If You Wanna Make an Omelet…
If You Wanna Make an Omelet...
Author: plainapple
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Shawn/Lassiter
Warning: Sex toys, Bossy Lassie, Frustrating times
Disclaimer: This is fan fiction, I make no claims to the copyright ownership of Psych or to its characters.
Summary: Shawn gets egged. In the vibrating, remote-controlled sense of the term.
Note: In response to psychkinkmeme prompt. I keep telling myself, "No, Plainapple! No more filling kink!", but so far it hasn't worked.
When Lassiter had come to Shawn that morning, eyes dark and voice low, muttering proclamations in Shawn’s ear, Shawn hadn’t put up much of a fight. It wasn’t the first time Lassie had tried to pay Shawn back for all the public groping, caressing, and occasional grinding Shawn’s ‘visions’ allowed him to get away with, and Shawn had learned from experience that Lassiter’s punishments were usually just as enjoyable as his rewards.
The way Shawn had imagined it, it had been pretty simple. Wearing the egg would make the boring day of errands and private cases he had planned a little more interesting. Despite what Lassiter had claimed Shawn doubted that the remote had more than a hundred feet of range, it wasn't likely Lassie'd be able to set it off from the station. Even if he managed, how bad could it be? Lassiter had tested it after he'd pushed it into Shawn that morning. The vibrations were low, arousing - but not unbearably so. Shawn could endure.
That night at Don Polo's (Shawn had been dying to go ever since he learned Wednesday’s were two-for-one mango-pineapple margarita nights), while Lassie toyed with the remote over dinner, Shawn would toy with him; licking the salty rim of his Margareta glass, nibbling coyly on the corner of a nacho and devising some kind of erotic way to eat a quesadilla while he stared into Lassiter’s eyes. By the time the bill came Lassie would be as worked up as Shawn was and they’d both rush home to tear each other’s clothes, frantic with lust and want.
Funny how things never worked out quite the way Shawn planned.
Lassie'd dropped Shawn off at the Psych offices, a little too early in the morning for Shawn's taste, but a few extra minutes with Lassiter usually beat out an extra hour of sleep. While they sat in the idling car Lassiter'd gone over the rules one last time. Shawn was to keep the egg inside him as long as he could bear to - he could take it out whenever he wanted but he had to call Lassiter as soon as he did, telling him he'd had enough (which in Shawn's mind was so akin to admitting defeat that he thought he'd rather come in his jeans than give Lassie the satisfaction). Shawn wasn't allowed to touch himself below the waist except to use the bathroom, nor was he to rub against anything to give himself relief, but he could play with his nipples or suck on his own fingers as much as he wanted to. That one had made Shawn laugh, Lassie didn't seriously think Shawn sat around all day with his fingers in his mouth, did he? Lassiter had only smiled at him and continued his recitation. Shawn was not to come to the station; if he did the game would be over. Similarly, if either of them got a case that required serious attention they'd call it off. Finally, no matter what, Shawn was not allowed to tell anyone what was happening to him - a superfluous rule, but Shawn agreed to it anyway.
Lassiter had made Shawn repeat the terms of their agreement to make sure he'd understood them, then given Shawn a gentle, coffee flavored kiss, whispered promises of rewards if he made it through the day, and sent him on his way. Shawn had watched the car drive away, shifting a little as the egg rubbed pleasantly against his prostate, before taking off down the boardwalk on his morning jog.
He hardly noticed it on his run, or while he dropped off a packet of photos of Mr. Hendricks and his nubile secretary to his grateful soon-to-be ex-wife, or when he grabbed a quick greasy lunch at a beachfront burger stand. He shared his fries with a seagull while they both watched the tanned sunbathers shorten their life expectancy with each layer of oil they applied. By the time he was browsing the snack aisle at the shop-n-go he’d almost forgotten it was there. The sudden pulse reminded him. He jumped and dropped the bag of chips in his hand on the floor, startling the woman next to him.
“Sorry.” Shawn mumbled as he bent over to retrieve them.
Pulse. God. The thing hadn’t pulsed that morning, and what it had done wasn’t half as strong as this. It felt a little like he was being tapped from the inside. Like Lassiter was tapping him, he was the one with the remote, after all. The thought, along with the sensation, made Shawn shudder in pleasure. He craned his neck, looking over the shelf and around the store but couldn’t see Lassie anywhere. He guessed he’d had been telling the truth when he said it had the range of a high powered walkie-talkie. He pictured Lassie at his desk in the station, flipping the remote’s switch, imagining what it would do to Shawn when he did. Uhm. Lassie. Shawn needed to get somewhere private, fast.
