Alexander

ALEXANDER
By: Anisapologist
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: An AU where Michael and Mahone knew one another before Michael went to Fox River (Yes, a BLATANT rip off of the FABULOUS Pamala’s ‘Invasion” series-but it goes in different direction, I think!J), and after he escapes, they become acquainted again.
Disclaimer: If these characters were mine, Mahone would NEVER get out of that cage!

Alexander Mahone thought that Michael Scofield was the most incredible, complicated, and desirable man he had ever met.

They had met in a bar called The Brass Bird. Michael arrived with colleagues from work, and Alex sat at the bar alone, drinking a whiskey sour and trying to summon the courage to go home to his wife and their failing marriage.

As the night progressed, and Michael’s co-workers got progressively drunker and more and more obnoxious, Michael drew away from them deftly, sitting at the bar to distance himself, and began a rather awkward conversation with the man seated beside him—Alexander Mahone, FBI agent.

It was awkward because neither man had much expertise in the field of conversation, despite being brilliant in their chosen fields. While Michael struggled with topics to discuss, Alexander smiled demurely and avoided eye contact, but as the hours past, they managed to navigate a middle ground, flashing smiles at one another, laughing at one another’s jokes.

By the end of the evening, Michael, who was gay, was convinced that Alexander was as well. He felt a burning heat in his cheeks as they walked out to their cars together. He wanted so very badly to kiss the man beside him, but he was shy and reserved and not at all forward.

Alexander shot nervous glances at Michael as they walked. He had never been with a man sexually, but had spent most of his life fantasising about it. He had the distinct feeling that Michael might be the right person to finally make his fantasy a reality, but he had no idea how to approach it.

Standing beside his car, Michael jingled his keys nervously, “It was great meeting you,” he said demurely.

“You too, Michael…I can give you my card if…”

Michael swooped forward at that point, before he could lose his nerve, and kissed Alexander. At first, he merely brushed the older man’s lips, asking a wordless question—then the other man replied by opening his mouth, and the kiss deepened instantly.

For a long time, they stayed just like that, leaning against Michael’s Acura, exploring one another’s mouths, moaning quietly. It was heady and heated.

Almost desperate to touch the younger man, Alexander boldly brought his hand up behind Michael’s head, grabbing him at the nape of the neck, and dragging himself closer, until they were chest to chest. Then he let his hand run forward, fingertips trailing down the beautiful engineer’s face and graceful, long neck.

“Would you like to come to my place?” Michael panted when the kiss ended, and Alexander nodded, smiling.


They entered Michael’s posh apartment, and Michael nearly attacked the man beside him, desire flaring.

They kissed against the front door of the apartment desperately, wantonly…until Alexander forced himself to break the kiss.

“I’ve never…done this before,” Alex admitted, blushing.

“Been with a man?” Michael asked softly with that voice of velvet.

“No…. I mean, I’ve done things with men, but…it’s been a while. I meant…I don’t pick guys up in bars.”

Michael smiled warmly and nodded, “Neither do I. There’s a first time for everything.”

“There’s something else you need to know,” Alex added, “I’m married, Michael.”

That threw Michael Scofield. Alex wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and had not mentioned a wife—not even a girlfriend—all evening.

He pause, backing away slightly, “Oh…” was all he could think to say.

Alex smiled sadly, “I’m sorry…I should have told you sooner….I don’t know why I didn’’t… Do you want me to leave?”

Michael stared at the man before him for a moment, and then shook his head.

“No…I don’t want you to leave, I just…I don’t want to hurt your marriage either….” he replied softly, looking torn.

Michael looked away and made no further moves towards the older man. Alex realised after a beat or two that Michael was waiting for him to make a move.

“My marriage has been…broken for a long time, I can assure you. Maybe this is what I need to…end it.” He offered, “I have known that I was attracted to men for some time, and….I really like you, Michael.”

Slowly, awkwardly, Alex approached the younger man, stopping when he was mere inches from the man’s body, and could almost feel the tension and the heat rising off of Michael’s body.

