Title: BLINDFOLDS
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Rating: MAO
Pairings: S/H

Disclaimers: I don't own the guys and don't wish to infringe on the
copyrights of those who do.  I'm just letting them have more fun, that's
all.  No money being made.  Trust me on that one. 

Notes: This story was inspired by a number of threads on VenicePlace,
most notably our discussion about the "Blindfold" tag.  Thanks to
everyone who participated, and for the anecdote about the kid in
Duluth, thanks to the person who mentioned a similar incident and
sparked the idea in my evil little mind.

Summary:   A practical joke and its aftermath leads to the removal of
some major emotional blindfolds.

Warnings: h/c, m/m, injury to an innocent fern...
***********************************************************

BLINDFOLDS

by

Candy Apple



     Still smiling and shaking his head a little, Starsky ambled
slowly over to the front door.  Hutch certainly had put on a good show
of moaning and thumping around out there.  Starsky half expected to
see him sprawled melodramatically across the foot of the steps just to
enjoy the panicked reaction.  He pulled open the door, but the smile
and the snappy remark that was forming died on his lips as Hutch's car
backed out of the driveway with a slight screech of tires, then headed
down the road.  

     Frowning, Starsky walked out on the porch and looked down
the steps.  A plant he'd had sitting on the far left side of a middle step
was overturned, the pot broken.  Hutch leaving a plant to die a horrible
death on the cement was pretty unusual.  Even angry, he'd have most
likely ripped Starsky a new one--not left the plant to suffer such a fate. 
He grabbed a pail from inside the front door which contained some
water he'd been using when he scrubbed the kitchen floor and dumped
it, heading down the steps to rescue the wounded plant where it lay
among clay shards.  

     "Come on, Butch," Starsky said to the beleaguered fern as he
maneuvered it into the pail, gathering up as much of the usable dirt as
he could.  The fern's partner, Sundance, was unharmed a couple steps
down.  As he turned to go back inside, still puzzled at Hutch's abrupt
departure, he noticed something dark on the edge of one of the steps. 
Setting the fern on the porch in its makeshift home, he went down to
examine the spot.  It was a small patch of fresh blood.

     "Oh my God," Starsky muttered, before rushing back up the
steps and into the apartment.  He tossed the towel he'd had over his
shoulder onto the couch, grabbed his car keys and fled out the door.

********

     "Of all the stupid, irresponsible, dumbfuck stunts," Hutch
muttered angrily as he taped the gauze square over the egg on his
forehead.  It was a pretty, technicolor specimen, complete with an
unsightly scrape and cut across the top of it.  Fortunately, it wasn't a
large enough or deep enough wound to require stitches, but it sure had
bled like a son of a bitch all the way home.  

     He rehearsed a number of stories he could use to explain the
injury at work the following day--and none of them, of course, included
the truth.  He took a couple of aspirin, not sure what throbbed more at
the moment--his head from hitting the step or his ass from smacking
into that flower pot.  He'd been more intimate with Butch the fern than
he'd been with his last date.  Fortunately, years of experience with
jumping, falling, rolling and getting otherwise banged up had saved
him from doing something truly stupid, like sticking a limb out to brace
himself.  Nothing was broken.  His head, his ass, and his pride were
considerably the worse for wear though.  

     What bothered him more than the physical aches and pains was
why Starsky would even think to pull a stunt like that.  He knew
Hutch's back wasn't exactly perfect anymore, and it was damn
dangerous to send a blindfolded person head-first down a flight of
steps. //Stupid, stupid, stupid stunt, buddy,// Hutch thought to himself
as he pulled out a beer and went to the couch to stretch out, letting the
abused and bruised spots relish the softness of the cushions.  He'd call
Starsky later, if the other man didn't call him first, which he was fully
expecting any minute, given his abrupt departure. //Read him the riot
act and then collect on what will be a debt good for at least a month of
first choice of take-out joints.//

********

     "Hutch?!"  The panicked voice cut through the delicious
slumber Hutch had slipped into on the couch, and before he could get
up, the key was turning in the door, and then Starsky was through it,
rushing over to the couch.  "Hutch?  Are you okay, babe?  There was
blood on the step and...how bad is it?  Did you go to the hospital?" 
Starsky landed on the couch next to his now-sitting partner and pushed
the fine blond hair back from the gauze patch.  "Does it hurt?"

