Scouts Honor, I swear I Am Straight.
Author: Kinkylittlered
Pairing: Shassie
Word Count: 1739
Warnings: Porn, Slash
Summary: Carlton Lassiter was not questioning his sexuality at all, especially not because of a certain psychic
A/N: Posted at 4am, I totally didn't read through this so I hope it makes sense.
The problem with Shawn Spencer was that his charm was more deadly than the black plague. Detective Carlton Lassiter had discovered this shortly after walking into the interrogation room to question a man who in his book was clearly trying to sell out his partner in crime. The problem was that Shawn Spencer practically danced circles around Lassiter in the interrogation room; his eyes alight with a mischief that would be adorable if it weren’t so agitating. From the moment that the young man announced that he was in fact a psychic, Carlton had sensed a decline in his career. At first he thought that he was becoming paranoid and was able to at least partially convince himself that Spencer was no more a threat than any other civilian, after all the man clearly wasn’t psychic. Except… that within two cases Lassiter had begun to lose his resolve, he actually started to wonder if maybe the man actually possessed some gift.
The mystery alone was enough to drive Lassiter mad, but Shawn Spencer could not stop at simply undermining the miserable detective, no, he had to confuse him as well. At first Lassiter had written off the strange anxiety he began to feel whenever Shawn strutted through the station as a form of resentment with a side of envy. Then, in his usual manner, Shawn had ruined everything. It had only taken one over dramatic vision ending in Shawn draped over Lassiter’s lap for it to suddenly hit the older man where he lived. He had a crush on the stupid psychic detective with his stupid hand gestures and his stupid obscure 80’s references. To make matters far worse his body had also decided that it was appropriate to sport a bonner in front of several witnesses, while another man wiggled about on his lap.
Even this was not quite enough proof for the detective, after all he had been divorced for sometime and with his old lover being reassigned he hadn’t gotten his kicks in quite sometime. He wasn’t gay; he was just pent up and frustrated. Sure, a part of Lassiter’s brain kept nagging, desperately trying to pull the threads of his denial to unwove and reveal the entirety of his feelings for the psychic. Lassiter was having none of that though and he began to build up walls, insisting that the other man be kept at a safe distance. Well, right up until he suddenly found himself blocking the way as Spencer tried to enter a crime scene. He had only been working with the man for a short time but he had already come to predict Spencer’s inability to wait for an invitation to a crime scene. Shawn had barged onto the scene, charmed Juliet and then took a step towards the body.
“We don’t need your help Spencer, go home.” Lassiter scoffed and stepped in front of the younger man, blocking is path.
“But your eyes say yes.” Shawn pouted and peeked around Lassiter, drawing the detective’s eyes to his long neck and succulent looking lips.
“Get out of here, we don’t need you contaminating the crime scene and making a mockery of police procedure.” Lassiter straightened and gave Shawn his best glare, his blue eyes shinning with what he hoped was danger, not repressed sexual feelings.
“I think you need me Lassie.” Shawn stared at Lassiter for a moment, his hazel eyes scanning the detective’s face, his eyebrows pulled together.
Thankful Shawn left without a fit, and remained strangely distant for several days. At first Lassiter had thanked some higher being for allowing him time away from the young, and strangely hypnotic psychic, but slowly he began to grow anxious and worry that Spencer actually may have felt his totally and completely nonexistent sexual desire. The fear had crept up like the shadows at the end of a long summer day, and suddenly Lassiter found himself in darkness, almost tripping himself as he Shawn Spencer pranced into the Chief’s office like he owned it.
It was becoming alarmingly clear that Carlton Lassiter’s clearly heterosexuality was being questioned and failing to answer the odd swirling in Lassiter’s gut. He let a vagrant thought cross his mind, had he actually missed Shawn? Once the thought sunk it’s teeth into Lassiter’s mind it was nearly impossible to remove. Lassiter stared through the slotted blinds at the young psychic with his stupid smile and his stupidly well-placed layers of shirts. He hated him. In fact, he hated him so much that he couldn’t help but follow the younger man to the restroom full of intent and burning with desire. Obviously not a sexual desire for another man, no Carlton Lassiter was burning with hatred. Really, there were no sexual impulses driving him to walk faster towards the bathroom, scouts honor.
