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"How's Starsky doing?" Dobey asked a week later.
Hutch grinned broadly from where he sat in his superior's office. "He seems okay now. I mean, really okay. You know, he's got an appointment with the Department's physician tomorrow."
"Yes," Dobey smiled. "That's good to hear."
"He'll pass everything with flying colors," Hutch said with affection. Neither he nor Starsky had any doubts.
"Glad to hear everything is working out, son."
Hutch stood. "So am I." He indicated the file Dobey had given him. "I'll get Records going on this."
"Keep me updated."
"Right." Hutch left Dobey's office and continued out the squadroom. As he headed for Records, he sighed, aware of what he hadn't told Dobey. What he could never tell anyone.
The good news was that Starsky seemed truly okay after their little sexual interlude. The bad news was that his partner didn't seem particularly interested in talking about it.
Starsky's reticence didn't seem to have anything to do with intimacy. After getting the rage out of his system, he seemed to be the same toward Hutch as he'd always been - warm, concerned, affectionate, playful. But any conversation Hutch tried to start about their feelings for each other all seemed to go the same way....
"Why don't you ever want to talk about it?" Hutch had finally asked outright.
Starsky had shrugged casually. "We can talk about it. I just don't see why we have to do anything about it right now."
"But...," Hutch couldn't hide his hopefulness, "... you do want to do something about it... eventually?"
Another shrug. "Maybe. Someday. It's just not in the cards right now, Hutch."
Hutch wanted to demand why and when, but that would be blatantly pushing the issue. He couldn't blame his partner for being hesitant after the harshness of their first time. And since Starsky obviously wasn't ready, it would be pointless to pursue it.
But he remained hopeful.
* * *
Their wine glasses clinked together and they looked into each other's eyes as they sipped. Starsky grinned. Tomorrow he would be on the LAPD's roster for the first time in six weeks. And life would be back to normal.
But, he suddenly remembered, there was one last task left to do. He put the wine glass aside. "There's something I want to give you." He turned and led the way toward the bedroom. He could sense Hutch's curiosity as soft footsteps followed him.
Starsky sat on the mattress and pulled open a bedside drawer. The springs creaked as Hutch sat beside him. He reached in and pulled out the leather wallet. Unfolding it, he took out the gold pocket watch. "Here." He waited until Hutch held out his hand. "You can have this back." He dropped the watch into Hutch's palm.
His partner's blue eyes looked at him in amazement. They also held sadness. "You sure?"
"'Course, I'm sure." Then, softer, "Don't need it no more, Hutch. I still remember how deep the hurt was. But I don't feel the hurt as much now." He took the empty wallet - he'd long since removed the driver's license and other contents - and tossed it into the wastebasket. "It's over. Time to put it behind us."
Hutch blinked. "Except for the minor fact that whoever did this to us is still at large." "We'll get him," Starsky said. "Or rather, Dobey will. With Huggy's help. But, for us, this whole thing is over. Time to move on."
Starsky was immediately sorry he'd said it that way, for he could sense the intense hopefulness in the man beside him. Ah, Hutch. He didn't want to torment the other any more than necessary. It would be so easy to give in with them sitting so close. When they'd kissed that night, it had been so beautiful. So precious. So special. It would be too easy to get started again.
Starsky released a sigh. "Well, guess I'd better turn in early. Got a big day tomorrow." He didn't look up, but he could sense that Hutch was resisting the obvious dismissal. The blond was staring at the floor.
Finally, the long legs moved and Hutch stood. "Yeah, okay," Hutch said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. Clutching the watch, he shuffled out of the room.
Starsky waited until he heard the closing of the apartment door. Then he sighed again and collapsed back on the bed. Sorry, Hutch. Just give me a little more time. I gotta figure this out.
He wished he could take back what they had done two weeks ago. If he'd known that raw anger had been the source of his problem, he would found some other way of getting over it. But it was too late now.
It would be so easy to sleep with Hutch. For reasons of love. They were both ready and willing. But Starsky knew Hutch. His big blond would not be able to relegate their prior joining to something over and done with, a harsh physical act best forgotten. And, surely, Hutch would very much want to show Starsky that he could make love to him painlessly. Lovingly. He'd be desperately anxious to treat him with kid gloves. Afraid to love him passionately.
The ghost of their first coupling - if one could even call it that -- would be hanging around a long time. If thinking Hutch dead while he'd been held captive had taught him one thing, it was that life was too short. The brief kisses he and Hutch had shared had shown Starsky that it could, indeed, be very special and precious between them. If they could somehow release that baggage from their botched first time.
Hutch had been through a lot because of him. Especially lately. Starsky wanted to make up for that. In a big way. A special way. A way that left no doubt in his partner's mind just how strong Starsky's feelings ran.
He gazed at the ceiling. Just give me a little more time, babe. So I can figure out how to ... handle you. I promise I'll make it worth it. So worth it. And you won't ever have to worry your beautiful blond head about the past stuff between us.
Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Hutch, Starsky put his hand over his heart. And started planning.
* * *
"There's that handsome guy."
The female voice seemed vaguely familiar, and Hutch paused with his hand on the stair railing. He glanced back at Starsky, wondering if the woman was talking about his partner. This was only Starsky's second day back at Parker Center.
"I'm talking to you, Ken Hutchinson."
That voice was too friendly and upbeat to ignore. Hutch took his foot off the first step and looked down the hallway.
"Oh," Starsky said behind him, "that's Lucy Dannings. When did she get back in town?"
Oh, yes, Lucy Dannings. He'd had a couple of dates with her a million years ago. She was fun, friendly, and eager for an uncomplicated roll in the sack. "Uh...," Hutch tried to remember his partner's question as he watched the tall brunette smiling broadly at him from the permit counter. "She's been back on duty maybe a week or so." The whole story was returning to memory. "Her mother's recovered now from her accident, so Lucy's come back to California and her job." As he talked, Hutch's legs were taking him to the direction of the counter. He felt confused.
She leaned as far over it as she could. "Hey, there, handsome," she grinned at him in her naturally flirtatious manner. "You ever going to ask me out again, or did you get snagged while I was back east?"
"Not hardly," Hutch said bashfully, lowering his eyes. He knew what he was going to do. Go through the motions. Like a hundred times before. There was no reason not to. Only his wish that there was one.
"Well... uh," he slipped his hand nervously into the back pocket of his jeans, "of course I'm going to ask you out again. What night's best for you?"
Her grin was now coy and teasing. "Just let me check my busy social schedule and get back to you."
"Deal." Hutch turned back toward the stairs. He heard the smacking of her lips behind him, blowing him a kiss.
As he started up the staircase, Hutch found himself strangely aware of his surroundings, as though all of his senses had become heightened. The multitude of conversations as people passed them. The Santa Ana winds blowing outside the window. The odor of something resembling food from the cafeteria. The growing crack in the plaster midway up the staircase. The metal handrail that felt sticky with gum on the off side. And his sixth sense that told of... something... that he could not put into words.
Around the landing and starting up the next staircase. So many people, so many conversations, so many footsteps. But one pair of footsteps stood out. The soft ones of the Adidas of his partner, just behind him.
Hutch took a deep breath as he conquered those final steps to the next floor. And then they were walking down the hallway, toward the squadroom.
A firm grip was on Hutch's arm, and Starsky pushed open a "Janitorial" door, shoving Hutch roughly inside, then closing the door behind them. They were in a small, dark space with dirty mops, brooms, and wash buckets.
"How come you're going out with her?" Starsky stood two inches in front of him, hands on his hips.
It occurred to Hutch that his partner had no right to ask that question. "Why wouldn't I?" He refused to hide his annoyance.
Starsky relaxed a bit. "What you really mean is either shit or get off the pot."
That was his Starsky - always getting right to the point. Hutch nodded. "Yes. That's exactly what I mean."
His partner's bravado crumbled, but his voice was firm. "Okay, okay. Make a date with me instead."
Hutch stared at him, disbelieving. "Just like that?"
"Whaddya mean, just like that? It's only been three weeks. I still remember what it was like."
Surely, Starsky had to mean the kissing and not the fucking.
Now that Hutch, finally, had firm confirmation of Starsky's feelings, he felt it was safe to let his own be transparent. Voice tight with emotion, he whispered, "It's seemed like a million years, for me."
He could see the hint of a huge grin from the light seeping through the door vent. "Big soft-hearted softie." Then, as though skirting around an apology, "Don't you like a little challenge? I mean, the prize isn't any fun if you don't hafta work for it."
A game. It had all been a game. Ever since that fateful night, Starsky had been standoffish whenever Hutch had tried to broach the subject of their feelings. Now, he seemed as eager as Hutch himself.
"You imp," the blond accused.
Starsky's thick eyebrows darted up and down. "And you love me for it."
God, that confidence. That brashness. Boyishness. Playfulness. Strength. It could all be his....
This was such a small closet. So dangerous.
Hutch turned a half step, trying to escape Starsky's nearness, but realized he was trapped in a corner. Resting his cheek against the wall, he tried to get his equilibrium. But his heart was pounding too hard, his stomach tense with the lifelong implications of it all. He needed room to breathe... but his nose was pressed into the corner.
God, if only Starsky would touch him. Press up against his backside, run his hand across the open buttons of his shirt. Someone might open the door and find them. And then they would be fired. And then they wouldn't have to worry about being caught.
"Let's get one thing straight." His partner's voice was firm again, perhaps even angry. "Just because I don't want to talk about it does not give you permission to go seek out someone like Lucy Dannings instead."
I didn't seek her out... Hutch wanted to protest.
Starsky's voice was thick, dangerous. "When you rammed your cock up into me, you made it mine. You can't go giving it to someone else. Ever."
Ever? Oh, my God...
Was Starsky really angry?
His heavy whisper continued. "Once you give me a part of yourself, you can't just go taking it back and giving it to somebody else. Understand? Just like you can't give your heart to anybody else. Because you gave it to me a long time ago."
Hutch knew Starsky wasn't talking about a particular incident, but of the length of their partnership. Oh, God...
Starsky's voice seemed mocking now. "It never works out when you try to give it to someone else, does it?" Heavy breath. "That's because it already belongs to me."
Jealousy? Hutch would never have imagined it could be so strong within his partner. The tangible reality of it was too much to take. He felt himself dissolving, floating, and couldn't hold onto himself. His trembling legs could not hold him up anymore, and he slowly sank to the floor, his cheek smearing against dirty paint, his limp fingers clutching a broom handle.
"Look at you," Starsky spat. Genuine anger now. Or was it still a game? "You're on your knees. I haven't laid a single hand on you, and you're on your knees." His heavy breath was thick with passion. "Has anyone ever sent you to your knees before? When you and Vanessa went through your puppy love - "
God, what a polite phrase for it....
"—you never went to your knees for her, did you? Without being able to see, let alone touch, her? No, I know you didn't. Only I can do that to you. Only I can make you come over and fuck me like you did, when that was the last thing you wanted to do."
Silence. Except for the sound of their breathing.
Then, softer, "So, don't you be getting any ideas about putting your dick anywhere else. I own it, just like I own the rest of you."
"And if I decide I don't want any part of it for six months, then you go six months without. Understand?"
Starsky paused, then the rules continued. "You gave up your right to anyone else, and to your own independence, the moment you shoved yourself up into me."
Keeps coming back to that, Hutch thought in a daze. Did the fucking itself actually mean that much to him? If so, why did he tell me to get off him....
Harsher now. "And I shouldn't have to be explain any of this to you. You knew it the moment you sold your soul to me."
Oh, dear, dear God....
Hutch wanted to protest that he had made no such agreement, that Starsky had no right to claim anything of him. But why argue for merely academic reasons? Why argue for argument's sake?
Please, buddy, your hand. Just put your hand between my legs... and then he would be released from the awful, confining pain at his crotch. He knew Starsky was feeling it, too. The air in the tiny space was thick with their desire. Hutch released the softest of whimpers.
"I know other things about you, too." Bragging. Or was there a touch of tenderness in that voice? "I know the weight of our world that you've been carrying on your shoulders."
Our world? Ohhh....
Definite tenderness now. "Gotta survive. Gotta take care of your partner, so he survives. Because his survival means your survival. And then he's pushing you away. But you still have to take care of him. You struggle for answers. He's not talking so the answers are all up to you. And then when he talks his answer is impossible. It's wrong. But you do what he says. And you know that, despite what he says about forgiveness, that it's all your responsibility. That's a heavy, heavy burden, Hutch."
