Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/152341.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Prison_Break
  Relationship:
      Lincoln_Burrows/Michael_Scofield
  Character:
      Lincoln_Burrows, Michael_Scofield
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Implied_Underage, Community:_rounds_of_kink, Pre-
      Series
  Collections:
      M09_-_2009_April_Fools_Mini-Round_of_Rounds_of_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-01-15 Words: 666
****** A Convenience ******
by Clair_de_Lune_(clair_de_lune)
Summary
     When the need arises, he has a range of fantasies at his disposal.
Notes
     Written for April’s Fool mini-round at rounds-of-kink. Prompts:
     forbidden pleasures and vicarious. Underage is implied only.
     Thanks to Foxriverinmate for the beta.
When the need arises, he has a range of fantasies at his disposal, most of them
including Lincoln and/or Veronica in any possible combinations. Peeping at his
brother and his girlfriend when they were having sex was, in the beginning, as
far as he dared to go. It was some sort of vicarious delight to watch Lincoln
pleasure her and vice-versa. He’s sensible enough to realize why it gets to him
the way it does and how wrong it is. Actually, more than wrong when he imagines
himself with Lincoln alone, leaving Vee out of the picture.
There is only one outlet when this happens. A locked door and his hands sliding
down his stomach and into his pants is the emergency solution but whenever
possible, he’d rather perform a nice little ritual. He settles naked in the
middle of Lincoln’s bed, breathing in his brother’s odor, his hands roaming
freely over his body, pinching and scratching or, according to the mood of the
moment, caressing delicately. Eventually, lubricated with whatever he found in
the bathroom cabinet or the night table drawer, they close around his erection
and start a game of tug and stroke that always, always brings him off in a
spectacular manner.
He has a range of fantasies at his disposal, but his favorite is to imagine
Linc’s eyes trained on him as he slowly strokes himself into release. No
touching from his brother. It allows him to both carry on the fantasy and
perpetuate the illusion that it’s not as inappropriate as Lincoln actually
gratifying him would be. It would be hypocritical, this reasoning, if he wasn’t
aware of the fact that it is a convenience, an expediency to allow him to have
his guilty pleasure.
But tonight, between a stifled groan and a long gasp, when he opens his eyes,
he discovers his brother leaning against the door jamb, a dark, weirdly lustful
expression on his face. For real. Reality meeting fantasy. Michael jolts at the
unexpected intrusion but is too far gone to be able to stop what he’s doing. So
his hands keep desperately stroking and fondling the hard, slick flesh. They
caress and lift and squeeze, fingers sliding lower between his thighs and
pushing with skillful practice. Lincoln greedily follows each of his moves, of
his rolls of hips and flicks of wrist; Michael shows off in response, taking
his ministrations further than he would have without this kind of audience.
He’s not sure what in fact makes the pleasure overwhelming in the end; his own
hands on his shaft, the grunted “Fuck!” that falls from Lincoln’s lips, the
tale telling bulge in his brother’s pants, the eyes fixated on him... Probably
a mixture of all that. He arches up, his hips lurching off the bed and his head
digging into the pillow – Lincoln’s pillow – as release washes over him. It’s a
messy situation, both being caught in the act by his big brother as he’s
masturbating in his bed, and the immediate physical consequences. His mouth
opens on a guttural moan as he goes still, stiff, strands of sperm squirting on
his stomach, an errant filament hitting the sheets balled up against his left
hip.
For about a minute, there is no sound in the bedroom other than their ragged
breaths. They’re unable to stop staring at each other, each of them waiting for
the other to say something, anything, until Michael heaves out a long,
contented sigh. He lazily strokes up his abdomen and chest. It seems to shake
Lincoln out of his stupor because his brother grumbles, “Did you really need to
do this here?”
He’s too sated right now to feel ashamed. Not to mention that Linc is adjusting
the seam of his pants, which makes Michael feel like smiling in sheer delight.
Shame will surely happen at some point, when his post orgasm bliss vanishes,
but right now he curls up into Lincoln’s blanket and answers sleepily, “The bed
smelled like you.”
                                      * *
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