CHAPTER 23b
It was warmer on the beach than the last time Hutch had been here. But it was dark, and that made it feel chilly. He looked up at the sky. The sky was completely black, no moon, stars twinkling faintly under the LA smog. Then, as he watched, a thin crescent of brilliant light cut through the darkness. He blinked as the crescent grew thicker, brighter, and the sky began to lighten. The sun had been in total eclipse, and the sky had imitated nighttime, but now the day was breaking through again. In a short time, his eyes were squinting from the sunlight that grew brighter by the minute. It surprised him. All those nights he'd wandered the beach in darkness--had the sun been there the whole time, hidden by the moon?
The breeze coming from the water rustled his simple, loose white cotton shirt and pants. His feet were bare, walking on the pristine, warm white sand. It was a perfect day. Except that he was still alone.
The sea was calmer than he could remember it being in a long time. Tiny waves lapped a few feet away, almost entreating him to step into the ocean. But he couldn't face the rejection of having the ocean retreat from his advance. He wouldn't subject himself to that again.
Something made him look out on the horizon, and he saw it, the ocean parting around a lone figure. It was Starsky, rising out of the sea. Hutch ached to look on him, his beautiful body, his natural grace. He was nude, and water streamed from his tangled curls, dripped provocatively from his nipples, ran through the fine mat of brown hair decorating his chest and abdomen. He had never wanted anyone or anything the way he wanted this man. Who could never be his.
He waited for Starsky to masturbate under the water, sharing his treasure with the ocean, with anyone but Hutch. But the water swirling around Starsky didn't stop at his groin. Instead, it kept receding and Starsky kept rising. Water now streamed off the tip of his cock, down his powerful thighs, his seductively bowed legs until he stood completely exposed, sunlight framing him against the blue water. Hutch was breathless with futile wanting.
Then Starsky looked up and saw him so far away on the lonely shore. Starsky grinned that wonderful, lopsided grin, the one he reserved only for Hutch, and it lit up his face and Hutch's soul. To Hutch's surprise, Starsky began to walk forward, out of the ocean. He was bound to the ocean and it would not leave him, lapping gently around his calves, following wherever he went. Hutch was immobilized, unable to come forward or to leave. But finally, he lifted his arms, held them out as he had done so many nights only to be left empty-hearted.
But this time, Starsky walked willing into his embrace, gathered Hutch in his own arms, and the two held each other tight. The warm water of the ocean splashed around them, joining them in a wet embrace, but Hutch barely noticed. His arms were full of Starsky. It seemed like a miracle. And as Starsky lifted his face to Hutch, his mouth partially open, waiting for a kiss, Hutch moaned and met his mouth. The sun burned warm on their skin, blessing them, even as the ocean swallowed them up, keeping them forever safe in the sanctity of its deep.
Hutch blinked as the dream sensation of breathing underwater shocked him awake. He could hear someone whispering something he couldn't quite make out, but then that stopped. The dream images had been so vivid, he glanced about worriedly, expecting to see nothing but water and Starsky.
Starsky was there all right, but so was bright sunlight, air, dashboard, car seat, and the gleaming red hood of the Torino. He felt disoriented.
"You awake?" a gentle voice asked.
He turned, looking up at Starsky, and realized that he was resting all his weight against him. He sat up and Starsky let him go. "Did I fall asleep?"
"On the way home." Starsky was smiling, as if having Hutch lay all over him in the car was the most charming thing in the world.
Hutch's brain wasn't working right yet. "How long have we been here? It was still dark when I crashed."
"More than an hour. You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to wake you. I read the paper."
Hutch blinked. "Aren't you tired? I feel like I could sleep for a week." He stretched and some of the aches and pains he'd earned made themselves known.
"I'll probably fall apart in an hour," Starsky said, "but right now I'm wired. Lot on my mind."
That reminded Hutch of something he'd been too busy to think about after endless rounds of reports and statements. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Starsky. His need to know the answer to a question was suddenly the only reality in his world. His mouth went dry, but he forced himself to say it anyway. "Tell me...what you remember."
Starsky grinned with an openhearted joy that Hutch hadn't seen for weeks. He felt like his own heart would expand just on the power of that smile. "Like I told you," Starsky said. "I remember everything. Take me too long to tell you here in the car. Come on. Let's go home."