He quickly gathered the last few things on his list (dip, beer, pineapple), then put the beer back so he’d be able to use the eight-or-less express check out. He didn’t fancy waiting in line behind the grey haired grandma with a fistful of coupons in his current state. If the check out girl noticed the way Shawn stammered through his usual flirty banter, or the way his hand shook when he handed her his $20 bill, she didn’t say anything. Shawn bolted for the door the moment he had his change in hand, only half hearing her call that he’d forgotten his receipt as he left.
On the way back to his office the pulse had upgraded, either on its own or through Lassiter’s ministrations, to a steady hum of a vibration. Shawn paced the floor a few times, but it did no good, there was no way he could focus on anything other than what was going on inside him. He sat at his desk and leaned over, laying his head down and, spreading his arms out in front of him. Lassiter was a maniacal genius, that’s all there was to it. He was half considering giving in and just getting himself off when the front door opened. Shawn’s head snapped up, “Lassie?” he called.
“No, it’s me.” Gus answered.
“Oh.”
“Try not to get too excited.”
“I didn’t think you were coming in today.” said Shawn, somehow managing not to stutter.
“I wasn’t going to, but Chief Vick called me while I was on my rounds and said our check was ready.” Gus waved the envelope in his hand at Shawn, “I took it to the bank already, just came by to file the deposit slip.”
“Oh, uh, thanks buddy.”
“No problem. I was surprised she didn’t call you to get it, she said that Lassiter told her you were busy?”
“I went to the grocery store.” Shawn answered lamely.
“Great, so you spent the afternoon watching TV and snacking on whatever junk you picked up while I was stuck in Dr. Morrison’s waiting room for three hours.”
“Morrison?” Shawn squeaked.
“Yeah. The guy’s got this new practice, tons of patients already, but he’s a complete ass. I had an appointment and everything!”
"Uh huh."
"I mean, I'm a pretty patient guy - more than pretty patient, I put up with you, after all..."
"Mmm."
"But three hours, that's just, beyond inconsiderate, that's just rude."
"Guh, uhm, yeah."
Gus frowned, "Are you okay?"
"Ahhh!" Shawn jumped out of his seat at the vibrations kicked up again, coming so hard and fast against him that it was all he could feel. His pupils were so dialated that he could hardly focus, the whole room was tinted green. Shawn gripped the collar of his t-shirt with one hand, drawing a deep breath as his mouth fell open.
"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed, "What is it? You sick?"
"I... I... Ayeee..." Shawn stammered, "I'm haaa.... having a vison!"
The concern dropped instantly out of Gus's face. "You're having a vision." he repeated flatly.
"Oh yeah! It's a... it's a big, big, really... ugh, good vision."
"Seriously? You couldn't even pretend to be interested in my day?" asked Gus.
"What, no Gus, that's not... I, oh god." Shawn pounded his fist on his desk, "I can see that, uhm, the spirits... telling me, not worth your time to, muh! To spend energy thinking about... some... jerk doctor!"
The vibrations stopped suddenly and Shawn collapsed back into his seat. He tipped his head back and let out a whimper, whether in despair or relief Shawn couldn't say.
"Okay." said Gus, "Yeah, you've got a point. But what's with 'the spirits'?"
"Just trying something new." Shawn answered, willing his breath to slow, "It takes a lot of practice to make what I do look natural."
"Well it was a little over the top. You looked like you were passing a kidney stone."
Shawn snorted, “No Gus, this is what I look like when I’m passing a kidney stone.” He made a face.
“You did not just blue steel me.” said Gus.
“What if I dii…diii…did?”
“Is your phone buzzing?” asked Gus?
Shawn turned instantly red. Sure, he could hear the damned thing echoing through his skull, but he hadn’t considered Gus would be able to.
“Closet! Closet! Vision of the closet!” Shawn sprung from his chair and ran into the small storage space in the back of the office. He slammed the door behind him. “Aaaaah!”
“Still over the top.” Gus called at him through the door.
In an act of desperation Shawn shoved two fingers in his mouth to muffle his own cries. He sucked, hard, only vaguely aware of the irony. He gripped his shirt in his other hand, tugging at the fabric. Leaning back against the closet door, he slid to the floor. With his legs out in front of him he thrust his hips helplessly into the air, the hint of friction he got from his jeans brushing his painfully restricted erection only making things worse.
Again, the vibration stopped, just as suddenly as before. Half a moment later his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled his wet fingers out of his mouth as he answered the call.
"I hate you so much." Shawn said into the phone. Lassiter only laughed in response.
"It's not funny!" Shawn protested, "I swear to god Lassie, I just about swallowed my own hand."
"Oh, so you tried that, did you?" Lassiter asked, the slight hitch in his breath betraying his attempts at callousness, "How many fingers? You suck on them? Use your tongue? Must've felt nice, I know how good that tongue can be. What else have you been doing to yourself Shawn? Touching your chest? Rubbing your nipples? Did you pinch them? Try a little pain to take the edge off?"
