WARNING: The Starsky and Hutch fan fiction of Alexis Rogers is homoerotic in nature and theme, and often contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between two or more men. If this adult content offends you, please go play some place else. If you are under the age of consent where you live, please go away. If you don't like the laws where you live, change them. Remember, one can make a difference.

RATING: This story carries the slash rating of "NC-17" because it contains explicit sexual descriptions. Hutch is *not* with Starsky in this story, so if that bothers you, skip this one.

DISCLAIMERS: This story exists solely for the enjoyment of those of us who care, and is not intended to infringe on any copyright or other legality of "Starsky and Hutch", Aaron Spelling, Leonard Goldberg, David Soul, Paul Michael Glaser, William Blinn, Michael Fisher or anydamnbody else that I might have overlooked. No money has been made from the story nor is there likely to be.

COMMENTS should be directed to Alexis Rogers at arogers@calweb.com

Please do not repost this story on another website, discussion list, or anywhere else.



Alexis Rogers

    Hutchinson frowned as he swung the car onto Pico Boulevard and headed west. He was not ready to go home yet, but he was not feeling particularly sociable either. The company he wanted--and needed--was not available, and he was frustrated, horny, and extremely grumpy.

   For four long, lonely weeks, Starsky had been in the hospital, recovering from the bullet wounds that had almost taken his life. The doctor had informed them this evening that it would be at least two more weeks before Starsky was released and entrusted to outpatient care and daily physical therapy. As it was now the PT was hard on Starsky and having him at home could be even worse.

   Hutch was not sure that they would survive. Starsky grew more irritable each day, and while Hutch did not particularly blame his lover, he had no energy left to fight. Even the nurses, who had been so charmed by that boyish smile, were getting ready to toss the man out on his beautiful tush.

   As he turned onto Lincoln, the standard Hollywood gaudy lighting of a new building caught his eye. The businesses here were usually simpler, but Ernie--the name in large letters under the colored lights--seemed intent on extending Hollywood all the way to the Pacific. Sighing, he slowed to appraise the restaurant. It was only eight-thirty and he had not eaten yet, so he pulled into the lot. Even a drink would be nice, help him to unwind. And in the back of his mind he wondered if he would really end up drinking or eating alone.

   He was not sorry he had stopped. The meal was the best he had had in weeks, and he felt good about treating himself to an elaborate dinner--his reward for being so tolerant of Starsky's bad temper. But the pleasure of food and the rich, smooth coffee made him hungry for more erotic pleasures.

   She slipped into the booth and smiled, quietly seductive, as if she had read his mind.

   "Got a light, blondie?" The words caressed. He produced his lighter, a gift from his lover, and touched the flame to the tip of her cigarette while he studied the elegant features. She was pretty...no, Oriental beautiful. He smiled with a wistful sort of appreciation as he pocketed the lighter once again. She was probably as expensive as the decor.

   Smoke and words mingled. "Do you know what the candlelight does to your hair?" She reached out tentatively to touch the strands and he captured her hand in his. It was slender and well-manicured, delicate, the nails painted the same shade of Chinese red as her dress.

   "Do you come here often?" she asked, her eyes full of sparkling life. He relaxed and kissed the tips of her fingers before he released them.

   "Not often enough, apparently. I'm inclined to change that. You new in town?"

   She shook her head and the curtain of heavy, dark hair floated over her bare shoulders. "I've been around for a while."

   The lady knew her trade. Every word, every gesture was calculated to excite. Even the way she handled her cigarette was vaguely obscene, and wonderfully provocative; the butterflies in his stomach and the throbbing in his groin testament to her skills. She stood with a studied casualness and Hutch found his gaze following the curves of sleek red satin. The lady shimmered in the candlelight, and for a moment he feared she would vanish.

   "How about a walk on the beach?" he asked as he took her arm, more to affirm her reality than to be polite. "To your place or mine, beautiful?" The scent of her perfume drifted around them as they left the restaurant, a cloud of subtle spice and intricate floral notes.

   The apartment was as expensive, and as elegant, as she was. She served him forty-year old Metaxa brandy in Italian crystal, and when she passed her fingers over an unobtrusive control panel, the lights dimmed and the room filled with softly swelling music.

   "You have a name?" Hutch asked, as the brandy flowed through him warm and silken, like an old friend. When he pulled her into his lap, she nibbled delicately at his earlobe.

   "Saucy," she whispered. "And the bed is more comfortable."

   He wondered idly if she took major credit cards as he allowed her to lead. She pushed him down onto the bed and unfastened his slacks, drawing them down and flipping them with practiced ease across the chair that stood nearby. The rest of his clothes disappeared with equal agility.

   "Christ, blondie, I didn't think they built 'em like you without the aid of a fish-eye lens." She grinned and knelt between his legs, licking and teasing. He groaned softly as her hand stroked his cock and twisted the tiny blond curls that framed it. Her long nails scraped lightly on the inside of his thighs and he opened them wider. She reached out to caress his balls while she drew his cock into her mouth. His fingers combed through the heavy mane of hair.

   Wanting the feel of warm skin, he reached for her dress. "C'mon, Saucy, let's get this thing off." Sliding the zipper down slowly, he followed in its wake with his index finger. Her flesh was like satin, smooth and dark gold. She slipped the straps off her shoulders and pushed the material down around her waist. He cupped a hand over one of her small breasts; the nipple grew taut against his palm.

   "Do I please you?" she asked, laughter in her chocolate brown eyes.

