Chapter 24B
Starsky had just finished toweling his hair when the smell of fresh coffee permeated the bedroom. He cinched his bathrobe--his jeans were too confining right now, and he didn't want to give Hutch the idea he wasn't ready to climb back into bed at a moment's notice--and moved toward the kitchen. That was when he saw Hutch and Peter embracing tightly. Hutch was grinning, his face a study in joy. For a half-second, Starsky's jealousy reared up hot and furious, but he clamped down on it and stepped back into the bedroom, giving Hutch privacy. He and Peter had to say goodbye on their own terms, and Hutch was a hugger. It was Peter's loss anyway, so what did he have to be jealous about?
About six foot one of Nordic blond god, he thought, clenching his jaw. Starsky's Nordic blond god. No one else's.
Grow up. The guy's given you all of himself. Don't make him crazy with your insecurities. Okay, fine. But if they didn't break that up in two minutes, Starsky wasn't sure how reasonable he could be.
Then the phone rang. He rolled his eyes and called out to the kitchen, "I've got it!" He jogged around the side of the bed and snatched the receiver up on the second ring. "Grand Central Station. The next train leaves at 12:02 on track three for New York, Albuquerque, and Middle Earth...."
"Gee, I'm disappointed," Sugar said in her best Mae West. "You're not even breathin' hard, honey. I thought for sure I'd catch you halfway to heaven."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Starsky said, grinning crookedly at the phone. "There's not enough privacy in this place. Hutch and me are gonna have to sneak out to a hotel somewhere or just accept a life of celibacy since there's always folks at the front door, and the phone won't stop ringing."
"Always happy to do my part, big boy," she said sarcastically.
"Hutch is the 'big boy,' Sugar. I'm just a few inches better than average. What can I do for you?"
"Don't even ask; you'd just break my heart. Having been part of the gay scene since the Pre-Cambrian age, I know what happens when two boys fall in L-O-V-E for the first time. They climb into bed and don't come out till their little treasures threaten to fall off. So, I'm taking the precaution of calling you to be sure you're going to be at work tonight."
Starsky's eyes widened. "Work?" he yelped. "You're opening the bar?"
"New glass is being installed even as we speak. I considered going for bullet proof, but decided that would take all the fun out of it. Place has been cleaned, set back up, Huggy sent over two cases of glasses for the bar, and while we won't have our stained glass backdrop in place for a few days, we're putting in a movie screen temporarily. Thought we'd show news footage of the demonstration. I was wondering if I could prevail upon you and the golden one to pose nude for the new stained glass. A study in contrasts. Light and dark. Broad and built. Beautiful blond and bountiful butt. What do you think?"
"Uh..." Starsky stalled, "Sugar, look--can't we call in sick? Just tonight. We only had a few hours sleep and--"
"Let's remember who was willing to give you two a salary when the rest of the world only wanted you to disappear, shall we? Where's your loyalty? Look, I know the two of you would like to stay home for about a year and discover the outer limits of your sexual stamina, but you're going to have to do that on your own time. We'll need you tonight."
"Sugar--" Starsky said warningly.
"That movie screen over the bar and the ones flanking the walls? Starsky, darling--if you're not here tonight I can assure you we'll forget the newsreel and Judy Garland and be running a continuous loop of the short but illustrious movie career of Studly Starsky and HotLips Hutchinson. We'll call it 'Cops On The Make.' In Technicolor. Kapeesh?"
"Sugar, that's blackmail. As an officer of the law--"
"Don't give me that. You don't have your badges yet. I'll cut you a break, Starsky. You don't have to be in on time. But your adorable worn-out little ass had better be in here by eight p.m. And make sure you wipe that smug satiated smile off your face before you get here. It's too painful to see for those of us sleeping alone. Oh. One more thing. After you get your badges back, don't forget you have to give me two weeks notice! Ta!" She hung up before he could reply.
"Who knew such a nice lady could have such a mean streak?" Starsky said disgustedly to the phone.
He peeked around the corner toward the kitchen, but Hutch and Peter had separated and were sitting over coffee at the dining room table. Sauntering out, he found his coffee waiting on the counter, and took a long sip.
"Who was that?" Hutch asked.
"Sugar," Starsky said. "Wanted to be sure we didn't forget to come to work."