"Hate you." Shawn repeated.
"Is that anyway to talk after I get you such nice things? It was expensive, but I think the choices in settings make it worth it, don't you?"
"Go to hell."
"Here. Let me show you my favorite..."
Shawn yelped as the egg went off in strong, short bursts. They came fast, one after the other, barely allowing for a breath in between.
"Pay attention to that rhythm Shawn. That's how I'm going to take you when I get you home tonight."
Shawn groaned, low and long. The pulse stopped.
"Don't want you enjoying that too much now." Lassiter told him.
"Did I mention I hate you?"
"Talking like a petulant child will only get you punished like one, you know that." said Lassiter, "But considering the circumstances I'll let it slide. Now come out of that closet, we have a dinner to get to."
“How do you know…?” Shawn hung up the phone before he finished his sentence. He stood and opened the door, poking his head out, “Where is he?”
“Who?” asked Gus.
The front door opened and Lassiter strolled in, all easy nonchalance.
“That was pretty good Shawn.” said Gus.
“What was good?” asked Lassiter.
“Shawn’s trying a more casual approach to channeling.”
Lassiter rolled his eyes, “Great. So, we ready to go?”
Shawn blinked, “We?”
“I ran into Lassiter at the station,” Gus explained, “He invited me to dinner with you guys and Detective O’Hara.”
“Jules is coming.” said Shawn blankly.
“Actually, she’s already there,” said Lassiter, “So we should get a move on. Guster, do you want to ride with us? They overcharge for parking as it is, no reason to pay for two cars. I asked O’Hara, she said she’d drop you back here on her way home.”
“Wow, really?” said Gus, “Thanks Lassiter, that was really considerate of you.”
Lassiter shrugged, “I’m a considerate guy.”
Shawn laughed bitterly. Brilliant Lassie - with Gus in the car there’d be no chance Shawn could beg or seduce his way into a reprieve; he’d have to keep the egg in through dinner. Gus frowned at Shawn in confusion. Lassiter smiled and clapped his hands together, “Let’s go?”
Lassiter turned and walked towards the door, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket as he did. The egg pulsed. Shawn swore and followed after him. Gus frowned again and trailed behind.
The drive to the restaurant was blessedly vibration-free, Shawn didn’t think he’d have been able to keep it together if it wasn’t with Lassiter just a stick shift away, and he didn’t want to imagine the kind of trauma jumping Lassie in front of Gus would have visited on him. Lassiter tormented Shawn by asking him questions about his day, pressing for the most mundane details. How many people in line at the grocery store, how long did Shawn have to wait, what did the cashier look like, how did Shawn pay, how much change did he get back? All innocent, if odd, questions on the surface, but Shawn knew exactly what Lassiter was doing - he was triggering Shawn’s memories, knowing that visualizing the scene would call up the tactile responses Shawn had felt when he was there. Shawn supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Lassiter had figured out how Shawn worked after living with him for what, almost a year now, he was a detective after all, but a part of Shawn always seemed to forget he was such a good one.
They parked in Don Polo’s admittedly overpriced lot, although Shawn wasn’t buying Lassie’s cover story for bringing Gus in their car for a minute, and walked towards the entrance. Shawn sidled up to Lassiter and brushed the back of his hand against his. Lassiter took it absentmindedly and twined their fingers together, either not noticing or not caring that after a day of torment Shawn was sensitive enough that even Lassiter’s most casual touch almost sent him over the edge.
Lassiter dropped Shawn’s hand when they reached the front entrance and held the door open for him and Gus. Such a gentleman. Shawn’s lips twisted into a smile. It used to bother him, the way Lassiter sometimes treated him like a woman, but he’d come to accept it was just the way Lassie was. Old habits from a lifetime of dating girls were bound to be hard to shake, and anyway, if Lassie wasn’t familiar enough with Shawn’s anatomy by now to know he was a man, well, there was something seriously wrong with him. He snuck out a hand and swiped it across Lassiter’s chest as he passed him, grazing his fingers over his belt buckle. Lassiter arched an eyebrow at him. Shawn counted it as a victory until Lassie shoved his hand in his pocket again. The low thrum started in Shawn immediately.
It was the subtlest sensation Shawn had felt all day, barely noticeable at first. He managed to greet Juliet and follow the hostess to their table without so much as a twitch to give himself away. He’d expected to sit next to Lassiter, but Lassie took the chair by Juliet, kitty corner to Shawn. Clever. He was just out of Shawn’s reach and the solid metal support under the table kept Shawn from getting to him with a foot. The thrum continued. Sitting had amplified it a little, angling the egg so it hit right against just the wrong spot to encourage polite dinner conversation, but Shawn found with a little concentration he could ignore the feeling, at first anyway. Shawn had half expected Lassie to kick up the vibrations as the waitress brought water and took their drink orders, but his hands were folded neatly on the table. Shawn wondered if Lassie was going to keep it on low the whole meal and that’s when he realized what had started as a niggling little feeling had amplified to something like an itch. Shawn shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a long drink of water. Lassie wasn’t going to keep it on all night, was he? It would be too cruel. Blood pooled between his legs at the thought and he felt the half erection he’d lost on the drive over returning. Shawn tried to catch Lassiter’s eye, signal him that he didn’t think he could last through two courses like this, and god help him if Jules ordered a desert, but Lassie was pointedly ignoring him. His apparent indifference was infuriating and hot and Shawn bit at his lower lip.