“I don’t want to get hurt…” Michael whispered as Alex’s lips brushed against his again tentatively.

“You won’t.” Alex promised gently.

Slowly and carefully—giving Michael every opportunity to stop him if he had wanted to—Alex bent to gently press his lips to Michael’s once more, hearing the younger man gasp slightly when their mouths met.

For a few moments, there was only the kiss. The room was silent but for the two men’s panting breath as the kiss deepened, and became wet, open, needy….and when they broke apart at last, Michael felt drunk with lust, and Alex felt giddy with desire and need so strong, he knew that he simply had to have this man; had to make love to him.

“Please, Michael…” he whispered against soft, pliant lips, not even realising he had said the words aloud, until he heard Michael’s whimpering reply.

“Yes…oh, yes…” Michael agreed.

Never breaking eye contact, Alex began to slowly unbutton Michael’s oxford shirt, running fingertips over the younger man’s chest and flat stomach, loving the way the muscles quivered under his touch. He smiled, kissing along Michael’s neck and then jaw line lightly, “You’re desperate for it…” he whispered.

Michael whimpered in reply, “You have no idea….” he answered, his voice shaking with need.

“Tell me,” Alex encouraged gently.

“Been so long…so lonely…gave up looking for anyone…” Michael said in reply and then they were kissing deeply, tongues instantly finding one another’s and entwining.

Neither Michael nor Alexander would be certain later how the evening progressed exactly, but it eventually found Michael, naked and writhing on his back, with Alex over him, also nude; their bodies pressed so closely together that it was hard to see where one man ended and the other began. Fingers, mouths and tongues explored flesh heatedly, discovering one another’s bodies, and erections slid against each other erotically until Michael came, with a harsh cry, biting the other man’s shoulder as his seed spread between their bellies.

Alexander kissed Michael deeply through his orgasm, pulling back at last, sweaty and dishevelled to stare down into his new lover’s intense blue eyes, “I want to be inside you, Michael…”

The younger man bit his bottom lip and nodded, a dazed expression of contentment on his face as Alex left the bed momentarily to find something to use for lubrication.

He returned a moment later with hand lotion from the bathroom, and paused at the sight displayed before him: Michael’s skin was sweat slicked and glowing in the light that streamed in from the windows. He lay atop the covers, his nakedness on full display, on leg bent at the knee, and the other splayed and outstretched. He looked like a Greek God.

“God….” Alex gasped, straddling the man beneath him, “You’re beautiful!”

Michael licked his lips and said nothing, watching as the older man slipped on a condom, slicked himself, then allowed Michael to lead him to his entrance with a shaking hand, “Please…” Michael begged quietly, not wanting to wait any longer.

Considering they had only met a few hours earlier, Alex found it strange that entering Michael Scofield felt so…natural; like coming home. He groaned as he breached the ring of muscle, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling as he concentrated on not coming instantly. It felt so good, so perfect.

“Michael…you’re so tight,” Alex ground out between gritted teeth, “God…you feel like heaven…”

And then words became impossible, as Alexander began to slowly, tenderly make love to the man underneath him.

When it was over, they laid side by side talking and caressing one another for a while, until Michael glanced at the clock on his bedside table, “Don’t you have to get home?” he asked sleepily.

Alexander stiffened at the comment momentarily, looking away, “Yes,” he admitted softly, “Its just that…I don’t want to go.”

He met Michael’s gaze, trying to show the sincerity of his words with his eyes. Michael smiled and nodded, “You have to.” He replied simply, “I understand.”

Not trusting himself to actually watch Alex leave the bed where he had just had the best sex of his life, Michael turned on his other side, facing away. He could feel Alex staring at his back, “Can I see you again, Michael?” Alex asked after a beat.

When Michael didn’t answer, Alex sighed gently and got out of bed. What he did not know—could not know—was that Michael had not answered because he was crying.

Tears slid down his face as he listened to the shower being turned on in the bathroom. He had finally found the perfect man—and he was married. Just his luck….as he was laying there thinking that, and feeling sorry for himself, Michael drifted off to sleep, never hearing Alex emerge from the bathroom or leave the hotel room.