He had a whole speech worked out about psychics being a bigger waste of department resources than mandatory therapy for officers who had shot someone. He really did have it all worked out, how he would push Spencer into one of the stalls and have a firm talk with the man. His intentions however pure were thrown out the window as soon as he actually got Spencer into the stall. The younger man looked mildly shocked and then the slow smolder of arousal began to light up his features, his eyes drifting down the head detective’s body and then back up to stare once more. All the words that Lassiter had so carefully planned flew out the window on little gay wings and he suddenly found himself leaning forward as though to kiss the psychic. As soon as Lassiter’s brain caught up to the movement he froze and reminded himself that he was not gay. In fact he was so straight that he had never had a gay thought in his life, well unless you count the few times that Shawn’s-no, Spencer’s face had flashed before him as he came after jacking off furiously. But that was totally and completely normal.
Carlton began to think of ways to justify the movement when suddenly he felt soft, plush lips against his own. The kiss was small, lasting for all of three seconds, and then it was over and Lassiter suddenly couldn’t breathe. All at once his lips collided with Shawn’s again, only this time it was rough and filled with clear intentions. Shawn’s hips rocked against his in obvious invitation and Lassiter could feel hands messing up his perfectly combed hair. Nimble fingers worked his belt and button, releasing some of the pressure pushing down on his suddenly impossibly hard cock.
The intelligent portion of his brain screamed that he should stop, back away and pretend that this particular incident had never happened. He still had time to find a bar a pick up some sleazy middle-aged woman that was desperate for attention after her had marriage ended in the same way Lassiter’s had. A bigger portion said fuck logic and dry humped Shawn’s hand, pleading for the younger man to free his burning flesh. Right on queue Shawn did exactly that, unbuttoning and unzipping Lassiter as quickly as possible. Lassiter was normal a quite man in bed, but the moment that Shawn’s hand wrapped around his erection all coherent thought left and moans seemed to sound on their own regard.
“Shh” Shawn’s breath was warm against Lassiter’s lips, causing him to thrust into the hand holding him. “You don’t want anyone thinking this is-“ Lassiter cut off the end of what he was sure was an 80’s reference with kiss.
Shawn pulled his lips away and just as Lassiter was about to protest, fell to his knees. Lassiter stared down in awe as the young man sucked him down whole in one fluid movement, his cockhead hitting the back of Shawn’s throat. For a second there was a bit of a cough and then Shawn was bobbing his head and sucking as though his life depended on it. Shawn rubbed his jean clad erection at the same pace as he bobbed his head, a damp spot darkening his pants. Lassiter panted and grabbed the stall wall, desperately trying to hold off his orgasm.
Lassiter managed to get out a chocked “I’m gonna”, giving Shawn just enough time to pull of his cock, and then he was coming all over the younger man’s face. Shawn let out a breathy moan and his eyes slammed closed as he gripped Lassiter’s hips for dear life, his own cum soaking through his jeans. For a moment Lassiter let himself sway, staring down at the mess he had made on the younger man. His cock gave a small twitch and forced himself to swallow hard to keep from saying something he might not regret later, something about how incredibly hot it was seeing the arrogant Shawn Spencer on his knees, covered in warm cum. His silence lasted all of thirty seconds and then suddenly he was speaking.
“I swear I am straight.” Lassiter leaned heavily against the stall door and sighed, guilt and regret swirling inside of him.
“I um yeah, that’s cool.” Shawn pulled himself up and began wadding up tissue in a desperate attempt to clean the cum off of his face. “Uh, this isn’t really getting me clean so I’m just going to squeeze around you.”
Shawn went to maneuver between Lassiter and the door only to find himself bombarded by a sudden and completely unexpected, though clearly not gay because Carlton Lassiter was not gay, kiss. It was brief, but when the detective pulled back he licked the slowly drying cum off of his lips it nearly caused Shawn to have a second orgasm. He leaned back against the wall, his head spinning slightly from the sudden lack of blood.
“No, that was completely straight. Listen would you consider having a completely and totally straight movie night with me? Maybe order some straight take out with a side order of straight pineapple upside down cake?”
“You asking me on a date Spencer?” Lassiter’s eyebrows pulled together and he stared at the younger man with what he was sure was complete confusion and angst.
“No, I’m saying let’s watch Two Men and a Baby and then you can stay over and protect me from the scary ghost kid.” Shawn winked and then opened the stall door, leaving Lassiter standing with wide eyes. “Also you owe me a blowjob.”
