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"No, Shawn," Henry said in an urgent whisper, shaking his head quickly. Shawn pouted the best he could, looking at his father with the most 'please, for me' expression that he could muster. To the side, Juliet and the two uniforms who'd come with her were putting Drimmer in to an ambulance. The apartment was still taped off and would be, until Internal Affairs could go over the crime scene, again and deem that the shooting that had taken place had been justified. Shawn, would of course, testify that it was- but right now he had a more pressing matter to deal with.
"But dad," Shawn whined, his voice cracking just a little. If anyone asked, it was because of being hit so much. He was allowed to be a little whiny, what with everything that had happened tonight. But before he could even begin to bring up an argument for it, Henry was speaking again.
"Shawn, no, I told you I couldn't take it anymore," Henry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Shawn frowned a little.
"But his apartment is a crime scene," Shawn protested, pointing to the yellow tape that was currently blocking off Lassiter's door. Henry looked completely unsympathetic to Lassiter's plight. Though Shawn supposed he couldn't really blame Henry.
"I'm sure he can afford a hotel room for a few days," Henry told him, "Or you could let him crash in your office. Or your place." Shawn frowned and narrowed his eyes at Henry.
"Glare all you want, kid, I'm not changing my mind." Henry turned to his truck and walked away. Juliet was standing nearby with Gus and Lassie. Gus was heading towards the Echo, offering Juliet a ride, and he paused, waiting for Shawn to come along too.
"Shawn, you need to go to a hospital, you might have a concussion," Gus called to him and Shawn rolled his eyes, and put a hand up to where his cheek was purpling with a bruise. It still really hurt. Seeing him do this, Gus huffed, "And maybe a broken cheekbone."
"I didn't get hit that hard," Shawn waved off his concern.
"Fine, Shawn, but if you pass out and no one is there to rescue you, don't call me," Gus said, opening the door for Juliet.
"I couldn't call you if I was passed out," Shawn pointed out, "Besides, it'd be much more useful were I to call nine-one-one, since they've probably dealt with more concussions." Gus frowned at him from over the hood of the car.
"Besides, I won't be alone," Shawn said, causing Gus to raise his brows at him. "I'm taking Lassie home with me. He can go get Timmy if something bad happens." Lassiter, who had been watching the now empty street where the ambulance had gone down, turned to face Shawn.
"Excuse me?" Lassiter asked.
"Dude, your place is a crime scene," Shawn said, waving his hand towards the door, "And Gus will feel better if I had someone to watch me."
"Spencer..."
"Carlton, I think that's a good idea," Juliet smiled at him widely. Lassiter pressed his lips in to a tight line and looked at Shawn again.
"I was sort of kidnapped, so we'll need to take your car," Shawn said cheerfully. He looked around, "Where's your car?"
"Have Guster take you home, Spencer," Lassiter said, clearly annoyed.
"Lassie, don't be the box of cereal with no prize in it," Shawn chastised him. He ducked his head a moment and put his palm to his cheek again. He winced and looked up, just in time to see Lassiter looking somewhat sympathetic, his face twisted just slightly.
"Shawn did figure out what was going on," Juliet said, "You could at least drive him home." Shawn turned to Juliet and smiled.
"Thank you, Jules," Shawn said, then turned back to Lassiter. "It's only polite, Lassie." He affected a reproving expression and made the 'shame on you' gesture with his index fingers. Lassiter was near scowling at him.
"Fine," Lassiter said and he headed over to where he'd parked his car on the street, across from where the Echo was parked. Shawn followed him, not having realized the car there was Lassiter's. Of course, the Crown Vic was police issued, but he'd never considered the fact that Lassiter would have his own car. Shawn stumbled a little on the way over.
"I'll see you at work tomorrow, buddy!" Shawn called to Gus and then he got in to the car, immediately adjusting the seat, and changing the radio station. Lassiter slapped his hand away and turned it back. The music was something classical, slow and boring, and broken by the dispatcher's voice from the police radio mounted on Lassiter's dashboard.
The ride to Shawn's apartment was uneventful and Shawn hid a smile. Lassiter looked positively floored.
