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Brother's Comfort	By : Kayerfire Category: M through R > Prison Break Views: 1867 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break or any of the characters nor do I profit in any way, shape or form. I do not condone rape, incest or any of that stuff. It's just a fanfic.

Chapter List
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Lincoln was in a significantly better mood the next morning. Despite their situation, and LJ’s dilemma, he was more calm, stable, relaxed. Michael and Sucre were playing cards at the ratty table in the living room when he rose from his slumber.
"Morning," he murmured on his way to the kitchen.
Sucre was visibly shocked that he’d even spoken but Michael continued to shuffle.
"Morning," he called back.
His Puerto Rican friend stared.
"What got into him? He’s actually being...nice?"
Michael chuckled.
"I told you I’d handle it. We had a good talk last night. He should be fine now."
"Ai Papi you truly are a miracle worker."
"What can I say, he’s my brother. I know how to deal with him."
Behind him a loud clearing of the throat. Michael already knew who it was before he spoke.
"Yes, you do know how to handle your brother."
There was an air of sleaze to his tone. Sucre didn’t notice but Mike picked it up. T-bag sat down at the table, directly beside him.
"Deal me in."
Michael didn’t bother to look at him.
"What took you so long with the list last night, Theodore?"
T-bag’s eyes were on him.
"I told you, had to be extra careful on account of busy eyes."
Lincoln came from the kitchen then with a fat sandwich. Michael could see that it was loaded with extra ham and other condiments. He fought his smirk at the predictability of his brother. Yep, he’d never change.
"That’s some sandwich you got there," T-bag commented.
"A real mouthful, wouldn’t you say, Scofield?"
Michael didn’t acknowledge him. There was something about the way he was speaking this morning that was dubious. Like he was hinting at something.
"Yea, bread and lunch meat was on the list," Sucre reminded him.
Lincoln started to pass the table when Mike pat the remaining seat. If T-bag was acting weird he’d need to be reminded of exactly who he was crossing. Regardless of his mood, Linc’s presence alone served as an excellent enforcer.
T-bag watched as he sat and bit hungrily into his sandwich.
"Sleep well Sink?"
Lincoln shrugged, his mouth chewing.
"I’m glad to see you’re feeling better."
Michael glanced his way, his bullshit meter ticking. T-bag was awfully talkative this morning.
"Must’ve had a good night, huh?"
Linc didn’t catch on, because well how could he but Mike had the sinking feeling that T-bag knew something he shouldn’t.
"You know what’ll make a good morning?" Linc remarked between bites, "If you shut the hell up talking to me like we’re friends or something."
Sucre smiled at that and Michael had to admit he loved Linc for it.
T-bag sighed theatrically.
"Well my bad there, Sink. Thinking we could be friendly. I guess we could never be as friendly as you and your brother though."
That confirmed it. The backwoods boy definitely knew something. Michael kept his face neutral as he knew T-bag was looking to rattle them up. How utterly stupid of him to antagonize Lincoln first thing in the morning though. Especially after everything they’d just been through in the past few weeks. Did he not remember the time-bomb they’d witnessed just yesterday?
"He’s my brother dipshit."
Linc wasn’t mad. Yet. But he wasn’t known for a calm temperament.
"And a very giving brother he is. Why I knew somebody that had a brother like yours once."
Michael didn’t like the way T-bag was smirking as he spoke.
Even Sucre began to sense that something was going on. He looked up from his cards at the Alabama native.
"Aye, we’re trying to play cards. You want to play Chatty Kathy go do it elsewhere."
Bagwell sent him a level glance. His shifty eyes roamed from Sucre to Lincoln then rested on Michael. He didn’t say anything but his demeanor said that he knew a secret.
"Fine, I think I’ll hit the shower," he announced, rising from his chair.
Sucre went back to his cards.
"Yea, well you just stay away from my stuff while you’re in there. I saw my shirt you nasty son of a bitch. You owe me a new one."
T-bag only grinned and left them, his stride too cocky for Michael’s liking. He knew. Goddammit he knew.
"What’d he do to your shirt?" Linc asked with his mouth full.
"Horny bastard used it as a cum towel last night."
"Gross."
"I’ll say. Probably thinking about some 13 year old or something. Sick puto."
