Lassiter opened the door to the restaurant and let Shawn step inside first, using the gesture as an excuse to glance around. The poor impression the place had given him from the outside was indeed confirmed. The smell of stale beer and greasy food… Floors sticky enough to pull the soles of your shoes… Definitely not the kind of establishment the detective would ever willingly step foot in. However, he tried to keep his expression neutral and followed Spencer as he walked up to the attendant at the reception desk and gave his name. The waiter barely looked at 'em, just nodding his head while grabbing a couple of laminated menus. Carlton grimaced at the sight of fingerprints smudged on the glossy surface. Don't touch anything unnecessary, he thought to himself, just as the psychic turned back to check on him with a radiant smile. Lassiter forced himself to smile back.
The waiter led 'em through the crowded dining area, and Carlton couldn't help but take note of his surroundings, such as suspiciously sticky residues on the edges of a few tables as they passed, or the faint layer of grime coating the dark wooden panels on the walls. Was that the place Shawn had picked for their date? He couldn't understand how the establishment hadn't been shut down yet for its lack of cleanliness… Their booth was in the far corner of the restaurant, slightly separated from the rest of the dining area. The dim lighting gave the seating an almost intimate feel, though it also conveniently masked any dirt or stains that might have been lurking on the table.
"Here you are" The waiter announced, slapping the menus onto the counter with a dull thud before walking off without another word. Lassiter shook his head, bemused, as the psychic slid into the booth first, choosing the side that faced the rest of the bustling pub.
"Come on, Lassie. I don't bite… much" Spencer said, patting the seat beside him with an inviting grin. Carlton hesitated for the briefest moment, his eyes flicking to the seat across the table before taking his place next to Shawn, his movements measured but a little clumsy.
"Looks… nice" Lassiter lied stiffly, adjusting his tie out of habit. He wasn't used to this kind of unfamiliar intimacy. The space seemed smaller with 'em sitting side by side, their shoulders brushing with every slight movement. And the filth of the restaurant didn't help him, either.
"You're going to love their loaded fries. They're like a religious experience" Spencer stated enthusiastically, flipping open the menu and scanning it with genuine excitement. He seemed unfazed by the lack of hygiene or the furniture sticking to their pants. Carlton bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from commenting. Was this the best Shawn could come up with? Seriously? Then, the memory of the night he had personally arranged resurfaced and reminded him of the disaster that had unfolded. Who was he to judge? Lassiter let out a deep exhale, a trace of resignation in his eyes. Spencer caught the gesture and reached over, resting his hand lightly on the detective's.
"I'm fine, Shawn" Carlton retorted, pulling his hand away in an abrupt manner as he noticed the attendant returning. The psychic's smile faltered, clearly hurt. It was obvious Lassiter wasn't fine.
"What's good for you? Want a drink to start with?" The waiter asked, pulling a small notepad from his pocket and a pen from behind his ear. Carlton made a face of barely concealed disgust. Was this person really going to handle his food? His deep scowl turned into wide-eyed surprise as he felt Spencer's hand land on his thigh under the table, sliding dangerously close to his crotch.
"We'll take two beers to begin. Then we'll order, thanks" Shawn said nonchalantly, his voice smooth as if he weren't actually groping someone. The attendant took note and stepped away. Once he was far enough, the detective wasted no time reaching down and grasping Spencer's wrist.
"W-what was this?" Lassiter complained, pulling the psychic's hand away and letting it fall back into his lap. He flushed, clearly embarrassed by that inappropriate behavior. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Spencer, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his heart racing.
"You know, no one will notice if you just enjoy it quietly..." Shawn joked, after a brief silence, the tone of his voice making the detective's cock throb at the thought. He quickly shook it off, though.
"It's not gonna happen, Spencer. Not in public, not here-" Carlton insisted, interrupting as the waiter appeared with their beers.
"What are you having?" The attendant asked, setting the two bottles down in front of 'em. Lassiter picked up the menu, forgetting about its dirty surface, and took a quick look as he realized he hadn't decided yet, which made the waiter huff in annoyance.
