Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, ROUGH PLAY, SLIGHT VIOLENCE, SLIGHT BAD LANGUAGE, POSSIBLE SPOILERS
This is centered after the happenings of season 3 episode 1. XD If you haven't seen up till that point I'd advice you not to read this unless you want to risk spoilers...You choice. X3
I hope you like and if u can, please pleas please please leave a review! It only takes a moment and I will appreciate it greatly! Thank You in advance and ENJOY!
Also, I do NOT own Prison Break or any of the characters!
Dogs on a Leash
Alex's eyes darted this way and that, on constant vigilant look out. In a place such as Sona a stray shard of glass or a sudden fight, which could easily lead to death, was not all that unthinkable...It was damn right believable actually. He remembered Lechero's 'orientation' and his pride in the 'rules' of the prison. Bullshit! The system was about as effective as he was a saint. He knew better than to question the head honcho though...He didn't get where he was by being stupid and sticking his neck out without thinking.
And yet, earlier that day he'd done a pretty moronic thing. Something which flew directly in the face of everything he believed in. Alex hurried his steps, the memory of his actions replaying in his mind's recorder. The way he stepped in and killed that man, succeeding in not only putting himself on the other inmates' radar but also breaking the 'rules'. And for what? Well...for him of course.
He remembered the first time he laid eyes on Michael Scofield in person. That time when he was escorting LJ, trapped in that tight place, forced face to face with Michael and his brother in their desperate attempt to free the young boy. He could remember those strikingly clear eyes, blue as the open skies but deep as bottomless oceans. He could see them every time his own eyes closed as if their imprint was forever tattooed on the insides of his eyelids. The intelligence radiating from those orbs was as intense as the glaring morning sun. He knew then there was no way he could catch Michael , some part of him realized this the first time their gazes connected, but like an addict he was hooked. He continued to chase the man, always falling one step behind, always chasing his shadow, always outsmarted, but he continued the chase. Why?...He still wasn't sure.
In hindsight, Alex realized his obsession began growing the moment he laid eyes on Michael's photo, enclosed in that yellow folder. How many times did he stare at that small picture, trying to understand what was going on in that acute mind, willing the blue depths to yield their secrets. He knew from the start this case was different, it was special, and when he realized the depth of Michael's plan, the intricate detail brought to life across the man's skin, the interest began to morph into obsession.
Memories of being locked up in his office surrounded by pictures of Michael's tattoo, days on end, occupied his mind. At first he only noticed the elusive ink, the word and pictures taunting him, but then he began to see past them. His eyes would unconsciously follow the folds of the powerful pectorals beneath the battling angels and demons, or the visibly taunt muscles stretching across the raised arms. At first he chastised himself whenever he caught himself in the act but then his obsession morphed into addiction.
His 'work' began to consume him, and his colleagues saw it too. He brought it home with him and it was the last thing he saw before going to bed and the first when he woke up. It even began to haunt his dreams. It was always the same dream though, with slight variations, but the same basic plot. He was in a cathedral and every time he looked at the flying buttresses he recognised the designs on Scofield's chest. On his left was a statue of an archangel, his position poised for striking a foe, while on his left was a devil with a cross shaped blade firmly lodged in the cement ground. As soon as Alex would step past the heavy set, wooden doors they would snap shut behind him and his heart would pause for a moment, the loud bang echoing through the hollow building. There were no benches or any further furniture except the two statues and an altar at the head of the space.
A blood red carpet stretched below his feet, leading him to the altar, and he knew he had to follow it. Even when the dream began repeating itself and he tried to change his direction, his feet would always take the same path. Three steps and he would reach the statues, their heads turning to follow him. Alex didn't dare meet their eyes though he could see them from the corners of his own and they were as red as the carpet. He knew the dream would be over once he reached the altar and his pace quickened, eager to leave this cold, stone entrapment behind. Around half way through he would realize the carpet was no longer solid but liquid and his shoes were gone so the full, nauseating sensation of blood covering his feet was felt. He tried to stop or turn back but he couldn't and the two pairs of bloody eyes were firmly targeting his back. He never had any proof of this, but he was certain that should he struggle the Devil and Angel would sink their blades in his flesh and he knew it would hurt.
