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Brother's Comfort	By : Kayerfire Category: M through R > Prison Break Views: 1865 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Michael’s cock was so hard he thought it would rip through his pants. From the moment Linc had cornered him by the sink his body had begun to stir. He’d tried not to imagine his brother leaning in to kiss him, his lips so close as Lincoln had demanded answers. God, he’d felt his heat, literally felt it rising from his naked chest. More than anything Mike had wanted to place his palms on his skin, knead it beneath his fingers. Thumb those delicious dark nipples.
He already knew the sounds Linc would make.
When he’d grabbed Michael by the shirt that was when his senses had gone into overdrive. Linc’s breath had washed over him and he’d wanted to suck it all in. As his lips demanded Mike wanted to trace them with his tongue. Then his brother had to stare into his eyes and the fear of being discovered had killed the moment. That was when he’d tried to push him off. But he’d never been stronger than his brother. Not even today.
The struggle that ensued just added more heat to the fire. Lincoln’s bare torso, his raw strength, their bodies touching and finally when Linc had pinned him to the wall—it was a wrap. Michael had developed a raging boner. Panicked at the prospect of his brother noticing it, he’d gone into fight mode. He’d had to get Linc off of him before he realized he wanted Linc in him. So he’d punched him. A good hard one too, Michael’s knuckles still throbbed. As did his hungry cock.
"Goddammit Michael if you don’t open this door!" Linc was outside yelling.
Michael sank down against the wall, buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t let Lincoln see him like this, couldn’t let him know that he aroused him. Know that he was so sick and perverted. He’d lose him forever. That note of desperation slipped into his plea when he called to him.
"Just leave me alone. Please."
There was a brief silence on the other side. Then Linc’s exclamation and he heard him storm off, the back door slamming behind him. Was he leaving?
Knowing his brother he would look for some type of fix to take the edge off. Given their current fugitive status that might be a problem. Shit! Michael jumped up from the floor and rushed the door just as he heard Sucre outside.
"Don’t worry, Papi. I’ll take care of him."
And his footsteps retreated, after Lincoln. A sigh of relief, one crisis averted. Hopefully Sucre could handle him. They’d seemed to get on well in the backyard yesterday. And Sucre had a habit of coming through for Michael.
He ran his hand down his face both mentally and sexually frustrated. Well, one problem at a time. Michael finally opened the bathroom door to find the solution for his second problem standing in front of him.
T-bag rolled his tongue over his lips and started to speak when Michael pounced on him. Tugging at his shirt, loosening his pants, grinding against him as his tongue tore into his mouth.
"I needed you last night," he breathed as he shed his own pants and boxers in one motion.
Bagwell tossed his shirt over his head, pleased with Michael’s enthusiasm he was sure. They kissed passionately as Michael pulled T-bag’s pants down to his thighs. His cock was already awake.
"Fuck me, Teddy."
Their bare erections grinded together, neither bothering to hold back their groans. T-bag took his arms forcefully and spun them around so that Michael’s back was to the wall.
"The bed," he commanded.
Still entangled they lifted from the wall and started left. When Michael slowed down by T-bag and Sucre’s room, Bagwell pulled him along past it.
"No, not that bed."
He didn’t have the presence of mind to care why T-bag was being so picky this morning. He just wanted him inside him. When they made it to Michael and Linc’s room they were both fully naked. Michael didn’t mind being shoved to the bed, his legs spread and ready. T-bag stood over him, his brown eyes ablaze with lust. There was a darkness there too, one that would’ve scared Mike just a week ago but now he invited it. As long as he fucked him hard.
"Suck me like you suck him," he ordered.
Michael sat up, took him by the waist and swallowed his cock to the base.
Bagwell grunted loud and like the first time dug his nails into Michael’s scalp. He allowed him to saturate his hardness in saliva before shoving Michael back down. The next thing he knew, he was being thrown over onto his stomach. T-bag climbed on the bed behind him and jammed his fingers roughly into Mike’s mouth.
