Disclaimer: I only borrowed them. They can go back to TV land when I'm done. Comments can be sent to: Dawnrca@earthlink.net

'Neath the Christmas Tree



The house was completely dark when Starsky let himself in. Juggling his luggage he reached blindly for the light switch.

"Leave the lights off," came a disembodied voice.

"Hutch?" Starsky's hand hovered over the switch plate but he obeyed the request. "What 'er you doin' here?"

"Waiting for you. Who'd you think, Santa?"

"I dunno, I kinda figured you'd scared him off years ago." Starsky dropped his carry-on to the floor and draped the garment bag over the top.

"S'why I came to your house," Hutch said with a hint of laughter in his voice. Now that his eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, Starsky could just make out Hutch's form across the room near the windows. Dim light from the street lamps outside picked up the delicate hue of Hutch's hair, giving him a ghostly glow.

"So you are waiting for Santa," Starsky chuckled. "What d'you want for Christmas, Blondie?'"


"That goes without saying." Starsky smiled, shedding his leather jacket and adding it to the pile next to the door.

"Missed seeing you."

"Kinda hard to see me in the dark," Starsky replied lazily.

There was a rustling sound and the pungent smell of pine just before a blaze of colored lights revealed a fully decorated Christmas tree. Hutch was illuminated by the light from dozens of red, yellow, blue and green bulbs, outlined in color like a comic book character with greenish hair, a blue chest and red lower half. He was semi-nude, wearing only an open robe. He walked forward, the robe parting to expose his naked body and partially erect cock.

"Take off your shirt," Hutch reached out, fingering the buttons of Starsky's flannel overshirt.

"Looks like you've been busy," Starsky observed, staring at the beautiful tree. Ornaments graced the green branches, what few he'd had stored away in his back closet, but the colored lights really gave the tree a festive air. However, even that sight didn't detract from the splendor of Hutch's body. Starsky wanted to feel that silky smooth skin inside him in the worst way, but the erotic foreplay made the eventual result all the sweeter.

"Worked all afternoon," Hutch said, pulling at Starsky's shirt. "Now I want my present."

"Have you been a good boy?" Starsky chuckled, low and throaty. He was immensely turned on by Hutch's welcome; the exhaustion and stress from the long transcontinental flight from New York evaporating at the thought of spending Christmas Eve with the man he loved most.

"Hardly ever," Hutch purred.

Letting his blue flannel shirt flutter to the carpet, Starsky yanked his dark t-shirt out of his jeans, slipping his hand underneath in a suggestive motion, sliding it over his chest so that his hand moved under the cotton like a snake under the earth. He liked the way Hutch's face lit up watching that hand move with a half-open mouth. "Been on Santa's naughty list?" Starsky teased before slowly pulling his shirt over his head. He rolled it into a loose rope, then snapped it at his partner. It didn't make the satisfying crack that a rolled towel made but Hutch grabbed hold of the end, jerking Starsky towards him.

"Good boys don't get the best gifts."

"It's not even close to midnight; didn't you say your Ma made you wait until morning to open presents?" Starsky struggled with the t-shirt, but he lost his end when Hutch resorted to tickling to win.

"Can't wait tonight, you've been gone too long." Hutch captured his love, leaning in for a celebratory kiss.

"Wasn't all that long," Starsky protested, breathing Hutch's air. He grabbed another kiss, hungry for more after their separation. "Only four days."

"Four days and four nights," Hutch murmured, nursing gently on Starsky's lower lip. His tongue burrowed forward, taking liberties, but Starsky allowed it entrance, greedy for every treasured inch of Hutch. They melted into each other, kisses following one after the other in fast succession, each more perfect than the last. But eventually, the biological need for oxygen even outweighed their mutual passion and Starsky pulled back to suck in air.

"Maybe I should go away more often, if this is the reception I get."

"I don't plan to let you out of my sight for at least as long as you were gone." Hutch dropped down onto the couch, still holding onto Starsky's jean clad hips. "Take 'em off," he said huskily, toying with the belt buckle.

