This fic was written and takes place before the breakout. I don't own PB...or Mikey..:(
The sudden change in temperature was the first thing she noticed.
Squinting to focus in the darkness of her bedroom, Sara, eyes blurred and muscles tired from work, reached over the bed towards the lamp.
Two clicks on the switch. Nothing. Two more, just in case. Her room remained black.
From the little light coming from outside, she was able to tell that the lamp was in fact plugged in.
And she had just replaced the bulb the night before.
A shiver wracked her body. It was growing steadily colder, but it was the middle of summer. She listened for the familiar sound of her air-conditioning.
Silence.
Her breaths were coming in puffs now.
She wanted to get up and turn the heater on. Two things were stopping her.
The fact that it was still relatively warm under the covers.
And the terrified feeling she got upon realizing there was someone in her room.
The silhouette stood in the corner near her doorway, unmoving. Her heart pumped into her ears. She wanted to scream, to get to the phone, to reach under her bed for the gun her father had insisted she keep with her at all times.
The gun wouldn't help her, she remembered…she had never loaded it.
Besides that, she was frozen in place, lying tucked under the blankets, peering over the top like a five year old who had just watched a horror movie.
She shivered again, from both the cold and fear. The figure moved, and her breath caught.
When the voice whispered in the silence, her breathing seemed to stop altogether.
"Don't be afraid, Sara."
She knew that voice. But it was impossible.
Michael Scofield was in his cell at Fox River.
She thought perhaps her ears were playing tricks on her…until he stepped into the dim light of the window. There was no mistaking the shaved head and tattooed body…
Her eyes grew wide.
She could see all of his tattoos…because he had no shirt on.
Fear gripped her. He had broken out of prison. And came here to…
"Michael…what are you doing?"
She received only a strange grin from the convict.
How had he gotten into her apartment? For that matter, how had he gotten out of Fox River? The questions wracked her mind as he began to move.
The slow, predatory manner in which Michael was now striding towards the bed made her feel like she was in a dream.
Or was it a nightmare?
She wasn't sure yet.
He stood in front of her now, at the foot of the bed, staring at her with an emotion she couldn't place.
It made her skin crawl, with both fear and…excitement? That was it. The emotion she saw on Michael's face was excitement.
Sara shivered when his eyes seemed to shine in the light of the window. But when he stepped around to her side of the bed and moved out of the light, the bright glint never faded.
She shook her head and looked again.
Either he was wearing contacts, or her eyes were failing miserably in the darkness and tricking her.
He stood by the bed and she felt him scanning her body…
She knew she would have no time to react if…
The quiet stillness in the room was suddenly destroyed when, in a blur, he was on top of her.
Holding her down.
This HAD to be a nightmare.
So why was she feeling…enjoyment? Excitement? Arousal?
All of the above.
What the hell was wrong with her?
His breath was wet on her ear, and she was caught in between screaming and moaning. Her response to what Michael was doing shocked and infuriated her.
But she couldn't bring herself to stop. She watched as if her body was in complete control as her hands reached around to grip at his back, nails trailing across the bare skin.
"I'm surprised you haven't yelled yet, Sara. Why is that?"
Her mind buzzed at the tone of his voice. Low, strained, and incredibly seductive.
Why wasn't she yelling?
Why wasn't she resisting?
She couldn't answer these questions. She was too busy trying to make her now scrambled brains work again.
A husky laugh erupted from Michael's throat, but he said nothing. He didn't need to. Sara could predict his intentions perfectly from his actions.
And right now, he was skimming his lips over her ear, down her cheek, coming ever closer to her mouth. Her reason was gone the instant their lips connected. A hot pool of fervor coursed through her body and set every sense ablaze at the light brush of his mouth.
The minute he pulled back she threw a hand behind his neck to bring him crashing down, a need she had never felt before driving her instinctively.
She would most likely regret and hate this later. But she didn't care. For once in her life, Sara Tancredi did NOT care about any consequences.
All she cared about was the way Michael's hands roamed and explored her body faster than she could comprehend.
The simple T-shirt she had been sleeping in was being pulled over her head. She could hardly tell what was happening. Everything was one big blur, and she felt drunk.
What was taking place certainly made her consider the fact, before her mind was once again turned into a puddle by Michael's touch.
With a firm, nearly painful grip on her waist, his head dipped downward and Sara finally found her voice.
"Oh, God…"
It was more of an incoherent gasp, but she had made her point when his tongue met her breast and teeth scraped very gently to evoke a quiet moan.
With a sound of pure sexual frustration, she brought her hands from his back and reached to his pants. He made no attempt to stop her and she quickly disposed of the material separating their bodies.
Things were moving so quickly she almost failed to notice the pressure that suddenly hit her neck.
Until the sharp pain followed and sent her body stiff and her throat burning.
He had bitten her, but she knew right away that this was no playful little nip. He had broken skin.
The pain was intense at first. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she struggled to breathe for about six seconds before her body seemed to relax completely.
She looked down to see red liquid running onto the sheets of the bed. Unable to speak, Sara watched as Michael pressed a bloody kiss against her open mouth, threw her arms above her head, and gave a violent groan as he thrust himself into her…
Her own gasp woke her. Immediately throwing the blankets off, Sara looked down at the bed. No blood.
Light sweat covered her body, and an annoyingly familiar ache burned between her legs. This was the third time in a row she had dreamt of him. This one, however, was surprisingly…graphic.
She literally jumped when the phone rang. Shaking her head and forcing away her thoughts of him, she reached over and put the receiver to her ear. The gruff voice of Dr. Burns, a part time doctor in the infirmary, sounded on the other end.
"Dr. Tancredi? It's 8:45, and your patients are starting to line up in here. Are you sick?"
She glanced at the clock to confirm his words. Looking closer, she saw she had forgotten to set her alarm the night before.
She held back the exhaustion in her voice.
"No, I just overslept. Give me thirty minutes, I'll be right there."
Hanging up the phone, she took a moment to stretch before getting out of bed. Going to her closet, she reached for the first shirt she saw.
She wasn't paying much attention to anything at the time…her mind was still playing the dream over and over again like a broken video recording. It sent a shiver through her as she thought of Michael's teeth piercing her neck.
Rolling her eyes she walked down the hall to take a shower.
She considered leaving the hot water off.
Relief washed over her upon remembering that Michael's appointment wasn't until that afternoon. She would have time to gain back her resolve. Staring at her refection in the bathroom mirror, she couldn't help but want to laugh and scold herself at the same time.
Sara had learned something new about herself, something she would never tell anyone…especially not Michael.
She could only imagine what he would say if he learned that she had fetish for vampires.She could practically hear his light, incredibly sexy chuckle inside her head.
His naked form invaded her imagination again.
She turned the water to cold and stepped in.