You Can Call Me The Lone Ranger
The case that he had closed earlier that day had been brutal. Jessica Portman, a 21-year old college student, was found raped and beaten to death underneath a bush outside the local mall by a Jamba Juice employee during his break. Sure, he had worked plenty of rape and murder cases during his tenure as Head Detective but this case got to him. Maybe it was because the young woman looked so much like his younger sister or the fact that the psychic detective, that he secretly admired, wasn't his normal happy-go-lucky self.
Throughout the two week duration of the case, the psychic slowly became more and more demure, eventually getting to the point that the Chief had seriously considered pulling the younger man off the case if it wasn't solved soon. Fortunately, hours after the talk with the Chief there was a major break and the murderer was apprehended. Once all of the paperwork was completed and the suspect was booked, the Chief decided that everyone could use a break and sent everyone home early. That was what led Detective Carlton Lassiter to be at the local gun range at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
The lanky detective pulled himself out of his Ford Fusion and grabbed the bag containing his favorite Smith & Wesson revolver from the trunk. He only ever took this gun to the range when he needed to relax from a particularly grueling case and this case surely fell under the heading of "grueling". A bell dinged as he opened the door to the range. Lassiter nodded at the man at the front desk before walking quickly to the door that would lead him to the outdoor shooting range. The sky was overcast and he hoped that the other patrons would be utilizing the indoor section and leaving the outdoor section free just for him. Lassiter was delighted when he noted that there was only one other shooter outdoors.
He walked past the other man who was hunched over, rummaging around in a bag at his feet, and made his way to the station farthest from the door and the other shooter, but not before noting the nearly perfect shots the other man already had in his target.
He needed this alone time to relax and forget about the case and Shawn Spencer. He cared more than he would like to admit about the younger man's reaction to the case. Everyone at the station pretty much thought that he hated Spencer but in truth his insults and anger towards the psychic was just an attempt to keep the other man at bay. He had no clue when it had happened but at some point while working together, Spencer had gone from an annoyance, to a friend, to possibly something more. Suddenly, Lassiter didn't mind when the younger man touched him or jumped in his lap. Of course, he had to push him off but that was more for appearance than anything. He would have gladly let Spencer sit there all day if that was what the other man wanted. No other person had ever made him smile as much as Spencer did, not even when he was married to Victoria.
The younger man had wormed his way into his heart and it scared – no, terrified - Lassiter. He had never, in his entire life, been attracted to a man and the fact that he developed feelings for a man and that that man was so different than him was surprising to say the least. Yet, Lassiter would never act on these feelings. Sure, Spencer would all but accost him, but that didn't mean that the other man felt anything for him. There was no way he would put himself in a situation that could possibly blow up in his face as spectacularly as it would if he opened himself up to Spencer and was shot down.
He had to keep their relationship professional. Of course being concerned about the emotional well-being of a co-worker was professional, wasn't it? Spencer had been acting different throughout the entire case. He wasn't making any random 80s references or talking about the awesomeness of his hair. He wasn't obsessing about pineapple smoothies or flirting with everyone they came into contact with. Something was seriously wrong with Spencer and that concerned Lassiter. Unfortunately, the head detective couldn't figure out a way to help the psychic without putting his mask of indifference in jeopardy. He just had to hope that the younger man would snap out of it on his own.
But he had come to the gun range to forget about the case and about Spencer and that was what he intended on doing. He unzipped the small duffel bag he carried and removed the revolver and all of the ammunition he had brought with him. He placed the ammo cartridges on the wooden plank that served as both a shelf and the barrier for the range. Lassiter loaded the rounds into the gun and then snapped the cylinder back into place. He sent the paper target he was going to use down the line and put the provided ear protection on. Finally, he stepped up to the line, aimed at his target and fired. He easily squeezed the trigger and dispensed all six rounds. Without hesitation Lassiter reloaded, fired, and emptied his gun once again.