     "I'm bruised but I'm all right, it doesn't need stitches, I didn't go
to the hospital, and yes, it hurts, you moron.  Slamming your head into
the edge of a wood step tends to be a little uncomfortable.  Now will
you quit fussing with that?"  Hutch batted Starsky's probing fingers
away from the bandage.  

     "Aw, God, Hutch, I'm sorry.  I never even thought about it.  I
mean, right after I moved in there, I took a header down those steps and
the worst thing that happened was me introducin' the neighbors to a
whole new street vocabulary on the way down.  Besides, I didn't think
you'd fall--I guess...I guess I just didn't think too much about it."

     "You know, people have been killed falling down flights of
stairs, Starsky," Hutch admonished, getting up and walking out toward
the kitchen area, checking one of his plants for dryness.  

     "Oh, sure, I suppose takin' a header down a big flight of steps--"

     "A few steps are enough, Starsk.  You go down the wrong
way..."  Hutch shrugged, putting an intentionally ominous tone in his
voice, filling his watering can in the sink.  "Back in Duluth, this family
up the street?  Their son tripped and fell down the front steps."

     "This was a big event back home?"  Starsky teased, smiling a
little.  

     "He broke his neck and died right on their front sidewalk."
Hutch continued watering his plants, keeping his back to Starsky. 
"They didn't have as many steps as you do--it was just off a regular
front porch, not an upstairs level like your place."  Hutch squinted at
what was either a mite or a fleck of dust on the plant leaf.  The silence
in the room was almost deafening. //Come up with a response for that
one, smart ass,// Hutch thought smugly.  Finally, as the silence
stretched on,  abnormally long and complete, he turned to look at
Starsky.

     The other man still sat on the edge of the couch cushion, his
elbows on his knees.  His head was lowered, and Hutch frowned as he
detected a slight tremor to the shoulders.  

     "Starsk?"  he asked softly, setting the watering can aside.  The
little hitched breathing sounds were coming through now, and the
shaking was getting worse.  Starsky was crying.

     "If anything...if you...if something I did..."  Starsky gave up on
talking and continued to cry while Hutch stared at him, stupefied at his
reaction.

     "Starsk, it was a kid in Duluth who broke his neck, not me," he
said, sitting next to his seemingly inconsolable partner.  Truth be told,
Hutch was still a little prickly and not entirely ready to offer a
sympathetic shoulder, but it was hard to be stern in the face of such
complete misery.  

     "But it coulda been you!"  Starsky protested, looking up at
Hutch with wet, desperate eyes.  "And then where would that'a left
me?"

     "With a whole lot of explaining to do in Dobey's office on
Monday morning," Hutch quipped, smiling, hoping the humor would
pull Starsky out of his tears.  

     "It's not funny!"  he shot back angrily.

     "I didn't think so either, but it's not this tragic, pal.  I'm still
sitting here."

     "I fell...down the steps...myself...and it...was no big deal.  So I 
wasn't...worried."  Starsky swallowed hard and forced his voice to
cooperate with talking.  "I didn't think you were gonna fall."

     "Where did you think I was gonna go, Starsk?"  Hutch asked
with a little laugh in his voice.  

     "I didn't think you were gonna take a piss with a blindfold on!" 
Starsky retorted, trying to pull himself under control.  "Not in the
bathroom where I just got done scrubbin' the floor, anyway."

     "Look, you pulled a stunt that could've ended worse than it did. 
But it didn't, so let's just forget it."

     "Hutch, if anything ever happened to you..."  Starsky bit his lip
and looked away again.  "If I *made* it happen...even just you gettin'
hurt...I just..."

     "Hey, buddy, it was a dumb stunt and you apologized."  Hutch
finally relented and slid an arm around his partner.  He wasn't surprised
when the gesture was greedily latched onto as an invitation, and two
strong arms were around him tightly, Starsky hugging him as if he'd
just been pulled from the jaws of death.  "You're still shaking, Starsk. 
God, I never would have mentioned that thing about the kid breaking
his neck if I thought you were gonna take it this hard."

