A Cruel Mistress - Fanfic Challenge

Tue, 15 May 2007 08:53:04 GMT

The showerhead in the bathroom of a dodgy motel opened like a flower, crystal petals shedding from it’s metallic bud only to whisper along the tiled recess and glass door that was it’s greenhouse. A fluffy white Wal-Mart issue towel was folded carefully and placed on the counter next to the sink and the shower door opened on creaking hinges that needed replacing, allowing for the sound of the rushing water to become louder between the space of vacancy and the heavily tattooed body that slipped into the steamy cubicle. Rivulets immediately clung to the already warm skin that attracted them, skidding to a halt at the drain between two bare feet. A pair of calves transitioned into thighs, both sections carved from running. Slim hips cradled a taut but not ripped abdomen before giving way to the interconnected highways of ink that crisscrossed the chest of the man who now stood relaxed with both hands on the tiles behind the rosette that absolved his guilt.

Fate was a cruel mistress. No one in the budget rented room knew this better than Michael Scofield. She had snatched him from his parents before he had been able to properly defend himself against the onslaught of obstacles she herself would throw in his path. She saw to it that his older brother, his only source of real hope had been absent from his ever-needy life. She had ensured that Michael knew what Lincoln had gone through to give his younger sibling the opportunity to be where Michael would have been still, if again not for Lincoln. Fate had helped Michael to scheme, and plan, and put into effect all of his devices to save his brother. Perhaps out of all of the things that Michael hated Fate for, however, the court-room had been paramount.

He knew why they painted court-rooms in those bland, monotone color schemes. Devoid of life, of hope. Courts in the United States were supposed to represent justice and the atrocities of law that occurred like commonplace tricks in other countries were supposed to be obsolete within the American Justice System. [i]Innocent until proven guilt,[/i] Michael had reminded himself from his vulnerable perch in the dock, ignoring the sensation of a hundred or more pairs of eyes burning into the back of his head with their hate-filled gaze. Michael’s reminders had been for Lincoln however, not for himself. Scofield had given in to Fate on his own part, and it’s lucky he did.

Because Fate had finally rewarded him with Sara.

Fingers of one hand remained splayed against the soap-scummed tiles, slipping with each rhythm of the right hand as it flowed along the easy length of Michael’s penis. His blue eyes and mind were closed to the energy efficient halogen buzzing above him, hazed by the shower’s fog. He needed to find her. Refusing to believe that she could already be beyond his reach, Michael focused on the release that he needed so badly. Like all things he undertook these days his ‘alone time’ was planned and looked forward to, but time was naturally of the essence. Knowing how and where to touch to bring himself closer with more precision Michael’s left thumb twitched against the wall. His lips parted and a soft gasp brushed past them as his hand left his penis to its devices before slipping expertly around his scrotum. He jerked as he came, a hot string of pearls joining the petals from above to dot the tiles. Michael continued to fondle himself for a few moments, making the most of what would no doubt be the last time in a long time, his fingers now relaxed against the wall as the water washed away the rest of his sins.

He had more important things to tend to.

manipulated // M A I D

A Cruel Mistress - Fanfic Challenge