With the silent threat weighing heavy on his mind he pushed forward, and with each step he sank deeper into the sanguine river. He fought down the bile as the liquid reached his knees, then his waist and then his chest. He was nearly there, just a few more steps. He hoped the blood wouldn't reach further but the descend was steeper at the end and within his last three steps it reached his lips. The smell filled his lungs and the iron taste coated his tongue. It was only his training as an FBI agent and his encounter with numerous gruesome, bloody situations which kept him under control. At this point in his nightmare, because it was no longer a dream, Alex was certain he would walk to his own death, drowned in the blood of innocents and sinners alike.
But just as he was beginning to lose hope, his foot fell on a step and then another and he began to rise out of the river and leave the blood behind him, at this point covered in red from top to bottom. He wanted to wipe the substance off his face and spit it out of his mouth but his arms refused to obey him. They hung loosely at his sides while his legs continued to take step after step, nearing the stone altar. Upon closer inspection, Alex noticed an open book covering the surface of the stone but he was still too far away to decipher the tiny words.
Finally he climbed the last step and his bare feet touched stone again, leaving the macabre carpet behind. His eyes were fixed on the book but his attention snapped upwards when he detected movement behind the altar. A figure stepped out of the shadows, literally, a hooded figure which resembled a monk though his robe was pitch black. Alex froze, forgetting his need to read the book, and watched as the monk approached him, stopping himself on the other side of the tome. His head was lowered and the hood basked the face entirely in shadows.
'Who are you?' Alex was surprised to find his voice nothing but a whisper and even more surprise to realize he felt no fear. At least none directed at the monk...
'You know who I am.' Alex didn't and he studied the lowered face curiously but his eyes couldn't penetrate the thick umbrage. Then the head rose and sky blue eyes met his. The FBI agent gawked, unable to understand why Michael Scofield was in his dream and why he wasn't feeling any animosity towards the escaped convict. Another thing which always struck him whenever he came face to face with that gaze was how innocent the eyes looked, which was ridiculous considering the man's file, but Alex knew evil and this man was not.
'Isn't it a bit hypocritical for a convict to dress like a monk?' Michael's lips curved into a small smile, calculated just like the rest of him, and he lowered his gaze to the forgotten book. Alex did the same and everything seemed to stop...
The name of all his kills across the years filled the pages, the black letter turning red before his very eyes. The top five where the ones which haunted him most though. Heywire's name shone an extra vivid colour as did David's...and then there was the name which filled his heart with dread upon every sight or utterance. Oscar Shales. The skeleton in his backyard.
'What-What is this?' His voice shook and Alex could not tear his eyes away from the time eroded pages. The names seemed to jump at him, pulsing with life and thirsty for revenge.
'That, Alexander Mahone, is your guilt. You chase me under the pretence of good but aren't your hands the ones stained with blood?'
Alex looked at his palms, feeling the life substance trailing through his fingertips and that's when he always woke up. Even now, after sleepless nights and while walking down the corridors of hell itself he could still hear Michael's words bouncing off the walls of his skull, trapping the question inside the contents of his mind. He could feel it eroding him like a cancer, spreading and consuming him with guilt and paranoia. At first he obviously dismissed the dream as nothing more than a result of overworking but when it continued to return night by night by night and when he came face to face with Michael for the first time doubt began weaselling its way inside his soul. He knew evil and Michael was not...
When Michael had him at his mercy with a gun pointing at his chest in that cage it only proved something he already knew. This man he was chasing so ardently was not a criminal. He knew this and yet...Why did he continue the mad hunt? Was it because of the blackmail threatening to reveal his past crime? At first yes, but he soon forgot about Shales. He knew nobody could run away from their past forever, though he'd certainly tried, and he knew even if he caught Michael and Lincoln and every other escaped convict of Fox River they would just find other ways to turn him into a hunting dog. Those were people who had no qualms about taking the life of a young boy and they proved so when his son ended up in hospital.
So why did he chance Michael? And he did only really chase Michael, the other convicts were nothing but a distraction. The former FBI agent paused for a moment, considering the question, already knowing the answer. He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips at his own pathetic existence. He chased Michael Scofield because unconsciously he'd taken the place of his drugs. Because he was an addict and that's what addicts did, they chased their high at the risk of losing everything and he did lose it all. He lost his family, his job, his reputation, even his freedom. And even here, in this hell hole, he was still chasing his high.
'You're a fucking wreck Mahone.' He admitted it. He could hardly deny it when his entire body shook and trembled from the pains of withdrawal...And that was only the visible physical side. On the inside he was nothing but a hollow husk, plagued by guilt and self-hatred. Pathetic.