"Spencer," Lassiter spoke slowly, like perhaps he really thought the hit had messed up Shawn's head, "This is a dry cleaners." Shawn grinned at him and nodded.
"It's my apartment," Shawn said with a smile. He put his hand on the door handle and went to step out. Shawn paused though and turned back to Lassiter. "Come on, Lassie, I'll even let you have the bed." Lassiter frowned more at him, though Shawn was used to that.
"It's just for one night, we can make sure I don't have a concussion, and you can sleep some place that has a mostly clean bed, and definitely clean sheets." Shawn stepped out of the car then, and closed the door behind him. It didn't really matter if Lassiter came in or not, he'd made the offer, all he could do was accommodate Lassiter if he took it.
If he didn't, Shawn couldn't really do anything about that. He opened the door and paused when he heard another door shut. He turned and saw Lassiter getting his black overnight bags out of the trunk. Shawn smiled brightly and held the door open for Lassiter.
"Just put those anywhere." Shawn waved to the overnight bags and headed in to the bathroom. Shawn didn't really want to sleep on his couch, it was small, but he grabbed fresh sheets and a blanket from the storage closet and started to make up the couch to sleep in.
"Bedroom is back there, bathroom is there. It's been a long day, so I'm just going to call it a night," Shawn told Lassiter. He watched the dark haired man disappear in to the bathroom, and then he went about getting ready for bed. It was a relatively simple process. He toed off his shoes and shucked his jeans, and then sprawled out on the couch.
Through half-closed eyes, he watched the bathroom door. He was somehow unsurprised to see Lassiter come out in a plaid pajama set. The pants were loose and the top was button down, and it was green and white and it made Shawn grin. He didn't say anything though as he heard Lassiter crawl into the bed.
"Good night, Lassie!" Shawn told him, once he heard him stop shifting around, and he twisted on the couch to turn the overhead lights off, the dim light of an aged Thundercats nightlight glowed from over in the bedroom. If Lassiter noticed, he didn't say anything, and Shawn tried to get comfortable on the couch. He closed his eyes and drifted.
And he woke up not more than an hour later, covered in sweat and panting like he'd run a marathon. His head was throbbing to the point where it was making him feel nauseous. He had twisted in the night and was laying on his bruised cheek. And there was also the very vivid remnants of a nightmare running through his head... of him not being able to wrest the gun from Drimmer.
Of Lassiter not showing up at all. Or of Lassiter showing up and Drimmer going through with his horrible, twisted plan. He strained in the darkness, listening for the sound of Lassiter's breathing. He was snoring softly, but it was almost a relief, considering he couldn't be sure which part had been the dream. But he was alive, so. He pushed himself off the couch and headed in to the bathroom.
In there, he took a couple of headache pills, and made a makeshift cold compress to press against the bruise he had. He leaned against the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes and saw Drimmer with the gun on him and he wondered if sleep was going to come at all. He dried his face off and stepped out of the bathroom, and wavered in the door for a moment.
The thing was, Shawn was sure he could sleep if he felt safe. And despite everything that had gone down between him and the older detective over the last few years, Shawn knew that he took his oath to serve and protect very seriously and wouldn't let anything happen to Shawn. He took a step towards the couch. His resolve crumbled though and he turned towards the bed.
Shawn's bed was large, king size, with a lot of room. The sheets were soft, freshly washed almost, and Lassiter's sleeping form was languid and relaxed. The lines melted off his face in sleep and he looked- peaceful. Innocent would be a good word but he knew too much about Lassiter to associate it with him. Shawn was sure this was a great plan.
He lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped under them, curling on his side, and being careful not to jar Lassiter, lest he wake the detective up. He wasn't looking for anything, really, he just didn't want to be alone.
Carlton hadn't been sure he'd be able to fall asleep. He didn't really like sleeping in new places, it was part of the reason he'd been wide awake on Henry's couch when the text message from Spencer- Drimmer- Spencer's phone- had come in. He'd been staring blankly at the darkened television screen, and his mind had been racing, and he knew even if he'd closed his eyes, it wouldn't matter. Still, as he listened to Spencer's breathing from the small amount of space between them, he'd been lulled.