Starsky opened his door and moved around the front of the Torino to open Hutch's. He had an agile grace he had no right to display after all they'd been through this night. He took Hutch's elbow and urged him to his feet. It was only then that Hutch realized where they were. He had automatically assumed Starsky had taken them back to Venice Place. But now he stood squinting in the bright light up at Starsky's house, its familiar wooden facade warm in the California sun. He turned to Starsky, confused. He thought Starsky would never willingly come here again.
Starsky just kept smiling at him. "I remember the ride home. I remember Huggy driving us, while we clung to each other, singing something, and poor Huggy having his hands full just getting us up the stairs. I remember being full of myself, too. Knocking out Russo had been such a rush. I was excited, blood pumping, and wanting something I couldn't define. At least 'til we got upstairs."
He took Hutch's elbow and led him, a bit reluctantly, up his steps to his front door. They entered the unnaturally still house. It was a bit stuffy in the closed up building, so Starsky went around and opened windows, letting a cleansing breeze waft through the house. It immediately seemed more like the old comfortable place it had always been. But Hutch was still wary. Some of it was exhaustion, but some of it was the unreasoning fear that this was all temporary. Whatever Starsky remembered he could just as easily forget after a good night's sleep.
"I remember looking at you at some point. I think it was while we were hanging around the kitchen after Huggy left." Starsky walked around the place, examining everything as though it was helping him recall the events. "You were kind of staring off in space, and I came over to you. Ending up nearly falling on you. But it was while we were together there and I'd started saying something about that time in Brooklyn--that I first realized what it was I was feeling." He walked up to Hutch and moved in close, chest to chest, placing his arms around Hutch in a loose embrace. "I realized how much I loved you. And then I realized how much I wanted you."
Hutch stared at Starsky, knowing his expression was one of worried concern. He had prayed for this, wanted it so fiercely, to have Starsky remember what had happened that night. But now that it had happened he was having trouble trusting it.
"It's okay, Hutch," Starsky said understandingly. "I'm not gonna forget again. I'm not ever gonna forget a single good thing that ever happens between us. I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been all along; I was just too scared to let myself know it. But I know it now. And that's never gonna change."
Hutch felt like he was falling, like nothing around him was real. Some of it was the aftereffects of too much adrenaline and sleep deprivation, but some of it was trying to adjust to something he'd wanted so much but never believed would happen. "Starsk...?"
"Ssssh," Starsky soothed, rubbing his hands up and down his back. "You're thinking too much, Hutchinson. It's hurting your head. I can tell you're two seconds away from complete panic. Everything's okay now. We can relax. We can be happy. We can be in love."
Hutch could only shake his head in disbelief. It was too overwhelming. He didn't know whether to shout in joy, weep in relief, or bolt from this place and never come back. He was too afraid to believe.
"Okay," Starsky said resolutely. "I guess I'll just have to show you."
Starsky's arms tightened around Hutch's waist as Starsky's left hand slid up Hutch's spine. He buried his fingers in Hutch's hair and grabbed a fistful of it, holding his head prisoner so his lips could capture Hutch's yearning mouth. Hutch made a small, helpless sound as Starsky's lips took him. Starsky's kiss was aggressive, strong, taking what he wanted, and what he wanted was Hutch. There was not a hint of hesitation as Starsky's tongue demanded entrance.
Hutch moaned into Starsky's open mouth and yielded without a fight. This moment was just as electric as that shocking instant in the jail, when Starsky had taken his mouth brazenly in front of everyone. Starsky's tongue was as slippery sweet as he remembered, and its teasing, taunting presence in his mouth was intoxicating.
Suddenly, Hutch's entire body came to, responding to what it had been craving for so long. He clutched Starsky hard against him, his arms tightening possessively, his hands roaming everywhere, all his motions frantic with need and near panic. He was groaning, nearly weeping through the incredible kiss, which was too fantastic to believe.
He realized dimly that he was pulling Starsky so hard against him, Starsky was forced to stand on tiptoe, but he didn't complain. He just kept kissing Hutch, as though he could never tire of the taste of Hutch's mouth, the feel of his lips.