Michael had a pretty good idea what he’d been jerking to. There was no other explanation for it. His sudden insinuations of indecent things between he and Linc? How else could he know? He must have been there last night. It explained why he’d been so late getting back with his half of the supply list.
"I have to take a leak."
He left the table straight for T-bag and Sucre’s room. There he found the older man undressing. Michael shut the door behind him, and glowered as T-bag removed his pants.
"Alright, you’ve had something you wanted to say all morning. Say it."
T-bag raised his eyebrows feigning innocence.
"Why Scofield I have no idea what you’re talking about."
Mike had neither the time nor the patience for this game.
"Theodore," he warned.
T-bag looked at him, amusement on his face.
"You think you’re so much better than me don’t you? With your fancy degree and you’re holier than thou morality. What is it really that separates us though, Scofield?"
"You rape and murder people and have no regard for human life," Michael answered coolly.
T-bag smiled triumphantly.
"Yea and you rape your own brother."
Before he could stop himself, Michael charged him, pinning him against the wall in a rage. To accuse him of something so acrid. So Bagwellish.
"You better watch what you say Theodore."
T-bag’s smile grew.
"What’s wrong, Pretty? Don’t like it when the truth hits ya?"
Michael wanted to shove his face through the wall.
"I wasn’t sure until this morning when I talked to Lincoln. I threw every hint at him and he didn’t even flinch. Nothing whatsoever. Now I know you’re good at that pokerface thing but everybody knows about your brother’s temper. If I of all people were to catch him in such a compromising position he’d do more than insult me over a ham sandwich."
Which explained why he’d deliberately antagonized Lincoln. He’d been testing him. Mike had to give T-bag credit, he’d completely underestimated him.
"You forget I know a thing or two about non-consensual coitus," The Alabamian continued.
"And last night you’re brother was basically a zombie. The man couldn’t even dress himself. At first I figured that might be your kink—I don’t judge those matters—but this morning he doesn’t seem to recollect any of it. It’s like it never happened."
Because it didn’t, it never could for Linc’s sake.
"What exactly did you see?" Mike needed to know.
T-bag glanced down at Michael’s body against his, then back at his face.
Despite his humor there was a veiled threat in his brown eyes. Theodore Bagwell, the murderer and prison gang leader was very much still alive. Michael took the hint and wisely took a step back.
"What did you see?" he repeated.
T-bag straightened his posture.
"I saw everything," he gleamed.
"You were sucking his cock like a rughead with a chicken bone. And Sink was crowing like a rooster."
Just the memory seemed to trigger something in his eye.
"You knew his body. You knew where to touch and how long to touch it. Like you’ve done this before, Pretty. Tell me. How many times have you mouth-raped your brother?"
T-bag took a step closer to him.
"How many times have you swallowed his soldiers, absorbed them into your body? You know, you are what you eat. How much of Michael Scofield is Lincoln Burrow’s jizz?"
He was sullying the act, making it into something lascivious.
"It’s not like that!" Michael hissed, defensive of what he and Linc shared.
"What I do for my brother is out of love not thrills. It’s a selfless act for his wellbeing. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?"
"I know a thing or two about sucking cock and it ain’t never been selfless. You enjoy it, Scofield. Last night you got off just as much as he did. Even more I bet."
"I don’t have to listen to this."
Michael turned to leave, flustered. He never got flustered.
"You like the control," T-bag drawled, causing Mike to pause and face him again.
"The sense of ownership of his body. He’s your big brother. He’s always been bigger than you, stronger than you. You may be smarter but he can still beat your ass with no problem. But when you have him down in that bed it’s you that’s got all the power. He submits to you, all 260 pounds of muscle is weak to your touch. Simpering, mewling, begging for your lips. For you."
T-bag’s eyes had clouded over. He licked his lips and came even closer. Michael took another step back, his mind not quite ready to deal with this revelation. Normally he didn’t count T-bag’s opinion for shit but there was something in the way he mentioned control that disturbed Michael deeply. It disturbed him because...he recognized the feeling. All the way back to the first time.
When T-bag pressed against him, Michael inched away to fall backward onto the full-sized bed. The Alabamian pounced, throwing his body on top of his. Before Michael could object T-bag was grinding against him, his tool solid and hard.
"Shh, Pretty just let me do this."
But Mike had no intention of allowing that. He started to push him off when those dreaded words came to him.