He was generally a light sleeper, however, but the fact that the younger man's apartment was in a mostly defunct business district, there were no loud neighbors, not a lot of through traffic, and Spencer wasn't very loud in his sleep (which was surprising, considering how loud he was the rest of the time). Carlton had been sleeping comfortably, not dreaming, just asleep. That was, until the shifting of the bed caused him to start awake.
Spencer crawling in to bed with him was certainly unexpected. Carlton listened, but his breathing wasn't sleep breathing. It was even, but not deep enough to be asleep. It was almost worrying, and he wondered what Spencer's plan was right now. What he wanted. What he was doing.
Carlton was a light sleeper, but he was still half-asleep, since what had woke him up wasn't an emergency, he didn't go on full alert. His mind was a little fuzzy, sleepy and confused, and he shifted a little, moving fractionally towards Spencer. He waited for a moment, but Spencer still wasn't sleeping.
"S'everything okay?" Carlton asked, suddenly. His voice was rough, slightly slurred, and he realized he sounded a little- concerned. More so than he usually showed when Spencer was involved, but he couldn't help it. Spencer, after all, had saved his life in a way. The fake-psychic had believed in his innocence and worked hard for him, despite the fact that he hadn't offered to pay him and hadn't really been much of an asset, while his life felt as though it was going to spiral out of control. While it wasn't the way he usually acted with Spencer, he felt that maybe he owed him some kindness. It might have just been the sleepiness speaking, however.
Spencer made a startled noise when Carlton addressed him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that he could see the way he curled up, almost in a fetal position. He was facing Carlton, his bruise vivid in the faint glow from the nightlight. Carlton waited for him to reply and it took a few moments, leaving Carlton wondering if he should get him to a hospital.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," Spencer said, his voice alert, no trace of sleep to it. Carlton frowned a little, but Spencer continued speaking with little prompting. "I had a nightmare and I thought I'd be... safer here." Spencer admitted. Carlton couldn't quite define the little thrill that raced down his spine. And he studiously ignored it too, nodding in agreement.
"Nightmare?" Carlton echoed, but he understood, and he reached out to pat at Spencer's hip consolingly. Mostly so he didn't launch in to one of his long, overwrought versions of things. Carlton wanted to get back to sleep, some time tonight.
"S'okay, you're right," Carlton assured him, "You're safe here." He patted Spencer's hip again. He could practically feel when Spencer relaxed, the release of tension causing him to shift in the bed a little. Carlton kept his hand against Spencer's hip, and made little shushing noises to calm him further.
"I keep thinking, what if no one came for me? Or what if I wasn't able to disarm him?" Spencer's voice broke the darkness again, "Or what would have happened if I hadn't divined that Drimmer was the killer..." Spencer trailed off, the frown obvious in his voice. Carlton tried desperately to cling to the remnants of the sleepy feeling as well as make Spencer calm down.
"What if he hadn't gotten me? And he'd just lured you there somehow and I wasn't there to save you..." Spencer sounded rather broken up about it all and Carlton wished he had something he could say in order to calm Spencer down. Or, at the very least, get him sleeping again. Spencer made a sound that was very close to a whine.
"And my head hurts." Spencer added. Carlton huffed a little, quiet and maybe a little annoyed.
"Did you take something?" Carlton asked and he felt Spencer move in the darkness in what he assumed was a nod. Carlton patted him again.
"Be quiet, Spencer. Close your eyes, go to sleep. It'll help your head," Carlton told him, speaking slowly again. He didn't say anything specifically about the nightmares, but he supposed if Spencer did have more, Carlton would be right there... and he'd do what he could to settle him from there. Spencer was quiet and he wiggled a little, causing Carlton to sigh, in annoyance, again.
"Good night, again, Lassie," Shawn said and he shifted more. Carlton watched as he rolled on to his other side, arm thrown out to clutch at the side of the bed, and he was laying in a manner that didn't put pressure on his bruised cheek. Carlton moved his hands back towards himself and closed his eyes again.
Carlton found himself awake, unable to get back to sleep until Spencer's breathing deepened, and he started to snore softly. The detective straightened the covers some, drawing the light comforter up higher, and tucking it around his neck. He watched Spencer in the low light, making sure that he was truly asleep.
