Starsky to Hutch, Shootout

This Reminds Me of a Movie I Saw Once by Blue Starsky

It was a Tuesday, a lot like any other Tuesday, only this was the third Tuesday in a row I hadn't had any work. Hard times for a P.I. who's late on his rent. It wasn't really quitting time, but I was tryin' to decide if I should stay or go to The Pits and grab a beer. I was just reaching for my coat when in walked this blond. The afternoon sun shining through the window hit him like a spotlight, made him sorta glow. I sized him up. He wasn't hard to look at. He didn't look like the kinda guy who spent a lot of time messin' with his appearance. But then, he didn't need to. He was a knock-out in a beige leather coat. A set of eyes the color of that blue glass that washes up on the beach, killer lashes, and a pair of long, sexy legs with a bulge in between 'em that would stop traffic. And it wasn't any gun.

"You Starsky, the detective?"

"Yeah," I told him. It was then that I noticed the lips. Full and moist, lips that a man would commit murder for. This man anyway. You knew there was a beautiful smile somewhere in there, but he wasn't smilin' today. "Yeah, I'm Starsky, the detective. That's one of the things they call me, anyway. Mind if I ask who you are?"

"Name's Hutchinson." He reached forward to shake my hand. His fingers were long, the kind of fingers that could play a sonata on the piano, then take a man to heaven in the bedroom. They weren't soft, like a woman's hands. These were working hands, and the handshake was firm and strong, if maybe a little apprehensive. "I need your help."

"Okay," I said. "Why don't ya sit down and talk about it?"

He pulled over that big heavy chair of mine as though it were light as a feather, sat down and proceeded to tell me his tale of woe. "It's like this," he said lighting up a cigarette. "When I got home from work this afternoon, somebody tossed a brick though my window. I think I know who it is, not sure though."

"And who do you think it is?"

"Guy by the name of Solkin, housemother at the Hotel Brennan. He's vermin, pure scum. If it's him or it isn't I just want the guy off my back."

"Why'd he have it in for you?"

"Well, I'm heading up an investigation right now. Trying to get some proof about who's behind a series of killings. I know that Artie's involved. I've never made any secret of how I feel about him. Maybe he'll crack, tell us what we want to know. Between his hate for me and his involvement in these killings, he's got plenty of motive to want to off me."

So, he wanted this guy off his back. Very interesting. And I don't mind admitting that for a more than a second I envied that cigarette as it rested between those tender lips. "Anything else?" He went on to tell me more about this Solkin character, his criminal record, and how he seemed to hold a grudge bad.

"And I found a rat in my icebox."

"Exactly what do you mean when you say 'a rat'?"

"I mean a rat."

"A rat rat?"

"Yeah. A dead rat."

"Nice neighborhood."

"Oh, you're a scream."

Interesting. He and I had something in common. I'd found a rattlesnake in a refrigerator once. Had to fight it off with a frying pan. Nearly killed me, that snake. It's a known fact, I know this kinda stuff cuz I read books, that when snakes strike, they'll bite the part o' you with the highest body temperature. And this snake was in between my legs . . . . But I didn't think he'd want to hear about that. It was too early for me to start tellin' him about anything between my legs anyway.

"I can't go over there and arrest him of course till I'm sure that he's responsible. If it's him, we can catch him. If, of course, you're willing to work with me. Not gonna go over and throttle him or anything," he said, and I could tell that this was a man with morals, a real stand-up guy. Vile as this guy, Solkin, was, he wasn't gonna go over there and rough him up, even though he was probably the one who was after him. He didn't know what the guy'd do next.

"You work alone? No partner or anything?" I asked.

"Yeah, I work alone. Never really clicked with anyone. Never needed any partner." He leaned across my desk to snub out his cigarette in my ashtray, and then he stayed real close to my face. "Never needed anyone till now. That's why I'm here Starsky."