"Tonight?" Hutch asked in dismay and Starsky almost cracked up at his forlorn expression.
"We can go in late, but if we're not there, well, let's just say Sugar really knows how to appeal to our better natures."
"She's blackmailing us?" Hutch said, eyebrows climbing to his hairline.
"It's not like it's hard to do," Starsky reminded him. Hutch sighed in disgust.
"Well, if I don't get home I'm going to fall asleep on the spot," Peter said as he stood. "Thanks for the coffee--and, even though it's pretty inadequate, thanks for everything."
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other in the way they had a million times before, whenever they'd come out on the other side of a case that should have ended disastrously and hadn't. Only this time, seeing that look on Hutch made Starsky's testicles tighten.
Peter walked toward the door and Hutch walked with him to see him out. Starsky, wanting to preclude the possibility of another long clutch, moved to Hutch's side.
Peter opened the door then stood framed there for a minute, half in and half out. He seemed hesitant, then finally spoke. "You know, I've been gay all my life, been part of the community since my adolescence. This is all new to you. I just want to tell you--" he looked at them both squarely, "love each other as hard as you can for as long as you can. I wish you the best."
There was loss in Peter's voice and it touched Starsky in a way little else could. He had a sudden rush of memory--Johnny Blaine teaching him to swing a bat, swing a fist...stand up for what was right. He missed Johnny, had never stopped missing Johnny, and for the first time he understood that Peter had never stopped missing him, either. It didn't matter that the feelings behind their loss had different origins. Johnny's death had left a void in both of them. Before he could think about it, he found himself hugging Peter really hard. He felt a little flustered when they disentangled.
Hutch shut the door quietly behind Peter and cast a curious look at Starsky. "Brazen, aren't you? Hugging handsome men right in front of me! Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Starsky stared open-mouthed at his partner. "Me? But, you--! Peter--! In the kitchen--!"
Hutch advanced on him threateningly, wagging his finger in Starsky's face. "Let's get some things straight, shall we? You should excuse the expression. I know you, Starsky. I've watched you operate for years. I've seen you flirt and tease and twitch your ass for attention. I've seen you take a girl out for the evening and pick up two phone numbers from other ladies while you were with her. I think you'd better understand that whatever patience I might have had where you are concerned has definitely run its course. You are mine, Starsky, my love. And I'm not sharing."
Starsky had instinctively backed up slowly until he bumped into the kitchen counter. "Now wait a minute," he protested, dismayed that his innocent hug with Peter would pull this kind of reaction from Hutch. "I saw you two wrapped around each other like a roll around a hotdog in my very own kitchen! Did I carry on like a--?"
"Jealous lover?" Hutch asked, grinning shamelessly as he moved into Starsky's personal space, pinning him to the counter. "Sure you did. You hid in the bedroom and fumed until the phone distracted you. I just didn't want you to think you were the only jealous lover here. I meant what I said. I'm not sharing you."
Starsky blinked, feeling his blood pressure climb. "Don't worry, babe. You'll never have to."
Hutch's big hands cupped his face, and then his lips were being kissed by that warm, broad, delicious mouth. He opened for the questing tongue and sucked it deep inside, tasting its sweet flavor, its unique, intoxicating Hutch-taste. His blood sang in his ears.
Hutch pulled out of the kiss long before Starsky had had his fill--as if he ever could. Grabbing Starsky under his arms, Hutch hoisted him up onto the kitchen counter, knocking assorted canisters and utensils out of the way. He pushed Starsky's legs apart and yanked open the belt of the robe. After parting the robe and exposing his body, Hutch leaned over and inhaled Starsky's growing cock into his mouth. Starsky shouted in delight and flung his head back, bonking it hard into the cabinet behind him. He didn't care. His whole world suddenly centered on the searing heat and slippery wetness of Hutch's incredible mouth.
"Hutch!" he rasped, frantically twining his fingers in clean silken strands of long blond hair. He felt each separate sensation--Hutch's wet mouth tightening on his growing flesh, sucking with perfect pressure, slipping up and down his swelling heat while his tongue teased and tormented the vein along his shaft, the ridge of his crown, his already moist slit. One of Hutch's hands toyed with his balls in a way designed to bring him up to maximum hardness in minimum time, at the same time Hutch's other hand twisted and tweaked Starsky's nipple to painful delight. Starsky banged his head on the cabinet again as he cataloged every intense feeling Hutch inflicted on him. It was like listening to a wonderful concert and being able to pick out each separate instrument playing perfectly together.
