Title: Losing My Mind: a fic in five parts (V. The Sun Comes Up)

Author: Jane Westin

Pairing: Shawn/Carlton

Rating: NC17

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine.

Notes: This is my warm-up (ie, first time writing slash, first time writing Psych fics). Please forgive the lack of plot; I had to get used to the characters before I could think about giving them a murder to solve. I think I know them well enough to put in a little more storyline next time. Thank you for reading!

It's nice to see that sometimes questions get answered, after all.

Carlton is just starting to wonder what's going on when Spencer abruptly lands in his lap. He sees Spencer's lips part for a fraction of a second, and Spencer is kissing him.

Carlton takes a moment to reflect that this is a rather nice surprise, and then he kisses Spencer back.

And oh, now he understands why Victoria couldn't stay with him. Because this is what kissing is supposed to be like and has never been before. Heat and electricity; he's shaking, alive, everything feels real for the first time in his life. His chest is tight and his head is whirling and he wants Spencer.

He exhales hard when Spencer pulls away. Keeps his eyes closed because this might never happen again, Spencer against his lips, between his hands. "Spencer," he says, sighs it really, because he can't believe what's happening and is already mourning its loss. This has to be a mistake.

Spencer makes some smartass remark, as usual, and Carlton opens his eyes because he's afraid he's going to regret this after all, but the look on Spencer's face stops him from getting embarrassed or angry.

"Was that weird?" Trepidation, almost fear, as Spencer hauls himself off Carlton's lap and drops heavily on to the couch.

A reasonable question, and because Spencer is afraid its's okay that Carlton is too.

"Do you want it to be weird?" Carlton replies. He's not sure what he means by that, but Spencer exhales when he says it, and the muscles of his leg relax under Carlton's hand.

"No, I liked it," Spencer says immediately, and Carlton feels a rush of relief.

"Me too," he admits, and he's sure he'll hear about this later, sure that Spencer will throw it in his face, but it's worth it, for now.

Jurassic Park. Carlton thinks it's an odd choice for a first date - because he's pretty sure that's what this is, now - but Spencer likes dinosaurs and it's fine even though Carlton thinks anything that isn't a historical documentary is a waste of time. And actually it's nice, it's really really really nice, having Spencer next to him. Spencer is warm and solid and he seems to think that he's a kitten or something, because he keeps scooting closer and closer to Carlton until he's almost in Carlton's lap. Eventually Carlton puts an arm around his shoulders, and when he does, Spencer makes a little noise that's almost a purr and snuggles even closer.

"Laaaassie," he sighs.

That kind of does it.

Carlton takes his arm off Spencer's shoulders, pushes Spencer up and away. Before Spencer can form any words to match his expression of sudden disappointment, Carlton takes him by the arms.

"Do you have an actual bed in this weird apartment?" he growls.

Spencer's eyes widen. He opens his mouth and squeaks. Finally: "I have a bed," he says, barely a whisper.

"Well." Carlton leans forward, grazes his lips across Spencer's. "Let's find it," he murmurs.

Spencer is standing almost as soon as the words are out of Carlton's mouth and he has Carlton's hand in his.

"Right this way, sir," he says.

He leads Carlton back through a little hallway and opens the door, and Carlton is surprised. He'd expected Spencer's bedroom to be cluttered and messy, a slacker's hovel, but the bed is made and there are books neatly stacked on the shelves and there is almost nothing on the walls.

Carlton takes Spencer by the shoulders, spins him around, and kisses him hard. Pushes him backwards, one slow step at a time, until Spencer's calves are against the bed. One little push and Spencer is timbering backward, hitting the bed, pulling Carlton down with him.

Spencer pulls his lips away from Carlton's long enough to gasp, "Lassie."

The moment Spencer's lips left his, Carlton began trailing them along Spencer's neck, and he doesn't stop even as he replies "What?"

"Are you..." Spencer sucks air. "...totally sure about this?"