"Just what are your intentions?" Starsky stalled, basking in the banked fire from Hutch's eyes. The Christmas tree lights changed his normally sky blue eyes to weird, shifting colors depending on his position. Just then, the blue bulbs gave his irises an almost unearthly shimmer, like a Greek god who hadn't quite perfected the proper colors of mundane Earth.

"Come sit on my lap, little boy, and you'll find out," Hutch urged, his eyes hooded, "But you can't do it until you're undressed."

"You weren't waiting for Santa." Starsky unbuckled his belt and inched the zipper on his fly down with infinite slowness. "You are the old man."

"Who's calling who an old man?" Hutch chastised, his gaze was riveted on Starsky's groin. "Keep going."

"Haven't you heard of the old saying 'good things come to those who wait?'" Starsky thrust forward, his swelling member so prominent it forced the zipper the rest of the way down.

"Early bird catches the worm." Hutch closed his hand over the heat of Starsky's genitals, kneading flesh through the fabric of garish red and green boxers.

"Much bigger than a worm." Starsky pushed against Hutch's hand, his breath speeding up with every stroke from those beloved fingers.

"Bigger'n a breadbox," Hutch corrected, parting the slit in the front of the shorts.

"Unwrap it yourself, if you want the secret prize inside the box."

"No Cracker-Jacks here." Hutch shoved Starsky's tight jeans down, waiting impatiently until he stepped out of the pants and cast them aside, then grasped the elastic of the brightly colored shorts. Starsky grabbed Hutch's wrists, stopping the downward motion.

"I want my present first," he demanded

"Didn't get you anything, Starsk," Hutch touched his lips to the tiny line of hair disappearing into the waistband of Starsky's shorts, his tongue darting out to lick the indented navel. Starsky moaned, the warm wetness on his belly sending cascading waves of desire straight to his core. He wanted that mouth on his cock now, but he also needed get even closer to Hutch, feel that bare skin against his own. Which first?

"Then, I know what I want." Starsky whispered nuzzling Hutch's temple and planting sweet kisses over each eyelid. It was strange to be towering over the normally taller man and he had to maneuver down to get to his goal; that sensual, lucious mouth. He ended up straddling Hutch's thighs, knees planted on each side, but not letting his cock anywhere near Hutch's burgeoning erection. Instead, Starsky's heavy, aching rod, still decently covered in cotton, brushed against Hutch's chest when he leaned down to explore the tempting curves of an ear and the strong sweep of the jaw bone with his lips and tongue. The feel of Hutch against his sensitive cock sent off electric sparks behind Starsky's retina and he rejoiced in the tactile sensation. He wasn't whole without Hutch beside him. Even on the other side of the U.S. he'd felt the pull of this man, but now so close, Hutch's presence nearly overwhelmed his senses, leaving him giddy and elated. He ran his palm over the bristly, invisible beard hairs on Hutch's chin before threading his fingers through the delicate blond locks on the nape of his neck. Starsky cradled the back of his beloved's head, pulling him into his chest.

Resting his cheek on Starsky's hairy breast, Hutch turned enough to lav one of the brown nipples so close to his mouth. Starsky stiffened immediately, encouraging the suckling. "Keep goin', Hutch, keep goin'."

Hutch applied just a hint of teeth to the tight little nub, causing Starsky to gasp with delight. It wasn't long until Starsky was a puddle of need with Hutch's mouth all over his chest, licking and sucking along the pink tracings left by the surgeons' scalpels.

His cock had swollen to mammoth proportions, pulsing like a second heart. He rose up; shoving on Hutch's shoulders so the blond could slide down until he was reclining diagonally on the couch. Shedding his underwear in one frantic motion, Starsky aligned his cock directly in front of Hutch's mouth. Hutch needed no encouragement, opening his lips with a little sigh of pleasure.

"Oh, god!" Starsky exclaimed when Hutch went down on him, taking half his length in one slurp. The suction on his cock was fantastic, drawing him deeper and deeper inside the cave of ecstasy until he couldn't do anything but hang onto the back of the couch and ride it out. Never before had Hutch's tongue done such a talented dance, curling around the ridge that delineated the circumcised head of Starsky's cock. Pushing forward just enough to bring more of his aching rod in contact with that agile muscle, Starsky had to fight the urge to just ram himself all the way in. But that wasn't what this night was about. They were celebrating their partnership, glorifying in their togetherness and taking pleasure in simple acts of love. There was no place for aggression and macho posturing here.