     "But he *died*, Hutch."

     "Yeah, he died.  I didn't.  And you didn't mean anything by what
you did."

     "But your back.  Damn...I never thought about that...I guess I
didn't think you were gonna fall.  When you made all'a that noise, I
thought you were puttin' on a show for me."

     "No, I was just putting on a show for some guy walking his dog
past the front of the house," Hutch recalled, chuckling a little.  

     "Can ya forgive me at all?"  Starsky asked sincerely.  "I was just
messin' around...y'know, pullin' a joke on you.  I never thought--"

     "Hey, enough."  Hutch gave his partner a little squeeze before
pulling back.  "It's okay, buddy.  I've pulled a few tricks on you too. 
Guess I gotta be ready to take it if I'm gonna dish it out."

     "This was worse."

     "Maybe a little dumber than *my* jokes, but then, after all, we
already know who the brains are in this partnership."  Hutch smiled as
Starsky chuckled a little at the familiar banter.  
     
     "I just wanna be sure you know that..."  Starsky looked down,
still staying close to his partner.  "I know I wasn't all that easy to get
along with the last while...this thing with Emily and the shooting...
really freaked me out, y'know?"

     "I know," Hutch responded quietly, nodding a little.

     "I guess I...I'm tryin' to say that...I want you to know that I love
you.  You're my best pal, Hutch.  I'd never do anything--"

     "Hey, we settled this.  I love you too, babe.  It's okay," Hutch
reassured.  Two slightly puffy, intense blue eyes looked up to meet his. 
There was something different in the gaze, something...*hotter*. 
Hutch had seen just about every expression Starsky had to offer
directed at him at one time or another.  But this...this was...desire. 
Passion.  The kind that makes "I love you" take on a whole new
meaning.  

     Before he could get any further in his analysis of what was
happening, Starsky moved forward and pressed his lips against Hutch's. 
In an instant, he was kissing for all he was worth, despite the fact he
was essentially doing the work alone.  Hutch was still too dazed from
the rapid shift in moods...in the change in the *rules* of the last several
*years*...to respond.  

     And then those soft lips were gone, and Starsky had put
distance between the himself and Hutch, having moved back on the
couch.  

     "Sorry, buddy.  Guess I got carried away."  Starsky stood up and
headed for the door.

     "Starsk, wait," Hutch called after him, and he paused, the front
door open, his back still to Hutch.  

     "Hutch, don't...okay?  Just...let's just forget it if you're not too
mad.  I...nothin' like that'll ever happen again."

     Hutch rose from the couch and made his way over to the
defeated figure at the door.  He rested his hands on Starsky's shoulders
and squeezed gently.

     "That's too bad, buddy.  I never even got time to get into it."

     "You shouldn't have to get into it if it's not your scene.  I
wouldn't ask you to do that."

     "Is it your scene?  Kissing guys?"

     "No," Starsky responded softly, shaking his head a little.  

     "How many guys have you kissed?"

     "One.  Includin' you."

     "So, uh, how was it?"  Hutch asked.

     "Look, I feel dumb enough here, Hutch.  Don't ask me to bleed
for you."

     "I already did that for you once today, so you owe me.  Now
how was it?"  Hutch persisted.

     "You want the truth?  I was nervous as hell and felt like I was
gonna throw up.  And then you didn't do anything so it was like kissin'
a dead fish.  And I felt like an idiot.  Maybe you're right and I'm not a
good kisser after all.  I gotta get outta here."

     "You can't do something like that and run away, Starsk."

     "Watch me."  Starsky pulled out from under the hands on his
shoulder and headed out the door.

     "Starsky, don't go," Hutch called after him, and was relieved
when he stopped again.  This time, he turned and somewhat hesitantly
met Hutch's eyes.   "You surprised me a little there, partner.  That's all."

     "There's good surprises and bad surprises.  You looked like
somebody who just got told their car was totaled."

     "Sometimes that expression isn't much different from somebody
who just won the lottery, babe."  Hutch moved a little closer.  "It's
shock--surprise...you're so stunned for a minute that you just can't...
*comprehend* all of it.  But generally, winning the lottery is a good
thing."  Hutch smiled a little, shrugging slightly.  "A very good thing,"
he repeated, looking Starsky directly in the eyes.  

