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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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It was the middle of the night when he came to him, shaking him awake in bed.
"Scofield, let’s go. You and I got business to tend to."
Michael opened his eyes, half asleep.
"Huh?"
T-bag gave him a firm slap to the face.
"Move it, Pretty."
Alert now, his eyes darted to his sleeping brother. If Lincoln caught the convicted rapist in their room he’d clobber him.
"You’re brother sleeps like a bear, come on."
Reluctantly, Michael climbed out of bed. He slept in boxers and nothing else. T-bag took his bare shoulder and hurried him out of the room. He didn’t stop pushing until they’d reached the bathroom at the far end of the hall. There he shoved Michael inside before locking the door behind them.
"Strip."
Michael stared. This was really about to happen.
"We can’t do this now. Sucre will hear."
T-bag was also in his undies, no socks or shirt. His face exuded no patience. Just dark lust.
"Turn on the shower."
To drown out the noise, Michael knew. For a moment he hesitated.
"I’m sorry but did you forget a certain arrangement?" his nemesis cooed.
Michael swallowed, did as asked. The sound of the spray clouded their ears. He turned from the nozzle to find Bagwell raking him in with his lude gaze.
"Strip," he repeated.
Mike thought of Lincoln, of the trust he couldn’t lose and complied. He watched the Coosa County native bite his lip hungrily, no doubt his mind danced with dirty thoughts. He moved to Michael, let his finger tips trace the tattoo lines across the younger man’s chest before sucking on his teeth in anticipation.
"Get on your knees."
Michael kneeled down facing the swollen flesh protruding from Bagwell’s drawers. Knowing what was next, he took the waistband and pulled them south. T-bag’s prick bounced out proudly, demanding attention.
Michael needed no prompting. He remembered the instructions, to blow him like he blew his brother so he closed his eyes and pictured Lincoln. His large, muscular body, the girth of his package. Though, he had to admit Bagwell wasn’t exactly lacking in that area. Especially in his erect state.
But he wasn’t Lincoln.
Mike heard T-bag groan under his breath as he opened wide and took his whole cock. A rough hand rested on top of his head and began stroking his close cut hair.
"That’s it, Pretty. Take it all in."
He slid back out, allowing his spit to coat his wood before administering a few licks to the head. Then his mouth moved back in. Another groan from his nemesis. A tinge of salt landed on Mike’s tongue in the form of precum. A prelude of things to follow.
Just think about Linc. I’ll be fine.
But T-bag groaned again and his voice was nothing like Lincoln’s. His fingers kneaded Michael’s scalp and they felt nothing like Lincoln’s fingers. (Of course Linc was always too drugged out to even use his fingers but that wasn’t his fault now was it?)
He hated to admit it but T-bag was making it awfully hard to concentrate on the fantasy. Especially with the scalp massage. Those sensitive nerves purred under his well worn fingers. Michael involuntarily shivered.
"Oh you like that?"
When Bagwell talked dirty his voice dropped an octave. Smooth like Alabama honey.
"You like sucking this cock, Pretty?"
He moved his hips forward, ramming his cock into Mike’s tonsils. Michael groaned in response, causing vibrations to resonate through T-bag’s member. The sensation made him tense in pleasure. Bagwell threw his head skyward and cursed.
Michael hated him—truly hated the redneck but oddly he found this contact...dare he think it arousing? He’d always thought that it was just Lincoln’s cock he enjoyed in his mouth but as his tongue slashed between that slit at the head lapping up precum, Michael realized that it was also the feel of a hard prick, the taste of it, the reaction he got when he sucked it that he enjoyed.
The control.
Even as T-bag began thrusting faster into his throat, taking over the pace, Michael was still in control. It was his mouth that was shortening Bagwell’s breath, his lips that were causing him to lose it. That fact was exhilarating!
As T-bag literally fucked his face, Michael had to grab hold of the predator’s thighs to keep his balance. Bagwell’s pubic sweat permeated him, his balls slapping his chin as his movements grew harried.
"...fucking pretty lips..." T-bag was groaning.
