Who's Your Diadem?
Who's Your Diadem?
Author: plainapple
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Shawn/Lassiter
Wordcount: 2,143
Warning: daddy!kink, spanking, SPOILERS: Shawn and Gus in Drag (Racing)
Disclaimer: This is fan fiction, I make no claims to the copyright ownership of Psych or to its characters.
Summary: Lassiter goes all corporal punishment on Shawn post-Shawn and Gus in Drag (Racing).
Note: For rispacooper, who wanted daddy!kink, as we all do from time to time.
The most important thing, Lassiter reminded himself, was clarity. It was important that Shawn understand this wasn’t arbitrary, that Lassiter wasn’t doing this because he enjoyed it. That’s not to say that he didn’t enjoy it; that just wasn’t the reason for it. Not this time. He ran a hand over Shawn’s skin. Shawn whimpered - in anticipation, Lassiter assumed, or maybe it was an attempt to sound pathetic enough that Lassiter would go easy on him. Not a chance. Lassiter always gave Shawn exactly what he deserved, rewards and punishments parsed out in careful relation to Shawn’s actions, and there was no question that Shawn deserved this. The only question was where to start.
“The use of nitrous oxide in the modification of a vehicle.” Lassiter said, slow and clear, careful to enunciate each word. As he reached the end of his sentence he brought his palm down in one sharp blow on Shawn’s exposed ass.
Shawn jumped a little at the impact and squirmed in Lassiter’s lap. Lassiter’s hips lifted in response. He - unlike Shawn - still had his pants on, but the weight and heat of Shawn was enough to get to him through the fabric. He waited until Shawn had settled to speak again.
“Participating in illegal street racing.” Another blow, followed closely by, “Driving at speeds in excess of fifty miles per hour in a thirty five mile per hour zone.” and a loud, accompanying smack.
“Disregarding the chain of command.” said Lassiter. Shawn snorted. Lassiter brought his hand down twice for the insolence. Smack. Smack.
“Reckless endangerment.” said Lassiter.
“Of who?” asked Shawn before Lassiter could strike, his voice muffled from being face down on the couch.
“Potential bystanders.” Lassiter answered.
“Oh come on,” said Shawn, “What bystanders? Who’s gonna be out on the street at 11:42 at night?”
Lassiter rolled his eyes. Smack. “And Burton Guster.” Lassiter added. Smack.
“And Yourself.” Smack. Lassiter could feel his shoulders inching up towards his ears. It was the kind of tension that he used to only be able to lose after a long session at the range. He still enjoyed time with a piece in his hands, of course, but he’d found a few new outlets for his stress as well. It was good to diversify.
“Letting yourself be held at gunpoint.” Lassiter grumbled. Smack. “Inciting me to assault you.” Smack. And that reminded him…
“Disrespecting the memory and the legacy of the greatest man these United States of America has ever had the pleasure to call President.” Smack.
“How did I disrespect Franklin Roosevelt?” asked Shawn.
Smack.
Lassiter took a deep breath. Shawn was starting to look a little pink. Good. He’d need to be warmed up for this. “Bribery of an officer of the law.”
“Bribery!” Shawn protested, “I didn’t bribe anyone!”
“Rice Crispy squares?”
“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a diversion.”
“Fine. Maliciously interfering with an officer during his course of duty.” Lassiter waited for Shawn to object. When he didn’t, he brought his hand down three times, sharp and quick.
Lassiter flexed his hand readying it for the next blows. “Theft,” he hissed, “Of a motor vehicle and evidence in a homicide investigation from police custody.”
Five this time, with a long pause between each one so every impact would sink in.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
“Tampering with said evidence.”
Smack.
“Aiding and abetting in the escape of a suspected murder.”
“Oh, come on.” said Shawn, “You didn’t suspect him of anything when…”
“Quiet.” snapped Lassiter.
“But…”
“Be. Quiet.” said Lassiter, in a voice he hoped conveyed how seriously this particular set of infractions was to be taken. He waited. Shawn didn’t speak.
“Aiding and abetting in the escape of a suspected murder.” Lassiter repeated.
Smack.
Smack.
“Participating in the negotiation of the release of a kidnapping victim.”
Smack.
“Without….”
Smack.
“Coming….”
Smack.
“To…”
Smack.
“Me.”
Smack.
“Almost getting your god damned little ass killed.”
Smack.
“For some thieving….”
Smack.
“Murdering…”
Smack.