When he was done he flipped the switch that would bring his paper target back to him. While waiting he removed the muffs he wore on his ears. He didn't hear any other shooting and noted that while all of his stuff was still at his station, the other man was no longer there. His attention was drawn to his target when he heard the click of it reaching the end of the line in front of him. Lassiter was impressed when he looked at his target. Usually when he was shooting after a rough case it would take a few rounds before his shooting was up to his usual standards. Yet this time all of his bullets had found their marks. If the target was a real person he would most definitely be dead.
His attention was so captured by his target that he was startled when he heard clapping coming from behind him. Lassiter turned and was shocked when he found none other than Shawn Spencer leaning casually on a wooden post just five feet behind him. Spencer stopped clapping but the detective was speechless. The psychic couldn't be here. This was where the older man came to forget about Spencer and he always came to this gun range and had never seen the other man before. Plus, what did Spencer even know about guns. Sure, his dad was a cop but Lassiter hadn't ever heard the psychic talk about being able to shoot.
"Spencer, what are you doing here?" Lassiter practically growled.
"I don't know what you usually do at shooting ranges, but I usually, you know, shoot." Spencer replied with his all too familiar smirk. Damn, it was good to see that smirk.
"I know what normal people do at shooting ranges, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out overdosing on pineapples with Guster or something?"
"Normally you would be correct, Lassie-pants. However, Gus apparently had to go to a meeting for his boring-people job instead of doing something super awesome with me."
"So you just decided 'hey Gus isn't here, let me go do something I have no clue doing.' I haven't ever seen you here Spencer, do you even know how to shoot a gun?"
"Just call me the Lone Ranger. Have you forgotten that the bald wonder, Henry Spencer, is my father? That man taught me to shoot before I entered kindergarten. And also, you have seen me here. You saw me like five minutes ago when you walked past me to get to your lonely, isolated little station down here. If you really wanted to be this alone you could've gone to the North Pole and shot some penguins or something."
"First off, penguins live at the South Pole, not the North Pole. Secondly, -"
"But then who makes Santa's hot chocolate?"
Lassiter decided to ignore Spencer's interruption. "Secondly, I came here to relax not hang out with a bunch of strangers."
"They wouldn't be strangers if you talked to them. I personally, think you would be much happier if you didn't spend so much time alone. I know! I'll come shoot over here. Hold on."
Lassiter didn't have time to object before the younger man was bounding away to his original station. The psychic grabbed his bag and gun before traipsing back to the detective. Lassiter was surprised that seeing Spencer holding a gun wasn't more of a shock. The way he carried it was almost as if it was an extension of his arm and made him look kind of sexy. The younger man carelessly plopped his bag on the ground next to Lassiter's and took up residence in the station next to the detective.
"Where did you get that gun? Please don't tell me that some gun store owner actually sold a gun to you, because if they did I'm seriously considering getting their license revoked."
"Nope-a-rooni. I borrowed it from a surly old retired detective. Of course, I did have to promise to go over to his house and polish his fishing trophies after I'm done."
"Your dad gave you a gun and let you leave without proper supervision?"
"Like I said earlier I'm a great shot."
"You never actually said that."
"Anyway, I do have supervision, you! You can watch me as long as you want." The last part had come out suggestively. Was Spencer flirting with him? Well, the man did flirt with everything that moved but usually there was an audience.
"I have better things to do than watch you, Spencer." Lassiter said with less conviction than he had hoped.
The psychic made sure the safety was engaged and placed his gun down on the wooden barrier and took a step closer to the Irish detective.
"See I don't think you do, Lassie. I think all you have planned is to shoot some rounds by yourself, then go home by yourself, then eat dinner by yourself, and then go to sleep by yourself. So I think that you really do have nothing else better to do than watch me. You know what else I think? I think that even if you actually did have better things to do, you would still want to watch me. I think that even though you say you don't like me, you really want to spend time with me. I think that you like me a lot more than you let on."