"Suck."
Eager to be penetrated, he obliged. Once they were good and wet, T-bag pulled them out. Then, without care at all, he rammed them into Michael’s ass.
"Ow, fuck!"
He began to prepare him just as harshly.
"Teddy what—"
"You like to be disobedient, huh Pretty?"
It hurt but he didn’t want him to stop.
"I told you no one touches you but me. Not that spic Sucre. And not your big dumb brother either!"
He finished his sentence by shoving his cock deep into Michael’s ass at once. Mike screamed, pleasure and pain filling him. T-bag began to move, his strokes angry and punishing. His good hand ran up Michael’s back to his neck. He yanked him up so that Michael was against his belly and wrapped his fingers around his throat.
"You’re mine, you understand?"
His other arm held him steady.
"Who the fuck do you belong to?"
Michael couldn’t breathe. He felt his prostate prodded with vehemence and couldn’t help jerking his leaking prick.
"Say my fucking name Scofield!"
But he couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, could only feel the agonizing ecstasy of this brutal intercourse. He tried to make a sound but with no air coming in there was nothing. His body hit its limit and suddenly he was spurting all over the bed. Michael’s eyes crossed in orgasm. He could hear T-bag’s breathing scatter as his ass clenched in spasms around his thrusting cock. Bagwell growled before shoving his face down.
In the sheets, a familiar scent hit him.
This was Lincoln’s spot. Where Lincoln slept. His musk coated it. Michael breathed in deep as his ass was pummeled by the man he’d not too long ago considered a true enemy. This same man who may not be his friend but he thought he may actually care for.
"Teddy...God!"
Lincoln!
His prick was already rising for a second go. Michael clenched his fists in the sheets, dying at the power of his pleasure. He wasn’t sure if he could survive like this, if his chest wouldn’t explode from his heart beat. At least he would go in a fit of satisfaction.
T-bag flattened himself on top of him, still thrusting as his mouth found Michael’s shoulder. He was grunting, the sound of his voice so close, so rapt fueling Michael further. He wanted to hear that voice break. To lose control as he’d done. So he timed a muscle clench at just the right moment. His partner breathed out a hiss.
Michael turned his face to the side for easy access.
"Kiss me, Teddy," he urged.
Another clench. A groan. Knowing T-bag he would want to be the one to initiate. He liked to believe he was running things. Clearly he had been this entire time. But Michael was fully awakened now. He would control this.
"Please."
He responded to the plea just as Mike knew he would and their mouths connected. The kiss was greedy, urgent, courtesy of both men. Michael let him lead as he liked to do, lulling him into a false sense of dominance. Then he clenched his ass again. Felt the quiver in the man on top of him.
This was going to be fun.
He breathed his name again, knowing that was what he liked. This time when he clenched his muscles he did so in a timed rhythm. Giving his partner just enough time to lose and gain himself before losing it again. It was working.
"Yours," he whispered because possession was another key point for his lover.
"All yours, Teddy."
Clench. Hold. Release.
That did it. Michael could feel him tensing up before T-bag rent the air with a cross between a groan and a curse, something new out of his mouth. His seed spilled inside Michael and his arms squeezed him hard enough that Mike was sure he’d leave a bruise. It was the longest, hardest orgasm between them.
Michael milked it, still massaging him through the aftershocks until finally T-bag had to hiss for him to stop.
The two of them lie there for a while, breathing heavy, absorbing the high. Michael was hard again, aching to poke something but he would be patient. One thing he was sure of was that fucking T-bag was not a two-way street. There would only be one partner to allow penetration of any kind. Given Bagwell’s childhood history, he understood. As long as he fucked him like he’d been doing, Michael would be okay with it.
"God...damn." T-bag still held him though his body was jelly.
Michael smiled as he felt the kisses to his back.
"You learn your lesson?"
His Southern drawl was laden with the satisfaction of a good fuck. All a part of his package, it was making Michael hotter.