'Alex.' The former FBI agent halted, his gaze snapping up from the ground at the sound of his name. He knew the identity of the man calling him before he turned to look. Even in real life his steps still brought him to Michael. If only he believed in such concepts as faith and destiny...
'Michael.' The man in question was sitting on his bed, in his cell, his piercing eyes looking directly into Alex's soul. He had a hand draped loosely over a raised knee, the foot resting on the edge of the bed's metal frame. He looked surprisingly at ease considering he'd been nearly killed earlier that morning...
'I wanted to thank you for earlier today.' Alex hadn't expected any gratitude, especially after Michael had made it abundantly clear they were not going to team up. He stared mutely at the other man, wondering if this was some sort of trap. But no, Michael was just a generally good guy... His thanks were sincere.
'Sure.' Mahone balled his fist, trying desperately to stop the shivers. He didn't want Michael, especially Michael, to see him in this deplorable state. Unfortunately, the movement of his fingers only attracted the younger man's attention and Alex cursed his stupidity.
'If you hadn't intervened I probably wouldn't be alive now.' Michael spoke automatically, as if his mind was in an entirely different place, while his gaze studied the other's shaking limb.
'A big guy like you? You would have held your own.' Alex wanted to run but he couldn't move his legs. His dream was becoming reality...
'We both know that's not true. Despite popular belief, I still haven't killed a man. Not directly.' Michael's voice dropped when he said that last sentence, remembering all the innocent victims murdered by T-Bag because of him. Their deaths were on his hands even if Linc tried to convince him otherwise.
'Only because you haven't been pushed into a corner yet. Believe me, when that happens killing is very easy. I speak from experience.' Michael met his eyes once more and Alex felt his mouth go bone dry. His shaking slowed down, but he didn't notice...
'You are the expert.' That was a low blow and Alex felt it as painfully as any physical hit, something which wasn't lost to Michael. It may have been petty, a thing which he honestly was not, but Michael was still harbouring a grudge against the former FBI agent for murdering his father. The father whom he didn't have a chance to know enough to miss.
'Yeah. So I'm going to go now.' Where exactly, he had no idea but he had to leave those eyes behind. The way Michael gouged into his very existence with his hate filled eyes made his burdening crimes a crushing weight. He actually felt his knees beginning to give way...He turned to leave, swallowing his emotions down and slipping under the subterfuge of his trained mask of calculated calm. He was the living embodiment of hypocrisy. A criminal pretending to be an officer of the law. The devil pretending to be the angel.
'Alex wait.' Michael moved from his seat and before Alex managed to make a run for it, the younger man's hand reached out and grasped his wrist. Reflexively Alex yanked it free but he did wait and he did turn towards Michael, his other hand unconsciously cradling his wrist as if it had been burned. 'You want something from me.'
Alex prayed for the ground below his feet to suddenly open up and swallow him whole. He swallowed audibly and tried to calm his pounding cardiac muscle. Shit! He wasn't sure if Michael was referring to his wish to partner up or to his more...erotic desires. There were only a few times in his life he'd felt wild panic. Having a gun pointed at him, killing his first man, on his wedding day, in court before he was sentenced to Sona and this certainly was the crown jewel.
'I don't know what you're talking about.' Alex tried to leave again but once more he was stopped by Michael who blocked his path with his build. The older man's eyes automatically fell to the clothed chest, practically seeing the tattoo across the milky skin, having committed every detail to memory.
'Come on Alex. You know my greatest talent is attention to detail and I've been looking at you.' Mahone's eyes shot up in alarm. 'Your body language, your looks, even your guarded words all indicate you want something from me. What is it?'
'It's better if you don't know.' Alex took a step back, already resolving to run back the way he came. It was only his prideful and stubborn nature which kept him upright and steady, ignoring the withdrawal side effects. His mask was quickly cracking though...and even a blind man could see he was hiding something.
'But I want to know.' The older inmate glanced around him, searching for any change of topic. Any help, any way out but found nothing but defaced walls and litter. He might as well be living in a zoo from the way those men behaved when left to themselves...He was certain monkeys had a better grasp of hygiene than half the scumbags incarcerated here.
'Your tattoo.' Michael had watched Alex's face carefully, seeing the panic slowly turn into hopelessness and he knew he had him. 'I want to see it.' Michael searched the ex-agent's face but saw nothing other than open truth even if Alex refused to meet his eyes. He took in the tightly clenched jaw, the furrowed brows and the tightly pressed lips. This was not an easy request for Alex...