     "So, uh, was me kissin' you like gettin' your car totaled or
winning the lottery?"

     "Definitely the lottery," Hutch responded, that same soft smile
on his face.  

     Starsky moved closer then, and hesitantly reached up to rest the
palm of his hand on Hutch's cheek.

     "You're everything in the whole world to me, babe.  You know
that, right?"

     "Yeah, I know that."  Hutch covered the hand with his own. 
"I've always known that."  He pulled the hand into both of his, rubbing
his thumb over the backs of the fingers.  Those hands had comforted
him, fought for him...and killed for him.  On an impulse, he leaned
down and planted a kiss on the back of the hand he held.  "I love you
too," he said, looking up to meet Starsky's eyes again.  They were
bright with tears.  "You think we could go inside instead of makin' out
in the hall like a couple of teenagers?"  Hutch asked, and Starsky
laughed, a little of the tension broken.

     "Guess we got a place to go, might as well use it."  Starsky
followed Hutch back into the apartment, and Hutch closed the door
behind them.

     "I don't want to explain to Dobey why we were busted for lewd
and lascivious behavior in the hallway."

     "You wanna get lewd and lascivious with me?"  Starsky asked,
flexing his eyebrows a little, his eyes alight with mischief.

     "I want you to tell me what's happening here, partner.  Just out
of the blue, you decided you wanted to be more than friends?  You've
said yourself you don't swing that way."

     "Yeah, well..."  Starsky sighed.  "Maybe the packaging just isn't
that important anymore.  I learned a lot from Emily, y'know?  Love...it
doesn't come 'at first sight'--it's not what you see that matters.  It's what
you feel inside.  All the things I feel inside, the stuff that matters...it's
all about you, Hutch.  Always has been."  Starsky studied the plant on
the nearby shelf very intently, not wanting to meet his partner's eyes.  

     "We've always loved each other, buddy.  Nothing has to change
about that.  We always will.  But loving someone for what they are
inside instead of the outside packaging is a far cry from changing your
whole sexual orientation."

     "Maybe...if you could give me one chance to prove it to ya,
Hutch, maybe then you could feel that way about me, too.  Maybe you
could want me that way."

     "Aw, Starsk, I'm not looking to make you prove something. 
You don't have to prove anything."  Hutch took in a deep breath.  "The
kiss was a little weird, and it was a surprise...but it was a good surprise. 
I told you I liked it...and that I *loved* you."  Hutch ran a hand back
through his hair.  "But I can't play with this.  This isn't a weekend
diversion for me.  And when you decide you want to go back to chasing
women, I'm not letting you go," Hutch stated simply.  

     "You're not letting me...  I don't want to chase anybody but
you," Starsky protested.  "And I don't want you to ever let go."

     "But why?  If you're not gay--"

     "Are you?"  Starsky asked.

     "No."  Then Hutch rolled his eyes a little.  "Maybe a little."

     "You're a little gay?  That's sort of like bein' a little bit pregnant. 
Either you are or you aren't."

     "I don't usually go for guys--at least, it never really occurred to
me to look at them like potential lovers--but...but I could really
picture...being with you that way.  So maybe that makes me gay.  I
don't much care anymore.  If I am, so be it."

     "The first time I had a thought like that about you?"  Starsky
grinned a little.  "It was weird.  Very weird."  He laughed softly at the
admission.

     "When did you have that first thought?"

     "When I thought I was gonna die--when I was all shot up with
that poison?"  Starsky swallowed.  "I was so sick, in that alley...after we
talked to Janos in his classy little porno studio?  The pain was so bad,
and then you...you put your arms around me and held onto me, and
even though it hurt so bad right then that I was scared...I thought that
was it, that they messed up the timetable, that I was dyin'...I guess that's
why I was hopin' you'd hold onto me, because...I didn't want to go out
alone."  

     "Starsk..."  Hutch swallowed hard himself now, not wanting to
relive that memory.  Even now, it pierced his heart like a knife.  He
couldn't not touch Starsky then.  Just a hand on his shoulder, but it was
a reassurance of life.  Something to ground him in the present.