Yes.... As he forced down a swallow, his lips tasted the ancient filth of the wall.
"I'm freeing you from it, Hutch. Because of you, I'm strong again. And right this moment, I'm releasing you from all responsibility. I'm handling things now, Hutch. What I say goes."
God, that strength. That confidence.
"I'm taking care of everything." A promise? Or a threat?
Already, it was happening. His shoulders felt lighter. His cheek pressed more heavily against the wall as a wave of relief washed his strength away. Because he wouldn't need strength anymore. Starsky was handling everything.
"Your monster hard-on is shrinking. Because you're so weak right now. You have my permission to be weak, Hutch. You won't have to be strong again for a long, long time."
Oh, God. Sanctuary. Finally. Sanctuary. Peace. Freedom. Without losing him. Anything goes and he'll still want me. Because he loves me. No matter what.
Death could come now, because his life's mission had been fulfilled. At the very least, he wanted sleep to come. Go to sleep and never have to wake up. And Starsky would watch over his soul.
"Now, listen while I tell you what we're going to do." Whispering, but sounding like his normal, playful self. "I'm gonna make sure the coast is clear, and I'm going to walk out of here. I'm gonna go to Dobey and tell him you've suddenly got sick and couldn't even make it to the john and you're puking all over the broom closet."
Hutch didn't have the strength to smile, but his heart flipped over. That was his Starsky: Seamlessly switching from a lifetime of love to throwing up.
"I'm gonna tell him I'm taking you home to take care of you - stress an' all from everything you've been through." Pause. "And the taking care of you won't be a lie."
Hutch held his breath. What does he mean exactly by `taking care'? It almost sounded like a threat again.
"And since you're so sick, you obviously won't be able to come in tomorrow. And I'll tell him I'm taking you to see a doctor for a thorough examination." Pause.
"So, we're covered for the next day and a half. So, after I leave here, you walk outta here lookin' real miserable, and then you go down to the parking garage and get in the car and wait for me."
No request for agreement. Just a pause while waiting for the sound of footsteps to disappear. And then Starsky opened the door and slipped out.
* * *
The hardest part was trying to reassure all the concerned people that he didn't need help; that he could make it to the car on his own, that Starsky would be taking him home in a few minutes. Yet, he had to admit that he didn't feel at all guilty at the looks of concern as he stumbled down the stairs and halls, hunched over with his arm across his stomach.
If being in love was insanity, then he was indeed a very, very, very sick man.
* * *
He made a conscious decision not to speak. Every time he started to say something - about where they might be going, what they were going to do, whether to stop or run the yellow light - he reminded himself that he didn't have to. He was free. None of what was going to happen now or in the near future was his responsibility.
He hadn't known it was possible to feel so light and carefree. He'd never felt a freedom like this in his entire adult life. Not since he was a small child.
Starsky seemed cheerful, eager, and energetic. He had a definite sense of purpose. They stopped by his apartment. While Hutch stood silently, Starsky threw things into a duffel bag, including shirts Hutch recognized as once being his. Finally, the duffel bag was stuffed with clothes and toiletries for them both, to the point where it was too full to close the zipper. The last thing Starsky tossed on top of the open bag was the tube of K-Y.
Hutch knew that was going to be used on him.
They had just started for the door when there was a sudden knock. Starsky glanced back at Hutch, his mouth dropping open in puzzlement.
No, Hutch pleaded. Don't let anything interfere with this.
Starsky put the bag down and opened the peep window. "Who is it?"
"Huggy," Hutch muttered. But what is he doing here? To the fates, he pleaded, Please don't let it be anything important.
"Yeah, just a sec," Starsky called back. He opened the door. "Hey there, Huggy, what brings you here?"
The black man entered. "I've been looking for you guys all day. Then I heard you'd gotten sick, Hutch." He looked the blond up and down.
Hutch put a hand to his stomach. "Yeah, uh...."
Starsky changed the subject. "What's up?"
"I heard something about what happened to you guys that I'm not ready to talk to Dobey about."
Starsky stepped back and gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat." He met Hutch's eye with the same puzzlement that the blond felt, as he straddled the sofa arm.
Huggy sat down. "One of the cats I've been working with found out some more stuff on the person behind it. I don't think what happened to you guys had anything to do with someone trying to get revenge on you both."
"WHAT?" they demanded in unison.
"I think the guy - if it's him - was after Dobey. That's why I wanted to come to you two first."
"Whaddya mean, after Dobey?" Starsky said. "If this weirdo wanted to get Dobey, why the big charade with Hutch and me?"
"I know it sounds crazy. But... have either of you heard of a man named Parker Green?"
Hutch thought hard. An unusual name. Surely, they'd remember....
"No," Starsky answered for them both.
"Okay, just between us for now, this is what I think is going on."
Both detectives waited.
"About ten years ago, Parker Green was a young detective who was one of the first ones to work under Dobey. Green and his partner, Ron Gibson, were put on an assignment under Dobey's command. Something went wrong, Gibson got killed, and Green blamed Dobey for his partner's death. So, Green has held a grudge all these years."
Starsky blurted, "But how -"
"Let me finish. Green has still been working in the Department all these years. He was transferred to Public Relations after Gibson's death, working the charity end; you know, getting contributions for funds for officers killed in the line of duty, that sort of thing. He never moved up in the ranks."
Both detectives nodded, absorbing the information.
"A rich aunt of Green's died a year or so ago. Green inherited a lot of money. But he didn't quit the force. Maybe the money was what he'd been waiting for. Finally, he had the bread to put his plan into action." Huggy sat back against the sofa and looked at both men. "He wanted to get at Dobey. Hurt him. Humiliate him. What better way than to have his two best detectives disappear without a trace?"
"But if we're talking about real hurt," Hutch said, "Green would have gone after Dobey's family."
"No," Huggy said, before Starsky could agree. "He wanted to hurt Dobey in a way a cop would understand. If Dobey was still on the streets and had a partner, then I suppose Green would have gone after the partner. Since Dobey was flying a desk, Green had to go after the best Dobey had, make it so mysterious that Dobey had nothing to offer the press or his superiors about what happened to two of the LAPD's best that Dobey was responsible for; and, best for Green, it was two real tight partners that disappeared."
Hutch wondered, "But why do that to Starsky and me, if it was Dobey he wanted to hurt? As much as I know that our dear captain went through, it wasn't be anything like what we went through." Especially what Starsky went through, he added silently.
"I'm don't know the answer to that," Huggy said. "But from what my people have found out, it sounds like Green was after Dobey more than the two of you. I know someone who runs a gas station that Green uses a lot. He said Green had mentioned a few times how funny it was that Dobey was struggling so hard to find out who kidnapped you two. And then, after you guys were safe, Green was laughing about how the police - and Dobey in particular - couldn't find out who was behind it."
"I don't know," Starsky said, "This Green fellow sure went through a lot of trouble...."
Huggy shrugged. "I guess it was all he had to live for - getting back at Dobey."
Starsky said, "And so this Green guy is still showing up at the station for work every morning, confident as hell that no one is going to know it's him behind the whole thing?"
"He was careful to make sure that nobody knew anybody else two links further down the chain of events. That's why information has been hard to get."
"What about evidence to convict him?" Hutch said. "You haven't told us much that's concrete."
"That part, gentlemen, is out of my realm of expertise." Huggy grinned. "That's for you law enforcement types to figure out."
Starsky looked at Hutch and sighed. "Then we need a confession."
"Right," Hutch said.
Huggy got up. "Anyway, I wanted to bring this to you two first - thought the truth might be hard on Dobey." He moved to the door.
"Good work," Starsky said. "Hutch and me will figure out how to handle Green."
Huggy waved and left.
Hutch turned away while the door closed. His mind was racing. They'd have to approach Green carefully. Green was a cop and he'd be aware of the law, and be careful of what he might say. How should they go about confronting him? Should they set up something in advance, or just show up -
Hutch grunted when a weight was suddenly upon his back, dragging him down to the carpet, his chin scraping the rug.
"You don't listen real good, do you?" Starsky's angry voice said.
"Wh - "
A hand clamped over his mouth. "Shut up," his partner ordered. "I'm in charge, remember? And you don't speak, unless I tell you to."
Was this real anger? Or more of the game? Starsky's weight was heavy, straddling across his back.
Starsky's voice grew softer, but only because he had moved closer to his ear. "I released you from all responsibility this morning. And what do I get? I get thinking. You thinking, when the only thing you're supposed to be doing is breathing in and out and obeying ev-er-y sing-le thing I tell you."
"B—" No, he wasn't supposed to speak.
"Put your arms at your sides." As the order was spoken, Starsky grabbed his arms and put them alongside his body.
Helpless. Facedown with Starsky on top of him. His arms in a vulnerable position, unable to defend himself.
"You don't seem to understand what's going on here," Starsky's disgusted voice continued. "You seem to think that just because someone knocks on the door and has something to say that that somehow changes what's going on between me and you. Uh-uh."
A bolt of glee shot through Hutch. Still going through with it....
Starsky stretched out on top of him. His voice was softer now... yet somehow more dangerous. Hips ground against Hutch's buttocks, then suddenly a denim-clad hardness rammed against his denim-clad ass.
Oh, dear God....
That tight voice was at his ear again. "Let me explain what's going on, since you don't seem to have a clue." Steel pushed more firmly against him, bunching his clothing. Then breathlessness in his ear. "This is going to happen to you. And it's going to happen before the day is over."
God, dear God.
"And it's going to happen to you because I want it to. And what you want has absolutely no say in the matter. Because none of it is your responsibility. You could look me in the eye and tell me you don't want it, and it would still happen. Because you don't have a voice, Hutch. I own you -- "
Breathe... breathe... breathe....
" - and that means you only have a voice if I say so, and I took your voice away this morning. So there's no way you can stop this from happening." More grinding from that steel thickness against his crevice.
Fingers fumbling beneath him....
Feeling near the top of his jeans...
What's he doing? Breathe... breathe... pleasetouchmycock....
Tugging his shirt up and out of the way....
Can't take it. If he doesn't let me come, I'll die...
Hand rubbing across the bareness of his stomach....
"You think this is a hand?" Starsky demanded. "Uh-uh. It's a tool I use to control you with."
Shifting on top of him....
God, he's heavy....
Relief, as Starsky settled beside Hutch, his knees taking his weight. He pushed up the back of Hutch's shirt. Hutch felt soft wetness in the middle of his spine. "You think these are lips? Uh-uh. They're a tool I use to control you with."
Arrogant, arrogant rascal....
Hand underneath again. Parting the snap to his jeans.
Holy Moses. Holy, holy Moses....
Now at his lower back, tugging at his jeans.
Dear God, he's going to do it right here, right now? He was a little disappointed. Had thought they were going somewhere....
No, the tugging stopped, leaving just his upper buttocks exposed. Then wet softness darting along the upper seam of his ass crack....
Hutch cried out, jolted against the carpet, a wave of goosebumps flushing through his body....
"You think this is a tongue? Uh-uh. It's something - " Abruptly, Starsky shut up.
The world stopped spinning on its axis. Hutch knew that, from this moment on, his life would never be the same again. But he had no idea why.
"Ahhh, Hutch." The voice was soft now. Tender. Playful.
Jekyll and Hyde...
"You're so, so, so transparent. It would be shamefully disgusting if it weren't so shamelessly beautiful." Starsky sighed deeply, as though resigned. "I'm real disappointed now."
Really? Hutch hoped not.
Starsky shifted on his knees. "See, considering how you reacted just now, I have a fantasy, but I'm not going to be able to act it out. In the fantasy, I pull your pants down. And I tell you to spread your legs real wide. And then I pull your ass cheeks east and west, and I start feasting on your asshole."
. "And, you know, Hutch, it wouldn't be like any other ass lick you've ever had before. Because, you know, sometimes when you get a little favor like that, she runs her tongue along you or somethin', but it never lasts very long. And, you know, if she's someone you like and you care about, you're hardly gonna ask her to do that. And even if she's someone who's name you don't remember, you feel embarrassed if she spends too much time there, so you don't ever hint at how much you want it. You're too polite."
Another heavy sigh. "But, Hutch, I'm not gonna pull your pants down and tell you to spread your legs wide and pull your ass cheeks east and west and feast down there." He paused, and his voice grew harder. "Because you've shown me that I can't trust you."