"You want to keep your brotherly liaison between us you’ll sit the fuck back."
He froze. Thought of Lincoln. How he could never know.
"Yea, that’s more like it."
Bagwell slid a hand into Michael’s pants and squeezed him.
"Take it out. I want to see."
Michael glared at him.
"Now, Pretty."
Hating himself for not seeing this coming, he complied. T-bag immediately took hold of it and began to stroke. Michael gasped, it had been a very long time since anyone had touched him there. He fought the sensation but grew hard rather quickly. T-bag was still in his boxers, but his rigid cock stood out against the material. He continued to grind it into Michael’s warm body.
"Kiss me like you kiss your brother."
His voice was shaky with arousal but an order nonetheless. Seeing no alternative, Michael let his lips brush T-bag’s and they locked into a kiss. It wasn’t tender, Bagwell made sure of that. He nipped with his teeth before going straight French, forcing his tongue into Michael’s mouth. His experienced hand didn’t stop stroking until Mike sported a matching erection.
"Take my cock out."
A jolt of fear shot through Michael at the instruction. Scenarios of being ass-raped by the sexual predator of Coosa County played out in his mind. Was that what this would be? His ass for T-bag’s silence? Fighting the tremble in his hand he freed T-bag’s brick hard meat, earning a quiet moan from the man. That was when things sped up.
T-bag took his mouth again and began grinding his bare erection against Michael’s. As their cocks rubbed together, pressure mounted in Michael’s groin and he couldn’t help but to moan. It was stifled by T-bag’s mouth on his. He kissed him back, hating that his own hips were responding to the gyrations. His own breathing was quickening. His own prick was leaking precum between their bellies.
He hadn’t had sex in over a year. What with the planning and implementation of the Fox River escape he hadn’t had time for anyone. He could be fanatical that way. Then in the prison and after the run, all of the stress he’d been under...His body had literally been starved sexually. Now of all people it was T-bag who offered him the break in fast. How ironic.
Be that as it was, Michael felt himself losing the battle between body and mind. His pelvis began to rock faster. Harder. His movements caught Bagwell by surprise.
"Slow down, Pretty," he whispered huskily.
But Michael couldn’t. He was chasing a wave now, a wave of gratification that he’d denied himself for far too long. He responded by pulling T-bag closer to him, and grinding even faster against him.
"Oh shit," Bagwell breathed.
Both men lost themselves then, kissing and grinding and panting until Michael came first. His hips went into spasms, jerking hard against the male body above him. Spilling his seed all over the both of them. His frenzy was enough to drive T-bag over and soon he was shooting his fluid between them, mingling it with Michael’s. He groaned into Michael’s mouth, his lips hot and slick. It took them a few minutes to collect themselves.
"Goddamn you are something else Scofield."
Michael didn’t look at him, a heavy sense of shame shrouding him suddenly. How had he come to this? To be in bed writhing under T-bag?! Gang leader, rapist extraordinaire. Murderer of teens.
"I have to go."
He shoved T-bag off of him and sat up. When he did he noticed the mess on his shirt. Cum covered it, inside and out. Bewildered, he pulled it over his head and wiped himself down. He was aware of Bagwell watching him as he tucked his prick back into his pants.
"Don’t."
He knew the Alabama shit talker had something to say. He always did.
"I didn’t—"
"Just don’t."
Michael fought the urge to scream, to flee from the presence of the man with whom he’d just debased himself. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands and weep at the events his own negligence had allowed to transpire. His own underestimation of a formidable enemy. But he couldn’t show weakness. Vulnerability was a liability.
Fixing his face to the unreadable mask he’d perfected over the years, Michael faced T-bag.
"What are your terms?"
Bagwell was wiping himself off with his own discarded shirt. Michael tried not to notice the massive amount of semen. It had been a very long dry spell.
"Pardon?"
Michael didn’t blink.
"Your terms. You have information that I don’t want to get out. What will it take for us to reach an understanding?"
T-bag didn’t hesitate with his answer.
"I want to fuck you."
Michael quelled his reaction.
"Is that it? Fuck me one time?"
He didn’t want to but he needed to put this matter to bed. There was no way he could ever allow Lincoln to know.
"I want you to blow me like you blow your brother," T-bag specified, his southern swagger in every syllable.