     "Even with all'a that goin' through my head, I was thinkin' that I
wanted to stay in your arms like that forever.  I started wondering what
it would be like if we...you know...kissed.  Or more.  And then I felt so
awful that I was gonna die and we'd never know."

     "But you never said anything then.  Not even after you were
back on your feet again."

     "I chickened out, and I figured I was just scared'a dyin' and
grabbed onto you so I wouldn't be alone.  But then when you fell in
love with Gillian..."  Starsky sighed.  "I didn't like it too much."

     "I thought you liked her...I mean, before you found out..." 
Hutch shrugged.

     "It's funny, but I liked her even after I found out.  Well, not right
away, but after we talked...I knew she really loved you, and she was
gonna do the right thing, tell the truth..."  Starsky shrugged.  "It wasn't
about not likin' Gillian.  It was about not likin' you...paying so much
attention to her all the time."

     "Instead of you?  Starsk, you know that even if things had
worked out, you'd have always been my best friend, my partner--"

     "Yeah, well, that wasn't enough," Starsky stated flatly.  "I
wanted you to look at me like you looked at her."

     "You've always had a string of women a mile long and now
you're telling me that you were wanting me all that time?"

     "I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with you.  I just knew I
wanted to be the one you were all goofy about.  And I wanted to make
ya happy, Hutch.  Nobody ever did a whole lot to make you happy."

     "You always do, babe," Hutch responded, smiling affectionately
at his partner.  

     "You're askin' all the questions here.  If you liked that kiss, how
come?"

     "You think we could sit down?"  Hutch asked, and Starsky
chortled a little, realizing now they were still standing just inside the
apartment door.  After they were seated at opposite ends of the couch,
turned sideways, facing each other, Hutch took in a long breath and
expelled it slowly.  "The first time I thought about us...*that way*... 
Starsky, if you laugh at me, I swear, I'll kill you."

     "Why would I do that?"  Starsky seemed mildly affronted, but
Hutch was undeterred.

     "Just...don't laugh."

     "Okay.  I won't laugh," Starsky responded, exasperated.

     "It was when you, uh...dipped me."

     "Which time?"  Starsky furrowed his brow, and Hutch shot him
a look.  "Well it's not like I only did it once."

     "The first time...in Dobey's office."

     "Ah," Starsky nodded.  "So you're actually in love with
Ramon?"  Starsky concluded in a heavy accent, flexing his eyebrows.  

     "You're moving dangerously close to laughing, buddy-boy."

     "Sorry," Starsky replied with total smirking insincerity.  

     "There was this moment when you were looking down...right
into my eyes.  I thought you were gonna kiss me right there in Dobey's
office."

     "Well, that sure would'a surprised Dobey."

     "I wanted you to.  That's when I knew something...wasn't right. 
I mean, normally, I would have thought of that as a good gross joke,
not as something that...would be nice."

     "So all'a this time, you've been thinking about us like that?"

     "Not constantly, no.  We've both had our share of women, and a
lot's happened in the last couple years."

     "Yeah, a lot," Starsky agreed, nodding.  

     "A lot of it not so great."

     "Maybe we were both lookin' for something but scared to see
that we already had it...  So it was easier to push away..."  Starsky
rubbed his eyes tiredly with one hand.  "It was easier sometimes to
push you away than to think about the fact you were the 'something' I
was lookin' for."

     Hutch said nothing, but just closed his eyes and let the perfect
understanding in Starsky's words wash over him.  Both of them were
looking for that stability, that love of a lifetime, and both of them were
looking at it every single day in each other, and trying to find ways to
find it *anyhwere* else.  

     "What happens now?"  Hutch asked finally, looking up to meet
Starsky's eyes.  

     Deciding that enough time had been spent with words, Starsky
moved over until he was on the middle cushion of the couch, his knee
touching his partner's as they both sat sideways, still facing each other. 
Then he moved forward, hoping this wasn't going to be a replay of the
one-sided kiss he'd tried earlier.  Just as he neared Hutch's mouth, the
other man moved forward and met him halfway, one of those large,
strong hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer as their lips met.