His eyes were locked on mine. And bein' so close to me I could detect a sweet aroma that didn't come from any aftershave bottle. "Well, Hutchinson, I think we could work pretty nice together. Find out what this guy's been up to, get him to leave you alone." Then I can make a move, I thought.

He sat back down real slow and graceful-like, those long legs stretched straight out in front of him. "Good. I think so too. What do we do first?"

"Maybe I should take a look at your place. The damage he did." As I said this I thought that I could fix any damage he'd done to him or his place. Fix it real good.

"Okay. When?" He was no-nonsense, a clear masculine strength to go along with that sultry body. I knew he had to be a good cop. I knew he had to be good at a lotta things.

"You on duty tonight?"

"Nope. Off till tomorrow morning. You have plans for tonight?"

The question went through me like a bolt of lightning through a redwood, and I felt an immediate tightness against the fly of my pants. "None." I managed to say before gettin' my wits about me again. "I was about to go to my local bar. It's called The Pits. Right around the corner. Get some dinner. Maybe . . . . Maybe a hamburger. Go to your place after that?" I could see him roll all that around in his mind. There was a little grimace on his face for a second, and I was afraid that meant he wasn't sure about me. But then . . . .

"I don't eat hamburgers that often, but tonight, it'll be okay. Maybe I can get a salad on the side."

So, looked like he was into health food. Not exactly my style, but we could work on that. Looked like he was willing to give a little. It didn't escape my notice that he decided he was in the mood for meat that night.

We both got up, and I held the door open for him. Outside, as we walked to The Pits, I spotted our reflection in the window of a Chinese restaurant. Looked pretty good together. His tall blond and my powerful curly brunet. Not that he wasn't powerful, he was, but compared to him, I was more the compact size of powerful.

I let him walk up ahead so I could get a good look at those long legs in action. Got a glimpse of his backside too. An ass so ripe you'd wanna take a bite out of it. When I got back up to walk alongside him, I couldn't help but notice that he let me walk on ahead. Yeah. That was a real good sign. Glancing at his reflection in the next window I could see those blue eyes, even behind his tinted sunglasses, checkin' me out, up and down. I could almost feel him covering me. And that's when I saw it. A smile. Small and quick, sure—this guy's in trouble—but still it was a smile. Guess he thought I'd earned it. And I meant to be earnin' a whole lot more.

When we got to The Pits, he sat right next to me. This man had no problems with close physical proximity, and that was good. I could tell though that he wasn't like this with everybody. There was already somethin' special between us, but he didn't seem to realize just how special yet. Seemed more moody and introspective than me. Okay. We'd complement each other in more ways than one.

I ordered a burger, and he got one too. Must've forgot about the salad. We each got a bottle of beer. Longnecks. Then we got down to business.

"I was thinking maybe you could go 'round that sleazebag where he works. Tell him that he needs to get a new hobby, something besides messing with me. Give him a good dose of 'or else.' It could be stronger coming from someone besides just me. Maybe he'll get scared and move onto someone else. Maybe he'll crack and we'll find out how he's involved with these murders."

It was as though he'd read my mind. "Okay," I said. "Maybe I can find some . . . "

"Some starting point by looking at what he did to my place?"

For a second I thought someone'd slipped a Mickey into my brew. Woozy. Hutchinson and I seemed to be on the same wavelength. Yeah, this was gonna be a peach of a job. Just get this creep off his back, and maybe he'd want to climb onto mine.

Huggy, the proprietor of The Pits, is a friend of mine, and he knows me pretty good. Knows I've always been a solo act. That's the way I wanted it. Huggy also knows that there's never been anybody willin' or wantin' to put up with me on a regular basis. But I saw the look on his face when he saw me and Hutchinson sittin' next to each other—wouldn't've been possible to get any closer without me bein' in his clothes with him. I felt that tightness in my shorts again, so I took a long swig of beer and looked away.

"Huggy, this is Hutchinson. How ya doin' this afternoon?"

