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| Title: Silent Scream Author: Miss Mandy Fandom: Prison Break Pairing: Scofield/T-bag Rating: NC-17 Author's Notes: I apologize for all the crying. Michael walked back to his cell solemnly, Sucre waiting for him at the door. Michael didn’t say a word as the C.O. locked him in, he just stood there, looking out through the bars. Lincoln was dead. After everything he had planned, after all he had done, his brother had still died. Michael had just watched him be executed. And there wasn’t anything he could do. He’d never felt so helpless, so distraught, so completely utterly lost. “Michael…” Sucre said gently, reaching out to touch his cellmate’s shoulder. “Don’t,” Michael said firmly, still looking out the cell, and Sucre retracted his hand, “Just don’t.” Sucre hopped up onto his bunk and looked down at the other man sadly. “I’m sorry, bro,” he intoned quietly. Michael closed his eyes as he tried not to cry. He couldn’t help it as the tears slipped down his cheeks and he didn’t care if the other inmates saw him. He just couldn’t turn around and look at Sucre right then, he couldn’t look at his cellmate’s sympathetic face without completely losing it. It had all been for nothing. And now he had nothing to live for anymore. He was on his way out to the yard when T-bag grabbed him and pulled him into the deserted storage room. Michael didn’t even put up a fight. Just let himself be dragged along like a rag doll by the murderer. At that point he didn’t even care if T-bag killed him. In fact, he would have welcomed it. “Sorry about your brother,” T-bag said, still holding onto Michael’s shirt. His apology was lessened by the fact that he was grinning. Michael said nothing. He didn’t care if T-bag was really sorry, he didn’t care if T-bag was happy about it, he didn’t care if T-bag got off on it. There was no point. “Awful quiet there, Pretty,” T-bag said, letting go of Michael’s shirt and leaning in close to him, “You’re probably wonderin’ why I dragged you in here.” Still Michael didn’t respond, just stared T-bag down with that cool, steady gaze. The pedophile was unfazed however. “I know you must be hurting, Pretty,” he said, “Which is why I decided you could use a little comfort.” He slipped his hand underneath the waistband of Michael’s pants and squeezed him through the fabric of his boxers. Michael pushed him away feebly, looking disgusted. T-bag just grinned and shoved Michael against the wall, pinning him there. “Now I didn’t say it was voluntary, did I? Relax, Michael. And let T-bag take care of you.” Michael squirmed as T-bag wrapped his hand around his already stiffening cock. He didn’t want this. But he didn’t see a point in trying to argue. It wouldn’t do him any good. Nothing he did ever did any good. He whimpered as T-bag’s lips made their way to his neck, kissing along his collar bone and making their way up to that spot right behind his ear. His hips involuntarily rolled forward, trying to gain more contact from the man in front of him. “That’s right, just relax and enjoy it,” T-bag whispered. Michael began to breathe faster, trying to hold back his moans as T-bag teased him with his fingers. It felt better than anything. Well almost anything. It didn’t feel better than the first time he and Lincoln had sex. The thought of his brother brought back fresh tears and he shut his eyes tight, trying to will the thought away. But he couldn’t. The feeling of T-bag’s hand stroking him up and down made him think of Lincoln’s hand wrapped around his cock as his brother thrust into him. The feeling of T-bag’s mouth on his made him think of Lincoln’s kisses as they lay in bed afterwards, exhausted and happy. T-bag began to speed up his pace and Michael could feel he was close. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come thinking of Lincoln. Of his brother. His dead brother. Michael desperately tried to think of something else, anything else, but he couldn’t. Lincoln was every thought in his head. June 16, 1991. No. A hasty kiss while they sat on the couch watching some dumb old movie. Don’t. Lincoln pushing him down onto the bed, fumbling with his belt. That agonizing wait as his brother teased him. Stop. Finally feeling his brother’s mouth around his cock, feeling his brother’s hands all over his body, stroking, touching… Please don’t do this now. …feeling his brother inside of him, hearing him call out his name… Michael groaned as he came, pushing against T-bag’s hand insistently, lost in his own memory. He felt his whole body go weak and he slumped backwards against the wall, panting hard. T-bag stood back and smiled, wiping his hand on his pants. And Michael couldn’t help but start to cry. He didn’t want, not in front of T-bag, but he couldn’t help it. The memories of Lincoln were so fresh in his mind, so vivid. And now all that was gone. He looked away, waiting for T-bag to mock him, or make him take of his pants, but the murderer did neither. Instead he put his arm around Michael, causing him to flinch in surprise. And at that moment Michael didn’t care that it was T-bag, he just needed someone, anyone, to fill the void that Lincoln left. He wrapped his arms around the man in front of him and now it was T-bag’s turn to be surprised. This was definitely a new development. Still, T-bag wasn’t about to turn down contact from Michael, so he hugged him back. “Hush now, Pretty,” T-bag whispered as Michael cried. Then they broke away and T-bag smiled, stroking Michael’s neck. “So, you’re gonna put in that cell transfer now, aren’t you?” And Michael had no idea what made him nod his head. |