Michael didn't say a word and moved back into his cell. He turned to face Mahone, who's eyes finally lifted from the piles of garbage, and brought his shirt over his head, throwing it in a heap across the bed. Alex swallowed again, this time nothing but air, and his eyes roamed over the surface he knew so well. He took a step closer, ignoring the side of him which screamed it was a trap, hypnotised by the black lines and curves brought to life by Michael's pulse. The engineer watched him calmly, wondering what he'd do next.
Mahone was inside the cell, no more than two steps away from a masterpiece on par with the works of titans such as Michelangelo and Da Vinci. One step away and his fingers twitched with the yearn to touch. This was not some cheap imitation captured across a page by the flesh of a camera, it was the real deal. His eyes studied the angel first, the beautiful wings raised above the crouching figure, his head bowed in defeat and contorted in pain. From there his eyes travelled up the sword of the devil and paused on the beast's dark eyes.
He didn't ask if he could touch but Michael didn't stop him. He continued to watch Alex's mesmerised expressions as the agent's fingers rested on his ribs, on the tips of the defeated angel's wings. The fingers moved ever so gently, as if afraid to mess up the permanent ink, along the curve of the heavenly creature's back, following the same path his eyes had seconds earlier. Michael remained silent but his breathing became slightly more laboured when Alex ran his palm across the demon to the arch illustrated above his right pectoral. The first arch led to the second, palm tracing the collarbone, reaching the third and descending to momentarily rest across his heart.
Alex felt it, the life pulsing under his skin. He felt each heart beat and it seemed to resonate with his own. He was so close now he could feel the other's heat and he knew that if he leaned in just a couple of inches he would feel the other's lips. However his eyes were too absorbed by their long, long awaited reward and he moved his palm over Michael's shoulder, reaching his left shoulder blade. The image on the back was a perfect opposite of the front, good about to strike evil a deadly blow. Alex looked into the eyes of the angel but found them as cold and impassive as the devil's.
Michael closed his eyes and concentrated on the other's touch. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen but it only flamed his growing internal fire. He knew the feeling, he'd felt it before, and he knew Alex felt the same. Words may lie but the body was compelled to speak the truth and Michael saw lust inside the ex-agent's stormy blue eyes as clearly as if it had been tattooed across his forehead. He'd seen it long before while in the middle of their hide and seek game but he never thought he'd share this lust.
The feel of Mahone's hand across the small of his back brought him back to reality and he inhaled sharply. The fingers moved up his spine, sending shivers across that oh so sensitive portion of skin, and Michael had to fight down his desires. He wasn't an animal like T-Bag. He refused to make any snap judgements or impose his will on another person. No, Alex had to open up first and Michael wouldn't push him.
Alex's eyes noticed the burn mark across the younger inmate's right shoulder blade and he felt a pang of regret. Not only was the beautiful tattoo harmed but this must have been the cause of great pain for the genius engineer. He almost felt like laughing...Here he was, regretting Michael's injury when he'd planned to kill him though now he was beginning to wonder if he could actually have pulled the trigger. Without thinking he leaned over and pressed his lips to the injured flesh and Michael's sharp gasp made him jump back like the flesh was still piping hot.
'Sorry. This was a mistake.' Alex panicked, the spell thrown over him by the hypnotic prison prints broken, and he quickly stepped around the other, heading for the exit at top speed. He couldn't believe he'd just given himself away like that. He was an idiot and a coward and chose to run rather than risk getting hurt.
This time when Michael's hand shot out and caught Alex the later didn't stop in his tracks. He fought Michael off, the only thing on his mind being the need to escape. Unfortunately Michael's harboured animosity for the ex-agent prompted him to retaliate. Alex tried to yank his hand free and when that didn't work he lashed out with his other fist. It was easily dodged but the trained ex-field agent was not discouraged. He kicked out, getting Michael square in the unprotected ribs but the engineer didn't let go. Instead he pulled Alex towards him, preventing any further ability to use his legs, wincing when he moved his waist. Damn the man could pack one powerful kick...Alex resorted back to punches but he was obviously distracted and his head was not in the game, proven by how easily Michael dodged the blow and caught his other wrist only to slam the older man harshly into the brick wall.
