Title: The Ultimate Sacrifice

Part III

Author: Darkestangel

Summary: Michael’s first day at Fox River is not what he hoped for

Author’s Website: www.darknessprevails.com

Comments: darkestangel@darknessprevails.com

Archive: Yes, to Prison Break archive, yes to others with permission

Warnings: crude language, violence, non-con

Pairing: Michael/T-bag, Michael/OMC

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: The Pilot for now but could possibly be the entire first season if I am encouraged to continue on with this saga.

Disclaimer: Prison Break belongs to 20th Century Fox and Adelstein-Parouse Productions. I am only borrowing their characters for my own personal pleasure and no permanent harm will come to them.

Author’s Notes:

1. I tend to write dark slash stories and this one is no exception so consider this as a warning.

2. This is Part III of the series and the NC-17 rating applied to the series as a whole.

3.  I have often wondered how the show would be different if Sucre was not Michael’s cellmate. This is totally A/U and will go against the canon of the show. This could possibly turn into a series that retells the first season and the changes that will take place due to Michael’s cellie if I am encouraged through feedback.

 

***************************************************

“The son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinners and be crucified and on the third day rise again,” the Chaplin explained. “They remembered his words and so should you…Good day gentlemen, may God be with you.”

Lincoln Burrows sat in thought watching as the Chaplin left the alter wondering where his life had gone so wrong. He had been barely fourteen when his mother passed away, and he had practically raised Michael working long hours and trying to be the responsible older brother. When he had turned sixteen, he had gotten involved with the wrong crowd and began experimenting with drugs and Booze. He found that drugs were not only great for forgetting the pressures and stress most sixteen-year old boys never had to face, but that drugs were also great for selling and making quick money. He used the drug money for feeding and clothing Michael while supporting his own drug habit, and he never once thought about what his addiction was doing to Michael. The two brothers had grown apart throughout the years due to Lincoln’s lies and secretive night expeditions, and by the time Michael had turned eighteen, Lincoln had lost the only woman he had truly ever loved and he had a child with a woman he barely knew. Lincoln had been arrested numerous times for petty theft and drug convictions and he had lost count on how many times a more mature Michael had bailed him out of a jam with his money.

Lincoln had many regrets; including the fact that he was a lousy father to his son LJ, and that he had been a terrible brother to Michael. He hated the fact that he would not be able to hug his brother and tell him that he was sorry for his mistakes until the night of his execution, and Lincoln was heartbroken that it would take his death to bring Michael back onto his life.

“Let’s go Burrows,” Officer Patterson ordered.

Lincoln stood awkwardly in all his chains and turned into the pew aisle only to be faced with the sight of his brother, “Michael?” Lincoln stared at his brother in shock and disbelief, “Why?”

Michael stepped forward closer to Linc. “I’m getting you out,” Michael confidently announced.

“Burrows,” Patterson began. “Roll it up. Happy hour is over.”

Lincoln ignored Patterson and remained focus on his erroneous brother, “That’s impossible.”

Michael smirked, “Not if you designed the place it isn’t.”

Lincoln watched as his brother turned and walked out of the chapel filled with a mixture of awe, appreciation, and anger; what the hell was Michael thinking getting himself thrown into the prison in hopes of rescuing his troublesome older brother? Didn’t Michael realize how dangerous a place like Fox River was particularly for a man that looked like Michael?

Lincoln’s gut suddenly cringed in apprehension at what could happen to Michael in general population, “Patterson, could you do me a favor?”

Phil Patterson grasped Lincoln’s arm, “What is it Burrows?”

“You see that fish I was talking to?”

Phil shrugged, “Yeah, so?”

Lincoln frowned in concern, “I need you to find out who his cellie is.”

Patterson arched his brow in suspicion, “Why is that? What’s the fish to you?”

“Just want to know,” Lincoln replied.

“You looking to hook up with the newbie and want to know who you have to barter with,” Phil knowingly asked. After ten years of working in the prison system he knew easy targets when he saw one, and the new con Linc the Sink referred to was in for a world of hurt once the gen-pop turned on him.

“Yeah, something like that,” Lincoln lied even more concerned for his brother now that even the guards were joking about Michael’s apparent popularity in the cellblock.

Phil laughed softly, “I’ll see what I can do for you Linc.”

“Thanks,” Lincoln managed through clenched teeth. For the life of him, Lincoln couldn’t figure out what would have possessed his crazy-ass brother to risk everything to save the world’s worse father and brother, but Michael had always felt the need to help the less and unfortunate souls of the world so why should he expect any less?

