callmetofu (callmetofu) wrote,

Watershed (Michael/Lincoln, NC-17) Part II

Title: Watershed - Part II
Author: callmetofu
Pairing/Characters: Michael/Lincoln, LJ
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Brotherslash, happy ending;
Disclaimer: Not mine
Beta:The amazing and tireless deadbeat_nymph
Summary: After saving LJ from the hands of the company, Michael, Lincoln and LJ are on the run, but finding peace isn't as easy as it might seem.
Author's Note: I really challenged myself to write something with a happy ending for once. I hope I succeeded.

read part I

His legs felt wobbly as they hurried back to the parking space, ducking low like thieves. Michael sighed with relief when he grabbed the warm metallic door handle. Dry, hot air hit him when he opened the car and slid into the backseat. Unsure, he stared down on his hands.

“Hey, snap out of it,” Lincoln said from the front, where he switched on the A/C and Michael shot him a grateful look. He waited patiently for Lincoln to slam the door and come around to the back seat.

Climbing in, Lincoln settled against the side window. "C'mere," he mumbled, sexily, his eyes half clouded. He stretched his arm out, pulling Michael close, settling him down on his lap. Michael allowed it, letting himself sink in, his back against Lincoln's chest, shifting to find just the right position with his ass against Lincoln's crotch and his own dick throbbing not too uncomfortably in the encasement of his pants.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, when Lincoln's hand sunk down, his fingers slowly circling the tented bulge."You are gonna make this slow, aren't you?"


With few manipulations Lincoln managed to tease Michael's pants open. He eased them down, together with Michael's boxers, letting them hang loosely around Michael's knees. Lincoln's hands, so large, so familiar wandered up again. They halted right above Michael's hips, lightly brushing just against the rim of the tattoo, still hidden underneath Michael's shirt. Michael swallowed hard and then decided it was okay. Right now there were more important things to worry about.

Like wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking. It was already slick with precome from their aborted encounter. Michael sighed with contentment. About time.

Behind him Lincoln froze. Cursing how attuned they were to each other, Michael stopped his own movements. “What?” he said annoyed.

“Nothing,” Lincoln said, staring down over Michael's shoulder, transfixed by the sight. “There was something I planned on doing, but I'm beat.” He kissed the back of Michael's neck. “Oh, right, this.” He placed his hand over Michael's, moving with him in sync, then stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucking. Michael felt his mouth run dry. “I'm think I'll reassess my decision to never let you come first again,” he groaned, huskily.

“Oh yeah?”

The fingers started their journey down again, stopping to collect some precome from the top of Michael's dick. Once they disappeared between Michael's legs, curling around, Michael's head fell back. Without his own volition he began to roll his hips in anticipation, trying to spread his knees as wide as he was able to as Lincoln's hand edged closer to its goal. Lincoln's other hand squeezed down on his, sending additional pressure to his cock. If it hadn't been for Lincoln holding him steady, slowing him, he might have come on the spot.

Instead Lincoln teased him, testing his sphincter, pressing and releasing, before entering him, mercifully. A sharp pain shot through him, the lack of lubrication making itself noticeable. Lincoln sensed it and stopped, only rotating the tip of his finger, drawing tiny circles inside of Michael. His other wrapped around Michael's achingly hard cock, stroking up and down slowly and deliberately. Michael couldn't help thrusting upward into the friction. His hips jerked forward and then slammed down again, welcoming the little sting.

Without thinking, he pulled his hand away from Lincoln's grasp, leaving his brother total control over his lower body. Lincoln made a low, guttural sound of surprise and Michael's lips curled up in appreciation. They both knew how much Michael preferred to be in control. Pressing down, Michael ran his hands up his body, stroking himself, twisting his nipples through his shirt as he gyrated in Lincoln's hands. It was almost too little, not big enough, just a tease, but he knew there just wasn't enough time to get a second finger in.