"I told you I was takin' care of everything, and you went off and started thinking. That was very disobedient of you, Hutch. So, instead of sitting here fulfilling my fantasy of tending to your asshole all afternoon - "
"I instead have to use this little bit of information I just now found out about you for blackmail to make you behave. I'm not very happy about that, Hutch."
Hutch squeezed his eyes shut. Punish me any way you want, but let me come, please....
Starsky softened. "All right. First we're going to go over what's going to happen if you're a hundred percent good and you don't do anything else wrong. Listen good, because I'm not going to repeat it. When we get to the place where I'm going to fuck you, I'm going to first spend thirty minutes licking your asshole."
Oh, Jesus, God Almighty....
Heavy, heavy breath. "Thirty minutes, Hutch. But every time that you're bad, I'm gonna subtract five minutes." Threatening: "I'm not gonna be very happy about it if I have to subtract any time, Hutch. Cause it'll mean you're interfering with my pleasure."
His heart was going to stop. He was going to die....
Slightly softer again. "All right. Now, what do you have to do to be good? It's very simple, Hutch. Ridiculously simple. So simple, that there's no excuse for messing it up. All you have to do is keep breathing in and breathing out. That's all. You don't think. You don't talk, unless I specifically tell you to talk. And you do exactly what I tell you. You just do what I say, and there's no thinking involved. It's so simple I don't get how you've already screwed up and messed up my fantasy. I'm still mad about that, Hutch."
But - Hutch wanted to protest. No, don't think.
"Now, there's two rules that we're gonna live by that are always in effect."
We're gonna live by.... Oh, Starsky... His heart was somersaulting.
"The first is that, at any time, anywhere, you're always allowed to come. You don't need my permission."
What a clever devil Starsky was. Already, Hutch felt the worst pain of his aching erection start to ease, as the urgency disappeared with the knowledge that he never had to try to prevent it from happening.
"Even if we're in a grocery store or some place like that."
"Second, you're always allowed to make noise as long as you can't help it. But no words, Hutch, unless you have my permission. And you're not allowed to ask for permission."
Oh, my God....
The voice came closer, dropped lower.
"So, see, there's no reason why you can't be obedient.
There's no reason for me to take any time off the thirty
minutes I'm going to spend with my tongue up inside your
"But, an hour ago, I woulda thought you couldn't do anything bad at all. But you've shown me I can't trust you about that."
"All right, we've wasted enough time. Pull your beautiful carcass up off the floor so I can take you to where you're going to get fucked."
The world began to rotate again. Hutch hauled himself onto all fours. He was weak, dizzy, and still throbbing terribly at his crotch. Would he be allowed to touch himself? But he wasn't allowed to ask. Slowly, he staggered to his feet. His heart must still be beating, because he was breathing.
Starsky's hand was already on the door and he gripped the duffel bag. "For God's sakes, Hutch, fasten your pants and tuck in your shirt."
* * *
He kept looking out the side window while they headed north up the coastline. Every time he thought his desire was ebbing, he couldn't help but think about what was going to happen to him if he was good. He had to sit with his legs spread wide and wonder how long the torment would last.
Starsky stopped for gas, and after paying, he reached across the seat to Hutch. "Here. Ice water."
Hutch tried to take it, but it slipped out of Starsky's fingers. Into Hutch's lap.
His eyes widened as the biting cold collided with the heat of his groin. It was on the tip of his tongue to yell and swear and call Starsky everything in the book....
.... And then he realized how important it was not to say anything. So, he was good and didn't react and didn't have any minutes subtracted. Instead, he just looked up to see Starsky's reaction.
His partner met his eye and shrugged sheepishly. "Oops."
* * *
Starsky pulled over to the shoulder of the freeway. "I don't want you to see where we're going."
Oh, Jesus, God....
"It'd be easiest to blindfold you, but a passerby would call the cops within seconds. So, we gotta do the next best thing. Lower your head, Hutch, like you're in church."
Hutch lowered his head to look at the floorboard.
"Good. Don't you dare look up until I say so."
Thankfully, they only drove another ten minutes. Hutch was sure they were in Long Beach. He couldn't imagine the reason for the secrecy, but he wasn't sure he understood anything Starsky had said or done since shoving him into the closet this morning. He did know that he'd never felt such a sense of danger while in the presence of his partner. Nor had he ever felt this excited.
"All right," Starsky said when he'd turned off the motor. "Get out of the car without looking up."
Hutch opened the door and got out, watching his shoes step onto the pavement. As he closed the door, Starsky's came up beside him.
"Okay," Starsky said. "Without turning your head, move your eyes until they're on my crotch."
Hutch's obedience was automatic. He gazed at the thick mound of Starsky's crotch. It moved within the denim.
Dear God... His lap had dried in the afternoon sun, but now he was going to embarrass himself just as blatantly. Except.... Hutch knew he was truly free. He wasn't the least bit embarrassed, even if they were in a public place. This was all Starsky's game and Hutch was just a pawn. Nothing to be embarrassed about because none of it was his doing.
"All right. You keep your eyes right there until I say otherwise. Let's go."
They started walking across a parking lot. Hutch realized that, to a passerby, he would just look like someone with a bowed head.
Up a step... go through a glass door...
The thick crotch paused next to a desk.
"May I help you, sir?" The male voice was formal, giving the impression that this was a classy establishment.
"Yes," Starsky said, "I'd like to get a room for the night." He kept shifting so that he wasn't completely facing the desk, keeping his crotch in view.
Brash, arrogant.... Hutch had to remember to keep breathing. I ought to turn him over my knee for thinking he can get away with behaving like this. Displaying himself for anyone who cares to look.... (not that I have a choice)....
"I'm afraid that singles are all we have left for this evening."
"If you care for a rollaway, I can - "
"Nah, that's okay. We'll manage."
"The beds are king-sized." As though being helpful.
"If you can fill out this card."
Sound of papers and shuffling. "I'm sorry, sir, but we haven't yet replaced the key that was lost. There's only one to that room."
"That's all we need."
"And how would you like to pay for this?"
"Credit card." A hand moved passed Hutch's vision, and then contained a wallet when it passed back again.
"Will you be paying separately?"
"No, and, uh," clearing throat, "we'd also like to keep the room until six o'clock tomorrow evening."
In a room with Starsky all that time.... Hutch saw the thick lump twitch again. Starsky was shifting his feet more than ever. "Do we have to pay for a whole `nother night even though we're leaving at six?"
"Uh, let me check with the manager."
Silence. People were standing behind them.
"Sir, our normal policy is to charge another night for anyone who stays past noon. However, since it's not our peak season, our manager has given permission to charge only fifty percent for keeping the room the entire day."
"Thanks. Appreciate it very much."
More sounds of paper. Hutch had the feeling he was being stared at.
"He can't talk," Starsky said by way of explanation.
"Oh, I see." Embarrassment. Pity.
"I mean, he can talk, but he's just not allowed to. It's a religious thing."
Starsky, I swear....
"He's paying penance for a bad thing he did. I'm helping him get himself straightened out."
Paying penance for a bad thing, Hutch thought defiantly, that wasn't a "bad thing" until I'd already been "bad", which is why he knocked me to the floor. If he hadn't done that, then he never would have had that fantasy of licking my asshole all afternoon - breathe, breathe -- in the first place.
Hutch wondered if Starsky had any idea how transparently faulty his logic was.
The air across the counter was thick with embarrassment on Hutch's behalf. Hutch wished that he could look up and see their faces.
Oops. The crotch moved and Hutch had to concentrate to keep up. Then it paused again and there were sounds of elevators. Once again, Hutch was aware of people standing behind them.
Into the elevator. Four of them, including himself and Starsky, and two women.
Starsky leaned back against the railing, exposing himself fully.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" one of the women said.
"The greatest on Earth," Starsky replied. The denim shifted again. Expectant silence, then Starsky explained, "I'm getting married today."
"Oh...," puzzled female voices, as Starsky was hardly dressed for the occasion. "Congratulations."
God, how many floors? Married. I never agreed....
But I had no say. I didn't argue when he said he was in charge. So, he's in charge. But... is this all part of the game, or does he really feel that's what we're doing?
Extended silence, and Hutch again had the sensation of being stared at.
Awkwardly, another female voice asked, "Are you with this young groom?"
"Yes," Starsky answered for him.
The door opened and the women quickly exited.
The elevator started up again, the air thick between the two of them. There was the noise of a throat clearing, then casual whistling.
Will he give up the game as soon as we're in the room?
Hutch hoped so. Then they could collide together and hump like rabbits. Release and relief.
But then maybe he wouldn't get his thirty minutes. He wanted his thirty minutes. He'd gone through this ridiculous charade for his thirty minutes. He wanted his thirty minutes more than anything.
He realized he was sweating.
Elevator opening. Starsky strolling casually into the hall, still whistling, Hutch keeping up at his side. Pausing... as Starsky checked room numbers. Walking. Walking. The hallway was so long. If penises could undo zippers, Hutch's would have already freed itself and extended clear down the corridor from all his backed up desire.
And after I was done paddling his arrogant ass, I'd pin him against the wall and ram my sixty-foot cock into him. That'd show him. That'd humble him. Maybe even for two full minutes....
Sound of a key....
They'd stopped and Hutch hadn't even realized it. The mound of Starsky's crotch was so huge that the outline of every bit of his flesh could be seen... or at least imagined.
Door handle turning.... Door opening.....
"Stay here." The gentle command was delivered just inside the door. The door closed. Then the crotch walked away.
What's he doing?
A casual voice from across the room. "You can look up if you want."
Hutch did. Starsky was gazing out the window. It was a very nice hotel room, but still just a hotel room. Hardly worth all the secrecy. Hell, all he had to do was find the stationary to see what hotel it was.
It was never a secret, he knew. Just part of his game.
Slowly, Starsky straightened and stared across the room at Hutch. Matter-of-factly, but with a hint of sadness, he said, "I'm not very happy with you, Hutch."
What? He'd been good. Hadn't done a single bad thing. Starsky had better not -
"You were thinking." Heavy sigh. "Thinking in the lobby. Thinking in the elevator. Thinking down the hallway. That's fifteen minutes off your time, Hutch."
WAIT A SECOND! He made sure his exasperation showed on his face. When I was thinking as we came off the elevator it was about getting my thirty minutes. How can that be held against me?
Starsky slowly walked up to him, tilted his head to one side, as though considering. Then he said, "I'm going to ask you a question, and the only answer you're allowed to give is yes or no. One of those times you were thinking, were you thinking about your thirty minutes?"
"Yes." Ask me again. Ask me about those other two times and I'll lie and say yes. I want your tongue up my ass so bad that I'll do anything to get my whole thirty minutes back.
"All right, we'll compromise," Starsky said, as though having made a great decision. "I'll give you three minutes back for the time you were thinking about me darting my tongue up inside your asshole." He stared at Hutch as his tongue darted out to circle around his lips.
God, I'm going to faint. Hutch was breathing so hard he could hear himself.
Starsky switched gears and the edge was back in his voice. His eyes were dark and dangerous. "But I'm still not very happy about the twelve minutes you've taken off my time, Hutch. You need a helluva lot more practice at this thing. You've got a long, long ways to go before you're any good at being good. I keep tellin' ya how simple it is. You just breathe in and out. And do exactly what I tell you. You don't think. Now get undressed."
Yes, undress. Hutch tore at his shirt. No chance to be bad while he still had eighteen minutes. Do what he says.
It was such relief when his jeans and underwear went down his legs, freeing his giant erection. Within sixty seconds, he straightened, completely nude.
Starsky had watched, but didn't seem particularly interested. Or impressed. He moved into the bathroom, and Hutch heard bath water running. Starsky called out, "If you have to piss, go ahead."
Piss? His lower body had been so tormented, how was he supposed to know which urge was which? Nevertheless, it seemed like a good idea, so he walked into the bathroom and stood before the toilet. He had to stand there a long time, as Starsky fussed with the bath water, before the contents of his bladder got through.
He shook himself dry and turned to the tub, waiting for orders. Starsky had just turned off the water and the tub was less than half full.
"Okay." Starsky eyed him up and down, from where he knelt beside the tub, his gaze soft and gentle. "In you go." He took Hutch's arm.
Hutch stepped into the tub, thinking it was the first tender touch from his partner in a long time.
"Sit down there." A slight tug.
Hutch sat in the warm water. It didn't even come up to his waist, and his dick bobbed along the surface, seeking more of the wet warmth.