*************************************

“So, did you have a good prayer fish,” Ripper asked as his new cellie returned from the chapel.

Michael ignored the Neanderthal in his cell and instead sat on his lower bunk beginning to feel the stress of the day catching up on him. He had to find a way to meet up with John Abruzzi but he wasn’t sure how to ditch the over-grown caveman in his cell.

“What you pray for,” Rip asked as he jumped down from his bunk to stand in front of Michael. “Did you pray to make it through the day without getting your mouth fucked?”

Michael refused to look up at the crude man, “No, but I did pray that you would have a horrible disfiguring accident by the end of the day.”

Ripper yanked the younger con to his feet by his shirt collar, “That’s real fucking funny fish. Let’s see how funny you think it is when I’m ripping your sweet tight ass in two with my cock.”

“Open up on forty-one,” the C.O. bellowed out.

Ripper immediately let the fish go, “You’re going to learn a lesson of respect real soon.”

“Scofield, the Pope wants to see you,” the C.O. informed the new con.

“Hurry on little fishy,” Ripper added. “We’ll finish this when you get back.”

Michael didn’t make eye contact with his cellie as he was mercifully escorted out of the cell by the officer. As he walked past cell forty, he caught a glimpse of Sucre who was writing a letter.

“What’s another word for love?” Sucre asked his new cellie.

“How the fuck would I know?” Hogan responded. “Do I look like I know anything about love?”

Sucre ignored the irritating Hogan and made eye contact with Michael, “What you looking at fish?”

“Try passion,” Michel suggested smiling softly at the Puerto Rican.

“Passion,” Sucre grinned. “Yeah, that’s dope.”

“Move along Scofield,” the officer barked pushing Michael past cell forty.

“How do you spell passion?” Sucre asked Hogan already knowing that the misplaced Purity wannabe wouldn’t answer him.

“Get a fucking dictionary and leave me alone,” Hogan yelled loud enough for the entire tier to hear.

Once again, Michael suspected that Sucre was meant to be his cellie but Bellick had brokered a deal with T-Bag, and now Michael would have to figure out a way past the obstacles placed in his way. He looked at his watch noting that it was already 4PM. Only three hours before the cons were placed in their cells for the night, and he had yet to make contact with the most important piece in his elaborate plan, John Abruzzi.

***********************************

Michael sat still in the Warden’s office as the older gentleman looked at his D.O.C. file making comments about Michael’s past and his future at Fox River. Michael had studied the career and life of the Pope on the outside trying to gain any advantage that he could. He knew that the man had no children and tended to lean towards the rehabilitation aspect of correction rather than the punishment like other Wardens before him.

“You were top of your class at Loyola. Magna Cum Laude in fact,” Warden Henry Pope remarked obviously impressed with his new prisoner’s education. The Warden took off his glasses and looked intently at Michael, “I can’t help wondering what a man with your credentials is doing in a place like this.”

Michael shrugged, “Took a wrong turn a few months back I guess.”

Pope arched his brows in curiosity, “You make it sound like a traffic infraction. Like all you did was turn the wrong way up a one way street.”

“Everyone turns up one sooner or later,” Michael replied sitting casually in his chair in front of the Warden’s desk.

Henry got up from his seat and moved around to stand in front of Michael. “The reason that I called you here…I noticed in your file under occupation you put down unemployed. That’s not true now is it?” He sat on the edge of the large desk, “I know you’re a structural engineer Scofield.”

Henry looked behind Michael to a large replica of the Taj Mahal that he had been creating for months and indicated for the new inmate to stand.  Michael turned his attention to the model of one of the wonders of the world as well when the Warden escorted him towards the structure.

“The Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a monument to his undying love for his wife. My wife is quite fond of the story. It appeals to the romantic side of her.” Henry turned his attention back to Michael, “Being married to someone in corrections, it’s a terrible job, wouldn’t wish it on anybody. Yet, in thirty-nine years my wife has never complained and the worst part is I’ve never thanked her.” Henry sighed in sadness, “So because I couldn’t say it I thought, you know, I could build it.” Both men stood in front of the towering monument, “In June, it’s our fortieth anniversary. Well here, look,” Henry offered bending down so that Michael could see up inside the structure at the support beams in the ceiling. “The problem is if I build anymore it’s all going to come down like a house of cards. That’s where I was hoping you could be of assistance. For the favor, I could offer you three days of work a week in here and it’ll keep you off the Yard.”