"Well fellas, I ain't dead, I ain't in the hospital, I ain't in jail, and I ain't married. Guess that means I'm doin' pretty good." He walked off to talk to another customer.

"Hey." It was Hutchinson. He put his hand on my arm, and just sorta left it there as he spoke. "How long you think this job will take? You worked on anything like this before?"

We talked while we drank our beers. He got another. Then I was gonna get a second one for the road but Hutchinson said he didn't want the rest of his and I could have it. All right. I looked him in the eye as I took a good long swig. Just as I'd hoped, the taste of him lingered on the rim. I made a little show of letting my lips pucker around the opening. He coughed a little and I passed him the bottle. Between the two of us we finished off that brew just fine.

Couldn't help but notice how those fingers of his wrapped 'round the bottle. He had good, large hands. Pretty soon it looked like the bottle was gettin' the best part of the deal. "What do you do on your off time? He have a pretty good idea of your schedule?" I undid one more button on my shirt and twirled some chest hair around a finger.

He started to answer, but then suggested that we get goin' to his place.

He'd taken a cab to my office and we'd ride to his place together. We walked out to the parking lot. That was the first time he got a look at my car.

"Kind of, um, conspicuous, isn't it?" I took a corner fast and what do you know, Hutchinson slid over against me. "You always drive fast?"

"We're gonna get this guy, Hutchinson. This guy's a sleazy criminal and you and I are criminal catchers." He laughed.

He lived over a French restaurant in the Venice section of town. We pulled up in front of his place. "Get a load o' the tub somebody parked out here," I said, motioning toward this battered hulk that used to be some kind of a car.

"That's my car, Starsky," he said, and I tried to get as inconspicuous as I could.

We walked up the stairs to his apartment and he took the key down from where it'd been over the doorframe. I couldn't believe a cop would leave the key to his place out in the open like that. "How old are you anyway, Hutchinson?"

"Old enough," he said as he held the door open for me. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Yeah, I thought, old enough is right.

His place was just like him - light, airy and alive on one hand, but at the same time sturdy and tough and cool. Lots of plants and big windows, and lots of heavy wood furniture. There was this huge wavy piece of driftwood that rose like a tree against one wall. Had a piano off to one side, and some half finished paintings against a wall. Could see that this guy's life wasn't all police work. Couldn't help glancing into the bedroom. He had this ornate kinda scrolly brass headboard. I could just picture myself holdin' onto that thing, sittin' down on my golden boy's lap some night. An' then reversing the roles.

Yeah, that bed looked plenty sturdy. I threw a wink in its direction - figured I'd introduce myself early, cuz if I played my cards right, that big bed was gonna become acquainted with my naked ass sooner than later. I picked up the brick that had come through the window and he knelt down with a little broom and started sweeping up the glass. "Did they leave a note?"

He chuckled half-heartedly and asked me to hand him the dustpan that was leaning in the corner. I did, kneeling down in front of him. And as he swept the shards of glass into the pan, I just looked at him. This could be a real dangerous situation, I told myself, but I was way past caring about any danger. He glanced over at me with a look that would've brought me to my knees if I hadn't already been on 'em. As he finished sweeping, I wondered if he knew how hard he was also sweepin' me off my feet.

He went to sit on the couch and told me to look in the icebox. "Don't mind if I do," I said. It was a rat in there all right. "You got some very sick people mad at you." He didn't have much else in there, a few cans of Big Cat Malt Liquor; maybe he ate out a lot. "What's this?" I picked up a jar that was alongside the rat, opened it and took a whiff. The stench almost knocked me over. "Somethin' else they left for ya?" I showed him the jar.

"No," he said glancing at the jar. "That's a special blend of vitamins and minerals. Some acidophilus fiber, bee pollen, yohimbe bark, and, uhhhh . . . ." He looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, and some gamma oryzanol. Some other stuff too, I think. Maybe shark cartilage. I blend that up with goats' milk every morning. Makes a healthy breakfast."