Then Lincoln found the right spot and all coherent thoughts bled together as pure heat spread through him. Feverish he impelled his hand downwards again, tugging at his shirt, yearning to touch his own heated flesh. Trapped in this duality of pleasure between Lincoln's hands, his mind slowly being drained away, he caressed himself pretending that it was Lincoln, all Lincoln, spread fingers all over his belly, coarse fabric brushing against his nipples. With one hand he stroked his own throat, as he buried his face in Lincoln's. “God,” he moaned. Lincoln's ministrations grew more frenzied and Michael gave himself over to them. His own crazed pulse throbbed against his palm and he moved higher, feeling his flushed face. Then he ran his fingers over his parched, yearning lips. He teased himself for just a second before thrusting them in, sucking, needing to be filled, feeling their roughness against his tongue.

His field of vision narrowed down. Michael knew he had crossed the point of no return. He just barely felt Lincoln's groan reverberate through his body, pressed against Lincoln's chest before stars went off behind his eyes and he came groaning, shuddering into Lincoln's hand. His whole body trembled as he spent himself completely.

“Fuck,” they both said in unison.


Michael sank back on the seat and left it to Lincoln to clean up any last drops of semen that might have slipped between his finger. A feeling of contentment washed over him as he watched Lincoln crawl between the seats armoured with a wet wipe. He propped himself up on one arm to get a better look as his brain ran an automatic check on all of his body parts.

“I've got a burn in my ass,” he announced.

“Well,” Lincoln said, his tongue pressed behind his lips in deep concentration as he surveyed the back of the headrest on the driver's side. “You come like a girl.”

Michael snorted. “I think the back of your seat might want to differ.” He pulled his pants up over his thighs, and then on a whim left them open, enjoying the feeling of his genitals hanging free. It wasn't quite a summery breeze in here, but he'd take it.

Lincoln smiled at him. “Who knew my little brother could be this raunchy?”

“Satisfied?” Michael asked with a grin.

“Mmm, yes.” Lincoln cocked his head and then settled down beside him. He drew Michael into a hug close to his chest. Michael shook his head and leaned into Lincoln's embrace. They shifted awkwardly, trying to find the right way to share the same space. “Can you take your shirt off?” Michael asked quietly once they had found it.

Lincoln raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then pulled the objectionable garment over his head. With a sigh, Michael put his head down on Lincoln's chest, running his hand over the gorgeous, well defined pecs. If he still didn't feel comfortable in his own skin, at least he could enjoy Lincoln's. Leaning in he pressed an open mouthed kiss right above the nipple. He watched it, then lapped across it softly, taking in the taste and texture before rubbing against it with his nose. They both were too spent and tired to initiate anything, so Michael only searched for the perfect position to doze and this felt remarkably like comfort. He listened as Lincoln's breaths got deeper and his arm tightened around Michael's shoulder.

"Maybe we should invest in tinted windows."

"No," Lincoln said. "Too much of a risk. LJ wouldn't be able to see who's coming."

Of course.

Closing his eyes, Michael pressed his nose against Lincoln's chest again let himself sink. It was a deliberate process, the shutting down of every stage of alertness, forcing himself to remember that they were safe. Lincoln tasted warm and salty against his lips. He had one leg slung around Lincoln's. A patch of sunlight rested on Lincoln's chest. Michael could feel the difference when he ran his hand across it, even with his eyes shut. His cheek went up and down with every one of Lincoln's breaths.

A few isolated sparse strands of hair curled on Lincoln's chest and Michael weaved his fingers through them. He flinched when Lincoln's hand shot up and grabbed his, pinning it down. His wrist burned where Lincoln's fingers encircled it and he froze.

After a couple of seconds Lincoln slowly opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Look,” Michael said. “Let's just... rest, okay?”

Lincoln nodded and let go of Michael's hand. Uneasily Michael settled back into his previous position. And like this they dozed off.


“Where are you going?”

Michael shrugged. “Just for a walk.”