When he awoke at dawn with a start, Michael opened his eyes and instantly focused them on a strange paper figure sitting on the nightstand beside his bed. Groggily, he reached out for it and took it in his hand…it was a small origami bird of some sort—swan? Crane? —made from a small piece of white paper. And there was writing on it.

Unfolding the bird carefully, Michael read the note that Alexander Mahone had left him:

Dear Michael,
Didn’t want to wake you…If I have offended you, please accept my apology—it was never my intension to do so. I so enjoyed our evening, and just hoped to see you again, even if it is just for lunch or drinks, but I can understand your reluctance.

If you change your mind, please call me at the number below, and if not, please know that this evening was very special for me, and one that I shall never forget. I wish you everything of the best…Alex


Michael smiled slightly, and read it again. He wasn’t sure what he liked best—the note’s words, the flourish of Alexander’s elegant handwriting, or the intricacy of the paper origami bird that Alex must have created standing at Michael’s bedside, watching him sleep….he laid on his back, and stared at the ceiling, trying to decide whether or not he would call.

Michael lasted exactly three days before giving in, and calling Alex Mahone.

He called him on his lunch hour, sitting in a park far from the prying ears at work.

“Michael,” Alex’s warm voice answered.

“How did you know it was me?” Michael asked, surprised.

“Lucky guess,” Alex replied mysteriously.

“So….” Michael began, unsure of what to say.

Sensing his discomfort, Alex spoke first, “I’d like to see you again, Michael. Can I?”

Michael swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, “Yes…” he whispered, closing his eyes, “When?”

“Tonight?” Alexander suggested.

Michael got hard just thinking about it, “Okay.” he stuttered, “You could..come over? To my place?”

“I’d like that very much.” Alexander replied.

Michael’s cheeks felt hot and he knew he was blushing. He felt like a schoolboy, “Seven o’clock then?” he suggested.

“I’ll be there.”

When he got home from work, Michael decided to take a shower and jack off, just to take the edge off. He was already aroused, and Alex had not even arrived yet—he didn’t want to come in his pants during dinner.

He stood under the hot spray and remembered how Alexander felt moving over him, inside him…how his hands felt on Michael’s skin…the noises he made as they coupled and writhed together…the way it felt when he came, when Alex came inside him….with a whimper, Michael spilled over his hand, then leaned against the tiles, breathing hard and trying to focus.

He emerged from the shower and dressed, then made dinner and took out a bottle of red. He sat and waited for Alexander to arrive, nervously tapping his fingers on the arm of his couch and surfing the channels of the TV.

He had hoped that masturbating would have calmed him, but if anything, he felt even more nervous and aroused.


They fucked as soon as Alex walked through Michael’s door.

Michael hadn’t planned it that way. He had made dinner for both of them, after all, and bought an expensive bottle of red wine, hoping to spend a few hours talking and getting to know Alexander better….it just didn’t work out that way.

As soon as he opened his door and saw Alex again, Michael’s knees felt weak with desire. He launched himself at the older man wantonly, surprising himself as much as he did Alex. Not that the other man was complaining. He responded just as enthusiastically, both of them tearing each other’s clothes off in their rush to feel skin against skin.

No words, just heavy breathing and soft gasps. They fell to the floor, grabbing and writhing against one another, grinding, exploring, touching, fucking…

And it was fucking, not making love—nothing like the last time.

This time, both men rutted like wild animals, Alex taking Michael roughly from behind, while Michael grunted on his hands and knees-- grasping, biting, clutching desperately; when he came, Michael screamed almost as if he were in as much pain as ecstasy, and Alex followed moments later with a guttural moan that was primal in its intensity.

When it was over, they lay naked and sweaty on Michael’s living room floor, just a few feet from the front door. They calmed and came back to themselves, lay entangled in one another, kissing and stroking one another gently. Michael had never felt so safe….

“Wow…” Alexander said at last, smiling, and Michael blushed, embarrassed by his eagerness, “Don’t be embarrassed, Michael….if you hadn’t jumped me, I would have done it to you. You are all….ALL…I’ve thought about since I saw you last.”