I smiled and nodded. My idea of a healthy breakfast was eatin' leftover pizza that had some vegetables on it. Guess if those are the ingredients, strange though they may be, that put together this blond fireball, I wouldn't think of tryin' to deny him any of it. I screwed the jar back on the lid as tight as I could and thought about his weird food and his car. I decided that there was a lot about him that I could learn to live with, cuz I already knew that this was the one person I couldn't live without.

"Ya know one thing that bothers me," his shirt was half unbuttoned, and he was rubbin' the backs of his fingernails over his chest. "Whoever put that rat in my icebox has got a way through my front door."

"Look Hutchinson, if you're gonna leave your key outside like that, a lotta people might find a way through your front door." He was real upset, but I saw a little grin, and I thought I might be able to help the guy cut down a little on the worryin'. "Not just people of course. Stray dogs. Maybe some o' them legless frogs and escaped snails from the restaurant downstairs come crawlin' up here." And there it was, pay dirt. A smile so bright I thought the Pepsodent people must come to him when they want to know how perfect teeth would look.

When I left his place, parts of me were feelin' lighter than air. And other parts of me were bugging me to get back in there.

When I woke up, I immediately thought of Hutchinson. Thinkin' about those legs, and everything the legs were holdin' up. Nature had been very good to him. And I'd spent the night dreamin' of the beauties of nature. Thank goodness for cold showers.

We had enough evidence to know that Solkin was our man. Hutchinson came over to my place for breakfast so we could plan our strategy. I decided to make him one of my patented Starsky breakfasts. Eggs, bacon, toast, the whole shebang. As we sat down to eat I summoned up the nerve to ask him, "How do you like it?"

He took a drink of his hot, black coffee and said, "Well, I'd like it just about any way you'd put it out."

Note to self: See if laundry can get grape jelly out of jeans.

For a while we just talked, telling each other about ourselves. He told me about how he'd been a Sea Scout in Duluth. I was gettin' a little lost in his voice, for the moment not as strained as it had been at my office yesterday. His voice was kind of soft, masculine though, reverberatin' through my kitchen. I was glad I'd put away the butter, cuz the sound of him would've made the whole stick melt right there in its dish.

Finally we got down to business. Hutchinson told me that there was another murder last night. While the victims had few if any similarities, the methods of the murders were identical. Beating. Last night a woman was waiting for her husband to get off work. She was in the car and saw someone attack him; freaked out and drove to the police station. She was the only thing like a witness they'd had and was being questioned, and consoled, by cops now.

"These people were killed intentionally. They weren't just cash and carry taps on the legs that went wrong."

"Okay," I told him as I wet a kitchen towel and scrubbed my pants. "I'll go pay a visit to Mr. Solkin this morning."

The Hotel Brennan was a dive; the front room was dark, smelled like a locker room. I went up to visit Solkin. The guy's hair was drippin' out this dark liquid that reminded me that I needed to buy clean out my gutters. It dribbled down his face makin' wet, squiggly patterns like he'd spent the night face down against an alligator bag. He looked at you kinda sideways, cringing but at the same time like he wanted to take a punch at you. His two-tone shoes were scuffed and stained, and his clothes smelled like the recycled beer you might find on the sidewalk on a hot day downtown. He sat down and poured some whisky into a jelly jar. I didn't mention Hutchinson at all, just focused on the murders. He didn't know that I wasn't a cop, didn't know I ever had been one, and I didn't bother to tell him any different. His room made the lobby of the hotel look like the Taj Mahal. Some freaky military posters, stacks of old newspapers, rust and mildew seemed to cling to everything, even the air. Had a jar of 1964 Kennedy half dollars on a shelf. "Why not tell me where you were last night."

"Don't you guys ever get sick of bothering me??"

"Of course not, man. We love ya, Artie!"

"Hey, can the birdseed, will ya?"

"Okay. You gonna play ball with me or do I have to . . . ."

