I hate you being so beautiful

A/N: This story is slightly AU. As we all know, Maytag used to be a jealous little thing. In this story, he decides to set a little revenge on Michael. T-Bag finds out and gets angry. Maytag/Michael, T-Bag/Michael, mentions of T-Bag/Maytag.
You all should also know that english is not my mother language, so there may be some grammatural mistakes and such, since I don't have a betareader. But I try my best, I promise!
Now, to the warnings: This story contains HIGHLY DISTURBING MATERIAL, such as necrophilia, non-con, torture, extreme language, humiliation and violence. There will also be a character death. Description with all of these are going to be quite graphic, it's up to you if you want to read or not. There will be also yaoi, lemon and PWP. And Maytag acts like he's a little bit insane, you'll see.
So, if any of those above offences you or it aren't just your cup of tea, go back. I've warned you. And I would also appreciate some feedback, since I'm planning to continue this. I'd like to know if I have readers at all and what do you think. Thank you, enjoy, straight to the business. :)

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Maytag's face is red with fury and so close, too close to him, he can't move, can't breathe, can't *think*, and he struggles against the heavy body that is top of him, that is screaming and pulling and hitting and hurting, and he just can't get away. He can't remember how he end up to this small, dark storage, because the last thing he remembers is the Mess. He remembers that gray, overcooked chickenmeal (the smell was disgusting), remembers talking to Westmoreland and remembers Abruzzi's and T-Bag's eyes staining on his back, but then it's all black. The only thing he knows that he has to get away, has to escape T-Bag's shrieking subordinate. He has no time to think properly, wonder what Maytag is planning to do to him, but he knows already that it's not going to be anything exactly nice.
Maytag keeps on yelling and backhands his face, hard, and the other hand is ripping the clothes off of his aching body, tying his hands together to his back with his own shoelashes (painfully tight) scratching and drooling and accusing and hating. And Maytag is like an animal, like a mad dog, Michael thinks as Maytag sunk his teeth to the side of his neck. (Hard enough to draw blood, but then again, that is the point, isn't it? The blood - his blood on the steelhard, cold floor.) His vision blurrs and that screaming *hurts*.

"Maytag, what are you - "

"Shut up! Shut UP! He is mine! He loves me - me, not you, bitch! Why do you have to try to steal him from me? He is the only thing I got here! You fucking stupid *whore*!"

Michael can't believe this is happening. He knew Maytag was jealous, he knew that look in his eyes, filled with hatred whenever T-Bag started to flirt with him. But he never saw *this* coming. Michael aren't quite sure should he laugh or cry. Instead he shouts back.

"You...you are mad, Maytag! Get off me! I don't want him, I never will! T-Bag is sick, disgusting murderer who manipulates people like you - people who are stupid enough to believe that he loves them! He's cold-blooded killer who's just using other human beings and I would never - "

"Be quiet, slut! You talk like you are too *good* for him - like he's not good enough to *you*? Don't you dare to talk about him like that, bitch, don't you fuckin *dare*", Maytag hisses as he shoves his fingers down to the Michael's throat, silencing him. Michael turns his head to the side, struggling to get Maytag's fingers out of his mouth, but Maytag just pushes deeper, determined, feverish, smirking as he feels the soft muscle of Michael's tongue twitch and spasm against his fingers, enjoying the horrible, gagging sound and growing panic in Michael's wide eyes. Michael, choking, does the only thing he can think to, and bites down, as hard as he can. Maytag shrieks, pulls back with a startled jums, glancing at broken skin of his fingers. He lets out a laugh, near hysteric.

"You *bit* me", he whispers, staring the blood running slowly down from his fingers to his wrist. He laughs again, giggles actually, with a manic look in his eyes and that is the moment Michael really starts to fear. Maytag is crazy, utterly insane. He has to get out of here, now. He fights with all he's got, pulling all his strength together, but Maytag's body remains top of him. Michael's eyes goes horrified as Maytag starts to undo his pants, mumbling as he does so.
"....liked to bite, too, he liked to bite me, liked all that blood and all those marks, all those marks and I want more...he calls you Pretty, you know that, never called me that, never, but he loves me, yes, yes he does...loves me, only me, HE LOVES *ME*, YOU HEAR?"

Maytag smirks as he studies Michael's scared face a while, all that wild-eyed, delicate, terrified beauty underneath him, leans in and whispers:
"Yeah, he is right... You are pretty, far too pretty to this place... No wonder why they all are buzzling around you like some bees in a cup of honey. No wonder..."
Maytag caresses Michael's cheek, other hand goes to his throat as quickly as striking snake as Michael tries to avoid the touch.