He wasn't able to fall back asleep right away, himself, as when Spencer twitched, Carlton thought for sure he was going to fall in to helping him through a nightmare. But he soon concluded that the psychic was a restless sleeper, and that he was going to be like that for most of the night.
Carlton flipped the pillow over, laid his head on the cooler side, and closed his eyes once more. Spencer's soft breathing lulled him back to sleep.
Shawn woke up and he could tell it was excessively early, because the sun wasn't glowing brightly through the slants in his blinds. Normally, he woke up somewhere in the vicinity of the afternoon. But he thought maybe his air conditioning was broken because he was far too hot for the light sheet that he had covered up with.
It wasn't until he felt the impression of fingers against his hip that he realized why he was so hot. He blinked awake, and was suddenly aware of other things. The press of a body all along his back. Someone's knees pressing in to the backs of his- spooning and he was the little spoon, which was new and novel because usually he wasn't. It took several more moments before "body" resolved in to "Lassie".
Shawn remembered what had happened the night before, of course. But he hadn't expected this... closeness. He was building up his resolve to try and squirm away, when he suddenly realized something else. Something that had his eyebrows raising and his lips parting a little in quiet surprise. Lassiter's fingers were curled against his hipbone. Calloused fingertips against the smooth skin there and Shawn realized that Lassiter's fingers had slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He also realized that Lassiter was aroused. And pressing against him. Shawn cut off a frustrated groan, and wondered how best to delicately get out of his situation. Shawn, of course, had already come to terms with his attraction to the older detective. It was nothing he ever intended on acting on. He was something of a habitual flirt, but he usually only flirted with people he genuinely could see himself getting with. So while a lot of that list was attractive and female, there was also Lassiter.
Shawn also wasn't so self-assured that he thought Lassiter's arousal had anything to do with him. First of all, he was asleep, and he'd been keeping tabs. Lassiter hadn't been dating, it'd probably been a while since he'd had sex. He'd likely just had a pleasant dream, maybe about his estranged wife, or some girl down at the station he was interested in.
The difficulty lied in getting out of Lassiter's arms without waking him. He'd woken just when Shawn had crawled in to the bed the night prior, and he hadn't even touched Lassiter then. Getting out of his arms was going to be more difficult. Shawn was fully awake now, and he was even breathing carefully, his mind racing as he tried to think of how to get out of this situation.
Lassiter mumbled in his sleep, gibberish, and tightened his grip on Shawn. Pulled him back further against him, and wrapping his other arm up around Shawn's chest. Lassiter's elbow crooked over his shoulder, and his long fingers splayed along his ribs. Shawn bit his lower lip.
Briefly, Shawn had to quirk a smile. He never would have pegged Lassiter as a cuddler, but all signs seemed to point to that he was. All in all, despite the freaking out Shawn was currently doing, he had to admit that it was nice. Lassiter kept himself in good shape, and despite his lanky frame, he was powerful. The grip he held Shawn in was certainly comforting. Shawn closed his eyes.
He figured if he could detach himself from the fact that it was Lassiter then he could get back to sleep. But the tighter hold was doing nothing for the initial reason why Shawn had woken up, which was that he was too warm. The air conditioning wasn't on that high, and Lassiter had pulled the comforter up around Shawn when he'd started to cuddle with him.
Moving would wake Lassiter up and as amusing as it'd be to tease him about his koala bear sleeping habits, he wasn't so sure he wanted to be that close to him when he woke up and panicked. Not from the cuddling, that was just some innocent sleep time habits manifesting, but from the obvious erection pressed against Shawn's backside.
Shawn suddenly wondered if he'd ever held his wife like this. He probably had and Shawn had no idea the sort of problems they'd had with their marriage. Despite the fact that Shawn was bad at relationships, going on second dates, and actually being with people, he thought that something like this would be nice. Part of the reason he liked sleeping around was because he liked sleeping in the same bed with people. It was comforting. Though it wasn't exactly the same, in some ways it reminded him of when Gus would come and spend the night. That had been more fake fort making and telling ghost stories than romantic liaisons, however, and had come to a halt once they'd gotten to junior high.