Shyly, the other man nuzzled against Alex’s neck, kissing it tenderly, “Me too…” he admitted softly, “I made dinner, but…”

Alex cocked an eyebrow.

“I just…want to hold you for a bit longer—maybe in bed?” Michael finished.

Alex laughed out loud, “Yes, I’m much too old for this on the floor shit!”

They wondered into Michael’s bedroom, and for the first time, Alexander noticed the framed photo.

“Is that your mother?” Alex asked gently, looking at the photo on Michael’s bedside table.

“Yes,” Michael replied, “That’s just before she got sick. I was…ten, I think.”

“She was sick?” Alex raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah…” Michael looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, “She had cancer…she died when I was eleven years old. I never knew my dad, so my brother raised me.”

Alex was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to that.

“Is the other boy your brother?” he finally managed.

“Yes. His name’s Lincoln. He was fourteen then. When my mom died, he took care of me. My dad was a drunk…left us when I was a baby, and we didn’t have any other family, so….when Linc turned sixteen, he became an emancipated minor and my legal guardian.”

“Wow.” Alex considered the story that Michael had just shared with him, “You must be close then?”

Michael looked away with a pained expression, “Not really…not anymore. We were, but….he’s just so different from me. He’s into drugs and…can’t hold a job. He had to drop out of school to look after me, so I know it’s not all his fault, but….he’s been in trouble with the law. Gone to prison…it’s not… I don’t know what it is.”

They reclined together on the bed, Michael resting his head on Alexander’s chest, and the older man wrapping an arm around Michael’s back in an intimate gesture.

Alex studied Michael for a moment, sensing the pain in the younger man, “I’m sorry,” he said after a beat.

Michael Scofield managed a sad smile, “Not your problem…. So, how long have you been married?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to look pained, “Ummm…four years.”

“Do you have kids?”

“No.”

“Do you love her?” Michael pressed gently, avoiding Alex’s eyes and concentrating on caressing his ribs instead, feeling the older man shift uncomfortably beneath him.

He answered as honestly as he could, “I thought I did, but….I’ve always suspected that I liked men, and….I got married for the wrong reasons—to fit in, because I thought it was the thing to do…now? I don’t know what to do. Especially since I met you, I don’t know what to think. I want to end things with her, but…”

Michael scoffed quietly, “So, you want to have your cake and eat it too?” he said a bit bitterly.

“Hey!” Alex’s sharp tone forced Michael to look up at him, “That’s not what this is for me…I need you to know that.”

“Then what is this for you?” Michael challenged in a calm voice, the pain in it obvious anyway.

Alex stared at him before replying, “It’s… special. Different. It scares me.”

He knew it sounded cliché, but he meant it.

Michael looked up at him longingly; like he wanted to believe him.

“It scares me too.” He admitted, “I don’t want to get hurt.”

Alexander took Michael’s face in the palms of his hands, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

They made love again while dinner got ever colder.


****

Lincoln Burrows did not take kindly to the news that his little brother was seeing a married man. But then, Lincoln never really took kindly to any news about Michael’s life. The younger brother sometimes felt that his older brother saw Michael as someone to go to for advice he never took, and money that he never paid back. He wasn’t his own person, with a life of his own—he was Lincoln’s babysitter. It was as if the years that he had cared for Michael had come full circle now, and Michael was expected to care for Lincoln.

It was another Saturday afternoon. Lincoln had come by under the guise of watching the game on TV with Michael—which was simply Linc-code for coming over to borrow some money.

He reeked of beer as soon as Michael opened the door to him, and the younger man bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something he would regret as he let Lincoln in without a word.

Earlier that day, he had sent Alexander home, explaining that Lincoln was coming over. When Alex had protested, saying he would like to meet the older man, Michael had flat out refused.

“No, you don’t—believe me,” Michael had replied, “He’ll be drunk…or worse, and…I don’t want you to see him like that.”

“When can I meet him?” Alexander had pressed, and Michael had rolled his eyes.