Lincoln eyed him dubiously. He reached for his shirt, but stopped when Michael tensed. Slowly he sank back into the cushion.

“How long?”

“Not too long.”

With a sigh, Lincoln ran his hand over his shorn head. “Stay in the area, 'kay?”

“Never planned it any other way.”

Turning his back, Michael threw the car door shut and stepped out into the light. As he walked away, he felt Lincoln's questioning look against the back of his neck. The fine gravel gnashed under his feet as he drew a wide circle to the back of the main building. Behind the soccer fields and the general sports area the administration had left a small undergrowth. Michael breathed in deeply and stepped inside.

It was the only space on the whole estate the gardeners visited rarely. Rather than being cut down periodically it was left in a semi wild state. It seemed somebody in the administration thought it would be educational to have their own perfectly preserved piece of jungle should any of their students be so sheltered that they had never seen one.

Large hanging trees offered welcoming shade. Michael felt at peace here. The scrub forest wasn't large enough to support a highly diverse selection of animal life, but Michael preferred that it was quiet aside from the ever buzzing sound of insects and the occasional interruption by the flight of a bird. Even inside here the heat was sweltering. He leaned against the trunk of a large grumichama tree and then sunk down slowly. His joints creaked as he squatted, the tree's bark biting into his back. A sigh rippled through his whole body.

Despite his post-coital bravado, he had known that something was wrong. What they were doing now was different. Free. Willing. In broad daylight. Out of want, not necessity. Michael bit his lips and pressed his palms against his brow. There was less room to hide now in the darkness and behind their excuses. Exasperated, he drew his hand over his face.

What he knew was this: They meshed well, sexually. Very well. A fact that he still tried very hard not to think about, not to think about what that meant. He'd let himself go. Given too much, too quickly. Revealed too much.

He had asked for this, but the ray of optimism he'd felt this morning was gone. He'd done it wrong. They fell into place too easily and it betrayed everything he believed in. Laughing joylessly, he grabbed a wooden stick from the floor and threw it. If the last year had taught him anything, it was that nothing ever fell into place.


When he emerged from the undergrowth, Lincoln was there, hands thrust in his pockets, waiting maybe twenty feet away. Michael closed up to him.

Lincoln jerked his head. “You wanna talk?”


They walked beside each other.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“What's it to you?”

Michael gave him one of those looks and then shrugged.

“Ten minutes tops,” he looked to the side, avoiding Michael's gaze. “I get queasy when I don't know where you are.”

“How much longer?”

“Don't you have a watch? About an hour. LJ just sent me a text. He's fine.”

Michael put his hand casually on Lincoln's arm. Lincoln froze. Michael had learned a long time ago that it was Lincoln's nature to be expecting bad news constantly. At least this part wasn't new. “I got something I want to show you,” he said.

He led Lincoln to the back of the building, where it threw an odd corner, creating a niche between the short back wall and an even shorter side wall, barely twelve feet long. Leaning against it, he turned to his brother. He closed his eyes. Right now, he just wanted lose himself in Lincoln.

“C'mere,” he murmured and pulled his brother close, his hand on the nape of Lincoln's neck. “Closer,” and Lincoln pushed his body flush against Michael, pressing him back against the wall. Michael gave in to the embrace. One arm around Lincoln's shoulders and with his hand stroking Lincoln's head, he buried his nose in the hollow of Lincoln's throat. The skin there was warm, familiar, light stubble grazing against his lips. He sighed with pleasure. At least this was a true love, a pure one, born way back in the moment when Lincoln let him sit by and watch while Lincoln had his first shave.

Slowly he ran his hands down the curve of Lincoln's back. They found Lincoln's ass, grabbed and squeezed. He sensed a smile form on Lincoln's lips and quickly raised his head to spread kisses on the underside of Lincoln's throat.

“This place, I wanna do it here,” Michael rasped.

Their bodies were so close together, rocking up against each other. They communicated in hushed whispers, barely louder than a breath. “You sure that's safe?”

