Prison Break - Game
Title: Game
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1415
Summary: It’s a game he plays every now and then, testing the boundaries, seeing how too far he can push and how Lincoln will respond.
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink, based on a prompt by foophile. This is take #1 on the prompt... Take #2 will be up tomorrow.
Prompt & kink by foophile: The kinky little fuck. Bites/bruises.
Beta: Many thanks to foxriverinmate. Remaining mistakes are mine.
The steamy mirror of Michael’s bathroom displays in blurred colors marks and blotches that won’t fade and heal for a few days.
Lincoln suspects that Michael did it on purpose.
Scratch that. Lincoln knows that Michael did it on purpose, the kinky little fuck. It’s a game he plays every now and then, testing the boundaries, seeing how too far he can push and how Lincoln will respond. It’s a warped vestige of a baby brother teasing his elder, and an outrageous display of need and love.
Lincoln’s lips throb in a not entirely unpleasant way. Maybe it’s just an impression; maybe it’s actually from when Michael kissed-bit them in earnest in the midst of a delirious orgasm, fucking himself onto Lincoln’s cock. His brother can be intense. The kiss-biting was the last demonstration of Michael’s ardor before he fell soundly asleep, barely bothering to slide off Lincoln’s softening dick. Lincoln rolled with it, gathered him into his arms and kissed his jaw. Sometimes, Michael just needs it like this, hard and rough and so fervent that both of them will ache for a few days. There is no way Lincoln can refuse him, both because he doesn’t have the heart and strength to say no, and because it’s so fucking good anyway.
It had started out earlier, in the elevator. Michael cornered him and trapped him against the wall, hands on his hips and face in the crook of his neck. Lincoln realized too late what he was up to, when the collar of his tee-shirt was pulled to the side and Michael’s teeth sank into the muscle. Twice. Hickeys. Could have been sweet and cute if they had both been fifteen and not related by blood. By the time the doors opened with a chirping sound, Michael was still assaulting his neck and shamelessly rubbing himself against Lincoln. His cock was hard and hot against Lincoln’s even through his smart dress pants, lewdly bulging and tenting the luxurious fabric. Lincoln couldn’t refrain from giving it a quick squeeze; Michael’s struggling for breath was a nice reward, albeit an insufficient one.
Hence the rug burns on Lincoln’s knees. Lincoln will admit that they are his fault - but what could he do after having been mauled and pleaded with for about fifteen floors? As soon as the door of Michael’s loft had been locked, Lincoln pushed him onto his back on the carpeted floor, freed himself from his jeans and boxers and straddled Michael’s face. Michael smirked and opened wide to welcome the stiff cock bumping demandingly against his chin and lips. His fingers dipped into Lincoln’s hips and left perfectly round bruises as he was urging his brother deeper into his throat - and a few seconds later, was forcing him away, suddenly stopping everything just when Lincoln was about to come on his tongue. His panted “Wait, I want you to fuck me,” had Lincoln push against the too smart mouth and threatened to tip him over the edge. He fought the instinctive reaction, knowing Michael would give him hell if he didn’t provide Mike what he hoped for.
Michael has trimmed nails - those damn hands with their long fingers that Lincoln likes so much on him and in him, to the point that he’s come to take pleasure even in the marks they leave. As trimmed and neat as they are, though, said nails drew long pink lines onto Lincoln’s back, from the underside of his buttocks to the top of his shoulders, on his flanks, on the back of his arms. Some of the marks were deep enough to let blood surge and stain the white Egyptian cotton sheets when Lincoln pulled off and lay near Michael’s temporarily satiated body. Michael’s dig-and-rake had happened because, even as Lincoln was taking him and rocking him good, Michael felt it still wasn’t enough: he wanted more and whipped Lincoln into giving it to him. He got more. Lincoln bent him in two, manhandling his hips high and pushing his knees in his face, and drove into him. Deep and unmercifully, until Michael’s brash demands turned into unarticulated moans that morphed into screams and then into almost-pleading sobs. Lincoln was rewarded with the maddening clenching of Michael’s body around his cock, a generous gush of semen between their bellies, and small crescent marks on his forearms.
