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The Only Thing Holding You Back Is You

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Shawn opens the door on the fourth knock. He squawks as he's shoved aside, twisted so that his back is against the wall and he's awkwardly straddling the umbrella stand, thankfully sans umbrellas. There's a hand fisted in the front of his shirt and he can't help the gasp that escapes him, or the thrill of arousal that runs through his body at the show of force. He's not worried, at least not about the manhandling—about the erection that's building, yes—not when he follows the arm up to meet a pair of intense blue eyes. His default goofy smile melts into something softer, something real. He was wondering when it would come to this.

"Show me," Lassiter growls, the sound of it hitting Shawn like an electrical current straight to his groin. In the good way, not the being tasered way.

There's tension in the air and it's Shawn's automatic impulse to defuse it with a joke. "Really, Lassie? No first base?"

Lassiter's gaze doesn't waver. "Show. Me."

Shawn raises his hands. "A little room?" Lassiter backs up a step but doesn't let go. Shawn doesn't want him to. Ever, but at least it gives him room to step around the umbrella stand. He lowers his hands to his pants. One hand holds his shirt up while the other pushes the front of his jeans down, revealing the gunmetal grey pineapple mark on his pelvis.

Lassiter sucks in a breath. His eyes are glued to the soulmark.

Shawn drops his shirt, hiding the mark once more. He reaches forward slowly, giving Lassiter time to pull away before he pushes aside the collar of Lassiter's dress shirt—unbuttoned for a change, which means Lassiter was either on a date or drinking... or both—to reveal the matching pineapple soulmark on Lassiter's clavicle.

"You knew." The words aren't quite an accusation but they could be, if Shawn didn't have one to throw right back.

"So did you."

There are too many emotions swirling in Lassiter's eyes for Shawn to pick just one. Confusion. Hurt. Hope. "Why didn't you..."

"Say anything?" Shawn forces a smile and shrugs. "You love your wife."

Lassiter stares at him. He still hasn't let go of Shawn's shirt. "Ex-wife. I signed the divorce papers today. Why do you live in a dry cleaner's?"

"Because I like dry cleaning. Are you going to let go of me?"

"No. Is that a problem?"

Shawn grins. "Only if you think erections are a problem."

Confusion crosses Lassiter's face as he parses the statement, lets it sink in, then Shawn's back hits the wall again—thankfully without obstructions and there's a hot, wet mouth devouring his. Shawn doesn't even remember opening his mouth. Maybe it was already open. All he knows is that Lassiter's body is a firm line against his, pressing him into the wall while Lassiter's tongue invades Shawn's mouth like he's clearing the space of potential threats. Shawn moans, the sound swallowed by Lassiter's hungry lips. His erection is fully alive now and stuck between their bodies without any source of friction.

That is a damn, damn shame.

Shawn shifts a fraction to the side, just enough to get one leg up around Lassiter. He rolls his hips and there it is, that's what he's looking for. He whines, deep in his throat. He's had partners before. He's chased Juliet and Abigail and so many others but none of them compare to this—his soulmate. He could come just from this, just from the weight of Lassiter's body and the friction of Shawn's jeans rubbing against Lassiter's dress slacks.

Instead, he gets more. Lassiter breaks the kiss to reach down, grabbing Shawn by the thighs and hoisting him up so that Shawn can wrap his legs around Lassiter's waist. Lassiter's erection presses against Shawn's ass. His head hits the wall with a loud thump.

"Yes," Shawn says. "Whatever. Just yes. You can fuck me right here, against the wall. Please?"

Lassiter laughs. It's the first honest laugh Shawn thinks he's ever heard come out of the detective. Lassiter's head falls to Shawn's shoulder and the shift in position makes their erections brush together. Lassiter's fingers dig into Shawn's thighs and Shawn thinks, yeah, I could ride him like this.

"How are you this easy?" Lassiter says, the words soft against Shawn's collar.

"I'm not easy! Well, okay, technically I am, but only for certain people."