Shawn moved his arm in slow motion. If he could get the blanket off, he'd probably be alright. And while he waited for Lassiter to wake up, he could think of interesting jokes to make about the cuddling, and if he was far enough across the room, maybe the whole hard-on thing. Though come to think of it, Lassiter had a gun, so maybe not. Lassiter made another sound in his sleep, while Shawn slowly drew the blankets down.
Lassiter had ducked his head, and the crown of his head was pressing to the back of Shawn's, breath warm and damp over his neck. Shawn shivered a little, and he had to wonder if Lassiter was awake. And purposefully leading him on. Lassiter was a detective after all, he probably could have deduced that Shawn was interested in him. He hadn't been exactly subtle.
Lassiter hadn't even acted surprised at Drimmer's suicide note plans, to frame them as former lovers. Shawn wasn't really quite sure what to make of that. But maybe it was... something. He had no idea. Shawn finally managed to get the comforter down, so that he wasn't baking. His socks were bothering him now too, but he forced himself to stay still.
Shawn's head was still throbbing, but he was sure Lassiter was an early riser (no pun intended), and he'd just have to wait it out.
Carlton awoke with the sun getting in to his eyes; he made a grumbly noise of displeasure and ducked his head down, further against something, warm and smelling faintly of pineapple and citrus. It took a moment for him to pick up on the fact that it was another person, and while that was surprising, it definitely wasn't unpleasant. He tightened his grip some and sighed quietly.
He was warm and comfortable, and that was something of an oddity as of late, especially considering how often he was in bed alone. He wasn't good with dating and he hadn't really looked hard for someone after Lucinda had left, having been preoccupied with saving his marriage. When it ended, he had been surprised and it hit him hard.
But this wasn't difficult at all. He was in bed with Spencer. Spencer had climbed in to bed with him last night and now here he was in the morning. Not sleeping and letting Carlton hug him. He didn't think about it overmuch, because this didn't seem like a time for thinking. He parted his lips slightly and breathed in deeper. Spencer smelled nice, he pressed closer, and nuzzled at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. He heard Shawn's breathing shift. He kept nuzzling against him, smelling some sort of fruit scent in his hair, mingling with the spicier notes of the cologne he was wearing and had dabbed behind his ear. The scent got stronger, as Carlton's nose nuzzled against Spencer there.
He felt Spencer shiver and Carlton hugged him tighter, and pressed a soft kiss to the skin he could reach, right on the line of his stubbled jaw. Spencer shivered again.
"Lassie?" Spencer's voice was quiet, but Carlton heard him.
"Hm?" Carlton responded. It wasn't his most intelligent, but there were more interesting things to explore here, after all- Spencer smelled a bit like lemon here, and Carlton had the incongruous thought that Spencer smelled something like a tropical fruit basket.
"Are you awake?" Spencer sounded almost tentative. Carlton made a vaguely acknowledging noise, and continued to nuzzle at the space behind the psychic's ear. Spencer wasn't trying to get away, which was gratifying and pleasant, and it made Carlton cuddle closer to him.
"You know I'm not your wife?" Spencer inquired and Carlton huffed against his skin. Of course he knew that. One, Victoria had almost always smelled of vanilla, and two, she certainly didn't sound like a man. He pressed his mouth against where Shawn's pulse was the most tangible beneath his skin.
"Of course," Carlton mumbled at him. Spencer seemed to relax some at that, but he wasn't moving. Carlton stroked his fingers over Shawn's hipbone and rubbed there against the soft skin. "Don't be ridiculous." Carlton added, for good measure. His voice was slow and sleepy, and he couldn't really convince himself to open his eyes more than half way.
Carlton trailed his mouth back up, back on Spencer's jaw, and then against his ear. "I know you like me," Carlton told him in low, earnest tones. "And I know you're not shy." Carlton laughed warm and rough against his ear, ducked his head and pressed his mouth against Spencer's shoulder. More lemon scent. He was very clean smelling.
"How do you know that?" Spencer asked. He didn't sound repulsed and he wasn't denying it. Carlton laughed again and he moved the hand that curled at Spencer's ribs and shifted, dragging it up under the hem of the yellow polo that Spencer was wearing. His skin was soft everywhere, even the trail of hair on his abdomen, and his chest hair was soft, like it'd been conditioned.