     Starsky let his eyes drift shut as he felt the warm, soft, moving
lips beneath his, parting finally so their tongues could meet, albeit a bit
hesitantly at first.  It was the last moment of hesitation before Starsky
moved forward again, this time pulling his partner into his arms,
deepening the kiss and leaning back, maneuvering them until they were
lying on the couch in a tight embrace.  When the need to breathe forced
them apart, Starsky grinned down at Hutch.

     "That one was a lot better than the first one."

     "Yeah, well, I guess I could have been wrong...you know, when
I said you weren't a good kisser."

     "You *were* wrong, blondie," Starsky teased, moving back
down for another.  "How's your head?"

     "A little sore, but not too bad.  Don't worry about it, babe,"
Hutch said, smiling softly and lightly caressing the side of Starsky's
face.

     "Just wanted t'be sure you weren't gonna tell me you had a
headache just when we got to the good part."

     "You ready to get to the good part?"

     "I'm kinda tired'a talking, Hutch.  I love you, you love me, the
kissing's great--if you were a woman, we'd be in the sack by now."

     "But I'm not a woman, and neither are you."

     "Right now, I don't care if you're a space alien," Starsky said. 
Though there was a slight smile on his face, the tone of his voice was
dead serious.  "I love you, Hutch.  I don't care about anything else."

     "I love you too, Starsk.  I think maybe we've made ourselves
miserable enough avoiding it...that even if things are rough for us...
facing it together beats avoiding it alone."

     "So, uh, do I get invited into that big brass bed'a yours or do I
have to ravage you on the couch?"

     "Maybe *I'm* going to ravage *you.*"

     "Whoever's gettin' ravaged, bed is more comfortable.  More
room to ravage," Starsky added, flexing his eyebrows.

     "Once we go in there..."  Hutch swallowed.  "There's no turning
back, Starsk.  It's for real."

     "It's for real now, babe.  I can't turn back, and I'm not lettin' you
go."

     "Let's go to bed, huh?"  Hutch suggested, his voice husky and
strained.

     The short walk to Hutch's sleeping alcove seemed like miles,
and now that they were standing again, a little of the old awkwardness
was back.  Never one to linger in indecision for long, Starsky started
unbuttoning his shirt.

     "Wh-what are you d-doing?"  Hutch asked, staring at Starsky as
he tossed the garment aside and started unzipping his jeans.

     "When's the last time you took somebody to bed with all your
clothes on?"  Starsky moved toward Hutch, and taking his face gently
in both hands.  "You don't have be nervous with me, Hutch."  He
leaned in and planted a quick, gentle kiss on Hutch's lips.  The rarely-heard 
stutter hadn't been lost on Starsky.  "You're beautiful, babe, and I
love ya more than anything.  Nothin' to be nervous about."  Starsky
distracted Hutch with another kiss, while his fingers found the buttons
on Hutch's shirt, finally opening it and pushing it off his partner's
shoulders.  Pulling back, he ran a finger inside the waistband of Hutch's
jeans.  "Last one naked has to buy breakfast in the morning," Starsky
challenged, flexing his eyebrows.  

     Predictably, Hutch laughed--and happily complied in shedding
his jeans, underwear, shoes and socks at as rapid a rate as Starsky did. 
There was a shared sense of relief mixed with the excitement--both
were already half hard, giving the two beginners the confidence that at
least their bodies knew what they were doing, even if they didn't.  

     "Guess I'm not showin' you anything you haven't seen about a
hundred times already,"  Starsky said, feeling a little awkward moving
back into Hutch's arms, now that the barrier of clothing was gone. 
Holding each other was old hat.  Holding each other *naked* was a
whole different ball game.

     "The other times, I didn't get to look," Hutch whispered hotly
against his ear.  

     "You feel good, babe.  So soft...and *hard* at the same time." 
The words were clumsy at best, but the only way Starsky could think of
to describe the feeling of his partner's body.  Hard muscles and
considerable strength, covered in that wonderfully fair, smooth, satiny
skin.  "Smells as good as it looks," Starsky observed with a grin as he
probed the silky strands of hair with his nose.  

     "Never thought I'd say this...but I think I like having a lover
with chest hair..."

     "Not really a good quality in a woman."  Starsky snorted a
nervous little laugh, feeling relieved that his smooth-skinned partner,
who was used to bedding all smooth-skinned ladies, wasn't repelled by
the dark body hair that was pressing against him now.  