“Never?” he tried to joke, sounding sour, “Won’t your wife wonder where you are anyway?”

“She stopped asking where I’ve been or who I’ve been with a long time ago, Michael.” Alex assured him.

Michael kissed Alex impulsively, deeply, groaning when he had to pull away for air, “You can meet him…just—not today, okay?”

Alex smiled understandingly and nodded, “Call me later?”

“Sure.” Michael promised.

Now, Lincoln was on his third beer since he had arrived at Michael’s, and his little brother sat across from him, ignoring his brother and the game in favour of the newspaper. He would much rather be with Alexander right now, but he had his wife, --even if it wasn’t a real marriage--and Michael? Michael had his drunken brother…it was all he had ever had.

“I’m seeing someone,” Michael said, trying to sound casual.

The subject of Michael’s sexuality was always a minefield for the brothers.

Sometimes, Michael could talk about it quite openly, and Lincoln didn’t seem to care about his preference for men—other times, often when he was drunk or stoned, Lincoln could snarl at him, even call him names—so Michael wasn’t quite sure why he chose now--when he knew Linc was three sheets to the wind, to share his news with his brother—maybe he wanted to pick a fight. Maybe he’d had enough of Lincoln. Maybe…whatever.

“Oh, yeah?” Lincoln replied, paying more attention to the game then to Michael.

“Yeah…his name’s Alex. He’s an FBI agent here in Chicago…”

Lincoln cocked an eyebrow—Michael knew how he felt about law enforcement.

“He’s…great. It’s just…” Michael did not want to continue suddenly.

Lincoln cracked a small grin, “What?” he asked, interested now.

“He’s…married. I mean, he wants to get a divorce, but…”

Lincoln’s face contorted into a scowl, and he cut Michael off, “What? Are you crazy or just stupid, Michael?”

The words stung more than they should have—Michael had always suspected he was both.

“Every guy—gay or straight—when they’re cheating, they always tell the other girl or guy that they are leaving their partner! And they never do! He’s not gonna leave his wife for you, Mikey…get that much through your head.”

Michael glared at his brother, “You don’t know him…”

“I know the type.” Lincoln growled, taking a gulp of his beer dismissively, “You’re gonna get your heart broken, Mike—mark my words. You are so fucking trusting!”

“Like it’s a bad thing to trust people?” Michael shot back defensively.

“Sometimes it is! He’s married for fuck’s sake!” Lincoln sneered at him.

“Oh, like you can talk—the guy who knocked one girl while still supposedly dating another!” Michael’s words were bitter and angry, like their relationship—poisoned with too much bad blood.

Lincoln gave his brother a nasty glance, “I’ve never slept with a married woman!” he snorted.

“I find that extremely difficult to believe.” Michael replied dryly, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

“What?” Lincoln bellowed, clearly offended, “You know what, Mike? I don’t give a rat’s ass what you find difficult to believe! Besides, he’s a fucking cop, Michael!”

“He’s an FBI agent.” Michael corrected.

“Same fucking thing! They’re all pigs! Just…different badges…” Lincoln waved his hand dismissively.

Michael looked up from his paper at last, “Your point?”

“My point? My fucking point is that he’s a cop, Mike—and you know what kind of hell they’ve put me through…they’re the fucking enemy, Michael!”

“Your enemy, Linc—not mine. I don’t break the law, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to worry about the cops either.” Michael said curtly.

Michael’s words were cutting and cold. Lincoln just stared at him in shock, “Fuck you, Michael! So, what? Are you just seeing this guy because he’s a cop, and you knew it would piss me off? Is that was this is about?”

“No! Jesus, Lincoln—the world doesn’t revolve around you, you know!”

“No, it revolves around you!” Lincoln thundered back, “You and your ritzy apartment, and your snob friends, and your Five hundred dollar suits! And now your FBI boyfriend!”

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this,” Michael went on, exhausted, “Why shouldn’t every argument come back to my success—and your jealousy of it? And why should I expect you to ever be happy for me?”