"I never touched Sucre," he remarked.
"But you know that."
In response T-bag kissed his neck.
"He won’t let this go."
"I’ll handle him," Michael assured him.
Bagwell’s grip tightened possessively.
"I don’t share."
"You won’t have to."
"Just to be clear."
They were quiet for a moment, still settling when Michael made the realization.
"Why did you want to fuck me on this bed?"
T-bag chuckled into his back.
"Why wouldn’t I? Seems like we only ever get to it in the bathroom. A man likes to be comfortable sometimes."
But that wasn’t it.
"You passed up your bed, even Sucre’s earlier. Why this bed? All the way in here?"
Instead of answering, his lover rolled onto his back. Michael turned on his side so that he faced him.
"It’s because of Lincoln, isn’t it?"
A smirk from T-bag’s lips.
"You wanted me on his bed."
Michael was annoyed at that. More annoyed that he’d unknowingly partaken in the act of sheer pettiness.
"A man has to mark his territory, Pretty."
Michael started to make a smart retort when he caught T-bag’s eyes wandering down his body. His wicked brown pupils settled between his legs.
"Speaking of which..."
He took Michael’s erection in hand and stroked him casually. Mike stared down at it, and became lost in how good it felt to be jerked by this man. He bit his kiss-swelled lips and groaned his excitement as those fingers formed a fist around him and pumped his cock away. The second time he came it poured over Bagwell’s legs and waist. Thick white globs landed in his pubes, gracing his prick as well. He didn’t stop pumping until Michael had shot his last drop.
Once he released him, Mike couldn’t help but to scoot closer. He draped a leg over him, not caring about his cum trails.
"So, it’s safe to say we don’t hate each other anymore," he managed after catching his breath.
T-bag’s arm was around him, his fingertips stroking up and down Michael’s shoulder.
"I stopped hating you the second I knew I could have you."
Michael chewed on that, saw the logic considering the way T-bag’s mind operated. As far as he himself went, he knew that he hated the things his lover had done in the past but he could never hate him again. Exactly how he felt about him was something he still had to sort out. It was more than a fondness, not love of course, but he found himself sincerely caring for him. That was a leap from before.
"I don’t want to leave this spot," Michael confessed.
"Then don’t."
Tempting thought but Lincoln and Sucre hadn’t exactly given them a set time of return. He and T-bag couldn’t be found like this.
"You and I both know how that would end up."
Bloody. Very, very bloody. T-bag looked at him.
"There poses an interesting question," he sounded poetic with his accent.
"What are we going to do about your brother?"
Linc was the only one who didn’t know about the two of them. And thank God he didn’t! If Sucre had taken it badly, his brother’s reaction would be catastrophic. Linc wouldn’t take the time to hear an explanation. He’d go straight for Bagwell’s life.
"He doesn’t have to know."
It was cowardice but with Lincoln there was no other choice. He couldn’t let Linc hurt him. And if T-bag ever hurt Linc...
"How do you know your little burrito-eating friend isn’t telling him right now?"
Michael shook his head. He wished he’d stop the racist insults but given Bagwell’s jealousy he thought it not wise to speak up right now.
"Sucre wouldn’t betray my trust."
T-bag’s eyes darkened.
"Well he’s just your shining brown knight isn’t he?"
Michael ignored the quip and tried to regain focus.
"Linc will be fine as long as he doesn’t know and Sucre won’t say anything unless I give the word so we’re good. But we’d better get this mess cleaned up before they get back."
He hated to try to explain to his brother why their sheets were covered in cum. Talk about awkward.
T-bag watched him, not offering to help but neither did he discourage him. Michael gave him a nudge in an attempt to collect the sheet under him. When that didn’t rouse him, he tried again.
"Come on. Playtime’s over."
Mischievous brown eyes met gray. The next thing he knew he was being yanked back down on top of him. Bagwell took his mouth with ownership, again staking his claim. He didn’t release him until Michael opened his mouth, allowing his older, more experienced tongue in, thus submitting to the declaration.
