CHAPTER 17b
Starsky shook his head, frantic, gripping the vest tighter, trying to pull Hutch up from the floor. That only told Hutch he was right on the money.
He knelt before Starsky and felt his own hunger surge, felt his erection come up so hard it hurt. He ignored it. His focus was totally on the man before him. "Watch me," he ordered. "Watch me please you. Watch me love you."
The tight black leather pants still clung to Starsky's rear and legs, the silver zippers gleaming, the chrome studs highlighting the unique curve of his legs. As Starsky stood there bare-chested, his heavy cock jutting from his open fly, Hutch thought he was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.
When he grasped Starsky's erection at the base, Starsky lurched, overwhelmed by the sudden contact. Hutch didn't give him time to think, time to react, but fed the angry cock to his mouth. He was starving for it, so eager he was shaking. As Starsky's sculpted maleness filled him, as his tongue teased and tantalized the man he couldn't help craving, he knew with an aching certainty that he'd never feel this way about another lover again. That any act of passion he might ever share with another human being would never be more than a pale reminder of his union with Starsky.
Starsky's body was wracked with violent shudders as soon as Hutch went down on him. Almost immediately, he released his hold on the leather vest and slid both hands into Hutch's hair. His hands were trembling as he gripped the long blond strands. With a ruthless need, he pulled Hutch onto him, demanding more, needing everything Hutch could give him.
He gave it willingly. Relaxing his jaw, he took Starsky in deep, endured the powerful thrusts that nearly choked him. His tongue kept working the rigid column, tracing the veins, teasing the ridge, pressing against the sweet spot beneath the head.
Starsky cried out softly, mournfully, but when Hutch looked up he saw the indigo eyes riveted on his face. It's hot, isn't it? Watching me blow you. Watching me on my knees, a man, light compared to your dark, giving you what you most desire but can't face. No woman ever made you feel like this.
Starsky suddenly went rigid, his hands tightening painfully in Hutch's hair as Hutch fondled his tight balls through the leather pants. He gave a sharp bark of a shout and then he came, the pent-up frustration of the entire night erupting in a searing flood of semen. Hutch drank it eagerly, letting it fill the hunger deep inside him.
You couldn't give this to her, even though you wanted to. You had to save it for me. And I want it, god help me, I want it so bad.
Hutch expected the orgasm to give Starsky some relief. But that didn't happen. His body was still bowstring tight, his trembling hadn't stopped, and his erection was still achingly hard.
As soon as he finished coming, he pulled Hutch off his over-sensitized organ. With one hand buried in his hair and the other gripping his arm, he hauled Hutch up onto his feet. He was rough, hurried, and still showed that frantic urgency he'd had all night.
Hutch's own erection was strangling in his pants, but he couldn't pay attention to that. Not with Starsky's unbottled rage coming to the surface.
"You liked doin' that to me, didn't you?" Starsky accused him, looking him directly in the eye.
In spite of the fact that Hutch couldn't move his trapped head, he smiled lazily and licked his lips. "Sucking your cock? Make no mistake. I loved it. Almost as much as you did. You belong in my mouth. In my bed. And you know it."
Starsky's jaw clenched and he moaned a low growl. He gave Hutch a short shake. "You never did know when to shut up."
Reckless, Hutch threw gasoline on the fire. "Don't you want to taste yourself in my mouth? Just once? I love your flavor. I love giving you head."
"Shut up!" Starsky ordered. "You think this is a game? You think you can keep pushing me?"
"I think you want to fuck. I think you need to."
Starsky shoved him so hard toward the bedroom, he nearly lost his footing. As he propelled him toward the brass bed, Hutch suddenly shifted, pushing his weight back, stopping them before they got into the bedroom.
"Oh, no, we're not doing this dry because you're in a rush!" Hutch snapped at him, holding his place.
Starsky looked baffled.
"Dammit, Starsky, contrary to your jealous fantasies, I've never done this before! The lotion we've been using is too thin. There's Crisco in the kitchen, over the sink. Get it."
This only confused Starsky more. "Crisco...?
"Don't be dense! We need lubricant! And Crisco works."
Understanding dawned on Starsky. "For someone who's never done it before, you sure know a hell of a lot about it," he snarled, hauling Hutch over to the kitchen so he could grab the blue and white can off the open shelf.