"I'll have a vegetarian burger with ketchup, no mayo, and, of course, a side of loaded fries" Shawn said, already prepared, handing his menu to the attendant. Both their eyes then shifted to the detective, who was still flipping through the pages, undecided. Nothing on the list was inspiring. The pictures were poor quality, and the combinations of ingredients were too strange for his taste. There, amid of his frustration, an intrusive hand returned to his crotch. Carlton flinched, almost leaping out of his seat. He soon noticed the waiter looking at him with a confused expression and quickly masked a smile, shifting in his chair to move Spencer's palm. Unfortunately, the movement only caused him to cup his clothed length. His mind went completely blank.
"I-I'll have the same as him" Lassiter stammered eventually, his voice squeaking a little as the psychic gave him a gentle squeeze as he spoke. The waiter wrote down the order on his pad and reached for the last menu, shooting him a glare before walking away. A laugh escaped Shawn once they were by themselves, his fingers creeping up to his pants button. Carlton grabbed his wrist again, attempting to stop him. This time, however, Spencer twisted his hand out of his grasp and managed to pop the fastener.
"Don't fight it, Lassie, or they'll find out. Do you want to get caught?" Shawn whispered, slowly pulling down the zipper and slipping his digits inside. The light brushing through the fabric made the detective hiss. It had been so long since anybody had touched him… That felt good. He stopped struggling and gave in to the teasing as the fingers rubbed him to full hardness, an eager tent forming in his boxers.
"Spencer…" Carlton sighed, holding back his own moans. The psychic smirked, he didn't need more. He dipped his digits beneath the waistband and wrapped 'em around the rigid shaft. The contact drew a gasp from Lassiter. He could hardly believe it… He was, indeed, getting a handjob under the table.
"Be careful, don't make any noise" Shawn warned as he freed the detective's dick from the confines of his pants and boxers. The straining length twitched, exposed to the cold air of the restaurant. It was quite a tool. At 8 inches and as thick as a can of coke, it felt heavy in his palm. Spencer began to jerk him leisurely, not wanting to rush things, applying more pressure bit by bit. His eyes never left the other man, studying his face as he occasionally gave a little twirl with his palm or swirled his thumb around the swollen glans, spreading the precum oozing out.
"F-fuck, Shawn…" Carlton squirmed, hands clutching at the edge of the table, unable to contain. He was entirely at the mercy of his own pleasure. The psychic sped up, with a devilish grin. His strokes became long and firm, sliding down to the base before gliding back to the top. No inch of skin was ignored, making slick sounds perfectly audible. If anyone had leaned too far and looked under the table, they'd have seen everything, the flex of his bicep an obvious sign. Luckily, their booth was secluded, in the back of the dining.
More precum dripped out and was used to facilitate smoother movements, just like lubricant. Lassiter whimpered between clenched teeth, his body moving in response by nudging his hips upward into the other man's hand with small, deliberate shudders. At this point, it was no longer Spencer masturbating him but the detective fucking his fist, which he didn't mind at all. He enjoyed gliding his finger across the sensitive slit or tightening his hold on the shaft as Carlton pushed up the best he could, biting his bottom lip not to moan. He had forgotten where he was, about the possibility of being caught and the awareness that he wasn't the first to get some on that filthy seat. He was close… Overwhelmed, he turned his head toward Shawn and nuzzled it into his shoulder.
"I got you, babe…" Spencer reassured, taking the napkin from his place with his free hand and discreetly sliding it under the table. With short, shallow breaths, Lassiter rutted his hips into the closed fist a few more times and finally came. The psychic was ready to drop the cloth over his dick and catch his release. It was a big load. 9 jets of hot, thick jizz soaked the thin fabric and seeped through, making his digits slick. He made sure the spasms had ceased and the spurting had stopped before removing the napkin.
The detective panted, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. Meanwhile, Shawn took care of everything, from cleaning him up to tucking his spent cock back into his clothes. Then, he waited patiently, giving the other man time to recover. As his climax subsided, Carlton's mind processed what had just happened and he tensed, lifting his head off Spencer's shoulder.
"Th-thank you" Lassiter uttered, unsure of what to say or do. He felt so ashamed of what they had done and of having let himself go which only made him look cuter. Spencer leaned in and pressed a sloppy, warm kiss to his cheek, making him blush even more.
"Hope you're feeling more relaxed now, and especially hungry... Here come our burgers!" Shawn exclaimed, rejoicing as he saw the waiter approaching. Casually, he brought his fingers to his lips and licked the remnants of semen off, frowning at its bitter taste. He knew what to do next...