As Spencer had been talking he had been slowly stepping closer and closer to Lassiter until he was standing mere inches from the detective. Without warning, the fake psychic's lips ghosted over Lassiter's. The lanky detective had no clue what was happening but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. In fact, he wasn't even going to question it. Spencer's lips were still barely touching his own and, without even thinking about it, Lassiter angled his head slightly to the right and applied more pressure to the kiss. Apparently, that slight acquiescence was all that the shorter man had been waiting for.
Spencer grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the equipment shed that stored extra targets and other various supplies. Lassiter was unceremoniously shoved against the shed wall and before he could do anything else he felt the younger man's lips crash down upon his own. His arms acted of their own accord and he quickly found his fingers fisting into the psychic's hair forcing the other man closer. Lassiter heard a needy whimper escape Spencer and took advantage of his slightly parted lips by thrusting his tongue into the psychic's hot mouth. Spencer tasted of pineapple, jerk seasonings, and something the detective couldn't quite describe but assumed was something distinctly Spencer.
When the need to breath became more of a priority than the pleasure of the kiss the two men slowly broke apart.
"Wow! If I knew that this is what happened at the shooting range, I would have followed you here a lot sooner. You know this place could become one of my favorite places ever if we make-out every time we come here! Although, I think we might have to do something a bit more if this place wants to beat out the smoothie shop."
"More?" Lassiter gulped, trying to stop the blush that he could feel creeping up his face. This was the first time he had ever kissed a man, and Spencer wanted more? The detective was slightly nervous to find out what "more" actually meant to the younger man.
More kissing? He could do that, he wanted to do that. Sweet Lady Justice did he want to do that!
He had often imagined what it would have been like to kiss the shorter man and now that he had done it, he found that it was more amazing than he could have hoped. He could spend the rest of the day kissing the other man.
However, Lassiter was sure that Spencer had meant something different when he had said "more."
"Mmmmm. Yes, more." Spencer sighed as he practically leered at the older man. "I want you Lassie. I have for a while now."
Spencer suddenly became more solemn. The younger man looked slightly embarrassed but didn't move away, in fact, he leaned in to the detective a little more.
"I know that this probably isn't the best time. I mean the case I had to be hard on you. The victim looked a lot like your sister and all."
"Well, yeah. That physical resemblance didn't make it any easier, but -" Lassiter hesitated, trying to decide how honest he actually wanted to be and finally deciding to just go for it, he continued, "the main thing that made the case hard was seeing how much it was affecting you. You weren't being your usual hyper-active self. Why was that anyway?"
Lassiter was surprised when Spencer looked up at him with a small smile on his face.
"I was only acting that way because I didn't want to upset you. I didn't want to be the jerk who acted all care-free if you were having a hard time with the murder."
The detective let out an involuntary chuckle when he realized what had happened.
"So you tried to act like a normal person for once trying not to upset me? But you being different was the thing that upset me, making you act even more controlled, making me more upset. I can't believe you did that for me," Lassiter said with amusement and affection.
"It seems as though we were caught up in a vicious oval," Spencer agreed.
"I'm pretty sure it's a vicious circle."
"Ehh. I've heard it both ways."
"Sure you have." Lassiter leaned in and captured the younger man's lips in a kiss different than the tentative first kiss and the lip bruising second kiss. In this kiss, Lassiter was trying to convey the long hidden feelings he had for the younger man, an effort that Spencer seemed to pick up on as he deepened the kiss.
Lassiter felt the shorter man's hands roaming his chest and abdomen until they settled on his waist. In turn, he wrapped his arms around Spencer, pulling him as close as possible. He startled when he felt the other man's hardness press against his thigh. He was even more shocked when he felt himself responding to it.
He pulled Shawn impossibly closer. Lassiter gasped when their groins came into contact with each other. He could feel Spencer smirk into the kiss as the younger man ground his hips against the Lassiter's.
