Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1039699.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Prison_Break
  Relationship:
      Lincoln_Burrows/Michael_Scofield
  Character:
      Michael_Scofield, Lincoln_Burrows
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Dark, Possessive_Behavior, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-10-30 Words: 527
****** The Seven Deadly Sins ******
by aeroport_art
Summary
     Seven short vignettes, Michael-centric.
Notes
     Something much darker than I'm used to writing. Just in time for
     Halloween! Kinda got fascinated on the sense of taste so there's a
     lot of allusions to that.
Sloth.
Lincoln tells his parents he’s going out to the nearby library to study but
really he’s going to the abandoned parking lot to have a smoke with his
friends. Let me come, Linc. Let me come. When Lincoln lets him join the big
boys, Michael sucks the end of the filter and tastes tobacco and watches
Lincoln inhale the secondhand smoke that came from him. Watches Lincoln take a
little bit of Michael inside his lungs. Watches Lincoln, lazy, slow, beautiful.
Envy.
Lincoln is fifteen and Michael is eleven and their parents are dead, so Lincoln
shoulders the responsibility and works for a living. Work hard, play hard, so
they say, and Lincoln lives it like a mantra. Lincoln brings home older women
more often than not. At night Michael listens to the sounds of groaning springs
and rhythmic thumps and he wants something those women have, he doesn’t know
what he wants but it’s in their bedroom, in between their sheets, on his tongue
like the taste of sweat, and Michael just wants.
Lust.
When Michael is old enough, he figures out what it is that he requires. It’s
Lincoln. It’s Lincoln and his frosted grey eyes, it’s Lincoln’s strong back and
curved ass, it’s Lincoln’s soft mouth and callused hands and the way they’d
feel on Michael’s cock. When Michael fists himself it’s Lincoln’s mouth
instead. When Michael listens through the plaster wall it’s him screaming in
ecstasy instead. When Lincoln leaves the shower dripping puddles behind him,
it’s Michael ripping that towel off and on his knees but after Michael comes,
it’s just his hand and mess instead. He doesn’t know what to make of it all but
all he knows is that he requires Lincoln’s heat.
Pride.
When Michael finally breaks Lincoln in he feels a surge of pride. I did this, I
won him, and when Lincoln chokes back a sob and sheathes himself inside of
Michael, it tastes like victory.
Anger.
Michael is a quiet man, quiet but not serene, no. Molten lava flows through
Michael’s veins and beneath the thin veneer of tranquility, he burns. Michael
burns with Lincoln’s body, Lincoln’s soul, so when Lincoln calls their
relationship a mistake, when he calls their lovemaking fucking, Michael
detonates. He sees red and nothing else and when he comes out of it, Lincoln is
underneath him, lips shaped into an apology and devoured by Michael’s tongue.
Gluttony.
This is heaven Michael thinks as Lincoln comes in violent shudders, fluid
trickling down Michael’s throat. This is heaven Michael thinks as he swallows
greedily, overdosing on the euphoric heaviness of Lincoln’s semen in his
stomach. Michael drinks and drinks and when there is nothing left (for now), he
gorges himself on Lincoln’s relaxed, spent body. Michael traces his name with
the tip of his tongue.
Greed.
Michael has Lincoln where he wants him. Michael has Lincoln by his side at day,
in his bed at night, and on his hands and knees in between, but it isn’t
enough. It can never be enough until Michael can see/smell/taste/touch nothing
but Lincoln. Never enough, until more, more, more. Never enough until.
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