Eventually, Starsky pulled away, panting for air. Hutch nearly cried out at the loss, but Starsky released his hair and put his fingertips over Hutch's questing mouth. "It's okay, babe. There's lots more where that came from. Much as you're ever gonna want, ever gonna need. Can't believe I could ever forget something as wonderful as that. Damn, can you kiss."
Hutch surged forward, craving Starsky's mouth. "Don't pull away," he implored. "I've been wanting this from you for so long."
"I'm right here," Starsky assured him, "but you're taking my breath away. And I've got so much more I want to give you. Everything I remember."
Hutch had no idea what Starsky was talking about. All he wanted was to feel their mouths meeting, feel the incredible sensation of the man he loved finally kissing him. Distantly, he remembered the taste and feel of Peter's kiss, how pleasant it was, how nice. Comparing that with Starsky's kiss was like comparing the tiny jolt you might get from a penlight battery to a hit of white-hot lightning. He wanted more lightning.
"Hutch, wait," Starsky said, laughing now. "God, I love how you want me! But I've got something for you. Something I'm aching to give you. Just wait, okay?"
The words made no sense to Hutch who was in a fog of desire. Even when Starsky slowly eased to his knees, Hutch still couldn't make sense of it. But when Starsky carefully unfastened Hutch's white leather pants and pulled his zipper down reverently, as though he were unveiling a work of art, Hutch finally caught on.
Oh, dammit! He's doing the dream--Starsky's dream--only he's switching roles. His organ pulsed so hard, Hutch thought for a dizzying moment he might actually come. His face must've shown his inner turmoil.
"It's okay, Hutch," he soothed, as he gently lifted Hutch's erection out of his briefs. "I've done this before. I remember...how wonderful you taste, how strong you are in my mouth, how hot it made me to do this to you. I want it so bad. Just watch. Just stand still and watch."
As if Hutch had any other choice. He stood there, mesmerized, horrified, tantalized, as Starsky handled him as though it were something he'd always done. Hutch's eyes grew wider as Starsky's tongue slowly ran around the raging red head of his cock. He was so excited, his hard-on leaped in Starsky's hand when he did that. That made Starsky smile, so he did it again and again, moving his tongue wetly over Hutch's crown, teasing his slit, then sucking gently on just the very tip.
Hutch moaned helplessly while sensations rocketed up his spine and down his legs. Then Starsky's mouth took him deeper, swallowing the head completely, then half the shaft. Starsky's hand gripped Hutch tight, grasping the barrel, stroking where his mouth couldn't reach. Hutch's legs trembled as this erotic vision in dark leather tortured him so wonderfully with his mouth and tongue.
Starsky watched Hutch as he sucked him. Those indigo eyes, dark with passion, barely blinked, they just stayed focused on Hutch's face. Those eyes were smiling as Starsky made sex magic on him. He was obviously having a wonderful time driving Hutch to the very edge of his endurance.
Finally, Hutch couldn't take it anymore. He knew if he came he'd be finished. He was too tired, too wild, too exhausted to have more than one shot left in him. He growled in protest, then reached down and clamped his hands around Starsky's upper arms and yanked him to his feet. Starsky complained wordlessly, but the expression on Hutch's face would forestall any arguments. Starsky always knew when Hutch was at his limit.
"No more playing!" Hutch snapped, and reaching down, lifted Starsky under the knees and around the shoulders, and carried him bodily to Starsky's bedroom.
The surprise of being carried must've been a turn-on for Starsky, because he growled, "Goddammit!" and flung his arms around Hutch and pulled him into another searing kiss.
Hutch deposited Starsky rudely in the middle of his own neatly made up bed, then climbed on top of him, never letting their lips separate. They rolled around the bed, kissing, fondling, grabbing at each other, both of them wild with need.
Then, Starsky pushed Hutch down onto his back and loomed over him. "Gotta get this shit off!" he complained, tugging at Hutch's shirt, undoing the buttons with hands that were suddenly clumsy.
Hutch decided cooperation was the best course, and worked to help Starsky strip his vest and shirt. He hesitated a second, wondering if Starsky was as eager as he'd been the last time, and wouldn't let him get his boots off. But, no, Starsky moved down Hutch's legs and towed off first one boot, then the other. Hutch was pushing the tight leather pants and briefs over his hips as Starsky grabbed the hem of the pants and yanked them off.