He probably has faint bruises on the hidden and tender skin of his inner thighs and the cleft of his buttocks because Michael thought it would be a nice idea to rekindle him for a second round by licking and tonguing him there. He got carried away, obviously, and kissed, sucked and scrapped his teeth until Lincoln twisted beneath him and advised him to stop if he actually wanted that second round - Lincoln was this close to losing it and coming on the sheets, and he highly doubted this was what Michael was after. He could feel his brother’s mirth and an ultimate bite before Michael let him go. Lincoln won’t linger, but the slight discomfort he experiences this morning was so totally worth it.
He might have bitten Michael too. Just a little bit. It was hard to resist when his brother turned over onto his stomach and, watching him over his shoulder, offered himself, ass slightly pushed up and legs spread wide. Or when Michael ordered him to stop and lie on his back. Michael took him in and rode him, then, his eyes locked on Lincoln’s and his mouth agape in pleasure. First, Lincoln left a single, clear imprint of teeth on his shoulder blade; then he playfully nibbled the fingers Michael was thrusting in and out of Lincoln’s mouth in a simulation of a fellatio Lincoln was way too happy to provide. It was nothing compared with the unleashing of bites, scrapes and bruises Michael left all over him, though. In that respect, Lincoln’s nicer - most of the time.
Lincoln catches him as he gets out of the shower. He breathes in the clean scent of skin and soap, spins Michael around to face the mirror and presses his morning erection against the wet and firm buttocks. Michael looks at him through the mirror. His face and whole stance are hesitant, almost reluctant. Pointedly ignoring the less than enthusiastic reaction, Lincoln slightly bends him over the sink and positions him to his liking.
“I’m a bit sore...” Michael trails off at Lincoln’s dark smile. What’s about to happen is obvious and makes him swallow hard.
“Of course you’re a bit sore.”
It’s because he’s a bit sore that Lincoln is kind enough to use so much of the lube he grabs from the cabinet and to ease his way in slowly. And it’s because Lincoln is a bit sore and deserves retaliation that he thrusts in harsh and sharp jabs, pushing him rhythmically against the cold porcelain. Michael is awfully quiet. Holding onto the sink, his pupils dilated and black with lust, he visibly basks in Lincoln’s final comeback to his come-ons.
“Touch yourself,” Lincoln orders without changing his punitive rhythm. He closes his hand around Michael’s elegant fingers and forces him to jerk himself off. It doesn’t last for long. The combination of damp skin, flushed cheeks and neck, tight ass and busy hand gets to Lincoln hard and fast. Michael follows him within seconds, a broken groan betraying his pain-pleasure, come spurting messily on their joined hands.
As soon as Lincoln’s pulled out, Michael turns around in his arms and kisses him. Soft and tender, lazy, the frenzy of the night forgotten or worked out. That’s a different flavor of Michael that Lincoln plans to enjoy later. For now, when his brother tries to follow him in the shower, Lincoln plants a hand in the center of Michael’s chest to stop him and shakes his head.
“Nice try, but it’s not going to happen.”
There is saliva on Michael’s neck where Lincoln licked him seconds ago, semen slowly dripping out of his body, and a sheen of Lincoln’s sweat all over his back. Their morning encounter has been fast and swift, and the remaining traces are faint, only perceptible by Michael and perhaps Lincoln because he knows what to look for. It’s neat and just enough; perfect.
“You left your marks on me,” Lincoln says, extending an arm to test the temperature of the water. “You’ll keep mine until tonight. I’ll clean you myself. Fair enough, huh?”
Michael’s annoyed yet turned-on glance tells Lincoln that it is fair enough; and that he’ll be home early, probably with balm and baby oil and other stuff to make it up to his big brother. Lincoln smirks as he slips into the shower: if Michael wants to play, he’s always game.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Category: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest
Word Count: ~ 1415
Summary: It’s a game he plays every now and then, testing the boundaries, seeing how too far he can push and how Lincoln will respond.
