Fic: Hero

Apr. 24th, 2007 11:38 pm
its_raining_fic: (alex)
[personal profile] its_raining_fic

Title: Hero

Author: interpretthis

Fandom: Prison Break

Pairing: Alex/Michael

Rating: R

Genre: Slash

Challenge/Prompt: [info]psych_30, #27 Catharsis
Summary: Follow-up to “Sona”.  Alex has everything left to fight for and nothing at all.

Notes: Songfic to bits of Regina Spektor’s “Hero”.  Prompt table here.  Started during my mock AP exam. ;P

 

 

               Alex spots him up ahead, framed in a lit doorway, the glow of unseen, high-watt bulbs beyond casting a ghostly sheen over the other man’s stark face.  Alex can tell even from this distance that Michael is soaked through to the bone, black hoodie hanging off of him like a soggy, elephantine second skin.  He clenches his fist, seeing red flare up from his corneas without the color being drawn from his palm.  He digs his nails deeper into his skin, yet still does not draw blood.  It makes the crimson tinge in his vision a shade darker.  Too fucking alive.  Yet not enough to bleed. 

 

He never ever saw it coming at all.
He never ever saw it coming at all.
He never ever saw it coming at all.
it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright

it’s alright.

 

                He strides towards Michael with a purposeful gait, trying not to think about what he’s stepping on.  He overlooks the shells of people broken and defeated as he passes on the way to his quarry.  Quarry.  Quarry doesn’t seem quite the right word anymore.  Prey, more like.  Revenge.  Victim.  Epitome of everything that keeps him from his life.  A tiny, trifling voice screams in the back of his head.  Something about impulsivity, the company, mercy and redemption.  The rushing roar in his ears drowns it out.  He’s through with listening to that particular voice.  Where has it got him?  Hell, that’s where.

 

Hey, open wide, here comes original sin.
Hey, open wide, here comes original sin.
Hey, open wide, here comes original sin.
 it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright

it’s alright.

 

Michael turns just as Alex reaches him.  Alex wonders vaguely why he ever thought of him as Michael – still thinks of him as Michael – before landing the punch on his jaw with a crisp crunch.  Michael tries to ward off the second blow with his forearm, but Alex manages to claw past in his fit, intent only on causing as much damage as possible.  All the damage on earth could not set Alex’s world back onto its proper axis.  He knows it and he does not care.  He does not care and he fights.

 

They fall to the dingy dirt floor in a mass of limbs and rasped swears.  Michael is still trying to push Alex away, but only half-heartedly now.  His palms are splayed against the older man’s sodden chest, fingers gripping cool, moist cotton and pushing.  Alex feels a whimper push out of his own lungs, half-sob, half-sigh and shakes Michael’s shoulders, losing energy and resolve as his arms start to turn against him, lead seeping into his veins.  He shivers and strikes out at Michael blindly at the shattering feel of soft, wet lips against his jaw.  A tremor dashes through him before he lashes out once more.  Realizes he’s forgotten what he’s fighting for as Michael kisses him again, just missing his lips this time around.  Gives up and changes course.

 

No-one's got it all.
No-one's got it all.
No-one's got it all.

 

                The rush is back, but it doesn’t quite reach his ears this time.  Alex gives a low growl and tugs at Michael’s earlobe with bared teeth, a renewed fervor taking hold as he grinds down against him.  He drinks in the tiny whimper it draws from Michael as he meets his hips thrust for thrust.  The hallway is dim and Alex reckons little much has changed from their tussle in the eyes of the stoned and catatonic bystanders.  He doubts men fucking in the open is much of an anomaly here anyway as his lips brush against Michael’s on their way to his neck.  A slow, roiling wave of fire curls in his abdomen as their hips set an animalistic rhythm, hardened cocks meeting briefly with each stroke through their jeaned confines. 

 

We’re trying to be faithful, but we’re

Cheating, cheating, cheating.

 

                Alex’s eyes slip shut with a groan as he draws his own bottom lip into his mouth, desperate to cry out but unwilling to draw attention to their actions.  He grinds down one last time, a metallic taste alighting his tongue as he shudders in release.  Blood flow after all.  Life.  Warmth seeps through his crotch as he empties himself, the front of his jeans soaking a shade deeper in the dark.  Michael thrusts up against him, desperate to reach his own release in this dysfunctional, addictive relationship they’ve created.  Alex claims his lips fiercely, capturing the younger man’s cry as his hips still and he spasms with release.

 

I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved.

                Alex rolls off to the side, pulling Michael with him.  His back lies flat against the rough, graffitied wall.  He feels sated and dirty.  Feels like he shouldn’t be holding Michael, not even now that they’ve gleaned what they’ve long wanted but could never take from the other.  Not now that he’s got nothing to fight for anymore.  Nothing to fight for.  He grips Michael closer and rethinks his statement.

 

 it’s alright,

 it’s alright,

 it’s alright,

 it’s alright,

 it’s alright,

 it’s alright,

it’s alright.

 

No-one's got it all.
No-one's got it all.
No-one's got it all…



 

 FIN

 

 

 

  

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