Michael stared at the Taj Mahal weighing the benefits of being locked away safely in the Warden’s office. He knew that being inside away from Ripper and T-Bag would be beneficial but he would lose too much time planning and implementing his plan. “I can’t do it.”

The Warden couldn’t believe that the new con would turn down such an offer, “Son, it’s better for me to owe you one in here than it is for you to owe me one I can promise you that.”

 Michael would have loved to have accepted the Warden’s generous offer, but he knew that Lincoln’s life depended on him and his plan, “I’ll have to take my chances.”

The Warden didn’t even try to hide his disappointment, “Then we’re through here…guard!”

Michael left the Warden’s office knowing that he may have pissed off a potential pawn in his plan, but it was more important to be in the Yard and in his cell than it was to be safe in the confines of the Warden’s office.

************************************

Michael stood in line for his dinner scanning the mess hall for Abruzzi. He saw the Purity sitting in the corner taking up four tables and made a note to himself to avoid them at all cost. He also spotted Sucre sitting with this Latino friends wishing that he could approach the other man, but he knew that a new fish would not be welcomed at that table or any other table for that matter.

He grabbed the flimsy silver tray which held his dinner; a dinner that looked fit for dogs to eat, and nearly gagged from the smell. Michael was used to having fine food, expensive cars, fancy clothes, and an elaborate loft high in the skyline of Chicago and getting adjusted to the meager provisions of prison was not as easy as he hoped. The only thing keeping him from having a total meltdown over the things he had lost was Lincoln and his plan.

Michael ignored the stares of the other cons and made his way over towards an empty table but caught a glimpse of Abruzzi huddled in the corner with his Mafia gang. He quickly walked over towards the table before Ripper or anyone else could stop him and stood by the table with his tray in hand.

John Abruzzi for his part ignored the annoying fish standing by his table and continued to stab into his Salisbury steak.

“Abruzzi, I need you to hire me for P.I.,” Michael informed the Mob Boss. Prison Industries was work detail and it was ran by Abruzzi and it was vital that Michael get into P.I. if he wanted his plan to work.

“Not interested fish,” Abruzzi replied not looking up from his dinner. Not just anyone got into P.I.; sure as hell not some fish fresh into the tank. “Beat it.”

“Maybe you should listen to what I got to say,” Michael hinted.

“You got nothing I want,” Abruzzi informed the pest at his table.

Michael held his tray in one hand and took an origami crane from his shirt pocket. “Wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Abruzzi chuckled when he saw Michael place the crane on his table, “My mistake. It’s just what I need, a duck.”

Michael ignored Abruzzi’s sarcasm. “P.I. Abruzzi. I might just be more of assistance than you think.” Three of Abruzzi’s thugs stood up in warning making Michael take a step back, “Mull it over and come and find me when you’re ready to talk.”

Abruzzi looked back over his shoulder watching as the fish walked to a single table wondering where the younger man had gotten the balls to approach him. “These new fish today have absolutely no idea of what it means to respect the sharks in the tank, do they?”

******************************************

Michael stood at the closed bars of his cell watching in interest as the guards took bed count. It was 7PM, and no con would leave the cellblock again until the morning except for emergencies. He tried to suppress the fear and dread being locked inside with Ripper for nearly twelve hours was causing to his mindset but every sound the brawny man made caused Michael’s gut to clench in anxiety.

“You need to relax fish,” Ripper grinned from is cot. “Being all tight like that is only going to make it hurt worse.”

Michael closed his eyes trying to block out the images of what Ripper would do to him once the final count had been completed. “I thought I was T-Bag’s.”

“Oh you are, but he gave me permission to take you out for a test drive,” Ripper cruelly teased. “He said I could fuck your pretty mouth and feed you my cum.”

“Not really hungry,” Michael replied gripping the bars tightly.

“Can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you,” Ripper responded roaming his eyes up and down Scofield’s long and lithe body. “You’re going to be fun to break.”

Michael turned to face Ripper, “Just out of curiosity…how much did Bellick charge for me?”

Ripper laughed loudly, “You catch on quick, don’t you?” He jumped down from his cot and stepped into Michael’s personal space, “It’s not really polite to talk price. Why you interested? Want to know if you can buy your freedom?”

Michael refused to step back away from the imminent attack, “No, I just wanted to know the going price for selling new inmates to rapist and pedophiles.”

