unzipping the fly to release the strain and pulling the long, hard cock out while he mashes his lips into Lincoln’s.
Fuck it, he’s not going to take no for an answer, is the last thought on the older man’s mind before he clutches Michael’s waist and drags him forward, grinding their groins together in rough, scratchy circles. When Michael’s erection is throbbing painfully in confinement, Lincoln fiercely works off his brother’s slacks. They bunch around Michael’s feet on the dusty floor as he leans in, bringing their pelvises together and exalting in the feel of velvet heat, cock-on-cock.
“God, Linc, want you so bad,” Michael bites out between tongue-filled kisses. The extreme closeness of his brother for the past five days paired with the inability to act on it had given the younger man the worst case of blue balls in months and he was intent on relieving himself of the ache, supply closet or not.
Lincoln grunts wetly and flips his brother around so that the shelf is no longer digging into his ass but Michael’s. He runs his hands up his brother’s naked thighs and up and up to Michael’s pebbled nipples, tweaking them roughly as he gently, maddeningly sucks on the pale neck offered before him. When Michael groans, low and thrilling against Lincoln’s sensitive ear, he finds himself lifted and shoved onto the wooden shelf behind him. His knees are jerked forcibly apart and suddenly Lincoln’s mouth is on his cock, cheeks hollowed as he sucks greedily on Michael’s flesh.
“Oh fuck, Linc,” Michael bites his hand to keep his voice quiet, eyes fearfully trained on the light coming from beneath the door and the shadows that play across it as museum-goers traverse the room, three feet away from his brother who has now found Michael’s clenching hole a much nicer place to busy his tongue. When Lincoln hums the vibrations shoot up Michael’s ass and a small spurt of precum jets out from the tip of his reddening dick.
“Linc,” he whispers urgently. “Fill me up, please, need you now—“
Lincoln eagerly obeys and inserts a spit-slicked digit into his little brother’s hole. It’s tight, unused in days, and Michael squeaks when Lincoln twists his finger, spitting on it for meager lubrication.
“C’mon, Mikey, take it in, open up for me,” he croons, his other hand stroking the long thigh before him in soothing rubs. Soon he has two, three fingers inside that tingling hot hole and Michael is begging for Lincoln’s cock with groans and grunts that sound like now and please and Linc.
Lincoln gets up and slams his little brother’s back into the wall when he devours him, mouth gently probing in visible areas but turning fierce and bruising over Michael’s chest, nipples, abdomen. Michael moans and moans but never lets his eyes off the thin strip of light beneath the door. He is so fixated on that fluttering light that he doesn’t notice Lincoln’s intent until his legs are thrown over Lincoln’s shoulders, ass jerked forward to the edge of the shelf, and his brother’s thick cock is battering its way inside of Michael’s ass. Taken by surprise, Michael yelps.
Lincoln slams his mouth into Michael’s, trying to drown out the noise but it’s too late, the shadow underneath the doorway has stilled, and with it the brothers freeze their actions.
Fuck, fuck, fuck they think synonymously, willing the person behind the door to just leave already. Michael attempts to pacify Lincoln with soft nudges and feathery kisses upon his brother’s face but Lincoln is immobile in panic, torturously thinking of what would happen if that person simply turned the knob and opened the door, spilling light over the view of Lincoln’s half-bared ass as his cock is buried inside another man. Would they scream? Call the cops? Run to the fourth floor and fetch his son so that LJ could see his father in the throes of incest?
By the time Lincoln’s reached his sixth imagined consequence, the shadow has moved away and he can breathe again. Amazingly, his dick has remained hard, as has Michael’s, but Michael had always been a bit of an exhibitionist so that comes as no surprise.
“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Lincoln hisses, angry and relieved and horny all rolled into one impassioned emotion. He pulls his dick out of Michael’s sucking hole until only the tip is left inside, then slams the full length back in.
“Fuck,” Michael keens, scrabbling for purchase on his brother’s strong shoulders as Michael’s knees are bent into his own chest, head propped up against the back wall and threatening to snap off from the awkward angle. Lincoln bangs into him with hard, deliberate plunges that feel like ownership, and Michael is eager to be owned, opening his legs wider and offering his spasming pink hole up for his older brother to drive into.
All too soon, Michael is stroking himself in time to the quickening thrusts and when Lincoln turns his head and sinks his teeth into Michael’s thigh hard enough to leave a bruised bite mark, Michael comes.
“Oh god Linc, I’m gonna—”
“Shh, that’s is baby brother, just ride it out…,” Lincoln wraps his warm hand around Michael’s white-knuckled fist and jerks him off in tandem, milking the fluid out with long luxurious pulls. Once his little brother is spent, Lincoln returns to his own need and with a few bone-jarring thrusts into the limp, sated body, Lincoln is coming as well, gritting his teeth as days of unfulfilled arousal unleash a torrent of thick, gushing come deep inside Michael’s ass.