Even without giving in to his most animal instincts, Starsky couldn't have been more fulfilled. Hutch's tongue slicked along the underside of his cock. Starsky pulled out slightly just to get that delightful sensation twice. When Hutch's teeth just scraped along the edge of the engorged organ, Starsky lost his mind, his testes tightening into screaming balls, ejecting their load with amazing force. Clinging to the couch cushions with white clenched fists, Starsky howled to the winter sky in rapture.

Hutch kept swallowing, the constant contractions milking Starsky dry. Panting, Starsky managed to plant a joyous kiss on his lover's sweaty forehead before dropping languidly onto the sofa, his head hanging down.

"You okay?" Hutch cupped his chin, pulling Starsky's face up until they were only inches apart.

Reaching up, Starsky reverently wiped his finger across the blond's lips, cleaning off the remains of his blow out. Hutch licked that finger, kissing the tip and then the each of its siblings with a slightly goofy smile.

"You gave me such a gift, Hutch," Starsky sighed, giggling when the finger kissing became more animated, Hutch's grin widening as he smooched big wet ones on Starsky's palm. "I never expected to find this underneath my tree. Or to find a tree, for that matter."

"Starsky, no gift is more perfect than the one you gave me." Hutch gathered both his partner's hands in his, his expression more serious.

"I haven't given you anything yet." Starsky shook his head, rearranging his limbs and drawing up his knees up so their joined hands were bridging two sets of bent knees like a rope ladder hanging between mountain peaks. "Although a new comic book shop opened near my Ma's and I . . . "

"You gave me back your life," Hutch shushed him. "When I ran into that hospital, and your heart was beating . . . I thought I'd lost you for ever, that Gunther had taken away everything good in my life. But when your heart started beating again, that was the greatest gift ever given."

"This is." Starsky entwined his fingers with Hutch's. "Us together."

"I gave you my heart but you gave me your life."

"Cause your heart is my life," Starsky whispered, lowering his knees. Emotions pounded through him, overlapping each other until he couldn't even begin to say what was in his soul. He ached for Hutch, needed him even more than before. "I want you in me, Hutch . . . "

"Then how 'bout you coming over here, on my lap?" Hutch's eyes still poured loving balm into Starsky's soul, but he'd regained the teasing brightness of a few moments ago.

"Here?" Starsky came to all fours, running a suggestive hand up Hutch's naked thigh, stopping short of the genitals. He knew his lover was very sensitive on the underside of his leg, the blond guard hairs there soft as the down of a chick and the crook of the knee particularly ticklish.

"A little higher," Hutch chuffed with laughter, reaching out for Starsky's body.

"Nope, nope, I wanta hear your Christmas list first." Starsky wasn't sure he could to wait much longer and from the looks of Hutch's enormous staff, he wouldn't last more than a few minutes, but it was so much fun to harass the poor boy.

"If I'm Santa, then that's my line."

"I'm Santa's helper."

"Oh, one of the elves." Hutch managed to grab hold of a rounded buttock but Starsky squirmed free, jumping off the couch with ease.

"Don't got those pointy shoes with bells on 'em." Starsky waggled a bare foot.

"I could find some bells . . . " Hutch mused. He stood, stretching his long golden body so the ramrod stiff erection stood out in front of him like a lewd red candy cane. Circling the couch, he made a determined tackle of his prey. Starsky didn't put up much of a fight, giggling when Hutch pounced, sending them both crashing to the rug.

"Watch out for the tree," Starsky warned, ending up on his back looking up at the fragrant green branches. The multicolored lights dazzled his eyes, decorating Hutch in primary colors like a stained glass fantasy prince.

"I could care less about that tree right about now," Hutch groaned, arching forward. "C'mere."

Scooting around so he was facing Hutch, Starsky widened his legs, gripping his hands just under the back of his knees to spread them apart. "It's time."