"I was here. Alone. I was sleeping." This was going nowhere. It was tempting to ring his chimes, and I felt like beltin' him if only because he'd been after my golden boy, but couldn't do that. Had to play this one by the rules.

Said golden boy and I on his lunch break and he asked me how it was going. As I was talkin', he reached over, grabbed my pickle, took a bite out of it then handed it back to me. Hmmmm, I thought, as I finished off the dill, pretty soon we'll be able to save money by gettin' just one lunch. The way he looked at me made me a little nervous, maybe a little high - as though he had a window into my head.

While I'd had my rendezvous with Artie, Hutchinson had been questioning a kid who used to run with Solkin. The kid had told him about some guy named Tommy, a.k.a. The Spook.

He called into the station and his captain said that the wife of the last murder victim had remembered the man who approached her husband just before the beating had been wearing two-tone shoes. She'd seen them clearly in the light of the parking garage. And one other thing. In going back over the personal effects of one of the other victims, they found a '64 JFK half-dollar. Artie one, Artie two. We split in my car back to the Hotel Brennan.

We found him in The Spook's room. I peered around the corner, and when Hutchinson busted in there, Tommy ran into the corner and started shakin' like a wet dog in a snowstorm. Artie pulled a gun.

Hutchinson was pretty hard on him. He had him alright, and he knew Solkin was diggin' his grave deeper and deeper. "You're not dumb enough to shoot a cop, are ya, Artie?" Neither of us was willing to just stand around and wait for Artie's response. Hutchinson lunged for him and he swiveled around, aiming the gun at me. And with one jaguar-like movement, he tackled him to the ground, taking hold of his weapon in no time. The Spook picked up a baseball bat and went after Hutchinson. I cut him off at the pass, and he made a staggering run for it, but I pinned him down just in time to hand him and Artie over to the uniformed cops who were arriving.

Hutchinson and I both had to go down to the station. So did Artie and Tommy. Difference was, Hutchinson and I had a pleasant evening planned, Artie and Tommy weren't gonna be quite so lucky.

I was a mess. The police captain recognized me, maybe only by name, as I'd worked one precinct over. Funny that I'd never run into Hutchinson until now. He said I could grab a shower while he finished booking our catch. The police showers hadn't changed. Still looked like they did when I was a cop years ago.

Shortly after we got back to Hutchinson's place, he said he needed a shower after all, and asked if I'd hang around till he was done. I said sure. I knew that if we didn't make it official, if we didn't get into each other's pants, and quick, we wouldn't be able to accomplish anything else - workin' together or not.

I remember bein' a little stunned. The door opened and here's this larger than life creature, an apparition walkin' out of a cloud of steam without so much as an abracadabra. I smiled cuz there was flesh where his clothes used to be, and his wet hair'd taken on this kind of caramel color. He looked like one of those statues they show in art books. Smooth and sleek, you could see every muscle, and there were plenty to see. His hands weren't reaching out to me yet, but another part of his body sure was. He hadn't dried off much. Okay. That's why I was here. Dry him off, and then wet him down again. Drops of water clung to his skin sparkling like little flashlights/spotlights in the setting sun. I realized that it was at this same time a couple days ago that he'd first come into my office. He looked terrific in this light, clothed or not. Hell, he looked great in any light.

He came to me like some great cat, big enough, sure, but slow and purposeful, offering himself and at the same time ready to devour me. The monument in front of him didn't escape my notice. No way it could have. Tall and proud, made me wonder how he walked around, stayed upright. I wanted to get my fingers wrapped around it soon. His balls were full and round, you'd need two hands, I could tell. If he'd been a bull they would've called him a breeder. I'd make good use of them too. Looked forward to seein' them swing beneath him as I perfected my jockey technique. Yeah, I was lookin' forward to ridin' this great white horse to the finish line.

Never really appreciated how large his hands were until they were unbuttoning my shirt and sifting through the hair on my chest. His cock nudged me in the groin, knocking at the door.

