AN: I needed to get some smut out of my system. The ending sucks. Not sure how I feel about the rest. I'm not well versed in the arts of porn. xD


No doubt the table was cold against Spencer's naked chest, but he was sure the guy wasn't going to care about that for much longer. There was a delicious little shudder as he ran his fingertips down the younger man's spine. He had already undone Spencer's jeans and the pants and ridiculous pineapple print boxers where down around his ankles. And with him bent over the table in Interrogation Room B, it was all Lassiter could do to not take him right then and there. Lassiter was going to draw this out as long as possible. He was going to provide that delicious kind of torture. The kind that makes it all the better because every single nerve is hypersensitive.

Lassiter smirked at Spencer's hitched breath as his hand ghosted over his entrance. He leaned over, his own chest bared from his open shirt against Spencer's back. Lassiter bit the curve where his neck and shoulder met, flicking his tongue against his skin, as he slid a lubed up finger into Spencer. The pleasured gasp he was rewarded with sent a delicious chill down his spine. Lassiter wanted to hear more of that. As he continued to kiss and bite Spencer's neck, he slid another finger in, stretching him further. He curled his fingers, having them brush against that spot and Spencer moaned.

"What do you want, Spencer?" Lassiter asked in a hot breath against his neck.

"I want . . . oh, God, Lassie . . . I want you inside me."

Lassiter laughed softly. "But I already am."

This statement was responded with a little growl as Spencer pushed back against him. "No, I want you. I want you to fuck me."

Another kiss and twist, eliciting another moan. "What's the magic word?"


Lassiter blinked. Snickerdoodle? Well, this was Spencer. Of course, he was going to say something crazy. "Works for me." The detective made quick work of his belt and pants that had gotten a wee too tight for his opinion. "You sure you want this?"

"Yes, dammit!"

Lassiter grinned and slid an arm under Spencer's hips, pulling him towards him while easily slipping inside him. Despite trying so very hard not to, Lassiter let out a moan feeling Spencer around him. Hands on Spencer's hips, Lassiter pulled out slightly before thrusting, hitting that bundle of nerves and making Spencer gasp. He continued his movements, responding to Spencer's panted requests of harder and faster. He knew Spencer was close. Just a few more and he'd have the younger man screaming.

And then a hand passed in front of his face.

Lassiter yelped and flailed, falling out of his chair and right onto his ass. From his position on the floor, he glared up at O'Hara. "What?"

"I've been saying your name for the last five minutes, Carlton." The blonde, hands fisted on her hips, glared at him. Then her eyes flicked down to Lassiter's lap and she blinked at him. "Who were you having daydream sex with?"

Lassiter was about to deny the accusation. However, he was unable to do so because his name was called out in a sing-song voice. He could feel his face flush and O'Hara stared at him, eyes wide as she no doubt figured it out. Lassiter was unprepared for her grin.

"If it ever happens, I want pictures. And I want details about today's later."

He stared at her. That . . . was not expected. But he didn't get to think on it anymore because Spencer decided to make his appearance.

"Hey, Lassifrass! Why are you on the floor?"

Lassiter just looked at him. Besides, it wasn't like he could tell him he currently had a hard on for the guy at the moment.


AN: Soooo . . . how did I do?