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink, based on a prompt by foophile. This is take #1 on the prompt... Take #2 will be up tomorrow.
Prompt & kink by foophile: The kinky little fuck. Bites/bruises.
Beta: Many thanks to foxriverinmate. Remaining mistakes are mine.
The steamy mirror of Michael’s bathroom displays in blurred colors marks and blotches that won’t fade and heal for a few days.
Lincoln suspects that Michael did it on purpose.
Scratch that. Lincoln knows that Michael did it on purpose, the kinky little fuck. It’s a game he plays every now and then, testing the boundaries, seeing how too far he can push and how Lincoln will respond. It’s a warped vestige of a baby brother teasing his elder, and an outrageous display of need and love.
Lincoln’s lips throb in a not entirely unpleasant way. Maybe it’s just an impression; maybe it’s actually from when Michael kissed-bit them in earnest in the midst of a delirious orgasm, fucking himself onto Lincoln’s cock. His brother can be intense. The kiss-biting was the last demonstration of Michael’s ardor before he fell soundly asleep, barely bothering to slide off Lincoln’s softening dick. Lincoln rolled with it, gathered him into his arms and kissed his jaw. Sometimes, Michael just needs it like this, hard and rough and so fervent that both of them will ache for a few days. There is no way Lincoln can refuse him, both because he doesn’t have the heart and strength to say no, and because it’s so fucking good anyway.
It had started out earlier, in the elevator. Michael cornered him and trapped him against the wall, hands on his hips and face in the crook of his neck. Lincoln realized too late what he was up to, when the collar of his tee-shirt was pulled to the side and Michael’s teeth sank into the muscle. Twice. Hickeys. Could have been sweet and cute if they had both been fifteen and not related by blood. By the time the doors opened with a chirping sound, Michael was still assaulting his neck and shamelessly rubbing himself against Lincoln. His cock was hard and hot against Lincoln’s even through his smart dress pants, lewdly bulging and tenting the luxurious fabric. Lincoln couldn’t refrain from giving it a quick squeeze; Michael’s struggling for breath was a nice reward, albeit an insufficient one.
Hence the rug burns on Lincoln’s knees. Lincoln will admit that they are his fault - but what could he do after having been mauled and pleaded with for about fifteen floors? As soon as the door of Michael’s loft had been locked, Lincoln pushed him onto his back on the carpeted floor, freed himself from his jeans and boxers and straddled Michael’s face. Michael smirked and opened wide to welcome the stiff cock bumping demandingly against his chin and lips. His fingers dipped into Lincoln’s hips and left perfectly round bruises as he was urging his brother deeper into his throat - and a few seconds later, was forcing him away, suddenly stopping everything just when Lincoln was about to come on his tongue. His panted “Wait, I want you to fuck me,” had Lincoln push against the too smart mouth and threatened to tip him over the edge. He fought the instinctive reaction, knowing Michael would give him hell if he didn’t provide Mike what he hoped for.
Michael has trimmed nails - those damn hands with their long fingers that Lincoln likes so much on him and in him, to the point that he’s come to take pleasure even in the marks they leave. As trimmed and neat as they are, though, said nails drew long pink lines onto Lincoln’s back, from the underside of his buttocks to the top of his shoulders, on his flanks, on the back of his arms. Some of the marks were deep enough to let blood surge and stain the white Egyptian cotton sheets when Lincoln pulled off and lay near Michael’s temporarily satiated body. Michael’s dig-and-rake had happened because, even as Lincoln was taking him and rocking him good, Michael felt it still wasn’t enough: he wanted more and whipped Lincoln into giving it to him. He got more. Lincoln bent him in two, manhandling his hips high and pushing his knees in his face, and drove into him. Deep and unmercifully, until Michael’s brash demands turned into unarticulated moans that morphed into screams and then into almost-pleading sobs. Lincoln was rewarded with the maddening clenching of Michael’s body around his cock, a generous gush of semen between their bellies, and small crescent marks on his forearms.