Lincoln comes to when Michael gingerly pulls himself off of his brother’s wet, dripping dick. The younger man whimpers around a bitten fist as he feels Lincoln’s come ooze out of his abused asshole and onto the shelf. It has to be one of the most gratifying feelings in the world, the feeling of his brother’s warm seed spilling out of his rectum.
“God, Linc.” Lincoln perks at his name and leans forward, brushing lips against his brother’s violently red ones.
“I love it when you look like that,” he whispers, taking in the sight before him. Michael’s shirt buttons hanging off, blossoming hickeys on his skin, come dripping out of his loosened asshole. “Like you just got shagged in a janitor’s closet.”
Michael grins sensually, his lips turning up as his eyes darken in post-coital lust.
Eventually the sound of footsteps outside jar the boys into cleaning themselves off. They conveniently find paper towels in a high cupboard and wipe themselves off, balling up the incriminating tissues and leaving it on the shelf. Soon they are decent again; decent but for the twin smiles they have on their faces, smug and wicked.
But when Lincoln peeks his head out, he wants to crawl in a hole and die. Unfortunately he has no choice so he steps out of the closet, Michael following him, and they meet the surprised gaze of the woman in blue from the lobby. Michael only gives a cheeky grin and she laughs good-naturedly in return, noting the vibrant shade of pink that is working it’s way across Lincoln’s face.
“Aww, you’re blushing.” God, Michael wants to kiss the embarrassment away, wants to press his lips against his brother’s soft, raw ones until Lincoln stops caring about propriety. Probably wouldn’t help, though.
“I don’t blush,” Lincoln quips, feeling his face turn even hotter. God damn it, his little brother was so bad.
-----
The last night they plan to go to a nice restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf; Lisa knows the manager there and can get the four of them in without the usual requisite reservation, plus free appetizers. At 5:30 PM, the brothers are getting ready to go out.
“It’s fucking hot though, I don’t need the jacket,” Lincoln insists, thinking about the summer heat.
“But it’s San Francisco, it’s colder there. And you’ll look like a bum without one,” Michael states, lifting the blazer back off the bed and holding it out to his older brother. “$100 per person, least you could do is look nice.”
“I always look nice.”
Michael trails his gaze down his brother’s body, currently topless from the shower and glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration. Lincoln feels the gaze on him like fingers running down his skin and hastily pulls a dress shirt on.
“Stingy. And don’t put that one on, I like your pink shirt,” Michael suggests. “Better contrast.”
Lincoln grumbles and puts the black shirt down, opting for the light-colored one instead; another gift from Veronica. The woman had a penchant for dressing Lincoln up like a Ken doll.
When the older brother had donned his charcoal-colored slacks and buttoned the pink shirt up, he rolls the sleeves up and turns back to look at his brother.
“What?” Michael asks.
“I’m ready, let’s go.”
“No you’re not.” Michael picks up the dark grey blazer again. After a few moments of reluctance, Lincoln finally gives in, knowing that out of the two of them his younger brother wins the style contest. He grabs the jacket and walks out the bedroom door to fetch LJ, oblivious to the fact that Michael is unabashedly checking out the sexy way his brother’s ass moves in the fitted dress pants.
“You coming?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
A half hour later, the three boys meet Lisa at the restaurant and they have a lovely dinner, Michael and Lisa talking politics while Lincoln and LJ gaze outside the large glass window that overlooks the bay. The sky darkens as the time slides by and soon a gorgeous, glowing cityscape spreads out below them, ship-studded waters blinking and the Golden Gate Bridge topping the view off in its curving elegance. When dinner comes to a satisfying close, complete with champagne and dessert, Michael and Lincoln take LJ outside to look at the view while Lisa freshens up in the women’s bathroom.
In front of the restaurant they lean against a weathered, wooden rail and gaze at the lazy movements of car headlights on the bridge, the way the fog rolls in over the tips of the skyscrapers, or just watching the people below them interact.
Michael glances aside at his brother and nephew, feeling absurdly content in the warm, summer night as they enjoy the peace and fullness of a satisfied belly. His brother is so beautiful in this light, dark and decadent and exuding sultriness, but still so good as he stands casually, palm on his son’s shoulder. He wants to touch him, wants to stand behind Lincoln and hold him tight, wants to bury his face in the smooth fabric of the blazer. Wants to kiss him gently, right behind Lincoln’s ear where he likes it soft and sexy.
But he doesn’t. Lincoln would never allow him to do that in front of LJ, would never let his son find out that his father had an Achilles’ heel in loving Michael.