"...so fucking beautiful..."
He was beginning to pant, his grip around Michael’s skull tightening. As his hair was too short to grab, T-bag substituted by grasping the back of his head. His thrusts went rampant, leaving no down time for Michael to breathe. After a minute with no air, Mike attempted to pull back and catch his breath but Bagwell held him in place.
His words became less coherent and more grunts. His hips hit a fever. He was hard fucking him now, his prick brutally beating Michael’s throat. Again Mike struggled but to no avail.
Suddenly images of his dead body, naked with a mouthful of cum charged him. Asphyxiation by cock. This was T-bag after all. He’d done much worse to the people he fucked. Sucre’s room was closer so maybe he’d find him. Oh God what if Lincoln found him?
Panicked at that thought, he began fighting harder, hitting Bagwell’s legs. The lack of oxygen was messing with his head. His sight was beginning to darken. Despite his effort T-bag was unmovable. He was entranced, in the grips of something stronger than the both of them. The struggle only increased it, the bastard was getting off on that for sure. Physical domination. Control. What rapists were made of.
Just when Michael was sure that he would pass out, T-bag gave an extra hard grunt and suddenly he was filling him. Straight down Mike’s throat burning hot semen cascaded. His muscles automatically swallowed, and he was forced to do so until the last of T-bag’s release. When Bagwell finally pulled out of his mouth, Michael fell on all fours, gasping in air.
"Sweet Jesus," T-bag breathed.
He slumped back on the wall, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. Michael glared over at him, still unable to speak. His sexual counterpart didn’t pay it any mind.
The both of them took the time to compose themselves, never taking their eyes off each other. For Michael it was wariness, but for T-bag it was desire.
"You know, Pretty, I rather like you in this position."
He rolled his tongue over his lips as he watched Michael’s bare ass.
"I think I’ll try it sometime."
Michael ignored the anxiety that statement produced. Just looking at the way he’d mouth-fucked him, how much more aggressive would he be on his ass? Especially given Michael’s inexperience in that area.
When he was able, Mike started to climb to his feet.
"Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?" T-bag spoke like he was scolding a mischievous child.
Michael looked at him deadpan.
"I need to brush my teeth and get back to bed."
Clean your stink off of me, he wanted to say but thought better of it. Bagwell might act out and he was not in the mood.
He watched T-bag come to his feet.
"We ain’t done here."
Instantly Mike’s stomach dropped. He didn’t allow it to show on his face.
"Theodore—"
T-bag waved off any response.
"You ain’t going nowhere, Pretty. Not til I’m done with you."
Michael felt the flutters of fear sparking up inside. Genuine fear of what T-bag had planned for him. He thought of Fox River and all of the men who’d been forced to hold onto his pocket and God knew what else. He thought about Seth, how the poor kid had hung himself rather than continue to be T-bag’s sex slave. What was he doing that was so much more horrible than simple rape?
T-bag was smiling as he opened the shower curtain and gestured for him to enter. Michael hesitated, fought to keep his lip from trembling. He was going to fuck him. God he was really going to fuck him. Images of blood spilling from his rectum gave Michael pause.
"I don’t think now is the right time," he stalled.
The smile dropped from T-bag’s face and that darkness was back.
"Get. In. Scofield."
If he didn’t he’d be bleeding out of more than his rectum. His steel mask on, Michael scooted past T-bag’s leering gaze and stepped into the shower. He wasn’t surprised when Bagwell joined him.
The men faced each other, Michael’s back to the warm water. T-bag looked him over before laying a hand on his chest, again tracing the tattoo.
"You know, back at Fox River when I would see you just strutting around in the showers I knew that one day I would fuck you in one."
He used the tips of his fingers over each line, drawing goosebumps on Michael’s skin. Whether they came from fear or something else remained to be seen.
"I imagined pinning you to the wall, smacking that tight ass of yours—" he reached around Michael to cup his backside and squeeze— “and fucking the living daylights out of you. I wasn’t the only one but a man with your looks would already know that."
His fingers circled a nipple and Michael flinched at the contact. T-bag noticed and did it again.