Hutch had come prepared. He'd hidden a tube of 'Slippery Christmas lube' under the tree, and had landed within inches of it when he'd propelled his lover to the floor. He scooped up the tube, squeezing out a liberal dollop. A delicate smell of cinnamon and other holiday smells issued forth, enveloping them both in Christmasy memories. Applying a generous amount to the end of one finger, Hutch slid it into Starsky's waiting opening, grinning when the other man's dark blue eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, man, that tingles!" Starsky cried out, the cool gel heating up when it came in contact with his internal walls. "It's kinda hot!"

"Ingredients read like some of your favorite cookies." Hutch tossed the tube aside, swirling his finger in the tight space like he was mixing batter. "Ginger, cloves . . . other sweet, spicy things."

"It's more than spicy." Starsky's whole anus was sizzling, like his mouth after an exotic meal only he didn't have any icy beer. "Hutch, do something!" It wasn't so much painful as stimulating. Every nerve ending in his rectum vibrating, screaming with need. He couldn't keep still, needing to push forward, get that big, red fire hose inside him to cool the flames as fast as possible. Unfortunately, Hutch seemed to have all the time in the world, inserting two fingers with deliberate slowness. "Please, Hutch, it's past time!"

"You ready?" Hutch leered with evil intent. He coated himself with a more mundane style lube, rubbing his hand up and down the long shaft with a beautiful expression of lust. Starsky couldn't take his eyes off him; even parti-colored with Christmas lights Hutch was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

"Santa Claus wouldn't do this to a guy . . . " Starsky moaned, sweat breaking out on his forehead as inner fires flared. He panted, wanting to expel the spicy liniment. In desperation he hooked his feet around Hutch's head, drawing him closer. Without further ado, Hutch breached the entrance to the tiny anus and shoved, roaring with the effort.

Arching his body, Starsky grunted with the spread of his muscles, chanting Hutch's name like a magical mantra. It felt so good, so special to be filled like this. Ignoring that tiny ache of over-stretched skin, he shrieked with delight when the hard blunt cock stabbed his prostate, sending a shocking jolt of pleasure straight through his rectum. This was what he'd been waiting for, needing for the last four days. No doubt about it, he never wanted to be apart from his best friend ever again. "Deeper, deeper, Hutch, oh love, Hutch . . . "

"Starsssk," Hutch hissed, closing his eyes and grabbing hold of Starsky's hipbones to impale himself even more firmly. He was up on his knees, thighs jerking with the tension of the moment. Starsky's knees tightened around Hutch's shoulders, jamming his own shoulders against the carpet. He could feel the rasp of wool on his back as their bodies rocked in harmony.

Although Hutch's balls were already smashed against his ass, Starsky kept rocking that huge rod further up the canal until he was sure he'd never been penetrated so deeply. It felt extreme, like he was nothing more than a sheath to hold his lover's sword. If they remained locked in this position for the rest of their lives, he'd be totally content.

"Hutch, oh, love," Starsky whispered, surprised to find himself crying. The fiery sting of the spices had cooled when Hutch had shoved forward but his desire for his lover was burning out of control. Starsky's whole body was shaking, trembling with the after-effects of the ointment, muscles spasming and contracting wildly, clenching so tightly around Hutch's cock both men screamed in unison.

Bright reds and greens flashed in front of Starsky's eyes like giant strobe lights advertising their union. He was showered in colors, high on passion, drenched in rainbows arching around the two bodies under the decorated conifer, without the benefit of illicit drugs or alcohol.

After what seemed like hours, Hutch shuddered his release and started to pull free of his lover's body.

"Don't." Starsky carefully lowered his legs from their perch on Hutch's shoulders, sitting up with a slight wince as the cock inside him shifted. "Keep it there, at least for a while. Feels like we're part of each other."

"We are." Hutch kissed him. "You smell good."

"All sweaty."

"No, you smell like gingerbread. I want to take a big bite."

"Nevermind, I'm kinda tough, but my Ma packed half my suitcase with food. It'll taste much better."

"I'll be the judge of that." Hutch linked his arms around Starsky to keep them close together then cautiously straightened out his own legs so Starsky's were still resting on his thighs. "What'd she make?'

"Well, I couldn't bring the blintzes, but oh, Hutch, you shoulda tasted 'em. Like cream and silk . . . kinda like you."