Michael could theoretically say something right now, do something that LJ would notice and their secret would be out, thankfully out. Maybe it was about time they stopped hiding from everybody. Their love was absolute, it was strong enough, wasn’t it? Michael was tired of feeling like a dirty secret, a skeleton in Lincoln’s closet. If LJ could just be mature enough to understand…
“I can see you thinking Michael,” Lincoln interrupts. “Stop it. Just… enjoy this.”
Michael pauses, takes a deep breath. The air is slightly salty and he feels his head clear a little. He’ll stop thinking about this for the moment, but he knows it will come up again later. He can’t spend his life being forbidden from touching his lover in public, prohibited from even flirting without Lincoln swiveling his head around to see who’s watching. He just can’t.
Nonetheless, Michael stops thinking about it. For now.
-----
Archigram
Kisho Kurokawa (This one was actually built, the capsules come out and can be updated with newer facilities. Crazy!!)
Arata Isozaki
Mario Botta (exterior and interior)
Back | Next
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:
aeroport_artRating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 4,501
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: I apologize in advance for the frequent blurts about architecture... I just bought a book and I'm having fun with it :D. If you want to see works of the architects I mention in this chapter, I included a few pictures at the very end. Also, thanks to
tabularassa for coming up with the museum setting! This chapter kind of took awhile so I don't know if it flows as well as some of the other ones but nonetheless, feedback = love!Summary: Michael has always wanted his brother, and Lincoln has to wrestle with the responsibility of a reciprocated love that can never be... or can it? Spanning two decades, this story attempts to explain Michael/Lincoln within the confines of canon.
For previous chapters, ( Click here )
Chapter 15
6 months later (June 2002)
Michael eyed the door of the bathroom. He nudged his brother in the side, then swiveled back and looked at the thin fold-out door meaningfully. Lincoln goggled and then emphatically shook his head no.
“I can’t even fit in there by myself!!” Lincoln hissed. This being his first experience in an airplane, the older brother wasn’t in the mood for Michael’s tastes in alternative bedrooms.
Michael performed his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, trying to guilt trip his older brother into joining the Mile High club with him, but considering the context Lincoln only laughed aloud.
“Nuh-uh, not this time baby brother. You’re not gonna make me feel bad for this.”
Michael gave up and sulked, pressing the service button and calling a flight attendant over to request two shots of whiskey. Lincoln went back to looking outside the small window and listening to the surrounding hum of the air ventilation.
Beneath them a canopy of smooth, whipped clouds laid out like an endless stream, the perfectly blue sky yawning above. The 32-year old couldn’t get enough of the view, spending the bulk of the four-hour flight with his neck craned towards the window and losing himself in the surreal picture. Unfortunately, his fascination with the atmospheric scenery wasn’t making his little brother happy.
“Pay attention to me,” Michael quietly implored, words husky and overflowing with innuendo as his alcohol-warmed breath blew hot against Lincoln’s neck. The older man shivered involuntarily but continued to bask in the rapturous view.
“No. You need to learn some restraint,” Lincoln chided, eyes unfocused as he watched the tiny white froths of ocean waves creep along below.
“Restraint? I’m plenty restrained.” Lincoln stopped staring outside just long enough to give his brother a pointed look. “Last night doesn’t count. I’m about to lose you to my nephew for the next week, the least I could do was make our last night count.”
“This isn’t a contest, Mikey.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re spending your Sunday morning flipping pancakes instead of—“ Michael paused to check for eavesdroppers. He lowered his voice, “—sucking me off in the shower—“
“Michael!”
“—I’d count that as a loss,” he finished. “LJ one, Michael zero.”
Lincoln had been about to berate his younger brother for his pettiness but he couldn’t help it, the younger man was just. Too. Cute. Especially when he was being a dork.
“I think you should stop taking advantage of your free drinks, baby brother. That’s what, your sixth one?”
“It’s been four hours!”
“Two and a half. And you had them all in the last hour.”
“Well, it will be four hours by the time we land, and if you average the drinks out, I really didn’t have all that much.”
Lincoln laughed at his slightly tipsy little brother. “Stop acting so immature, you’re supposed to be the adult in this relationship,” he quipped, throwing Michael’s often-said words back at him. Michael only looked confused.
“But you are…”
“Never mind.” Lincoln sneaked his hand over to his brother’s thigh and squeezed it affectionately. “Just take your nap now.”
Michael looked at his brother awhile longer, feeling like he’d been had but not knowing exactly how. Letting it slide, he pulled the cheap, felt blanket over his chest and leaned his head against Lincoln’s shoulder, squirming for a comfortable position. After a string of unsuccessful attempts, he looked up at his older brother.
“May I use your lap for a pillow?” Large, innocent blue eyes. But knowing what to look for, Lincoln noticed the (horny) gleam in them anyway.
“No.”
“You’re such a prude, Linc.” Michael huffily went back to using his brother’s shoulder as a cushion. The older man smiled and lightly patted him on the exposed cheek.