"How are you so goddamned beautiful, Scofield?" he thumbed the nipple, smiling at the shiver it caused before trailing his fingers south.
Michael quivered under his touch, he definitely hadn’t felt this kind of sensation in a long time. Again, Lincoln could never touch him back. And his last sex partner (ages ago) had been more of an escape. When Bagwell reached his ribcage, Michael breathed. When he reached his abdomen something stirred. As he was completely naked and in extremely close proximity, both men noticed when his cock twitched.
Embarrassment colored his face red. He was not getting hard for this redneck.
"I—"
T-bag smirked knowingly.
"No need to be shy. We’re just two men showering together."
He licked his lips. Michael looked away from that lustful gleam. He didn’t want to see the satisfaction in that bastard’s eyes as he made his body react. He didn’t want to watch him enjoy it. This wasn’t about T-bag, he reminded himself. This was a neglected body’s normal reaction to stimuli. Purely physiological. There was nothing about the creep before him that could ever illicit any response other than disgust.
A hand gripping his balls wrung an audible gasp from Michael’s throat. He had to grab the wall for support. T-bag groaned as he fondled them in his hand and Michael swelled to full attention. He toyed with him some more, maneuvering them in his fingers. Michael bit his lip and couldn’t help the moan that escaped him.
He glanced down at the hand teasing him, noted the hardening cock of his teaser as well. His eyes widened as he realized the ultimate plan.
"The blow-job," he managed breathily.
"You just...wanted to g-get off before...mmm!"
T-bag was watching him with that dark cloud again, one that promised sexual domination. Michael looked away, hoping to hide the paralyzing fear that brought.
He wasn’t just going to ass-fuck him. He was going to ass-fuck him long and hard. The blow-job had been to give him release so that the second time around he would last longer. Much like how guys jacked off before a big night with a girl. This would not be a three minute encounter.
Oh god.
Normally Michael was the king of masking emotion but in his compromised state he slipped up. T-bag noticed, and he could tell the Alabamian did because that gleam shined brighter. It fed his fire, the fear he stirred. Again, a true rapist at heart.
"Against the wall, Pretty."
While Michael complied, T-bag reached out of the shower to grab something. He could hear his impatience as he fiddled with the cap, squeezed something out. Then he palmed Michael’s ass before spreading the cheeks apart. Michael trembled just as a slick finger slipped in.
"Ow!"
It was new, it wasn’t gentle and it was terrifying to know what would enter next. Despite the discomfort, however, he didn’t feel anything tear. T-bag began moving the finger around and Michael could only stare down at his own erection. The finger became two and he could feel the anticipation killing the man behind him as he thrust his fingers hurriedly. Then the fingers withdrew and he felt T-bag’s prick at his entryway.
His body was shaking now, light enough that only one so close would notice. T-bag just happened to be that close.
"What’s the matter, Pretty? You scared of Uncle Teddy?"
Michael swallowed. Vulnerability was a liability.
"Let’s just get this over with," he bluffed, glad that Bagwell couldn’t see his face.
But T-bag didn’t jump in. He pressed himself closer, his hardness sliding up Michael’s buttocks.
"Wait a minute. You ain’t never...?"
His breath was on the back of Mike’s neck. The hot air tingled.
"What’s it matter?" Michael spat, his nerves on end.
"We have an arrangement right?"
It was T-bag’s turn to be the observant one. Sexual exploits were his domain after all.
"With what you done to your brother I’d assumed you must’ve at least had one man before but now I see. You’re a virgin."
There was an upkick to that last sentence that made Michael nervous. No, he was beyond nervous. He was scared shitless.
"To men anyway," T-bag added.
He slid his cock back down to Michael’s hole.
"Looks like I’m going to places no man has gone before."
He pressed the head forward and Michael clenched his jaw. Despite the lube he’d obviously applied, this was a virgin hole he was entering. It wasn’t just going to fall open. But T-bag knew this and pressed further, no doubt he had experience in that realm. Still, Michael couldn’t help the balled fists against the shower wall as he felt that cock easing deep into his ass. His panicked mind began to scream.
