Title: Occupational Hazards (I)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Please note the rating and the summary. [Dub-con warning just to be safe!] Thanks to my Psych cabal: pookaseraph, badluck97 and kerfluffle who is my hero for finding the exact right title for this.
Summary: An undercover assignment for Shawn and Lassiter takes a turn for the worst; they're forced to salvage it by any means necessary. Heavy on the porn and the angst. First fic in a series but it stands alone quite well.
It was all going according to plan even though Shawn's palms were slick with sweat as he slid the hotel keycard into the proper slot. Lassiter was behind him, playing his part, all push and restrained aggressive lust, crowding into his space. Shawn had never expected Lassiter to be this good at acting -- not when he was playing a desperate man paying for a little kinky action with a prostitute, especially when that prostitute was supposed to be Shawn.
Just a few more minutes, Shawn promised himself, entirely too weirded out by the whole experience and way too turned on by the same token. Soon they'd be in the safety of the hotel room where they could stop acting, where Lassiter would be Lassiter again and they could compare notes and crack the murder and never speak of any of it again.
Shawn unlocked the room door and pushed it open, glancing around the softly-lit suite. His keen eyes quickly landed on the cameras that someone -- probably the pimp, or whatever he was supposed to call a high-class, internet-based flesh peddler -- had tried to hide throughout the room. Shawn's forward movement stopped before it started and Lassiter bumped into him, way too close as Shawn scrambled for an idea.
"What?" Lassiter asked gruffly, his voice as strained and rough as Shawn's nerves.
Shawn turned his head a little, leaning into Lassiter, their mouths almost touching. He figured from the vantage of the hidden cameras that that was exactly what it looked like. "There are cameras," he hissed, not quite able to mask the panic in his voice. "What now?"
Lassiter was silent for a moment but then he leaned in closer and Shawn fought the instinct to pull away. "We play this 'til the end, Spencer," he told him meaningfully. "Got it?"
Lassiter's eyes on him were like fire and Shawn could feel the deadly seriousness radiating from the detective, almost as well as he could feel his body heat through their clothes. As his heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest, Shawn breathed his agreement, suddenly understanding why Lassiter had tried to warn him off this case.
Finally Shawn pushed into the hotel room and nothing seemed to calm his nerves as he listened to Lassiter latch the door behind them. Shawn busied himself with tossing the card key on the nightstand, waiting for Lassiter to make the next move.
"You do this -- often?" Lassiter asked, and Shawn turned to look at him. He realized that since they didn't know if the room was wired for sound as well as video that they would have to play it safe, and keep up in the act in every way possible.
Shawn swallowed nervously, trying to beat back the skittishness he felt as Lassiter moved toward him. "No," he said honestly, glad that 'his' pimp only acted as a cyber-intermediary, that he didn't bother with knowing much about his boys and that it was perfectly acceptable for his voice to shake because -- no, he'd never been paid to have sex with another man, especially one who he knew was a cop and who he had never expected to know like this. "You?"
"Enough," he replied, and Shawn could almost believe him and, wow, Lassy was a damn good actor. Lassiter unknotted his tie and slipped off his expensive suit jacket -- so much nicer than his actual clothes, Shawn noted -- before tossing it over a chair. "You don't have to be nervous."
Shawn licked his lips, knowing that Lassiter was trying to reassure him. He had a stray, desperate hope that Gus would never find out how far he was having to go for this case because Gus had told him over and over not to get involved; Shawn decided that maybe he should seriously start listening to people like Gus and Lassy when they warned him to stay away from high-stakes cases involving blackmail, prostitution and murder. "Don't worry about me," he said, trying to steel himself. "I can make good. I promise."
Lassiter still wasn't very close, so Shawn took the initiative and crowded into his space, like he'd done a million times before when it wasn't a prelude to sex.
"Oh, I know you will," Lassiter all but purred, causing Shawn to shiver from the implied violence in his agreement.
"What do you want?" Shawn hadn't known before that moment that he could sound like that, breathless and needy and scared all at the same time.
Nor had he known he could get off on the answering heat in Lassiter's gaze, in his rough voice saying, "I think that's obvious, don't you?"
"Yeah," Shawn nodded, glancing toward the bed. "Bed?"
He stepped toward the huge plush-looking bed but Lassiter stopped him, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him against him. Shawn barely managed to swallow the automatic indignation the action caused. "I thought we had an arrangement," Lassiter growled. "You don't do anything I don't tell you to, you got me?"
Shawn nodded dumbly, not sure what else to do. There was a sense of disconnection from reality and Lassiter was no longer his lifeline in the charade but part of the landscape, a stranger with something dangerous simmering in his eyes and flushing his skin, something different from the perpetually irritated detective he knew in his real life.
"Good," Lassiter said as he used his hold to twist them around, pushing Shawn roughly against the hotel wall, harkening back to scenes from the police station that would forever bear an inappropriate taint after that evening. But unlike those other times, Lassiter followed Shawn's body with his own, pinning Shawn in place.