"You'd be surprised what a bartender can learn in just a short time," Hutch taunted.
"You think so, huh?" Starsky said, towing a more cooperative Hutch toward the bedroom. He dropped the Crisco onto the night stand, then, as quick as a snake, grabbed the ends of Hutch's shirt and tore it open, sending buttons flying.
As Starsky rushed to drag the shirt and vest off his arms in one quick move, Hutch thought he should try to slow this down. The determined anger on Starsky's face hadn't thawed an inch.
"Starsky, wait," Hutch said softly, trying to cool some of that frantic heat. "I haven't showered yet. Let's do that together before we--"
"You didn't worry about that with Whitelaw," Starsky snapped, going to Hutch's waistband. "You think I care about your sweat?"
Hutch had a jolting memory of lying in Starsky's arms, clawing at him while he was incredibly filthy, sweating profusely, trying to dry out from an enforced addiction in Huggy's upstairs room. No, Starsky wouldn't be the least bit fazed by a little hard-earned sweat.
As Starsky pulled the zipper of Hutch's leather pants down, Hutch tried running his hands over Starsky's bare back, trying to soothe his urgency, but Starsky was beyond that. He shoved Hutch onto the bed at the same time he yanked the white pants and underwear down around his thighs.
Hutch's cock surged wildly at the sudden freedom, and the tension of Starsky's enraged desire was making him incredibly hot. As Hutch reached for his own erection, wanting to soothe it with a gentle stroke, Starsky knocked his hand away, and instead took hold of Hutch's sensitive flesh with a punishing grip.
The sensation of his warm palm and the tightness of his hold drove Hutch wild and he arched up. "Starsky!" he cried out, gripping the bedspread.
"Yeah," Starsky said, his voice rough, "don't forget who you're with!"
As quickly as he'd captured him, Starsky released him. But before Hutch could react to that, Starsky had pushed him further onto the bed, then flipped him over neatly onto his stomach. He pulled the white pants down past Hutch's knees.
Expecting Starsky to strip the pants the rest of the way off and remove his boots, he felt his first surge of alarm when Starsky, still semi-clad himself, clambered onto the bed behind him. Hutch looked over his shoulder, saw Starsky freeing his own cock and balls from the leather pants and reaching for the Crisco.
"Starsk! Hold it...!" He'd thought once he'd had Starsky in bed, he'd be able to seduce him, satisfy him with a long, slow loving, the way he'd done every other night. He'd never seen Starsky like this before, didn't think he could be this rough in bed. He'd always been a man to take his pleasure languidly, repeatedly, and who was just as concerned with his partner's pleasure as his own. Suddenly, Hutch didn't know this stranger.
"You wanted the Crisco," Starsky said abruptly, "I got it. What else?"
"Starsky, come on, this isn't like you. Slow down. You don't have to rush me like this."
Starsky's eyes met his. They were nearly black with need, dark with all the passions tormenting him. "You wanted to do the dream, Hutch. This is it."
That hadn't occurred to him. He imagined that he'd been in control during the dream. Thought that was why it upset Starsky so much. That Hutch lured him into the act. Made him do it. He would've never imagined Starsky to be this desperate, this out of control in his own dream.
This was your idea, hotshot. Get ready to take it like a man.
The pants wrapped around his calves were like leg irons as Starsky climbed between them. Starsky's own dark leathers were still on, with his fly open wide enough to allow his genitals complete freedom.
Is this why the dream always upset you so much? Because in it you took whatever you wanted? Because you forced me?
Behind him, Starsky put the can back on the nightstand, then reached under Hutch with a slick hand. He grabbed Hutch's cock again and the wild sensation of the cool shortening against his heated erection brought him up on his knees. He hissed as Starsky stroked him, his hold slippery and strong. As apprehensive as Hutch was about what was happening between them, he couldn't escape the raw pleasure Starsky was giving him. He stroked him hard, held him tight, pumping him evenly, deliberately, forcing his excitement.
"Starsk! Oh, god, Starsk!" he gasped out, involuntarily surging into the stroke, feeling himself falling out of control, plummeting into the same frantic desire Starsky was feeling. His legs trembled, but he kept himself elevated on his knees, wanting Starsky to have all the freedom he needed to make him insane.