He was fully hard now and loving what Hutch was doing to him. Would Hutch make him come right here in the kitchen? Was this to make up for the Peter hug? Starsky hoped so. And he hoped he could catch Hutch in lots of friendly hugs in the future.
Hutch pulled off him for a moment. His eyes were glittering, the pupils huge in all that cool blue ice. His mouth was wet, the lower lip a bit swollen. Starsky couldn't stop staring at it.
"Am I a good cocksucker, baby?" Hutch asked, smiling. He had a look of hunger on his face, his expression that of a starving man.
Starsky's cock bobbed as if pleading for Hutch to return to it. Struggling to catch his breath, he ran his thumb over Hutch's moist lower lip. "How you do that...you do that so good...."
"Say it," Hutch demanded, as if determined to exorcise the last of Starsky's demons. "Ask me for it."
Starsky could see the word emblazoned in red on his locker. COCKSUCKER. He remembered the humiliating shame he'd felt the first time he'd seen the film of them going down on each other. It seemed a million years ago. The embarrassment seemed, at the time, more than he could ever deal with. He honestly hadn't known how he would ever have the courage to face another man again.
Now, all he had before him was the beauty of Hutch's love, his generous willingness to do this for him. That harsh blunt word seemed so inadequate to describe the incredible reality that was Hutch making love to him. But it was all they had. He remembered Sugar telling him they could take ugly words and reclaim them to take the power out of them. Words like queer and faggot and--
"I'm not afraid of words or labels anymore, Hutch," Starsky said. "I'm not afraid of anything as long you keep loving me. My beautiful cocksucker...." His heart swelled at the expression of delight on Hutch's face. "Put your mouth on me, Hutch. Suck my cock. Please--"
Hutch went down on him before he could ask again. He groaned, feeling every muscle in his body tighten in pleasure.
The loud knock on the door made him slam his head again, only this time he felt it. "Ow!"
They looked at each other and said simultaneously, "Forgot the 'Do Not Disturb' sign!" Just then the phone rang.
"I would've thought our karma would have been a little better than this by now," Hutch complained, moving away, so Starsky could get off the counter.
Starsky knew there was no hope of hiding his erection, so he settled for pressing it against his belly. Whoever was outside knocked again.
"I'll get the phone," Hutch offered, and went to the one near the couch.
Starsky opened the see-through. He didn't recognize the tall, slender black woman standing on his porch.
"Mr. Starsky? I'm Huggy's cousin, Theda. I've been cleaning your place for the last few weeks. This is usually the day I do it. Are you busy?"
"Right now?" Starsky asked. "Well, actually, yes. Very busy. Uh...we had to work all night and we're, uh, just trying to catch up on our sleep this morning. Could you come back tomorrow?"
"Well, I'm over at the Johnsons' tomorrow. But I might be able to come back the day after, in the afternoon."
"That'll be great," Starsky said with a smile. He'd have to remember to make sure they were at Venice Place by then. "Sorry to make you come up here for no reason."
"No problem, Mr. Starsky," she said pleasantly as she turned to go. "You get some rest now."
Gee, I hope not, he thought. He turned and scrounged around his desk for a piece of paper and some tape. He scrawled in a hurried hand, "DO NOT DISTURB!" then taped it securely to the front door. He finished just as Hutch was hanging up the phone.
"That was Huggy," Hutch said. "He called to tell us a dozen things we already knew, but I got the feeling he just wanted to make sure we were okay. You know. About us. I told him we'd be a lot more okay if he'd get off the damned phone and let us go back to bed. He sounded pleased as punch. Wanted to know if this time he could have the film rights."
Starsky nodded. "Take that damn phone off the hook, will you?"
Hutch hesitated. Cop habits were hard to break. The phone rang.
"Told ya," Starsky scolded and picked up the phone. "Hello?" It was more of a bark than a greeting.
"Davey?" a male voice answered. "It's...Nicky."
Starsky sat on the couch, stunned.
The phone call was brief and awkward, but by the time it was over, Starsky knew he still had a brother who cared about him and, in an odd way, was proud of him.
