Prompt Post #1
Welcome to the Shassie Kink Meme, and our first prompt post! Please read the rules before participating!
[Rules]1. Your kink is not my kink and that's okay! Please be respectful of others. Don't kinkshame, hijack peoples' threads, or flame other people ( Read more... )
[Rules]1. Your kink is not my kink and that's okay! Please be respectful of others. Don't kinkshame, hijack peoples' threads, or flame other people ( Read more... )
“Oops!” Lassiter grumbled, his acting deplorable.
Seeming to work in slow motion, Lassiter pivoted, bent from the hips, and Shawn hissed around his knuckle at the sight of glorious, panty-encrusted Lassie-ass. Well, not that he could see the panties, but he could ‘see’ them. Especially with the afternoon light streaming in at that angle…
No! Shawn stilled his hand, half extended towards its goal. They were at work, and that meant no hanky-panky in public, they’d agreed (well, Lassiter had tied Shawn up with his department-issued handcuffs and spanked him, hard and wanting, until he’d agreed).
Shawn could only try to think of Hawaiian shirts, socks and sandals, , until Lassiter resumed the usual upright position.
Lassie cocked an eyebrow, a small smirk lingering in the corner of his mouth, and sauntered off towards records.
It was a very nice saunter. Shawn blinked and looked around once Lassiter turned the corner, the spell almost broken. Almost, because half his brain was wondering how it felt to have such a skimpy, naughty thing under one’s pants. Did the material cling, slide, caress? Did it stroke, tremble and cup? Surely, at any moment it could potentially just break.
The other half of his brain spotted Juliet, who was loitering in the walkway, eyebrows pinned to her hairline, staring at the spot Lassie had just vacated.
“Jules!” he hissed.
Juliet shrugged, and continued into Vick’s office.
~~
Shawn wandered into the bowels of the Santa Barbara precinct, distracted and horny. Gus was somewhere upstairs, having returned from his Pharmaceutical run, only to get waylaid by some octogenarian with a missing pooch. Pooch was with the neighbors, and Shawn had asserted this, but octogenarian had refused to listen, batting her bald eyelids at that nice young man Gus.
Lassiter’s voice drew Shawn from his musings, and immediately he perked up.
“Down boy,” he whispered, and flattened himself to a wall.
Buzz barreled past, a sheet of paper clutched in his hand. Noticing the paper’s heading, he reasoned Buzz must have forgotten to get Woody to sign off something. Shawn peered at his watch. And since Woody was on his 15 break, him and Lassiter had a good half hour to fill.
Shawn beamed as he opened the door to interrogation room two’s observation room. He loped inside, and Lassiter gulped.
Stumbling backwards, Lassiter nearly upended a cup of something on the table. He spun around and stared at it, eager for a distraction.
A white, creamy substance stared back at Lassiter.
“What is it?” the detective asked.
Shawn inspected it over his shoulder. He sniffed delicately. “Buzz’s loaded potato soup?”
“Huh. Oh…” Lassiter moaned as Shawn crowded close against his back, rubbing his hips against his clothed behind. “Oh…”
Shawn’s arms adventured over Lassiters’ waist, trailing his hands over the dangerous ranges and undulating peaks. “You’ve been teasing me,” he murmured around an earlobe.
Lassiter shuddered, his neck flushed pink as Shawn unbuckled his belt. “You did it first,” he gasped. “Buzz…”
“Won’t be back for another 25 minutes.” He bit down on Lassie’s neck, sucking slightly. Lassiter leaned into him, moaning. Shawn pulled back with a placating swipe of his tongue over the abused area. “Calling out another man’s name during our hanky-panky? Honestly Lassie. Very bad.”
“Bad?” asked Lassiter, his trousers unzipped and left to pool around his knees.
“Bad,” confirmed Shawn, kneeling down to nuzzle at Lassiter’s wanton lingerie. He tugged the trousers further down and cupped those glorious cheeks. At this, Lassiter broke out with a high-pitched giggle.
The detective coughed, recovering with a growl. “Spencer.”
“That’s better.” Shawn spun Lassiter around, until his barely-concealed crotch tickled his nose.
“Oh for Christ’s sake. I - hmmmf.”
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Lassiter dragged his hands through Shawn’s gelled hair, fingers grasping and trembling. “Here? No… Shawn, Shawn!”
Shawn pulled back to breathe cool air over the now-damp fabric. Lassiter shuddered. Two hands ran up Lassiter’s bare thighs to pull the top of his panties down. Just enough, to allow his cock room to stretch into the outside air. A hot tongue laved at his frenulum. Lassiter gripped the table behind him, and Shawn nuzzled, licked, nipped and sucked, refusing to let the panties fall any more south.
Shawn’s belt jingled as he unbuckled it, slipping a hand in to relieve himself, still kneeling by Lassie’s feet. “Here Lassie,” he confirmed, landing a sucking kiss to his lover’s mushroom head.
Lassiter let out a strangled moan, grinding himself onto Shawn’s face. He loosened one hand from Shawn’s hair, and made to tug down the panties so he could come. Shawn stilled him.
“No, like this, Carlton.”
At this, Lassiter tensed, his whole body focused onto one, overwhelming pleasure. He came with a shout, splattering Shawn’s face, over his cheeks, his nose, and dribbling down his panties, soaking them irreparably.
Shawn moaned desperately, hand working faster in his jeans. Lassiter slumped against the table, dragging one barely-functioning hand over Shawn’s cum-spattered lips.
Shawn shouted, but not from orgasm. From its precarious position atop the table, Buzz’s soup spilled over Shawn, staining his shirt irreparably.
~
(aka. Psych-out)
“And that was what happened.”
“…Soup. That. Is soup.” Gus seemed scandalized, but whether at the situation or the notion of spilled food, Shawn wasn’t sure.
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous Shawn. Maybe Lassie fucked you so hard you lost some wiring.”
Both Shawn and Gus gasped. “Juliet!”
“Come on, we all know he’s hung like a three hole punch.”
*shrieking laughter*
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