As Hutch was divested of the last of his clothes, Starsky stopped and stared. He was kneeling on the bed. His expression went soft, and he suddenly seemed to be straining for words. Hutch held still, unsure of what Starsky was thinking or feeling. Finally, all Starsky could do was whisper, "Jeez, Hutch, why'd you have to be so damned beautiful?"
Hutch swallowed hard and answered, "So I could make you love me."
Starsky gasped. Then, as if they'd agreed on it, Hutch sat up and the both of them attacked Starsky's clothes, flinging them off the bed, getting shirt and leather pants and bikini briefs and boots off in record time. And as soon as they were done, Hutch tackled him, pinning him to the bed with his body.
"I've ached to feel you against me again," Hutch swore, and aggressively took Starsky's mouth in another ravaging kiss. Starsky moaned and yielded willingly, writhing under Hutch's body, thrusting against him, searching for more sensation. Then Starsky lurched and they rolled in the bed over and over until Starsky was on top. Their mouths never separated, not even for a second.
Finally, Starsky pulled back, sitting back on his knees. He looked over Hutch as if scrutinizing a fine possession. That was fine with Hutch. The truth was Starsky owned him, and had owned him long before that first night.
Suddenly, Starsky frowned. "Damn, babe, they really worked you over, didn't they?" Lightly, Starsky's fingers traced wheals of bruises on his arms, his ribs, his thighs. Hutch had been feeling them earlier, but now the only sensations he was aware of were pleasurable ones. But Starsky was clearly upset by them.
Hutch's hand trailed over similar darkening marks on Starsky's body. "They'll fade," he said. "We lived through it. We won!"
Starsky's eyes gazed at his. "When Russo said you were dead, taunted me with how you'd been killed...I knew I couldn't survive without you. I went crazy. Total self-destruct. Without you...there's nothing for me."
Hutch had seen the film of Starsky's attack on Russo. It had been a frightening transformation from a man who was obviously trying to control his terrible turmoil, to a man possessed by a demon of rage and vengeance. He should've been repelled by Starsky's out-of-control attempt to kill Russo with his bare hands, but he couldn't help it. He thought it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen--a visual manifestation of the depths of his grief for someone he loved. Hutch only hoped he would always be worthy of that kind of love.
"It's okay," Hutch soothed, pulling him in for another kiss, a gentler one, a reassuring kiss full of promise and a million tomorrows. "I'm here now. I'm never going to leave you."
"Damn, I'm lovin' this," Starsky muttered, as he pulled away. "Gonna make you love it, too." He stretched across Hutch, reaching for the nightstand drawer.
Hutch didn't know how much more love he could wring out of his body, but for Starsky's sake, he'd try. Starsky's reach lifted his chest above Hutch's face, so Hutch rubbed against the softly furred pectorals, found a convenient nipple and nursed gently.
"Oh, yeah," Starsky breathed, opening the drawer and fumbling around.
Hutch assumed he was looking for the lotion. If Starsky was thinking of giving him a rubdown, Hutch's vote was no. He couldn't afford to relax now, he'd fall asleep. And he had no intentions of going to sleep before he'd had the best orgasm of his life.
Hutch's teeth toyed with the hardening nipple and Starsky made a hissing sound of pleasure, then crowed, "Got it! Ah, babe, now just hold still a minute--"
Something cool encircled Hutch's right wrist with a click. His brain was too fogged with lust to really register what Starsky was doing. He released the nipple and tried to see what was going on, but Starsky's upper body was blocking his view. Starsky pulled Hutch's arm over his head, then reached for his other one. Starsky's tongue slithered a long, wet line up under that arm, making him sigh and cooperate. As Starsky's tongue traced a teasing circle in Hutch's palm, he hardly noticed when the other wrist felt something cool enclose it.
When Starsky pulled away this time, it was to move his mouth slowly down over the other upraised arm, then Hutch's jaw, down his neck, and over his chest. His mouth kissed and nipped and licked Hutch wherever it landed. Hutch watched him map his body with passion, and twisted in the velveteen bedspread, the pleasure was so intense. That's when he realized his arms weren't free. Dazedly, he looked over his head.