Starsky leaned toward him, breathing heavily. "Listen, Hutch. Listen good. Cause I don't want you to mess this up and have any more of my time taken off."
Oh God... please don't make it something difficult. Eighteen minutes I've still got.
"'Kay, now listen. I'm going to get undressed right here in this bathroom. But, Hutch, listen good, now. You can only look at me above the waist. Your eyes drift for one zillionth of a second to below my waist, I'm gonna have to take more time off for disobedience." Heavy breath. "I don't want to take more time off, Hutch."
Hutch felt his mouth fall open. I'm not supposed to look at that huge thing of his? After staring at its outline all the way from the car to our room? Don't I have a right to see what he's going to shove up into me? (Later... after my eighteen minutes.)
"I know it's a tough one, Hutch. But it starts right now. You can look anywhere else, but not at me below the waist."
Hutch dropped his head back against the edge of the tub and stared at the ceiling tiles. Can't take a chance on messing up...
Soft sound of the movement of clothing. Then feet against tiles. Foot stepping into water. Awkward movement, legs brushing against his legs.
Want to look so bad....
"Sit up on your ass more."
Hutch was practically lying down, and he now straightened so there was a little more room.
"Spread your legs so they're outside of me."
Oh, God. Eyes determinedly on the ceiling, Hutch felt around with his feet until he'd managed to slip his legs outside of Starsky's body. One leg rested on the side of the tub, the other draped over the edge.
Exposed.... He can put anything into me and there's nothing I can do about it.
"All right." Soft now. Incredibly tender. "There's something I hafta do Just hafta. Because I can't wait anymore. But Hutch, you aren't allowed to move anything below your neck."
Oh, God, more rules. He wasn't going to survive this. He knew he wasn't. From what direction is whatever he can't wait for anymore going to happen? What part of him is he going to use to touch what part of me?
Dark hair came into his vision, then that heavily chiseled face. Hot breath tickled his chin. And then lips were against his....
Sinking, floating....groaning loudly.... Oh, no! Messed up!
But Starsky was still pressing against him. Okay to make noise if I couldn't help it, he reminded himself. No, I can't help it. I can't help any of it.
Their heads were moving back and forth, Starsky's hand now rubbing against his chest.
God, so beautiful. I want to die right here. Starsky on top of me, kissing me so tenderly, my prick aimed straight up at the ceiling. Floating away....
But it ended. Starsky pulled back. Hutch's eyes had closed, and when he opened them he was looking into the soft features of a face that appeared to be floating off the planet as well.
Soft lips touched his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth. Starsky's eyes were barely open, the lids were so droopy. His voice so tender. "I could take or leave any of the rest of it. But I could spend the next day and a half in this hotel room, just kissing you."
Ah, Starsky... Ah, buddy....
Despite his words, Starsky looked down. Hutch had to be very careful not to follow his gaze, for fear of seeing something he wasn't supposed to see. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
Lips touched his right nipple. A wet tongue lapped at it.
Teeth barely nibbled at the surrounding area. Then that luscious mouth sucked....
I'm gonna come. Any second, I'm gonna come. Touch me, please....
The touch went away. Silence for three seconds. Then, "We're going to have to do something about this."
Hutch opened his eyes and saw Starsky's bent head. Looking down at him. Seeing his huge, purple cock aimed toward the ceiling.
Oh, God! What's he gonna do?
Soft roughness of a washcloth, moving over his prick. Fingers/thumb/something feeling along the crown. Squeezing....
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" exploded out of him as his pressure released, and creamy liquid fountained, as sensations rushed all through his body. Hutch collapsed back with closed eyes, bumping his head on the wall, even as more spurted from his cock.
"Man," wonder in Starsky's tone, "your balls must have turned inside out."
Yes. His balls had turned inside out. They'd never be able to hold sperm again, and that was fine, because he never wanted to know pressure like that again, but he wasn't sorry that he was completely comatose from the ecstatic release, which had been beyond description.
"God, you're beautiful, Hutch." So tender.
Lazily, he let his eyes drift open, making sure he was looking up. Though he didn't know what difference obeying made now. Something about a tongue up his asshole, but he wouldn't be able to enjoy it, anyway. He was incapable of feeling any further physical sensations whatsoever. That capability had just ejaculated out of him.
Starsky look so pleased with him. Hutch grinned.
Then Starsky shifted just a hair, and Hutch suddenly felt claustrophobic.
"All right, Hutch, you left a big puddle on yourself."
Yes, he could feel it cooling along his belly and on his ribs.
"What I want you to do - "
Still giving orders?
"is scoop it up with your fingers - "
I want to sleep.
"—and place it anywhere on your upper body where you want me to put my tongue."
Hutch breathed deeply. The game isn't over. All right, maybe he didn't have to be selfish. He could do this for Starsky.
What was it? Scoop up the cum. He didn't look down at the puddle, because that was against orders, but he did put his hand down in it and rub his fingers through it.
Man, that is a lot. What was he supposed to do? Put it where I want Starsky to put his tongue. He was amused now. Yes, he could still play along.
Hutch waited until Starsky looked up. Then he locked eyes with him. And he took his cum-covered fingers and rubbed them along his right nipple. Holding the other's darkening gaze, he scooped up more of the cooling substance and treated his left nipple the same way. And then, his breath heavy with the excitement of teasing Starsky, he scooped up the remainder. He rubbed it along his lips. Finally, refusing to release Starsky from his gaze, he stuck out his tongue and rubbed the remnants of the fluid along the top.
There. He waited, holding his mouth open. You want it, you come and get it.
And Starsky was on him, panting, licking around Hutch's lips, tongue darting along them as though he couldn't get enough. He grabbed Hutch by the sides of his face and pressed their lips together, thrusting his tongue inside, dancing along Hutch's tongue.
Jesus, he's so hot. He was getting another hard-on. And... Starsky hasn't come at all yet. A wave of sympathy washed through him.
Starsky calmed down... a little. He was still kissing, licking and sucking at the inside of Hutch's mouth. But now the kiss became more normal, like the one before, where all they did was float....
Eventually, Starsky released Hutch's lips, his dark head bowing. Hutch lay back and closed his eyes as his nipples were tended to. Damn, Starsky spent a lot of time there. Licking and sucking... testing reactions. I like that. Like that a lot.
Starsky's hands came up to the sides of Hutch's face again, this time their grip light and gentle. Panting, the well-chiseled face came closer. "You've been a good boy, Hutch." He actually sounded surprised.
Eighteen minutes. Yeah, I do want it. I'll come again if he spends that long with his tongue licking my asshole. God...
"And now I'm gonna make it real easy."
Oh, no, not another order.
"Close your eyes, Hutch."
Hutch closed them.
Soft, earnest, gentle voice. "You have to keep them closed, Hutch. Until I tell you to open them. And when I tell you to open them, it'll be okay to look at me below the waist. But that's gonna be a little while, so just keep your eyes closed and do exactly what I tell you."
Hutch tried to draw a breath, for he was having a hard time taking in enough air. What's going to happen?
"Open your mouth." It was an order, but the tone was very gentle.
Hutch opened his mouth.
A hand was now in his hair, its touch just as tender. Hutch opened wider.
"'Kay." Panting. "Work up some spit."
Hutch did, panting in sympathy with his partner's arousal.
"Wet your lips by running your tongue along them."
Good idea, since they were so dry. To the left... then the right....
"Good boy." Starsky sounded like he couldn't get enough air. "Keep your mouth open. Stay real still."
God, what's he going to put in there? He had a pretty good idea....
Shifting, movement of the water, sound of limbs connecting with bathroom tile, as though seeking a better position.
"Okay, real easy." A bare whisper. "Easy does it."
Smooth skin pulled taut over swollen tissue touched Hutch's upper lip... then his lower lip... Passing between them....
God, so big. It was so difficult to hold still, because he wanted to clamp his lips around it and go to work. To please Starsky. Please him so much.
But the huge cylinder now rested along the top of his tongue.
"'Kay." One breath. Two. "Now close your lips around it - just the head."
Gratefully, Hutch let his lips wrap around it, feeling the taut ridge just inside his mouth. Huge. The strain of its fullness. The bitter, musky taste coming from it. He's got to be in torture. Go ahead, buddy. Ram it against my tonsils and come down my throat.
"Let your tongue slide along the underside. Suck against there." The hand in his hair now stroked down the side of his forehead, onto his cheek. An even gentler touch beneath his jaw. God, the skin was smooth. Why wouldn't Starsky let him have the whole thing?
Another moment of heavy breathing. Then, "Find the tip with your tongue and lick it."
Retracting his tongue. Dancing along that underside. Hardly any room to maneuver. Find the even smoother crown. Lick the slit.
"Ah," Starsky let out a soft cry and quivered.
The taste was very strong there. Hutch swallowed it, felt himself shiver at the tanginess.
Pushing farther, more of that massive thickness moving past his lips. Hutch didn't think there was enough room to suck. The girth of it filled up his whole mouth.
"I know it's big, Hutch." Not even bragging; but tender apology. "I'm gonna have a heck of a time fucking you with the whole thing." Now threatening. "But that's what I'm going to do."
Hutch exhaled, letting his heavy breath find its way around the obstruction, which flared at Starsky's words. He'd forgotten the whole reason why they were here. This thing couldn't even fit all the way inside his mouth, and it was going to be shoved up inside his ass?
He wanted very much for Starsky to come, to release the pressure, to make it smaller. Except... he knew that it was only fair if it ripped him open, like he had done to Starsky.
Just when he was thinking about going to town on it, and risk defying orders, it was pulled back, so the tip rested against his lower lip.
Please let me open my eyes. Let me see it.
"Hutch." One breath. "I'm real close to exploding all over the place." Two breaths. "If I happen to come in your mouth, don't swallow it until I say so."
Why not? Let this beautiful thing of yours come all over my mouth. I'll drink every bit of it and be back for more.
The crown parted his lips again. But it frustrated him when it was pulled back. And then that throbbing, smooth skin teased along his cheek. So hot. And then down....
"Open your eyes, Hutch."
Hutch did. It was huge, deep red. Pointed at his throat. Starsky screamed and it was shooting against his neck, down onto his chest.
Starsky looked like an ancient warrior, head thrown back as he cried out to the ceiling, his bare legs struggling to maintain some sort of purchase against the sides of the tub...
He's so damn beautiful and he's going to fall....
Hutch could only sit there and watch. He hadn't been ordered to do anything.
Starsky slid into the shallow water on his rear, splashing. He winced as his back came into contact with the faucet.
He sat hunched over, breathing deeply. And then he let out a long, breezy sigh. Swallowed. Raised his head. Grinned.
Hutch grinned back.
"Now." Rising up on his knees with renewed vigor. "Now that that's out of the way we can get serious."
Get serious? Why? What about curling up together on that huge bed and falling asleep in each other's arms? We can fuck later.
Starsky bent down to him, their lips connecting... No matter how tired they were, it was so beautiful, the way they melted together. Hutch wanted so much to put his arms around Starsky. Hold him. Love him.
With obvious reluctance, Starsky pulled back, eyes slit as they gazed lovingly at Hutch. "You're allowed to speak right now, if you want. Up to three words."
"I love you."
A grin spread along the right side of Starsky's face. Then those lips were on his once again. Pressing. So wet and soft. Floating.... Melting... Floating away, all melted together....
The softest, warmest breath blowing across Hutch's face brought him back to reality. "I love you too, Hutch." Tender, whispered words. "That's the only reason all of this is happening today. And that's why we've got so much more to do."
Hutch relaxed against the back of the tub. No use arguing with Starsky's determination.
Starsky looked around and found a small bar of soap. He peeled off the wrapper, and dipped it into the water. "Scoot down more so I can reach your asshole."
Hutch avoided rolling his eyes. Anything you say, Mr. Romantic. He hunched down lower in the tub, tilted his lower body up slightly.
Starsky wet the soap again. And then Hutch felt the bar against his opening.
Starsky looked at Hutch's face while his hands worked. "You know what this means, don't you? Why I'm getting you all cleaned up and ready?"
Blood rushed through the veins of his dick.
"It means I'm very close to taking my pleasure from you. I can't wait to start enjoying myself. Just wish you woulda behaved and I coulda had the full thirty minutes. I'm still not very happy about that, Hutch."
Then give the twelve minutes back. His prick was already pointing toward the ceiling again.