"How many times do I have to remind you, Pretty? It ain’t over until I say it’s over."
They were still gathering up the sheets when he heard the front door. T-bag broke into a sly smile just as Michael sprung into action.
"In the closet, now!"
He shoved Bagwell into his and Linc’s closet before kicking the wadded up sheet under the bed. Remembering his nakedness, he grabbed some sweats from the drawer and stepped out into the hallway in time to crash into his brother.
Lincoln wreaked of liquor.
"Hey," his brother offered a drunken half-smile.
It was his apology for going off earlier. Some things never changed.
"Hey Linc."
He had to get him away from the room so that T-bag could leave. "You hungry? We got some of those flaming Cheetos you like." He took Lincoln’s shoulders and guided him back toward the living area. Sucre was securing the door when they walked up. He turned around, nodded to Linc but his eyes stopped on Michael. Noting the lack of clothing, the sheen on his tattooed torso, the tell-tale dick print in his sweats announcing that he was commando underneath. Michael saw the evaluation on his face and shook his head to signal not to bring it up in front of Lincoln.
"Here, there’s a game on," Michael flipped on the TV, and guided his brother down on the couch.
"I’ll go grab you some snacks."
He handed him the remote and went to the kitchen. Sucre was literally on his heels.
"You fucked him again?! Seriously?"
Michael whirled around, his eyes warning discretion. He shot a quick glance in Lincoln’s direction but his brother was into the tv.
"Say that a little louder, Sucre. I don’t think they heard you in China."
His friend was too riled up to care.
"I knew I shouldn’t have left you here. Not with that son of a bruja!"
He clapped his hands on both of Michael’s shoulders firmly.
"Listen, we’re going to get you out of this, okay Papi. Whatever it takes. I won’t let him touch you again."
It was bad enough with Linc but Sucre wanted to play protector too. Michael needed to put this fire out before T-bag tried. He knew his lover’s method wouldn’t be too kind. Carefully, Mike rested his hands on top of Sucre’s. He met his Latin brown eyes.
"That’s really not up to you," he stated calmly.
His friend stared in disbelief.
"What?"
"The decision is mine to make," Mike reiterated.
"In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a child here. I’m perfectly capable of choosing who I will and will not have sex with. Whether they meet your approval or not."
He wasn’t being snarky, just stating the facts.
"And you approve of him?" Sucre countered.
"Michael he rapes people. I know you’re not okay with that."
Tell me. How many times have you mouth-raped your brother?
Michael shuddered at the memory.
"You weren’t okay with him trying it on Tweener. You stopped him, remember?"
He did remember. But Fox River was over and done with.
"I know his past. But that doesn’t negate the fact that it’s still my decision whether or not to sleep with him."
He kept his gaze steady, sure to communicate that he was serious. Sucre stared back, just as stubbornly.
"Look, Michael, I get it," he finally sighed.
"An older man comes along, makes your body feel new things, amazing things that you never thought possible. You love it, you crave more. Inside you know it’s not right but the more he touches you the more you need his touch. The more you need him."
Michael swallowed, knowing too well what he spoke of.
"We’re all susceptible as it is but for your first time? To be with someone THAT much more experienced. That deviant and cunning? He took your virginity, meijo because he knew what that would do to you. You never stood a chance."
Michael felt himself waver again, a knot of apprehension growing in his throat. The logical part of his brain said that it made sense, that T-bag would employ such tactics but the other part just didn’t care. Despite his mistrust and their turbulent history, he’d developed feelings for the man. He would never be able to walk away.
"It shouldn’t have been like this for you," Sucre’s hand released his pressure from Mike’s shoulders.
"You deserve better."
Michael stared, curious about the comment.
"Sucre?"
His Latin friend shook it off.
"Guys like T-bag will use you up and when they’re done ‘breaking in’ their new toy, they’ll move on to the next," he warned.