"All enthusiastic and worshipping. Then I get to fuck you however I like."
Michael nodded his acceptance.
"Fair enough."
"For the duration of our stay here," Bagwell added.
Michael nearly clenched his jaw but caught himself. No reaction.
"We could be here for a month."
"So."
T-bag licked his lips. God this was going to bite him in the ass.
"Once a week," Michael negotiated.
"Once a day," T-bag countered.
Now that was just unreasonable.
"Once a week fucking. Twice a week blow job."
"Once a day fucking, twice a day--"
Michael sighed, exasperated.
"Look, Theodore I don’t have much time. Sucre and my brother are probably wondering why I’m not back yet and I want to square things with you before I leave this room."
"So let’s try to come up with something realistic, shall we? You know damn well once a day is impossible in this small space. Once a week we can pull off without drawing suspicion. Now again, what’s your terms?"
T-bag gave him a look, one that promised he’d regret using that tone.
"You want my terms? Here goes."
The Fox River gang leader was back.
"We fuck when I say we fuck. You blow me when I say you blow me and I keep your little secret, Pretty. You don’t worry about the location, we’ll figure something out but as long as we’re here together your ass belongs to me."
He stood, grabbed a towel.
"Now you take care to watch the way you speak to me, boy lest I add another stipulation to our arrangement."
He leaned in close and gave Michael a peck on the lips before leaving for the shower. Mike blinked, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand before darting from the room, retreating to the one he and Lincoln shared. There he stripped off the clothes that had touched T-bag’s skin and changed into a completely different outfit before crashing in the corner.
But he felt no better.
Because he couldn’t shake the words that Bagwell had said about controlling Linc’s body and owning him. He’d spoken with such clarity, such understanding.
Tell me. How many times have you mouth-raped your brother.
Rape. Was that what he’d been doing to Lincoln all these years? He’d only wanted to help him and it worked so well. It was exactly what he needed to bring him back from the brink. Even this morning he was much better, eating and playing cards. Mike had helped his big brother. He always had.
But what about those feelings of pride when he made Lincoln scream? When Lincoln trembled beneath him in orgasm? The truth was, he did like that. He did like being the one to make it happen. He did like owning his brother’s pleasure. He did like the control.
"Oh my god."
He had a lot more in common with his predatory "ally" than he’d thought. The revelation threw Michael’s mind into a tailspin and this time he did bury his face in his hands. With no one to witness his vulnerability, he finally let lose and wept.
He was still crying when he heard familiar footfalls.
"Michael?"
Linc shut the door behind him and was immediately at his side.
"Michael, what’s wrong?"
Mike didn’t look up at him, couldn’t bear the guilt.
"I’m so sorry, Linc. I just love you so much. I couldn’t let you suffer."
His brother met him on the floor and pulled him into his arms, holding him like when they were kids.
"Hey, It’s alright. I’m here. It’s going to be okay."
Michael saw T-bag’s face, that creepy leer.
"It’s not Linc. I fucked up. I fucked it all up and now we’re stuck here and it’s just...fucked!"
Lincoln began to rock him, much like that first night when their mom had died. He rested his cheek on the top of Michael’s head and sighed.
"No Mike, you didn’t fuck anything up. You saved me. You saved my life, my sanity. When I was in the hole those last days do you know what kept me going? You did. My faith in you. In knowing that whatever happened, I could always count on my baby brother."
Michael kept his face buried in Linc’s chest, the solid muscle warm and comforting. In his big brother’s arms he felt safe, protected. He could stay in those arms for the rest of his life.
In the recesses of his mind he was aware that he and Lincoln were talking about 2 different things. Linc was talking about Fox River, the escape and the current hiccup in the plan. Michael closed his eyes against his brother and let the tears continue.
Okay, maybe it was wrong what he was doing to Lincoln but at the end of the day it did help keep Linc safe. From himself anyway. If Mike had to break a few moral codes then that was worth it. There was no price too steep when it came to saving his brother.
We fuck when I say we fuck. You blow me when I say you blow me and I keep your little secret, Pretty.
He remembered T-bag’s menacing eyes as he’d backed him onto the bed.
...as long as we're here together your ass belongs to me.
He pressed himself closer to Lincoln until he could feel the beating of his heart and loved him with all his soul as he continued to cry.
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Brother's Comfort