It’s too big. Stuff that big shouldn’t be in an ass.
"Lord that’s tight," T-bag breathed once he was all the way in.
Michael was stock still, not wanting to agitate the stretch he felt inside. It hurt in a new way, not overbearing but unfamiliar. He feared the pain could and would get worse once the motion began. It was time to find out.
Bagwell’s strokes started out slow and deep. This surprised Michael as he’d figured him for an out of control savage. But he was also an older man who’d been doing this for many years. He was bound to have some finesse.
He felt T-bag’s tongue on his back, tracing his tattoo teasingly. Michael’s skin perked with goosebumps. This wasn’t at all like he’d imagined. Pain, blood, humiliation. Contrarily the closeness, the tight, possessive grip on his hip, the tongue on his skin was actually pretty nice. He found himself beginning to relax into the moment.
Then T-bag’s prick hit something inside him that shocked his entire body with pleasure. Michael cried out before he could stop himself.
"Shh, you want to wake Sucre?" Bagwell taunted him, remembering his earlier concern.
But Sucre was the farthest thing from his mind. When he felt the same spot triggered again, Michael moaned into it. He’d never experienced anything like it before. But he needed more.
In the back of his mind he knew what this was called, what man hadn’t heard about the prostate, but his mind couldn’t wrap around it to give it a name. All he could do was react to it.
Again Bagwell struck it and Michael cursed out loud. He turned his face to the side, smashing his cheek against the wall as he voiced his pleasure.
"Fuck...oh...fuck!"
His arched against him, driving T-bag deeper inside. Michael closed his eyes, overwrought with the sensation. Behind him, Bagwell maintained his pace. Nice and slow. Long and deep. His lips met the skin on Michael’s back, peppering it with soft and wet kisses. Luring him further in. They went on like this, T-bag stroking him steadily. Michael falling deeper. Lulled into a sense of safety against him. He was wide open.
T-bag slid his hand from Michael’s hip to his front and seized his fully rigid prick. He used his hips to pin Michael’s waist flat against the wall. Instead of jerking him, he teased him with squeezes and fondling. Running his thumb over the tiny slit of his cock’s head, earning a heavy groan from the now writhing form beneath him.
How many times had he writhed under Bagwell today?
Michael was biting his lips, trying but failing to control his vocals. His body was moving, unused to feeling this type of good. He was completely at his mercy.
Just when he feared he was going to pop, T-bag pulled out and spun him around to face him. Michael’s back hit the wall hard but neither party cared. He stared at the older felon with heat in his gray eyes.
T-bag pinned him, lifting his leg before slamming his cock back inside. Michael cursed excitedly as he wrapped the leg around him. Like their grind session earlier, he squeezed Bagwell closer.
Because of the new angle there was more to play with. T-bag kissed Michael’s chest and began to suckle the wet skin. He was sure it would leave a mark but at that particular moment he didn’t give a shit.
Michael’s cock was pressed between them beyond rock hard at the skin-to-skin contact. With each stroke Bagwell’s belly connected with his. His good hand held Michael’s ass firmly.
"God...Teddy I’m—I’m—"
Teddy. Theodore. Names that Mike and Linc often used to antagonize him. But they were his real names, just as much as the prison moniker T-bag. And Teddy just burst through his lips. T-bag growled at the name and thrust harder. Faster. Even harder still. Michael gasped as his cock exploded, cum shooting up to his chest, his chin, T-bag’s lowered face against his pecs. His mouth had been wide open and a shot hit his lower lip. He didn’t notice, his body convulsing with the climax. His muscles sank after that and T-bag had to hold him up.
Still very much rearing to go, Bagwell fucked him hard, causing Michael to tremor with every thrust. Still reeling from his release, Mike cradled T-bag’s head to his chest, massaging his wet scalp under the stream. Bagwell grunted crudely, no longer finessing his young partner. Now he was at his primal. Reduced to the animal within.
