Chapter Text
There was nothing quite like the ‘Honeymoon phase’ in a new relationship, especially when you’ve already been friends with your new lover for so long, as was the case for Sam and Max, freelance police. After a long and boring, not worth writing about, tale of romance and pinning, tears and adventure, and especially love, the two “policemen” have finally come together as a couple and have dove head first into that sweet phase. Not nearly a day after confessing their love for each other, they return home after a riveting but tiring case, one that kept them from being as close as they would have liked to have been with their emotions still running high. They were able to flirt from time to time, however, after years of not having the guts to do so before, and it was enough to put them in a rather, shall we say, cuddly mood as they made their way back into their home/office. As soon as the door was opened, Sam wasted no time scooping Max into his arms, appropriately bridal styled.
“Isn’t it a little soon to be carrying me over the threshold, Samuel?” Max giggled, uncharacteristically affectionate, but still unsurprisingly so. He was the one who started the flirting, in fact, a little more on the physical side. He had been bumping into Sam as they walked, made a point of seeming to get distracted with the material of Sam’s suit and tie, tugging on the latter sometimes to get the dog’s attention and even feigned being thrown into his arms in the middle of a showdown. Being scooped up like this was certainly welcomed.
“I could put you down anytime you’d like,” was what Sam said, but the look in his eyes would make one doubt the truthfulness in his words. All day he seemed to be eager to point out how touchy-feely Max had become and laugh at any excuse that was made for it. His flirting was more on the verbal side as one could guess, seeing that he had an interesting way with words. It was the simple things that got to Max the most, though. There were compliments that he assumed were bottled up for some time, like on his smile and ears, even his tail which made Max quick to question why Sam seemed to be so enthralled by his tail, or rather, the area in which the tail was located, at all. Said questioning was always met with a chuckle and a promise that they’ll talk about it later. “Later” was also a response/promise to a few of Max’s own suggestions of what they could have been doing instead of focusing on the mission that had been at hand. If they were to check their imaginary watches, it happened to be ‘later’ now.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“It’s a darned shame we’ve reached our stop then.” Sam gently sat Max down onto his desk, who pouted up at him before having his vision attacked by a hat being shoved into his face. Max took the offending headwear and put it on his own head, between his ears. He leaned back and his pout was immediately replaced by a large grin when he was met with the sight of Sam rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, with his jacket and tie nowhere in sight, the first couple of buttons undone.
“Usually a man rolling up his sleeves is a sign of hard work soon to come,” Max says while twirling a finger around the end of one of his ears as if it were hair.
“I’d have to agree with you there.” Sam traps Max in between his arms, leaning in close to his face. “Considering all the ideas you gave me earlier, it’s going to be a long, hard night, with a lot of long, hard work.” He punctuates his words with kisses to Max’s neck, who has one hand gripping onto the fur on the back of Sam’s head, and the other on his shoulder.
“Mm- how about a real kiss first? If we’re going to do this on the desk, I’d at least like the illusion of romance first.”
“I thought you hated romance.”
“Just kiss me you big lug.” Sam didn’t need to be told twice. The moment the words had left the rabbit’s mouth, Sam was sending him down into the desk with a kiss that took no time in becoming deeper with every move of their lips. It was their first heated kiss since they became a couple only yesterday, and it seemed like the lack of practice from being each other’s first partner in a long time didn’t slow them down. In fact, it was all the more exciting and passionate. Every unsaid bit of tenderness and affection, every act of devotion that had to stop before it went too far, every look, every lingering touch, and every moment that could have screamed “I love you,” was being poured out into this kiss.
They both needed more.
Max wanted to rip off Sam’s shirt and pants, and Sam wanted to get his clothes off without damaging them. He had just forced Max’s hands into the wood of the desk for the third time when the phone rang. Out of habit, both of them shot up straight, prepared to fight over the honor of answering the phone in hopes of a case from either the commissioner or The Geek. But, before either of them could start their usual chant of “I got it! I got it!”, they locked eyes and took in the sight of each other; they were both disheveled and panting, smiles from the excitement they got from hearing the phone ring sliding slowly off of their faces as they stared into each other’s eyes, and still very close together. On the third ring, in nearly perfect sync they crashed back into each other, with Sam this time slamming Max into the desk, breaking off of Max’s lips to pepper his neck in kisses once more, finally unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. The phone continued to ring in the background and brought the terrible pang of justice and responsibility with it.
Max groaned in a mix of annoyance and pleasure. “Maybe whoever it is will get the hint after a couple of hours.”