Starsky had handcuffed him to the bed, running the short chain of cuffs around a slender, but sturdy, carved spindle in the headboard. Hutch just stared at it, as if it were the hardest thing to comprehend. Vaguely, he remembered a morning when he'd handcuffed Starsky to the bed just to be cute. Clearly, Starsky remembered it, too.
"I think this might be a good time for us to talk about some stuff, Hutch," Starsky said, grinning down at him.
Hutch blinked up at him as if he had an IQ of ten. "Talk? My whole body's screaming to come, and you want to talk? Have you gone crazy?"
"You started it," Starsky protested. "You wanted to know what I remembered. Well, I want to tell you. But I didn't want you distracting me. Y'know, Hutch, you get kinda single-minded when you're hot."
Hutch ground his teeth and rattled the handcuffs against the headboard. "You'd better uncuff me in about three seconds, buddy, or you're gonna see 'single-minded' in a major way!"
Starsky just chuckled and leaned down to gently bite one of Hutch's nipples, sending him into orbit. "Just wanted to make sure I had your attention."
He was going to kill him, Hutch promised himself. But not before he made him scream for mercy. "So, tell me already!" Hutch snapped.
Starsky ran his fingers down the center of Hutch's body from his throat to just above his groin, then back up. Then he did it again. Hutch felt his whole body pulsing with need, and being restrained only heightened his frustration and anticipation. "Starsk...please...!"
"You've been wondering all this time about...why I've been so crazy jealous," Starsky said, "even though I wasn't willing to be your lover. I remember why now." His fingers kept tracing patterns of pleasure over Hutch's long body, over his abdomen, his pectorals, his hips.
Hutch's heart was pounding so hard, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to follow what Starsky was trying to tell him.
"That night we were drugged," Starsky said, pinching Hutch's nipple to focus his attention, "I realized just how much I was in love with you. I wanted you like I'd never wanted anything in my life. All of a sudden, all the answers I'd been looking for my whole life, were all there, wrapped up in you." He leaned over and kissed Hutch gently but just for a second.
"In fact," Starsky said, "it all made so much sense to me, I couldn't understand why you couldn't see it, too. You kept resisting, backing off. It just made me crazier. I knew you wanted me, but I knew you were hesitant, too. So, I got the idea that maybe it was just the heat of the moment for you, just the sex, in spite of what you were saying. That you knew it would be good between us, just because we cared for each other so much, but that you weren't serious. Not like me. It panicked me. To find the one thing in the world that I'd been searching for...and not be able to keep it. Even as I made love to you, I was tortured with fears of what would happen the first time some pretty lady gave you the eye. I couldn't compete with that. That's why I wanted you fuck me. I thought maybe, if I gave you that it might be enough to hold you."
"That's why you kept asking me, demanding--? Why you got so wild over Peter...?"
Starsky's eyes bore into him. "I thought it was women I was going to lose you to--the thought of having to worry about both women and men was more than I could handle. Only, I didn't consciously realize that, once I'd forgotten everything the next morning. But the insecurity was still there. Even though I was the one constantly driving you away. My insecurities, my need to possess you never left. Still hasn't."
So, handcuffing him wasn't just to hold him in place until Starsky could say what he needed to. It was to make a point. Hutch's heart melted. He would've never believed his over-confident partner would be so afraid of losing him. He relaxed and smiled at his lover. "You've got nothing to worry about, Starsk. You're all I'll ever want. All I've ever wanted. So, go on. Possess me. Make me yours. I surrender."
Starsky made a small sound in his throat, then leaned over and took Hutch's mouth. Hutch yielded, offering himself completely. If Starsky needed to put him in leg-irons, bolt the door, keep Hutch chained to the bed, right now that was okay with him. He'd already been chained to Starsky's heart long ago.
"I need you to be mine, Hutch, only mine," Starsky whispered against his mouth, his hands roving his body, learning every inch of him. "No one else's!"
Hutch writhed under the tantalizing touch and made his promise. "Yours, babe, yours. Anything you want. Forever. Always. Yours."