He probably has faint bruises on the hidden and tender skin of his inner thighs and the cleft of his buttocks because Michael thought it would be a nice idea to rekindle him for a second round by licking and tonguing him there. He got carried away, obviously, and kissed, sucked and scrapped his teeth until Lincoln twisted beneath him and advised him to stop if he actually wanted that second round - Lincoln was this close to losing it and coming on the sheets, and he highly doubted this was what Michael was after. He could feel his brother’s mirth and an ultimate bite before Michael let him go. Lincoln won’t linger, but the slight discomfort he experiences this morning was so totally worth it.
He might have bitten Michael too. Just a little bit. It was hard to resist when his brother turned over onto his stomach and, watching him over his shoulder, offered himself, ass slightly pushed up and legs spread wide. Or when Michael ordered him to stop and lie on his back. Michael took him in and rode him, then, his eyes locked on Lincoln’s and his mouth agape in pleasure. First, Lincoln left a single, clear imprint of teeth on his shoulder blade; then he playfully nibbled the fingers Michael was thrusting in and out of Lincoln’s mouth in a simulation of a fellatio Lincoln was way too happy to provide. It was nothing compared with the unleashing of bites, scrapes and bruises Michael left all over him, though. In that respect, Lincoln’s nicer - most of the time.
Lincoln catches him as he gets out of the shower. He breathes in the clean scent of skin and soap, spins Michael around to face the mirror and presses his morning erection against the wet and firm buttocks. Michael looks at him through the mirror. His face and whole stance are hesitant, almost reluctant. Pointedly ignoring the less than enthusiastic reaction, Lincoln slightly bends him over the sink and positions him to his liking.
“I’m a bit sore...” Michael trails off at Lincoln’s dark smile. What’s about to happen is obvious and makes him swallow hard.
“Of course you’re a bit sore.”
It’s because he’s a bit sore that Lincoln is kind enough to use so much of the lube he grabs from the cabinet and to ease his way in slowly. And it’s because Lincoln is a bit sore and deserves retaliation that he thrusts in harsh and sharp jabs, pushing him rhythmically against the cold porcelain. Michael is awfully quiet. Holding onto the sink, his pupils dilated and black with lust, he visibly basks in Lincoln’s final comeback to his come-ons.
“Touch yourself,” Lincoln orders without changing his punitive rhythm. He closes his hand around Michael’s elegant fingers and forces him to jerk himself off. It doesn’t last for long. The combination of damp skin, flushed cheeks and neck, tight ass and busy hand gets to Lincoln hard and fast. Michael follows him within seconds, a broken groan betraying his pain-pleasure, come spurting messily on their joined hands.
As soon as Lincoln’s pulled out, Michael turns around in his arms and kisses him. Soft and tender, lazy, the frenzy of the night forgotten or worked out. That’s a different flavor of Michael that Lincoln plans to enjoy later. For now, when his brother tries to follow him in the shower, Lincoln plants a hand in the center of Michael’s chest to stop him and shakes his head.
“Nice try, but it’s not going to happen.”
There is saliva on Michael’s neck where Lincoln licked him seconds ago, semen slowly dripping out of his body, and a sheen of Lincoln’s sweat all over his back. Their morning encounter has been fast and swift, and the remaining traces are faint, only perceptible by Michael and perhaps Lincoln because he knows what to look for. It’s neat and just enough; perfect.
“You left your marks on me,” Lincoln says, extending an arm to test the temperature of the water. “You’ll keep mine until tonight. I’ll clean you myself. Fair enough, huh?”
Michael’s annoyed yet turned-on glance tells Lincoln that it is fair enough; and that he’ll be home early, probably with balm and baby oil and other stuff to make it up to his big brother. Lincoln smirks as he slips into the shower: if Michael wants to play, he’s always game.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.