Hutch took the phone from his hand and this time followed his advice and took the receiver off the hook. He took Starsky by the wrist and pulled him off the couch. "Any idea where we were before we were so repeatedly interrupted, or is the mood totally wrecked?"
Starsky looked into Hutch's loving expression and smiled. "You were proving to me that 'cocksucker' was the most beautiful word in the dictionary. I was just about convinced, too."
"Liar," Hutch said gently. "You were such a true believer you were singing the Hallelujah chorus."
"Sign's up," Starsky reminded him. "Phone's off the hook. Can we go back to bed now?"
"I do believe it's your turn to carry me, Romeo," Hutch reminded him teasingly.
"Yeah, you're right. Okay, hang on." Without giving Hutch a chance to react, Starsky grabbed his wrist, tucked his shoulder against Hutch's abdomen, and pulled him into a classic fireman's carry.
"Oh, now that's romantic!" Hutch protested, as Starsky hauled him into the bedroom. Before he could put him down, Hutch had grabbed hold of the mounds of his ass and kneaded them as he walked. "However, it does have its compensations...."
Starsky dumped him unceremoniously on the bed and clambered over him, yanking open Hutch's robe and pulling it off his shoulders. "Admit it. You love my ass." Starsky stripped his own robe off and tossed it onto the floor.
"I admit it," Hutch said, without a fight. "I love your ass. I love the way it rolls around in your impossibly tight jeans like two puppies in a gunny sack. I love the way it tightens up when I touch it. I love the way you twitch it around when you're trying to get my attention."
"I do not twitch my ass!" Starsky protested.
"You most definitely twitch it whenever you think anyone's looking at it. Those twitches had better be reserved for yours truly from now on, buddy, or that beautiful ass is gonna find itself in a sling."
"Promises, promises," Starsky taunted, then deliberately twitched his ass back and forth over Hutch's groin.
Hutch grabbed his shoulders and wrestled him over onto the bed until he was flat on his back then loomed over him. "I love the smooth, ripe curve of your ass. I love the long sweep of your spine. I love your incredible eyes. I love your heavy, thick, dark cock. I love sucking it till you come in my mouth, and I love drinking you down and keeping that part of you in me. And I especially love when you pound your cock into me and make me yours."
Starsky was nearly breathless at the poetry of Hutch's confession. "What? You don't love me for my mind?"
Hutch laughed wonderfully, then covered Starsky's body with his long, heavy one and devoured his mouth. The unique feel of that powerful masculine body pressing him into the bed was terrifying and thrilling all at once. Starsky took his time experiencing this, realizing with every part of him that he was a man loving a man. As his erection rubbed enticingly against Hutch's, he accepted the amazing change in his life as desire traveled like lightning down his legs and arms then back into his groin. He wanted to weep in excitement and need.
He was trembling with nervous anticipation when Hutch pulled out of the kiss for air. "You ever gonna fuck me?" Starsky struggled to ask. The fear was there immediately, making his cock jump, making his anus tighten down in defense. Hutch's large cock pressed against his, reminding him of its size. You're so goddamned fucking big. You'll tear me apart.
Hutch's expression softened. "We never have to do that, Starsky," he said.
Starsky felt the surprise all the way to his toes. Immediately after came a startling disappointment. Just like I felt the first time.
"You don't want me?" he asked in dismay. At the same time he reminded himself, Be careful what you ask for.
"Of course I want you," Hutch reassured him. "I want you more than anyone I've ever wanted. But you're afraid. I can feel it in your body whenever you bring it up. See it in your eyes. Even the first time. You were offering me something you thought I wanted, but you were afraid. You're still afraid. Starsky, I love you. I never want to do anything that puts that look on your face. Maybe someday you won't be afraid. We can do it then. In the meantime, we can still fuck. I love it when you take me. I'm happy doing that with you."
