Fandom: Prison Break
Genre: Slash And wildly AU!
Pairings/Characters: Michael/Lincoln. And pretty much the whole cast of PB at one time or another
Rating: NC17 at the top end
Warnings: M/M sex...rather a lot of it, actually
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately
Summary: Lincoln Burrows wins a very special prize that brings him the love of his life. For shy Michael Scofield it means so much more. The boys keep their appointment at the Registry Office and do a little sight-seeing.
Dedication: For katipl and musicophilia, as always.
Previously on Twenty2
Chapter Sixty Four
“Cream tea, Michael?”
As innocent as ever, Michael failed to see the barely-concealed glee on Lincoln’s face.
They’d spent the day visiting Saltram House, a local National Trust property on the estuary of the River Plym. The weather had again been kind to them and they’d enjoyed the walks Saltram Park had to offer, including a stroll along the banks of the river where they paused to admire the gargolyed-arches of the old amphitheatre.
The park was only a short drive away so they arrived back at their apartment late in the afternoon. Lincoln had decided it might be a good time to enjoy the goodies he’d specifically purchased during their shopping trip two days ago.
Michael considered the idea, not wanting to go out again then remembered that Lincoln had insisted they get the makings for a traditional Devonshire cream tea when they had visited the town centre. He smiled. “Sounds good. Shall I make the tea?” He wandered out to the kitchen with Lincoln close behind.
It seemed his plan was working.
“Tea? We have tea?”
“There was a box of tea bags in the welcome pack when we arrived,” Michael confirmed as he turned to look in the numerous cabinets, sure he had put the tea bags in one of them. “There,” he grinned triumphantly. “I knew we had them.”
“Do we have to have tea?” Lincoln grumped, just eager to get Michael tucking into the cream tea.
“You drank it a couple of days ago when we walked to the Barbican,” Michael protested.
“It was tea I was drinking, was it? I thought it was just foul-tasting boiled water.” Lincoln, in truth, hadn’t really been concentrating on what he’d been doing that afternoon. He’d been too busy indulging his new-found oral-fixation as he’d watched Michael tucking into the cream-topped scone and thinking about licking at the cute little moustache the treat had left behind around Michael’s gorgeous lips.
Michael tutted and filled the kettle with water. “It wasn’t that bad. And besides, it’s traditional to have tea with scones. You don’t need to worry because I actually know how to make a good cup of tea.”
This was news to Lincoln. “How do you know?”
Michael grinned. “I watched the waitress in the café make our tea.” He found a china teapot in one of the other kitchen cabinets, turned to beam at a bemused Lincoln, and proceeded to pour some hot water from the kettle into it. He swirled the water around before pouring it into the sink then added three tea bags from the small box he’d found. As soon as the kettle boiled Michael took the pot over to it and poured the scalding water over the teabags, dropped the lid back into place and then went looking for the tea cups and saucers he knew he’d seen. Assembling them on a tray he went to the refrigerator for the milk they’d bought yesterday from the small grocery store along the sea front at West Hoe and poured a small amount into the milk jug that matched the tea cups. When he was done he turned to Lincoln and smiled happily.
“Do you like sugar with your tea, Lincoln?” Michael knew full well that Lincoln had declined to put sugar in his tea the other afternoon, but if they were doing things the English way it was polite to ask.
“I can’t think of anything more foul than adding sugar to tea.” In order to confirm this Lincoln’s mouth turned down in an expression of distaste.
“Me neither,” Michael agreed. He reached into the same cabinet for the tea plates and put those on the tray too before opening the drawer containing the cutlery and withdrawing three knives and a spoon. Lifting the tray he grinned at Lincoln. “Can you bring the scones, jam and cream into the living room, please?”
Assembling the makings of their cream tea, Lincoln put them on another smaller tray he’d found tucked away on top of the fridge under the counter, and followed his boyfriend into the lounge room, taking a seat on one of the easy chairs opposite Michael on the sofa. He felt a little distracted from his objective after watching Michael making the tea so expertly, knowing he would have taken in what the waitress had been doing without really thinking about it. He set his tray down on the tiled coffee table in front of the sofa and beamed innocently at his lover.
“So how did you know how many tea bags to put in the pot? And why did you pour water in then pour it away?”
“I’ve heard the saying One for each person, one for the pot,” Michael told him. “Not so hard to work that out. And the pot has to be warmed.”
“I have no idea.”
He busied himself pouring milk into the cups, followed by the tea, leaving Lincoln to put a couple of scones on each of their plates. He watched as Michael took a small sip of his tea, grimacing very slightly, and then turned his attention to cutting one of his scones and spreading the jam and cream on each half.
Lincoln followed suit, though his eyes kept flicking up to see how far along in the very English ritual Michael was. He felt a tiny flutter of excitement in his belly when he noticed that Michael’s tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth ever so slightly, like he was concentrating.
Still watching discreetly, he’d taken two bites out of his own scone when Michael finally began tucking into his.
There it was. Michael had taken the cream-and-strawberry-jam-topped confection into his mouth, in a very suggestive manner Lincoln thought, and took a bite; as he removed the bigger portion of the scone the gorgeous little clotted cream moustache appeared; just above his top lip and begging to be licked off.
Completely unaware of the scrutiny he was under, Michael took another sip of his tea, flicked his tongue out quickly to lick off a couple of minute crumbs of scone and smiled at Lincoln again.
“This is a really nice treat, Lincoln. That was a good idea of yours.”
