“Now,” Shawn declared, wiping the last vestiges of combined cream from his abs with his washcloth and taking a satisfied look at their clothes-strewn motel room, “that’s what I’m talking about.”
Gus automatically reached for a fistbump, which caused Juliet to wrinkle her brow as she plunked her head on Shawn’s chest. “Careful of my nose.”
“Don’t worry, my little blonde sexbomb…”
“Sexbomb’s accurate,” Gus approved, trying to extract his arm from beneath Shawn’s head. His friend wasn’t moving from his back – blissed-out to the extreme like this, Shawn wasn’t going to move.
“Really?” Juliet grinned into Shawn’s chest. “You were great too, Gus. I didn’t know you were so bendy.”
“Oh, our Superhead’s quit a yoga nut.” Shawn yawned into his fist and tried to resituate himself so he could get his arm around Gus.
“Ballet,” Gus corrected him. “I take it after tap every other Sunday.”
“You’re a ballerina?” Juliet asked. “I always wanted to take lessons!”
“You didn’t?” Shawn asked, playing with one of her nipples.
Juliet’s words came out in a low growl. “I had to pick between modern dance and ballet. I wanted to learn how to breakdance, so...”
“You breakdance?” Gus smiled at her nod. “You’ve chose wisely, young Jedi,” he informed Shawn, kissing his forehead.
Shawn beamed. “See? We’re bonding!” He started playing with the soft outer fringe of hair on Juliet’s muff. She sighed and stretched against him.
“We already bonded,” Juliet pointed out, grinding against him.
“I know. Even twinkle toes knows.” His voice was unsteady with growing lust.
Gus was still protesting, not allowing Shawn to tease him.“Don’t start make fun of me, man. I’ll tell Jules and Carl about the time you…”
“Not the Pez dispenser story…” Juliet nibbled Shawn’s chin, making it hard for him to concentrate enough to continue his thought.
“…And for two days after that I had a limp!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Back me up on this, Carl…” he frowned when he didn't get a reply.
“Carl” was where he’d lain since Gus and Shawn had double-teamed him into submission, flat on his back with a vaguely confused look on his face, naked except for his tie, his half-limp cock still glistening with lubrication.
“Lassie!” Shawn’s voice cut through the silence. He was holding onto Jules with one arm and fiddling with the remote in his free one. “What do you like better – Fifty Bros for One Bride or Not Quite Little House on The Prairie XXX?”
That woke Lassiter up from his trance. “I’m not paying for your smut, Spencer,” he rolled over and winced at the kink he’d worked up. “Damn it, next time warn me when you’re going to make me move my neck that way.”
“Who says there’ll be a next time?” Shawn replied.
“I don’t know if my cerebral cortex could take it,” Gus added.
“Are you trying to limit us to a one-night thing? I find that unacceptable.”
“I agree with Carlton,” Juliet said. Shawn had begun fingering her lazily, so the words didn’t carry the impact she wished them to have.
She gently pushed his hand away and Shawn obediently yanked up the covers. He locked eyes with Gus, who returned his gaze knowingly. “I’m not going to pay for your porn either, Shawn.”
“Oh, like you don’t want to know how many lonely cowpokes they can pack into not-Missus Olson!”
Gus crossed his arms and glared. “I’m not into poking cows.”
Lassie stared at them in confusion, as if the fog had finally cleared from his brain. “Which one of you pulled that corkscrew maneuver with your tongue?”
“That was me,” Juliet offered.
Carlton raised an approving brow. “Very inventive, O’Hara.”
“Can we please go back to sleep?” Gus complained. “This bed’s giving me motion sickness!”
“You’re the one who wanted a waterbed,” Juliet pointed out. She was already starting to settle into Shawn’s grip.
“I thought it would help my spasmodic hips!”
“You know you get sick when you even peek at a boat,” Shawn replied. “Now go to sleep, my sugar-dipped Ricky Martin.”
“I’ll shake your bon bon,” Gus grumbled rolling onto his stomach. “Good night.”
“Night,” Shawn echoed, kissing the back of Jules’ neck. “Night Lassie?”
“Hmm? Oh, good night, Spencer.” After a long pause, he turned back toward Shawn. “Did you really call Burton Superhead a couple of minutes ago?”
“Yep.” Shawn yawned and stretched. “Night, Mighty Mouth.”
Lassiter glanced at a now-sleeping Shawn and Juliet, then back at a snoring Gus. He raised a brow, remarked “This is going to make one hell of an incident report” to the silence, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.