Disclaimers: The faces are familiar and so are the names, but the setting seems a little strange? I kidnapped a few cuties from television land. I accept that they never did and never will belong to me, but I am having oh so much fun while I have them.
Notes: Due to encouragement from the folks at my S/H lists, I have decided to continue the series. I know poor Hutch is hurting bad, but maybe I can offer a happy ending (--or maybe not, I like to string you along). This is an established relationship fic. I am trying to apply slash to the canon of the series to explain the different relationships each had. This is part two of a planned series of stories in "The Coming Home Series". Refer to "He Comes Home To Me" for part one. Enjoys my little dumplings.
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Hutch was lying alone in the big bed that he shared with his lover. Even though the other half of his soul was not there, his body remembered that he should be. After drifting into a fitful slumber, his body lay solely on his side of bed.
Unconsciously, he was dreading his partner coming home. His dreams kept him hostage and played out snapshots from their past. Starsky in the Torino. Starsky howling in passion. Starsky bleeding in the street. Starsky kissing his tears away. His most intense dreams were always of Starsky. He was so tangled in his dreams of his lover that he didn't even hear the front door open.
The figure moved with stealth towards his target and divested items of clothing along the way. Soon Starsky was leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom and watching his sleeping lover in the moonlight. He moved closer to his partner and sat softly on the edge of the mattress. Tenderly his fingertips ghosted over a damp forehead and brushed stray blond hairs away.
Hutch awoke to Starsky caressing his face and quietly moaned in appreciation. He lost himself in the familiar action, before his memory re-emerged. Blue eyes flashed open to duel with an equally passionate matching set. Neither said anything as Starsky's hands began to roam over the lax form. His thumb brushed over a nipple and Hutch's body hummed in response. In one swift move, Starsky was straddling his partner's prone body and demanding entry into his moist mouth with his tongue. Hutch complied and his lips drifted apart as his hands glided to grasp Starks's bare hips.
Hutch could smell the sharp aroma of soap on his lover. Starsky had showered in line with the old rules. He was never to come to his bed smelling of someone else. This was a familiar pattern. This was the way things used to be. It was ironic that Starsky was the one who had stepped out of the relationship and yet he was the one who needed reassurance.
Starsky effectively removed the pale blue boxers from his objective. The bodies quickly aligned and hard cocks rocked frantically side by side with each pump of Starsky's hips. Hutch threw back his head in ecstasy and attempted to shake away the betrayal his mind murmured bleakly in the background of. Starsky took full advantage of the bared throat and began to suck on the salty flesh. He nipped contently and continued their obsessive dance towards the abyss.
"Hutch, I need you." This wasn't a question. This was demand that Hutch always gave into. He belonged to Starsky unconditionally and they both knew it. Starsky just knew how to play his advantage better than the blond half of the partnership.
He fumbled in the bedside table and pulled out the lube. Starsky's fingers fumbled clumsily until they were coated in the slick substance. Swiftly his thigh pressed between the long leg's of his lover and he repositioned himself carefully. His large hand slide down past a rigid cock and tight balls to soothingly rub between Hutch's ass cheeks. His thumb stroked over his target and circled lightly until Hutch was shaking. It was only a preliminary movement to slip one finger past the ring of muscles into the inviting channel. Swiftly, Hutch was prepared as one finger merged into two and finally he was gasping when the third one slide home.
It was always like this since the very first time. Starsky made him want him in the very worst way. Hutch moved his hips in motion with the fingers that were methodically taking him. His eyes snapped open when he felt the fingers leaving him empty. Starsky eyes were flashing with passion and possession. Hutch burned to feel both and was happy at this moment to accept the possession that was his--never shared with anyone else. Even if he could never completely fulfill that passionate nature, he would always be the object of Starsky's possession like no one else. It was strangely comforting.
Starsky slipped Hutch's legs onto his shoulders and grasped the fair hips for better leverage. He always took comfort in this position with Hutch. He could see his blond's eyes like this and wished to see that he still had him. He needed to know that he hadn't lost him and an immediate physical reminder was the only way to effectively calm his stormy psyche. In one swift movement, he pushed his cock into the yielding passageway. Both men groaned for different reasons, but they were finally connected in the most intimate way.
Neither man said anything as Starsky began to take what he needed. With each taking thrust he re-established their physical bond. Hutch closed his eyes to enjoy to ride and tried to forget everything except the feel of his zealous lover. Starsky removed his tight grip from the smooth hip and began to pump Hutch's erection. His mind briefly acknowledged that poor Hutch bruised easily and was morbidly comforted of that fact. The hickies and palm-sized bruises would remind both of their close connection. Hutch was making little endearing needy sounds and thrashing on the bed from the dual stimulation. Starsky was always amazed at how such a strong man could submit so beautifully and with so much love.
This hazy journey was for both men and the words both needed to hear slipped from his lips. "I love only you. It's always been you," Starsky groaned before he finally succumbed to the inevitable.
With one final thrust he emptied his essence deep into his lover. He tightened his grip on Hutch and felt every muscle in the blond's body tighten with his release. They both gave into exhaustion and collapsed in a fleshy mound. Starsky lay between Hutch's legs and rested his head on the hairless chest. His arms wrapped around his lover in a possessive embrace.
"Hutch--babe--tell me you're not mad. Tell me you're still mine," the darker man demanded suddenly.
It was ironic for Hutch that he was demanding what he already owned. Hutch wasn't surprised that he had come home right after the date. In the past, after a particularly intense encounter, Starsky always needed reassurance. If Hutch came home to Venice Place from a date, he would find Starsky waiting for him. The jealously factor was a major reason he bothered to date. Even during Starsky's dalliances with the fairer sex, he was always there testing Hutch. He may have slept with and proclaimed love for Rosie, Terri and countless other pretty faces, but he was always with Hutch on some level.
"Yours, Starsk--always yours," he quietly stated the obvious.
Starsky's clinch settled into a comfortable embrace and he nuzzled deeper against the body beneath him. Hutch would take what he could get, but he wanted it all.
Next story in the series: Home Invasion