"Maybe, to teach you to be good," a wash cloth down there now, "I'm going to have to keep a Hutch Diary. And in the Hutch Diary I'll keep Hutch Points. And every time you're good, which means doing exactly what I tell you, you'll get a Hutch Point. And then, on any given day, I'll decide how many accumulated Hutch Points it'll take to prove to me that you want my tongue up your ass."
Hutch dropped his head back and closed his eyes. God. I can have his tongue up my ass whenever I want. Life was impossibly good.
No, wait. That's not what he said. He said he decides each day whether there's enough points or not. Meaning it'll all come down to whether he feels like it or not. Moron.
"Okay." Extreme gentleness again. "We're all done except for one major cleaning chore. Left a big mess up here." Curiously, Hutch opened his eyes. It was just in time to see Starsky close his own eyes and press his tongue against Hutch's throat.
Oh, God. Starsky was licking up his own semen. But it wasn't hurried. Long, patient strokes of his tongue. He paused to say, "This is good practice, because it lets me get warmed up for doing your asshole. I'm going to do you just like this, Hutch." Looong stroke. Looong stroke. Then daft-dart-dart. Dart-dart-dart.
His balls ached. His prick was going to burst again. What was the point of them having sex together if neither of them ever got any relief?
Done with his neck now. Onto his chest. A careful moment cleaning up the left nipple where the semen had spurted. Extra time spent there, teeth barely nibbling.
Dear God... Maybe, when Starsky was finished with the cleanup, he'd keep going lower.... After all, Hutch still had his legs spread nicely for him, giving full access....
But, no, Starsky came up. A kiss now on his chin. Gentle lips brushing against his. Hutch opened his mouth, let the tongue come in, as he knew it would. Sucked on it gently. Tasted the strong muskiness of the emission.
Suddenly Starsky was out of the tub, reincarnated erection bobbing in the air. He ran a towel along his legs, then said, "All right, you beautiful blond. Stand up and get out."
Hutch did. A towel was there at his legs, drying them and then his buttocks.
"Lean against the wall."
Huh? Hutch bent at the waist and put both hands against the bathroom wall.
"Spread your legs. Real wide."
Oh, God. Any second his tongue's going up there. His legs were quivering.
But, no. It was a towel that touched him. Gently cupped his balls. The edge running along the crack of his ass. Toweled hand running along his fire....
Oh, God, I'm gonna explode.
"You're leaking like crazy, Hutch."
Tell me something I don't know.
Starsky dropped to his knees in front of him.
Dear God. I won't be able to stand it.
Took his throbbing length in hand.
I'm going to explode all over the earth. All over him.
Leaned forward and put his mouth on it.
Oh, dear God, I can feel the back of his tongue.
Held the shaft in his strong hands that wasn't enclosed by the moistness. Sucked against the underside....
Can't think, can't breathe....
Bobbed his head back and forth while gripping firmly with his hands.
Out of this world.....
One hand moving, reaching down to Hutch's balls, fondling....
Hutch's legs quivered as a deep masculine groan forced its way from his chest up through his mouth. His whole body shook as he ejaculated, and he quivered even more, knowing his emission was going down Starsky's throat.
Recovery was faster, and it was all he could do to keep his weight against the wall, instead of collapsing. And then his shriveled-up prick was cold.
"All right, Hutch." Soft, whispered words. "To the bedroom. My turn now."
Dazed, Hutch allowed Starsky to lead him out of the bathroom. But any further pleasure was impossible. He couldn't take it. Starsky had to know that. Except Starsky was in charge and now all he wanted to think about his own pleasure.
Not responsible for anything that happens. Including my own death from over-indulgence.
"Sit down on the bed."
Hutch did, gratefully. He watched Starsky take the two chairs from the table by the window and bring them to where Hutch was.
Hutch collapsed back onto the firm mattress.
Could fall asleep right here while he does whatever he wants with me. I can fake participation.
"Put your legs up on these chairs."
What? Dear God. Go along with it. Lazily, he lifted a leg and put it on the back of the chair. Then he put up the other one. Is this how women feel at the gynecologist?
"Move your ass closer to the edge, so I can get at it."
Asking a lot. Hutch pushed with his arms until he felt his tail bone at the edge. He settled back and gazed at the ceiling.
Starsky was standing over him, between his legs, grinning. "You're beautiful."
"And I love how your cock tastes."
Oh, God, don't start with that. He felt it twitch at the compliment.
"Be back in a sec." Starsky turned, bare ass disappearing into the bathroom.
Hutch expelled a deep breath. Hate it when he's cheerful and I'm exhausted.
Starsky came back out, grinning, watch in hand. He was messing with the dials. "I'm setting the alarm for eighteen minutes from now."
You're dealing with dead meat, buddy. I'm too far gone. You can rim me for two minutes or two hours and it's not going to matter.
Starsky placed the watch beside them on the bed. He knelt between Hutch's legs as Hutch closed his eyes.
Thumbs parted him. Wide. Warm breath blew across him, and he knew he reacted down there. Then moist softness touched the delicate skin, licked along it. Circled around.
Hutch tried to ignore it. But couldn't. He quivered and goosebumps flushed through him, the sensation intensifying as thumbs got a better grip at the center and parted him more. The tongue darted into the barrier of the bunched muscle.
And then it was gone. He opened his eyes and Starsky had pushed a button on the watch and then looked up at him. Starsky leaned over him. "So sensitive," he cooed in the most tender of voices. "You're so sensitive down there, Hutch."
Who isn't? And does he ever shut up?
"Incredibly sensitive." Starsky's hand ran slowly up his flanks. "I'm going to have to take extra special care in getting you ready for my prick when I fuck you. These eighteen minutes will help. But it'd be better if we'd had thirty."
Then take thirty.
"But you're fighting me, Hutch. Let me explain this to you again." Still so tender. "All you have to do is breathe in and breathe out. That's all, Hutch. You aren't responsible for anything happening to your asshole. You just breathe in and breathe out. And accept what happens to you. There's no effort involved."
Hutch closed his eyes and released a breath. He had no idea what Starsky was talking about. He was dead to the world and incapable of fighting. How could Starsky think he was fighting him?
"Oh, and Hutch? You aren't allowed to move. Make all the noise you want, but if you move a single centimeter, I'll stop completely. And I won't be very happy about that."
His eyes had barely drifted open when Starsky made a point of pushing another button on the watch, to start the timer again. And then he knelt.
Thumbs got a good grip, then pulled him apart, exposing him. That tongue went to work, lapping now. Looong stroke. Looong stroke. Then lapping quickly, making smacking noises.
Jesus God. He was quivering again, his prick getting interested.
Darting up just past the sphincter....
Too much. It was too much.... His asshole was involuntarily gripping the tongue, greedy for more.
His whole body was shaking. He wanted to thrash against the bed, but that wasn't allowed. All he was allowed to do was... accept it.
Hutch gave in. And cried out. Again and again and again.
* * *
The alarm sounded and Hutch gasped again. Suddenly, the tongue was gone. He was sweating profusely in the semi-darkness, the sun having set. Aftershocks were still ricocheting through the nerves of his entire body. His cries had been exhausted a long time ago and he'd been left whimpering instead. His cock throbbed even though another orgasm was totally out of the question, his balls were so empty.
The alarm stopped. Starsky put the watch down. He, too, looked exhausted. "You were a good boy, Hutch," he stated simply. "It finally sunk in what I meant about just breathing in and breathing out, and realizing you have nothing to do with anything that happens to you."
Abruptly, Starsky was on top of him, his hot erection poking into Hutch's middle. He looked haggard, breathless. "I've got to have some more of this." He tilted his head.
Hutch parted his lips eagerly. He, too, was exhausted, but he could never stop doing this, sharing this intimacy that had no overt sexual connections. Starsky was now holding his head with one hand, cradling him, while continuing to kiss with that mouth that had sent him to a delicious place he had never been before.
Starsky pulled back, now leaving his lips, going down his chest instead. Planting a kiss here, there....
Then Starsky straightened and released a heavy breath. This time, his voice was apologetic. "I gotta come again, `cause I'm too horny to get you ready for me." He got on his knees, and straddled Hutch. Then he reached past him. A moment later pillows were supporting Hutch's head.
That huge thing was pointed right at him.
"Open your mouth, Hutch."
He opened it.
"You know how I like it nice and wet."
Hutch worked up a good helping of spit. He ran his tongue along his dry lips, moistening them.
Tender hands rested in his hair, along his jaw. "Gonna work it in farther. And come in your mouth."
He felt strangely re-energized. He wished Starsky would let him milk that big thing. He was sure he would be good at it.
It was brought up to his mouth, and he opened wider for it. The smooth skin penetrated past his lips. That incredible thickness. The taut veins. The moisture at the tip as it pressed against the back of his throat, threatening his ability to breathe.
Accept it. Don't think.
"Move your tongue, Hutch."
Hard to suck, it took up so much room.
"'Kay," Starsky relented. "Gonna pull it back so just the head is in. Work the head, Hutch."
He whimpered with disappointment as it pulled back. But his wants did not matter. He closed around the head, lips wrapped around teeth. He put pressure against the sensitive underside behind the thick crown.
"Oh, my God." Starsky was panting now. Both his hands wrapped around the part that didn't fit comfortably.
"Milk it, Hutch."
He sucked it in, just the head. Continued using his tongue.
"Don't swallow it yet." Panting. Panting heavily. "Don't stop, Hutch. Don't stop."
And then Starsky was crying out, a low guttural sound, and only after that did Hutch feel a stream of fluid against the side of his mouth. Powerful taste. Don't swallow.
The sated flesh pulled back. Starsky collapsed onto an elbow. He spent a moment catching his breath, then stroked the side of Hutch's face with a feather touch. His lips fastened onto Hutch's and his tongue went crazy inside Hutch's mouth, trying to share. And then they ended up kissing leisurely.
"You can swallow now." Starsky seemed amused.
Hutch did. He ran his tongue along his teeth, while Starsky watched, then swallowed again.
"Ah, Hutch," Starsky panted, running his fingers along Hutch's lips. "My cock is crazy about your mouth. I'm crazy about your mouth."
Hutch grinned, glad that he'd made Starsky so happy.
Starsky sighed, almost reluctantly. "But we're moving on to even better things." He rose to his knees. "Gotta get you all ready for it."
A lamp was turned on over the bed, illuminating it. Hutch was aware that his legs were still perched up on the backs of the chairs. He thought he should move them, but it wasn't his responsibility so he didn't worry about it.
Starsky appeared between them with the tube of K-Y. He held up his middle finger and squeezed some of the runny substance onto it. Then the finger went below.
It probed at him, then pushed in. It worked around, just to the knuckle, stretching him outwardly. Hutch felt himself reacting to it, gripping it, the walls of his asshole quivering as the finger explored him.
After a few minutes Hutch realized that Starsky was only partially erect, and he wondered how it was going to get hard enough again. Not my responsibility.
The finger pushed in farther, his sphincter noting the second knuckle. The walls of his rectum reacted to the additional penetration. His muscle flexed convulsively, trying to draw it in farther.
Jesus God, I want all of him up my ass. That gigantic cock, and the rest of him, too. Tear me open, buddy. Put your entire self inside me.
Withdrawing. Pausing for more application of lubricant. Then greasy fingers pulling at the outer rim of his asshole, stretching it out. And then two fingers going inside there.
He grunted from the pressure.
Starsky looked up, but he kept working. Fingers wriggling around in that tight space.
Another pause. More lubricant. Three fingers now. Hutch whimpered as they pushed through the bunched muscle. It felt uncomfortable the way they bowed outward, stretching his insides. And then they pushed upward and a jolt of pleasure raced through his body. He thought he made a noise at the same time.
"What?" Starsky asked, pausing. "This?" He worked the fingers again, behind Hutch's testicles. And Hutch let his head fall back, and a low moan escaped his lips.
The fingers slowed, moved more deliberately. "I'm going to ask a question and you can answer either yes or no. Does this feel good?" Fingers massaged along his upper tract.
The fingers stayed there. Before long, Hutch was whimpering again. The fingers of the other hand were still stimulating the outer part of his asshole - poking and stretching and stroking and pulling.
He would have gotten a hard-on, but his dick was dead.
And then everything was removed, leaving him feeling numb and empty.
"All right." Starsky was panting as he straightened. He lifted Hutch's right leg from the chair. "We don't need these anymore."