"I didn't get to be head detective by not noticing things," Carlton told him and then fell silent, too busy thinking about the feel of Shawn's body beneath his fingertips. His mouth was back against Spencer's pulse and he could feel the beat of it quickening, the shallowing of his breathing. Carlton licked his lips, and his tongue swiped against Spencer's skin. He didn't miss the little sound Spencer made.
"Lassie..." Spencer still sounded a little tentative, but not resistant. Carlton made shushing sounds and closed his eyes again. This was just nice.
"Relax, Spencer," Carlton told him softly. His hands trailed lightly over Spencer's nipples- though really, by this point, he should be calling him Shawn- and the fake psychic made a little sound and wiggled, which did very pleasant things to the arousal that was pressing firmly against Spencer's ass. He carded his fingers though Spencer's chest hair, while his other hand slipped deeper in to Shawn's boxers, he closed his hand around the younger man's erection.
He was largely unsurprised to find Spencer aroused. He was more surprised to find that he liked the way he felt in his hand, and he tracked uncoordinated, open-mouthed kisses along Spencer's throat. Spencer took in a quick breath and arched a little, hips pressing forward, and head tilting back.
Carlton applied teeth, nipping softly at the exposed skin and Spencer made rather thrilling and encouraging noises. He wasn't as loud here, either, as Carlton had thought he'd be. (He'd never admit it aloud that he'd previously had the occasional fantasy about this.) Spencer was not quiet, but his volume was low, and he was painfully earnest about it. Like he wasn't touched that much. Carlton doubted that was the case.
But Carlton listened to the way Spencer's breathing got heavy and ragged, the way his hips thrust forward in to Carlton's hands, and the way that it felt when Spencer pressed back and dragged along Carlton's erection. The drag of fabric was not as pleasant as being against skin would be, but it still felt phenomenal. Carlton's own breathing was rough and damp against Spencer's neck.
Carlton stroked Spencer with an easy, practiced rhythm- the one he used on himself- dragging his thumb over his slit, and rubbing at the vein on the underside. Spencer shuddered against him, gasping a little, trying to be encouraging. Spencer finally moved, it was to put his hand on Carlton's wrist.
"Just... a second..." Spencer whispered. He shifted, shimmied out of his boxers, and grabbed some lotion from a drawer in the nightstand. He threw the lotion on the bed, and then started to unbutton Carlton's pajama top. Carlton wasn't helpful, grabbing the lotion from the bed.
"Later," Carlton said, he batted Spencer's hands away from his shirt buttons. It was half-unbuttoned now, and Spencer peeled his own shirt off, while Carlton pulled Spencer back down to him. Though he had to admit, Spencer being naked was much better than him not being naked. Even though he kept his socks on. Carlton went back to spooning Spencer and applied the lotion to his hand, and resumed his stroking.
It was easier this way, slicker, and the drag of his hand much less. If the way Spencer arched then, and the noise he made was any indication, then he thought it was better too. Carlton tracked kissed along Spencer's shoulder and neck, and didn't falter in his rhythm.
Spencer's noises got increasingly louder, and pitched differently, until they were sort of high and urgent, and he was bucking almost uncontrollably against the slide of Carlton's hands, and the feel of him writhing against him was just enough friction to feel incredible and infuriating with not being enough.
Carlton didn't stop though, it felt too good. While he stroked Spencer with a steady rhythm, even though Spencer wasn't matching it, Carlton rocked his hips against Spencer, murmuring encouragingly. Spencer suddenly let out a rather sudden cry, and he tensed, hips jerking, as he came in to Carlton's hands.
Spencer went boneless after a moment and Carlton was still feeling alarmingly needy, pupils blown and skin flushed. Spencer's cheeks were red too. After a moment, Spencer moved, he was languid then, and Carlton could see the bruise on his cheek highlighted with the color of his skin right now. Spencer was hovering over him, gently easing him on to his back.
"Your turn," Spencer said. His smile was entirely promising.
Lassie giving him a handjob had been entirely unexpected; which wasn't to say that it was unwelcome. Because Shawn was thinking that it was pretty damned awesome. He felt almost feverish, his skin was slicked with sweat, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. After an orgasm like that, it was also tempting to go back to sleep. But Shawn was considerate, sometimes, and more so when people were doing nice things for him.