“Criminal…”
Smack.
“Scum.”
Smack!
Lassiter winced. His hand was starting to feel the stings about as much as Shawn had to be. Shawn, almost raspberry red now, quiet and still in his lap. Eerily quiet, almost a dead weight. Only the sound of his soft, shaky breath giving away how present he was. How many had it been? Twenty five, at least. Lassiter had lost count. On most nights, that would be enough, but Lassiter needed more. He tested Shawn’s skin with two fingertips. Hot. He pushed down a little into the flesh, and Shawn hissed. When he pulled his hand away there were two white little marks where his fingers had been. They quickly filled in with red again.
“Did I forget anything?” Lassiter asked.
“Uh… the popcorn.” said Shawn.
Lassiter frowned. It took him a moment to remember what Shawn meant. “Littering on city owned property .” Smack.
“I ignored your yellow tape.” said Shawn.
“Crossing a police line without authority to do so.” said Lassiter. Smack.
“I, um…” Shawn’s voice was breathy and Lassiter noticed he was clutching at the cushion under his hands. Lassiter considered letting Shawn up, but no. Shawn wouldn’t be reminding Lassiter of his indiscretions if he didn’t want more.
“I… sang your danger music.” said Shawn.
Lassiter suppressed a chuckle. It took a moment of drumming his fingers against Shawn before he thought of an appropriate response. “Copyright infringement.” Smack.
“Bullshit.” Shawn mumbled, “It was fair use.”
This time the laugh left Lassiter’s lips before he could stop it. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Tommy.” said Shawn. “He… he was….”
Lassiter didn’t need to ask what Shawn meant. He wished he did, but Shawn had made it so damned obvious. At least he was being honest about it. There was some grace in that.
“Flirting.” Lassiter said, his voice unexpectedly soft. When his hand came down on Shawn it was nearly gentle. He didn’t pull it back right away, just let it rest, appreciating the heat beneath him.
“Acting like you forgot…” he kneaded the round curve of Shawn’s ass, then pinched it hard enough that it would be sure to bruise, “That you were my boy.” Lassiter muttered.
Shawn made a choked little mumble, like he could barely keep himself from answering. Lassiter didn’t smile, but he felt the tight muscles around his eyes and mouth relax. “I know.” he said, “I know you didn’t really forget, did you?”
Shawn shook his head. Lassiter rubbed his hand in wide circles over Shawn and Shawn arched up in response. “It’s okay.” said Lassiter, “You can say it. Did you forget Shawn?”
“No.” Shawn answered, his voice thick and wet.
“Who’s boy are you?” Lassiter asked.
“Yours.” Shawn whispered.
“Who’s?” Lassiter asked again, running his finger between Shawn’s cheeks.
“Yours.” Shawn repeated, a little louder. Not nearly loud enough for Lassiter’s taste. He sought out Shawn’s hole with his fingertip.
“Who’s boy are you?” he asked again, pressing ever so slightly.
“Yours!” Shawn gasped, “Yours, oh god, I’m your boy da… deh… dey… uh… dem.”
Lassiter froze. “Did you just call me a diadem?” he asked.
“Um… yes?” asked Shawn.
“As in a tiara?” asked Lassiter.
“Yes.” said Shawn, “Because you’re… uh… the prom queen of the high school that’s my heart.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are Lassie. The prom queen and the quarter back.”
“I see.”
“And the class president.”
“Right.”
“And the, um… hall monitor.”
“Up.”
“What?” Shawn asked.
“Sit up.” said Lassiter.
Shawn slowly pushed himself up to his knees. Lassiter guided him until he was straddling his lap with his ass resting gingerly on Lassiter’s legs. Shawn was chewing on his lip and avoiding eye contact. Lassiter smiled, he couldn’t help it, shy looked so fucking cute on Shawn. He took Shawn’s chin in his hand and forced his head up.
“Look at me.” Lassiter instructed. “Look at me, and tell me - and don’t you dare lie to me - tell me what you were going to say.”
“Lassie…” Shawn answered helplessly.
“No.” said Lassiter, “That wasn’t it. We both know that wasn’t it. Come on Shawn. You think I don’t know what I heard?”