"Only we all know he’s not going to find another Michael Scofield. There will be other pretty faces but not another you. He definitely knows that so he’s going to keep you around until he’s sucked all of the life—all of the purity—all of the goodness out of you. Then when there’s nothing left he still won’t let you go. Not until you’re dead in the ground. Most likely by his hand."
Hearing his words, Michael almost scoffed at his description of him. Purity? Goodness? Please.
"I hate to disappoint you, but there hasn’t been a pure bone in my body for a long time," he half joked.
If there had been it was long destroyed in Fox River.
He was slightly startled when Sucre suddenly cupped him by the sides of his face. His brown eyes were intense as he spoke.
"Papi, you are the purest heart I ever met. Most men from your background—dead mom, no dad, foster homes, felon for a brother—would be the hardest most cynical bastards out there. But you? You kept this humanity inside you. This caring. During the riot, you stood up to T-bag for that CO’s life. When Westmoreland died, you sincerely mourned. When we heard about Abruzzi, Tweener, Haywire and C-Note, I saw the way it affected you. And don’t get me started on what you did for your brother. Michael, you have a soul. It was something so rare in Fox River, hell even out in the real world."
They were silent for a moment, marinating on Sucre’s words. Then he added.
"You deserved better Michael. For your first time. You deserved someone who would care."
Gray eyes searched brown for a moment, trying to get a read on what exactly he was communicating. Sucre allowed it, not pulling back from Michael’s scrutinizing gaze. They remained that way, engrossed in each other’s eyes until finally Michael broke the silence.
"I’d better get Lincoln’s snacks."
Sucre didn’t release him, instead letting his thumb glide down to caress the curve of Michael’s bottom lip. This was a dangerous game. Warily, Mike took his friend’s hands into his, removed them from his face to place them at Sucre’s sides. Safely away from him.
"That sounds like a good idea."
Michael instinctively flinched as T-bag stood in the doorway. He wasn’t sure of how much he’d seen but he’d certainly seen the touch of his lip. Sucre slowly turned, as if in no rush to move his eyes away from Michael. T-bag met his challenge and with the grace of a panther stalking its prey, sauntered into the room.
He took his place beside Michael, and with his eyes still on Sucre spun Michael by the waist to crash into his front. Caught off guard, Michael nearly lost his footing. In that second T-bag ravaged his mouth with a hard, possessive kiss.
"Hey!"
Agitated at yet another attempt to use him against someone he cared for, Michael pushed him off before righting himself.
"Enough," he snapped, catching his breath.
But the damage had been done. Because both men’s eyes suddenly landed at the front of Michael’s sweats, noting the already semi-erect state that just one quick kiss from Bagwell had produced. Michael cursed and shielded it with his hands. T-bag smirked, pleased with himself.
Sucre looked ready to rip Bagwell’s head off.
"This is what you want?" he addressed Michael.
"A man that regards you as property to toy with in front of people? This what gets you off?"
Michael opened his mouth to speak but the only thing he could think to say was, "It’s complicated."
His cock was still rising, tasting T-bag on his lips. His hands couldn’t hide it any longer. Damn the effect he had on him!
"Complicated," Sucre noticed it too.
"Right."
He shook his head, a litany of emotions visible on his face. Above all was anger, no fury. Then a disappointment maybe. And concern. He was still worried for Michael.
"I’m sure it was complicated for Seth too. And Maytag, and those sixth graders back in Alabama—"
T-bag stepped lethally forward, the smirk replaced by his kill face.
"Watch it Wetback—"
"—who are all DEAD now, Michael."
T-bag slid a hand toward his back. As if to pull something out. Looking to avoid an altercation, Michael stepped between the two. He faced his best friend knowing that the only way to save his life at the moment was to drive him away.
"Be that as it may," he said quietly, "It’s still my decision to make. And I’ve made it."
He would never forget the look of disgust Sucre threw directly at him. It was like he was T-bag himself.