“Forty-one, Lankford, Scofield,” the C.O. called from the bars as he checked their names off on a clipboard.

Michael watched as the guard walked past their cell and continued on with his count. He pushed his fear down and looked at Ripper in defiance, “How much?”

“Why don’t you discuss that with T tomorrow? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to tell you how much you cost him,” Ripper sadistically grinned. “He always had an appreciation for expensive whores.” When he got no response from Michael he began to unbutton his pants, “Why don’t you pull down that sheet so we can have some privacy?”

Michael looked above the bars and saw a sheet attached to the wall with grey duct tape, “I don’t think so.”

“You want to see everybody on your knees sucking me off?”

“No,” Michael quickly answered. “What exactly are my choices here?”

“The way I see it,” Ripper began licking his lips. “You either suck me off or tonight’s your last night alive.”

Michael mentally kicked himself for never seeing this scenario when making his escape plan. His naive mind had never even considered the possibility, “That doesn’t work for me.”

“Those are your only choices,” Ripper informed Michael pulling out his semi-hard prick.

Michael looked away from the offensive appendage but not before he caught a glimpse of the other man’s impressive size. “I’m sure there is something else I can offer you in return.”

Ripper began stroking himself into full hardness, “You’re out of luck because all I want is your body.”

“What if I could offer you a way out of here?” Michael reluctantly asked.

“No thanks,” Ripper responded before he snapped out like a striking snake turning the fish towards the bars and placing Michael in a choke hold. He pressed his forearm into Michael’s throat rubbing his dick onto the pretty con’s cloth-covered ass. “Pull the fucking curtain down before I snap your neck.”

Michael tore at the other man’s arm but to no avail. The man was a good fifty pounds heavier than him and a couple of inches taller. With a shaking hand, Michael reached up and loosened the curtain watching in dismay as the sheet fell and covered the bars leaving him cut off from the rest of the prison.

“Good boy,” Ripper commented loosening his grip on Michael’s neck but not letting go completely. “That’s a good fishy.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a rapist,” Michael sneered in disgust as the other man humped his thigh and ass with his fully erect shaft.

Ripper placed his mouth near Michael’s ear, “You honestly believed that shit?” He licked and sucked on Michael’s earlobe enjoying the trembles vibrating off the sweet boy’s body. “You’re more gullible than I thought.”

“Get the fuck off me!” Michael yelled.

Rip used his free hand to cover Michael’s mouth, “That’s the only time you make that mistake and live to tell about it…it’s no fair screaming for help.”

Michael could smell the sweat and musk of the other man’s skin and felt a wave of nausea knowing that he was trapped with no way out of the mess he had found himself in. He shook his head in understanding and Ripper pulled his hand away, “What do I have to do to get his over with as quickly as possible?”

Ripper slowly smiled knowing that his prey had finally realized he was trapped, “First, I’m going to let you go and then you’re going to drop to your knees, understand?”

Michael sighed in defeat, “Yes.”

Ripper released Michael and watched as the fish dropped gracefully to his knees. He rubbed his thumb over the boy’s bottom lip, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a cock-sucking mouth?”

“I would say thank you for that high compliment but somehow it just doesn’t seem right,” Michael responded angrily.

Ripper playfully slapped Michael’s face, “Keep talking to me like that and you’ll have bruises all over that pretty face of yours.”

“And T would be cool with you damaging his merchandise?”

Rip slapped Michael’s face harder causing the younger man’s head to snap to the side. “T’s never had a problem with bruises. He’s not going to fuck your bruises.” He grabbed Michael’s chin and squeezed it tightly, “You ever sucked dick before?”

“No,” Michael whispered beginning to feel truly terrified.

“I’ll teach you baby,” Ripper cooed. “I wouldn’t want you to give T-Bag a bad blow job. He’s killed for less.” Ripper pushed his pants and boxer down to his ankles, “Take off your shirt.”

Michael slowly pushed his blue shirt off his shoulders leaving him in his grey long-sleeved t-shirt watching as the large throbbing cock bobbed in front of his face. “What now?”

“That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out college boy,” Ripper smiled as he took Michael’s blue shirt in his hands. “Put it the fuck in your mouth and suck on it. Ain’t you ever had a blow job before?” He watched as Michael’s perfect mouth inched closer to his prick, “Come on fish. Put it in your mouth.” He watched in avid fascination as the smaller man timidly stuck his tongue out and licked the mushroom head of Rip’s engorged shaft. “That’s it boy…your tongue feels fucking good.”