Carlton pulls away, on all fours over Spencer, and looks him straight in the eye. "Don't insult my judgment, Spencer," he warns. He reaches down with his right hand and curls his fingers firmly around the bulge in Spencer's jeans, shuddering when he hears Spencer's moan-more of a shout, really-of surprise.

"Never again, Lassie," Spencer promises, and his voice is shaking.

Carlton pushes himself up, kneeling over Spencer, and starts to unbutton his shirt. When Spencer starts to sit up, reaching for Carlton, Carlton bats his hands away and gently pushes him back down.

"Wait," he says.

Slow coil of heat in Carlton's lower stomach: Spencer wants him. He never thought Spencer would look at him like that.

Carlton unbuttons the last button. Shrugs out of his shirt. Tosses it into the corner of Spencer's room. He turns his attention to his belt, and hisses quietly when Spencer's hands firmly take his wrists.

"Let me," Spencer says, and Carlton lets him.

Careful, deliberate, not at all like the flailing lunatic he usually is. Spencer's fingers are deft and clever, unbuckling Carlton's belt and unbuttoning his pants in one swift movement. The coil tightens in Carlton's stomach; he thinks he has never been this hard in his life. He sways when he feels Spencer's hands flatten against his sides and slide down, tucking beneath the waistband of his boxers, his thumbs meeting just above Carlton's pubic bone.

Spencer slides him out of the boxers and a split-second later, his hand is around Carlton's erection. Carlton sees stars, has to put one hand out to steady himself against the headboard. His chest is tight and his breath is coming in gasps.

"Spencer. Jesus." As Spencer's hand starts to move.

His eyes refocus. Spencer's eyes are hypnotizing: pupils dilated, glints of gold flashing in the blue-grey at the periphery of his irises. Spencer's hand is moving, but his eyes are on Carlton's face. Hungry. For Carlton.

Suddenly a smile, brilliant, dazzling.

"Lassie," Spencer says, and his voice is shockingly steady, shockingly real. "You are so hot."

Carlton has enough time to take a breath, he intends to reply, but then Spencer's mouth descends onto him (oh dear lord) and steals any words he might have tried to form. Hot and wet, lips tight, tongue moving artfully, and oh sweet Justice it feels good. There is a rush of cold air on his wet skin and Carlton groans as Spencer pulls back, don't stop don't stop, only for a moment before he feels Spencer's hand release and fall away and abruptly Spencer is taking him deep, so deep, that Carlton can only tremble and gasp and try to stay upright. Spencer's hands are on his hips now, keeping Carlton steady, keeping Carlton close.

Carlton lets his free hand fall to Spencer's head, not grasping, not demanding. He focuses on keeping it relaxed even though he wants nothing more than to curl his fingers into the thick waves of Spencer's hair. He tries to hold off, tries to make it last, but it feels too good and it's been too long and soon enough he is shaking, shuddering, and Spencer is swallowing and coughing and finally, as Carlton starts to soften, pulling away.

Carlton lets himself fall forward, breathing hard, lands on his hands and knees. He rolls off Spencer, puts his head on Spencer's shoulder, his mouth against Spencer's neck.

"Jesus, Spencer," he says again.

"I prefer just Spencer," Spencer replies, "although I'm glad you can admit that what I just did was pretty miraculous." His arms come up and encircle Carlton, hands moving gently over Carlton's shoulders and back.

"Just shut up, Shawn," Carlton kisses Spencer directly on the mouth, tasting himself on Spencer, feeling Spencer stiffen in surprise beneath him.

"'Kay," he murmurs against Carlton's mouth.

It takes a few minutes, but by the time Spencer starts to deepen his kisses, starts to moan and writhe against him, Carlton is almost fully recovered. He lets his hand travel over Spencer's T-shirt, under it, across the warm, firm planes of Spencer's skin. He stops briefly, fingers splayed across Spencer's stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath him, feeling Spencer's deep, shaky breaths. Feeling the pulse beating against his palm. Feeling everything.