   How could you not please? After all, it is your business, your art. "You're beautiful," he muttered as he bent to kiss her while her arms snaked around his neck. Crushing the small breast against his chest, he inhaled the perfume that rose up to tease him.

   He slipped her dress downward, sliding his hands over the round ass, making her gasp and moan softly against his mouth. She was doing incredible things with her lips and tongue.

   Something was not right, though, and when it registered, Hutch pushed her away roughly to stare at the almost-nude body. Saucy lay on her back and kicked off the red satin dress that had tangled around her knees. Between the slim, smooth legs swayed a half-erect cock.

   "Holy Mother of God!"

   "Hardly holy, lover," Saucy whispered, the voice seductive and totally in control. "Just the best of both worlds." She pushed Hutch back onto the bed and explored his body again. "And if you can do for me what I'm gonna do for you...." she promised, stroking the flat planes of his chest and belly, and wrapping her fingers around his cock, "this one's on the house."

   The effect was repellent and alluring at the same time. Best of both worlds in one body? Saucy covered his mouth with hers and probed with her tongue. There was no time to protest and, surprisingly, no desire to do so.

   "My God, but you're beautiful," she crooned. The light touch of her fingertips on his skin made him shiver. "You see, lover, I'm very good at what I do. I'll have you begging." She bit gently at his belly, then dipped her tongue into his navel. Hutch's hips lifted automatically. "Doesn't take much, does it?" she asked with a throaty chuckle. "Think you can make me beg?"

   Flipping her onto her back, he nipped at the soft throat on a path to her ear. "Saucy, honey, when I get through, you'll be pregnant."

   She laughed, wicked and enticing, and Hutch kissed her on the mouth. A delightful game, kinkier than he had planned, but decidedly pleasurable. Hutch took Saucy's cock into his mouth, teasing the head with his tongue. Definitely kinky....

   Saucy moaned and squirmed under him. "Jesus, blondie, the way you suck cock!"

   "Um...." He caressed her balls and slid his fingers into the willing body. Then he chuckled.

   "What's so funny?"

   "Tell me, Saucy, am I sucking a woman's cock or am I gonna fuck a man with tits?"

   "Both...neither. Oh shut up and get on with it."

   He knelt between slender thighs, letting his own cock rest against Saucy's. "Think I'm worth a hundred?"

   She caught his head between her hands and pulled him down into a kiss that ended with a sharp bite on his lower lip. "Haven't seen you perform yet."

   "Think you can handle all this?" He stroked his own cock, coating it with oil until it glistened and throbbed in his hand.

   "If you ever stop teasing and start fucking, I'll let you know."

   "You askin'?"

   "I'm begging, blondie. All you got...please."

   He raised her hips, teasing with his fingers, enjoying the control. He entered her with a single stroke and she cried out as she drew her knees closer to her chest, pulling him deeper inside. He slid out and thrust in even harder, and catching the dilated eyes, asked, "Hundred and fifty?'

   "Jesusgodblondie, do it!" she gasped.

   They eased into a jolting rhythm, fast and hard--flat out fucking for the sheer joy of it. Saucy yelled the house down and it was not long before they both climaxed and collapsed in a sweaty heap.

   "Two hundred?" he gasped.

   Saucy laughed. "You've got to give me a chance to reciprocate, lover."

   "Think you're up to it?"

   "Just give me a minute and I'll fuck your legs off."

   "Promises, promises...."

   A while later she got up and went into the bathroom. Hutch watched as she moved across the room, graceful and terribly feminine. And yet there was that indefinable something extra that had been one of her attractions even before he had discovered her secret. When she came back, she washed him off and rubbed him down with a light, sweet- scented oil.

   Giving himself up to skilled hands, he warned, "I may start to purr."

   "Go right ahead, I like cats." She raked her nails gently over his stomach. He squirmed and laughed. "Ticklish? Ahhhh." Her hand crept between his thighs to caress him.

   "God, woman, where did you learn to do that?"

   Her hand crept back and teased the ring of muscle. "Woman? Is that what you see?" A finger slid into him, reaching forward to brush the prostate. He arched up and gasped. "Has this beautiful ass ever been fucked, blondie? 'Cause that's what I'm gonna do. Ever had a woman do that to you?" She gave him a shove. "Roll over, beautiful. I want you on your knees."

   She fucked like a crazy thing and Hutch felt himself getting a little crazy, too. He found himself howling like a cat in heat while she drove into him, digging her nails into the flesh over his hips. She came and slid out of him, leaving him dangerously close to the edge.


   "Want some more?"

   "Goddamn it, finish me!"

   She grinned at him. "Make me, lover."

   He grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled her down over his erection. "Do it!"

   "Do it, what?"

   "Please...for God's sake, please."

   "Well, since you asked so nicely. Two hundred?"

   "Oh Christ...."


   "Even," he conceded. She took his cock into her mouth and finished him expertly.

   "You oughta take it up professionally, lover," she advised as they curled up together in the center of the big bed, sharing a cigarette.

   "Nah. Too much work."

   "But you'd make a fortune."

   He wound a few strands of dark hair around his fingers. "I have a lover. He wouldn't like it. Besides, I have a job."

   "Doing what?"

   "I'm a cop."

   She picked her head up and stared down at him. "Are you joking?"

   "Not at all."

   "A cop with a male lover. Unusual."

   "Not as unusual as you, beautiful."

   "Touche. I'll never get another crack at you, will I?"

   "Never make assumptions," he grinned. "And I can spend the night."

   "But can you survive it?"

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