Disclaimer: Prison Break and its characters are not mine. I'm just taking them out for a little spin.
After weighing the possible outcome of doing otherwise I make the choice to do what I can to keep up the illusion of being asleep.
Without a word he slips into the room removing shoes, jeans, getting down to the least amount of clothing he can get away with and climbs into bed.
Lying there with my back to him, both of us silent for the better part of twenty minutes, I begin to think, maybe, I've gotten away with it.
" You awake? "
He leads off with a question allowing me to believe
that the denial that I am actually awake is still a workable plan until.
" Maybe I should rephrase that? I know you're awake."
I turn over to find him lying on his back, hands together, fingers locked behind his head staring up at the ceiling. " I was worried, Michael."
I wait for him to look at me, but instead, apparently losing interest with the ceiling tiles above, his eyes fall slowly shut as he speaks. " Sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that. "
I raise up, my chin resting on my hand, watching him, waiting for him to say something, anything, until the prolonged silence forces me to see that nothing else is coming and he fully intends to leave it at that.
"If you shut me out, I'm stuck in this alone," My voice is soft, pleading, and loaded with far more emotion that I'd intended to show. With that he opens his eyes. He doesn't look at me, but at least now I know I have his attention. "I can be strong, brave, together, but if you shut me out now I don't know how much more of this I can take."
Lying there in the silence growing more frustrated by the minute I push hard on his shoulder trying desperately to get his attention. " Damn it, Michael! Talk to me."
Finally he rolls to his side, facing me.
The faint light shining through drapes that don't quite meet show
the tension and worry written all over his face.
"I promised to keep you safe, but there is no way I can you promise that."
" I've got to get him out of the country"
His touch, reaching over to rest his hand possessively on my hip,
comforts me more than he'll ever know. The feel of his hand, moving, gently
stroking my hip through the layers of material makes me wonder if touching
me is as soothing to him as it is to me.
" ... and I can't get him to leave the country without his son. How the
hell do I get LJ without getting all of us caught?"
Understanding him, and his frustration, more than he knows I do;
I take a deep breath and give him the truth that I know he needs to hear.
" You don't have all the answers, Michael. You can't fix everything
by sheer will. I don't have the answers. Linc doesn't have them either."
I stop leaning over, making him look me straight in the eye
to be sure he hears what I have to say.
" And you Michael, have to stop beating yourself up for
being as human and uncertain as the rest of us."
My attempt to help is greeted with a disgusted sigh as he rolls, defeated, away onto to his back. " Everyone's depending on me Sara. I can't let them down."
Realizing the need to ease the tension I move in closer, lifting
his arm around my shoulders so I can rest my head on his chest.
" We'll depend on each other. You have to allow yourself to depend on
others sometimes, Michael."
Resisting less than a minute he moves in, left arm wrapped around
my body, pulling me near, his hand tracing gentle circles over my back.
" Don't start picking me apart. I've had enough therapy to last a
lifetime. I appreciate the concern but..."
Sensing his discomfort and mounting resistance I do what I can to lighten the moment hoping to get things moving in the intended direction by pushing up the hem of his T shirt, letting my hand roam over his firm stomach until, eventually, I allow my fingers to dip down under the waist of his boxers. " No therapy. I promise. I was thinking more of a helpful exercise."
His voice, suddenly deep and husky, the unmistakable marker of arousal
I've come to know so well, makes my heart race.
" I walked about five miles tonight. How much more exercise do you
think I need?
Before he realizes what's happening I climb on top of him, straddling his hips, leaning
over, my hands on his shoulder pressing down holding him firmly in place.
" I've got something psychological as much as physical in mind."
Wearing my usual sleep attire, one of his T's, panties, warm socks on my
tragically cold feet and nothing more I move slowly, grinding my body on his,
igniting the unmistakable light of passion in those riveting eyes of his.
" I think anyone who knows you understands you could use some practice
relinquishing control."
Reaching out, taking hold of my hips pulling me down hard against his body he starts a rhythm, matching my own, that threatens to wipe away my own attempts at control not to mention the entire point of our little exercise.
Working against my body's obvious desire to do otherwise I reach
down slipping both hands through the waistband of the boxers to his
hips beneath, take firm hold, and effectively still his motion.
" Remember, you are not the one in control here, Michael.
Its healthy, even therapeutic to..."
" ... relinquish control?" He adds, cutting me off, playfully doing exactly as he's told, lying still, suddenly willing, patient, and eager to follow my lead.
In the faint glow of red and pink neon filtering in through the partially open drapes I can see his smile. One of the beautiful, lighthearted, warm smiles of his I've only been fortunate enough to see a few times. A precious part of the man he once was, unparalleled in its ability to melt my heart.
Watching his face, his eyes never leaving mine, I grab hold of his shirt pulling it up and over his head in one quick motion that leaves my body fully on top of his.
My head resting neatly on his shoulder, lips nuzzled perfectly against the taunt salty skin of his neck, I deem the position ideal for the continuation of the exercises and start a slow and deliberate exploration of his body by tracing the line of his strong jaw with the tip of my tongue.
Heading down, lips busy teasing and tasting the finely inked skin of
his chest, hands lower yet, I look over to see his hand, still at his side,
fidgeting and straining to remain still and under my control as directed.
" Good therapy is never easy, Michael..."
I pull his right hand up to my to my face allowing him to touch me.
" ... but, done properly, it can be so worth the effort."
Tentatively he runs the back of his warm hand gently along the curve of my cheek before taking the time to thoughtfully trace my lower lip with the tip of his index finger." I'm not going to argue that point."
With temptation more than I can stand, I part my lips and take the length of his finger, so readily available, into my mouth, eliciting a deep moan that makes it nearly impossible for him to utter a single word let alone full sentences. "Jesus! More therapy like this over the years and I'd be the most well adjusted man in Illinois by now."
Letting him go, excruciatingly slowly, teasing him with my tongue as
I go, just to be sure he understands who is in charge I
take hold of his hand and place tiny kisses on the tip of each
finger punctuating my words, as I speak.
" You just never had the right doctor before. "