A/N: This is something that I was working on while my computer was broken and I thought that I would go ahead and post the first part to see where it goes and if you guys have any ideas for ending scenarios
CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING! How it works: The first chapter is the beginning and every other chapter will be a different ending, with either a different couple or theme. Read this first part and then choose where you want the story to go from there. Right now, there is only the original option, but keep checking back for more endings.
P.S. I like to imagine that our bad guy here looks like the smolderingly sexy Jonathon Rhys Meyers, but do whatever works for you :P
-On the Phone-
"Shawn, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what time it is?" Gus complained into the phone while getting out of bed. Just because it was an absurd time of night didn't mean that he wouldn't be by his friend's side at a moment's notice.
"Come on, it's five after three, Gus. I know you can tell time, buddy." Shawn heard his friend sigh as he'd chosen to ignore the hint that it was too late for phone calls. "But I need you, man. I'm about to blow this thing out of the water! I figured it all out and I need your magic head there when I make the big reveal. See you at the warehouse in half an hour?"
"This better be good, Shawn." He hung up the phone to get dressed into clothing acceptable for crime fighting and mystery solving.
Shawn hung up the phone and called the next person he needed there. "Spencer, so help me god, if you are not currently bleeding to death in a ditch, I don't care what you have to say, it's three in the morning."
"Aww, I knew you cared, Lassie! Anyway, I solved the case, meet me at the warehouse in half an hour if you want in on it!" He hung up the phone before the detective could respond.
Shawn took off down the street on his motorcycle, headed for the abandoned building where he knew the last piece of the puzzle was. It had to be there. As he pulled up to a red light an advertisement on a building across the street got his attention. He felt a familiar feeling it his gut, telling him that he was on the wrong track. "It's not at the warehouse… It's at the hotel, crap we were right on top of it all along!"
When he realized his mistake, he turned his bike around and made his way to a different building. He parked off to the side and started to check the building out. He listened carefully as he walked down the stairs on the outside of the building. The side entrance to the basement was most likely the easiest point of access in a recently shut down building like this. He learned that from his father, but he would never admit it. He didn't want to leave the site to call Gus, so he kept walking and sent him a text with the new address and instructions to relay the message to Lassiter and Juliet. He didn't notice when the text failed to go through because of a lost signal.
He couldn't help but snoop around a little before everyone else showed up. He did need a nice stage for the show, after all. He made his way up to the third floor where the murders last week had taken place. It being a fairly small family-run bed and breakfast, the incident had completely shut down the business. Once the investigation was closed, he was sure the family would sell the building and move on.
He stopped, hearing a creaking noise from down the hall. He tip-toed down, pressed against the wall, determined to be invisible. He waited outside of the door, listening for more movement. When none came, he turned the knob and slithered in, still hugging the wall. He looked around the room, the only light coming from the street lamps outside.
He stopped as he heard a familiar click from his left and the lamp came on. He slowly looked over to see a man an a suit standing against the bedside table, pointing a gun at him. He wasn't wearing the kind of suit that Lassie wore, but the kind of suit that simply stated 'Yes, I am too good for you. Keep walking.'
Shawn shrugged off his surprise and turned slowly. "Mickey T! Didn't expect to see you here…"
"Mr. Spencer. I've told you before not to call me that, haven't I?" Words slipped from his lips like silk, sending a chill down Shawn's spine. He'd always had a thing for bad guys and bad guys with accents were even better. There was something exciting about them that enhanced the experience immensely.
First there was Pierre Despereaux, art thief and international man of leisure. His charm and quiet confidence, along with his ability to seemingly pull off the perfect crime turned Shawn on to no end. The challenge and chase of it all got his blood flowing. It didn't hurt that the man was attractive as well. When he'd learned that the man was a fraud, he lost only a small bit of his appeal and Shawn wasn't too happy to send him to prison, even if it was just a minimum security Canadian prison.
Next, there was J.T. Waring, mob boss wrongly accused of murdering an F.B.I agent. He was a little older, but the man had swagger. Being in prison meant that Shawn never got to act on his lust, but his smooth talking and seductive nature had provided the psychic with a lot of fuel to enjoy himself later. Shawn did have a phenomenal memory, after all.
Last, but not least was Tommy Nix, a street racer with a serious need for speed. He lived his life fast and hard, and Shawn got to experience that first hand. He made Tommy laugh and Tommy made him scream, simple as that. Shawn felt guilty about their encounters when they found out that he killed his friend, but that was in the past and there was no need to dwell. What really upset him was the fact that the man threatened his best friend's life.
