FIC: Leaving You (Because Staying Feels Too Right), PG-13
Title: Leaving You (Because Staying Feels Too Right)
Character/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows; Lincoln/LJ, Michael/Lincoln hints
Genre: Slash, post-escape
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1018
Summary: Fathers are supposed to love their sons, but not like this.
Author’s Notes: I’m goin’ to hell. miss_mandy wanted some Lincoln/LJ. Here ya go :)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Incest. Slash. Angst.
Beta: serpentcoils
He thinks he should leave, but he hasn’t and he’s not entirely sure why.
LJ’s arms are wrapped around his chest and he wants to push them away, wants to get out of this room and pretend this never happened - but he can’t, or maybe his body just won’t, won’t let him leave his son (Not again. Can’t leave him again.) because he’s already been away from him for so long and so much and he can’t stand the thought of ever being away from him again.
But it makes him sick, lying here and feeling LJ’s naked body pressed up against him, feeling LJ’s hair tickle across his chest every time his slow, even breathing through his nose and mouth blows the long strands out of his face as he sleeps.
His hand slides up LJ’s back and burrows into his hair, his fingers threading through the silky strands and suddenly there’s bile rising in his throat as he remembers, remembers when LJ was three, four years old, running into his room, jumping into his bed and curling up beside him, crying and clutching at his arms and chest, seeking comfort -
He swallows the bitter acid and grimaces, realizing he’s caught in a nightmare worse than anything LJ could have ever dreamt up when he was little.
It’s sick and it’s wrong and he hates the fact that deep down he wanted this, that he wouldn’t have been able to push LJ away even if he’d wanted to.
Fathers are supposed to love their sons, but not like this, never like this and especially not when the family’s as fucked up as it is -
Don’t think about it, he scolds himself and steels away from the thought until he’ll be forced to come to grips with the truth again, when he finally decides to get up and leave and face Michael -
He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, thinking distractedly that maybe, maybe this is just a dream - a sick, twisted nightmare because his subconscious never really has liked him all that much -
LJ shifts above him, a leg slipping between his own and a calloused foot pushing against his shin gently with toenails digging into his skin -
And it’s then that he remembers what Michael told him once: “Dreams are just a showcase of our inner desires.”
He nudges LJ off him and sits up, turns and swings his legs over the side of the bed. LJ rolls onto his back, eyes opening groggily, arms stretching out in opposite directions, searching for the warmth of his father, the comforting embrace and the feeling of being wanted, needed, of being an integral part of someone’s life -
“Dad . . . ?” LJ pulls himself up onto an elbow and stares, brushing hair out of his face to see more clearly. “What’s wrong, Dad?” He reaches a hand out and places it against Lincoln’s back and winces when his father tenses against his touch.
Lincoln shakes his head and leans down, grabbing a blanket from it’s resting place on the floor and tossing it over LJ ashamedly, even though he knows that at this point, seeing his son naked should be the least of his worries.
He shifts and pushes LJ back, covering him with the blanket and holding him down as he resists.
“Dad - stop - please - ”
“It’s all wrong,” Lincoln states, glaring at LJ with tear-filled eyes and pressing down roughly into his shoulders with the heels of his hands, his fingers digging into the pillow behind LJ’s head. “It’s all fucked up and it’s my fault, LJ.”
LJ squeezes his eyes shut and quietly says, “No, no, Dad. It’s mine - I shouldn’t have - I knew that it . . . I’m sorr - ”
“Don’t!” Lincoln leans down and nuzzles his mouth against LJ’s neck, kissing it gently before pulling away angrily and sliding off the bed.
He rests his head against the mattress and presses his feet into the wall, not sure what to do -
He hears LJ slip across the sheets, feels his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them, trying to reassure.
“Dad,” he murmurs and the fingers of a hand trail across Lincoln’s neck, shoulders and down his back, “I know it’s wrong . . . we both do . . .”
“This is . . . it isn’t right, LJ.” Lincoln lifts his hands to his face and presses his palms into his forehead.
He’s reminded of Michael by this simple gesture of frustration, and he remembers his little brother always kneading the heels of his hands into his eyes after -
He stops himself short of remembering that and knowing exactly why Michael gave up so much to get him out -
“Dad . . .” Tears drip down Lincoln’s back as LJ pleads, “Dad, please.”
Lincoln runs a hand back through his hair and LJ quickly grasps it.
“Please,” LJ leans farther forward and off the bed, an elbow pushing against Lincoln’s shoulder for support as he whispers into his ear, “I want more. I want you . . .”
Lincoln shakes his head. “No, LJ. . . . It’s . . . we can’t continue with this.”
LJ breathes in the smell of sweat on Lincoln’s shoulders and drapes his arms over them, reaching his hands down and caressing Lincoln’s stomach with his fingers. “I don’t care, Dad. I love you. I . . . I want to be with you.”
Lincoln takes a breath and shudders as LJ’s mouth moves across his skin, planting wet kisses here and there along his neck and shoulder -
He feels himself getting hard and he’s sickened - by his actions and LJ’s and Michael’s and -
He doesn’t mean to, at least not so roughly, but he grabs LJ’s arms and shoves them away before standing and walking to the door, reaching for his boxers nearby as he makes his way.
“We can’t do this again . . . shouldn’t have done it in the first place . . .”
LJ shuffles up behind him, blanket draped over his body with the ends trailing like an oversized cape, and he wraps his arms possessively around Lincoln’s stomach. He buries his head into Lincoln’s back and murmurs, “I’m sorry, too, Dad.”