Despite the licking of his lips, Michael still wore the cream above his top lip, and Lincoln’s eyes couldn’t help focusing on it. “It really was,” he agreed as Michael took another bite.
By the time he’d nearly finished his second scone Lincoln could feel a definite interest beginning to make its presence felt between his legs. Rapidly finishing off his own confection he put his plate back on the coffee table and watched in awe as Michael took the last bite of his scone.
“Don’t lick your lips, Mikey.”
Michael had just popped the last morsel into his mouth and his eyebrows rose at his boyfriend’s strange suggestion.
Not even trying to hide the evidence of his arousal Lincoln rose and took Michael’s plate out of his hand as he sat down on the sofa next to him. He leaned into his boyfriend, his tongue flicking out to lick off a tiny bit of clotted cream.
“You have no idea how hot you look with that cute little cream moustache, do you?”
Suddenly Michael understood. “You’re orally-fixated, Linc,” he accused, though made no attempt to lick his lips.
“I so am, baby.” Without another word Lincoln proceeded to lick more of the cream off until there was only a slightly sticky residue left above the younger man’s top lip. Licking became kissing and soon enough Lincoln’s tongue slid between the sweet-tasting lips, his arms going around Michael and pulling him onto his lap.
Hands gliding up under his shirt and stroking his body, his mouth filled with Lincoln’s tongue and the feel of Lincoln’s hardness pressing against his thigh soon had Michael’s arousal in overdrive. Even the thought that his cunning lover had manipulated him into getting cream around his mouth so he could lick it off was a hot one and he was soon moaning around Lincoln’s possessive tongue and rubbing his thigh against his lover’s erection.
When they finally had to part Michael was breathless.
“You did that on purpose, Linc,” he gasped.
“Can’t lie to you, baby,” Lincoln purred, hot for Michael yet again, despite only going two days without having sex with him.
Michael laughed. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had this oral fixation, Linc? I would have eaten the scones and cream for you anyway.”
Lincoln gave him an affectionate peck on his still sticky lips. “And miss out on you innocently eating your scone, completely unaware you were driving me crazy?”
Michael couldn’t help giggling. “Lincoln, you’re such a deviant!”
“Aren’t I?” Lincoln grinned. “How are you feeling now, baby? Up to some fooling around?”
“If by fooling around you mean do I want you to fill me with your big, thick cock?”
Michael grabbed Lincoln by the hand and pulled him to his feet. “Bedroom.”
Lincoln happily allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, toppling onto the bed with his obviously needy boyfriend.
Covering Michael’s smaller form with his own heated body, Lincoln proceeded to kiss Michael senseless, the sweetness of the scones he had eaten still lingering.
For his part Michael relaxed into the kisses, happy enough that, despite his amazing experience of topping Lincoln a couple of day earlier, the normal balance of their relationship had been resumed now that his tender hole was no longer sore. He’d loved being the dominant partner in that act, though he knew he could never truly dominate his bigger boyfriend. But he had still loved the experience very much and had somehow felt more of a man because of it.
“Too many clothes, Mikey,” Lincoln whispered against his lips as his hands started to pull at Michael’s shirt.
Michael agreed and his dextrous fingers swiftly unbuttoned his own shirt, allowing Lincoln to pull it from his body.
Frantically they both somehow got naked, their lips barely separating, and Michael found himself on all fours with a swiftly slicked-up-Lincoln-finger in his ass. He moaned, pushing himself back onto the urgent digit. Within moments he felt hot breath tickle his right ear and felt the weight of Lincoln’s straining body against his back, right before he felt a thick, slick cock push into him.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” he wailed, as the pain quickly gave way to pleasure and Lincoln began thrusting urgently, his hand snaking around Michael’s sweat-damp body to fist him in perfect synchronicity with his own rhythm.
Michael screwed his eyes shut, blotting out everything but the blinding pleasure. Soon enough they were lying together in a languid embrace completely spent.
Lincoln’s hand absently stroked Michael’s back. He couldn’t believe that they still couldn’t get enough of each other. Not that he was complaining.
By the next day the weather had turned, becoming overcast and cooler, so Lincoln and Michael took the opportunity to visit some of the other National Trust properties in the area.
They crossed the Tamar Bridge into Cornwall to visit Antony Estate, and once they had seen the house they walked down through the woodland to the River Lynher, a tributary of the Tamar.
The following day they drove to a place called Buckland Monachorum and visited Buckland Abbey, which had been the home of that famous son of Tavistock, Sir Francis Drake.
By the following Monday, two days before the family were due to arrive and four before the day of the wedding, the weather had become sunny and warm again so the two of them took the short walk to Tinside Pool.
Lincoln was amazed at how good a swimmer Michael was. If he was fast now, when he hadn’t swum for years, Lincoln judged he must have been a very competitive swimmer back in his high school days.
But Michael was no longer competitive and instead, once he’d swum several widths of the odd-shaped pool to stretch himself a little he was content to swim around with Lincoln at a far more relaxed pace. Being a weekday, with the school holidays yet to begin, the pool was fairly empty, with only a handful of people taking a leisurely swim in the sunshine.
They spent the whole afternoon at the lido, thoroughly enjoying the relaxation, before strolling back to their apartment.
That night in bed both felt pleasantly tired after the hours in the fresh sea air and settled down companionably.
“Four more days and we’ll officially be a couple,” Lincoln murmured as they snuggled into a cosy embrace.
Lying comfortably in Lincoln’s arms Michael looked up at his boyfriend. “We will.”
“A little. But looking forward to it just the same.”
“Me too.” Lincoln kissed the top of Michael’s head.
To be continued…