Now, there was Seamus McTiernen, an Irish mob boss from Los Angeles. He was young, but there wasn't an Irish man out there that would cross him unless they had a death wish. The man definitely had a reputation, but there was never even a speck of evidence to convict him for anything. On paper, he was an upstanding citizen, in person he was an Irish god. Okay, maybe that's a bit much, but he made Shawn's head spin. The only thing keeping Shawn from making a move was the fact that he had a feeling that Seamus was the one behind the murders in the very room they were standing in. And while he was the sexiest thing that the psychic had ever laid eyes on, that was a line that he wouldn't cross again.
To look at him, he was about the same height as Shawn, but the way he held himself made Shawn feel small. His dark brown hair was short and messy, his lips were full and always wore a Cheshire smile. His eyes were the coldest grey he'd ever seen and even pointing a gun at Shawn, he was still smiling and Shawn still wanted him. Maybe especially because of the gun.
Shawn also had to admit that he had a bit of a kink for guns. He spent a lot of time around them as a young boy and always found them fascinating. He didn't enjoy using them so much himself, but they were a nice, masculine accessory that mixed well with the bad boys he was into.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Seamus coughed, smiling when their eyes met. He hadn't missed Shawn's obvious attraction now or in the past when they'd met. He had barely been a person of interest since the beginning and Shawn was the only one that had any clue what part he played in the whole ordeal, harassing him several times more than the police.
"Why are you here?" He stepped closer to Shawn, who walked sideways against the wall to keep their distance.
"You know, I just needed to get away for a while, this nice B&B seemed like a good idea." Shawn hit the corner with nowhere else to go as the man kept walking toward him.
"You know I don't like the run-around, Mr. Spencer." He held the gun by his side, ready to use it, no doubt, but not feeling the need to aim it.
"What? This place it pretty nice if you can look past the blood stains. Though there's no free breakfast…" Shawn was cut off as Seamus took a swift step forward and put his hand on the psychic's throat. He brought the gun up to Shawn's left cheek and looked him right in the eyes, his playful smile gone momentarily.
"I would advise you not to play with me." Their noses touched and it sparked something in Shawn.
"I came here to bust you. I know everything that happened and I have enough to put you away for a very long time." He felt empowered when Seamus looked mildly shocked, like he couldn't have been caught. "My backup will be here any minute, so I would put that gun away if I were you."
Seamus looked mildly annoyed, but regained his cool quickly. He left his gun in place and moved his hand down to Shawn's pants. The psychic jerked and started to pull back when the mobster pulled his phone from his front pocket.
He clicked a few buttons and smiled before showing Shawn the screen. Shawn gulped when he saw the little 'x' over the mail icon for the message he sent to Gus. "I had some of my own phone trouble earlier. These old buildings…" And the Cheshire smile was back.
A million thoughts raced through Shawn's mind, most consisting on 'oh shit' and thinking of ways to weasel out of the predicament he'd gotten himself into. He came up blank, but improvising always was his strong suit. He'd manage.
Seamus turned the phone off and slid it into his jacket pocket, returning his hand to Shawn's neck, this time less forcefully. "You know, Mr. Spencer, I like you." He laughed before moving the gun closer, digging it into Shawn's skin. "But I will kill you." Like he hadn't heard that one before…
Shawn took a breath and closed his eyes, truly worried that he couldn't talk his way out of this mess. He decided that for once, keeping quiet was his best option.
Seamus pulled his gun away and used it to push Shawn to the side, landing him on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over. Luckily, the previous residents of the room had been killed in the bathroom and on the floor by the door, not the bed.
Again, Shawn went to pull away when the man bent down, leaning over him. He grabbed the psychic's wrist and before he could react, he was cuffed to the barred headboard. He mentally smacked himself for not putting up more resistance, but when McTiernen was so close, hovering above him, Shawn could barely think, much less move.
He watched the man move over to a painting on the wall, removing it. He flipped it over and tore the back off, pulling out a small piece of paper. He put the paper in his suit's inner pocket and turned to face the door.
Spencer sat in his spot cautiously, ready to do his best bullet dodging dance if he needed to, hoping it didn't come to that. He thought he was in the clear, when the mob boss turned around and stared at him, smile widening.
"You know, you have fascinated me, Mr. Spencer. I don't know how exactly you've figured everything out." He licked his lips, stepping closer. "But it is… Impressive."
"Uh, thanks, I guess. Any time." Shawn looked confused, why didn't he just leave already. He would have plenty of a head start, the police would never catch him. "Well, not really any time. I promise won't dig in your business anymore, scout's honor." He held up three fingers on his non-cuffed hand, Eagle Scout style.