"You like this?" Starsky demanded. "My hand on you? Is it making you hard? Making you hot?"
Hutch couldn't hold back his groan of pleasure. "It's always good with you," he gasped, knowing exactly what Starsky didn't want to hear. "You hold me just right. Stroke me like an expert. You're so good at this...."
Starsky's hand tightened so hard around his cock, for a moment Hutch couldn't breathe, then he eased up again and continued pumping him smooth and steady. Hutch was almost dizzy he was needing this so much.
He felt Starsky reach and fumble with something, then he was back, barely missing a stroke. Hutch could hear his panting, and knew he was incredibly excited. That pleased him so much he almost didn't care what might happen. Until a slippery finger stroked up and down the crevasse of his ass. He shuddered under that touch as it found his anus. Starsky rubbed a cool dab of Crisco around it carefully, and then, less carefully, inserted a digit all the way in up to the knuckle.
He lurched forward instinctively to escape the penetration, but Starsky's unforgiving grip on his cock didn't allow him much maneuvering room. He tried to stifle his cry of surprise, but couldn't. Then the finger moved inside him, slowly at first then more forcefully, in and out, getting him used to the idea. He couldn't help resisting it, his body's reactions were largely out of control. Starsky just kept working his cock, rubbing and sliding against his overheated hard-on, and soon Hutch's ass relaxed. The finger taking him moved harder, deeper, making him open for it.
Starsky twisted his hand, and suddenly, his fingertip stroked something inside Hutch. His whole body lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, jeezus!" It was electric, incandescent, and Hutch jerked away, needing to escape the incredible intensity of it. But Starsky wouldn't let him. He had him trapped between his cock and his ass. Hutch grabbed a pillow and moaned into it, clutching it like a life line.
Starsky lay across his back until his mouth was next to his ear. "You'd be surprised what a bouncer can learn in just a short time," he hissed.
Hutch squeezed his eyes shut, knowing things were not going to go the way he'd imagined. He'd lost all control of this situation. And the worst thing about that was his lack of control only added to the frighteningly pleasurable sensations rocketing through him.
"Starsky! Starsky!" he cried out, asking for something, but he didn't know what.
"Keep sayin' my name," Starsky growled in his ear. "Make sure you don't forget who I am."
The digit left him with shocking suddenness, but before Hutch could recover and catch his breath, it was back with more lube, and a friend.
Starsky's two fingers pierced him like an arrow and he shouted into the pillow, trembling wildly. The invading fingertips zeroed in on his prostate and he nearly came when they stroked him. But Starsky's hand tightened down on his erection, the same way Hutch had held him the other night to slow down his orgasm. He felt sweat break out all over his body as Starsky finger-fucked him into a mind-numbing pleasure. He could hear himself making low groans of delight into the pillow he now clutched with all his strength. He wondered distantly if a man could die from too much pleasure as his heart drummed frantically in his chest.
"You like it, huh?" Starsky asked through his own panting. "Say it, Hutch. Tell me you like it."
"Starsky!" Hutch cried out. The sexual onslaught was washing over him, drowning him. He could barely catch his breath.
"Say it! I need to hear it, Hutch. I need to know."
He could hear an edge of pleading in Starsky's demands and struggled to give him what he wanted. It was his dream, and Hutch had promised to fulfill it. "Your hands! Oh, god, your hands...you're making me love it. The way you're handling me...damn!"
Starsky rotated his fingers inside him, making Hutch want to leap out of his skin. He did it again, then forced a third finger in. Hutch grunted, the inescapable truth of where this journey was going filling him with sudden fear. He fought it, not wanting it to affect what was about to happen. This is Starsky. My partner. My lover. The only lover I want....
He tried to gather his fraying wits about him. Starsky kept demanding vocal assurances from him. He remembered, too, Starsky's reaction to his voluntarily going down on him. He'd wanted Hutch to tell him then, too, that he'd liked it, that he'd wanted to do it. He remembered Starsky's tortured expression when he insisted he loved blowing him.
He doesn't want to rape me, Hutch realized through his fog of pleasure. He wants me to want it. He wants me to offer it to him...because I want to. That's the part that bothers him the most in the dream. That I could want to. That I could really like it.