Starsky's mouth kissed all over Hutch's face, down his cheek, then attacked his ear. He sucked the lobe, then licked all around the shell before suggestively probing deep with his tongue. Restlessly, Starsky's mouth moved lower, down the column of his neck, his collarbone, then over his chest, toying with nipples already hardened with excitement.
"Starsky, your mouth! Your mouth!" He was incoherent with desire, and felt dizzy at the constant battering of pleasure as Starsky traveled slowly down his form. He rattled the cuffs, aching to touch his love, feel the dense curls tangle around his fingers. But Starsky needed to own him, so he stopped fighting the cuffs and accepted Starsky's need.
"Mmmmm," Starsky purred, "my mouth...and your big, sweet cock...." And without warning, he pulled Hutch's organ between his lips and went down on him with determination.
Hutch rocked helplessly, then, remembering the mirror, suddenly looked up. He could see Starsky's beautiful spine bowed over him as his head worked up and down. They were a picture of passion, Hutch's arms restrained over his head, his body stretched diagonally across the colorful bedspread, with Starsky feasting hungrily on him. He was a willing prisoner to Starsky's powerful passion, and the picture of them like this was burned forever into his mind. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.
He watched Starsky going down on him with amazement. Except for the sensations exploding within him, he thought he might as well be watching a fantasy, since he could still barely believe it.
When Starsky's wet finger stroked his anus, he knew that was stark reality. He froze, his eyes widening, and realized Starsky was watching his every reaction from the corner of his eye. Starsky's hand was shaking as he tenderly penetrated Hutch and, for a single heartbeat, Hutch thought he was going to come. He was helpless to stop it, as his gut churned and his balls tightened up hard. But Starsky's other hand clamped down hard on his shaft, preventing his release, and the orgasm could only roil inside him, stalled and angry, and build up power.
"I'm yours!" Hutch said helplessly. "Can't stop you. Don't want to. Oh, god, Starsky...yours!"
Starsky's finger plunged deep inside him and the erotic sense of being taken, of being helpless in Starsky's hands, made Hutch wild. He thrashed, pulled against the sturdy bed, but that must've turned Starsky on because he sucked Hutch harder, his tongue lashing his over-sensitized crown.
"You do that so good," Hutch moaned. He was trembling like someone with the flu. As though his body couldn't hold all the pleasure inside it.
"Mmmm?" Starsky hummed around his shaft, and the vibration of it traveled right to his balls. Starsky pulled off for a second, and the cold air striking the wet skin of Hutch's burning erection made his organ jump in protest. "You like that? What I'm doing to you? You really like it?"
Hutch shuddered as the finger kept fucking him, slowly enough to torment, deep enough to delight. "Yes!" he gasped. Can't you tell? You're making me insane, you bastard. "Please, Starsk--" He wasn't sure what he was asking for, but he was ready to beg for it, whatever it was.
"More? You want more, Hutch?"
The question aroused him insanely. He writhed on the bed, moaning low, but couldn't make himself speak. It was as if Starsky had stolen his will to resist and his voice to protest or even agree. More? Oh yes, he wanted more!
"I've got more for you, Hutch," Starsky promised. He slid in another finger at the same time he tightened his grip on Hutch's erection, forestalling the explosion that Hutch desperately needed.
He shouted and arched up and Starsky's mouth was there, moving lower on his needy flesh. He teased Hutch's crown with his teeth, his tongue, his lips...the same lips that kissed him so powerfully.
"Suck me, damn you!" Hutch shouted. "Make me come! Ah, jeezus!"
Starsky chuckled wickedly around Hutch's throbbing cock and teased the ridge with his tongue tip. Starsky would be the one to decide when Hutch could come, and Hutch knew it. He was Starsky's, to do with what he pleased. The price of his surrender. God, he loved it!
Hutch's body bloomed with sweat. He was breathing like a racehorse, heaving for air. I need to come so bad! Had anyone ever possessed him so completely, controlled him so ably? He stared up into the mirror, dismayed at his own appearance. Panting, he was flushed all over, sweat dripping off him in rivulets, long hair fanned out over the pillow. While Starsky, still patiently bowed over him, seemed cool, calm, totally in control. Only his head and arm moved slowly, methodically. Hutch couldn't believe the reaction that slight amount of activity was causing inside him.