Lincoln rolled his eyes, “You want me to tell you that I’m happy for you because you’ve found true love with a married FBI agent? Fine, Michael: I’m happy for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Lincoln—that sounded so sincere, and it means so much to me.” Michael replied sarcastically as Lincoln stood up, and walked out of the apartment.

“Fuck you, Michael…” he said over his shoulder as he left.

“Yeah, fine…go now. You got what you wanted—you got your money! All you care about, right? The only reason you even talk to me is to take my money! Go spend it on your precious drugs, Linc! I know how much they mean to you!” Michael snapped.

The front door slammed. Michael did not even bother to look up as Lincoln stormed out.

It had been two months of gentle and passionate lovemaking every few nights.

Sometimes they went out to dinner. Sometimes a movie or the theatre. They found that they shared a great deal in common, liking the same things; disliking the same things. Even their political leanings were similar.

They spent hours and hours talking, debating, discussing….but always ended up back at Michael’s place—or Alexander’s newly rented apartment—writhing against one another, naked and sweat slicked and desperate, until they both came with one another’s names on their lips.

Lincoln had been wrong—Alexander had separated from his wife. And while they were not yet living together, the two men were growing closer everyday.

But not close enough for Alexander.

He sensed a fear in Michael —a fear of intimacy, and a fear of allowing anyone to get too close, to see the real Michael. He still had not allowed his lover to meet Lincoln, or his son, LJ. Alex knew that part of the reason was that Michael was embarrassed by Lincoln, but he also knew that was not the entire story. He knew somehow that Michael feared losing Alex for some reason, and didn’t want to introduce him to family or friends that he might have to face later, when Alexander left him.

Michael would make little comments; say things that caused the older man to think that Michael Scofield was not the cool, calm, confident man that he pretended to be.

Sometimes, after they’d made love and were laying in bed together, Michael would ask Alex about his past lovers, but when Alex asked the same in return, Michael would demur, saying only, “There’s never been anyone for me…not really. I’ve slept with people, but…it wasn’t…like this.”

Alexander found that unbelievable, as Michael was beautiful and successful, and he told him so, but Michael would just shake his head and look so very sad and lonely, and then he would say something like, “People don’t stay in my life—they never have. They get sick of me. I’m difficult to live with, to be around…. I have…problems. They leave.”

“And do you think I’ll leave?” Alex asked him one night after one such conversation.

Michael did not look at him, just stared into space, “Won’t you?” he said, more of a statement then a question.

“I don’t want too…” Alex offered.

Michael fixed him with an icy look, “You will.”


It bothered Alexander that Michael never made plans with him more than a week or two in advance. Once he asked Michael, in August, if he wanted to go away skiing for Christmas. Michael shot him a look and said only, “Don’t you think you’ll be tired of me by December?”

He said it in a way that could have been taken as a joke—but Alexander knew better.

He knelt between Michael’s legs and looked up at his lover, “Why are you like this?” he asked simply.

Michael feigned ignorance, “Like what?”

Alexander reached up and stroked Michael’s cheek lovingly, “Insecure. So certain that I’m going to leave you. So certain that everyone is going to leave you?”

Michael stared back evenly, “Because everyone always does.”

Alex shook his head, “Lincoln is still in your life, still with you.” He offered.

Michael’s face clouded over with stormy emotions and he blinked hard to hold back sudden tears. He tried to laugh, but it came out as something between a snort and a cough, “Lincoln?” he said incredulously, “Lincoln left me years ago…”

The bitterness that Alexander heard in those words scared him, and he backed off.

After that day, he didn’t talk about the future with Michael Scofield anymore.

One night, as Alexander made dinner in Michael’s elegant kitchen, the house line rang. Both men jumped at the sound, because no one ever rang on that number. But Michael had turned off his cell phone that afternoon, trying to duck the increasingly angry-- and by turns desperate-- calls from Lincoln, who needed money… again.

Michael didn’t have to look at his Caller ID to know who was calling. He bit his lip and steeled himself, answering the phone and walking out of the kitchen, out of Alexander’s earshot. He returned looking visibly upset.