"Take this off," he growls into Spencer's ear, and immediately Spencer is sitting up, stripping the shirt off and away, reaching up for Carlton's face and drawing him close.

"These too," Carlton adds, plucking at Spencer's jeans, and Spencer obeys. He stops kissing Carlton long enough to smirk.

"What else would you like me to do, Detective?" Playful eyes. That tone he always uses when he's trying to get under Carlton's skin.

Had he wanted Carlton that whole time?

Carlton doesn't reply, just props himself on his elbow and looks at Spencer. Lets his eyes move slowly, slowly over Spencer's body. Strong shoulders and chest, although it doesn't really look as though he exercises regularly. Smooth, compact stomach, rising and falling a little quicker than normal. Trail of reddish-brown hair from his navel. And his erection, curving up and slightly to the left, twitching just a little with each quavering breath.

Carlton exhales softly. Feels that rush of protectiveness again, because Spencer is here, and he's naked, and he's turned on, and it's because of Carlton.

Spencer shifts a little under Carlton's gaze. "Lassie," he says, trying to catch Carlton's eye. "You okay, man?"

Carlton looks at Spencer, at the little crease of worry on his forehead, the expression of trepidation he's trying to hide.

"Better than okay," he replies, and kisses Spencer hard. He takes a minute to kick off the pants he's still wearing, and his socks, and he rolls on top of Spencer.

He works his way across Spencer's chest and down his stomach, taking his time, lips and fingers and Spencer moaning and panting beneath him. Spencer is running his mouth, stream-of-consciousness chatter he can't seem to quell. "Oh Lassie right there right there Lassie oh better than Saturday morning cartoons Saturday pancakes waffles hot sauce hot hot Lassie oh every time you grab me oh fuck Lassie fuck you're so hot blue eyes I want-" and on and on, until Carlton shuts him up. Wraps his lips around Spencer's cock and "oh fuck Lassie Lassssiiiieeee..." the last word a long exhaled moan and then it's just noises, no words at all. Carlton hasn't done this for a long time, has never been particularly confident about his technique, but Spencer doesn't seem to mind. Carlton breathes through his nose, Spencer smells like soap and skin and sex and he's never smelled anything more appealing in his life.

For all the babbling a few minutes ago, Spencer is surprisingly quiet when he comes, and if it isn't for Spencer's fingers biting into his shoulders hard enough to hurt, or the fact that he shakes so hard the headboard thumps against the wall, Carlton would be disappointed with himself. For a moment all Carlton can hear is Spencer's strangled breathing. Then "Lassie," in a hoarse whisper, as Spencer reaches down for Carlton with fumbling fingers.

Carlton wipes his mouth on the sheets and crawls up next to Spencer. Spencer's face is flushed, his eyes half-lidded. His mouth is open and he's breathing long and deep and hard. He clutches at Carlton but doesn't look at him; his gaze stays fixed on the ceiling. He stays like that for so long Carlton starts to wonder if he's all right.

Finally he blinks. Speaks. "That was-" he says, and pauses. Takes a breath. "Wow, Lassie. That was incredible."

Carlton suppresses the little wave of pride that surges at Spencer's words. "Hm," he says noncommittally.

"I'm not kidding, Lassie." Spencer's gaze swings to Carlton. "That was phenomenal. You are a wildcat. You are a jaguar. You are too sexy for your shirt."

Carlton raises his eyebrows. "You never stop, do you?"

Spencer's expression goes oddly blank and he takes a moment before he replies. "Is that a problem?" he asks evenly.

Carlton looks at him carefully. That worry-line has appeared again and it's almost cute, how anxious Spencer has suddenly become. It's not all smoke and mirrors and smooth-talking. There's a human under there after all.

He lets Spencer squirm for a minute, just because it's so deliciously satisfying, and then says, "Spencer. Shawn."

Spencer relaxes, just a little, at the use of his first name.

Carlton reaches for Spencer's hand, gives it a little squeeze. "If you think I'd be here with you now if it was, you really are an idiot."

At that, Spencer lets out a long breath. His smile is radiant.