“Have a nice nap, Mikey.”
“Hmph.”
-----
“Dad!!!”
10-year old LJ Burrows spotted the strong build of his father, whom he hadn’t seen in over six months, and sprinted over as quickly as his thin legs would carry him.
“Hey there, kiddo!” Lincoln dropped his carry-on and kneeled down to embrace his enthusiastic son, holding him tight and letting his son’s clean, boyish scent wash over him. Taller than I remember him, he rued, clapping the boy on the back and mussing his golden hair before sitting back on his haunches.
“You been taking care of your mother?,” Lincoln looked beyond the terminal and spied Lisa, waiting patiently in a seat.
“Yes sir,” LJ affirmed before turning out of his father’s grasp and latching himself onto his uncle’s lean leg. “Uncle Mikey!!! I forgot how tall you are!!!”
“Yes, hello to you too,” Michael said, attempting to pry the leech-like hands off his upper thigh and push the smiling face out of his general crotch area. After having moved back far enough to look at LJ properly, he grinned and put his hands in his pockets. “You’re not such a munchkin anymore.”
“I was never a munchkin! I’m the third tallest boy in my class,” LJ refuted, prudently leaving out the fact that nearly all the girls were taller than the boys anyway. His uncle only chuckled indulgently. After the three had exchanged greetings, they made their way over to the waiting mother.
“Thanks for picking us up, Lisa,” Michael said as Lincoln got mauled by his son, who was attempting to help with the luggage but was really only causing more work.
“No problem, you know I’ve been looking forward to seeing you boys again too,” she graciously responded.
Soon the group of four had made their way to the parking lot where Lisa was parked and proceeded to load the car with their belongings. On the drive home they chatted about the things Lincoln and Michael wanted see and do, working out a rough itinerary. When they got to Lisa’s home in Milbrae, a small city about fifteen minutes away, she showed her guests to their shared room (in which Michael sneakily waggled his eyebrows at his brother), then left them alone to get settled in.
It was 9 PM; a little early for bed but the boys opted to sleep since Lincoln was tired from his first-time experience in dealing with convoluted airports and uncomfortable coach seats and he really just wanted to get some shut-eye. When the older man stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and climbed into the freshly laundered sheets, Michael had no choice but to join him.
“Is cuddling okay, at least?” Michael asked in a small voice, cautiously winding his long arms around his brother’s midsection and tucking himself in behind the curled body.
After a pause. “Yeah. Yeah,” Lincoln repeated, rolling over so that he was facing blue eyes— like the view from the airplane— and leaned over just a bit so that their lips met.
“Goodnight,” he said, words mumbled against Michael’s slightly open mouth.
“Goodnight, Linc.”
-----
Lincoln and Michael spend the first day with LJ and Lisa, visiting Golden Gate Park, lunching on Embarcadero, watching the sea lions at the pier. LJ imitates the ork-ork of the shining creatures and claps his hands together like flippers while the adults enjoy the cool breeze against their faces.
The second day Lisa has work, so the brothers figure out the BART system and take the train from Milbrae straight into the Mission district of San Francisco, LJ giddily in tow. Lincoln feels right at home in the tagged granite and outdoor markets but Michael doesn’t keep his eye off his nephew until they hit Market. They somehow wind up on Castro street (I wanted to go to Haight, why are we stopping here??) and Lincoln covers his son’s eyes while Michael heartily indulges in chatting with the friendly bystanders and shopkeepers. When they leer at Lincoln’s muscled body Michael only smirks triumphantly and slings an arm around his brother, who is busy not noticing much at all except his son and the concrete sidewalk. By the time they find their way out of the rainbow-lined street, Michael has two new shirts and a cock ring that Lincoln doesn’t know about (yet).
The third day the boys hit up the South Bay, conveniently finding themselves in the midst of an Art and Wine festival. Michael nearly bounces out of his shoes when he finds a vintage Bordeaux for a fourth of its regular price (at which Lincoln spits out his beer… alcohol should never cost that much). LJ trails along, bored, whining for a taste of the elusive wine but Michael swats Lincoln’s pushover hands away.
They dine at the Old Spaghetti Factory in hopes of placating LJ and it works, the boy grinning over the top of his brownie and ice cream sundae. Michael takes a spoonful and licks up the whipped cream, purposely letting some linger on his lower lip. Once he has Lincoln’s attention he slowly, leisurely pulls the bit of white cream into his mouth. Much to the chagrin of his son, Lincoln hurriedly eats the rest of the whipped cream to prevent further opportunities. He does not need to have a hard on for his brother in public. But Michael savors his vanilla ice cream, sticky and messily, and Lincoln gives up the fight, deciding that the tablecloth was a good, good invention.
