Yeah, this is shamless PWP. Shassie, which means Shawn/Lassiter. Also, his story contains food porn; as in Shawn has sex with a piece of fruit. Don't like? There's a little red 'x' button in your browser bar that will navigate you away from this page. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, Steve Franks does (the lucky bastard).

"Get on the bed, Spencer."

"You know I've always liked your 'tough and demanding' tone, right, Lassie? It totally suits you. It's remarkable, really, I-"

Lassiter grabbed Spencer by the shirt and dragged him close, effectively cutting him off, his eyes dark and dangerous. "On. The. Bed."

Shawn nodded furiously and literally threw himself down as soon as Lassiter had released him. "What are you gonna do to me, detective?" he asked, his tone going for seductive but bordering on anxious.

The older man smirked, disappearing into the bathroom. "You'd better be naked by the time I get back," he threw over his shoulder.

Knowing what Lassiter would do to him – or, rather, what he wouldn't do to him – if he didn't obey, Shawn quickly shed all of his clothes in a mere fifteen seconds. When he looked up, he saw Lassiter emerging from the bathroom in nothing but his boxer-briefs, and holding-

"Is that a pineapple? What are you gonna do with a pineapple?" The fruit in question was peeled and cored, the remaining meat of it forming a hollow cylinder. As Shawn ran through all of the scenarios through his head that could possibly include a pineapple, Lassiter made his way over to the bed.

"You're going to fuck this pineapple," the detective stated quite simply, setting it down on a plate on the bedside table – and really, how did Shawn miss that little detail?

Shawn nodded slowly, looking between Lassiter and the bright yellow fruit now taunting him from beside the bed. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You, Spencer, are going to fuck this piece of fruit while I watch." He pushed Shawn down into a lying position and then handed him the pineapple. "And then I'm going to fuck you."

"Lassie, I had no idea you had such a kinky side," Shawn teased, mainly because he felt a mixture of turned-on and intimidated and he didn't know which he was scared of more.

"Shut up, Spencer, and get on with it." True to his word, Lassiter sat in the chair in the corner of the room and watched Shawn closely, his eyes never leaving the psychic's.

Shawn swallowed and pulled his eyes away from the detective's, trying to forget that he was still in the room with him, and turned his attention to the fruit in his hands. He loved pineapples, sure, but this was just ridiculous. And how did Lassiter find out about it? He thought he had it pretty much under wraps, unless Lassiter had spied all of the empty pineapple smoothie cups lying around his apartment.

And yeah, that was probably it.

That, and he totally didn't have his love for pineapple under wraps. At all.

So he blinked a few times, turned the pineapple over a few times, trying to figure out how he wanted to go about doing this. He was hard – somehow – although he had a sneaking suspicion that it was his subconscious reminding him that a tall, handsome detective was watching him expectantly from beside the bed; that said tall, handsome detective was going to get off on watching Shawn fuck a piece of fruit.

He decided that the only reasonable way to do this would be just to go for it. Shawn carefully poised the pineapple in one hand while his other, wet with the fruit's juices, closed around his erection and stroked; he sucked in a breath, squeezing hard around the base.

When he deemed himself ready, he released himself and took the pineapple in both hands, lowering it slowly so the tip of his cock was slotted in the hole in the center. He hissed as the soft fruit gave way only so much to let his girth in, the rest of it enveloping his flesh snugly. He heard a muffled sound coming from the chair, but didn't let himself look over at Lassiter.

Shawn finally sheathed his entire length inside the pineapple, shuddering when the coldness of it touched his balls. Slowly, carefully – though he wasn't sure why he was being so careful; it was a piece of fruit, for god's sake – he lifted it up and almost completely off before he pushed it back down; his hips bucked up of their own accord and he moaned lasciviously, repeating the motion three more times in rapid succession. It was nothing like being inside another person, but better, somehow. "Lassie," he breathed, completely unaware of the name slipping from his lips.

Until, that is, the man in question was suddenly on him, pressing hungry kisses against Shawn's mouth, face, and neck; the detective grabbed the pineapple in one hand, sliding it against Shawn's skin quickly as the psychic lifted his hips off of the bed with each stroke. "Lassie, please," Shawn begged, grabbing Lassiter's arms and leaving sticky residue from the pineapple juice.

"Yes," Lassiter groaned through clenched teeth, and he let go of Shawn long enough to push his boxers down and off. He reached into the bedside drawer and took out a bottle of lube, flipped the cap open, and squirted some into his hand; without removing the pineapple from Shawn's person, he turned them onto their sides, fingers coming down to massage around the psychic's entrance.

Shawn gasped and pushed back against the fingers, one slipping inside of him easily. "More," he demanded breathlessly, still stroking his cock with the pineapple. One more finger entered him, followed by another, twisting and scissoring, crooking against his prostate until Shawn was panting. "Please, Lassie. Carlton."

It was the use of his first name that got Lassiter to remove his fingers; he retrieved a condom from the drawer, opened and rolled it on, and was sliding inside of Shawn a few moments later. Shawn squirmed against him, crying out when the tip of Lassiter's cock brushed his already sensitive prostate. Lassiter wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting back in, starting a steady rhythm that had the bed rocking.

Shawn's hands never left the pineapple, letting the slight movements forward and backward from Lassiter's thrusts push and pull him from the fruit; his head lolled onto Lassiter's shoulder, who turned and latched his mouth onto Shawn's earlobe, sucking. "Lassie, please." He was so close. He just wanted to-

He shouted when a couple of Lassiter's fingers slid into the top of the pineapple, brushing over Shawn's hypersensitive tip; Shawn was coming seconds later, his seed coating the inside of the pineapple and the detective's fingertips. Lassiter thrust in a few more times before coming, burying himself to the hilt and biting Shawn's neck none-too-lightly.

They lay on the bed for a few minutes, breathing heavily. Lassiter finally pulled out slowly, Shawn sighing at the sudden empty feeling – he really did hate this part of sex – and throwing the condom into the wastebasket after wrapping it in a tissue. The detective carefully rolled Shawn from his side onto his back. "You okay, Spencer?" he asked, gliding calloused, but gentle, hands down his arms.

"Y-yeah, I think so. I mean, I will be. Just gimme a minute." He slid the defiled pineapple off of his cock, wincing as the cold air in the room hit him. "What kind of acid is in pineapple juice, again? I may have to ask Gus what that could potentially do to me…"

Lassiter smiled softly and threw the pineapple in the garbage as well. "You'll be all right, Spencer. Sleep it off."

"Yeah, okay." He yawned, not even bothering to fight it anymore. "Sleep."

They curled up together, pulling the covers over their spent bodies.

"I'll tell you one thing, though."

"What's that, Spencer?"

"I'll never be able to look at a pineapple the same way again."

One of my friends turned me onto this pairing, and I haven't looked back. Granted, I still love Shus, but there's just something about this pairing that's just right.