"Mmmm," Starsky murmured, pulling off Hutch's hard-on. "I'm havin' such a good time. How about you, Hutch? Is it good? You likin' this?" Starsky was grinning, his eyes heavy-lidded. He ran his tongue over his lips and Hutch could see they were swollen from kissing, from sucking him. He was pure satyr, Hutch realized, endlessly inventive, and confident in Hutch's need for him. "You want more?"
The question made him throb. When Starsky brushed his bristly cheek against Hutch's raw crown, then toyed with just the slit with the tip of his tongue, the truth was ripped from his throat. "Yes! Damn you!" He tried not to think what "more" he was pleading for.
But Starsky knew. Without taking his eyes from Hutch, Starsky promised, "I've got more for you, Hutch. I've got so much more--" and gently inserted a third finger.
Hutch thought he might faint. He'd never experienced such a sexual rush, and for a minute, the room swirled around him as he was lost to the power of Starsky's hand.
"You're so tight, Hutch," Starsky whispered as if in awe. "So incredibly hot inside. And you look so beautiful, lying there. Giving yourself to me. Bet you don't have any idea what you're doin' to me. I'm so hard...!" As if he couldn't say anything more, Starsky went down on Hutch again, almost frantically, taking him deep into his mouth, his tongue rubbing so hard against Hutch, he wanted to shriek.
Put it all in me, Hutch thought, feeling his mind slip into a fog of perfect pleasure. The rest of your hand, your whole fist, I don't care. Reach inside and pull out my soul. It's yours anyway. As if there could ever be anyone else.... God, I need you!
The need was real, no fantasy. And it was cresting hard inside him. He'd already been pushed far beyond his endurance. But he still needed to have his own hunger satisfied. Reluctantly, and with considerable effort, he shifted in the bed, turning on his side, pulling up his knees, drawing away from Starsky's mouth. Starsky seemed dazed, and looked at him confused and a little hurt.
"Need you!" Hutch sighed. He knew he was beyond speech at this point. He was trembling all over, and all he wanted was just one thing. "Starsky, please!"
Starsky crawled up closer to him, leaning over him on hands and knees. "What, babe, what? I'll give you anything you need."
"Good," Hutch said, smiling, looking down the length of Starsky's trim body to the hardened club of his sex. "Need you. Right now. Starsky, come on...." He yanked at the cuffs, aching to handle Starsky. Instead, he shifted, slid a leg under him, so that Starsky was perched between Hutch's spread legs. Lowering himself, Starsky nestled his body full length atop Hutch's until their burning erections nestled erotically beside each other.
Hutch kissed Starsky quickly, not wanting to get too distracted. "Do it again. Take me. Like before. I need that from you now. I just want to be yours. No one else's. Ever again. Time to put the flesh to our marriage."
Starsky still looked a little confused.
This is a helluva time for you to get dim on me. "Starsk!" he snapped impatiently. "I've got about two good minutes left in me. Fuck me, dammit! Right now!"
"But--but I thought we'd...that maybe you'd, or I'd--"
Hutch wrapped his legs tight around his waist. He didn't want to speak, to say another word. If Starsky didn't do this soon, the rocket was going to take off without him.
"I mean--" Starsky was still stammering, "if you really want.... Don't we need to get something...?"
"Dammit, Starsky," Hutch said, gritting his teeth. "You're leaking all over me! Just do it!"
"You sonovabitch," Starsky growled, suddenly surging to the task, "you make me so fuckin' hot I can't think straight!"
Starsky reared back on his knees, grabbing Hutch's right leg under the knee and pulling it up to get better access. Hutch felt him fumble with something, then felt his blunt moist probe rub against his anus, wetting him, getting him ready. Starsky positioned himself, the action so intimate it made him shudder.
Then, without another word of warning, Starsky met Hutch's gaze and pierced him straight to his heart. His voice was ragged as he claimed Hutch. "Mine! All mine...."
Hutch was totally unaware of any pain as a searing, burning pleasure tore into him, blinding him with waves of delight. He blinked, watching them in the mirror as Starsky drove into him again, his strong legs enabling his cock to combat any remaining resistance Hutch's body might've had.