They have three days left and LJ spends the next at a classmate’s birthday party. Lincoln and Michael stick around for the beginning but by noon the clowns are starting to get to Michael (as are the hordes of young mothers ogling his brother in his sharp black shirt, “man-slut” written all over the bare skin that’s obscenely visible beneath the open buttons). Will you just—it’s indecent, Linc countering But I’m hot, it’s freaking 92 degrees out and in the end they both win, because Lincoln’s shirt is still hanging off his shoulders and Michael has steered the two of them out, leaving Lisa with her son.
They get a scant two minutes of making out on the couch before Lisa and LJ get home, having ditched the party early as well (It’s a girl’s party) and Michael nearly screams at the prospect of having to keep the pillow in his lap and watch Pokémon until signs of arousal have dissipated. He’d really much rather have Lincoln dissipate it for him, preferably on all fours.
When Michael wakes up on the fifth day it is to LJ bouncing on his chest and he thinks, As much as I love the kid, I am going to kill him. But before the man can execute that thought, Lincoln grabs his son around the waist and pulls him down, snuggling him as he gruffly goes back to sleep. LJ stills and watches his father rapturously, oblivious to the green-tinted daggers his uncle is shooting at him through the back of Lincoln’s head. Michael moves to spoon his brother, wanting a little love too, but Lincoln only smacks the vine-like arms away and so Michael gets out of bed, huffy and pissed.
When Lincoln and LJ are finally up, Michael storms them with the instruction that they will be attending the SF Museum of Modern Art with him that day, no arguments. Lincoln hears the slight pout behind the imperial voice and gives in despite an utter lack of interest in art, Modern or not.
Michael picks that particular museum because although he holds a slight loathing of modern art, they’re hosting an exhibition called “Archigram and the Metabolists”, highlighting two related schools of architectural vernacular. Michael doesn’t care much for the spaceship cities of Archigram, but he can’t help but adore the technological whimsy of the Japanese Metabolists and won’t miss out on the chance to see the real-life models from the likes of architectural celebrities such as Kurokawa or Isozaki.
They hitch a ride with the BART again, Lisa promising to meet up with them on her lunch break since she is just a few streets over downtown. When they arrive at the front of the SF MoMA, Michael stares in admiration of Mario Botta’s building while LJ comments that it looks like a lipstick, and Lincoln stands in line to get two adult tickets and one child ticket.
When the three are inside waiting for the elevator, a woman in blue next to them turns and smiles.
“You have a beautiful family,” she says and Lincoln is about to say thank you when he realizes exactly what she means.
“Wait, we’re not—“ he starts but Michael slides his hand into his brother’s larger one, deliciously intertwining their fingers.
“Thank you,” he beams as the woman smiles back. LJ chortles and Lincoln snatches his hand out of Michael’s grasp. “He’s shy, we’re not from San Francisco,” Michael explains conspiratorially. She nods in understanding and holds the elevator door open for the three.
From that point on Michael can’t stop touching his brother, excited at the permission from a stranger to show his affection. Stop it, this is wrong Lincoln hisses between rooms but Michael only whispers back, They don’t know we’re brothers. LJ thinks this is all a very large game and he is ripe with boyish humor, giggling every time Michael places his hand on Lincoln’s lower back or brushes their hands together. Lincoln is about to go insane until at 12:27, his cell phone rings. The three boys go downstairs to meet up with Lisa and Lincoln is relieved at the intervention. At least he is until…
“I’m sick of buildings, I can’t even see the cases!” LJ complains.
“I’ll take you to some of the other floors, how about that?” Lisa suggests. “You boys can stay at the exhibition, I know how much Michael wanted to see it.”
Lincoln watches in horror as suddenly, he is left alone with a dangerously randy little brother.
“Mikey...”
“C’mon, we didn’t even get to the Metabolists yet,” he says innocently. However, the lascivious grin on his face is sending out loud, red warning signals.
We’re in public. The worst he can do is hug me or something while we’re in public. That, or just give me a boner for the next two hours, fucking hell. Lincoln resigns himself to another afternoon of keeping his dick in check; an activity he had been well-versed in ever since Michael learned how to infuse every word and movement with pornographic insinuations.
What Lincoln doesn’t know is that Michael had found an unlocked janitor’s closet when they were upstairs. What Lincoln also doesn’t know is that when they set foot back in the exhibition, his little brother will shove him inside and shut the door closed, effectively trapping Lincoln’s body between his lean frame and a low shelf.
“Michael, what are we doing in a supply closet?”
“Shh… we wouldn’t want people to find us,” Michael purrs into his brother’s ear, hand already snaked down and kneading the other man through his jeans. Lincoln bites back a groan.
Michael quickly works his hand into his brother’s boxers, unzipping the fly to release the strain and pulling the long, hard cock out while he mashes his lips into Lincoln’s.