Lassiter wasn't aware that one of the fake psychic's hands had left his waist until said hand was applying firm pressure against his pant covered hard-on. The detective couldn't help the groan that escaped him. He was absolutely loving the contact but with swift realization he recognized that they were outside in a semi-public place where anyone could come across them. As much as he hated it, he had to stop Spencer before they started doing something that could get them arrested. He tried to push the younger away from him.
"Spencer. Spencer, we have to stop." The younger man had either not heard him or was ignoring him. Lassiter was pretty sure it was the latter. "Spencer. Shawn!" He growled.
Using the other man's first name seemed to do the trick. Well kind of. The younger man stopped trying to kiss him on the lips and instead attacked the tall detective's neck.
"Yeah?" Shawn questioned before placing more open-mouthed kisses on his neck.
Lassiter could feel his pulse pick up and felt his cock twitch. He really didn't want to do it but he needed it stop.
"We can't do this. We are in a public place. Anyone could see us."
"Mmmmm. Not a problem." Shawn said and then returned to kissing his neck.
"Yes. Yes it is a problem. I am the Head Detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department. I can't be arrested for indecent exposure."
"Mmmmmm." Kiss. "Like where you're head is at." Kiss. "Like indecent exposure." Kiss. "But you won't get arrested." Kiss. "No cameras." Kiss. "No one coming outside." Kiss. "Known the guy who owns this place forever." Kiss. "Knew you were going to come here." Kiss. "Owner said he wouldn't let anyone but you out here." Kiss. "Told him about the case." Kiss. "You being upset." Kiss. "Said he understood." Kiss. "All alone out here." Kiss. "No one will see." Kiss. "Just us." Kiss.
He was wholly unprepared for Shawn to drop to his knees right in front of him. Hazel green eyes met his own as Shawn efficiently and competently unbuckled the detective's belt. It took just a few more seconds for the psychic to undo the taller man's fly. Shawn deftly pushed down Lassiter's pants and boxers in one pull. The detective gasped as his cock sprang free and stood proudly in front of the other man's face. Lassiter groaned at the sight of Shawn staring at his hard cock and licking his lips.
"You know, I've dreamed about this. About sucking your cock. Dreamt about making you come inside my mouth and swallowing it all." Shawn said in the most seductive voice that Lassiter had ever heard.
"Please, just do it then," Lassiter practically begged.
Shawn needed no further incentive. In one fluid motion he took Lassiter in his mouth as far as he could.
"Oh fuck!" the detective nearly shouted as he tried hard not to buck into Shawn's mouth.
Shawn stayed still until Lassiter gained control of himself. Then he ran the flat of the tongue up Lassiter's shaft and twirled it around the head. Shawn formed his lips around the head and sucked as hard as he could. He then began to bob up and down Lassiter's shaft without abandon.
Occasionally he would slow his pace. He would press his tongue into the slit with firm pressure. He would then take Lassiter's cock into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat and Shawn's nose was nestled in the soft hairs above his member.
When Lassiter thought it couldn't get any better, he felt Shawn's hands cup his balls. Lassiter couldn't help himself and instinctively bucked into the warm heat of Shawn's mouth. His right hand went down to Shawn's head where gripped onto the brunette's hair. The psychic stilled as Lassiter continued to buck his hips. He fondled Lassiter's balls and pulled at them gently.
Lassiter could feel his release coming. He felt his balls hitch and could feel pressure growing in his spine. He tried to stave off his release as long as he could but within a few moments it got to be too much.
"Shawn. Ugggh! Shawn, I'm coming," Lassiter groaned.
Despite what Shawn had said earlier, he expected the younger man to release the detective's cock from his mouth. Needless to say he was indescribably pleased when instead of being released his cock was entrapped even tighter within the younger man's mouth.
He made an inhuman sound as he came, shooting ribbons of warm seed down the psychic's throat. His knees nearly buckled when Shawn swallowed every last drop and then licked him clean. Shawn gently tucked his now flaccid cock into his boxers and then pulled his pants up. The younger man re-tucked the detective's shirt and redid his fly and buckle. When he was done, Shawn stood up and faced Lassiter with what the taller man could only describe as a smug grin.