Lassiter snorts. He doesn't lift his head. His nose brushes Shawn's collarbone seconds before Lassiter bites there, lightly.

"Fuck!" Shawn can't help rolling his hips. He needs... He needs a lot of things, but right now he needs Lassiter's cock in him. He doesn't care where—mouth, ass, hell, Lassiter can fuck him in the ear for all Shawn cares as long as he gets to taste Lassiter's come after.

"We should..." Lassiter licks his lips. His tongue brushes Shawn's skin, just for a second. "We should slow down. Talk. My last... I'm bad at... This. All of this."

Shawn detaches one of his hands from where it's wrinkling Lassiter's dress shirt and runs his fingers through Lassiter's hair. He's amazed that Lassiter allows it. He's amazed that they're touching at all. "You're doing amazing so far. Do you really want to stop this," Shawn punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, "to talk? I mean, I can multitask, if you really want, or we can talk after, in bed. Pillow talk is a key for relationships."

Shawn's whole body jars as his feet suddenly hit the floor. Lassiter steps away and Shawn's hands chase after him, unwilling to relinquish their hold. But Lassiter isn't leaving. There's something molten and primal in the way he looks at Shawn. All it takes is one word to get Shawn moving. "Bed."

Shawn grabs Lassiter's hand and tugs, leading Lassiter deeper into his apartment/dry cleaner's to where the bed awaits. The bed is large, because Shawn doesn't like to spend his nights alone, with soft sheets that he spent what others would consider too much money on. He tugs his shirt off and tosses it to the side before shucking the rest of his clothing and diving onto the bed. When he turns over, he finds Lassiter standing at the foot of the bed, still clothed, still hard, and looking somewhat stunned.

"What's the matter, Lassy? I thought you wanted a piece of this pie?"

"I... what... no food references." Lassiter looks down and away, but he starts unbuttoning his shirt. It's a start.

Shawn wiggles up to the headboard and grabs the tube of lube he keeps stashed behind the mattress. When he glances back, Lassiter is still working on his shirt, so Shawn pops the tube open and liberally coats his fingers. He bites back a moan as he slides his fingers into his hole and slicks himself up.

"Jesus, Spencer... Shawn..."

Shawn turns his head and grins at the poleaxed look on Lassiter's face. "Like what you see?" He spreads his knees farther apart and drops his chest to the bed. It's harder to reach his ass like this, but the noise Lassiter makes is well worth it.

The bed dips behind him and Shawn pulls his fingers out to grope blindly for Carlton's cock. He moans into his pillow when Lassiter lets him feel it, lining up so Shawn can slick him up. Carlton is long and thick, just the way Shawn likes. He's going to suck that thing like a lollipop later. He's going to blow Lassiter in the bullpen and then make Lassiter fuck him in the station bathroom. Maybe he can get Lassiter to bring out the handcuffs.

A sharp smack on his ass makes Shawn arch and gasp. "No abusing police property," Carlton says and maybe all of those things Shawn had been thinking were out loud.

"Not even the handcuffs?"

"No," Lassiter says but his hands are on Shawn's ass, holding Shawn open as he lines up. "Don't make me spank you."

"Promise?"

Lassiter pauses with his dick touching Shawn's ass. He's so close to pushing in that Shawn can't help but push back a little, trying to get Lassiter to move. That earns him another swat, harder, and Shawn moans.

"Later," Lassiter says, something almost reverent in his voice, and then he's shoving in, spearing Shawn open and Shawn's seeing stars. His hands fist the sheets on either side of his head and he can't help shouting as Lassiter seats himself inside of Shawn. "Are you okay?"

Shawn nods, a bit too fast, and he has to press his forehead to the sheets. "Fuck, yes. Fuck me already."

But Lassiter doesn't move. There's a moment of stillness instead before Lassiter says, his voice hard and commanding, "What's the magic word?"

"Fuck. Please." If this is how Lassiter wants to play it, Shawn is more than happy to go along. "Fuck me. Please. I need your cock."

