My first Lincoln/Michael fanfic.
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Prison Break…don't sue me.
A/N: I am against real life incest, probably because my brother is gross, but also believe that you can't help whom you love. (I hate the word "whom".) I am a large supporter of gay rights, as well.
So, if you don't like the idea or act of incest/homosexuality, then don't read, and certainly don't complain…
Please read and review, I love getting feedback, even if it's to tell me that I suck…
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The first time Lincoln had seen Michael behind the bars of Fox River, his heart had plummeted. Then when Michael had told him he could break him out, he felt the tiniest flicker of hope. When Michael had shown him the floor plans, and other such parts of his upper torso, Lincoln had felt proud, and also ashamed. For he had been looking at his brother, not only in desperation, but also hunger. A desire to see his brother without the ink covering with toned body.
He must have been locked up too long, because never before would he have thought about his brother in such an animalistic way. There had always been a special, almost strange bond between the two brothers, Lincoln had always felt it, but had just figured it was because they had always been all each other had. But after being left alone for so long, left to his own thoughts and musings, he'd been imagining things he'd never dreamed possible before.
Michael's hands, Michael's mouth, Michael pinning him against the wall of his cell, taking him by force, Michael subduing to his will, ravaging each others' bodies while the guards went to get coffee.
But his most frequent dreams had been different. They had taken place outside of the walls of Fox River. He was dreaming of after the escape, when they were finally free of the looming execution, and could just be together.
In these dreams, their lovemaking wasn't just sexual. It was tender, sweet, sometimes a simple stroll through the park, holding onto each other, laughing, and being normal.
Well, as normal as two brothers fucking could be.
Lincoln enjoyed these dreams the most, although sometimes worried that he either talked or moaned in his sleep. But he knew that the guards assumed he was dreaming about a woman, they didn't treat him any different.
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Finally, the day came. They were escaping. Michael had to remind himself to breath all day. The minutes moved slower, every drop of sweat that fell from his head felt like a hot shower. Every gaze from a guard felt like a stare. Every time that Michael looked at him, he felt his eyes burn holes into his chest. He didn't know if he would be able to control himself once they were outside of these walls, and if that happened, his brother would never be able to look at him again, and this would all have been for nothing.
Sara had done it; she had left the door open for them. They were really getting out of there. He was the first to go, though he thought that Michael should have been, seeing as this whole thing could not have happened without him, but across he went, and was soon followed by everyone except Charles and Sucre's cousin. They made it out, they escaped, and then he and Michael went their separate way from the rest of the inmates.
Now it was two weeks later, in some abandoned hotel that he and Michael had claimed for their own. Several of the rooms were still in relative working order, but Michael had insisted that they room together, incase the worst should happen, and they wouldn't have to waste time finding each other.
Lincoln tried counting sheep, he tried singing in his head, he tried saying the word "incest" over and over in his head, but nothing worked. Michael was moving in slow motion to him, and every moment spurred him on.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He would do whatever it took to patch things up with Michael in the end, but now, he needed to taste him.
It was a few seconds before Michael realized what had happened, and by then, Lincoln had grabbed him out of his chair and threw them both onto the bed, and his tongue was inside Michael's slack mouth.
Then the most miraculous thing happened. Michael kissed him back, grabbing fistfuls of his brother's shirt to pull him closer to him, ignoring Lincoln's weight, locking legs with him.
Lincoln pulled back, his breathing heavy, and stared into the calm yet hungry eyes of his brother, and the simple nod of assurance was all he needed.
Nodding his own head, Lincoln's mouth descended on Michael's once again, and not for the last time.
The End … for now.