Because a certain someone - points her finger at chattycat - asked for acontinuation of my fic Strong (that Iwrote for msgenevieve's birthday) in which Michael would get to see Sara in that gorgeous golden bikini. So here it is, hon, just for you. Hope you'll enjoy. :)

Title: Bikini
Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Fernando Sucre, Lincoln Burrows, Roland,
Pairing: Sara/Michael
Genre: gen, romance, fluff, pwp
Rating: R (for some sexual situation, yet nothing too explicit...unfortunately...;))
Word Count: approx. 2000 words
Summary: Is there away Michael would get to see Sara in that gorgeous golden bikini? In my world, there sure is!

This is the continuation to my other fic called Strong, but you don't neccessarily have to read that one in order to understand this.
Spoilers: 4x07
Warning: Again, hasn't been betaed. All mistakes are mine.

Bikini

Sucre is on his way through the warehouse heading to the kitchen to get some snack, when he sees it, peeking out from a big pile of papers heaped on the table in front of Roland. He crosses the remaining space between him and Roland in no time and before the dark haired man has any chance to notice not to mention to protest, Sucre grabs the photo half-hidden underneath Roland's paper pile. While he stares at it in shock disbelief, Roland's hands fly into the air in a gesture of surrender.

"Look man, it's not what you think…" Stutters Roland but Sucre silences him with one angry look. He shoves the photo into Roland's face. "Isn't it? Great, so I guess you will have no problems to explain this to Michael then?" Hisses Sucre and watches with satisfaction when the younger man starts to panic.

"Alright, alright, just don't call Mr. Genius, ok?" Roland's hands are flying around the air in nervous gesticulation, his eyes flying occasionally to the picture in Sucre's hand, wondering what chance to succeed he might have if he simply rips the photo from Sucre's grasp and runs. One look into the Latino's angry face telling him – Don't even go there! - makes him reconsider. He surrenders.

"Listen amigo, I am sure we may reach some agreement, just don't tell Mr. Jealous Boyfriend, alright?"

Sucre merely snorts in disgust. "I am not your amigo and I certainly won't cover a filthy little scumbag like you!" He squeezes through his teeth before turning around, shouting through the warehouse at the top of his lungs.

"Yo, Pappi! I need you here for a sec!"

Michaels and Lincolns heads appear on the upper deck, their faces one of surprised curiosity.

"What's up, Sucre?" calls Michael downstairs, probably being interrupted in the middle of conversation with Lincoln.

"Just get down here, will ya?" Sucre calls and sees Michael nod a bit reluctantly, then both the brothers are descending the stairs in a few quick strides. Roland buries his face in his hands.

Busted.

When Michael and Lincoln are close enough for Sucre to lower his voice significantly, he outstretches his hand, handing over a photo to Michael. Lincoln watches with concern how his brother takes a sharp – almost shocked – intake of breath, then casts a furious and inquiring look back at Sucre.

"I found that in his papers." Sucre tells Michael, who now keeps switching his stare between the photo in his hands and Roland.

"You have five seconds to spill." Michael says in a very low and uncharacteristically dangerous voice, the knuckled grasping the photo turning white. Lincoln finally tilts his head in interest to be able to see the obviously very incriminating photo. He almost gasps himself.

It's a photo of Sara from Vegas, wearing only her golden bikini, the accessories as well as the light, scarf-like brown top missing. She is probably getting prepared for her little act with Scuderi and she is obviously completely oblivious to the picture being taken. Lincoln feels his own blood starting to boil and he casts a look at Michael. His brother's eyes are darting into Roland, red-hot daggers flying in the black-haired man's direction and boring themselves right into his chest.

"Look…I just…it's not what you think…it was just for fun!" tries Roland, thought his cool posture obviously crumbled under Michael's look.

"Does this," Michael jerks his hand holding the photo, yet doesn't show it directly to the small audience present at the scene, "look like fun to you?"

"No man, it's not…I…"

"Does she look like fun to you?" Michael literally hisses the words out of his mouth. This little scumbag really had the guts to take such pictures – any pictures – of Sara, without her – and his – knowledge, and he even leaves them laying around like this for anybody to see?

"No! Of course not." Utters Roland quietly, casting his eyes down to the ground, and Lincoln contemplates if the short man hasn't pissed himself yet, for the tone and look Michael is giving him really could kill.

"Are there any other pictures?" Michael asks in hardly pretended calm, the quiet command in his voice more menacing than an actual physical assault.

Roland shakes his head frightened, his eyes still cast downwards, not daring to look at Michael.

"Look at me Roland…" demands Michael and Sucre can't but admire the calm dignity Michael is handling this with. If it were him and that was a picture of Maricruz, this man would already lie in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

Roland's eyes start to rise slowly, until he has no other choice than to actually look into Michael's livid face.

"…and tell me…." Michael continues, his voice still quiet and of controlled calm, obviously suppressing fierce anger. "…are there any other pictures?"

"No." Utters Roland at last, finally looking directly at Michael.

"Fine. Now listen to me you little perverse pig. If you ever disrespect her like this - or any other way for that matter - again, I will personally arrange with Self to get you a nice warm cell with a guy who has a rap-sheet long as my arm and who likes to cuddle during those very long, lonely nights in prison. And if I ever find as much as a school photo of Sara in the proximity of 10 feet from you, I even won't wait for Self to handle it. Now, are we clear?"

"Crystal clear." mumbles Roland, restlessly shifting in his spot.

"Now walk." Commands Michael, and Roland has much to do not to break into a run as he quickly slips from the circle of three dangerously glaring men.