“I've been here before, the only windows are right up, we'd only be seen if somebody looked straight down and there's always the window sill. And next to us,” he closed his arms around Lincoln's back again, meeting every maddening little thrust of Lincoln's hips, “is the kitchen.” He'd thought it over. Chances were good nobody would see them, or anybody, in this corner of the building.

“You always scout for sex places when you walk around?”

“No,” he said quickly, the rhythm of their bodies now almost hypnotic, starting to drain all blood from his head as he ground his words out between clenched teeth. “Just thought it might be a place where someone might be able to hide.”

“How?” Lincoln rasped, drawing his hands over Michael's ass. It felt nice. So nice.

Placing his palms against Lincoln's shoulders, Michael pushed him back. He ran one finger over Lincoln's lips. “You got something for me?” Lincoln reached his hand into his back pocket, almost sheepishly, and then held the little package in front of him.

Michael nodded and without any pretense slipped his jeans down and stepped out of them. Lincoln blinked at him for a moment and then moved quickly to unzip his pants and rid himself of his shirt. Even so, he wasn't fast enough. Ripping the lube open with his teeth Michael poured the colorless liquid into his hands. His hands found Lincoln's dick. Seconds bled into each other as he stroked and coated it, teasing Lincoln over the brink of no resistance.

“Now,” Michael whispered. With Lincoln's help he slung his legs around Lincoln's midriff and clasped hiss shoulders for balance. The white mural felt cool even though his shirt. He waited for Lincoln, who had one hand steadying Michael's ass, the other one wrapped around his own dick trying to push in.

“We really should have...” Lincoln started but Michael pinched him, and then with a groan of relief, Lincoln slid inside. Michael's legs automatically tightened around Lincoln's waist and they rocked together, working for each additional inch. Michael could see the sweat streaming down Lincoln's face and the way those heavy muscles worked. “What,” Lincoln hissed, “do you get out of this?” and Michael pinched him again. Lincoln braced himself against the wall, his palm next to Michael's cheek and thrust forward. Apparently he had decided that this was as deep is it would go and began working Michael in earnest.

They almost lost their footing when Lincoln tried to reach for Michael's dick and so Michael signaled him no. This was how he wanted it. His shoulder blades braced into the corner against two walls, Lincoln's hand on his ass as he slid in and out, his own hands on Lincoln's hard, familiar shoulders, his legs wrapped around Linc's torso. It was an immaculate agony, the shudders of perfection when Lincoln hit his prostate, the knowledge they they both could come crashing down at any moment, just holding on to the brink as he urged Lincoln on and Lincoln drove him into the wall with each thrust.

Michael's breath started to come in short, helpless gasps. Rivulets of sweat poured down their bodies till he couldn't stand it any longer. He dropped his hand, almost crashing sideways, only the side wall holding him up. Twisting his body, he pushed back onto Lincoln's cock, his hand wrapped around his own. Nearly dying from the heat, he brought himself off with a few furious jerks, quick and dirty, losing himself. His mouth went dry and his legs trembled like he had been shocked. He let himself be taken as Lincoln hissed and intensified his effort as he felt Michael beginning to slip. He came with one last, powerful thrust, shuddering, his hands digging into Michael's ass, his spine arched.

Before his tremors had even completely subsided, he slipped one arm under Michael's side, to keep him from sinking onto the floor. Leaning his head against the wall he pulled Michael up against him and Michael felt the loss of Lincoln's dick slipping from his body like a sting.

He slipped his arms around Lincoln's sweat glazed back and kissed his throat, tasting salt. It took a while before either of them caught their breath again.


“You're lucky you had an extra shirt,” Lincoln commented and slipped his shades on again.