“Shawn?” said Jules.
“What?” Shawn answered, a little too loudly, drawing the attention of some of the nearby tables.
“How did you know?” she asked. It didn’t make sense, not unless. Right. She was repeating something. Shawn had been so focused on Lassiter he hadn’t even noticed she’d been talking to him.
“I… sensed it?” Shawn answered.
Jules drew her head back in surprise, “You sensed they had two-for-one margaritas?”
Damn it. “Uh, yeah.”
“Wow, that’s…” Jules considered, “Really specific.”
Shawn shrugged, “Sometimes that’s how it works. I don’t control what I glean from the spirits, I’m just a sponge running along their greasy cosmic dishes.”
“Oh my god…” muttered Gus, making Juliet giggle. Lassiter remained unfazed, examining the menu intently.
Shawn stood, “Uh, excuse me, I need to go, um, piss.”
Shawn just about knocked over two waiters on his rush to get to the bathroom, but he didn’t have time to hesitate. He needed some kind of relief, even if it was just a moment or two away from the sight of Lassiter.
The restroom was empty when he walked in, he used the opportunity of being alone to groan aloud in frustration. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were so swollen it seemed impossible that anyone could look at him and not tell how aroused he was. On the plus side, his time rolling around on the closet floor hadn’t mussed his hair.
He ran a little water in the sink and splashed it on his face, trying to pull himself together. The door opened behind him and he stood, but kept his eyes closed, not sure what he hoped for more - that Lassiter had followed him, or that he hadn’t. He pushed back the moment he felt the familiar arms circling his waist, arching himself against Lassiter's chest. He opened his eyes and found Lassiter's in the reflection, blue, blazing with intensity.
"Please." Shawn muttered, "Please, please, please, please."
"Please what?"
"Please let me come."
Lassiter chuckled, "What, here? Not unless you want me to arrest you for public indecency afterwards."
"Lassie!"
"Hush." Lassiter whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of Shawn's ear. "So good Shawn, you're doing so good for me. You can take more, can't you?" He kissed the stubbled corner of Shawn's jaw, "Just a little more."
Shawn whimpered.
"Just a little more." Lassiter repeated, pushing Shawn's shirt up to run his hands over his stomach, "I need you to. Need you to know what it feels like every time you're there when I'm working, every time you touch me when you know I can't touch back. You think I’d put you through this if you hadn’t done worse to me first? My Shawn. So, so sweet. You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you. Or maybe you do. You do, don’t you, you little tease? You do know, but it doesn’t stop you, does it? How many times have you sat in my lap and ground on me in front of my boss for god’s sake, hmm? How many? You know you’ve earned this. You deserve this. Come on honey, tell me you can take it for me. Tell me." Lassiter traced the top edge of Shawn's jeans with his fingertips.
"Okay." Shawn gasped.
Lassiter nudged his hips forward, letting Shawn feel his arousal. "Good boy." Lassiter told him, "Good, good boy. Love you." His head dropped down and he bit at Shawn's neck. Shawn watched the little red marks form on his skin as Lassiter pulled away.
"I'm giving you a break while we eat," Lassiter told him, "I don't want you choking on your dinner."
Shawn nodded in agreement.
"But as soon as you're finished, you're mine again." Lassiter said as he stepped back. Shawn sighed unhappily at the loss.
"Always yours." Shawn muttered.
Lassiter's hands twitched and he gave a little start like he was going to pull Shawn into his arms and take him against the sink, public nudity laws be damned, but his feet didn't move.
"That's right you are." said Lassiter, "Mine." He turned to the door of the restroom, his hand on the doorknob, "When the bill comes, Shawn, I'm starting it up and it's not turning off until we're home."
Shawn gave an involuntary moan. He searched Lassiter's reflection for a sign of mercy, but all he found was a calculating smirk.
"I was thinking we'd take the scenic route." said Lassiter, and then he was gone.
Shawn leaned forward against the sink basin and let the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding out in a loud huff. He seriously considered sticking his head under the faucet and running cold water over it, hair be damned. Lassiter. Fuck. Shawn looked at himself in the mirror. If he lived to solve a million mysteries he'd never figure out how in the hell he got so lucky.
Part 2