“And here I thought we’d be holed up in here all week,” Sam teases from his spot just above Max’s pelvis that he had slowly kissed his way down to. Max, who has had his hands mostly confined to the back of Sam’s head, yanked on one of Sam’s ears hard in response to that comment, getting a pained laugh out of him. Sam opened his mouth to say something else witty, but the phone almost seemed to ring louder, giving off the same feeling of a crabby woman in her 40s clearing her throat to get an employee’s attention before opening the gates of hell during an otherwise peaceful day. Sam sighs and looks up apologetically at Max, earning a pat on the head for it. “Let’s hope it’s a telemarketer.”
“Oh, I hope so! Watching you yell over the phone when they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer is such a turn-on.”
“Good to know.” Sam straightens up and leans against the table where their phone continues to screech for attention, eyeing Max who has suddenly found the need to turn his back to Sam and practice his yoga on the desk. The position? Downward dog, of course. Sam has to turn a laugh into a cough when he picks up the phone, feeling his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head. He greets the caller and, for once, deflates at the sound of the commissioner’s voice. This doesn’t deter Max in the slightest, however, because as the commissioner rattles off the details of their next mission, he takes to turning back to Sam and spreading his legs open and relishing in the way Sam drinks in the sight. He rolls his hips at him and very quietly lets out an exaggerated moan.
“Oh, Sam!”
Sam shushes him from his spot in the room, laughing into his hand out of pure embarrassment and still managing to occasionally chime into the phone with a yes, yeah, or uh-huh. Max is just about ready to just pounce on him mid-call when Sam finally slams the phone down back onto the receiver. He walks back over to Max and gently rests his hand on his cheek and, to Max, it's a hopeful sign that they get to continue where they left off. That hope is quickly squashed when that same hand retrieves the hat that had been placed between his ears earlier and returns it the head of its rightful owner.
“Sorry, little buddy. Duty calls.”
Max whines and flops back onto the desk. “Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so. I didn’t take in most of what he said, but the panicked and shrill tone of his voice made it sound urgent. We’ll just have to try and make it quick.” Sam is shrugging his jacket back on, mumbling how he might have heard something about “the fate of the world, or something or another” before pecking a kiss onto Max's forehead.
“Not to be selfish or anything, but does the world really rank above the kinds of noise complaints we were about to get from the neighbors?”
Sam openly laughs this time, shaking his head yet again. “We won’t get those complaints if there’s no world, unfortunately. In fact, we’d better shake a leg so we can get back here before they’re sleeping too soundly!”
That suggestion is all it takes to get Max off of the desk and dragging Sam out of the office.
The freelance police officers are making their way back to their trusty Desoto after what could only be described as another hair-raising adventure that, while exciting for the average Joe, was just another double-shift for the boys, which is rather disappointing considering they had to put what would be the start of a romantic night on pause. The pair lament on this when they reach the car, taking a moment to lean on it together. They had parked on the edge of some wooded area, leaving them completely alone aside from nature and the rubble of their victory over the second villain of the day.
"Man, even the death laser wasn't enough to make up for the trip out here," Max says with a sigh, thoroughly disappointed. The whole time, they were too busy being annoyed to try to enjoy the job, which seemed to drag on to rub salt in the wound of sexual frustration.
"You said it. Let's just be glad it's over and that we can get home and pick up where we left off." Sam goes to open the driver's door, but stops with his hand on the handle when he hears the door besides him, the back passenger door, open instead. He glances over and sees Max crawling onto the backseats with that mischievous grin of his, staring right at him. He drapes across the seats as seductively as he can, and crooks a finger at Sam in that "come hither" fashion through the windows.
"Who said we had to wait ‘til we got home?"
Sam wasted no time joining him in the back seats, not even bothering to try and shut the door behind him and just focusing on getting his tongue into Max's mouth again. It plays out very similarly to earlier in the office, with Sam on top of Max, both of them trying to get his clothes off, Sam starting to kiss down Max's body, etc, etc. This time, to their utter joy, there is no phone to interrupt them.
Sam decides to forget about stripping, growling to himself in frustration after fighting off Max's destructive hands again to preserve his clothing. Instead, he sits up and simply untucks his shirt and starts to almost tear off his belt when Max speaks up from under him.
"Uh-oh, I heard that. Did I make the big, bad doggy angry?"
"You know what, I think you did," Sam growls as he leans into Max's face and grabs his wrists. He pins his arms down above his head into the seats before continuing, "and I think a cute, little bunny like yourself wouldn't want to be sicced on, would you?"
"I think we both know I would like nothing more."