"But, Hutch, that's not fair--"
"Starsk," Hutch interrupted him. "When...when we were in the bar...and the cops came in--I did my job, just like Tsuka taught me. And you did yours. I got everyone down into position, kept encouraging everyone to stay put, hunker down, maintain their calm. I watched you, my heart in my throat, as you helped the customers get out of there, then confronted the cops themselves. I didn't know what they'd do to you, and I was worried sick. I was afraid they'd beat you, the way they beat Tomas. Then they grabbed you, and instead of fighting back you resisted, collapsed into your lotus, and the uniforms surrounded you. I couldn't see you anymore. I was still doing my job, but I was so scared. Then all of a sudden, the crowd cleared from my path of vision--and there you were...in Russo's grip. I saw his grinning face. Saw Wilson confronting you. You were on your knees. And you had that look of fear. I've known you a long time, Starsky. I've seen you face down some serious bad guys. And I've never seen you look like that. So, I knew what was about to happen. And I lost it completely."
Starsky smiled. "You were so amazing. You looked like a lion coming after Wilson. I thought my heart would burst when you attacked him."
"Do you think I could ever do anything to you to put that look on your face?"
"Hutch, it's not the same thing. I'm just scared 'cause it's new, not 'cause I don't want you. I love you so much I can't find enough ways to say it. And I always said that kind of thing best with my body anyway. I'm glad you like it when I fuck you because it's so good for me I could die. But I want you to have that feeling, too. And I want to give you something I never gave anyone else and never will give anyone else, 'cept you. Take my virginity, Hutch. Seal our marriage for good. I want you to."
"Starsk...I don't think we--" Hutch was well into his argumentative phase.
Starsky knew he'd have to work harder. "I had a jar of Vaseline in the medicine cabinet. I put it in the nightstand. Think it's as good as Crisco?"
"Starsk...." That was a warning.
"It's all I could think about when I woke up in your arms this morning, 'specially once you got hard."
"Starsk...." His voice softened and his expression did, too.
"I bet if I rolled over now," he struggled to turn under Hutch until he was belly down beneath him, "and pressed up against you like I was doing then," he demonstrated by shifting his ass until Hutch's cock nestled deep in his furrow, "that pretty soon it would start feeling so damn good to you it'd be hard to think about anything else, wouldn't it?"
"Starsk...." That was a plea. Starsky ignored it.
He moved his ass slowly, rocking Hutch's hardness back and forth imitating a slow, smooth fucking stroke. "You really like my ass, Hutch?"
"Starsk...!" That was a gasp. Starsky smiled.
"Feels so nice like that, doesn't it?" He pitched his voice low, seductive. He spread his legs, letting Hutch nestle between them suggestively. "Think of what it would be like inside. I'll be so tight around you--"
"Starsky!" Hutch growled, his voice ragged. "You conniving, little--" He rolled off Starsky as if only now realizing he wasn't trapped there. He sat up, as if to collect himself, but when Starsky looked up in the overhead mirror he could see Hutch staring at his ass as though he were famished and Starsky's butt was a rare steak.
Knowing that Hutch was staring at him so hungrily, Starsky deliberately twitched his rear from side to side, flexing the muscles in his legs, tightening his butt then relaxing it again, clenching it in invitation.
With a cry of exasperation, Hutch pounced on him, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He pinned Starsky's shoulders to the bed as he climbed between his legs, and shoved them farther apart with his own. Oh, shit! Starsky trembled, fear uncoiling in his gut like a snake.
"You think you can get whatever you want out of me just by switching your rear, don't you?" Hutch snarled in his ear while pressing him hard against the bed. Starsky had pulled the bedspread off before they'd come in here and his erection was rubbing roughly against a jumble of dark blue linen. It felt good, but not good enough. And certainly not as good as the crack of Starsky's ass had to feel to Hutch's cock, which rode it very deliberately.
Hutch dug a heavy hand into Starsky's hair and pulled his head back. "You think I'm so helpless when I'm in bed with you, don't you?"
Not right now, Starsky thought, fighting down a rising panic. Maybe he should've listened to Hutch before. He wondered if he brought up those previous arguments if Hutch would have any patience for them. Probably not.
"You think you've got my number, don't you?" Hutch persisted.
"The only number I'm thinkin' of right now is sixty-nine," Starsky confessed.
"Think of another one," Hutch said, then plunged his tongue into Starsky's ear as he shifted his hips so that his cock slipped under Starsky's ass to massage his perineum.
Starsky moaned as that broad glans pushed against his balls. Hutch lapped the shell of his ear and the soft skin behind it. Starsky leaned into the teasing tongue, feeling his blood boil. He tried to pull his legs together so he could give Hutch's erection more stimulation, but Hutch wouldn't let him, keeping him spread wide.