X/X

"Hey." calls Michael softly to Sara, pushing the door to the cabin of her SS Minnow open.

She raises her head, flashing him a bit of a tired yet still genuine smile. "Hey yourself."

She is sitting on her bunk, legs crossed underneath her, studying some kind of documents they collected about the Company and their main players.

"You busy?" He asks carefully, patiently waiting for her answer, still standing almost half in her doorway.

"No, not at all. Come on in." She calls reassuringly and his back finally unglues from the door frame, making his way to the bunk. He sits down next to her.

"I just wanted to give you this." He says and hands her a photo. She gasps when she sees her own blood and flesh – too much flesh to be exact – looking at her from the photo.

"Where did you get this?" She asks in a choked voice, her hand slightly shaking.

"Sucre found it in Roland's stuff today." Michael explains. "But don't worry, I made sure this was the only copy and that something like this wouldn't happen ever again." He assures her while looking over her features slightly worried, not exactly knowing what to expect.

Sara lets out a deep, shaky sigh. "That little sneaky bastard…" she murmurs disbelievingly, her gaze still trained upon her own photo.

"Yeah." Michael utters, studying her profile the dimly-lit room. "I'm sorry." He adds and she finally unglues her gaze from the picture.

"For what?" Sara asks in surprise. "You did nothing wrong." She says shaking her head, a soft smile touching her lips.

"You ok then?" Michael asks carefully and hears her let out a soft chuckle.

"With this?" She says and waves the photo in the air demonstratively. "Sure." Sounding like she couldn't care less, she rolls her eyes at him and Michael can feel his chest unclenching. She softly smiles at him.

"Thank you for giving it to me though. I could simply throttle that little pervert." She adds disgruntled, then flashes Michael a hopeful look. He can't help but chuckle lightly.

"I am sorry, but that matter has already been handled." He says and watches her face to turn into a somewhat disappointed grimace. His grin only grows. "You know," he starts with a smirk, giving his tone a conspiratorial shade, "both, Lincoln and Sucre, promised to break both of his arms if he ever pulled a shit like this again."

"But you…didn't." Says Sara, her eyebrows rising in what's more a question than a statement and Michael can tell they just sailed into the safe waters of their usual pleasant teasing banter.

"Well, I promised to break something…else." Says Michael a bit coyly, giving her a charming grin she can nothing but return with a warm, good-natured giggle.

"Thank you for your chivalry then." Sara says playfully before bending forward and kissing him lightly on the lips. She brings her hands to rest tenderly – protectively – at the nape of his neck, and Michael knows there in no other way he could feel more relaxed and content right now.

"Sooo…" starts Michael, drawing lazy circles with his own thumb over the curve of her hip. "What do you plan to do with that photo now?" he asks, giving the photo in question a curious look. Sara shrugs in what probably means something along the lines of – 'will probably throw it away' – but then casts him an amused look when catching a small spark – Is it disappointment? - in his eyes. Her eyes widen in surprise and her face breaks into a huge, cheerful smile.

"Do you want it?" She asks suggestively, holding up the photo to him flirtatiously. She can see the eagerness to get the photo as well as the shy moral-driven hesitation in his eyes and she can't decide whether it's rather endearing or simply annoying. In the end, she goes for both, rolling her eyes and releasing a soft chuckle at the same time.

"Cut yourself some slack, Michael." She says, holding the photo out to him. He carefully takes it and gives her a thankful sheepish look, then casts a look at the photo, letting out a shaky sigh.

"So this is what you've been wearing in Vegas?" Her eyes sparkle mischievously when she quips one silent and amused – yep.

"Wow, I am now even more sorry I wasn't there than I was before." He says before noticing a mysterious smile dancing over her lips.

"Well, no need to be sorry." She says, flashing him a mysterious smile. "Let's say that I've managed to save that particular piece of clothing for further use."

"Saved?" he is far more than merely intrigued now. "What further use are we speaking about exactly?" His voice barely conceals his excitement and she can't help but grin broadly.

"For when you actually manage to drop this SS Minnow onto the water." She says and can see his look tender at her words, his eyes glassing over ever so slightly. She bends forward again, until her mouth reaches the hollow of his ear.

"That bikini is the only thing I've got prepared in my duffle bag for when the time comes for us to sail into the sunset together." She whispers and feels a great deal of satisfaction when he shudders against her in pleasure. One hand resting on his cheek, she brings her other to rest at the hollow of his hip. "And I promise you now, that if you manage to pull this off, it will be the only piece of clothing you'll see me in for a whole month."

Michael gulps. "Only that?"

Sara nods against the side of his head, her warm breath brushing his neck, sending all his senses into overdrive. "Or less." She adds, kissing the lobe of his ear.

"Uhm, that I call highly developed…motivational skills." replies Michael in a husky voice, finally surrendering to her irresistible seduction technique and bringing his lips to kiss her hard, using his hands to shift her tighter against him. "But you know," he manages to breathe through their kisses, desperately trying to show he is capable of at least some resistance against her, "The nights at the sea can get pretty cold."

"Then," Sara simply states, her lips brushing his while she is speaking in the sweetest kind of torture, "you will have to find a way how to keep me warm. I am sure you will come up with something."

She can feel him draw a white flag of surrender immediately at her words, bringing her even closer to him, the swell of his trousers now pressing hard against her thigh.

"Sara?"

"Uh-huh?"

"How about a little sneak-peak until we are there?"

She only grins mischievously into his neck.

"I thought you'd never ask."

END

Ok, so obviously, I was in a veeery mischievous mood when writing this. But I enjoyed the writing immensely and I hope you people enjoyed as much reading it. :) Let me know your thoughts.