"That's right." The power in his voice is the same as when he's taking down a bad guy and it goes straight to Shawn's dick. He foresees a lot of sneaking off after crime scenes to get Lassiter in him. But what matters right now is the fact that Carlton's moving his hips, starting a slow drag out of Shawn's body and an equally slow shove back in. "Beg me for it."

"Please. Please, Lassy, let me have it."

The nickname earns Shawn another smack on the ass. "You know my name."

"Please. Lassiter." That gets Carlton moving a little faster. "Carlton." Carlton's hips stutter forward, faster than before. "Sir."

There's the jackpot. Carlton thrusts inside of him hard enough to push Shawn forward on the bed. He lets go of the sheets to put his palms flat on the headboard, bracing himself for the thrust that immediately follows.

"Yes!" Shawn's pretty sure his neighbors hear him for the next two blocks. "Yes, fuck, please. Fuck me, Sir. Fuck me like that."

Carlton's fingers dig into Shawn's hips and Shawn hopes he has bruises tomorrow. He wants to wear his lowest cut jeans and sit on Lassiter's desk, right where Lassiter has no choice but to look at the marks and think of how hard he fucked Shawn.

"Is that how you like it?" Lassiter asks. "You like it rough?"

"I like it however you'll give me, Sir." Shawn turns his head to look back and Lassiter's eyes meet his instantly. There's a fire in Lassiter that he's never seen before and it burns straight through him. He has to close his eyes as a wave of pleasure ripples through him and he screams from the force of it.

"That's right," Lassiter says and God, Shawn needs to record that voice and play it back every time he's got a minute alone and enough privacy to put his hand on his cock. He could come from the authority in that voice. "You're mine. My soulmate. You were made for me. Made to take my cock and like it."

"I like it," Shawn says, stating a fact that is obvious from the come leaking from his untouched cock to the nail marks he's leaving on his headboard to the way his toes are curling next to Lassiter's feet. "Please. Make me come. I'm so close. Please."

Lassiter grins and slides one hand to Shawn's front. For a brief moment, he thinks Lassiter's about to stroke him into release, but Lassiter's fingers curl tight around the base of Shawn's cock. Shawn whines, deep in his throat.

"Do you want it?"

"Please. Please."

Lassiter groans. His hips pound into Shawn and Shawn's going to feel this tomorrow every time he tries to sit down. It's going to be a standing day, Shawn thinks, as another powerful thrust rocks him into the headboard.

"Please, Sir. Please let me come. I'll be good for you. I'll be so good."

"Fuck!" Lassiter bites the word out. "You're never good. You know you aren't. But you're mine."

"Yes," Shawn nearly screams the word. "Yours. Always. So much yours."

Lassiter's grip relaxes. His hand moves and Shawn's whole body clenches as he comes, hard and fast, just from that one touch. He hears Carlton bite out a groan. Carlton's hips move, just a little more, and then they're slowing, stilling until Carlton finally pulls out, leaving Shawn leaking come.

Shawn doesn't know what to do next. He doesn't know what to say next. This is Head Detective Lassiter who hates emotions and hates cuddling and all things soft and romantic and sweet. What the hell does he do?

"Come here," Lassiter says, and then he's pulling Shawn down to lie beside him, one arm under Shawn's neck, the other pulling Shawn's hips against his. Shawn's head lands on Carlton's shoulder and from here they reek of sex and sweat and the joining of two bodies in perfect unity.

"Do you want to talk?" Shawn ask but he doesn't look up, afraid of the sudden switch to seriousness. He doesn't do serious well. Serious is death and divorce and mom moving away.

Lassiter's hands rest on the small of Shawn's back and his hip. "Not yet," Lassiter says. "I think it can wait a little longer." Shawn nods and smiles as Lassiter's fingers play on his skin. "Maybe until morning."

Shawn grins. "You're buying me breakfast. I want waffles."

Lassiter snorts. "I can make you waffles."

"Deal." And maybe, just maybe, they can sneak another round in before Lassiter has to leave for work.