"Hmm," Hutch was looking at him with a hungry wolf leer, baring his teeth. "Better stop tempting me with food that's not even here or I will have to feast on roast David."

"Don't you dare," Starsky wiggled, his internal walls still spasming weakly. He did like having Hutch still filling him up. Even limp, Hutch's cock was long and thick but without the endorphins of sex, it was more uncomfortable than he'd anticipated. Just a bit like needing to go but putting it off for just a few more minutes. His muscles were starting to protest, but he wasn't ready to let Hutch go yet. He felt selfish and greedy after so long apart. Not to mention the years and years they could have been doing this when they'd been making time with forgettable women. Some part of him jealously wanted Hutch tucked up safe inside him where no one else could have him. Weird and a little kinky, but so be it. "I've got latkes to warm up. You spoon warm applesauce over the top and bite into crisp, soft potato . . . "

"Crisp and soft are opposites, Starsk," Hutch corrected.

"Not in this case, and then I got a whole thermos fulla soup. Noodles and chicken . . . then some long, twisted bread that got just a little squashed on the plane." Starsky stared into those perfect sky blue eyes, the right hue for one moment even though Hutch's blond hair reflected blue and red bulbs so he had a slightly punk attitude in shades of purple. "Remind me again why you didn't come to New York for Chanukah with me?"

"Family time, Starsk. You needed to reconnect with your mom, prove you survived." Hutch kissed him gently. "You needed the time together."

"It was great, but never again, " Starsky vowed. "As of now, you're my family, too and I don't want to be separated, ever." He shifted with a slight grin. "On that note, I gotta get up and wash. Then maybe we can have a real New York meal."

"Leaving so soon?" Hutch let him stand then rose up next to him, taking his hand. "You ask me to marry me and leave like that?"

"Was that a proposal?" Starsky sighed with a sappy grin.

"Sounded like it to me. If we're gonna be family there's no way I'll be your brother. More like a mate." Hutch nodded, his face reflecting love and devotion. "And I say yes, I'll never leave you, just don't leave me. I can't stand it."

"Me and thee, lover."


"And beyond." Starsky butted his head against Hutch's, finding that favorite place where he could curl in, his head pillowed on the other's shoulder. He liked being just a few inches shorter, because they fit so perfectly together that way. Like ying and yang, curved together to make a whole.

Pointing up, Hutch gathered Starsky into a clench for a kiss that left him gasping.

"What was that for?" Starsky murmured, still pressed against soft lips.

"Mistletoe. I never realized what a necessity it was at Christmas."

"Buddy, you learned a lot 'bout what's necessary at Christmas since last year." Starsky cocked an eye at the vegetation hanging from a light fixture above their heads. He rubbed his butt, trying to massage away the not-quite-ache there. "Trees in a park may be practical, but this here beats it hands down."

"I learned from the master," Hutch quipped, giving a courtly bow. "You showed me how to appreciate life, Starsk."

"Appreciate me all you like, but I gotta get a shower before we eat."

"Right now, that's not all I appreciate." Hutch smirked at his partner's naked, sex ravaged body. "Wait, I forgot one thing."

"What's that?"

"Well, I got this cap, but it didn't really fit me, so I thought you'd like it."

"Since when do I hafta take your cast-offs?" Starsky tried to sound incensed, but he couldn't carry it off. Besides he liked wearing clothes he knew had touched Hutch's skin.

"Looks better on you," Hutch bent down, giving his friend a fine view of his long, lean legs when the robe he still wore flapped back and retrieved a small bundle of red fabric from amongst the branches of the tree. Adjusting the furry trim, he slipped the Santa hat onto Starsky's curls. "Definitely looks better on you."

"You just couldn't quite get yourself to put it on." Starsky patted the hat happily. "Admit it."

"Guilty as charged, Officer, what's the penalty?"

"Spendin' the rest of the night 'neath the Christmas tree with one of Santa's helpers," Starsky proposed. "After that, life with me, no possibility of parole."

"I'll do the time, as long as it's not in solitude."

"Not a chance, buddy, not a chance."

"Merry Christmas, Starsky, forever."

"And beyond."


And Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noel and Felice Navidad