It would be an easy thing to tell Starsky the truth. Maybe if Hutch was as honest as he could be about this, it would break through that black curtain around Starsky's memories. Maybe it would free the love Hutch was convinced Starsky felt for him.
He sucked in air desperately, needing it for his voice. "Starsky...baby...come on...I'm climbing the wall for you. Quit teasing me, dammit." He looked over his shoulder, saw the intense expression on Starsky's face. He bit his lip, unsure for a moment if he could get the words out. "Go on, Starsk! Fuck me, damn you. I need you...!"
Starsky squeezed his eyes shut as if he'd just been shot. He bent over Hutch, touching his forehead to his spine. "God, Hutch," he groaned, sounding like a man in pain, "I want you so bad. Been wantin' you.... Don't ever think I don't want you. No matter what happens...don't ever think that."
Then he rose up over Hutch. Quickly, as though he simply couldn't wait another second, he removed his hand from Hutch's ass, and instantly replaced it with his warm, slick cock.
Reality crashed in on Hutch in a heartbeat. He's really going to do this! he thought with a fight-or-flight reaction he couldn't suppress. Starsky's going to--
He was over-stimulated, hyper from everything they'd been through, and he reacted on pure instinct. He surged away from Starsky's advance, trying to escape his grip. Starsky responded to Hutch's instinctive need to escape with a predatory need to pursue. The two of them lurched across the bed together, as Starsky clung to him tenaciously. Hutch grabbed hold of the brass headboard, and pulled himself up with the sheer power in his arms. As he knelt upright, clutching the metal framework, Starsky impaled him with one forceful lunge.
The shock of that sudden, stunning entry stopped Hutch cold. He cried out and flung his head back. It came to rest on Starsky's shoulder. Starsky gathered Hutch tightly to him, his chest pressed against Hutch's spine, his groin pressed against Hutch's rear, his left hand holding Hutch's cock painfully tight.
"Don't move," Starsky growled in his ear. "Don't move. Just breathe."
Hutch saw stars spangling behind his eyes as his body fought the ruthless invader. But there wasn't just pain. He expected pain, he could've handled just pain. It was the searing pleasure of Starsky's broad glans pressing strongly against his already sensitized prostate that nearly made him pass out.
I need to come! Oh, please, god, let me come!
But Starsky's grip on his cock made that impossible.
"Breathe, Hutch!" Starsky said, sounding angry. "Breathe, dammit!"
Hutch forced himself to obey, sucking in a huge lungful of air. Then he realized that the body holding him, supporting him, was trembling.
He's losing it. It's too good for him. To his own amazement, Hutch started to smile. He likes it too much, fucking me, and that's making him crazy.
"You like being in there, don't you?" he whispered against the side of Starsky's face. "You like fucking me. Now you tell me. Give me that much."
Starsky shook his head mournfully and wouldn't look at Hutch. But he heard him say quietly, "Can't believe this.... Hutch.... So good with you. Every time...."
The excrutiating spasm in Hutch's ass suddenly surrendered to the inevitable, and his lower body relaxed all at once. The presence of Starsky's cock inside him was no longer painful, just tantalizing.
"Go on," Hutch told him. "Put your mark on me. Make me yours. I want you to. Starsky...be my lover...fuck me...."
Starsky moaned throatily behind him and shivered violently. But he did as he was told. As he pumped up into his body, Hutch was stunned to realize he wasn't all the way in yet. He hung onto the metal bedstead as tightly as Starsky hung on to him, until finally Starsky was fully sheathed in him. It was an amazing sensation. The stimulation to his prostate was so relentless, so overwhelming, that he didn't think he'd could take much more. Having broken down all of Hutch's resistance, Starsky started fucking more strongly, pumping deeper, harder, steadily taking what he needed. When he combined his powerful penetration with a matching stroke from his hand, Hutch could do nothing but completely yield.
He'd never felt helpless in bed before, not even that first night. He'd always felt that as lovers, they were equally matched, just as they'd always been in their partnership. He couldn't say that now. Hutch couldn't move. Impaled by Starsky's cock, kept in place by his controlling hand and the force of his compelling passion, all Hutch could do was cling to the support of the headboard and the sturdy body behind him. His eyes were open but he couldn't see anything. All he could experience were the sensations inside and outside his body. He realized he'd never known what it felt like to be possessed. Dimly, he thought, if this is what women had to experience every time they went to bed with a man, he wondered how they endured it.