LJ appeared in front them, his cheeks flushed, his hair bopping as he ran, and Lincoln stepped out the the car to greet him. Michael smiled and waved. Lincoln's arm went easily around the boy's shoulder and Michael could see him talking down on his son affectionately, the teen a full head shorter than his father. He knew that Lincoln made a habit of telling LJ he loved him, as often as he could. Almost awkwardly LJ pulled from Lincoln's grasp, punching him playfully in the shoulder. He was looking down, his cheeks bright red, but still looked happy. Lincoln slapped him on the back and led him back to the car.

With a pout, LJ slid into the back. “Why do I never get to sit up front?”

Michael smiled. “Sorry buddy.”

They exchanged a playful handshake - LJ had separate ones for him and Lincoln - and the boy wrapped his hand around Lincoln's headrest.

“Seat belt,” Lincoln declared, reaching for the ignition.

LJ rolled his eyes and then did as ordered. “How long were you out there today?” he wanted to know. “I didn't see you.”

Michael turned around, smiling sweetly. “We were there, just walking around the area.” The answer seemed to satisfy LJ. He looked out of the window and tapped his finger on his bag.

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” Lincoln asked, not taking his hands off the steering wheel.

LJ lowered his eyes. “Naw, it's stupid.”

Lincoln turned his head and he and Michael shared a pointed look. “So,” Michael started, changing the subject. “I heard you want to drive?”

“Like he would ever let me.”

“How about now?”

Michael arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“I'm serious,” Lincoln said. He pulled over. They hadn't gotten too far. The street was nearly empty. The school lay on private land, on the outskirts of the city and the majority of both staff and students stayed overnight during the week. LJ stared at his father, aghast, and then darted up from his seat worried that Lincoln might change his mind again.

Lincoln threw Michael a grin and pushed the door open. Mouth hanging open in excitement, LJ sank down on the driver's seat. Michael watched, amused at how the young boy clasped the steering wheel like it was a sacred relic.

Meanwhile, Lincoln had circled around. Wrapping one arm around Michael's middle, he lifted him off his seat, before sliding in himself. Then he pulled Michael down on his lap and threw the door shut.

“Now drive.”

“Hell yeah!”

Michael stared in mock horror as LJ hit the wrong gear. He couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled up inside of him as the car lurched forward and the engine died a sputtering death.

We are not wearing any seat belt,” Lincoln announced, his hand resting on Michael's leg. “Crash the car and I'll make you an orphan.”

“That doesn't even make any sense,” LJ shot back and Michael gave him a high five. “He's right you know,” he murmured towards Lincoln, feeling a light tug on his thigh. He leaned over, selecting the first gear for his nephew.

LJ hit the pedals and with another lurch the faithful jeep jumped into motion. Lincoln's full, deep laughter filled the interior, joining LJ's cheers of victory as the car hobbled down the street. Lincoln's arm tightened around Michael and seeing the boy completely engrossed by the road in front of him, Michael allowed himself to drop his hand and let it rest on Lincoln's.


“So, what is it?” Lincoln started as as the three of them lazed around, the deck just large enough for their three chairs squeezed together.

LJ turned his head and sipped on the pint sized glass of beer that Lincoln allowed him drink every once in a while when he was with them. Michael smiled. It wasn't that Lincoln truly disapproved of underage drinking. He just took the position that LJ would have to find ways to do it secretly with his peers just like any other teenager. Till he did, this would have to be enough.

“What is what?”

“What you didn't want to tell me today in the car,” Lincoln grinned. “Before we let you manhandle our poor car.”

In response, LJ stuck his tongue out and Lincoln reached over to ruffle his son's hair till the poor kid's head was buzzing. Then Lincoln dropped his hand.

“It's nothing serious, is it?”

“No, no, it's not that."

Hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them, LJ stared out into the ocean. “I guess it's a kind of prom,” he finally volunteered. He thrust is legs back on the deck. “It's stupid anyway. I don't really know anybody yet. Seems like they take it all serious and... ” Lincoln shot him a warning look and LJ stopped before the cussword slipped out. “With dancing and stuff like that.”

“Well, do you want to go?”

“Of course not!” LJ said a bit too quickly.

