Substitution

Title: Substitution

Characters: Michael/?

Author: Cin

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own it. 'Cept for the legal part where I don't.

AAN//: Wow. I mean seriously, yikes. This is just a drabble I wrote while I was supposed to be taking notes on a lecture in Tech Math. Go figure. 511 words exactly. Try to ignore the crack Enjoy.

Anything to stop the gnawing pain eating away at his body and his mind. He lay on the bed with his eyes glued to the dark wall, running his mind ragged. Point A to point B; it was his only goal. At the start everything was so simple, even when it wasn’t. Nonsensical thoughts were slowly taking over his brain; everything was bleeding into nothingness to leave a numb hole where his everything used to be. Michael Scofield had hit a terminal wall.

He was in the middle of hell and there was no one beside him this time. No Lincoln to lean on, no Sara to comfort him, not even an Alex to fuck him anymore. Everything had been taken from him, ripped away like a hurricane though that really shouldn’t surprise him. Michael had everything in his life, and he’d had everything taken away just as quick. Everything around him now was just a buzz, figures and numbers running unconsciously though his mind as he went through the motions of the day, feeling absolutely nothing now.

It was the unpredictability that was shutting him down; Michael needed planned precision. Something that would end exactly the way he knew it would. That’s when the thought struck him. Not everything was lost. There was one thing he could still count on to go exactly how he knew it would. Getting out of bed and stalking downs the hallways of Sona, Michael already wondered if what he was doing was the right choice.

‘Of course it’s not,’ His conscious whispers, ‘but it’s all you’ve got.’ Michael had to agree. A few turns and light footsteps later, the tattooed man was right where he knew he’d end up. He leaned against the opening of the cell belonging to the one man he’d never once trusted. There was a silent moment where the two of them just looked at one another, speaking volumes when neither of them said a word.

Without a syllable they connected; the hushed whisper of clothes falling and the burn of need speaking for them. Both understood the need to be quiet, but there were moments when neither could hold back. The pain of being fucked-truly fucked-was too good for Michael, teeth sinking into his shoulder bringing new levels to his mind. There was a gasp, a moan, frantic clawing, and a chuckle before it was all over in a sudden screeching halt of shattering glass and iron wreckage, like watching your own car crash while you’re still in it. Michael felt for a moment what he imagined Maytag must have felt, the exhilarating high and then the inevitable impact, leading to one hell of a mess.

Eyes to the floor, Michael re-dressed and tried to keep his self loathing to a minimum until he was alone again.

“Thank you, Pretty.” T-Bag purred, knowing what it would do to the younger man. Sure enough there was the tell tail flinch that told the southerner what they had done just hit home. “Impulsive suits you.”

Michael was going to be sick.