"Starsky, please," he gasped, "let me come. I need to come so bad." It occurred to him as he said it that he'd willingly given up any control he might've had over his own orgasm. He accepted the fact that at this moment he wasn't his own man anymore. It was fact. He wouldn't argue. He needed to come.
"Not yet," Starsky ordered. "Not yet. I'll tell you when."
The words rocked Hutch, but only resulted in heightened sensation, something he'd thought impossible a moment ago. To his dismay, his body obeyed the order, even as his need for release surged.
Starsky pressed his mouth against Hutch's ear. "You're mine now, Hutch. You belong to me. No one else. Only me."
Hutch nodded, in complete agreement. No one had ever made him feel half of what he was experiencing at this moment. No one had ever taken him and made him love it. It was unthinkable that he'd ever again let anyone else ever try. "Yours," he gasped. "Only yours. Starsky, please...."
"Soon," he promised. "Not yet."
He wanted to weep, and felt a sob escape before he could stop it.
"You make my cock so hard, Hutch," Starsky whispered into his ear, as if it were a secret they were sharing. "Never felt like this before. You did that to me. Like you always do. There'll never be anyone else for me. I'm yours. Remember that always. No matter what happens."
Hutch gasped as the promised vow ripped through him, tearing into his heart. Oh, god, Starsky. Say you love me. Please, just say it.
"Hutch...," Starsky gasped, his pumping nearly out of control. He moaned as if there were words on his lips he couldn't bear to release, then with a growl, he bit the back of Hutch's neck hard, then his shoulders and his back.
Hutch had nowhere to go to escape the teeth punishing him for the pleasure he was feeling and the pleasure he was giving. He cried out even as he understood. You can't say it, can't release the truth from your own fear. Go on, then, hurt me because I love you. Anything you do to me now is pure pleasure anyway.
Then Starsky's mouth gentled and he kissed the stinging wounds he'd inflicted. "Hutch...," he whispered plaintively. "Oh, god, Hutch...."
Hutch's eyes widened as he felt Starsky swell inside him. He'd tear him apart if this kept up!
Starsky's mouth moved back to his ear. "Come for me, Hutch. Come for me and take me with you."
Hutch's obedience was instant. He groaned low as he erupted powerfully, jetting against the brass bars and the wall behind it, splattering everywhere. His body tightened with every spasm, milking Starsky's cock with powerful contractions.
Starsky laid his forehead against Hutch's shoulder and tried to smother a long cry. He sounded like a man in pain, a man who couldn't bear the joy this was bringing him. The sound broke Hutch's heart.
The orgasm seemed to take so long, but finally Hutch stopped baptizing the wall, and the convulsive rocking behind him slowed and then stopped.
Hutch's legs felt like rubber, shaking hard, and he wondered how much longer they could hold him in this kneeling position. He wondered, too, if he'd have to pry his hands away from the bars he clung to.
Starsky didn't move and Hutch was grateful. If he pulled out too quickly, it would hurt like hell. And also, he couldn't bear the thought of separating, afraid of what would happen once they did.
Starsky released Hutch's shrinking cock and wrapped both arms around him, helping to support him. He wasn't sure how he still had the strength to do that, but he wasn't about to complain. Starsky's hands gently rubbed his abdomen, comfortingly. It felt so good to lie against his body like this, Hutch thought, feeling warm and safe and more satisfied than he'd ever been in his life. For a few quiet moments, the two of them stayed that way, enjoying the afterglow and holding each other close to their hearts.
Suddenly, Hutch became aware that Starsky was still trembling. His arms tightened around him, then Hutch felt a drop of warm moisture strike his back. And then another.
Can I pretend those are tears of joy, just for a minute? he thought, even though he knew it was a futile hope.
Then suddenly, Starsky's organ softened and slipped away from him. It only hurt a little, but the sudden sense of separation was far more physically painful. Does he feel any of that, or is he relieved it's over? Hutch found he craved some reassurance.