“Who was on the phone?” Alex asked mildly as Michael quickly replaced the receiver, already knowing the answer.

Michael regarded him for a moment before answering, “My brother…” he said softly.

“What did he want?”

Michael shook his head, clearly upset, “I don’t want to talk about it…”

Walking up to Alexander, Michael took him by the hands, leading him to the bedroom, with a smoky look in his eyes.

“You know,” Alex joked, “We’re both going to starve to death is we don’t start actually eating these dinners we always prepare.”

“Please…” Michael breathed, needy. He wanted to forget about Lincoln, about the phone calls…about everything except Alexander Mahone, “Make love to me…”

Alex caressed Michael as he undressed him. He had, of course, noticed that Michael used sex as a diversionary tactic—taking Alexander to bed whenever a topic came up that made him feel uneasy—and that topic was frequently Lincoln.

It made Alex uneasy, but he felt so much attraction to Michael that he fell for it every single time. He simply could not resist a chance to touch and caress that perfect body.

Michael trembled with delight at the caress, eyes fluttering closed, and Alex thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

He made love to Michael with a tenderness he had not known he possessed—more loving then he had ever been with another person, even his wife. He tried to show the younger man, with his body, what he felt for him in his heart, and when he came, buried to the hilt in the beautiful man beneath him, he could not help the words that fell from his lips, “I love you, Michael…”

He collapsed against his lover, kissing Michael’s neck possessively, listening to the other man’s moans. Michael came moments later, into his lover’s hand, “Love you, Alex,” he gasped.


It was late, and they were dozing together in Michael’s bed when Alex reached out to stroke his cheek. Michael opened his eyes and smiled, “Hey…”


“Tell me about Lincoln,” Alex pressed lightly.

Michael’s smile faded instantly and he snorted, pulling away from the older man’s touch.

“Why do you want to know so much about him? We’re not close.” Michael said scornfully, “Is the FBI interested in him now or something?”

Alex laughed at Michael’s suggestion, “I can honestly say that Lincoln Scofield is not on my to-do list!”

“Burrows.” Michael corrected.

“What?” Alex knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

“His last name is Burrows. He took my dad’s last name—I took my mother’s.”

“Oh, sorry. Okay, then…no, I am not planning on arresting Lincoln Burrows, I promise you. I just…want to know about you, and Lincoln is part of you.”

Michael felt badly for how he had acted, and smiled contritely, “Sorry…. It’s just….what do you want to know about him?”

“What does he do?” Alex asked innocently, and Michael winced in reaction.

“He’s….” Michael stammered, and Alex grew alarmed as he watched Michael’s agitation grow, “not working right now. He just got out of jail—again. He was in for battery. I’ve been…helping him with money till he finds a job. That’s why he called…for more money. He always calls for more money…”

Michael’s face was a mask of anger and resentment.

Alex frowned, running the back of his fingers down Michael’s cheek tenderly,” Talk to me, Michael…let me in.”

For a moment, he considered it—but then decided not to burden his lover with the story of him and Lincoln. How could he even begin to explain the complicated relationship they shared? That’s what his therapist was for.

Tears began to drift slowly down his face, but Michael did not bother to wipe them away, “I can’t…” he shook his head slowly, “I’m sorry, I just…can’t…talk about him. Please can we just forget he called?”

Alex sighed audibly, and stood up, rummaging for his clothing in the darkness, “Okay. I am sorry I upset you…. I should probably get going…I have laundry to do, and the cat needs to be fed.”

“Don’t be mad, Alex…” Michael begged in a small voice, making him sound like a child, “It’s not you…it’s just…I don’t talk to anyone about Linc…”

Alexander turned and smiled somewhat sadly, “It’s all right, Michael—we all have our dirty little secrets.”

There was something there, below the surface that Michael wanted to question in Alex’s statement—something in the haunted eyes of the agent—but it was late and Michael Scofield was emotionally and physically drained.

Michael managed a small smile, “ See you tomorrow?”

Alex smiled and kissed Michael gently, “Count on it.”

TBC...