     "Hey."  Hutch caught Starsky's face in both hands this time. 
"Remember what you told me?  You don't have to be nervous with me,
either, Starsk."

     "Maybe we oughtta try gettin' in the bed?"  Starsky suggested,
his smile widening.  

     Together, they moved to the bed, and pushing the covers back
somewhat clumsily, Hutch got in first, sliding back to make room for
his partner.  Then they were back in each other's arms again, kissing,
and caressing, the initial awkwardness all but forgotten.  

     Breaking a kiss, Hutch moved down Starsky's jaw, trailing hot,
soft kisses in a path down his neck to the hollow of his throat, then
slowly moved out toward his shoulder.  Starsky's hands slid into
Hutch's hair, a little moan catching in his throat as the traveling lips
descended on a nipple and began sucking lightly.  

     "Oh, God..."  Starsky groaned, arching into the sensation.  He'd
always loved being touched or sucked this way, but had discovered
early on that not many women lingered over a man's nipples the way he
did over hers.  But then Hutch was no woman...and Starsky's heart
soared at the realization that he really didn't care.  His physical arousal
was second in its intensity only to the love he felt in his heart for the
beautiful man making love to him so gently and deliciously.  He gasped
out Hutch's name as the hot mouth fastened on the second nipple now,
teasing it to the same wet hardness as its mate.  

     Hutch's large hands were moving down his back, then grasping
his ass in two powerful handfuls, squeezing and releasing the flesh in
time with the sucking.  Helplessly, he began humping against Hutch's
thigh, which was deliciously thrust between his legs, his own hands
skimming the long back, finally siezing the liberty that was now his to
stroke and knead the firm but pliant flesh of Hutch's ass.  He smiled at
the gasp of pleasure that earned him, a strained utterance of his name
that came out as a hot puff of breath against a sweetly-tormented
nipple.

     Torn between wanting Hutch's mouth to never leave where it
was, and wanting the shared intimacy of their kissing back, he
encouraged his lover's face upward again, claiming those full lips
eagerly.  

     "Love you, babe...love you so much," he said against Hutch's
mouth before moving lower, kissing his way down that long, smooth
neck, remembering the path Hutch's mouth had followed.  When he felt
the small, hardening bud under his mouth, he started a gentle sucking
pressure, drawing a throaty moan from Hutch.  

     "So good, love..."  Hutch muttered, running his fingers through
Starsky's curls.  "Love you," he breathed, arching into the stimulation
as Starsky bathed the second nipple with his tongue, then fastened his
mouth to it.  "Starsk...I'm getting close, babe," Hutch said, encouraging
Starsky to move up for another kiss.  

     "What do you wanna do?"  Starsky asked, moving in for another
kiss.  His new lover's hard cock was pressing against his stomach now
as they kissed, his own painful arousal brushing against it, sending
electric jolts through both of them.  

     "Maybe one of us ought to...uh...you know, get on top
and...move."

     "Get on top?"  Starsky panicked a little at the mental imagery. 
Eventually, he wanted to do anything and everything with Hutch, but at
that moment, either of them being "on top" of the other frankly scared
the hell out of him.  

     "Just for some good leverage to move, babe," Hutch reassured. 
"Try straddling me, huh?  I don't think that position's such a great idea
for my back right now."

     "Oh, man, I forgot--are we hurting your back?"

     "Not if I take it easy.  It'll be okay in a couple days, but I just
can't get too athletic tonight.  Means you've got to do more of the
work."

     "Typical," Starsky teased affectionately as they rolled Hutch
into his back and Starsky stretched out on top of him, his legs
straddling his lover's body.  He tried an experimental thrust down,
bringing their groins together, groaning at the almost painful pleasure.  

     "Oh, yeah, babe, do it," Hutch goaded, biting on his bottom lip,
closing his eyes.  