McTiernen chuckled, more amused than angry now, knowing that he had the upper hand and would get away did wonders for his mood. He stepped up, directly in front of Shawn. "I truly do like you, Mr. Spencer. You… Intrigue me." He slipped one of his knees between Shawn's legs and looked down.
Shawn looked up, heart racing as the man moved closer to him, implying what he thought he was implying. "What are you doing?" He scooted back on the bed, as far as the cuff let him go.
"I think you know what I'm doing." He kneeled on the bed, hovering over Spencer again, this time reaching for his belt.
Shawn jerked back, pulling his wrist as hard as he could. "Don't touch me!" He shouted, trying to fend off the hands with only one of his own to use. It was a losing battle and it wasn't long before Seamus had his only free hand pinned.
"Mr. Spencer, why are you fighting me?" With Shawn completely immobile, he moved his other hand to caress the psychic's thigh.
Shawn's breath hitched, knowing that he shouldn't like what he was feeling. "Because you're a murderer. You're scum, Seamus." Shawn knew he was pushing his luck, but if he didn't get the man off of him soon, there would be no argument left in him.
"That, I am. Doesn't mean you don't want me." He moved his hand to the front on Shawn's pants and pressed down, leaning his entire body in. Shawn couldn't help but gasp. He kicked his legs, trying to get some leverage, but in their current position, all he was doing was shaking them about while cursing.
"That's right, Mr. Spencer, kick and scream!" He leaned his lips against Shawn's ear, teeth scraping his skin as he stilled, out of breath. "Oh, how I want to hear you scream…"
Shawn had nothing to say, he knew that he was trapped and there was nothing he could do about it. He was going to give in to a murderer's touch and he was going to enjoy it.
Seamus took Shawn's stillness as a white flag and ground himself against the trapped man. Spencer stayed silent, trying his hardest to not move. After a few more movements eliciting no response from the body underneath him, he became frustrated. He liked it when Shawn resisted him.
"Fine, Mr. Spencer. You want to push me?" He pulled away from Shawn, aimed and pulled his trigger. After a moment of silence following the shot, he leaned down to Shawn's ear and whispered. "Do you know what happens when I don't get what I want, Mr. Spencer?"
Shawn's eyes popped open after the shot was fired, looking to his left. Seamus had shot into the pillow right next to him. The sound was muffled to some extent, but his ears still rang. He nodded, sure that the next shot wouldn't miss its target.
"Good." Grey eyes stared at Shawn as he placed the gun against his temple. "If it will make you feel better, you can fight back and pretend you don't want it." He smirked as Shawn huffed.
"Take your clothes off." He ordered and Shawn refused. He pressed his gun more firmly against Shawn's head, just to remind him that it was there.
Their eyes locked and Shawn slid his hand down his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly, only able to use one hand. As the buttons came undone, Seamus pulled the gun away and began to follow Shawn's movements with it, running it up his chest.
Shawn's breath caught in his throat. The cold metal against his skin sent shivers down his spine. The barrel made its way to both sides, opening his shirt completely. With his chest bared, the Irish man ran the length of the weapon across his victim's bare nipple, eliciting a soft moan. It stiffened quickly against the cold metal and he smirked.
"I see I've found something you like, Mr. Spencer." He moved the firearm away from Shawn's sensitive chest and pressed it between his legs. He roughly ran the barrel along Shawn's tightening pants, causing him to squirm.
Seamus took Shawn's distractedness as a chance to reach down and unzip his own pants, caressing himself in the process. The noise he made in Shawn's ear was almost a growl, reverberating against his skin.
- TBC -
A/N: Originally, I wanted just some smut with Shawn having a thing for guns and bad boys, but then I remembered how much I love Shawn and Lassie and Lassie has a gun... I couldn't decide how to end the story, so I decided not to only end it one way.
Here are the upcoming ending options, the ones in bold are the ones that have been uploaded already. The first ending will be uploaded soon, probably in the next couple of days. Submit endings you'd like to see! I'd love to have some more ideas for future chapters if you have any.
Option 1/Chapter 2: Lassie/Shawn - Lassie rescues Shawn, who is distraught over having been molested (and liking it) by Seamus, and comforts him.
Option 2/Chapter 3: Seamus/Shawn - Lassie doesn't show up and Seamus has his way with Shawn, who reluctantly enjoys it.
Option 3/Chapter 4: Lassie/Shawn - Est. Relationship, Lassiter rescues Shawn, but is angry that Shawn looked to be enjoying himself and decides to pick up where Seamus left off, handcuffs, gun and badboy demeanor included. Not cuddly like Option 1.