Shawn’s eyes went wide, he swallowed nervously. “Look, Lassie, please don’t… I wasn’t thinking and I swear it’s not some weird… I mean, yeah, my relationship with Henry is a little… but it’s got nothing to…”
“It’s got nothing to do with Henry.” said Lassiter, “I know.” Lassiter dropped his hand to Shawn’s cock and took it in his fist, running his palm up and down the length in slow, languid strokes. “Henry is your father.” Lassiter leaned in close, turning Shawn’s head to the side he could whisper in his ear, “But he’s not your daddy, is he?”
“Lass!” Shawn squawked.
Lassiter’s smile widened. He could almost hear the blush spreading across Shawn’s cheeks. “He’s not?” Lassiter asked again, “Is he?” He twisted his wrist a little.
Shawn gave a soft ‘mmpfh’ that could have been taken as agreement.
“No he’s not.” Lassiter affirmed, “So who is, Shawn?”
Shawn let out a loud - clearly forced - laugh. “Who’s your daddy, Lassie? Really?”
Lassiter flicked out his tongue and pulled Shawn’s earlobe into his mouth. He sucked it gently against the flat of his teeth and sped his hand until Shawn’s laughing gave way to a soft moan. Lassiter released Shawn’s ear and gave it a soft kiss before asking, “Who takes care of you Shawn?”
“Mmm, uhm, you do Lassie.”
“When you need it, who do you come to take care of you?”
“To you.” Shawn answered.
“And why is that?”
“Ummm… I… I like…” Shawn struggled for the words. That was fine. Lassiter already knew the answer.
“It’s because I know what you need, don’t I? I always know,” Lassiter paused long enough to kiss a few times at Shawn’s cheek, “Exactly what you need.”
“Yes Lassie.”
“I know you.” said Lassiter, “I know when you’ve been good….”
“Mmhmm.”
“And when you’ve been bad.”
“Oh god.” Shawn gasped, bucking up into Lassiter’s hand.
“And you are bad, aren’t you Shawn? Aren’t you a shameless little whore?”
“Lassie, Lassie…”
“You know you are. You know you are. That’s why you let me do this to you. That’s why you let me put you over my knee. That’s why you beg for it, because you know. Because you know you deserve it. Slut. Liar. Fraud.”
“Yes!” Shawn gasped. He was practically bouncing in Lassiter’s lap now, almost like he was trying to ride him through his trousers. Lassiter ground up against him, working Shawn’s cock hard with one hand while he held the other flat to the small of Shawn’s back.
“You come to me because I know I’ll punish you like you deserve, and because you know,” said Lassiter, “Because you know, don’t you baby, you know whatever you’ve done, no matter what it is, that I’ll always, always forgive you, won’t I?”
Shawn threw back his head and moaned. He was close. Lassiter stayed his hand. He wanted to hear it, needed to hear it before Shawn came. He doubted Shawn would say it afterwards.
“Answer me.” Lassiter insisted, “Tell me that you know I’ll always forgive you, always take care of you, always love you, tell me you know I will.”
“Yes.” Shawn groaned, “Yes, yes, I know. Please Lassie, please, please…”
“And tell me why.”
“Because….” Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, “Because you’re my daddy.” he whispered.
“You’re damned fucking right I am.” Lassiter slid his hand up Shawn’s back and gripped it into Shawn’s hair, pulling him into a rough kiss. He started his hand again, Shawn squirmed and thrust against it moaning into Lassiter’s mouth.
“Mmmh, muh!” Shawn pulled back and took a deep breath of air, “God, god yes Lass… Lass, d… daddy, yes daddy…”
“Love it.” Lassiter snarled, “You love it boy.”
“Yes, yes, sweet… good, daddy, so good. Be good for you just please… there, there! Close, so…” Shawn’s words dissolved into a long, sustained groan as he came into Lassiter’s hand. Lassiter growled his approval and worked Shawn until he collapsed against his chest, a hot, sticky, perfect little mess.
“There’s my good boy.” Lassiter whispered, wiping his hand on his pants leg. Unsanitary, perhaps, but they’d need to be cleaned anyway and he was in no mood to go looking for a towel.
“Again…” Shawn requested.
“Good boy.” Lassiter repeated, “You’re my good, sweet boy, aren’t you Shawn?”
Shawn nuzzled his head into the crook of Lassiter’s neck, “Yes, daddy.”
“Hmmm. Yes.” said Lassiter, “Yes.” He let Shawn rest for a moment, stroking his hair and rubbing small circles over his back until his own need became too much to ignore. “Shawn?” Lassiter asked.
“Mmmhmm?”
“Why don’t you get on your knees and show daddy just how good you can be.”