Chapter 2
Pairing: Shassie
Word Count: 1739
Warnings: Porn, Slash
Summary: Carlton Lassiter was not questioning his sexuality at all, especially not because of a certain psychic
A/N: Posted at 4am, I totally didn't read through this so I hope it makes sense.
The problem with Shawn Spencer was that his charm was more deadly than the black plague. Detective Carlton Lassiter had discovered this shortly after walking into the interrogation room to question a man who in his book was clearly trying to sell out his partner in crime. The problem was that Shawn Spencer practically danced circles around Lassiter in the interrogation room; his eyes alight with a mischief that would be adorable if it weren’t so agitating. From the moment that the young man announced that he was in fact a psychic, Carlton had sensed a decline in his career. At first he thought that he was becoming paranoid and was able to at least partially convince himself that Spencer was no more a threat than any other civilian, after all the man clearly wasn’t psychic. Except… that within two cases Lassiter had begun to lose his resolve, he actually started to wonder if maybe the man actually possessed some gift.
The mystery alone was enough to drive Lassiter mad, but Shawn Spencer could not stop at simply undermining the miserable detective, no, he had to confuse him as well. At first Lassiter had written off the strange anxiety he began to feel whenever Shawn strutted through the station as a form of resentment with a side of envy. Then, in his usual manner, Shawn had ruined everything. It had only taken one over dramatic vision ending in Shawn draped over Lassiter’s lap for it to suddenly hit the older man where he lived. He had a crush on the stupid psychic detective with his stupid hand gestures and his stupid obscure 80’s references. To make matters far worse his body had also decided that it was appropriate to sport a bonner in front of several witnesses, while another man wiggled about on his lap.
Even this was not quite enough proof for the detective, after all he had been divorced for sometime and with his old lover being reassigned he hadn’t gotten his kicks in quite sometime. He wasn’t gay; he was just pent up and frustrated. Sure, a part of Lassiter’s brain kept nagging, desperately trying to pull the threads of his denial to unwove and reveal the entirety of his feelings for the psychic. Lassiter was having none of that though and he began to build up walls, insisting that the other man be kept at a safe distance. Well, right up until he suddenly found himself blocking the way as Spencer tried to enter a crime scene. He had only been working with the man for a short time but he had already come to predict Spencer’s inability to wait for an invitation to a crime scene. Shawn had barged onto the scene, charmed Juliet and then took a step towards the body.
“We don’t need your help Spencer, go home.” Lassiter scoffed and stepped in front of the younger man, blocking is path.
“But your eyes say yes.” Shawn pouted and peeked around Lassiter, drawing the detective’s eyes to his long neck and succulent looking lips.
“Get out of here, we don’t need you contaminating the crime scene and making a mockery of police procedure.” Lassiter straightened and gave Shawn his best glare, his blue eyes shinning with what he hoped was danger, not repressed sexual feelings.
“I think you need me Lassie.” Shawn stared at Lassiter for a moment, his hazel eyes scanning the detective’s face, his eyebrows pulled together.
Thankful Shawn left without a fit, and remained strangely distant for several days. At first Lassiter had thanked some higher being for allowing him time away from the young, and strangely hypnotic psychic, but slowly he began to grow anxious and worry that Spencer actually may have felt his totally and completely nonexistent sexual desire. The fear had crept up like the shadows at the end of a long summer day, and suddenly Lassiter found himself in darkness, almost tripping himself as he Shawn Spencer pranced into the Chief’s office like he owned it.
It was becoming alarmingly clear that Carlton Lassiter’s clearly heterosexuality was being questioned and failing to answer the odd swirling in Lassiter’s gut. He let a vagrant thought cross his mind, had he actually missed Shawn? Once the thought sunk it’s teeth into Lassiter’s mind it was nearly impossible to remove. Lassiter stared through the slotted blinds at the young psychic with his stupid smile and his stupidly well-placed layers of shirts. He hated him. In fact, he hated him so much that he couldn’t help but follow the younger man to the restroom full of intent and burning with desire. Obviously not a sexual desire for another man, no Carlton Lassiter was burning with hatred. Really, there were no sexual impulses driving him to walk faster towards the bathroom, scouts honor.
