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"My next shot won't be to his leg." The man wasn't threatening but he was serious. He was making an absolute declarative statement, and Juliette could tell that by the look in his eyes- and the fact that he had just shot Lassiter in the leg.
Which was what made it all the worse when she saw Shawn's figure come over the ridge behind the man. It wasn't a surprise to see him since he had been the one to call them here. Still, had Shawn not seen this coming? Shawn had never failed to demand that they come with the cavalry whether it was needed or not, if only for the pomp and drama of it all.
The question was if Shawn now sensed the seriousness of this situation? It seemed he did because he did not approach but instead started moving sideways instead to the now vacated house. Part of Juliette wished Shawn had called out with a stupid joke to make the man look away, and aim his gun away from where it was still trained on her partner. But a bigger part of her understood that he might well shoot Shawn too- especially if startled.
Hopefully inside Shawn would call for more help. Lassiter for his part made no acknowledgement if he had seen Shawn or not. He was bent near in half, stumbling, but wanting to stay standing even as he tried to get the weight off his wound. At least it wasn't bleeding like it had hit an artery.
"You don't want to do this, and we want no more trouble with you," carefully she tried to match his cadence and tone. Detective O'Hara tried to remember her negotiation training amidst the panic and fear of seeing her partner shot and a gun pointed right at them. In other circumstances she would have lowered her gun to make the suspect feel more at ease, but in this case, she didn't dare risk it. Still, she tried to negotiate and talk him down, leaning on consequences that would come if he dare murder a cop (or two).
"Damn it," Lassiter snarled under his breath, and not from the pain. Shawn was reemerging from the house, and from this distance Juliette didn't dare move her eyes to look at his directly lest their gunman follow her gaze. Easier for Lassiter to conceal his actions, bent in pain as he was. She could still tell from the corner of her eye what was going on generally. Shawn walking towards their suspect, bold as brass, his hands by his side, but then when the angle must have been right for them not to be in any crossfire, Shawn- Shawn was raising a gun, a little grey glock with two hands. Clearly much too small to be any kind of rifle. A short-range thing and Shawn seemed an impossible 40 feet away.
"That by talking we may grow closer," Juliette emphasized as strongly as she dared to hint to Shawn. She could hope the least sensible man she knew would do something sensible. It was hard to make out anything about Shawn's expression from this distance, or maybe it was that Shawn wore an expression she'd never seen on his face before- serious resolution. Regardless Shawn paid her no mind.
Shawn clicked his tongue, a noise far too quiet for her to hear, and the criminal turned his head. A millisecond after he started to move, Shawn had already shot- perhaps he had pulled the trigger before he made a noise; it all happened so close together. And despite the impossibility of a shot from that distance, Shawn had done it. And not to center mass- a head shot.
"Oh my God," Lassiter said with reverence. That had been a hell of shot, and from Shawn of all people- and with such confidence. Shawn had known he was capable of such a shot, with only a handgun, from that distance. That- that was really something. Lassiter knew he was capable of such a shot. He loved his time in the range, with his guns. He had picked off porcelain figures across the full range one after another. But Shawn? Shawn Motherfucking Spencer? Lassiter felt lightheaded.
And then Shawn was coming to them, speaking directly to Lassiter without his usual playful frills or ribbing. "I called an ambulance, they're on their way. You're going to be alright."
Lassiter for once was at a loss of snark to snap back, still in disbelief. Maybe it was the blood loss or the shock. That thing he had said once pass through his mind those thankfully he didn't say it this time Nice shooting detective. "I want to talk to you when I get discharged," was what Lassiter told Shawn. Even now he could hear the sirens. Medical attention first, Lassiter had not lost all of his sensibilities.
Shawn nodded, was he really serious, or was this... a defense mechanism? Coping against what he just done. Shawn had... killed a man (for the first time!).
The medics came to the head detective. It was just a flesh wound. He would only need stitches. They offered him hard drugs, but he refused on principle and because the pain was not so bad. He knew a man that had gotten 32 stitches across his head without anesthesia, and Lassiter knew the other reason he refused was the question of his manly pride. He liked to think he was simply too good to get such battle scars before, but now there was a part of him that was ready and eager for one.
He took only paracetamol and once he was discharged he did that rare activity -unheard of when not case related- he texted Shawn. Normally he was one for calling but... Lassiter didn't want to hear any of Shawn's silliness from Shawn if he gone back 'to his normal'.
Which was how one Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, ended up showing up on his door step. Just from the bright eyed and bushy tailed look on his face Lassiter was already sick of him and whatever inane thing was going to come out of his mouth- Lassiter grabbed him, hauled him over the threshold, and slammed him against the door once inside.