Starsky climbed over his legs, while still holding onto Hutch. "Can you stay there just a minute more?" he asked, his voice soft. He was back in control of his emotions.
"A minute, maybe," Hutch admitted. "I'm ready to collapse."
Without comment, Starsky left the bed and went into the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a clean towel and wet washcloth.
"Hang on one more minute," he told Hutch, then carefully washed and dried his genitals. He was raw from the rough handling and couldn't help reacting even though Starsky was gentle. Then Starsky moved behind him and tenderly washed his ass. He struggled not to show his discomfort but he was really sore.
Starsky held the warm cloth against his bruised anus and let it soothe. "You're bleeding, Hutch," he said tightly.
He sighed. "Virgins usually do, Starsky," he said drolly. "I've got something that'll help in the bathroom. I'll put it on later."
Starsky nodded solemnly. When he removed the cloth, he must've been satisfied with the situation, since he carefully dried Hutch.
"I gotta lie down, Starsky," Hutch said. It was either lie down or fall down.
"Hang on," Starsky said, and put the cloth and towel on the floor. He moved around to Hutch's feet and pulled off his boots and socks, then removed the bunched up pants from around his ankles. Then, he wedged his shoulder under Hutch's arm, put a strong arm around his waist, and said, "Okay, I've got you."
Where are you getting that energy from? Hutch wondered wearily, as he released the brass bars, and slung an arm around his partner. His freed legs didn't seem to want to move, but with some coaxing they finally cooperated. Starsky pulled the bedspread away, then the sheets, so Hutch could slide under them. He sighed with gratitude when he was finally horizontal.
Once Starsky had him carefully settled, he started to stand up and move away, but Hutch reached out, grabbed his wrist and held on. "Where are you going?"
"In the condition I'm in...not very far," he answered evasively.
"Like maybe as far as the couch?" Hutch guessed.
Starsky looked guilty but didn't answer.
"Come on, Starsky," Hutch said, trying hard not to sound like he was pleading. "I need you right now. Here. With me."
Starsky seemed amazed. "You want me...to get in bed with you? After all that?"
Hutch was too weary for this. "Most especially after 'all that.'"
Starsky seemed torn but finally nodded. "Let me wash up, okay? I'll be right back." It was only then that Hutch realized Starsky had laced himself back up into his leather pants.
Keeping yourself safe? Hutch wondered. From me, or from yourself?
He kept his word and in a few minutes, he returned from the bathroom, kicked his boots off, and removed his pants before climbing into bed.
Not wanting to give him a chance to argue, Hutch moved against him, craving the comfort of his body contact. Instantly, Starsky surrounded him with his arms, pulling him close, as if grateful himself. Hutch rested his head against Starsky's chest, enjoying the soothing sound of his steady heartbeat. Starsky's hands stroked Hutch's back with the same gentling touch he'd used on his abdomen after they'd orgasmed.
Hutch was still basking in afterglow, but he was worried, too. He knew Starsky was troubled by the ferocity of their passion. He wanted to reassure him. And he wanted to deal with his own disappointment. He knew without being told, that Starsky had had no profound revelation because of their love making.
"You won't have that dream anymore, Starsky. I'm sure of it."
Starsky's arms tightened around him. "I could have lived with that dream for a thousand nights, rather than live with the memory of how I just treated you." His voice was tight, anguished.
Hutch leaned up on an elbow and stared into Starsky's troubled expression. "Don't regret it, Starsky, please. I don't think I could stand it if you did. It was good for me, I swear it was. Sure, it was a little rough, but we're grown, strong men. We can handle that--"
Starsky swallowed hard. He touched Hutch's cheek. "That's right, Hutch. We're men. But I sure didn't treat you like a man just now."
Hutch took hold of the hand caressing his cheek and pressed it to his face. "I felt like a man. A powerful man who could handle anything his lover needed. It was good for me. You didn't do anything to me I didn't want."
Starsky looked pained. "I was outta control, Hutch. I couldn't have stopped if you'd begged me to. I wouldn't have heard you. I was totally into my own need. If you'd fought me, I'd have still fucked you. That's not how lovers are supposed to treat each other. Even if they're both men."
"You needed me, Starsky," Hutch insisted. "And I needed that from you. No one's ever needed me like that. For the first time in my life...I felt totally fulfilled."
