Disclaimer: I don't own it; you knew that.
Note: Written for pamalax's The First Kiss challenge where I had the prompt "Michael slash".
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The first time Michael kissed a man, it was in prison, and he felt guilty for the next two days.
Because it wasn't part of his escape plan. No, it was stupid and selfish and accomplished nothing towards helping free Lincoln. In fact, it could have even jeopardized the plan since it was Sucre he kissed.
Sucre, the cellmate who had already panicked and demanded transfer once before. Sucre, the man who had a fiancée and baby waiting for him when he got out—whether it was walking out the front gates or scrambling over the wall by the infirmary. Sucre, who'd been Michael's only friend—the only man besides Lincoln who Michael could trust in Fox River.
But that didn't stop Michael from pressing his mouth against Fernando's after the lights went out in A-wing for the night. It didn't stop him from sliding his tongue in when his cellmate's lips parted.
For a second, it felt like he was in an elevator that was dropping too quickly, his stomach in a knot as he waited for some sign—any sign—that he had not just made a mistake of epic proportions. That he hadn't misjudged the human factor again. That Sucre hadn't merely been opening his mouth in shock or to tell him off.
Then, Fernando's hand reached around to the back of Michael's head, pulling him in until they were flush against one another. Then, Michael knew he wasn't always wrong when it came to people.