Lincoln pulls away and leaves.
Character/Pairing: Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows; Lincoln/LJ, Michael/Lincoln hints
Genre: Slash, post-escape
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1018
Summary: Fathers are supposed to love their sons, but not like this.
Author’s Notes: I’m goin’ to hell. miss_mandy wanted some Lincoln/LJ. Here ya go :)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Incest. Slash. Angst.
Beta: serpentcoils
He thinks he should leave, but he hasn’t and he’s not entirely sure why.
LJ’s arms are wrapped around his chest and he wants to push them away, wants to get out of this room and pretend this never happened - but he can’t, or maybe his body just won’t, won’t let him leave his son (Not again. Can’t leave him again.) because he’s already been away from him for so long and so much and he can’t stand the thought of ever being away from him again.
But it makes him sick, lying here and feeling LJ’s naked body pressed up against him, feeling LJ’s hair tickle across his chest every time his slow, even breathing through his nose and mouth blows the long strands out of his face as he sleeps.
His hand slides up LJ’s back and burrows into his hair, his fingers threading through the silky strands and suddenly there’s bile rising in his throat as he remembers, remembers when LJ was three, four years old, running into his room, jumping into his bed and curling up beside him, crying and clutching at his arms and chest, seeking comfort -
He swallows the bitter acid and grimaces, realizing he’s caught in a nightmare worse than anything LJ could have ever dreamt up when he was little.
It’s sick and it’s wrong and he hates the fact that deep down he wanted this, that he wouldn’t have been able to push LJ away even if he’d wanted to.
Fathers are supposed to love their sons, but not like this, never like this and especially not when the family’s as fucked up as it is -
Don’t think about it, he scolds himself and steels away from the thought until he’ll be forced to come to grips with the truth again, when he finally decides to get up and leave and face Michael -
He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath, thinking distractedly that maybe, maybe this is just a dream - a sick, twisted nightmare because his subconscious never really has liked him all that much -
LJ shifts above him, a leg slipping between his own and a calloused foot pushing against his shin gently with toenails digging into his skin -
And it’s then that he remembers what Michael told him once: “Dreams are just a showcase of our inner desires.”
He nudges LJ off him and sits up, turns and swings his legs over the side of the bed. LJ rolls onto his back, eyes opening groggily, arms stretching out in opposite directions, searching for the warmth of his father, the comforting embrace and the feeling of being wanted, needed, of being an integral part of someone’s life -
“Dad . . . ?” LJ pulls himself up onto an elbow and stares, brushing hair out of his face to see more clearly. “What’s wrong, Dad?” He reaches a hand out and places it against Lincoln’s back and winces when his father tenses against his touch.
Lincoln shakes his head and leans down, grabbing a blanket from it’s resting place on the floor and tossing it over LJ ashamedly, even though he knows that at this point, seeing his son naked should be the least of his worries.
He shifts and pushes LJ back, covering him with the blanket and holding him down as he resists.
“Dad - stop - please - ”
“It’s all wrong,” Lincoln states, glaring at LJ with tear-filled eyes and pressing down roughly into his shoulders with the heels of his hands, his fingers digging into the pillow behind LJ’s head. “It’s all fucked up and it’s my fault, LJ.”
LJ squeezes his eyes shut and quietly says, “No, no, Dad. It’s mine - I shouldn’t have - I knew that it . . . I’m sorr - ”
“Don’t!” Lincoln leans down and nuzzles his mouth against LJ’s neck, kissing it gently before pulling away angrily and sliding off the bed.
He rests his head against the mattress and presses his feet into the wall, not sure what to do -
He hears LJ slip across the sheets, feels his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them, trying to reassure.
“Dad,” he murmurs and the fingers of a hand trail across Lincoln’s neck, shoulders and down his back, “I know it’s wrong . . . we both do . . .”
“This is . . . it isn’t right, LJ.” Lincoln lifts his hands to his face and presses his palms into his forehead.
He’s reminded of Michael by this simple gesture of frustration, and he remembers his little brother always kneading the heels of his hands into his eyes after -
He stops himself short of remembering that and knowing exactly why Michael gave up so much to get him out -
“Dad . . .” Tears drip down Lincoln’s back as LJ pleads, “Dad, please.”
Lincoln runs a hand back through his hair and LJ quickly grasps it.
“Please,” LJ leans farther forward and off the bed, an elbow pushing against Lincoln’s shoulder for support as he whispers into his ear, “I want more. I want you . . .”
Lincoln shakes his head. “No, LJ. . . . It’s . . . we can’t continue with this.”
LJ breathes in the smell of sweat on Lincoln’s shoulders and drapes his arms over them, reaching his hands down and caressing Lincoln’s stomach with his fingers. “I don’t care, Dad. I love you. I . . . I want to be with you.”
Lincoln takes a breath and shudders as LJ’s mouth moves across his skin, planting wet kisses here and there along his neck and shoulder -
He feels himself getting hard and he’s sickened - by his actions and LJ’s and Michael’s and -
He doesn’t mean to, at least not so roughly, but he grabs LJ’s arms and shoves them away before standing and walking to the door, reaching for his boxers nearby as he makes his way.
“We can’t do this again . . . shouldn’t have done it in the first place . . .”
LJ shuffles up behind him, blanket draped over his body with the ends trailing like an oversized cape, and he wraps his arms possessively around Lincoln’s stomach. He buries his head into Lincoln’s back and murmurs, “I’m sorry, too, Dad.”
Lincoln pulls away and leaves.