AN: Hello everyone, this is my first story on here. Hope you guys'll like it. I hate to admit it but I love me a bit of Lassie and Shawn whump, I just happen to be a jerk too. On an off note, I adore Lassie and Shawn.
This story has sensitive material that may be triggering to some people so please be cautious. This story is high T rating but nothing too detailed, only alluded to.
Also, I don't have internet so I'll update when I can.
I don't own any characters or places found in Psych. I don't own Psych. this story takes place sometime in season 7, after the wedding but before Trout.
Grasping for Control
Prologue
Slender fingertips drummed atop of a hardwood desk. Juliet O'Hara's eyes felt wet as she tried desperately to focus on her paper work. She bit her lip as her gaze drifted over to look at her partner.
More tears streamed down her cheeks with each thrust of the man's hips. She cried out in muffled protest, begging him to stop behind her gag.
She felt the bile rise up in her throat. She watched Lassiter slowly, painfully, limp towards his desk. The man's attempt to keep working was agonizing to look at with the knowledge of his pain ringing in her mind.
A sob caught in her throat as a grunt of discomfort escaped her partner. She bit against the cloth gag, ignoring where it ate into the corners of her mouth. She had to help him!
She quickly shut her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened to make themselves known. Guilt welled in her chest, eating at her insides, knowing she was the cause of his pain. She felt like gagging as she heard him curse softly as it was followed by the sound of case files falling to the floor. The event only made worse by his grunt of pain as he knelt to pick them up.
Her captors cut her bonds, she rushed forward on the dirty ground. She skidded to a halt on her knees, landing next to her dazed partner. She tenderly pulled him close, careful of his damaged ribs. She cooed weakly too him, pressing her nose to his short sweat-slicked hair. She felt nausea boil in her stomach as a familiar and normally welcome smell mixed with sweat and his natural masculine scent.
"Oh, Carlton… P-please, f-forgive me…."
She quickly pushed her chair away from her desk, springing to her feet. She had to leave, had to get away from him. It just hurt her too much to know it was all her fault.
She swallowed hard and looked at her watch, it was almost noon. She nodded and rushed for the door. She would grab some lunch for her and Lassiter, as a sign of apology, so he would not have to get up to eat.