Michael placed his hands on his own thighs and continued licking despite the revulsion he was feeling. Sucking cock wasn’t exactly part of his plan, and he knew that this was just the beginning of the Purity’s plans for him. All he could do was cooperate so he could live long enough to get Lincoln out of the snake pit.

“Stay with me Scofield. Don’t go wondering off in your head trying to pretend that this isn’t happening,” Ripper warned.

Michael looked up into the man’s cruel eyes, “Excuse me for trying to block this oh so wonderful experience out.”

Rip grabbed Michael’s chin and pushed him down onto the concrete floor leaving his thighs and calves painfully pinned underneath his body. “I warned you fish.”

Michael grimaced in discomfort as his body was contorted into the awkward position. His long legs were trapped underneath his ass; his prison boots digging into his lower back, “I’m sorry…please let me go.”

Ripper straddled the immobile boy’s slender body and placed his crotch at Michael’s mouth, “Fuck no. I warned you and now you have to pay the price.” He released Michael’s chin and instead grabbed the back of the fish’s neck and lifted his head up off the floor so he could fuck Michael’s mouth. “Open that mouth boy or I will break you jaw and don’t even think about biting me.”

Michael opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and placed his hands flat on the ground clawing at the concrete floor as the con shoved his fat leaking cock into his mouth. Michael gagged instantly as the man pushed the tip of his prick up against the back of his throat.

“You’ll get use to it boy,” Ripper laughed as the pretty con gagged on his intrusive dick. “Come on Michael…take it like a big boy…take that fat cock.” Rip took the blue shirt from his other hand and wrapped it around the back of Michael’s neck holding onto the ends of the shirt like he was reining in a horse. “That’s it baby…such a hot mouth.” Rip used the shirt to pull and tug at Michael’s head as he slammed in and out of the fish’s mouth smiling in amusement as the boy struggled to breathe, “Such a filthy mouth…just begging for my spunk.”

Michael felt his eyes going into the back of his head as his mouth was pummeled and his air was cut off. He could feel hot tears of shame and pain cascading down his cheeks as he was violated and degraded by Ripper. His always busy mind took in the details of the smell of Ripper’s testicles and pubic hair, the slightly bitter taste of leaking precum, the sound of a dick being slammed into his mouth past his aching lips, and the dizziness caused by the lack of oxygen.

“Open your fucking eyes bitch,” Ripper demanded. “I want to see you looking at me when I shoot my load down your throat.” Ripper took in the tears and spat on Michael’s swollen lips as he pushed past them, “You are fucking amazing boy…so fucking pretty.” Rip felt his release barreling full speed up his cock and lost it completely when he looked into the fish’s amazing tear-filled blue eyes, “Here it is baby…take it all down like a good fishy.”

Michael felt the warm thick semen shooting into this mouth sliding down his throat and tried desperately to swallow it all before he choked on the bitter milky fluid but Michael could feel some of it dripping down his chin.

Ripper smiled in pleasure as his new toy swallowed his cum like a pro, “Damn, you’re good…T’s going to love your fucking mouth.” He relaxed and let go of the shirt allowing Michael to rest his head on the floor, “You sure you haven’t done that before?”

Michael wiped the back of his hand across his mouth trying to get the spit and cooling spunk of his mouth, “Can you please get off of me?”

“Since you asked so nice,” Ripper replied standing up on slightly unsteady legs. He offered Michael a hand and pulled him to his feet, “Whatever T paid for you was well worth it.”

Michael pulled his hand out of Rip’s grip and went over to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face trying to keep in the sarcastic reply just begging to be said. He knew that he was going to have to learn control of his mouth if he wanted to live long enough to get Lincoln out.

“You’re a quick learner Scofield,” Ripper remarked putting his softening cock back into his pants. “Keep it up and you might just live through tomorrow.” He jumped up onto his bunk and rolled the sheet back up and secured it with the tape, “And that is something my dick would love to see happen.”

Michael silently walked to his bunk and slipped inside out of Ripper’s eyesight hoping that the man would soon be asleep so he could concentrate on the next step of his plan rather than waiting around for another attack. He knew that all the humiliation and pain would all be worth it once Lincoln and he were outside the walls of Fox River but it wasn’t going to be easy being the sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter.

 

 

Part IV coming soon.

Feedback is appreciated and is motivating:

darkestangel@darknessprevails.com

 

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