Mahone felt the breath get knocked out of him and his jaw rattled when the back of his head made hard contact with the vertical surface. A momentary daze washed over him and his limbs stilled, giving Michael enough time to slip in between Alex's legs and press him firmly to the wall so he was completely trapped.
'Let me go.' Alex tried to break free but he knew it was useless. Michael was physically more powerful than him, one only had to look at his powerful built, but he had to try.
'I knew this was a trap.' Mahone gave a wry laugh, but it only emphasised his fear.
'Why did you come then?' The other kept silent because he couldn't very well say the truth now could he? He glared at Michael, realizing that once again he was one step behind. 'You want more.' It wasn't a question and Alex's lips pressed tightly together. The other was close enough for his breath to dance across his lips. It wouldn't take long for him to crack, not under those conditions. He could already feel the rush of arousal and prayed it wouldn't stand to attention for Michael to see as well...That would certainly be the cherry on top of the god damn cake.
'Yes, I want to get out of here. Well done Mr Scofield, you won the jackpot.' Sarcasm was his defence mechanism...He couldn't help it.
'Why do you want to get out so much?' That question threw Alex off completely. Why wouldn't he want to get out? He was in a fucking prison, scratch that, purgatory with no laws, no food, no water, no hope, no nothing!
'Wh-What sort of stupid question is that? Are you saying you want to stay in?' This time Alex's smirk was one of pure amusement while his brain was working furiously to figure out Michael's angle.
'Of course not, but I have someone waiting for me on the other side of that fence. Do you?' Mahone's smirk dropped like a stone in water and his eyes filled with hot fury. That was harsh and he struggled to get free again. Michael was expecting this reaction though and he pressed the ex-agent's wrists firmly on either side of his head, certain his fingers would leave bruises.
'You son of a bitch!' Michael knew his set up with the drugs had cost agent Mahone his last change to regain his family and he honestly did regret that but then he remembered Alex pointing a gun at his brother, killing his father, threatening his nephew and he tightened his hold, ignoring the barely supressed wince on the other's face.
'At least I didn't get any of your family killed.' Alex clenched his teeth, knowing full well he had no defence for that accusation.
'And if I hadn't done that then they would have died.' It was Michael's turn to clench his jaw. Both stared at the other, their intense anger mingling with their unsatisfied lust, while knowing and understanding the other's motives but unable to let go of their animosity. 'You have every right to hate me. Hell I would have already put a bullet in my head had I been in your place, but I am sorry. I know you don't believe me and I don't blame you but it's the truth.' The thing was, Michael did believe him and saw regret dragging Alex's eyes down like an unbearable weight was noosed around his neck.
'I know.' His tone was calmer and his shackle like grasp relented slightly. 'You're not evil Alex.' The ex-agent scoffed but did bring his eyes back up. 'You're not. An evil man would have no regrets. I don't know if I would have done things any different had I a young son to protect. You're just a good father and a simple man.' Alex's lips fell slightly open and, though he reigned them in with every last ounce of his pride, he felt tears beginning to gather at the corners of his eyes. Michael's words were something he'd longed to hear from someone, anyone, for years. He stared at the younger man wondering if those intelligent orbs really could see into his soul...Frankly, it seemed like the only logical explanation.
'You would have found a way out of it. You're not like me, a dog on a leash too stupid to bite the hand which feeds him lies.'
'I'm not so sure about that. We're both dogs on a leash now. But...' Michael leaned in and captured Alex's unprepared lips, watching the ex-agent's eyes widen in open surprise. '...a leash can be broken.' Enough talk.
Michael pressed their bodies together, taking full advantage of Alex's helpless position, and re-joined their eager lips. This time Mahone wasn't surprised and allowed himself to be swept by the wave, resolving to deal with the consequences later. Michael licked his lower lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss, and permission was granted when the guarding lips parted. The younger man slipped his tongue inside, tangling with the other verbal muscle in a mock battle. Surprisingly, for both of them, it was Alex who gave in and allowed Michael free reign of his mouth, moaning softly when he felt his tongue being sucked inside the other mouth.
Michael's hands slid down the now complacent wrists, choosing to explore the skin under Mahone's tight t-shirt. He moved the cloth upwards, his palms pressing against the lithe abdomen and his thumbs rubbing against the dusky nipples. Alex's hands grasped Michael's biceps, holding on as if to steady himself but without hindering the other's movements. In fact his low moan spoke volumes of encouragement.