Fuck it, he’s not going to take no for an answer, is the last thought on the older man’s mind before he clutches Michael’s waist and drags him forward, grinding their groins together in rough, scratchy circles. When Michael’s erection is throbbing painfully in confinement, Lincoln fiercely works off his brother’s slacks. They bunch around Michael’s feet on the dusty floor as he leans in, bringing their pelvises together and exalting in the feel of velvet heat, cock-on-cock.
“God, Linc, want you so bad,” Michael bites out between tongue-filled kisses. The extreme closeness of his brother for the past five days paired with the inability to act on it had given the younger man the worst case of blue balls in months and he was intent on relieving himself of the ache, supply closet or not.
Lincoln grunts wetly and flips his brother around so that the shelf is no longer digging into his ass but Michael’s. He runs his hands up his brother’s naked thighs and up and up to Michael’s pebbled nipples, tweaking them roughly as he gently, maddeningly sucks on the pale neck offered before him. When Michael groans, low and thrilling against Lincoln’s sensitive ear, he finds himself lifted and shoved onto the wooden shelf behind him. His knees are jerked forcibly apart and suddenly Lincoln’s mouth is on his cock, cheeks hollowed as he sucks greedily on Michael’s flesh.
“Oh fuck, Linc,” Michael bites his hand to keep his voice quiet, eyes fearfully trained on the light coming from beneath the door and the shadows that play across it as museum-goers traverse the room, three feet away from his brother who has now found Michael’s clenching hole a much nicer place to busy his tongue. When Lincoln hums the vibrations shoot up Michael’s ass and a small spurt of precum jets out from the tip of his reddening dick.
“Linc,” he whispers urgently. “Fill me up, please, need you now—“
Lincoln eagerly obeys and inserts a spit-slicked digit into his little brother’s hole. It’s tight, unused in days, and Michael squeaks when Lincoln twists his finger, spitting on it for meager lubrication.
“C’mon, Mikey, take it in, open up for me,” he croons, his other hand stroking the long thigh before him in soothing rubs. Soon he has two, three fingers inside that tingling hot hole and Michael is begging for Lincoln’s cock with groans and grunts that sound like now and please and Linc.
Lincoln gets up and slams his little brother’s back into the wall when he devours him, mouth gently probing in visible areas but turning fierce and bruising over Michael’s chest, nipples, abdomen. Michael moans and moans but never lets his eyes off the thin strip of light beneath the door. He is so fixated on that fluttering light that he doesn’t notice Lincoln’s intent until his legs are thrown over Lincoln’s shoulders, ass jerked forward to the edge of the shelf, and his brother’s thick cock is battering its way inside of Michael’s ass. Taken by surprise, Michael yelps.
Lincoln slams his mouth into Michael’s, trying to drown out the noise but it’s too late, the shadow underneath the doorway has stilled, and with it the brothers freeze their actions.
Fuck, fuck, fuck they think synonymously, willing the person behind the door to just leave already. Michael attempts to pacify Lincoln with soft nudges and feathery kisses upon his brother’s face but Lincoln is immobile in panic, torturously thinking of what would happen if that person simply turned the knob and opened the door, spilling light over the view of Lincoln’s half-bared ass as his cock is buried inside another man. Would they scream? Call the cops? Run to the fourth floor and fetch his son so that LJ could see his father in the throes of incest?
By the time Lincoln’s reached his sixth imagined consequence, the shadow has moved away and he can breathe again. Amazingly, his dick has remained hard, as has Michael’s, but Michael had always been a bit of an exhibitionist so that comes as no surprise.
“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Lincoln hisses, angry and relieved and horny all rolled into one impassioned emotion. He pulls his dick out of Michael’s sucking hole until only the tip is left inside, then slams the full length back in.
“Fuck,” Michael keens, scrabbling for purchase on his brother’s strong shoulders as Michael’s knees are bent into his own chest, head propped up against the back wall and threatening to snap off from the awkward angle. Lincoln bangs into him with hard, deliberate plunges that feel like ownership, and Michael is eager to be owned, opening his legs wider and offering his spasming pink hole up for his older brother to drive into.
All too soon, Michael is stroking himself in time to the quickening thrusts and when Lincoln turns his head and sinks his teeth into Michael’s thigh hard enough to leave a bruised bite mark, Michael comes.
“Oh god Linc, I’m gonna—”
“Shh, that’s is baby brother, just ride it out…,” Lincoln wraps his warm hand around Michael’s white-knuckled fist and jerks him off in tandem, milking the fluid out with long luxurious pulls. Once his little brother is spent, Lincoln returns to his own need and with a few bone-jarring thrusts into the limp, sated body, Lincoln is coming as well, gritting his teeth as days of unfulfilled arousal unleash a torrent of thick, gushing come deep inside Michael’s ass.