"I just want to know, why you're trying to take the only thing that I have, when you could have *any* man in this prison you want? I've heard that *Abruzzi* himself has a thing for you, T-Bag told me....wasn't happy, not at all. You bitch, you got him mad... He doesn't love you, oh no, he only wants to fuck you, nothing else, no no no, 'cause *I'm* he's girl. You can't take that away from me just with fluttering your eyelashes, slut. You may be pretty, he may want you, but *I'm not going to let it happen*."

With these words, Maytag rips off Michael's underwear and turns him to his stomach.

"I am going to fuck you now."

Suddenly his voice is calm, those words are spoken with a matter-of-fact-tone that sends chills down to Michael's spine, and he closes his eyes, shudders in cold and waits. Maytag smiles softly, slicks himself with his own spit and Michael's earlier, desperate tears, settles himself into better position, eyes empty and staring, with a smirk on his face and drool in corner of his mouth. Maytag kisses his neck, whispers "I hate you. I hate you being so beautiful", and then it happens.
He thrusts in, hard, and Michael screams.

It *hurts*, Michael thinks blurrily, grits his teeth and decides that pain is a tide, a red tide made of blood and semen and vomit and tears and sweat, all those horrible things he's drowning in. He desperatedly tries to wriggle free, but moving makes the pain worse, and Maytag's fingers are digging into his hipbones. He tries to scream, but his voice is hoarse and small, nobody hears, nobody helps, and no please don't -
Maytag moans - *he loves ME you fucking doll* - and Michael vomits into cold, hard floor that presses painfully into his cheekbone. (STOP IT, PLEASE IT HURTS)
He can taste metal in his mouth, among the taste of foreign fingers and hot tears of pain and shame, and he is not sure if it is the steel floor or his own blood. His throat is raw for useless screaming, he can't take this anymore, stop it let me go oh please *don't* -
And he lets out a long, gagging scream-sob as Maytag comes inside him.

Michael lays on a floor, trembling. He don't know how long, for he is too paralyzed, too tired, too sore and too shocked to move and to think anything else than pain and shame. He is barely aware that he is bleeding, blood and Maytag's come is trickling out of him. Once he realizes that, he gives in and starts crying openly. He shudders the feeling of Maytag's hand caressing him, sneaking down to his spine and once again he hears that insane laughter. He opens his eyes and sees Maytag sitting naked next to him, laughing and laughing and laughing, a knife in his hand. Michael's eyes grow wide when he sees the weapon and all he can think is *DON'T* and *LINCOLN*.

"You fucking whore. How you can still look so goddamn beautiful, after all I've done to you? That's unfair, it is. It's almost a shame to kill such a pretty creature, but as T-Bag once told me, you are too beautiful to walk among the living. I was *so* jealous back then, but I don't think T-Bag is so interested in you once you are dead. But I think you'll make a quite cute corpse, too, don't you, bitch?"

To Michael's horror, Maytag is slowly standing up. He licks the holster, but Michael's wide, terrified eyes are fixed to the swift and dance of the blade. He tries to move, but the pain that was numbing to the mere throbbing, grows so intense and sharp again that he falls back to the floor with a small, agonized sound escaping his throat. Maytag smiles to him, almost kindly, and steps forward as Michael tries to crawl away from that awful, leering monster and his twisting blade.

"Don't. Pl - please. It's not... I have to...no... Don't do it, my... Please, my brother, h-he...needs... I can't, I can't die yet - Maytag, stop it. Get away from me! I - I don't... Ple-please. Don't. Don't. Don't - "

His words are desperate - studdering, pleading, begging and so utterly pathetic, he knows, and he doesn't remember being so scared ever before. Tears are blurring his vision as he crawls away, his body and mind bleeding and hurting, his beautiful, delicate features twisting from agony and panic, his eyes similar to trapped animal's.

"You can say goodbye to your beauty, bitch. I'm gonna cut you to *pieces*. Your pretty face is going to Hell."

"I ain't agreeing, Maytag. Put that thing down before you hurt yourself, will ya?"

Both Maytag and Michael goes stiff. T-Bag is closing the door behind him and walks slowly to them. Michael whimpers and tries to get back, but he's already in the corner of a small room. Maytag looks suddenly very pale.

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A/N 2: Yeah, that was the first part. Necrophilia and character death are coming with the next chapter, if anyone wants more. I apologise, if either Michael or Maytag seemed a little bit OOC, but we really don't know how Maytag was, since he died so early in series. And Michael, well, he's just very, very scared. Can't really blame the guy. But seriously, give me some feedback so I know if this is worth continuing or not. Thanks. :)