"Feisty! I'm going to assume they didn't give you the fun floaty drugs," Shawn quipped, starting a little nervously but quickly finding his footing as he continued, "Did they say you could exercise? I think manhandling me counts, and we wouldn't want you... over exerting yourself."
Lassiter's pulse was pounding in his head as he bit out that it was only a flesh wound as the jokester unsurprisingly retorted with a Monty Python quip. But what Shawn had been saying... was so dangerously close to what Lassiter had been thinking and intending - did Shawn... know? Not psychically KnowTM, of course not, but know all the same? Or was he just winding up Lassiter all the same- as he always did, only now... Lassiter was wondering if Shawn was winding him up for 'this' reason, if that meant he always had been 'tugging' on his pigtails.
"That shot today- don't you dare fucking tell me it was a 'lucky' shot- you knew you could make it- you knew you'd 'succeed'. What?! How?" Shawn started to verbally squirm for all that he physically stayed in place surrounded by the Head Detective's tall form, but not pinned there.
Lassiter watched the jackass intently, always playing the fool when he was so talented. "Shut up. First 100 on the Detective exam, now this. If you doubted your skill, you'd have taken the center mass shot. But you didn't, because you knew."
"The- the detective exam?" It seemed another life ago he'd told him that- months, years ago surely. And this time Lassiter had remembered this with... bitterness? No, that wasn't the right word. Bitterness was not the emotion that had made Lassie call him here tonight, or remember that trivial fact about Shawn's 'capabilities'.
"You're so fucking," the Detective sneered the expletive as his lip curled over his teeth, but the next word came all the same, "Impressive."
Shawn was stunned silent to hear the Detective vocalize what Shawn had just deduced. Bolstered by anger, Lassiter continued to snarl and spit out compliments. "So fucking good, so fucking clever, and talented all the fucking time about everything- and this one thing, the one thing I've got, I can do-" again it should have been bitterness, it was certainly spat with the venom and rage for it. "And here you are- so fucking good at this too, such a fucking good shot. At that distance, with a hand gun -just after seeing my coworker get shot- I don't know if I could have done any better."
"But you could have made that shot," Shawn feebly pushed back as though Lassiter wasn't the most talented gun-hand he knew.
Lassiter had thought often on that careless slip of the tongue, as he had today, but now he intentionally pointedly repeated it, "Nice shooting, detective." Since Shawn was no psychic, what he did made it truly the keenest deductive work Lassiter had ever seen- and thus a great detective.
Shawn blabbered on about how actually the shot was non-impressive and no big deal. "I was very impressed," Lassiter emphasized as he closed the distance between them. And Shawn's eyes went wide as he registered than even at half mast Lassie's pistol was no small thing.
"Oh! That kind of impressed!" Shawn had known but he- he hadn't wanted to be wrong, hadn't wanted it just to be (foolish, naive) hope, just because he wanted it to be true. "Right well, since you're injured, probably best to get you off your feet. Bedroom? Couch?"
Lassiter did appreciate that it Shawn understood and accepted instantly. With a low grunt almost like a growl Lassiter frog-marched the pain in the ass psychic to his bedroom as he yammered on with what a nice place he had and how it was decorated 'like bachelor but more control freak than chic'. Despite his return to annoying rumor, Spencer did not resist where they were going or what they were going to do. In that way Shawn was perfectly capable of expressing himself. Instead, Shawn rather looked giddy.
"You and your fucking mouth," Lassiter finally interrupted the review of his interior decorating.
Shawn shot him the sly look he had been wanting. "Want to... shut me up, sir?" Lassiter felt his hands tighten where they still held onto Shawn. He just couldn't help it. And because Shawn actually was a brilliant detective and not the dipshit he pretended to be, he only continued, "Why don't I help you take off your pants so you can sit right there?" Shawn batted his eye lashes coquettishly but he didn't tease as he kneeled- knelt? I've heard it both ways- his hands made quick work of taking off his shoes, pants, then with only one look up for consent before his hands were pulling off that last layer.
Lassiter focused on shifting his weight carefully so that he could have it all removed given his injury- and the beautiful sight that Shawn made like that. So... compliant and willing to serve. It was electric the feeling of power over that man who always did whatever he wanted to Lassiter's endless frustrations. Shawn was doing this so naturally and effortlessly. How much did he want it, and how much was this nature? How many other people had gotten to see him like this?