After he slipped off my shirt, I decided to join in, let him know that I wanted to give as good as I got. I reached down and unbuckled my belt. He pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. The smell of him was really gettin' to me. If you bottled it, no man would ever have a problem gettin' off again. I felt the warm hands on my back and knew it was my turn to make the decisions. When I reached down to unbutton and unzip my jeans, I was rewarded with an eager hand in between my thighs.

"I don't usually do this kind of thing," he said. And I knew it wasn't just a line. I knew because I didn't usually do this kind of thing. Jump in the sack less than a week after meeting someone. Never met anyone so right before He took my left hand and kissed the palm. "You're left handed," he said.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Watching you. I'm a detective myself, Starsky."

"Well, Hutchinson, let's see if you can't uncover anything else here tonight."

"You want me, Starsky?"

I made a 'yes' with my lips and used it to glue a kiss on his mouth, he parted his lips, offering a passage to heaven. The first one anyway. The flavor was a little like cinnamon mixed with chocolate, and some other spices I couldn't identify yet. I leaned in for another sip, which turned into a longer drink. He must've been born in a very good year for Hutchinsons. I was lookin' forward to popping his cork.

Slowly, I drew my hands over that slick chest. My fingers lingering over the nipples, hard, rounded little nubs that made my lips ache to suckle.

Then he backed off for a second. "S-Starsky, This is real. This is it. Doesn't happen twice in a lifetime."

"Yeah," I said. "This is it. I ain't goin' nowhere." We understood each other, and I felt like I might levitate at any moment.

"Good. Care to join me for a little skinny dipping?"

"You got a pool?" I asked him.


My heart bounced like a trampoline in my chest. "Okay."

As he helped me slide off my jeans, his hands rubbed all over my ass, and he growled his approval into the nape of my neck. "Feels as good as it looks," he purred. I wiggled in his hands and felt ten fingers squeeze tight.

His cock was so massive I wondered if he couldn't use it to uproot some of those old redwoods they got up north. That was a cock that demanded attention, and I gave it all the attention it deserved. "I ever tell ya that I'm pretty good on the slide trombone?" And then I went on to show him a thing or two. "I wanna see if you taste as delicious as I thought you would." I started licking spirals around it, toying with his balls at the same time, and he gave me a scalp massage while lettin' out little grunts of pleasure. Oh yeah, I liked to make this man vocalize.

He took my cock into his mouth like I was made of chocolate and he had the world's biggest sweet tooth. This bein' our first time, and this bein' the first time I'd been with anybody in a while, it wasn't gonna take very long. He had a real talented tongue, worked me over like I was a pair o' pants in a washing machine. It washed, squeezed, tugged and sucked until suddenly I felt myself slidin' down that luscious throat. As his nose messed around in my pubes, I provided him with a creamy dessert, and happy to say that he seemed to like it.

I could see that he was rarin' to go again, so I surveyed the room and spotted a nice chair. I stepped over my jeans where they lay on the floor, went over and sat down, draping a leg over each of the arms. "You look like you could use a good fuck," I said to him. He nearly burst right there.

"You sure?"

I nodded my head.

His concern for me made my insides start to melt, and I motioned with my foot for him to come on over. He bent down and we shared a kiss that started off PG and went on to become X.

He knelt in front of me, and parted my cheeks smooth and kind of gentle, like he was pulling apart some curtains and lookin' at a real great sunset or somethin'. The look on his face went right to my heart—and other places too as my cock tapped out SOS in Morse code on my stomach. Made me wanna do anything for this man, wanna spend the rest of my life tryin' to make him feel the way he had me feelin' right now. Those lips that I'd first admired in my office, that had just tasted my mouth and drank from my cock, separated and he started spongin' my ass with wet kisses, then my balls then down lower. And when his tongue started skatin' around my hole, I was gone. I was out. I was his.