In an effort to remove that over-confident smile, Lassiter grabbed the psychic's shirt and pulled him in for a rough kiss. He loved being able to taste himself on the other man. The possessive side of his personality smiled. His smile grew when he felt Shawn's still hard member pressing against his thigh.
He wasn't completely sure what to do seeing as he had never kissed a guy let alone given a hand job. In the end, he decided to do what he knew worked for him.
Without finesse, he unbuttoned the other man's pants and pulled down the zipper. He roughly shoved his hand into the younger man's pants and heard Shawn hiss when his hand came into contact with the psychic's shaft. He should have known the younger man wouldn't wear boxers.
He pulled out the other man's cock and began to stroke it. He rotated his wrist as he gripped and stroked the psychic's cock. Lassiter tried to set a pace but was unable to when he was continually being distracted by Shawn nipping and licking at his neck in between bouts of hot open-mouthed kisses. Their tongues would duel in a competition for dominance in which neither of them won.
It took only a few minutes before he could feel Shawn tense under his hands and warm come was spilled onto his hands and onto both of their clothing. He suddenly had an intense desire to taste the essence of Shawn. He pulled away from the young man's eager mouth and licked his come covered hand.
It tasted salty but had a surprising hint of sweetness that he didn't expect. He continued until his hand was clean. He really couldn't clean off their clothes so he simply pulled his suit jacket closed and buttoned it. Shawn didn't seem to care about his shirt and did nothing to disguise the drops of semen that was on it. Luckily it was a grey t-shirt and it really didn't show that much.
When he looked up Shawn was still smiling. It seemed like nothing Lassiter did could remove it, not that he really wanted to. He loved seeing the younger man so happy, especially when he knew that he was the cause of it.
Shawn quickly tucked himself back into his pants and carefully redid his fly. When he was done, Shawn grabbed Lassiter's hand in his.
"You know, for what I am assuming was your first time with a guy, you handled yourself- ha! -you handled me, pretty well," Shawn smirked.
"Thanks," Lassiter said, feeling pretty proud of himself.
"Well now that we cleared up some of that sexual tension, we should totally go get some smoothies! Or we can go to Shenanigans! Or we can get smoothies! Smoothies!" Shawn exclaimed.
With his hand still in Shawn's, they walked back over to where they had left their stuff. It took just a few minutes to get their stuff packed up. Lassiter thought he should be more nervous than he actually was. He had just had a very pleasurable encounter with a fake psychic who he worked with on an almost daily basis. The psychic was known to be less than reliable and more hyper than a five-year old after eating a whole bag of pixie-sticks. He was wading into completely uncharted waters and for a man that loved routine and control it should have been daunting. But when he looked at the younger man he couldn't help but feel excited rather than nervous.
Lassiter looked from the face of the younger man to his hands which were currently folding up his used paper target and placing it into his bag and then zipping it closed.
"You know, that is actually some impressive shooting," Lassiter complimented.
"Like I said, you can just call me the Lone Ranger," Shawn said quipped.
"Wait, does that make me Tonto?"
"Heck no!" Shawn said in mock outrage. "Gus is Tonto! You are Silver, my noble steed!"
"Why do I have to be the horse?" Lassiter complained.
"Because there is no way I'm riding Tonto!" Shawn cried as he scooped up his bag and jogged away.
It took Lassiter a few moments to get what Shawn had just said but when he did he felt a genuine smile creep onto his face and a chuckle escape. He picked his bag and quickly went to follow after Shawn. It was time to let go, stop hiding his feelings, and get his Ranger a smoothie.
A/N: Yay! New story after more than a year! Woohoo!
Grammar is not my friend, so yeah, just ignore that. Thanks!
If you got any suggestions for another "You Can Call Me ..." story let me know!
Review?