Shawn couldn't decide what was more shocking: that he was already half-hard or that Lassiter was.
"I'm going to fuck you," Lassiter said through gritted teeth, loud in the quiet room and Shawn choked on his air. "Right here, right now. And you're going to like it. You understand?"
He nodded again, not sure how he was supposed to feel about the fact that he didn't remember ever being as turned on as he was at that moment, as Lassiter started yanking the shirt from his body, threatening to fuck him through the wall. Shawn was almost tempted to give into the smart-assed comments rising like hysteria in the back of his throat but every time he glanced up at Lassiter's glittering eyes and stone-serious face, he kept his mouth shut, wrangling his fingers to undo the buttons on Lassiter's shirt when ordered to do so.
Lassiter's tongue left salty patterns on his skin as Shawn tugged the shirt open. His hands went to Lassiter's shoulders under the fine white fabric, steadying himself, biting back a moan as Lassiter left bite marks on his shoulder, trailing down to the nipple he left glistening as his mouth traveled back up to teethe on his earlobe.
"I'm the paying customer here, Spencer," Lassiter breathed in his ear. "Try making it look good."
"Waiting for orders," he breathed back, just a little on the smart-assed side, even as he began to plant open-mouth kisses on Lassiter's chest, running fingers through the crinkly hair, moving downward as he returned the earlier favor, scraping his teeth along a sensitive nipple.
"Oh, fuck," Lassiter swore and Shawn felt smugly superior about it, feeling a little more like himself even if he was standing in a hotel room about to be fucked on camera -- by Carlton Lassiter, no less.
He decided to write it off as one of his worst fever dreams and leave it at that.
Shawn didn't have long to feel superior, though, because Lassiter was attacking his jeans, undoing the zipper after he popped the button open, demanding that Shawn strip out of them and his boxers.
The self-consciousness and embarrassment were back and Shawn faltered on the movement; Lassiter roughly cupped his jaw, forcing him to look up at him. "Now," he ordered hoarsely but there was sympathy in his eyes and Shawn nodded, feeling himself moving to obey, kicking off shoes, the jeans and boxers.
He didn't have time to feel any more embarrassment from standing there buck-ass naked, because he was pushed back up against the wall, so roughly that he could feel the slight grittiness of the wall's uneven paint job scraping along his bare back. Meanwhile Lassiter was reaching for his dick and Shawn didn't know what to do with himself until Lassiter stroked him firmly and then he was scrambling for purchase again, short nails digging into the detective's shoulders until they drew blood. He wanted Lassiter to stop until he did and then Shawn wanted that hand back on him and he knew he was definitely losing his mind now because he didn't think he'd ever wanted that before that minute, except for maybe theoretically but that hadn't counted except for maybe it had because it existed right then.
Panting, Shawn watched as Lassiter worked his own belt loose, unbuttoning the nice slacks that matched the discarded jacket. He didn't know what made him do it but something caused him to reach between their bodies and still Lassiter's hand. Lassiter looked up at him, blue eyes dilated but grave, confused by the action. Instead of trying to explain in some way that Lassiter-the-detective might understand, Shawn mimicked Lassiter's earlier actions by reaching into the unbuttoned pants and taking the hard cock into one hand, running his sweaty, inexperienced palm over its length until Lassiter made a noise in his throat that was half-whimper and half-groan. Shawn repeated the action, hoping to wring another new sound from Lassiter's mouth but the detective stopped him, roughly catching Shawn by the wrists and pushing them up and over his head, pinning him against that same damn wall.
Lassiter stood nose-to-nose with him, painfully gripping his hands above his head. "I told you about that," he growled. "Only do as I say." There was a tremble under all the lust and anger and Shawn suddenly realized just how much of an actor Lassiter really was.
"What do you want, then?"
Lassiter buried his head against Shawn's shoulder for one moment and it was the closest he'd come to breaking his character. It made Shawn want to comfort him but his arms were still pinned high above his head.
Then Lassiter straightened up, dropping his hold on Shawn's wrists.
"This," he explained in that gravelly voice that sent shivers up Shawn's spine and he slid his hands down Shawn's back, down to his ass, down over a thigh which he hitched up and ordered Shawn to hook around his waist. Shawn obeyed, bringing their dicks into delicious contact and Lassiter ground into him, forcing Shawn to decide that it was sad that his first homosexual encounter ever was with Lassiter, in a hotel wired for porn-making with every move overlaid with fear and nerves and helplessness.
Shawn tried to convince himself that he could forget about everything else by concentrating on physical pleasure of it all, but then he felt the fingers of one of Lassiter's hands ghosting over his asshole and he had to fight not to tense and push his way free, suddenly, frighteningly reminded of how the act was supposed to end.
But Lassiter sensed his discomfort and his mouth dropped to his ear again. "Calm the fuck down, Spencer," he warned. Shawn had never expected Lassiter to ever use fuck when he wasn't in character but then he had and it was way too fucking hot, in his opinion. "We're almost home. Just follow my lead for once in your goddamn life, okay?"