Hutch's leg swung heavily to the floor, and it was a relief to rest it. A moment later, the other one followed.
Starsky pushed the chairs away. "Get on your knees on the floor."
It didn't occur to him to even question the command. He knelt on the carpet in front of the bed, facing Starsky.
"Open your mouth."
Starsky laid a gentle hand in his hair, guiding his erection with the other. His voice was tight with arousal. "Gotta get me all nice and hard so I can fuck you proper. You know how my prick loves your wet mouth."
Despite Starsky's obvious level of arousal, the thick flesh wasn't as hard as the other two times. "Just let it rest in there, where it's nice and wet."
It went to the back of his throat again. And stayed there.
"I can't even get it all the way inside your mouth, Hutch. But the whole thing is going up your ass."
"That's what I was thinking about a few minutes ago. My fingers feeling all around the inside of your ass, and I'm thinking my big cock is going to get to feel all those things real soon. And it's going to reach up inside there a lot farther than my fingers did."
The hard flesh throbbed as Starsky talked.
"My prick is going to own you, Hutch."
Oh, God. Sweat broke out across his forehead.
Starsky pulled the huge thickness from his mouth. "Get the lubricant."
Hutch looked over his shoulder and saw the tube on the bed. He picked it up.
"Squeeze it all along the top of my cock."
Hutch's hand trembled as he brought it up to that thick, bold flesh. He turned the tube upside down, squeezing a stream along the entire length.
"Take your fingertips and rub it around. My whole dick has to be covered, Hutch, or it'll never make it up inside your ass."
Have to do a good job so the whole thing can be inside of me.
He touched it near the base, reverently. He circled his fingertips around, spreading the lubricant, being so careful. It was the biggest mass of flesh he'd ever seen in his life. And it was so ready. Hot and hard and ready for him.
He was halfway up the barrel. Starsky said, "Spread it all the way back to the hairs. Because even the part way back there is going to be up inside you."
Oh, my God.
Hutch gulped. He spread the slippery gel all the way back to the pubic hairs. His whole body quivered as he moved his fingers underneath and treated the lower half the same... feeling the very top of the scrotal pouch.
If only he'd let me feel his nuts.... So tempting to be disobedient. Focus. Obey. He was now back to working it towards the crown.
Determined words. "My cock is going to marry us, Hutch."
Though his fingers stayed focused, Hutch skipped a breath.
"There aren't going to be any vows because none are needed. You don't have a voice, anyway. You don't have a choice. This is what's going to happen between us because I said so."
Hutch's fingers trembled as he stroked the gel over the ridge. Maybe this isn't a game, after all. He sounds so serious. Wants to marry me.... His heart fluttered and threatened to take flight from his chest.
Wants to marry me whether I want to or not.
He was breathing harshly, fingers shaking as they worked with the ultra smooth crown.
Taking me. Kidnapping me against my will. Because I have no will, because he took it away. Going to make this happen between us, so I can't protest. So I can't find reasons for it not to. As though he knew I'd find reasons....
"Kiss the tip."
Hutch's fingers stopped. He'd covered the crown except for the very tip, which was leaking fluid.
He bent and kissed it, tasting that harsh flavor. Felt the incredible heat on his tongue.
Heavy breath, then, "Put more on the head."
He reached for the tube.
"Because that's the part that's going to pave the way up inside your ass."
Digging my own grave, Hutch decided as he squeezed more gel onto that glistening smoothness. That huge thing was going to hurt. Probably even more than when he'd hurt Starsky, despite all the careful preparations. Does he understand that it won't matter? Like when I did him, will he go ahead and fuck me even if I cry out? Will he understand how much I want it?
"Make sure the tip is covered."
Hutch squeezed a dollop of gel onto his fingertip and rubbed it across the very tip.
Softer voice now, though very tight. "I'm going to fuck you, Hutch. Stand up."
Hutch stood on shaky legs.
Starsky moved to the bed and took the pillows. He tossed them on top of each other in the center of the bed. Then stood to one side. "Lay facedown and drape your ass over those."
Hutch got on the bed on all fours, then collapsed on top of the mound. He squirmed until he thought his ass was in the highest possible position.
"Spread your legs real wide."
Oh, God.... He spread them, feeling them quiver. Rested his cheek against the mattress. A virgin awaiting sacrifice.
The bed rocked. A limb brushed against his leg. The dip of the mattress told him Starsky was in between his widely spread thighs.
Steel-hard, moist heat laid along the crack of his ass. Weight resting there. Hands massaged up his bare back, then into his hair, tenderly rubbing.
"I'm going to fuck you, Hutch." Trembling voice.
"It's going to hurt, Hutch."
"There's nothing you can do about either of those things."
"I'm going to marry us, Hutch. And there's nothing you can do about that, either."
His eyes watered. I love you.
A kiss in the center of his back. Now a cheek resting there. "Love you." Breathless. "So much."
Then fuck me good.
The heat left his crack. A hand pulled his ass cheek aside.
Oh, God. What if he didn't live long enough to see this night reach its conclusion?
Thick, steel-hard heat covered his asshole. Neither the smallness nor the tightness of the opening was going to stop it. He'd been too obedient and made it hard enough and slippery enough that it would do what Starsky wanted.
Not my responsibility.
His eyes watered.
A grunt from Starsky, then a lunge. A searing explosion of pain as Hutch's sphincter was ripped open. He gasped, but lay there, letting it happen. Huge mass replacing the space there....
A deep grunt from Starsky. Heavy breaths. Effort of lunging again.
Hutch cried out helplessly as it forced more of him open. A tear splashed onto his cheek.
Momentary relief as it seemed to draw back, but then it pushed in farther with an even deeper grunt from Starsky. Cramping up his rectum. Hutch choked out another soft cry.
Snaking back... stimulating his sphincter.... Then shoving in even deeper.
He cried out again.
No relief from the pressure. He could feel the effort Starsky made to push the rest of it in. His whole ass was on fire, spread so impossibly wide.
Starsky grunted heavily, then released a tight sound of bliss.
Eventually, there was silence, except their panting. The pain ebbed inside Hutch. It only hurt at the opening. And there was nothing he could do about it but lie there and try to get his breath. Which was difficult with Starsky's weight upon his back, hot exhalations tickling Hutch's shoulder blade.
After long moments, Starsky began to move. He stroked Hutch's hair. So tenderly. Brushed the side of his face with a feather touch.
The huge thickness pulled back, and Hutch was suddenly aware of every square millimeter. Only this time, it wasn't pain he noticed, but the way that weight pressed against his privates.
It pushed in again. Heavy weight massaging the back of his testicles as it passed over that area. Oh.
Pulled back. Jesus. Pushed in. Man. Pulled back....
He whimpered this time.
Pause, as though taking time to decipher what it meant.
Push forward again. Incredible. It would never be enough to make him come again, but it titillated his entire lower region in the most wonderful way.
Pulled back... and he realized he'd whimpered again.
No pause this time. Faster motion. Pumping more earnestly.
No room to think. Pulling back almost as soon as it was finished pushing forward. No break from the waves of pleasure. Constant motion. So beautiful....
He cried out softly, for his exhausted vocal chords were incapable of anything further.
Starsky obviously had no such problem. He was yelling in time with each stroke, as he was reaching his own level of ecstasy.
Pounding harder... the noise and feel of sturdy flanks smacking against upraised buttocks... Ball sac slapping against his own.... Bed rocking with the harsh motion.
Asshole so sore.... But his tract dancing with stimulation... his balls tight....
Starsky cried out repeatedly now, smacking harder against Hutch, grabbing Hutch's shoulders to brace against.
And then an ear-splitting cry... shallower motion...
...And then suddenly no cry at all, but an incomprehensible masculine noise... the unmistakable signal for Hutch that Starsky was filling up his gut.
Ridiculous satisfaction in knowing he'd accepted emissions both up his ass and down his throat. That they would meet somewhere within his body.
Heavy weight on his back. Desperate gasping for air. Incomprehensible little noises of waning ecstasy.
Then a sudden grunt, as though Starsky realized life still existed and he was one of its inhabitants.
Raising up... getting off of Hutch....
The non-threatening thickness snaked backwards, then slipping out.
Ouch. His asshole was so sore.
Numbness. Emptiness. Exhaustion. Drifting peacefully....
Groans of continuing sensation. Bed rocking, then still. Heavy, staggering footsteps on a plush carpet. Sound of a light switch. Slight illumination from the bathroom area behind him.
Faucet running. Deep clearing of throat. Heavy, blissful sigh.
Satisfaction in knowing that Starsky had enjoyed fucking him.
Hutch drifted, eyes closing against the darkness of the distant window. He felt chilly, but it wasn't his concern.
Long silence now, except for the water. Then it was turned off. Soft sound of clothing. A snap. Maybe a zipper being pulled together.
The door opening... then clicking shut....
Hutch blinked. Did Starsky leave?
He held his breath, listening.
He swallowed. A deep sense of foreboding descended over him.
Is he...upset? How could he be? Especially making all the blissful noises afterwards. Or is it more of the game? Testing him? Maybe coming back and laughing at him for still having his bare, mutilated ass raised in the air?
No. Be obedient. Show Starsky how good he can be. Risk the humiliation if it turns out Starsky quit playing as soon as he came.
Hutch closed his eyes at the thought. Incredible. The sensations of Starsky's huge cock up his ass. Massaging him from the inside. If only they could find some way of bypassing the pain of getting that huge thing in there in the first place. Of course, between the two, he'd opt for the pain and pleasure, rather than having neither. After all, Starsky had tolerated that pain....
Starsky, where are you?
Maybe hungry. But there's room service.
What if he's never coming back?
No. Impossible. His Starsky would never speak those words about love and marriage, and then up and abandon him.
Hutch felt a twisting mixture of warmth and sadness. So much effort Starsky had gone through for him tonight. But how could he up and leave like that?
He shivered. It wasn't from the thoughts in his head. He was feeling a genuine chill from the sweat cooling on his body.
Should cover up....
But that was for Starsky to decide.
Where are you?
He swallowed and realized he was thinking too much and Starsky would disapprove. Instead, he focused on the darkness of the window and let himself drift. So tired... Dizzy almost. Weak.
A key in the lock.
He gasped. Please, not a maid. No, surely not at this hour.
The door opened behind him.
Please be Starsky.
Door closing. Soft, rapid feet on the carpet. A lamp coming on behind him.
Weight on the bed. A gentle hand on his shoulder.
Something opening. A tin box?
Other noises. A squeeze on his shoulder. Tender voice. "Easy does it, Hutch."
Easy does it? What's going on?
"Bear with me a moment." Sound of paper tearing. A hand on his ass. Gentle parting of his lower ass cheek. Something moist wiped against the extreme soreness there.
He flinched and sucked in a breath.
"Eaaaasy now." It wiped again.
He gasped and felt his eyes water. Accept it. He couldn't change whatever Starsky was doing. He let his body relax.
"That's a good boy." Not teasing, but soothing. Hands leaving him. More noises. "This is probably going to sting." A sympathetic squeeze along his side.
He didn't bother bracing himself. Wetness touched him and needle points of pain exploded along his asshole. Tears spilled from his eyes. He was aware of an antiseptic odor permeating the room.
He went down to the lobby and got a first aid kit. After seeing the blood in the bathroom.
"You're okay, Hutch." Another gentle squeeze.
It was good to hear the words, for he'd felt a momentary panic building, wondering what kind of condition he was in. Poor Starsk. But the pity was also momentary, for Starsky sounded sure of himself and not guilty.
"Maybe this'll help, too."
Hutch wondered what further pain there was going to be. He managed not to brace himself as his buttock was pulled aside once again. This time thick grease touched him. Vaseline? Again pain as fingers pressed against his tender region, but it was soothing as the grease was spread. And reassuring now that the area was now lubricated against further abrasion.
The box closed. The mattress shifted. Tender hands moved along his back, gently gripping. "Here, let's get you off of this."
Starsky tugged a pillow from beneath Hutch.
Move legs. It seemed a nearly impossible task, they were so stiff. But Starsky was helping, gently lifting and moving his limbs, then pulling back the covers on the bed. He placed pillows where they were meant to go.
It was very slow going, but Hutch was finally in bed, the covers drawn up to his shoulder. He was still facing the window. In fact, he hadn't looked at Starsky since.... since getting him ready for me. How much worse would it have been if they hadn't used so much lubricant?