     Starsky began a rhythmic thrusting movement, sliding the two
hard cocks against one another, his body's motion barely under his
conscious control as the pleasure built.  Hutch was making the most
delightful little broken sounds of pleasure, and Starsky buried his
fingers in the soft blond hair that was fanned out on the pillow.  Hutch's
hands were moving up and down his back, finally settling on his
writhing ass while Starsky nestled the side of Hutch's face, buring his
nose in the soft strands of hair on the pillow.  When he came, it was
with a muffled shout of Hutch's name, rapidly followed by Hutch's own
outcry, accompanied by a spasmodic tightening of the grip on Starsky's
buttocks.  

     Slumping tiredly into his lover's waiting arms, Starsky sighed
contentedly, settling his face in the warm, damp niche between Hutch's
head and shoulder.  He relished being cuddled this way for nothing
more than the pleasure of it, for no other reason than because he loved
and was loved this much.  

     "Are you just quiet down there or did you pass out?"  Hutch
teased, settling a large hand in Starsky's hair, massaging his scalp
gently.  His reward was a deep-throated growl of appreciation, not
unlike the purr of a large cat.  

     "Just happy to be here, darlin'," he said, his voice barely rising
above a whisper.  "Feels so good bein' with you like this."

     "What are we gonna do, Starsk?"  The question was laced with
fear, but not regret. 

     "I know we've got a lot of hard times ahead of us.  It's just hard
to think about anything in the world hurtin' me when you're holdin' onto
me like this.  You always make things okay for me, babe.  No matter
what."

     "I can't change the world, Starsk.  I can't make it safe for us to
love each other, to live our lives the way we want..."  Hutch sighed, and
tightened his hold on Starsky.  "But I'm not turning back now."

     "You're right about that."  Starsky moved up, resting his elbows
on the mattress, looking down into Hutch's troubled face.  Hutch's
beautiful face always seemed a bit too troubled and serious these days,
and on an impulse, Starsky kissed the worry line between the fine
blond eyebrows.  "I'm never lettin' you go, babe.  I don't know how
we're gonna get by exactly...but I guess we've just gotta be careful, and
love each other, and take it one day at a time."

     "I want to believe it's that easy," Hutch said a little sadly, taking
Starsky's face in his hands.  "Guess nothing worthwhile is easy, huh?"

     "Anything worth lovin' as much as I love you is worth fightin'
for.  I'm never lettin' you go, Hutch, and I won't let anything bad happen
to ya either.  I promise."

     "You can't promise that, babe.  You know that.  Anymore than I
can."

     "I said I wouldn't *let* anything bad happen, darlin'.  I know
there's some stuff out there I can't stop, but I'm always gonna protect
you and love you and take care of you as long as I'm livin', the best I
can."

     "In sickness and in health, huh?"  Hutch said, with a soft smile.

     "For better or for worse," Starsky responded, with a seriousness
that startled them both momentarily.

     "For richer or poorer," Hutch added, smiling now.

     "And even after death thinks it managed to part us," Starsky
concluded, grinning widely.  "I do," he added, the grin fading to a soft
smile.

     "I do," Hutch repeated.

     "You know what, blintz?"  Starsky asked, settling back into
Hutch's arms, seemingly unruffled by having just exchanged wedding
vows with his partner.  Getting the message that Starsky wanted more
cuddling, Hutch tightened his grip again, kissing the soft curls.

     "What, babe?"

     "I'm glad we finally took our blindfolds off today," he said
quietly.  Hutch closed his eyes and smiled, resting his head against
Starsky's.

     "So am I, love.  So am I."  Hutch released a long breath.  "We'll
work the rest of it out somehow."

     "Yeah...because we're worth it."  Starsky roused himself before
dozing off.  "You wanna sleep on your side, babe?"  he asked, thinking
of Hutch's recently-offended back.  Being flat on his back with another
body on top of him all night would probably just about incapacitate his
partner by the following morning.  

     "Probably better."  Hutch reluctantly released his partner, who
shifted onto his own side, leaving Hutch the perfect opportunity to
spoon up behind him.  It was just early evening, but being anywhere
but here seemed unthinkable.  

     "Maybe when we wake up, we oughtta send out for pizza,"
Starsky slurred as sleep began claiming him.  

     //Ahh...romance...// Hutch thought, chortling and kissing
Starsky's shoulder.

     "Anything you want, my love," Hutch whispered against a curl-she
ltered ear, smiling when he realized Starsky was already asleep.  

********

THE END