Chapter Text
Maricruz’s Preeminence (1)
He freaked out when he woke up and the events of the previous night came back to him.
It’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to remember slowly or, on the contrary, that hits and knocks you out, but in both cases, there should be no possible doubt about what happened. It didn’t quite occur that way. He had flashes of hands sliding, grabbing, fondling, and echoes of murmurs and panting. For almost an hour, he wonders if the memories were real or just bits and pieces of a weird dream.
C-Note asking him in the showers who the hell had left such marks on him – forefinger inquisitively pointed to the developing bruises on his back – sort of confirmed the reality of the whole thing.
Shit.
He spends a fair amount of the day making a list of arguments. Avoiding meeting Michael’s eyes (and keeping his distance with Burrows because you never know) and making a list of arguments.
Firstly, he doesn’t like men. Well... actually he does. He’s not a misothrope... misan... whatever. The point is, he has nothing against humankind, even though some people are pretty despicable. It’s just that he doesn’t like men... guys like that. (He tries hard not to think about the way he gripped the bed bar and clenched his teeth so as to not beg Michael to do this thing again... and this one... and... Damn.)
Secondly, he loves Maricruz. She’s pretty and soft and perfect. And she’s a woman. Sucre might have lost his chance to make a beeline for Heaven when he dies because he knocked her up out of wedlock, but if he does the right thing at the right time, it could still work out. (He tries hard not to think about the way Michael was looking at him with a small devilish smirk on his lips, and about the absolutely divine sensations Michael’s mouth was creating on various parts of his body.)
Thirdly, Maricruz is having his baby. His son. But if the baby turns out to be a girl, it will be perfectly fine too. Sucre has responsibilities now and he will carry them out. It implies, among other things, fidelity. (He tries hard not to think about Maricurz’s fidelity.)
He explains all that stuff to Michael when they’re alone in their cell at the end of the day. Almost calmly and without stuttering under the Fish’s quiet and amused look.
Then Michael politely asks him to put the sheet up and, while his throat tightens with nervousness, Sucre wonders whether he should hope or fear that his explanations have been heard and accepted.