He came harder than anticipated, burying his exclamation in Michael’s chest as he groaned way too loudly. Their bodies shook together, both utterly blown by the reality of what they’d just done. They’d come a long way from the bleachers at Fox River.
"You came on my face," T-bag managed through shallow breaths.
He was still inside him, still pressed against him possessively.
Michael swallowed, his faculties not all regained. He knew that he should move, separate from the man inside him but...he’d never come so hard in all his life. Never lost control, never enjoyed sex as much as he had this night. He wanted to revel in that.
"Sorry?"
What could he say? He hadn’t made himself cum. T-bag looked up at him then and their lips were suddenly locked. The kiss was fire, one of yearning and ownership all in one. He could feel it, Bagwell was claiming him in some way. That made him nervous and Michael was the one to break the kiss. They stared at each other a good minute.
"I’d better get back to my room," Michael said quietly.
T-bag made no move to disengage. He licked his lips, absently collecting the drop of Michael’s cum that had transferred during the kiss.
"You go back when I say you can go back."
But his threat didn’t feel malicious this time. Michael just stared at him. After a moment, he slid his half hard cock from Michael’s ass, dropping his leg back to the shower floor.
"Wash up. Then get out of here."
He did as instructed, aware of T-bag’s eyes on him the entire time. Once he was finished he stepped out the shower and toweled off. He found his boxers and pulled them on, noticing a soreness in his anus as he bent over. He grimaced but kept it moving. As he exited the bathroom door T-bag called to him.
"Scofield."
He paused to look back.
"That ass is mine now. Don’t you go giving it to nobody else, ya hear?"
Like who? There were only two other men around and they were totally off the table. Michael started to make a retort when the statement truly hit him. T-bag didn’t mean Lincoln or Sucre. He meant anyone. Ever.
"Theodore—" he began.
"Nobody. Else."
His dark eyes held a threat that, despite all that he’d put Michael through over the past year, sent a real tremor of terror through his soul. Not even Lincoln could help him out of this one. Of course he hid that fear, vulnerability and all.
Instead he nodded, his face expressionless. But T-bag wasn’t fooled. He motioned for Michael to leave, his eyes still threatening as the door closed before him.
Michael gulped, hurrying back to his room almost in a run. There he locked the door, pressed his back to it and finally released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His chest heaved, a combination of apprehension, excitement and fear inside. From what he’d done, what he’d felt doing it and knowing that there was no way that T-bag would allow him to stop. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.
Of course he should stop. It was T-bag for Christ’s sake. The man was deplorable, reprehensible, blood-thirsty and cruel. He was the literal embodiment of everything Michael stood against.
He’d done horrible things.
But the things he’d done to Michael’s body...
A noise from the bed caught Michael’s attention. Lincoln, coughing in his sleep. His heart immediately melted at the sight of his brother. Linc was on his back, taking up more than half the bed as usual. He walked over, slid in beside him and nestled up close. His apprehension dissipated instantly. Michael rested his head on his hard chest, allowed a leg to drape over him as he hugged him close.
Whatever happened, whatever mess he’d gotten himself into, he knew that as long as he had Lincoln he’d be able to pull through. Mike would figure it out for the both of them.

T-bag finished his shower, dried quickly and went straight to bed. He ignored Sucre’s still form, obviously pretending to be asleep. He wasn’t snoring lightly like he usually did. Under the cover he closed his eyes and remembered Michael. He’d wanted to ravage him. To split that pretty ass in half and laugh at his pain but gazing upon that beautiful body up close and personal another thought had come to him. Rather than make him hurt for a brief period why not make him his for the long term?
Scofield was a virgin, untouched, untainted by any other man. That made him vulnerable. Susceptible to the lucky bastard that happened to be first to poke him. If he made Pretty like it, he’d be begging to do it again...and again and again. Based on his reaction tonight, it was safe to assume that he’d liked it. A few more fucks and College Boy would be completely turned out. He’d be begging for it. He’d be his. That thought alone brought him contentment. T-bag fell asleep with a smile on his face, literally one fuck closer to owning the elusive Michael Scofield.
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Brother's Comfort