Lincoln shot Michael a knowing look and brought his bottle of Corona to his lips again. He smiled evilly.

“You know LJ, your uncle Mike actually knows how to ballroom dance.”

Michael did a double take. “Do not!”

Lincoln laughed. “Sure you do." He turned back to LJ. "I'm sure he could show you,” he added with obvious mischief in his voice.

“There is no way in hell that...”


“Okay, left foot back, then right to the side and close. Right foot forward, to the side and close. Got it?” He clasped his nephew's hands more tightly, about to move.

LJ blocked and eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you aren't teaching me girls' steps?”

“What?” Michael looked down at their feet. “I think in this one the men's steps and the girls' steps are identical.”

LJ seemed unconvinced.

“Come on. Back, side, close, forward, side, close.”

Behind him he could hear Lincoln chuckle.

“How is that supposed to work,” LJ whined.

“Look, once you have settled into the base step, you make one side step small and the next one wide. Like this.”

He twirled LJ around once, his brother now freely in his line of sight. Lincoln quickly pretended to turn his attention back to the table, working swiftly to remove the last remains of their dinner. Michael could tell that he was hiding a secret smile. Quickly he took LJ for another spin, a full one this time, barely realizing when he stepped on the youth's feet.

“Daaaad, Michael won't let me lead.”

Michael thanked an unknown deity that he had never had any ambition to become a teacher. “Base steps, LJ, base steps, there is no point in you...”

Lincoln's chuckle grew into a full bellowing laugh as he dropped back on the last remaining deck chair, sending it creaking.

“How do you know how to dance, anyway, Uncle Mike?”

“Oh please,” Lincoln said. “There is only one reason for a guy to know ballroom dancing.” He held Michael's eyes with a smile.

Michael blushed a little and led LJ into another ground step. “Well,” he said. “At least she was quite limber.” He looked over at Lincoln again. Beer in hand, his brother was grinning at the at them. Breathing deeply, Michael opened another spin.

“At this rate, I'm never going to learn,” LJ complained.

“How about letting the poor boy catch a break,” Lincoln said, rising and moving over to them.

“Yeah,” LJ mumbled, freeing himself from Michael's grasp. He stumbled back and threw himself into the deck chair.

“I don't want to go to this stupid dance anyway.” His whine fell on deaf ears.

“So...” Lincoln said, taking Michael's hand and slipping one arm around his waist. “How about it?”

Michael gulped and decided to forgo telling him that technically his hand should be closer to his partner's shoulder than to his ass. He threw one cautious look over Lincoln's shoulder.

Behind them, LJ groped for his beer, nibbling on the rim. Michael also decided to overlook the way LJ was eyeing Lincoln's left behind bottle.

Turning his attention back to Lincoln, he said, “Well, by now you should be informed. Left foot back.” They bumped into each other immediately and Michael couldn't suppress a grin. “The other left.” Exercising pressure on his hand, he nudged Lincoln into a back step.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see LJ curled up on his chair, running his fingers over the buttons of his mobile phone. He smiled.

Girl, he mouthed.

"Way ahead of you, daughter of some African diplomat," Lincoln whispered back and experimentally increased the pressure against Michael's palm, then squeezing Michael's waist. At the same time, he tried to step forward and their knees bumped into each other.

Laughter bubbled up inside of Michael. “You aren't seriously trying to dip me, are you?” He led Lincoln into another awkward twirl, an experiment his feet paid for instantly.

“It's official. You suck worse at this than your teenage son.”

“I do?” Lincoln tightened his grip and they took another spin. Or attempted. There were barely five feet between the wall of the flybridge and the railing. They were just too damn close, Michael decided. It was getting harder to navigate without smacking into anything.

“If my feet blister from this, you'll pay,” Michael grinned.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

They stopped, swaying, Lincoln's arm still lightly around him, and before Michael could say that he thought that it would be a bad idea, Lincoln cupped his cheek and kissed him.
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