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“What the hell?”
“Problem?” huffed Riggs.
“You’re already...ready.”
They had ducked into Riggs’ trailer for a quickie while their current case was at a standstill until evidence was analyzed. Riggs was pantsless and sprawled on the couch and looked wild as ever with Murtaugh between his legs fully dressed with an unzipped fly.
“Yep, handled it this morning since you’re always complaining about how it’s risky to go too far on duty, so I decided might as well get myself ready in the morning because I’m thoughtful like that.”
“So you just got ready like you were putting your pants on or something?”
“Basically. Right before I came over to your house for breakfast.”
“You crazy son of a bitch.”
There was new fervor in Murtaugh’s movements as he hooked Martin legs around his waist and pressed in, though it was still a bit too careful in comparison to how well Riggs was prepared.
“Finally!”
“Shut up!”
“Now we both know you don’t mean that-ah!”
Murtaugh started a good rhythm while Riggs made a pretty picture with that wild hair and not a lick of shame.
“Tell me how you did it.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me how you did it” Murtagh practically growled. “Did you wake right up and do it? Did you plan it the night before?”
Riggs grinned even has he was jostled by a thrust.
“Would you believe that I did it during the call?”
Murtaugh stopped and looked his partner.
“Really?
“Yeah,” he ran a hand down Murtaugh’s chest; tracing his scar. “I was kinda tight you know. I can’t get it like you do so, I thought what better way to speed the process than hearing your voice. Killing two birds with one-”
Riggs left the sentence unfinished because Murtaugh switched to a brutal pace.
“’Mind having an audience? You can put on show me and Trish. That’d be a pretty sight. Make it a game and see if you could come with that alone.”
There was no mistaking Riggs’ groan. He was so close now; his fingers put scratches upon Murtaugh’s back where previous marks were still healing. Murtagh sucked a bruise into his shoulder while taking care to put it past his collar, but considering how often his partner gets naked that’s probably pointless.
“Rog,” Riggs grabbed at the fabric of his couch “Rog I’m -”
“Go ahead Riggs, I got you.”
Riggs’ vision went white as he came, he covered both their chests and was left wrung out and jellylike upon the sofa. With Riggs’ out of the way Murtaugh could concentrate on his own end. He grabbed Riggs’ hips in a bruising grip and started thrusting with abandon while Riggs laid there and took it. Hearing Riggs’ hitched breath on his every inward thrust is what finished him off and soon he followed his partner and fell on top of him and tried his best not to crush him.
For a few seconds they said nothing. Riggs stroked Murtaugh’s smooth head and didn’t rush to push him off.
“Dammit.”
“What?”
“Didn’t use a condom. Sorry man, got too excited. Let me clean you up; they haven’t called us yet.”
“Oh, I got something that’ll fix the ‘no glove, no love’ rule on the job. Look in the kitchen drawer.”
Murtaugh eyed side eyed him but followed his command after unsticking their bodies and pulling out. He opened the drawer. There was no need to search long because the thing he was sure he was supposed to find was right on a top. A sensible but sizable buttplug. Now, when you’re partnered with Riggs, weird things are always bound to happen, so you don’t go through the mental process and address the usual things. So his brain went right past “you’ve got a butt plug?” to imagining the toy pressing against Riggs at inappropriate times while they worked, but there was one speed bump that refused to go unnoticed.
“Buttplugs in the kitchen drawer, really Riggs? And you wonder why I don’t eat here?”