"You an ant-eater in your spare time?" I asked with what laugh I could muster. He just smiled and went on to show me in no uncertain terms that answer appeared to be yes. The guy could scramble eggs with that tongue. And then I couldn't take it anymore. I nudged him with my knee. "Got any . . . ?"

"Yeah. Got some last night," he said, and when he produced the lube I thought about how fast the two of us were gonna need to buy more.

When his lubed middle finger slid into me, I wondered who'd set the room spinning. His clever finger was long enough to torment my sweet spot without even trying. Custom made.

I guessed that it wasn't the only thing that would be a perfect fit. "Hutchinson, I think you got yourself a partner now." He smiled and took an animated little bite outta my left cheek. And then one finger became two, and the two were joined by a third. I lifted my ass off the chair and all he had to do was hold those lovin' fingers steady and I fucked myself as we watched each other's faces.

"Lemme take that," I said, squeezing some lube into his hand. He warmed it in his hands and applied some to his cock, until it looked like a big, shiny baton lookin' for a place to go.

His left hand came to rest on the underside of my right thigh, and he took hold of himself. "You okay?" I was more than okay. My hole was twitchin' and throbbin' inside, just waiting for him to fill me up, make me his.

"Yeah, Blondie. Do it." He smiled at bein' called Blondie as though no one'd ever called him that before. And then he followed my instructions.

He leaned forward and kissed my leg. "Tell me if you want me to ease up." I said I would and positioned myself a little better to give him easier access.

He opened me up like I was a Christmas package. Makin' himself right at home. It was a tight fit, tight and hot.

I put a hand behind each knee and pulled him in to the hilt. He moaned like some enormous tongue had just licked his whole body in one swipe. "Take me, Hutchinson. Seal this partnership, man."

I swear he seemed to expand inside me like a molly bolt, one of those plastic-sheathed nails you use to hang a real heavy picture. He looked me in the eye and pulled almost all the way out, real slow and easy. I've been on a roller coaster or two in my day, and had a pretty good idea what was coming next. He slammed back into me so hard that I was sure I must've had the impression of his upholstery etched into my back. And then the ride began in earnest. He had perfect aim this way too, assaultin' my sweet spot something fierce. He reached forward and grabbed my cock, going on to pump it as he fucked me, like he was churnin' butter or something. I tried to keep lookin' though, looking at his body and especially at his face.

Sometimes he'd be watchin' himself plow into me. I'd clamp my ass muscles around him and he'd yelp in approval. Other times though his head was tilted back, mouth open, jaw twitching a little, lips offerin' me silent praise. How was it that I understood him on only our first time? I wasn't askin' how. It just was, and it was the way it was supposed to be. I just enjoyed it.

About five seconds after I'd erupted all over both of us, he filled me with his seed. I licked my lips, rememberin' his flavor. I wrapped my legs around him so he wouldn't slip out. "I'm yours, Hutchinson," I said and pulled him into a kiss.

"When do you want me to take the hot seat?" He asked, pushing sweaty bangs off of his forehead.

"We got the rest of our lives, babe."

He nodded and moved in close again. "Don't forget Starsky, I'm yours too. We're going to run this show together."

Now that we'd successfully decided who was whose, I started thinkin' about how we'd work out some other issues. Like how to get some of my kind o' food in the icebox. I eased my legs off him and he popped out of my body with a sound like a suction cup being pulled off a window. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me. Then he led me to the bedroom where I got my first close up of that headboard, a headboard I'd be seein' a lot from now on.

He told me to lie on my stomach, and then he tended to my flaming hole with an assortment of cool cloths, warm towels and soothing creams. Next, he proceeded to rub my back, easin' sore muscles. Yeah, this had been a peach of a job alright. And now we'd been christened with each other's juices. Then he was cuddlin' me up all warm and protective like. I let him do it. Hell, I wanted him to do it.

"I could get used to this, Hutchinson," I said, easing a knee in between those powerful, sweaty thighs.

"Hey, Starsk," he said. "Why don't you call me Hutch."

The End