Shawn clearly enjoyed the sight of his cock, mostly limp as it now was, and made a show of licking his lips as he stared it down. Shit, but Lassiter did want that mouth. As much as he wanted to use his on Shawn. Would be difficult given his injury, but damn,a reward well worth it given how impressive that shot was. Even thinking of it now got his cock to fatten up. Incredible. It would have been an impressive shot if the Head Detective had made it. But Shawn Spencer? Lassiter had never seen him hold a gun and- fuck that alone was a sight. How correctly he had held it, how perfect his form, and to make a shot from that far, with such confidence? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It took a moment for Lassiter to snap out of it, sit down on the bed, and start taking his shirt off. Shawn watched that too with eager eyes. Shawn had often 'jokingly' called him 'Sternum Bush', but now Lassiter didn't think it was much of a joke as the kneeling man said, "I love your body hair." It was not just his sternum, Lassiter was hairy all over, and Shawn, who was almost hairless, really did seem to appreciate that as he ran his hands up and down Lassiter's torso.
"Your hair's not bad either," Lassiter said as he place his hand on Shawn's head -for the moment gently-, half meaning it, and half because Shawn was so vain about it.
Shawn made a little noise of enjoyment, and winkingly said, "You'll be shocked to learn I like a little hair pulling." As shocking as the sun rising in the morning, Lassiter huffed, but made further comment as Shawn focused on the task before him.
Shawn carefully positioned his hands so he was no wear near the wound, only a handful of neat small stitches along its red line. He was happy to lick up the cock, which twitch in happy reply. Lassiter smelled of himself, with just a hint of general antiseptic. Shawn enjoyed a man's scent as long as it didn't cross the line to unclean, and he knew the Detective was a clean from everything, lest of all his impeccable place.
Lassiter's cock was slow to rise as Shawn went of it with his tongue and started tugging at the base with one hand. Slow to rise, but impressive. Damn, Shawn had been right, Lassie was packing some serious heat. Shawn had more experience with silicone for this length than real, but what experience he did have he did so enjoy. It was nothing crazy maybe almost twice Shawn's average size, probably seven or eight inches.
Lassiter was cut and so his foreskin was exposed, but damn it was a sight to see hard, curved up but too heavy to rest against his belly. Shawn was grateful for his photographic memory as he took it all in. Unsurprisingly Lassiter was not a vocal man as he silently moaned and bit back groans, but he was expressive with how his fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair.
Once they were warmed up, Shawn started to suckle at the tip feeling how it filled and stretched his mouth as he rubbed it against the inside of his cheek. Then he started to swallow as he pushed half of it into his mouth, working the other half with his hand. He got into a comfortable rhythm, looking up through his lashes at the detective. Lassiter had a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his blue eyes were dark with an intense stare. Shawn smiled with his eyes as he started to push that hard cock into his throat.
Lassiter cussed and his hips twitched but he did not choke Shawn as he started to deep throat him. Damn, it had been a while since Shawn had taken a cock this size, and he had to concentrate to make this good. Thankfully Lassie didn't need anything fancy, just to fuck his mouth. Something which Shawn was very willing to do as his knees pressed into the carpet. From his weight alone, he could tell he was going to ache and probably have bruises there. It was so nice, soreness to match the one developing in his jaw and throat- fuck!
Lassiter was starting to pull at his hair- and that felt nice even as it made Shawn instinctively want to bite down. He grazed Lassiter with his teeth on the next thrust and the man swore. Ha. Lassiter had only started to do that because he was getting close. Shawn could deduce it from the man's body language and the changing of his breathing, still the Detective did shortly say, "I'm- close."
As much as Shawn wanted to have Lassiter come in him, he uh, well didn't. It didn't taste great and he hated it in his throat. He pulled his mouth off from all but the tip as he worked the length with his fist. Lassiter didn't complain but his hips did twitch restlessly. Shawn bet if they were in a position so Lassiter was standing, he'd love to fuck his face and fuck his fist. Those slim hips of his surely had such force and strength.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna-" Shawn pulled off his mouth as he made the detective come, making sure the tall man was watching him, as he painted his face. He didn't like it in his mouth and less in his throat, but he totally didn't mind splattering his face with it. In the best, most enjoyable of ways, it made him feel like such a whore, but without choking him.
Lassiter was looking at him alright, his eyes locked on the sight as the psychic detective relished in getting that facial. Fuck, that hot fucking face, and that expression he was making, and how good that felt, shit, it was so fucking nice- and how good that mouth and hand had been. Lassiter panted as the high from his orgasm came over him. Shit so good, and yeah, damn, it had also been a while. Most partners struggled with his length but if anything Shawn had... enjoyed it. Lassiter tugged his hair again as he pulled him further away, oh yeah Shawn liked that too. What slutty behavior, Lassiter was unsurprised to discover. He had thought Shawn would be like this from how he acted, and how Lassiter fantasized he would be.