Lincoln comes to when Michael gingerly pulls himself off of his brother’s wet, dripping dick. The younger man whimpers around a bitten fist as he feels Lincoln’s come ooze out of his abused asshole and onto the shelf. It has to be one of the most gratifying feelings in the world, the feeling of his brother’s warm seed spilling out of his rectum.
“God, Linc.” Lincoln perks at his name and leans forward, brushing lips against his brother’s violently red ones.
“I love it when you look like that,” he whispers, taking in the sight before him. Michael’s shirt buttons hanging off, blossoming hickeys on his skin, come dripping out of his loosened asshole. “Like you just got shagged in a janitor’s closet.”
Michael grins sensually, his lips turning up as his eyes darken in post-coital lust.
Eventually the sound of footsteps outside jar the boys into cleaning themselves off. They conveniently find paper towels in a high cupboard and wipe themselves off, balling up the incriminating tissues and leaving it on the shelf. Soon they are decent again; decent but for the twin smiles they have on their faces, smug and wicked.
But when Lincoln peeks his head out, he wants to crawl in a hole and die. Unfortunately he has no choice so he steps out of the closet, Michael following him, and they meet the surprised gaze of the woman in blue from the lobby. Michael only gives a cheeky grin and she laughs good-naturedly in return, noting the vibrant shade of pink that is working it’s way across Lincoln’s face.
“Aww, you’re blushing.” God, Michael wants to kiss the embarrassment away, wants to press his lips against his brother’s soft, raw ones until Lincoln stops caring about propriety. Probably wouldn’t help, though.
“I don’t blush,” Lincoln quips, feeling his face turn even hotter. God damn it, his little brother was so bad.
-----
The last night they plan to go to a nice restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf; Lisa knows the manager there and can get the four of them in without the usual requisite reservation, plus free appetizers. At 5:30 PM, the brothers are getting ready to go out.
“It’s fucking hot though, I don’t need the jacket,” Lincoln insists, thinking about the summer heat.
“But it’s San Francisco, it’s colder there. And you’ll look like a bum without one,” Michael states, lifting the blazer back off the bed and holding it out to his older brother. “$100 per person, least you could do is look nice.”
“I always look nice.”
Michael trails his gaze down his brother’s body, currently topless from the shower and glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration. Lincoln feels the gaze on him like fingers running down his skin and hastily pulls a dress shirt on.
“Stingy. And don’t put that one on, I like your pink shirt,” Michael suggests. “Better contrast.”
Lincoln grumbles and puts the black shirt down, opting for the light-colored one instead; another gift from Veronica. The woman had a penchant for dressing Lincoln up like a Ken doll.
When the older brother had donned his charcoal-colored slacks and buttoned the pink shirt up, he rolls the sleeves up and turns back to look at his brother.
“What?” Michael asks.
“I’m ready, let’s go.”
“No you’re not.” Michael picks up the dark grey blazer again. After a few moments of reluctance, Lincoln finally gives in, knowing that out of the two of them his younger brother wins the style contest. He grabs the jacket and walks out the bedroom door to fetch LJ, oblivious to the fact that Michael is unabashedly checking out the sexy way his brother’s ass moves in the fitted dress pants.
“You coming?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
A half hour later, the three boys meet Lisa at the restaurant and they have a lovely dinner, Michael and Lisa talking politics while Lincoln and LJ gaze outside the large glass window that overlooks the bay. The sky darkens as the time slides by and soon a gorgeous, glowing cityscape spreads out below them, ship-studded waters blinking and the Golden Gate Bridge topping the view off in its curving elegance. When dinner comes to a satisfying close, complete with champagne and dessert, Michael and Lincoln take LJ outside to look at the view while Lisa freshens up in the women’s bathroom.
In front of the restaurant they lean against a weathered, wooden rail and gaze at the lazy movements of car headlights on the bridge, the way the fog rolls in over the tips of the skyscrapers, or just watching the people below them interact.
Michael glances aside at his brother and nephew, feeling absurdly content in the warm, summer night as they enjoy the peace and fullness of a satisfied belly. His brother is so beautiful in this light, dark and decadent and exuding sultriness, but still so good as he stands casually, palm on his son’s shoulder. He wants to touch him, wants to stand behind Lincoln and hold him tight, wants to bury his face in the smooth fabric of the blazer. Wants to kiss him gently, right behind Lincoln’s ear where he likes it soft and sexy.
But he doesn’t. Lincoln would never allow him to do that in front of LJ, would never let his son find out that his father had an Achilles’ heel in loving Michael.
Michael could theoretically say something right now, do something that LJ would notice and their secret would be out, thankfully out. Maybe it was about time they stopped hiding from everybody. Their love was absolute, it was strong enough, wasn’t it? Michael was tired of feeling like a dirty secret, a skeleton in Lincoln’s closet. If LJ could just be mature enough to understand…
“I can see you thinking Michael,” Lincoln interrupts. “Stop it. Just… enjoy this.”
