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Part 2

Charlotte Frost

Part 3A

"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."

Oh, God....

"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 - "

Breathe, breathe...

"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."

Thank God....

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 ass."
Was Starsky really going to spend thirty minutes at it?

"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."

Starsky stood.

"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...

Hotel lobby.

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."

"That'll do."

"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....

Oh, God....

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....

Oh, Godddddddd.....

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.

Ohhhhh, boy....

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.

"Lie back."

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....

Oh God....

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.

* * *

Part 3B