The light went off and the room was dark. Sound of a zipper. A moment later the bed rocked. And then a warm nude body was up against his back, an arm circling around him protectively.
Okay to sleep now. Except... he sensed that Starsky needed reassurance. Needed to know that Hutch was okay about everything that had gone on this momentous day.
He was so tired. But he had to make the effort. Even without the order to do so. Hutch staggered up on an elbow and felt Starsky's grip loosen. He managed to pull his other elbow up, so it could also take his weight, and for a moment he was facing the pillow. And then he managed to twist to the opposite side, collapsing back to the mattress, now facing Starsky.
Fingers immediately fanned out along his face, spilling into his hair.
"Mm," Starsky said, as though that touch were exactly what he needed. There was shifting around, gentle rocking of the bed, and then Hutch was curled up with his head resting against Starsky's side, strong arms around him.
* * *
Hutch was facing the window again when he first awoke. Judging from the amount of light it might have been a few hours after daybreak. He was completely comfortable and knew that he had no cares now that life consisted of just sleeping and fucking. Pleasing Starsky.
He drifted back to sleep.
* * *
When he awoke again it was because a warm body was against his back, an arm feeling up the front of his body to his chest. The arm left him a moment, and when it returned the fingers were wet with spit, and they fondled his nipple.
He couldn't deny it was a tantalizing sensation, and when Starsky's arm stretched to the lower nipple, Hutch became aware of a hot, huge thickness against his ass.
It did not matter if he wanted it or not. Starsky would take it from him, anyway. Obligingly, he brought his knee up toward his chest. It was going to hurt even more than last night, because he was so sore, but the memory of that weight massaging behind his balls created a hard-on of his own. And the only way to adapt to the size of that thing was to be fucked more.
Once he moved his leg, the hot cylinder found his opening. Starsky whimpered a little, squeezed the nipple between his fingers, and then turned away from Hutch, as though reaching back. Hutch felt Starsky manipulating the tube of ointment.
Starsky settled back behind him. Hutch closed his eyes, expecting to feel his asshole worked with. But, instead, a hand took his prick in a firm, masculine grip.
Mmmmmm. That felt tremendously good. Starsky had hardly even touched him there yesterday. That grip was sure and strong, tugging up his barrel, making him lengthen. There was slippery moisture on his sensitive skin, for Starsky's hand was full of gel. Spreading it.
???? What was Starsky's doing? Getting his cock all lubricated.
Did Starsky want to get fucked?
Hutch opened his eyes to watch Starsky actions. That hand stroked him, making his hard-on glisten. Fluid leaked at the tip.
He hadn't expected Starsky to be willing to do it again for a long, long time. He was ready for Starsky to fuck him, and Starsky's prick obviously wanted to; but Starsky wanted something else.
A quiver raced up Hutch's spine.
"That's my eager Hutch." Gentle words. One last stroke, and then Starsky knelt. "Roll over onto your back."
Hutch obeyed. Starsky was pushing the covers out of the way. Then he grinned at Hutch. He picked up the tube of gel and squeezed it out onto his fingers. Then, spreading his knees apart, he reached behind himself with his coated hand.
Goddddd, Hutch silently groaned. What if he fainted first? His eager flesh was flaring like crazy, showing that it was still alive and healthy, even after being overworked the previous day.
Arrogant rascal. Starsky was posturing for him. Closing his eyes and panting as he played with his own asshole.
I ought to slam him against the wall. Fuck him standing up. Or bend him over a chair. Fuck him clear through to Kingdom Come. How dare he look like that while he plays with himself.
Starsky's huge cock jutted out from his groin.
Hutch felt sympathy now. Surprised he doesn't want to get blown first. Not that that thing of his can fit very well in my mouth. He really wanted to work on that. Get better at it. Make himself take it. Shove it down my throat and make me accept it.
Starsky removed his hand from his body. His hair was messed up, his eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, his flesh rock hard. He approached Hutch.
Hutch's mouth fell open as that hard body straddled his chest, the tip of that huge organ bobbing near his throat. Just give the order and I'll milk it dry. I'm already salivating like Pavlov's dogs.
But, instead, his own prick was taken in a firm hand. Starsky was leaning forward, then rocking back as he pulled on Hutch, trying to guide the stiff erection to where it belonged.
Since he wasn't allowed to do anything, Hutch laid there and watched in fascination. The head of his cock was now pressed against Starsky's anus. Starsky filled his lungs up with air. And then, as he released it, he lowered himself.
Jesus God Almighy. Moist tightness pushing down on the skin of his prick....
Starsky letting go now and making no effort to control the movement. Just letting gravity take over and sinking into a sitting position.
Sitting on Hutch.
Hutch couldn't believe Starsky had done that. Just taken it. Starsky's eyes were open wide, watering, and he was panting, but he had taken it.
God, I love you.
Hutch wanted to thrust more than anything, but Starsky's weight didn't allow it Starsky grinned. "Too bad I can't lean down and kiss you without losing my place. You look awfully damn kissable, Hutch. Gonna have to make up for it afterwards."
Oh, yes.... Kiss me forever afterwards.
"'Kay. This is what we're gonna do."
No more games, pleeeease.
"I'm gonna rotate around - "
Rotate??? Breathe... breathe...
"—until I'm facing the other way. And then, real careful, I'm gonna rock forward until I'm on my hands and knees. Hutch, it's real important that you stay with me when I do that. I'll be awfully disappointed if your cock slips out."
No, no. I'll be a very good boy. I'm gonna stay all the way up inside your ass, just like I am right now.
"You ought to see your face, Hutch. You're so transparent."
Ha, ha. I'm going to fuck you clear through to Kingdom Come, you insolent imp.
Starsky closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Then he moved his legs and grimaced and slowly rotated his body.
Jesus, God. Like a steady wash machine rotating around my prick. Hutch was now facing Starsky's back and saw the bruise from the bathtub faucet.
"Stay with me, Hutch." Panting, Starsky started to move forward.
Hutch thrust just as Starsky started to rise. God! So good. Hutch pushed with his legs the same time Starsky did, and landed heavily on his partner's back. But he was still partway inside, and Starsky was on his hands and knees.
Starsky wriggled, spread his legs wide, stimulating Hutch's prick. "Fuck me, Hutch."
He didn't need to be told twice. Hutch pulled back a little, then slammed in. Oh, yes. This was nice. This was damn nice. Back... and forth. Back... and forth. Tight walls massaging him. Pulling back a long ways because he liked the feel of that tight sphincter, then slamming back in, driving his cock inside Starsky, smooth and deep.
Ah, man. Starsky was good. Starsky was being so good. Even though the bed rocked as Hutch slammed his ass, Starsky's strong legs were well braced so that he took the thrust every time, and didn't fall forward. Holding himself still so Hutch could get the deepest possible penetration.
Damn nice. Perfect. The fuck of my life.
Noises now. Little grunts from Starsky. Then high-pitched cries. Hutch knew what those meant.
Starsky balanced on one hand, still taking those powerful thrusts, and grabbed his own cock, then stroked himself fervently.
Ah, yes, partner. This is what I can do for you. It doesn't have to be like last time.
Heady, that Starsky was trying to come while getting his ass fucked.
No, not just trying. Hutch realized from the noises Starsky was making and how fast his hand was working that it was going to happen.
Jesus God. He wanted to time it just right. Fuck Starsky properly until the last possible moment.
He waited for the cry. And then pulled out.
With Starsky's legs being spread so wide, Hutch had a full view as the tight testicles contracted, asshole flexing convulsively. Talk about being transparent....
Another time he'd stay inside and feel all those muscular contractions around his cock. But this time he wanted to see. See Starsky shooting his cream along his hand, which had now slowed almost to a stop. Starsky, flushed from his climax, was sighing deeply, as though he might collapse.
Wait, partner. I'm not done yet.
Hutch mounted him again. Drove his cock up inside in one smooth stroke. He wasn't surprised when, weak from the orgasm, Starsky's upper body collapsed to the mattress. No matter. Hutch grabbed his shoulders and braced against them to drive himself in deeper. Two desperate strokes triggered his own release. He yelled as his body shuddered, wanting the whole world to know the beauty of it.
He waited until he was totally drained, until his cock had no sensation left. Then he haggardly pushed his weight from his arms to his knees and withdrew. He collapsed beside Starsky.
After a time, Hutch was aware of Starsky's recovering, shifting to sit up. Then, breathlessly, "I woulda been making use of your talents years ago if I'd known it was going to be like that."
Make use of? Yes, use me, use me.
"Come up here." Gentle now. Hutch moved up to Starsky's side where his arm was outstretched, waiting. He pressed his head against his lover's shoulder.
"It's only about noon. We've still got six hours that I can spend kissing you properly."
Oh, God, yes.
Starsky's lips touched his, creating that incredible feeling of melting together. Of floating away. This all somehow so much more of a sharing between them than any of the other stuff.
Starsky's tongue licked at his lips, parting them, then gently sucked on his tongue. One hand casually rubbing up and down Hutch's arm, the other against his chest. Loved and protected and cared for. He had been born for the sole purpose of pleasing Starsky. Now, at the age of thirty-five, he was finally realizing his potential. Whether or not he fulfilled his potential all depended upon how many hours a day Starsky would make use of him.
They parted, but were still close together. Hutch let his eyes drift open and saw Starsky looking at him lazily.
"We're gonna have a real problem, Hutch."
What? How dare Starsky speak of problems when all they had left to do in life was sleep and fuck.
His partner straightened in the bed, then settled back against the pillows. "The way I figure it, at least once every twelve hours, my cock is going to want to be either down your throat or up your ass. That's gonna take some big-time planning."
Your problem, Hutch thought defiantly. You're the one in charge. (Every twelve hours....)
"Let's see." Starsky was rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, and Hutch realized that the kissing was on hold for awhile. He settled back on his own pillows beside Starsky. "We might be able to find an alley. And I can drive into it and tell you to get out of the car and drop your pants, and bend over the hood of the Torino."
Jesus, God. His balls started churning. Does he ever shut up?
"And I shove my huge prick up into you and drive you onto the hood of the car. And the hood's all hot from being in the sun, and so you arch back against me to get away from the hot hood, and I slam you onto it again, because I don't realize that it's hot. And I think I'm getting the fuck of my life, because you keep pushing yourself back onto me."
Don't you wish. Arrogant ass. If I ever get a chance to put you over my knee....
"That's one way of getting my fuck during the day. Let's see.... Oh, remember that carpentry shop on Fifth and Lincoln? They have all those sawhorses. In the summer, they let everybody go at four o'clock. So, after the place is closed down, I drive us over there and we get inside. And I tell you to drop your pants and bend over one of the sawhorses."
Oh, dear God....
"You've been bad again, Hutch, and I have to straighten you out. So, I tie your feet to the sawhorse and your hands to your ankles. So, you're all bent over that sawhorse, awaiting your punishment. And I get down on my knees behind you and drive my tongue up into you."
Almighty God. He was getting hard again.
"I've got you tied so tight you can't even wiggle. You just have to take it."
"And, then, say, we're going to Huggy's to meet another snitch with information. Only, that's what you think we're doing, because I can't ever let you know anything that's going on, or you'll be bad and start thinking about it. So, anyway, we get there and Huggy tells us the meeting room is ready, go on in. So, we go back there and no one else is there and it's pitch black. I tell you to drop to your knees. And you're there on your knees, in the dark, being a good little Hutch. Your mouth hanging open, waiting to service me, waiting for me to give it to you. You listen to me unzip my fly and drop my pants. Your mouth is watering like crazy, drooling at the corners, while you wait for it. But what I really do is bend over and spread my ass cheeks. And then I tell you to put to your tongue to work. Your tongue has to search around in the dark for my asshole."
Hutch closed his eyes and groaned out loud. It occurred to him that, despite all the mingling of body parts the past day, Starsky had never demanded his tongue.
His cock was moving beneath the covers, thickening. Yes, yes, make me do it. Tell me to get on my knees and drive my tongue up in there. Make me lick it and tease it and suck on it. Make me make you crazy. Give yourself permission to be crazy.
That was the beauty of the ass lick Starsky had given him. No shame or embarrassment. No effort on his part. Just lay there and get stimulated. It was, perhaps, the purest form of pleasure that there was.
Make me do it, buddy. Make me do it. My life means nothing if I can't be pleasing you every moment of every day.