"You gonna fuck me?" he asked, hating the tremor in his voice.
"Maybe," Hutch whispered into the ear he kept licking then nipping. "Maybe not."
Starsky shuddered helplessly. Not knowing was making him crazy. He never did have any patience and Hutch knew it.
"You scared?" Hutch asked, giving his hair a firm tug.
There was no point in disseminating. "Yeah."
Hutch made a soft sound and Starsky couldn't tell if it was regret or pleasure. His adrenaline level kicked in another notch.
Hutch released his hair and his over-stimulated ear so both hands could play over Starsky's body. He stroked his sides, his arms, his flanks, then rubbed the sides of his buttocks possessively. Starsky bucked. Hutch handled him more, stroking, petting, pinching him lightly at the very bottom curve of his ass where the skin was especially soft. He cried out and lurched but couldn't unseat his rider. Hutch lightly tickled the same area and Starsky thought he'd go insane.
"Please!" he called out, the sensation driving him wild.
"Please what?" Hutch asked as he nuzzled the back of Starsky's neck under his hair, then kissed and licked his way down his spine.
Starsky didn't know so he made something up. "Touch my cock, Hutch. It's burning for you."
"Mmmm," Hutch purred against his skin. "Love hearing that." He pressed his lips reverently against the uppermost bullet scar on Starsky's back.
That nearly did Starsky in. Hutch was stroking his ass so sweetly as he kissed and nuzzled the scars along his back. How long was he going to drag this out?
Starsky went still, just enjoying his man's weight and presence over him, cataloging every gentle touch of lips to skin. He almost imagined the scars fading under Hutch's loving kiss, smoothing beneath his healing mouth and becoming perfect skin again. Hutch could do that with his love, it was so strong.
I want you so much, Starsky thought, the sentiment clear and bright in his heart. I want you in me.
Hutch's mouth traveled lower, curing the scars on his back and in his soul. He gripped the pillow and waited, his cock throbbing, his balls drawn up painfully tight. He felt a kiss in the small of his back, just before the rising swell of his buttocks. Hutch's hands were still kneading his ass, as if they couldn't bear to stop. Then he felt Hutch take hold of his buttocks with both hands, as if holding them in place. His thumbs rested near the join of ass and thigh, right near the crack, while the rest of his palm cupped the mounds, holding them firmly, as if to let Starsky know who owned them.
Hutch kissed the high swell of one buttock, then the other. Then his tongue wrote a wet line of sensation over both. The teasing touch was killing Starsky and he squirmed. That hot tongue wrote another line, then the edge of Hutch's teeth took a possessive little nip and Starsky bucked. Hutch chuckled and did it again. Starsky felt a surge of pre-come dribble from his cock and wet the bed. He was dying.
"Hutch! Come on! Quit foolin' around!"
"Uh-uh," Hutch said. "I love fooling around. Especially when I'm fooling around with you."
"You gonna fuck me or what?" He was demanding now, tired of being tortured into delirium.
"Or what, I guess," Hutch said, a smile in his voice. Then the tip of his tongue lapped at the top of Starsky's crack.
Starsky flattened against the bed, stunned by the bold sexual move. He wouldn't! Would he?
Hutch's thumbs moved up the crack of Starsky's ass from the bottom and pulled his cheeks apart as Hutch's tongue tip traced its way down that deep valley from the top. The wet assault was so delicious, so surprising, that for a minute Starsky was afraid he would come. On complete reflex, he slid his hand down his belly and grabbed hold of his weeping, needy cock. Sharp teeth came down hard on his tender ass and he jumped.
"Don't you dare!" Hutch ordered. "That's mine to play with, not yours."
"Hutch...?" he whined, so hot he thought he would faint.
"The cuffs are still in the drawer," Hutch reminded him.
Starsky released himself immediately as a thread of fearful excitement traveled down his spine. Sliding his hands away from his body he held them out, hands spread as if Hutch were holding a gun on him. Thinking of himself cuffed and helpless while Hutch took him was more than he could handle. And somehow Hutch knew it, knew that the threat alone was all he needed. Hutch had his number completely.
Hutch kissed the bite mark to soothe its small hurt. "Better. Hold still."
