Categories > TV > Prison Break > Of Same Mind
"I will never make it better! I will never be better! It will always hurt, you fucking ass hole!"
Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell stared across the walk way of the prison, his cold eyes locked onto the cell that held the escape he so dearly needed. The edge of the bunk dug into his back, causing him to shift uncomfortably feeling the new position leak cold onto his skin through the thin white shirt he had on. He knew he was being watched.
Blue eyes, forged with ice, stared at the slender figure below him. Something stirred deep within Michael's belly when he re-thought that. Below him. Images played against his now closing eyes, visions of tanned skin decorated with bruises, hips writhing uncontrollably beneath him. His breath came a little shakier now, as he could see a slender throat arch up when a head fell back, lips parted in pain. His fingers curled against the bars harder, his back tensing up as he saw brown eyes clenching shut with the effort to not see what was happening.
"Oh God..." he had whispered, and Sucre had stared at him for a moment until those brown eyes were darted back down to the article he was reading.
Now within Michael's vision was the slender man, the pedophile and rapist, handcuffed and violated. An almost orgasmic wave passed over Michael as he wondered how Theodore would take being raped by the 'Fish'. Being forced onto his stomach, hips in the air with his filthy hands tied behind his back. Should he gag him? No...Teddy, (He laughed coldly, thinking of calling T-Bag that, and got another strange look from Sucre) Teddy probably had the prettiest sobs, prettiest screams of pain. The man would shake, tremble beneath him as Michael would force his way in, an invasion of agony a desecration of the simple and fragile truce between the two men. He wondered what teddy's blood looked like.
Michael had to escape from the pain in his lower body, his erection digging into the front of his pants. He tugged on Sucre's ankle, and the man hung a sheet, but with the thought of going back up into his bunk in his mind. Sucre was shoved onto Michael's bunk, a hand covered his mouth and dove down into his pants. Michael smiled.
Theodore watched the sheet fall, glaring to no one, at no one. The shank in his pocket felt cold, but oddly warm when he brushed his fingers over it. Images of a broken body beneath flashed in his mind, stab wounds laced with blood and ink. A mangled corpse left on silken sheets, bruises on hips and throat. He wondered if Michael would scream. He almost hoped he would - he wanted the Fish to pay for the humiliation...Theodore never took anything lightly. When the man noticed the sheet wasn't being pulled up, a his trained ears heard the sound of a bunk scraping against the concrete floor, he knew that escape tunnel wasn't the only hole Michael was going through.
Theodore smiled.
Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell stared across the walk way of the prison, his cold eyes locked onto the cell that held the escape he so dearly needed. The edge of the bunk dug into his back, causing him to shift uncomfortably feeling the new position leak cold onto his skin through the thin white shirt he had on. He knew he was being watched.
Blue eyes, forged with ice, stared at the slender figure below him. Something stirred deep within Michael's belly when he re-thought that. Below him. Images played against his now closing eyes, visions of tanned skin decorated with bruises, hips writhing uncontrollably beneath him. His breath came a little shakier now, as he could see a slender throat arch up when a head fell back, lips parted in pain. His fingers curled against the bars harder, his back tensing up as he saw brown eyes clenching shut with the effort to not see what was happening.
"Oh God..." he had whispered, and Sucre had stared at him for a moment until those brown eyes were darted back down to the article he was reading.
Now within Michael's vision was the slender man, the pedophile and rapist, handcuffed and violated. An almost orgasmic wave passed over Michael as he wondered how Theodore would take being raped by the 'Fish'. Being forced onto his stomach, hips in the air with his filthy hands tied behind his back. Should he gag him? No...Teddy, (He laughed coldly, thinking of calling T-Bag that, and got another strange look from Sucre) Teddy probably had the prettiest sobs, prettiest screams of pain. The man would shake, tremble beneath him as Michael would force his way in, an invasion of agony a desecration of the simple and fragile truce between the two men. He wondered what teddy's blood looked like.
Michael had to escape from the pain in his lower body, his erection digging into the front of his pants. He tugged on Sucre's ankle, and the man hung a sheet, but with the thought of going back up into his bunk in his mind. Sucre was shoved onto Michael's bunk, a hand covered his mouth and dove down into his pants. Michael smiled.
Theodore watched the sheet fall, glaring to no one, at no one. The shank in his pocket felt cold, but oddly warm when he brushed his fingers over it. Images of a broken body beneath flashed in his mind, stab wounds laced with blood and ink. A mangled corpse left on silken sheets, bruises on hips and throat. He wondered if Michael would scream. He almost hoped he would - he wanted the Fish to pay for the humiliation...Theodore never took anything lightly. When the man noticed the sheet wasn't being pulled up, a his trained ears heard the sound of a bunk scraping against the concrete floor, he knew that escape tunnel wasn't the only hole Michael was going through.
Theodore smiled.
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