"Fine, you want to get fucked up the ass by this inbred piece of shit, it’s your problem. I wash my hands of you. But your brother out there—" he gestured toward the living area—"He isn’t as oblivious as you think. When he figures out the shit you’re pulling you’re going to have to make a decision, Papi. And you better make the right one or there’s going to be bloodshed."
Michael watched Sucre storm out of the kitchen, feeling his chest knot in regret. He wished he could’ve avoided hurting him. More than anything he wished he could’ve avoided that look. It stung deep. He might never regain his friendship.
"You said something about snacks?"
He turned around to face the man indirectly responsible for this new turmoil in his life. Indirectly because it had been Michael’s actions after all that had brought him the opportunity. This man who, with one touch, one caress, one stroke could turn him into a hapless pile of hormones.
"You didn’t have to do that," he scolded him.
T-bag responded with a feigned innocent expression.
"Do what?"
Annoyed, Michael pushed past him to grab the bag of Cheetos. Before he knew it Bagwell’s arms were around his waist, pulling his backside into him.
"You mean, do this?" he groped Michael’s erection firmly through his pants.
Michael released a gasp and a groan rolled into one.
"Stop," he ordered, but his body begged the opposite.
"Lincoln is right out there."
"So?"
"So if he sees—"
"I ain’t afraid of your brother."
He should be.
Michael grabbed the counter to steady himself. His willpower was mush but after Sucre’s warning and the thought of Lincoln—drunk Lincoln—walking in on them was enough for him to pull away. He made it out of his lover’s reach, his breathing quickened.
"I can’t have you two fighting," he remarked seriously.
"One of you would get hurt and I’m not okay with that."
Linc would go berserk. T-bag would definitely fight dirty. No way a weapon wouldn’t be involved. Just as Sucre said; blood would be shed.
Speaking of a weapon.
"What were you about to pull on Sucre just now?"
Mischievous brown eyes stared back at him.
"You can’t kill him, Teddy."
He rolled his tongue.
"Call me that again, you know what it does to me."
The only thing that kept Michael from doing so was the very real threat of harm upon his friend.
"I’m serious. Don’t hurt him."
"Well then it’s best he keep his hands to himself from now on."
That dark, malicious glare. A warning.
"Like I told you. I don’t share."
Their conversation was interrupted by Lincoln’s drunken demand, "Hey where’s my damn snacks?"
Without another word Michael went to him, feeling T-bag’s eyes burning through him as he left the kitchen.
He made sure to stay at the back of the couch when he passed Linc his goodies, at least until he could get his dick down. The thought of what T-bag would do to Sucre was sobering enough that he’d died down to half mass but he still had a ways to go. He watched his brother tear into the bag, pondering the warning he’d just gotten. T-bag hadn’t only been talking about Sucre when he’d mentioned sharing. It was clear in the way he’d needed to "mark his territory" on Lincoln’s bed. He considered him competition too.
That meant that Linc’s life was also in danger.
This had gotten way out of hand.
"You’ll need to drink some water," he murmured before slipping back into the kitchen for a bottle.
T-bag was already drinking one, leaning against the counter. He winked at Michael and continued to watch him without another word. Once back in the living area, Mike was pleased to note that he’d lost his hard-on. Worrying for his brother’s life was the ultimate boner killer.
"Here, drink."
He handed Linc the bottled water and sat next to him. Memories of before Fox River, before actual jail-time (when juvie was the worst Linc had faced) enveloped Michael and he felt comfort in them. When he was still in his preteens, Linc a little buzzed or a little high, relaxing in front of the TV with him. It hadn’t mattered to Michael what they watched. He’d just been glad to have his brother.
He turned to Lincoln, observed him a moment. Sucre was right. He wouldn’t be in the dark forever. If Mike didn’t get a handle on this soon something bad was going to happen. To Sucre or T-bag or God forbid to Linc. He couldn’t bear the thought of any of them getting hurt. He had to formulate a plan.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Brother's Comfort