The drive to Carlton's house resulted in four almost-accidents because of Carlton's jerky movements and twitching as Shawn leaned way, way over in his seat and panted in Carlton's ear, telling him all kinds of downright filthy things to do to him while he was handcuffed or otherwise incapacitated. All kinds of things they could do in the car, forever staining the dark felt seats so Carlton would never forget how tight Shawn was. All kinds of things Shawn could do with his mouth and more he was willing to learn. All kinds of ways Shawn could bend; how flexible he was. His handle on the steering wheel was too tight—his hands were really starting to hurt, but all he could imagine was relaxing them by spanking Shawn until delighted tears marked the younger man's face in pain, the red blush of hand prints.
When they were finally in the driveway (parked crookedly), Carlton pulled himself out of his precious car and seemed to suddenly appear at the passenger side. He yanked the door open and hauled Shawn out by his forearm roughly enough the psychic let out a small yelp of pain. It was cut off as he was forced down onto the hood while Carlton grinded slowly into his hips.
The neighbors, Carlton, get your shit together! The detective mentally slapped sense into himself, taking a moment to grit his teeth and gain (some level of) patience, and half-dragged Shawn to the front door of the gray house. There was a momentary thought of how confused Shawn must have been, what with shoving him here and slamming him there, only to pull him along to another spot. It didn't matter. He was going to fuck that sweet ass through the floor—or the wall, or the kitchen counter, or the mattress, or wherever they ended up after Carlton was finished actually ripping their clothes off. His cock was hot and tenting the crotch of his pants noticeably; the aroused trepidation on Shawn's face as he stared long and hard at it told Carlton that yes, good sir, the psychic wondered if he would be able to actually handle that long, long length and halfway didn't care. Saying he didn't give a fuck would've been incorrect, of course—it was obvious Shawn was about to give as many fucks as Carlton wanted and his body could stand…and then some.
Carlton's slightly shaking hands drove the key into the lock on the second fumble, and it was only two seconds before the door was thrown open hard enough to bash into the wall and Shawn to be almost literally thrown through the doorway.
If it was rough Carlton wanted, then it was rough Carlton certainly got. Shawn couldn't deny his thrill at being handled so forcefully by the Irishman; his own dick was aching in his jeans that were too tight for any pleasant sort of discomfort.
It was Shawn that pushed Carlton against the wall this time, but it didn't last as Carlton flipped them immediately and grabbed Shawn's ass, lifting him up slightly. Shawn wrapped his legs around the older man tightly while unbuttoning the blue cotton work shirt encasing the chest he wanted to bite. He attached his lips to the sharp angle of the detective's collarbone the moment it was exposed, smirking when he heard a groan. He sank his teeth into the thin skin momentarily, just enough for a little bit of pain, before sliding his smooth lips back up over Carlton's neck and jaw to kiss him again. The older man's tongue was immediately stroking Shawn's in an insistent rhythm that would've made Shawn's cock harder if it wasn't already more rigid than he'd ever experienced. The fact that Carlton's own erection was like titanium and pulsing in his pants was the hottest thing Shawn had experienced in his life (so far!), but that thought quickly disappeared as he felt the cock pressed against him jump eagerly as Shawn wrapped his lips around Carlton's tongue and sucked.
Oh, ye gods, the promising suction of that hot, hot mouth dripping wet and encasing his engorged cock was almost enough to practically rape Shawn right there against the wall, preparation be damned. Carlton wanted that slick tongue, those soft and pouty lips, that intense mouth all over his throbbing hard-on, sucking and licking and moaning and caressing and, yes, slightly gagging as Carlton fucked his throat.
It stood, in his horny mind, as reasonable to pull away from Shawn and force him onto his knees and begin fumbling with the zipper of his pants.
It also stood, in his horny mind, as fucking fantastic that Shawn brushed his hands away impatiently and yanked the zipper and pants down himself before dragging his tongue up the sizeable bulge in the boxer briefs. Carlton grabbed the broad shoulders to steady himself. It'd been too long since he'd been given a blow job, let alone a good one.
Shawn pulled the boxers down eagerly, though he stopped short with wide eyes at the sight of finally seeing Lassie in all his glory. That was… That was at least eight inches. At least. And incredibly thick, twitching slightly at the look on Shawn's face.
Holy. Shit. There was no way he was going to be able to suck him deep down his throat, maybe not even half because of the girth.
…of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. The psychic thrived on a challenge, especially one as sexy as this!
The clear drop of pre-come at the purple-red tip of the older man's cock began to slide leisurely down towards the shaft. Shawn used just the tip of his tongue to lick it up slowly, enjoying the gruff, impatient breath that rushed out of Carlton at the contact.
"Lassie, you are…" Shawn trailed off with a nearly reverential shake of his head. Lassie knew what he was, and he now understood just why his confidence was never really shaken, no matter how badly Shawn embarrassed him. Shawn wasn't small (or even average) either, but there was no one on this green Earth that could've blamed Lassiter if he went around boasting.
A large hand pressed into the back of his head encouragingly. Shawn gazed up at Carlton beneath his lashes with a seductive quirk of his lips, then gave him what he was waiting for; his slick tongue ran up the broad shaft teasingly, circled the head, and finally closed his wet lips before sliding down ever so slightly and sucking gently. The glazed lust in Carlton's piercing eyes spurred the private detective to carefully take more of that massive length into his mouth, illogically proud as he relaxed his throat enough to push the pulsing heat by his gag reflex. Carlton let out a quiet, shaking groan as his hips twitched of their own accord.
Sweet justice help him, his knees actually shook as Shawn moaned, the vibrations humming along his dick and pushing another pleased noise out of his mouth. The blow job was going to have to wait for another time, as wonderful as it was—there was a sweet, tight ass to be ravished thoroughly, a world to be rocked, and a fake psychic to be made screaming his name.