Michael considered breaking the kiss to push the pesky article of clothing over Alex's head but then he remembered the roughness of the wall behind him and at the rate they were going he had very little doubt he would be taking the ex-FBI agent right there. Plus, he really didn't want to break their heated encounter...He pressed harder into Alex, not so accidentally rubbing their crotches together. The older man broke the kiss and gasped, his eyes fluttering closed as the friction induced pleasure surged through him.
His hands grasped Michael's hips, pulling him up against himself once more, relieved to find he wasn't the only one pitching a tent. The engineer was happy to mesh their bodies together as many times as Alex desired while his lips descended down the curve of his sharp jaw to latch onto his exposed throat. The ex-agent bridged his neck in order to allow better access, hitting the wall with the back of his head but ignoring the flaring pain. He was quickly reduced to a rather wanton state under Michael's skilful ministrations, his hips beginning to grind back against the other's with their growing thirst for more.
Suddenly Michael's tongue stopped swiping across the smooth skin and he gasped into Mahone's shoulder, sending shivers all over the other man's nervous system. Alex's hand moved to cup the bulge in the other's trousers and he fondled it, applying enough pressure to make Michael hiss in pleasure. With a smirk upon his lips, the older prisoner kissed the other's shoulder and began lowering himself to the ground, his tongue leaving a trail along the centre line of Michael's upper body, until his knees hit the floor and his lips closed around the bellybutton.
'Alex, you don't have to-'
'I want to.' Michael pressed the palms of his hands flat against the wall, watching as Alex practically tore his belt apart and popped the jeans buttons open. He pulled the constricting denim down Michael's legs to free the member standing proudly to attention.
Mahone paused for a moment, wondering what to do next. He'd never actually done this to a man before but he'd been on the receiving end plenty of times so he did know the mechanics behind the act...And there was the added advantage of knowing what tricks worked for him. He just hoped Michael had similar weaknesses...
'Alex...' He glanced up to see the cerulean gaze begging him to do something. A devilish grin stretched his lips when he realized their positions had been reversed. Who was the helpless one now?
Having Michael Scofield at his mercy was something he'd only dared dream about and if he wasn't so damn needy and desperate for the other's heat he would have taken a moment to truly commemorate the moment, but he procrastinated enough at it was. He swiped his tongue out and traced the underside of the length. His reward was a sharp gasp and when he circled the head Michael's hips twitched. Either the engineer was needier than he'd anticipated or he was just naturally good at this...Of all the talents to have...
Alex's slid his tongue in between the tiny slit, knowing from past experience how ecstatic that electric touch felt. Prompted by Michael's fingers, now twisting in his hair, he parted his lips and allowed the length inside his mouth, slowly so as not to trigger his gag reflex. It was a bit difficult at first to balance breathing and swallowing but Alex was a quick learner, even in situations such as these, and he managed to house the whole member inside his fleshy cavern, feeling the head hit the back of his throat. Michael's fingers pulled absentmindedly on his strands and the older man relished the burn spreading across his scalp.
Slowly at first he began moving, having to hold Michael's hips or risk choking. His pace increased as he got more and more familiar with the organ inside his mouth, it's size, girth and heat, and he became daring as well. His tongue began winding across the protruding veins and coiling around the member, extracting some very satisfying noises of pleasure from the engineer.
Suddenly Alex let go of Michael's hips and they bucked forwards, the hands on his head pressing him along, and the ex-FBI agent allowed himself to be taken as roughly as the other pleased. The pace became hectic as Michael chased his own high and Alex closed his eyes, concentrating on his task. He moaned lowly, sending vibrations running along the length and Michael nearly tore his hair out in his frenzy. There was something incredibly empowering about reducing someone as cool as Michael to their baser instincts.
Just when Alex was certain the other would come, and he braced himself, Michael pulled out and lifted him to his feet, pinning him against the wall once more. Mahone welcomed the eager lips pressing against his with fervour, losing himself in the now feral eyes which no longer promised clear skies but wild storms. Michael pushed the pesky trousers down Alex's legs, his kiss becoming more passionate, and the older man brought a leg up to wrap it around the other's waist, once more grinding their exposed erections against each other.
One of Scofield's hands tangled with Mahone's, their fingers uniting fervently, while his other hand moved to grasp the ex-agent's ass. Alex involuntarily bucked his hips at the groping. He knew what Michael aimed to do and when the hand neared his entrance he wasn't at all surprised to feel a finger pushing inside. He wished desperately for some lubricant but the pain was a minor discomfort and even if he wanted to there was no way he could stop this chain of events now.