He had a whole speech worked out about psychics being a bigger waste of department resources than mandatory therapy for officers who had shot someone. He really did have it all worked out, how he would push Spencer into one of the stalls and have a firm talk with the man. His intentions however pure were thrown out the window as soon as he actually got Spencer into the stall. The younger man looked mildly shocked and then the slow smolder of arousal began to light up his features, his eyes drifting down the head detective’s body and then back up to stare once more. All the words that Lassiter had so carefully planned flew out the window on little gay wings and he suddenly found himself leaning forward as though to kiss the psychic. As soon as Lassiter’s brain caught up to the movement he froze and reminded himself that he was not gay. In fact he was so straight that he had never had a gay thought in his life, well unless you count the few times that Shawn’s-no, Spencer’s face had flashed before him as he came after jacking off furiously. But that was totally and completely normal.
Carlton began to think of ways to justify the movement when suddenly he felt soft, plush lips against his own. The kiss was small, lasting for all of three seconds, and then it was over and Lassiter suddenly couldn’t breathe. All at once his lips collided with Shawn’s again, only this time it was rough and filled with clear intentions. Shawn’s hips rocked against his in obvious invitation and Lassiter could feel hands messing up his perfectly combed hair. Nimble fingers worked his belt and button, releasing some of the pressure pushing down on his suddenly impossibly hard cock.
The intelligent portion of his brain screamed that he should stop, back away and pretend that this particular incident had never happened. He still had time to find a bar a pick up some sleazy middle-aged woman that was desperate for attention after her had marriage ended in the same way Lassiter’s had. A bigger portion said fuck logic and dry humped Shawn’s hand, pleading for the younger man to free his burning flesh. Right on queue Shawn did exactly that, unbuttoning and unzipping Lassiter as quickly as possible. Lassiter was normal a quite man in bed, but the moment that Shawn’s hand wrapped around his erection all coherent thought left and moans seemed to sound on their own regard.
“Shh” Shawn’s breath was warm against Lassiter’s lips, causing him to thrust into the hand holding him. “You don’t want anyone thinking this is-“ Lassiter cut off the end of what he was sure was an 80’s reference with kiss.
Shawn pulled his lips away and just as Lassiter was about to protest, fell to his knees. Lassiter stared down in awe as the young man sucked him down whole in one fluid movement, his cockhead hitting the back of Shawn’s throat. For a second there was a bit of a cough and then Shawn was bobbing his head and sucking as though his life depended on it. Shawn rubbed his jean clad erection at the same pace as he bobbed his head, a damp spot darkening his pants. Lassiter panted and grabbed the stall wall, desperately trying to hold off his orgasm.
Lassiter managed to get out a chocked “I’m gonna”, giving Shawn just enough time to pull of his cock, and then he was coming all over the younger man’s face. Shawn let out a breathy moan and his eyes slammed closed as he gripped Lassiter’s hips for dear life, his own cum soaking through his jeans. For a moment Lassiter let himself sway, staring down at the mess he had made on the younger man. His cock gave a small twitch and forced himself to swallow hard to keep from saying something he might not regret later, something about how incredibly hot it was seeing the arrogant Shawn Spencer on his knees, covered in warm cum. His silence lasted all of thirty seconds and then suddenly he was speaking.
“I swear I am straight.” Lassiter leaned heavily against the stall door and sighed, guilt and regret swirling inside of him.
“I um yeah, that’s cool.” Shawn pulled himself up and began wadding up tissue in a desperate attempt to clean the cum off of his face. “Uh, this isn’t really getting me clean so I’m just going to squeeze around you.”
Shawn went to maneuver between Lassiter and the door only to find himself bombarded by a sudden and completely unexpected, though clearly not gay because Carlton Lassiter was not gay, kiss. It was brief, but when the detective pulled back he licked the slowly drying cum off of his lips it nearly caused Shawn to have a second orgasm. He leaned back against the wall, his head spinning slightly from the sudden lack of blood.
“No, that was completely straight. Listen would you consider having a completely and totally straight movie night with me? Maybe order some straight take out with a side order of straight pineapple upside down cake?”
“You asking me on a date Spencer?” Lassiter’s eyebrows pulled together and he stared at the younger man with what he was sure was complete confusion and angst.
“No, I’m saying let’s watch Two Men and a Baby and then you can stay over and protect me from the scary ghost kid.” Shawn winked and then opened the stall door, leaving Lassiter standing with wide eyes. “Also you owe me a blowjob.”
Chapter 2