Michael pauses, takes a deep breath. The air is slightly salty and he feels his head clear a little. He’ll stop thinking about this for the moment, but he knows it will come up again later. He can’t spend his life being forbidden from touching his lover in public, prohibited from even flirting without Lincoln swiveling his head around to see who’s watching. He just can’t.
Nonetheless, Michael stops thinking about it. For now.
-----
Archigram
Kisho Kurokawa (This one was actually built, the capsules come out and can be updated with newer facilities. Crazy!!)
Arata Isozaki
Mario Botta (exterior and interior)
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:23 am (UTC)Thanks for the super sweet comments >___< So glad that it flowed, because when I wrote it it was broken up into like, fifteen short sessions so I didn't know if I could keep the narrative consistent.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 01:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:47 am (UTC)you write beautifullty
no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 09:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 07:01 pm (UTC)Is it jarring? I'm always aware of which tense I'm in, I just don't know if it's confusing or not. If it is jarring, would you rather it be in the present or past tense?
no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 10:42 am (UTC)It's so nice to see them back together, I like how Michael can just let himself go and be himself around Lincoln now after all that time scheming and trying to think of ways to please his brother and get him back. I think you must be one of the few people who can write brotherly love without any 'eww' factor and a lot of 'awww'!!!
I love your updates, and although I can't always comment, I always read your story, I love it!!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-03 02:22 pm (UTC)Great Progression
Date: 2006-11-02 10:26 pm (UTC)Re: Great Progression
Date: 2006-11-03 03:47 am (UTC)Your comments always make me smile, and they're so deliciously constructive ;__; xoxoxo, Li
no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 04:40 pm (UTC)This bit, it's practically canon: ... in ever since Michael learned how to infuse every word and movement with pornographic insinuations. I can totally understand Linc, in my opinion that's what Michael keeps doing in every single episode of the show (I think at some point even Sarah told him something about his
pornybehaviour and how it could get him into trouble), or it's just my dirty imagination that makes me see things... naughty things everywhere XDAlso, you definitely deserve bonus points for brotherslash hottest scene set in a public place.
~~~~~~
Of course I've read the drabbles, too. They are really amazing, I liked the angsty atmosphere, the darker tones in which you portrayed the boys' relationship and Michael obsession in particular. As a reader, I've always had a weak spot for drabbles cause when they're so well written (as in this case) they can reach the core of an emotion in a way a longer story isn't always able to do. Mmh, I'm not sure if my words make any sense, however I just wanted to tell you I hope you'll keep experimenting with this genre ♥
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Date: 2006-11-07 01:38 am (UTC)And thanks about the Seven Sins comment too :3 I do like short drabbles every once in awhile so expect more!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 02:28 pm (UTC)first, i wanna say sorry, so sorry about what happened with the whole plagiarizing business over the DxK fandom -_-
i wanna relpy the comment you gave me before, but it seemed like the entry has been deleted too
in fact, i really enjoy the story ^___^ um, YOUR story actually..
so far i think she never left an email address or anything, so i guess you couldn't contact her v.v ,,,what a girl!
and thanks for thelling me that you're the real author of this fic
because i do loooooooooove this. *smiles*
no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 02:35 pm (UTC)it must be suck knowing that someone is plagiarizing your fic,
but oh it means that your fic is so great that she think she couldnt write it as great as you so she just copy yours and labeled it as hers
~~~~
,,and maybe i'll read this fic
i need to know what would happen next^^"
no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 06:00 pm (UTC)Ouch!!!
Date: 2006-12-10 04:09 pm (UTC)“I love it when you look like that,” he whispers, taking in the sight before him. Michael’s shirt buttons hanging off, blossoming hickeys on his skin, come dripping out of his loosened asshole. “Like you just got shagged in a janitor’s closet.
Oh, how I love seeing Michael look like that too!! Fabulous image!
The woman in blue thinking they were a family?!! Adorable!! There was so much in there that I absolutely loved I could be here for hours if I go through them all! It was all so gorgeous and funny and sexy...*thuds* Ouch!
The pics of all the stuff Michael wanted to see really helped with the enjoyment of the fic...and I am so impressed with your knowledge of archetecture! The Mario Botta building is beautiful!
Okay, I think I might need a cold shower before even attempting to read another chapter! Because the cock ring Michael has that Lincoln doesn't know about yet? I'm kind of hoping he learns about it in the next one!! *winks* Oh, I love boys with toys!!
G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S!!!!
Re: Ouch!!!
Date: 2006-12-10 10:05 pm (UTC)Re: Ouch!!!
Date: 2006-12-11 03:31 pm (UTC)*hugs you gratefully*