Plus the whole morning had been... interesting. He didn't hear Lassiter laugh often, or hear him speak in such a warm tone, or witness him being so affectionate. So while it was tempting to sleep, and he did feel drained (and that wasn't just a metaphor, the night before was still affecting him), Lassiter certainly deserved some reciprocation.
Initially, Shawn had considered repaying Lassie in kind, but the man had sounded half-asleep, and the likelihood of this happening again was probably pretty slim. He aimed for something bigger. He looked at Lassie, who looked much better like this, when he wasn't scowling... and those eyes of his were dark, pupils blown, and the flush against his pale complexion was rather fetching. Shawn thanked his lucky stars for his eidetic memory that he'd never forget anything about this.
He drew Lassiter's pajama bottoms and boxers in one motion, and he looked up to see Lassiter biting his lower lip, and those long, clever fingers of his clutching at the blankets. Shawn wrapped a hand around his dick, and Lassiter's eyes fluttered closed.
Shawn felt particularly gleeful about this, because now he wouldn't see and he'd be surprised. Shawn smirked a little and then stroked Lassiter slowly, he didn't bother with the lotion however, and after a few moments, he ducked his head down and sealed his lips around Lassiter's erection. He was peering up at him beneath the fringe of his lashes, and he watched as Lassiter's eyes flickered open, wide and surprised.
Shawn smirked more and thrilled in the low, throaty sound that Lassie made. Shawn shifted, braced one hand on Lassie's hip, and the other stayed closed around him, and he moved his mouth and his hand with a tandem effort, stroking what he couldn't get down. He swirled his tongue, licked at the slit, and sucked- alternating techniques to best fit the way Lassiter reacted to them.
Lassiter was louder than he expected, making encouraging noises and spilling forth praise and flattery like it was natural. It was endearing and more than a little hot.
He was careful with his teeth, but used them occasionally, just to feel the full body shiver and little, gasping moan that it elicited. Lassiter didn't move much, but his muscles flexed. He kept a white knuckled grip against the sheets, and his muscles strained against nothing. The flush had spread down his neck and chest, peeking out from underneath his dark chest hair, and across the bridge of his nose. It was surprisingly even and vivid.
It was one of the most attractive sights that Shawn could recall seeing. Lassiter smelled musky and masculine and it was incredibly arousing, in an emotional sense, since Shawn wasn't a teenager anymore and getting physically aroused would require more rest.
"Spencer," Lassiter's voice cut through his thoughts, and the tone was warning. Shawn didn't think poorly of his stamina, there'd been a lot of stimulation beforehand, and it wasn't that surprising that this wasn't going to last long. Still, he was surprised when Lassiter bucked up some, and came. Shawn swallowed quickly. And pulled off after a few moments, panting and exhilarated.
Lassiter was breathing heavy and Shawn crawled up and straddled his hips, laying over him like Lassiter was an extension of the bed. Lassiter huffed, but it was far closer to fond, than annoyed. This was further confirmed when Lassiter slipped his arms around him and held him close.
Shawn was a little surprised, again, when Lassiter kissed him, after what he'd just done. But it made his heart beat faster, and made him think that this could be... something. Not sure what, but perhaps something more than this.
"I get dibs on the shower first," Shawn told Lassiter sleepily and the detective laughed quietly, squeezing him gently.
"Just use it together, it saves water," Lassiter replied, rubbing a palm up and down Shawn's back. He settled with the gentle pet, and pillowed his head against Lassiter's shoulder. He yawned, and buried his face against his neck. Lassiter's hand came to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers curled in to the hair there.
"Okay, Lassie..." Shawn said, trailing off, feeling sleep tugging at him once again. Lassiter squeezed the back of his neck gently, reassuring.
"Shut up, Spencer," Lassiter said, fond still.
"Should call me Shawn."
"Fine. Shut up, Shawn. Go to sleep." Shawn chuckled, but couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and he meant to move off of Lassiter.
Lassiter wasn't moving him though. He was right, it was definitely safer here with Lassiter. With that thought in mind, he fell asleep once again.