Starsky looked alarmed. "If we gotta have sex like that every time for you to feel fulfilled--"
Hutch smiled tenderly. "I think what happened tonight was pretty unique. I can't imagine things will ever go quite like that again."
It didn't seem to help. Starsky still had that anguished look on his face. Hutch waited, knowing there was still something else Starsky needed to reveal.
"I still didn't remember the first night," he said desultorily. "It's still just a blank spot in my brain."
"Okay," Hutch said. "You didn't remember. We'll live with it."
Starsky shook his head as if Hutch still wasn't following him. "Don't you understand? Even after...what we just did.... Hutch, I...I could never do those things for you. I couldn't even make myself kiss you, even while.... I can't imagine being able to go down on you, never mind--"
"Let me fuck you," Hutch said bluntly. "Look, if that's all that's bothering you, let it go. I'm not keeping score, Starsky. Not every couple is perfectly compatible. I can live with that...."
"But I don't know if I can," Starsky said. "It's not fair. Our partnership has always been equal. We've had differences, but ultimately, things have always been fair between us. There's nothing fair about this. You're in love with me, and willing to give me everything. And I'm willing to take it. There's nothing fair about that. Even...even fuck buddies fuck each other. It shames me that I can offer you so little, after everything you've given me." He snorted a rueful laugh. "Weird, huh? You got fucked...but I'm the one who feels like less than a man."
Hutch didn't think he could take much more rejection. "You regret it." He knew his voice sounded leaden.
"No," Starsky said, surprising him. "How could I regret the beautiful gift you gave me--all of yourself? No one ever gave me that much, Hutch. I'll never regret that. But I regret the way I treated you."
It was a relief. Hutch couldn't endure the thought that it had all been for nothing. He lay back down, surrounded Starsky with his arms and rested against his chest. Starsky held him close. "Don't regret it, Starsky. It made me happy. You wanted me for your own. That's what I wanted."
He felt Starsky's body finally yield and surrender to sleep. Just before he fell completely under it's spell, he whispered Hutch's name. Hutch listened for a long moment, thinking that he might have something more to say, but nothing else emerged except the sound of Starsky's steady breathing.
Hutch knew Starsky's sleep would be untroubled, and as he settled back down against his lover, thought his would be, too.
But when he finally yielded to rest, he found himself back on that endless beach, walking the shoreline alone. The tide came close, but remained forever out of reach. At least tonight the waves were gentle, almost placid. Yet, Hutch knew if he attempted to walk into the gentle surf it would recede from him and not even wet the bottom of his bare feet.
He paused suddenly, seeing something from the corner of his eye. A dolphin, perhaps? Maybe a seal? He watched as a figure emerged slowly from beneath the water.
It was Starsky. He was beautiful as water dripped from his dark, tangled hair and his erect nipples. His lean, muscular torso was shadowed with soft fur that surrounded his nipples and trailed down in a dark line to the water. Hutch couldn't see his groin which was just beneath the waves, but the partial curve of Starsky's ass that he could see was as shapely as a sculpture. Hutch's heart cried out to him, his beauty making him ache.
Starsky did not look at Hutch, did not seem to be at all aware of his presence. As Hutch watched, Starsky's left hand dipped beneath the gently lapping water. His arm moved, the water rippled, and Starsky watched his own actions with total absorption.
Hutch knew that as he stood and watched, a distant voyeur, Starsky was pleasuring himself in the surf, yielding his seed to the sea, keeping both his pleasure and his treasure for himself. Hutch wanted badly to go to him, put his hand, or mouth, in the place of Starsky's hand and show him how much pleasure a lover could bring.
But he knew if he tried to step into the surf, it would only recede. Starsky was as bound to the ocean as Hutch was to the shore. And he understood that while they would meet again and again on this beach, they would never share a true union.
Starsky's hand stilled, and he loosed his seed into the sea with an expression of placid bliss. Hutch watched that rapturous face as it slowly disappeared beneath the waves. Then he turned and continued walking alone along the endless beach.
It's all we've ever wanted
It's all we've ever needed
Now it's slipping through our fingers
Faster than the speed of night
Faster than the Speed of Night -- Bonnie
Tyler