He wanted to point out that Lassiter had been leading him around by the dick since they hit the hotel room but Lassiter's fingers were way too close to his asshole for him to push the man over the edge. Still, he couldn't help but to murmur, "What, no lube?" when his mouth was close enough to Lassiter's ear that a bug wouldn't have been able to pick up the taunt.
Lassiter's hand moved away from his ass, settling to tighten warningly on his hip. "Just play along."
Shawn nodded, waiting for his next cue, squirming as the hand still on his ass cheek tightened. Lassiter pulled back a little and looked at him, all their frantic movement fading into stillness.
There must have been something in his face that worried Lassiter because the detective was suddenly grim, seemingly hesitant to continue. Shawn silently cursed that Lassiter had chose that moment to start having a heart instead of thinking with whichever head had gotten them that far.
He wet his lips and looked up defiantly. "You gonna fuck me or what?" he asked in his most provocative voice, hoping that it sent the right message buried behind the sultry act.
It seemed to do the trick because Lassiter started moving again, hands pulling him into a position he'd never expected to ever assume, especially not with Lassiter.
"You don't have to ask me twice," he told him, again loudly, thrusting forward violently with his hips and Shawn tried not to tense but he didn't know what to expect because Lassiter really hadn't used any lube and he knew enough to know that it was going to hurt.
It did hurt, and he let out a strangled gasp but not because he suddenly had a dick up his unprepared ass but because his undercover partner -- who may have just been a dick -- had bitten him hard. Shawn could feel the blood welling up from the tender spot on his neck as he felt Lassiter's cock sliding between his thighs, still erotic and hot and dirty but nothing like what he'd been expecting.
Suddenly it all added up: the sex against the wall, Lassiter's lack of nudity, the precise way he'd arranged their limbs. It was a very clever ploy to hide their bodies from the cameras, saving them from having to have penetrative sex without breaking their covers and Shawn felt an absurd amount of gratitude well up inside him for Lassiter -- even if they were still currently having some kind of sex up against the wall, Lassiter's dick squeezed against Shawn's thigh, his own trapped between their bodies.
Lassiter's mouth had moved back to his ear. "You alright?" he whispered between well-coordinated thrusts.
"I guess," Shawn answered honestly, too overwhelmed to be anything but.
Lassiter's hips sped up and one hand slipped between them, to Shawn's dick. "I'm sorry about this," he breathed against Shawn's skin and his voice was so earnest and truthful that it made Shawn want to cry even as his orgasm was breaking over him.
"'Sokay," he managed to gasp before he came, Lassiter not far behind. For all his consideration to keep them from having full-on penetrative sex on camera, they still ended up sweaty and sticky and covered in semen -- which felt exactly like sex to Shawn.
Lassiter's arms tightened around his waist as he crashed against him, both struggling to stay upright, relying on the solidness of the wall behind Shawn's back. Shawn shakily lowered the leg he'd had around Lassiter even though it didn't offer much in the way of support.
It took him a minute to realize that Lassiter was whispering in his ear again. "Give me five minutes, then get dressed and head down to the parking lot," he said. "I'll have O'Hara waiting for you."
Shawn nodded his understanding. Lassiter pulled away, leaving Shawn with only the wall and his jellied legs to keep him standing.
"It was good, " Lassiter remarked out loud, at a volume Shawn had come to realize was for the microphones that may or may not have been in the room. "Worth every penny."
Hysteria was probably imminent which was why Shawn was able to muster a laugh. "I aim to please," he said, watching Lassiter straighten his clothes, zip his pants, grab his jacket.
Lassiter paused at the nightstand and chucked a wad of twenties down next to the hotel card key. "Don't spend it all in one place," he joked with the kind of creepy lewdness that made Shawn glad he knew it was all an act.
He didn't watch Lassiter leave but as soon as he heard the door slam behind him, he sank down to the floor, legs useless beneath him.
Shawn waited seven minutes; then he ducked into the suite's bathroom for a quick cleanup before shakily pulling on his rumpled clothes, grabbing the cash and sprinting out of the room that still smelt sickeningly of fear and sex. He stumbled down to the concrete parking lot where Jules was waiting for him in an unmarked car.
He'd never been more glad to see a familiar face in his life.
She seemed concerned as she watched him he climb in, even trying to touch a finger to the bloody bite mark on his neck. He brushed her hand and her concerns away.
"I'm fine," he said and she nodded but Shawn could tell that she didn't believe him.
He didn't either.
Author's Notes: I have sat on this fic for over two months now because I am a big coward. This is my first piece of porn ever and it's taken the prodding of all of my buddies list above (plus the beta goddess Kel, of course) to get me to post this publically. There will be more to follow to this but I just can't promise when.
insane far beyond her years
fighter, farmer, metalsmith; wearer of exotic hairpipes
- FIC: "Occupational Hazards (I)" by Regann - NC-17 - Shawn/Lassiter