He looked over at Starsky, trying to show his eagerness. But the groan must have already given him away, because Starsky had leaned over to the nightstand to look at the bedside clock. Almost tantalizingly, he noted, "Still have five hours." He sat back and looked up at the ceiling, an arm folded behind his head.
Why does he have to think about it? I want to do it. I want to do it so bad my mouth is watering.
Risking disobedience, Hutch ran his soppy tongue along Starsky's ribcage. See? See how much I want to do it.
Starsky raised his head and looked at him in surprise. Hutch stared back defiantly.
And then Starsky went all soft. He shifted to get on top of Hutch....
Oh, yes. What's going to happen to me now? Have I been bad?
Starsky's fingers massaged along Hutch's hairline. Then that tender face came closer, and lips were upon his.
"Mmmm." It was so delicious, this gentle tasting of each other.
Starsky held Hutch's face and stroked his cheek. His eyes grew very intense, but his voice was soft. "I love you so very, very, very much."
Ohhh.... Hutch swallowed, wanted to say something very badly.
Starsky's voice was exceedingly gentle. "You can say anything you need to say."
Hutch opened his mouth to say something. But "I love you, too" was too trite. Didn't even begin to cover it. So he said nothing.
Starsky smiled tenderly and kissed his nose. Then his forehead. Then he got on an elbow and looked between their bodies.
Hutch's erection had softened with the tenderness. But now it throbbed, knowing Starsky was looking. He was sure his love was thinking about a blow job to relieve the pressure, but he hadn't washed up since fucking Starsky earlier.
Starsky groaned reluctantly and kissed Hutch again, running his fingers reverently along his mouth. Then he sat back. "We both need a shower."
* * *
More reverence as Starsky soaped and washed him. Carefully handled his balls. Then guided the showerhead to rinse him off good. "Get out and dry off."
Hutch did. While Starsky tended to his own cleansing, Hutch ran a towel over his body. He couldn't help but remember what had happened yesterday afternoon. When Starsky had dried him. Had told him to lean against the wall and spread `em. Delivered an incredible blow job. How would he do it this time?
Starsky got out, took a towel. "Go out and sit in a chair and spread your legs."
Always something new. Hutch realized he was having a hard time taking in enough air as he went to one of the chairs. He turned it around, facing the bathroom, and sat in it. The seat was cool against his buttocks. He looked down at his prick, watched it harden as he waited, imaging wet suction....
Starsky emerged, still drying. He grinned. "Aren't you a sight for a hungry mouth." Hutch held his breath. Not going to last if he's going to behave like that.
The towel was tossed aside, revealing a partial erection. Starsky came toward the chair, his manhood bobbing in the air.
Starsky grinned down at him, then said tenderly. "Have to start up at the top." His finger settled beneath Hutch's chin, pointing it up. Then lips. Beautiful lips.
They released his mouth to kiss down... down.... Down his throat.... Down to his chest. Pausing to pay homage to each little nipple. Kissing down his center to his belly button. Swabbing there.
Hutch flinched. Tickles.
Down to the softness of his belly. The wiriness of his pubic hairs.
Starsky looked up. Eyes so bright. "Keep your arms at your sides, Hutch."
Why? He wanted to pet Starsky. Pet and love him. Especially now....
Starsky enclosed him, warm wet mouth on his waiting flesh. Best way to shut him up. Now there was an idea.
Hutch spread his legs wider, slumped back in the chair. Oh, yes. That mouth had most of him. Sucking on him. Hand holding him at the base of his prick. Beautiful, beautiful mouth. Dark head bent over him. Beautiful lover. So giving and generous.
Pushing farther onto his shaft, taking more of it, feeling the back of Starsky's mouth....
He jolted when the feeling came. Whimpered. And that was all. No strength for anything else. Hardly any cum left to reward Starsky with. But such a sweet feeling....
He sighed airily.
Starsky released him. Kissed the top. Then stood up, bent forward....
Their ritual. Inviting Hutch's tongue in to taste. Such a familiar flavor to him. So much more enjoyable when shared within Starsky's mouth.
"Mmm," Starsky said as he pulled back.
Yes. Now what was he going to want to do? Starsky had a thick erection.
"Get on your knees, Hutch. Facing the bed."
Oh, yes. What he was going to do to Starsky. He wanted to do it so good. Do such a good job. He slid off the chair and knelt before the mattress.
Starsky sat on the bed. He grabbed the pillows. "Let's try it like this." He piled the pillows near the edge of the bed, then lay back on top of them, so that his ass was thrust in the air. His spread feet were barely able to rest on the mattress edge. Then he relaxed back with a sigh of finality. "Do anything you want, Hutch."
Almost apologetic, as though he's not really sure I want to do it. Stupid ass. Of course, I want to do it. It'll please him so much. Doesn't he realize the point of my whole life is to please him?
Hutch moved closer to the edge of the mattress. Grabbed the dual hemispheres with his hands. Parted them. Bent forward. Dipped his tongue.
Starsky reacted, made a noise.
Yes. Please you. Stroked with his tongue at that wrinkled opening. It was swollen from where he'd fucked it this morning. Amazing, knowing that his big prick had pushed through that tight space.
Lick it now. Lick. Lick. Dart. Dart.
Starsky purred like a cat.
You don't know the half of it, buddy boy. He spread the cheeks wider, drooled around the edges of the bunched muscle. Licked with his pointed tongue, delighting in the way the orifice flexed from his attentions.
"Oh!" Hot little cry.
Yes, love. Hutch blew on it now. Drying it. Watched it wink at him. Then, so carefully, he slowly pulled back the outer skin with a finger, then licked at the inner edge with his rigid tongue.
A deep gasp rewarded him.
Darting at the inner edge now. Darting. Darting. Feeling the body in his hands shudder and quiver.
Yes. You like that, don't you?
Pushed his tongue in. Frustrated that it wouldn't go very far. Please, God, make my tongue long enough to taste myself inside there. Put his lips up against the opening and sucked on the tender, swollen skin.
Starsky cried out and thrashed.
Hold still, lover. He took a better grip on those rounded buttocks. Let me love you properly.
Starsky pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
Yes, love, make yourself more accessible to me.
Sweeping tongue again. From the bottom up. Sweep. Sweep. Feel him shudder.
Wet his tongue. Dip his head back down there and run his sopping tongue clockwise all along the outer rim, feeling the wrinkles. Then counterclockwise.
A gasp choked off a noise between a scream and a sob.
Take it, lover. Take it.
Hutch sucked in the excess saliva, then held on tight, because Starsky was trying to buck. Blow on it. Dry it all out. His stiff tongue worked at the inner walls of Starsky's opening. He used his fingers and tried to open it wider. Stuck tongue up there. Moved it back and forth, left and right, then thrust it forwards and backwards.
More gasping, intermingled with noises of disbelief.
He's giving in, like a good boy.
He kissed it, making smacking noises. Licked it. Swept across it. Circled to the left, then around the other way. Blew on it. Then darted up inside. Swept around the inside. Felt Starsky shake and shudder in a way he hadn't before.
Now he's let go. That's my Starsky.
Hutch felt goosebumps all over Starsky's body.
Nobody else in the world is ever going to make him feel like this.
Reward him for being so good. Lick. Even strokes. Let him relax. Let him think this is all that's left. Let that flexing muscle grip that tongue every now and then to reward it.
He's breathing nice and even. Now shorten the strokes. Push inside. Hear those sounds of disbelief. Withdraw to the swollen rim. Kiss all around it. Then lick quietly. Short strokes. Attend to each wrinkle, one by one. Listen to him sob.
Wide sweeping tongue again. Taste all of him. Then suck on the center of his hole and feel the goosebumps. Listen to the cries. Bring up fingers and try to open him wider. Make tongue long and stiff and force it up in there.
"Stop!" Desperate cry.
Hutch straightened, breathing hard.
Panting, Starsky reached with an arm above his head, felt around the bed. He picked up the K-Y. "Give me your right hand." Breathless.
Puzzled, Hutch held out his hand. Starsky's huge erection looked utterly painful.
Starsky managed to sit up enough to hold Hutch's hand at the wrist while also squeezing gel along his middle finger. Still gasping for breath, he rubbed the gel around the finger. Then he collapsed back on the bed. "Listen good."
STILL giving orders? Starsky, don't you ever shut up?
"My prick's on fire."
"I want you to put that finger in me, and fuck me with it while you suck the head of my cock." Heavy breath. "Won't take much to finish me." He eyes almost rolled back into their sockets. "Then I'll be dead."
No, not dead, buddy. Rejuvenated. After numerous orgasms in twenty-four hours' time, Hutch felt better than he ever had in his life. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't have a hard-on. But he was no less eager to please.
Already, his mouth was filling with saliva.
He pulled one buttock aside, then pushed his finger into that wet opening with one long, smooth stroke.
Starsky made a sound of approval.
He likes that. He pushed farther, then pulled it almost all the way out.
Twisted it back and forth.
A cry of delight.
Oh, yes, love.
"Suck my dick." Breathless.
Hutch leaned over that giant phallus. Fucking Starsky with his finger, he lowered his wet mouth on top of the swollen crown and took it between his lips, just past the ridge.
He sucked. Twisted his finger. Ass muscles gripped him. The hard cock swelled even more in his mouth. He bobbed his head on it.
Hutch pushed his finger in, toward the ceiling and felt that special little gland that made ass fucking so enjoyable.
Starsky sobbed in delight.
Yes, buddy. I'm fucking you and sucking you at the same time. Sending you to heaven.
Starsky's legs spread wider, allowing him to ride Hutch's finger more freely. Allowing his prick to slide back and forth in that wet cavern.
Then he exploded. Only, this was more an exhalation of exhausted bliss. His ass muscles still tightened around Hutch's finger in a way Hutch found very satisfying. And the tip of massive flesh delivered a small helping of fluid. Then Starsky simply closed his eyes.
Hutch withdrew his finger, wiped it off, and curled up beside Starsky, still tasting the flavor of him. Sleeping and fucking. That was the only life they knew.
* * *
Hutch didn't understand why they weren't staying. Then they could sleep until the middle of the night, fuck, and still leave early enough in the morning to be on time for their shift.
But Starsky said they were leaving and Hutch had no say. As he dressed in his jeans and a fresh shirt, he found himself wondering how they'd gotten from point A to points B, C, D, and beyond.
"What's on your mind?" Starsky asked gently, coming to stand in front of him. He now had the duffel bag packed.
Hutch wet his lips, hoping he wasn't going to disrupt the mood between them. "That first time... when I did it to you... why did you want me to stop?"
Starsky let go a deep breath. "Things were kinda crazy that night, Hutch."
"But mainly it was because you pulled my hair. That hurt."
"I didn't want you to do that again."
"I only did it," Hutch rushed to explain, "because I thought you needed something else to get to your anger." He shook his head, wanting to make sure Starsky understood. "It wasn't a turn-on for me, or anything like that."
Starsky shrugged. "Thought it was sorta outta character."
And, needing to make sure, "You didn't like the fucking, did you?"
"Hutch, I wasn't capable of enjoying anything that night. I mean... not until afterwards."
Yes. The kissing. Hutch nodded, curiosity satisfied.
Starsky picked up the duffel bag. "Let's go."
* * *
Dusk drifted into darkness as they began the journey back to reality. Starsky had said they were going to stop for food along the way. It was amazing to Hutch that his partner had gone a full twenty-four hours without even thinking about eating. Having me please him was more important than feeding his stomach.
That was a good Starsky.
As Hutch watched the dark ocean out the side window, he knew that the game playing had to come to an end. Back to the real world. Back to pretending that there was something else out there that was meaningful. Contribute to society. But maybe they could occasionally indulge their impulses, have a little special fun.
Starsky squirmed in his seat, then sighed. "Hutch, I think I need to tell you how it's going to be."
Hutch blinked, staring out the windshield now.
"See, when we get back, we're going to stop at your place first. The moment I turn off the motor, you need to get out of the car and trot up the stairs and unlock the door. Leave the door wide open, because I'm going to be bringing our things up from the car. Then go stand next to the bed, pull down your pants, bend over, and lean against the wall next to the bed with your legs spread wide."
"Because I soon as I'm inside the apartment, I'm going to fuck you, Hutch. Fuck you with my giant cock. Fuck you standing up, next to your own bed. That'll christen your apartment so that it's ours. We'll christen mine later."
He turned to look at Hutch, jaw firm. "Understand?"
Hutch gulped, feeling a shiver race up his spine. God, yes. He understood.