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Shawn thinks it's weird how Gus always manages to look business casual even when he's mostly naked. Weirdly adorable, that is. He takes a moment to admire the perfect chocolately smoothness of his friend's back, and the flex of muscle as Gus checks for the ninth time that the bindings aren't too tight.

It's also weird that Lassie agreed to this, since his usual idea of giving up control is letting someone else order his coffee.

Weirdly awesome, that is.

Lassie - and Shawn still can't bring himself to call the man Carlton - twitches just a little at the shoulders and knees, testing the ties holding him to the bed. It makes his hips do a little shimmy-type movement that Shawn approves of kind of a lot.

"I don't know, Shawn," Gus says doubtfully. "I still think we should have undressed him before we tied him up."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "Gus, don't be a lonely little petunia in the onion patch. It's so much kinkier this way. Weren't you saying just yesterday you wanted more excitement in your life?"

"I was talking about trying a shot of raspberry syrup in my mocha, Shawn." Gus does that really nice pouty thing with his lips, and Shawn is just about to take advantage of it when Lassiter makes an irritable throat-clearing sound.

"Gentlemen?" Shawn is impressed with how composed he manages to sound, all tied up and spreadeagled with the bulge of a truly enthusiastic erection leaking a wet spot on his pants. "Do you think we could get a move on with this?"

"Oh!" How embarrassing. "Right, sorry. Guy on the bed. Gus! You want to do your thing?"

Gus has a fascination bordering on fetish with Lassiter's neck. Shawn's never been able to figure out exactly why - he's not a big fan of stubble burn, himself - but he thinks it probably has something to do with the way Lassie goes all melty and groanful when Gus scrapes his teeth along the thin skin under his jaw.

It's fun to watch the way he stretches up for more, eyes rolling back in his head, but Shawn has other, more southerly plans.

The wet patch at Lassiter's crotch is bigger, now - Lassie is moving his hips just slightly; tiny little jerks up and down that rub his dick against the inside of his pants.

"Naughty," Shawn scolds him lightly, hearing the way his own voice has gone all deepish and manly. He rubs a soothing hand against his own erection as he gets comfy on the bed, and leans over to breathe warm breath against Lassiter's crotch.

"Ungh," Lassie says, all strangled sounding, and it makes Shawn accidentally push his own hips against the mattress a time or two. It feels good, so he does it some more as he's busy undoing Lassiter's pants and pulling his hard, wow, really hard cock out of his pants.

It's leaking all down the head; little pulses of pre-come, and Shawn follows the trail of one with his finger, up and over. Lassie bucks up with an awesome little desperate grunting sound, and Shawn rewards him with the tip of his tongue.

The bedposts make a creaking sound as Lassiter jerks, pulling against the ties. Gus makes a muffled grumbly sound, halfway between turned on and disapproving, and Shawn reaches up one hand to distract him. Follows the muscle of one taut thigh until he hits the material of his shorts, then sneaks over to where the good part is, hot and thick against his palm. He squeezes, just to hear Gus' voice go all vowelly and approving against Lassiter's skin.

Speaking of, he thinks, and turns his attention back to Little Big Lassiter under his tongue. He slides his lips over the head and lets it push against the roof of his mouth. Sucks in tiny pulses, using his other hand to rub against the warm slick flesh his mouth can't reach.

The push and thrust of his own erection against the bed is getting distracting; hot jolts of goodgoodgood are pooling in his belly and balls and his vision is starting to blur. He speeds his hand, jerking Gus off with strong, regular strokes and feeling the surge and twitch against his skin.

Gus moans against Lassie's neck, breathing hard against the skin and lunging forward, wetting Shawn's hand in quick slippery pulses. Shawn can't help himself; brings his sticky hand down and shoves it down to grab his own dick, the squeeze and pull bringing him over just as Lassiter tenses and groans, coming in hard spurts against his tongue.

The hand that rests against the nape of his neck, thumb massaging the base of his skull, belongs to Lassiter. Shawn thinks that's weird until he glances up and sees that the bedpost is broken.

So, not so much weird as hot. It'll totally be worth it when Gus murders them both.