The digit hooked and twisted inside him, searching along the lining of muscles, driving deeper and harder until the figurative switch was hit dead centre and Alex yelled sharply. They were past the point where they feared being overheard, not that it would have been a problem considering they were in a prison with no guards. Michael studied Alex's reactions, his fingers thrusting into that magic spot with deadly accuracy. He added a second digit and a third after that, stretching the tunnel of muscle to its limits.
Alex winced slightly but he easily ignored the pain, drowning it in pleasure, since he'd been through way worse...way worse. Once Michael deemed Mahone ready, he removed the fingers, noting the man's groan of regret, and grasped the man's thighs. Alex's long legs wrapped around his waist while his arms joined behind his neck, and Michael lifted him, using the wall as a support to distribute his weight.
Mahone looked down at Michael, feeling the head of his member pressing against his welcoming entrance and their eyes met in an explosive second before the length pushed all the way in, filling Alex much more than any three fingers ever could. The engineer allowed a moment's repose so they could both adjust to the feel of having another human's burning heat inside or around them. Michael closed his soft lips over the portion of skin joining shoulder to neck and sunk his teeth in the flesh hungrily. He ran his tongue over the dents left across the sun kissed canvas, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
The repeated onslaught of his prostate had Alex seeing stars and his larynx lost all manner of control over his voice. The thrusts were powerful enough to rock them both violently and he was glad Michael allowed him to keep his shirt on or the wall would have marked him in a much nastier way than the engineer had. It didn't take long for them to reach the edge of their respective cliffs and to topple right over, both slaves to their primal instincts. Michael's movements became punishing and destructive, as if he intended to crush Mahone's last line of defence, and he succeeded.
Alex felt the rush, the adrenaline, surging through his veins and it was more intense than benzodiazepine. The addict in him was satisfied for the moment and he knew with absolute certainty he was hooked, just to a different drug. A drug which only Michael Scofield could supply. His eyes fluttered closed, the last remains of the overwhelming orgasm washing over him, vaguely aware of the other's continuous thrust and moaning softly in return.
His eyes flew open when he felt the other's seed fill his tunnel and trickle down his thighs. He glanced down to see the top of Michael's shaved head, the younger man slumped into him which trying to regain his breath, and in that moment of clarity he wondered if he'd simply substituted one leash for another...
Michael leaned his back against the wall, the same wall he'd had Mahone pined against just a few hours ago. He fancied he still felt the older man's heat radiating from the old bricks. He turned his head to look out the barred window, noticing some stray clods drifting carelessly across the inky sky. They blocked the moon but moved along quickly enough and the silver arrows shot through the thick bars, illuminating his cage. He followed them, his eyes falling across the sleeping man's back, curled away from him.
Alexander Mahone, former FBI agent, who was responsible for god knew how many deaths including his father's and yet...Here he was, resting in his bed after hours of love making. Michael narrowed his eyes but he honestly didn't feel any true hatred towards the man. He understood well enough what it was like to be blackmailed into doing something he detested in order to protect the ones he loved...after all, wasn't he in the same situation at that very moment. Plotting to break James Whistler out of Sona to ensure the safety of Sara and LJ. And it wasn't like his 'genius' plan hadn't backfired...It wasn't like he was a saint. T-Bag's leering grin flashed across his mind and he felt his guts tighten in disgust.
His attention refocused on Alex when a slight tremor shook the naked back. Michael's eyes softened. He could only imagine what the other was going through, never having felt the pains of drug withdrawals before...But he had been around Sara and witnessed her spiralling into self-destruction, even her attempt at suicide. He hoped Alex would be stronger but he also knew the man was a much harder addict than Sara, who went through rehab, and he didn't get the benefit of a slow sobering. His meds were swiped off as suddenly as his freedom and Michael could already see the side effects kicking in. At least he prayed Mahone wouldn't do something stupid, something to jeopardise their escape because though he was still wary about partnering up, he knew the ex-agent was highly intelligent and one way or another he'll include himself in his plans.
Maybe Alex was right and they were just dogs on a leash, driven by the Company, or by society, or by prison bosses like Lechero, but he had every intent to break free and stay that way. One way or another...
Yep, you've reached the end. I hope it was a fun trip...XD And if u can, please let me know if that was, or was not, the case through a much appreciated review. X3
HAVE A LOVELY DAY!