Lassiter let out a sigh as he pulled himself back by his arms and carefully sat himself more fully on the bed without using his thigh. It didn't hurt that much but the last thing he wanted to do was rip open his stitches.
Shawn took a moment, lifted off his shirt and wiped at his face. Lassiter enjoyed the sight; Shawn's cum covered face and him shirtless. Then Shawn crawled up after him, losing his pants as he went. "I'm going to blow you," Lassiter said.
Shawn was more than willing, but a little furrow did form between his brows. "Love the enthusiasm and equality Detective, but uh... logistically... how are you going to do that with your leg?"
Fuck, Shawn was right. Lassiter couldn't kneel, and he couldn't be on all four above him. He could... lie down and hoist only his upper body- yeah okay so he tried that. Shawn sat up against the headboard with Lassiter laying between his spread legs and lifting himself up only on his elbows. It wasn't a great angle but it would work. More easily with what Shawn was packing, Lassiter was pleased to see he was bigger, though it was perfectly reasonable, serviceable length. Which was good because Lassiter wanted it all with Shawn. As much as Lassiter wanted nothing more than to the bend the bratty psychic in half and punish him for his frustrating behavior until he was begging for it, he did enjoy the thought of riding him too.
Lassiter wrapped his hand around Shawn's cock and smacked his lips. He wanted this as much as Shawn had, he could feel his mouth pooling with saliva. He looked up at Shawn who was watching him intently. He had to tell him one more time, "That was such a shot- I still don't believe it."
Whatever Shawn was going to say was warped into a desperately little pant as Lassiter lowered his mouth. But Shawn's silence didn't last for long- that fucking pain. "Ha-ah, would- how would you feel if you knew," and Lassiter knew it was going to be a frustrating thing just from the curl of the man's lips, "That it was easy. I could make that shot any day. Again and again."
Lassiter let out a noise low in his throat that was sure to make his tongue vibrate where it was pressed against his cock- which made Shawn moan in turn. Lassiter wasn't surprised. Shawn after all had made the head shot rather aim for center mass. But still, fuck what a thing to hear. What precision, what talent, what skill. He savored the thought as he savored Shawn's cock as he took in more of it.
Shawn was expressive in how much he enjoyed Lassiter's tongue, letting out all these hot little noises that Lassiter enjoyed even as he struggled to be in a position to bop his head up and down. Although he knew himself able to take in all of Shawn's cock to the root, he had to focus on only half and the tip, using his hand for the rest of it. Soon this little flesh wound would heal, and he'd show Spencer all he could do.
God, what a good shot. So fucking hot. And so was Shawn with a gun. Shawn competent. A competent shot. A competent gun-hand. And now here, laying under him and making those pathetic needy noises.
For all of Lassiter's limited mobility, Shawn enjoyed his mouth well enough because soon it was his turn to tell him he was coming. Lassiter however didn't mind swallowing. He wasn't above spitting it out, but every now and then he wanted it. And his first time with Shawn? After Shawn had literally saved his skin, and made such a remarkable shot? Oh yeah, Lassiter made the effort to leverage himself on his elbow so he could swallow him down to the root and suck as the man came with a restrained jerk of his hips.
Shawn was panting, tired, pleased, and yet wily and trouble as ever. "We wanna fuck?"
Lassiter took a moment, still recovering and clearing his throat. "Generally, yes, I want to fuck you. But not right now, not tonight. I need to recover. I come once a day," Lassiter informed him.
"Oh, do you?" Shawn asked with a smirk, he looked very eager to test Lassiter and that 'fact'. The man was going to push him to his limits, Lassiter was sure, and he was sure he'd find himself young and sprite-like under Shawn's intense energy. "Okay, goodnight, rest up, and I'll wake you with another blow job."
Lassiter should have argued. Told Shawn that he wasn't allowed to stay over. It felt so fast- and yet they had known each other for years, and Lassiter wondered how long they've been dancing towards this. Lassiter didn't realize until today revealed Shawn's sex appeal, and yet he suspected that Shawn has wanted this for a long, long time.
Still, Lassiter was hardly some invalid that was just going to pass out and sleep right here and now. He got up and brushed his teeth. Shawn stole his toothbrush, which Lassiter pretended to be upset about. Considering where their mouths had just been, this was so much less intimate and actually no big deal. It made the kisses they shared later all the mintier and nicer. He loaned Shawn pajamas and was surprised how much he loved the look (and smell!) of Shawn in his clothes. They laid in bed together and made out a little. Nothing crazy, they weren't trying to go for more right now, just- lazily exploring and enjoying each other.
Sleep was easy and tomorrow was even better.