Starsky knew that was impossible when that tongue went back to tasting him, sliding over skin so sensitive he couldn't bear it. Hutch was driving him insane with his mouth, with the thumbs spreading him wide, baring him for Hutch's sweet torture. He rocked and squirmed, rubbed his cock against the sheets, and it was all good but none of it was enough. He moaned into his pillow, insane with pleasure.
Then Hutch tongued his anus.
Starsky shouted and tried to lurch away, the pleasure sexy and scary and oh so hot. Hutch hauled him back easily, controlling him as if he had no strength, no power in his legs, his arms, as if only Hutch had those things. Those big possessive hands spread his ass wide, making him available to Hutch's mouth and tongue. He felt the soft sensual wetness, the hot tongue lapping at him, felt his body's irresistible response as he spread his legs wider, felt the betrayal of his own nerves as his anus clenched and relaxed, loving that wet seduction. Hutch's tongue controlled him, battered him, reduced him to a shaking, leaking sexual toy, something he could do anything with. Starsky was heaving, writhing helplessly under that simple touch, that licking tongue, and Hutch wasn't even breathing hard, wasn't even working up a sweat.
Starsky knew he was finished, that Hutch could do this to him for hours without tiring, yet leave him a shaking wreck, weak and limp without ever having come. And oh god did he want to come. His hand moved to touch himself, but a sharp pinch at the tender junction of ass and thigh reminded him sharply of his lack of privileges. He gripped his pillow and humped the sheets uselessly, while Hutch lay contentedly between his cheeks, feasting on him, driving him not-so-slowly insane.
It wasn't long before Starsky was out of control with need. "Hutch! Goddamnit! Please, please--make me come!"
Hutch pulled away just long enough to say, "Maybe. Maybe not."
Starsky cried out then cursed him soundly. "You fuckin' sadist! You sonofabitch!" Then that tongue was back at work and all he could do was sob in pleasure. "It's good, Hutch. So goddamn good. Can't take anymore!"
But apparently he could and Hutch knew it. Hutch reached under him then gripped his cock tight at the same time that he penetrated Starsky with his tongue. The fact that Hutch would do that to him was enough to make him come and Hutch had foreseen that and prevented it. The pleasure was so intense it was painful, but Starsky was in such a sexual fog even that felt good. Whatever made him think he could manipulate this man in bed?
Hutch waited until Starsky was a trembling, shivering mass, on fire with pleasure. Then, when Starsky had given up resisting, had decided that this would last forever and he would just have to find a way to endure it, Hutch pulled away from him. Before Starsky could collect his wits about him, Hutch had grasped his knee and pulled him over onto his back. The sight of himself in the mirror, heaving, sweating, taut with desire, with his cock controlled by the blond demon determined to drive him insane, was so hot he felt his balls twist.
Somehow he found enough breath to ask the only question he cared about. "You gonna fuck me now?"
"Maybe," Hutch said. "Maybe not."
Before Starsky could cuss him out again, Hutch bent over him and took his enraged cock deep in his mouth. At the same moment, he slid his middle finger up inside Starsky in one smooth move. Starsky remembered doing something similar to Hutch, making him insane with it, but then the onslaught of sensation was too much, especially when the tip of Hutch's finger stroked down hard on his prostate.
Starsky yelled in shock and surprise, feeling as if every nerve ending in his body were standing straight up. He came hard, flooding the back of Hutch's throat. The sensation was so powerful, he found himself shoving Hutch's head hard onto his cock, wanting to drown him in the come Hutch wouldn't let him release before. Hutch let Starsky control his head, even when his thrusts forced Starsky's cock down his throat. Somehow he swallowed everything Starsky had and managed not to choke. Hutch's hand kept fucking him slow and smooth, hitting his prostate on every inward stroke. It lasted until Starsky felt wrung out and collapsed bonelessly on the bed. Only then did Hutch release his cock and slide his hand out carefully. Starsky actually mourned the loss of that hand and the feeling of possession it had given him.
Previews of coming attractions? It was a tantalizing preview if it was.
And I need you now, tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you'll only hold me tight
We'll be holding on forever
And we'll only be makin' it right
Cause we'll never be wrong
Together
I really need you tonight
Forever's gonna start tonight
Total Eclipse
of the Heart -- Bonnie Tyler
