![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Strictly Prison
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Fandom: Prison Break
Rating: R
Warnings: imagined incest. Sort of.
Words: 225
A/N: The picture came first, thanks to the talented and lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
talia_sparkle. I had to write about it, though I do not think I have done it justice… And the title may work better for a British audience as it refers to ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, the original format for the show that became ‘Dancing with the Stars’ in most other countries.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_with_the_Stars
Michael woke up with a stiff neck, a stiffer cock, and a disturbingly vivid recollection of his dream.
Lincoln. Not in prison garb or the jeans and sweatshirts he had worn on the outside but… Michael tried to erase the vision… in green. Lycra, nylon, something awful. Something ballroom. And that wasn’t the worst thing.
Michael himself had been wearing the matching dress. Lincoln held him close, hips, thighs and torsos fused as they moved to the music. The fabric of Michael’s dress scraping maddeningly against his skin.
Michael had learned to accept these dreams over the years. The holding, the closeness, even the sex. But the dress. The dress was new. And not good.
And yet… Michael’s cock had other ideas. Something about the play of air and the scratch of the synthetic fabric over his sensitive flesh.
Michael rolled onto his stomach. Even though the cheap prison sheets were softer than the imagined gown the friction worked. Michael rocked to the rhythm of the music he could still hear in his head.
A roll of blanket was Lincoln’s hard-on pressed against his. His own arm folded over his lower back was Lincoln’s holding him close. His grip on the pillow was Lincoln’s hand in his.
Michael wished as he came that the scratch of the sheets was anything other than an acid green gown.
Characters: Michael/Lincoln
Fandom: Prison Break
Rating: R
Warnings: imagined incest. Sort of.
Words: 225
A/N: The picture came first, thanks to the talented and lovely
talia_sparkle. I had to write about it, though I do not think I have done it justice… And the title may work better for a British audience as it refers to ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, the original format for the show that became ‘Dancing with the Stars’ in most other countries. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_with_the_Stars
Michael woke up with a stiff neck, a stiffer cock, and a disturbingly vivid recollection of his dream.
Lincoln. Not in prison garb or the jeans and sweatshirts he had worn on the outside but… Michael tried to erase the vision… in green. Lycra, nylon, something awful. Something ballroom. And that wasn’t the worst thing.
Michael himself had been wearing the matching dress. Lincoln held him close, hips, thighs and torsos fused as they moved to the music. The fabric of Michael’s dress scraping maddeningly against his skin.
Michael had learned to accept these dreams over the years. The holding, the closeness, even the sex. But the dress. The dress was new. And not good.
And yet… Michael’s cock had other ideas. Something about the play of air and the scratch of the synthetic fabric over his sensitive flesh.
Michael rolled onto his stomach. Even though the cheap prison sheets were softer than the imagined gown the friction worked. Michael rocked to the rhythm of the music he could still hear in his head.
A roll of blanket was Lincoln’s hard-on pressed against his. His own arm folded over his lower back was Lincoln’s holding him close. His grip on the pillow was Lincoln’s hand in his.
Michael wished as he came that the scratch of the sheets was anything other than an acid green gown.
(no subject)
(no subject)