Work Text
fic: lost weekendLindsay never really liked the aromatic soaps Tobias gives her for Christmas anyway, and and the scent never really grew on him either, Michael thought, picking up the now half-empty bottle of soap from the linoleum floor and rinsing the evidence spillage down the drain, hoping his… whatever-she-was-that-day wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t seem to keep up with their relationship status: twin, cock-tease, ex-sister, fucking cock-tease, forbidden fantasy (?), cock-tease. He couldn’t (wouldn’t, shouldn’t) keep up after the 3rd cock-tease.
+There is that lost weekend in Cabo that neither of them talks about anymore - or ever for that matter (unless they were really wasted, I’m talking shit-faced drunk). It started with an innocent dare, Michael said: “swallow a whole chili-pepper.” And Lindsay, always trying to one-up her brother, devours not one, but a whole jar of pickled chili-peppers, seconds later yelling, “Jesus, it burns!”What followed next includes a lot of screaming- surprisingly from Michael- at Lindsay’s swollen lips, a temporary inability to taste for Lindsay - which she figured could help her lose that last 5 pounds - and milk, a whole carton, dripping from her hungry lips, streaming down her porcelain neck and seeping into her blouse. Michael cleared his throat, suddenly regretting the dare. Well, not really. He could almost make a faint outline of her nipple. You, sick bastard. He was almost sure Lindsay smiled, licking her lips. God, Michael was headed to hell and she was going be the one to take him there. He looked away. +They don’t talk about what happened in Cabo. Ever. Maybe because Lindsay didn’t really lose that last ten pounds. Or maybe because Michael still gets a hard on thinking about it. +“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Michael cussed under his breath, grabbing for the towel in a desperate attempt to cover himself. “Ever heard of knocking?” Lindsay smiled at him in response, lingering on his doorway, eyes flicking to his waist. “What are you looking at?” “Nothing,” she said, her eyes still eyeing the towel barely serving its purpose, then she smiled that sultry smile again and looked him straight in the eye. “See you in the shower.” Michael almost choked. “What?”“The baby shower, silly.” Michael responded with a soft ‘oh’ like he couldn’t understand what she’d just said even though a part of him knew he should. “Georgina, or…” Lindsay raised an eyebrow at his blank stare. “George Michael if it’s a boy?”“Oh!” +Michael doesn't see Lindsay for another month. Maybe two. Enough for him to forget. Okay, maybe a year, 7 months and 8 days. +"Well?" Lindsay barely looked up from her magazine. Michael grinned. "It's a boy!""Congratulations, Michael." (Then he let her hug him for the first time in forever. )+Lindsay was not a hugger. If anything she could survive without physical touch. But when it came to Michael… Shit, what was she saying. Erm, Tobias… Who was she kidding, a day old banana turned her on more than her never-nude husband naked. No, when it came to Michael… Michael in an ugly-looking, mustard colored sweater covered in grime would get her off. She stopped. At this point, she had already gone beyond ‘wrong.’ God, Michael slick with sweat, all filthy, covered in grime - Fucking hell. +Yeah, hell. That's where she might end up if this doesn't stop. +They never talk about that weekend in Cabo, anymore. Maybe because Michael still got hard thinking about it, sometimes. And because Lindsay didn't lose the last 11 pounds.+ Or, if she was being honest with herself, because it made her want to fuck Michael
because it made her want to fuck (Michael)
Because it made her want to fuck; so bad.
But you know she'll never admit it.