"Yes!" Hutch cried out. "Yes! Yes! Oh, Starsk!"
Starsky moaned helplessly and lost himself in Hutch's body. He drove into him ruthlessly over and over, gasping, grunting, sounding like a man who was desperate to get somewhere he couldn't quite reach.
Hutch clawed at the headboard, calling Starsky's name over and over in a frantic mantra of building passion.
Starsky reared up, pulled Hutch's other leg up, then pushed forward, nearly bending Hutch in half. He was pounding into Hutch mindlessly, racing to the goal. Hutch felt the incredible sensations building and building, then cresting hard. Amazingly, Starsky's organ grew larger inside him, and that was too much. Hutch shouted in surprise and came, spraying them both as his cock erupted with the force of a firehose.
Starsky gave a short sob, rasped Hutch's name and slammed into him one last time, his body tensing. Hutch could feel that strong organ pumping inside him, filling him. It was wonderful. It was frightening. He wasn't sure he was going to live through it. Starsky clutched Hutch to him, and collapsed against him. They were both gulping air, helpless.
Somehow, Starsky managed to find the key to the cuffs and liberated one of Hutch's wrists. Hutch took the key from him, then shed the other cuff and dropped the hardware over the side of the bed. He'd have to remember that trick and surprise Starsky with it...next time they slept at Venice Place....
Hutch eased his aching arms down and cradled Starsky's shaking body, petting him, kissing his forehead. "Oh, god, I needed that," he groaned.
"Not as bad as I did," Starsky insisted. His words were half muffled by Hutch's chest, which was where his face was buried.
The two of them lay without moving for long moments, just trying to get more oxygen to their brains, trying to slow their hearts from their hyperactive state. Hutch knew they were being glued together by his own semen, but he didn't care.
"We need to hire someone," Starsky mumbled against his nipple.
Hutch frowned in confusion. "Huh?"
"If we're always gonna get this crazy in bed," Starsky explained patiently, "then we need to hire someone to take care of us when it's over. I need to wash up and wash you up, but I don't think I can move."
Hutch kissed Starsky gently on the head. "I don't want you to move. Not ever."
"Ummmm," Starsky grunted. "Think we wrecked the bedspread?" Without moving, he tugged at the patchwork velveteen covering, grabbing enough of it to surround them both tightly in a soft, comforting cocoon.
Hutch smiled, holding Starsky hard against him. He stared at them both in the mirror. Starsky's dark form blanketed him, his thick curls cuddled just below his chin. The bullet scars seemed faint and he stroked them with his fingertips, then pulled the bedspread tighter around them when Starsky shivered. "We look like a giant papoose with two heads," Hutch said.
"Papoose?" Starsky mumbled, seconds away from sleep. "Loose as a goose...or a papoose.... Why'd'ja do that, huh, Hutch? Make me fuck you? Wanted you to come in my mouth. Then, I figured we could fuck for a long time...."
Hutch laughed and kissed the top of Starsky's head. "Glad you've got such a high opinion of my ability to perform. Maybe after about twelve hours sleep we'll try it again."
"And again," Starsky agreed, "and again.... You know, Hutch, you might not want to hear this, but I plan to cut you off alcohol completely. No beer. No nothin'...."
Starsky's words were slurring more and more, so Hutch wasn't taking them too seriously. He was watching patterns of sunlight cut through the room, brightening the colorful bedspread, and making rainbows as it reflected off the mirror. "No beer? That's cruel and unusual--"
"Nope," Starsky insisted, snuggling closer. "You can't get it up when you've had too much to drink, Hutch. Can't risk nothin' like that no more...not ever...."
Hutch smiled as Starsky's body went boneless and he slipped into sleep. His organ softened and left Hutch's body. Hutch rolled them, in their plush cocoon, onto their sides, and Starsky never noticed. As the sun warmed the room, and the traffic noises and other sounds of a sleepy LA rising became more noticeable, Hutch sighed and let sleep take him. They had a lot of time to make up for. He'd need his rest.
And I can't wait till the morning has come
And I know now the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
When you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that you're never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true dear
there and then, I'll make you my own
Moondance
-- Van Morrison
