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Part Three

Charlotte Frost


It was the sense that something was different that awakened him. Hutch sat up in bed, staring into darkness, listening.

Through the corner of his eye, he could see that the bedside clock glowed with hands that indicated it was past 2:30 in the morning. He was also aware, as he sat with ears strained, that he was alone in bed. It had been a while since he had slept alone.

A definite noise this time. Then a whisper. "Hutch?"

The blond relaxed. "Just a second." He reached to the bedside lamp and turned it on.

Starsky was standing before the bed, dressed in a nice sweater and jeans darker than his usual faded denim.

"Where have you been?" Hutch asked, his tone one of curiosity.

Starsky moved around to the side of the bed. "With Josie."

Hutch blinked, a myriad of emotions sifting through him. Confusion won. "Doing what?" But even as he asked, he knew.

Starsky sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off a shoe. "What do you think?" he said over his shoulder, but he wouldn't meet his partner's eye.

Hutch's stomach twisted. He thought he should be outraged that Starsky would come here, right after leaving someone else. After what he'd done....

"Then why come here?" he managed in a level tone. Then, more harshly, "After you've been with her."

The other shoe was removed and Starsky sat with his head bowed. "I had to see her, Hutch," he said. "You know I had to. Had to prove to myself...."

The blond took a deep breath. Yes, he had known that. Had known it all along. That had been why he hadn't expected any promises. And it was why he didn't feel outraged, even though he thought he should.

He decided to be practical. "Was it...all right?"

Starsky reached down and worked with his socks. A shrug. "Yes, I guess it was. I proved what I needed to prove." He shifted to face his partner, pulling one knee upon the bed.

Hutch straightened with alarm. "You want to come into bed with me after you've been with her?"

The other man blinked, voice a touch feeble. "I showered before I left her place."

Hutch shook his head in disbelief and stared at the ceiling, hoping he might find guidance there.

There was the sound of a swallow. "I'll leave if you want me to."

The blond closed his eyes. He should be angry, but he wasn't. He wanted to be mad, but he couldn't. He should tell Starsky to leave, but he wouldn't.

The bed shifted and Hutch opened his eyes just as Starsky stretched out on the mattress, head in his hand. "You ready for the good news?"

His curiosity kicked into gear. "Try me."

Starsky grinned affectionately, then lowered his gaze. "You know, it's amazing how, some times, human beings have to learn the same lessons over and over."

"What lessons?"

"Like hangovers. You wake up from one and you tell yourself you'll never indulge to that extent again. It isn't worth it. But, then, a coupla weeks or a coupla months, maybe even a coupla years later, you're downing the booze and you don't care how you're gonna feel the next mornin'."

When Starsky paused, Hutch said, "I'm with you."

"Well, it's that way with sex, too. When you've experienced bein' in love with someone, you find out that the 'just sex' stuff really isn't very satisfying, doesn't even compare. But, there you are, lining up another conquest, and not caring that you're going to feel lousy afterwards."

Hutch's brows pulled together. Starsky seemed very cheerful. "You feel lousy?"

Another shrug. "No. I needed to make sure I could do it, and I don't feel lousy that I proved that I could. And Hutch," his gaze lowered again, "she wanted me, and she felt good, and she was young and eager and...all that stuff. But, when I'm in the shower, I'm thinkin' to myself, 'Why should I ever do this again? Why should I ever go to bed with someone just...because?'" His eyes darted to his partner again and his face softened. "No one else is ever gonna make me feel the way you do. No one is ever gonna know my heart or my mind like you do. No one is ever gonna give so much of themselves to me as you do."

Hutch felt his chest constricting, his heart expanding, his stomach uncoiling. He knew his mouth was open, but he didn't know what he could say.

"So I guess," Starsky went on, "what I'm saying is that..." he shifted so he could hold his hands open, "I'm all yours. Exclusively. Don't wanna belong to no one else. You've got all rights to me." His eyes lowered bashfully. "You can claim 'em whenever you want 'em."

Hutch swallowed thickly. It was an invitation. To finish what they'd started so they could begin a whole new adventure. Together. But he couldn't see acting upon Starsky's words. It would be too rushed. The mood wasn't right for him to take the necessary time to get his partner ready. And he wasn't going to dare risk undoing all their careful progress the past week.

Starsky sat up and pulled off his sweater, leaving a T-shirt beneath. He moved over to Hutch and straddled the blond, sitting on his thighs. He put his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Want to claim your rights now?"

Hutch put his arms around the compact frame before him, resting his hands at the other's spine. He shook his head. "No. Just sleep for now."

The other grinned. "Okay," he said softly. But he bent and kissed Hutch's forehead, then rested his own forehead there, his hands coming up to pet the blond hair. "I love you so much, Hutch."

Hutch closed his eyes and swallowed. Starsky had never been big on saying it. He just showed it over and over in a million different ways.

"So incredible that it's come to this," the darker man muttered.

"As much as I hate to say it," Hutch pointed out, "I guess we have the Creeps to thank for that."

Starsky pulled back abruptly. "Hutch, no," he insisted, his eyes boring into his partner's. "It would have happened anyway. You gotta believe that. You would have found the courage to tell me what you were wantin' to tell me, with or without the Creeps."

Hutch wasn't convinced, but he gave in gracefully. "I guess you're probably right."

The other's eyes narrowed. Then, softly, "Hutch? I hope you don't think that just because it wasn't my idea that...." He tried again. "I mean, just because it never would have otherwise occurred to me for us to sleep together, that doesn't mean...doesn't mean that I ever felt...well, you know, less about you. I mean, I didn't love you any less than you loved me just because I never would have thought about...showin' it...this way."

The blond head shook, his heart expanding. "Starsky, I never thought that." He laid his head against the other's chest, feeling the fur through the cotton of the T-shirt. "I've always felt very, very loved by you."

"Good," Starsky's arms came around him, "'cause I've always been crazy about you. 'Sides, you have an active imagination."

Hutch grinned, too. "That's from reading all those National Geographics."

Starsky pulled back. "If that's the case, then I'm gonna have to get you a lifetime subscription."

Hutch put his hands on the other's cheeks and pulled his face closer. He kissed the soft lips.

Tauntingly, Starsky asked, "Sure you wanna just sleep?"

Hutch reached to turn out the light. Then he lowered them both down. "Yes, sleep. Together."

Starsky began to wriggle around. "Gotta get the rest of my clothes off."

Hutch waited until the grunts of effort ceased. Then he rolled toward Starsky, enclosing the other in his arms. One of his hands reached down to a naked rear and pressed it closer.

There was more wriggling as Starsky got comfortable. Then he muttered, "I can't wait until you claim your rights to me."

The blond kissed the part of Starsky's neck that was next to his lips. "Behave yourself, and I'll think about it."

Starsky giggled.

* * *

The puppy in the window tried to follow Starsky's finger as he tapped repeatedly against the glass. When it finally turned away to give its attention to a customer inside the store, Starsky straightened and looked down the street. Hutch had dropped Starsky off to talk to the owner of the Laundromat next door, while Hutch took the LTD around the block to interview the liquor store salesman. Both had been victims of heists the past week.

Finally, he spotted the LTD as it turned the corner. But it wasn't a casual turn. The tires were squealing. In fact, Hutch was putting the mars light on the roof.

Starsky ran to the curb as the car screeched to a halt just long enough to let him in. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

The blond's jaw was firm. "There's trouble down at the old industrial area. A patrolman has been assaulted. Other units have closed in."

"Dammit," Starsky swore.

They listened to the activity on the radio. They had not been called to participate, but Starsky signed them out with the code for a lunch break so they could at least act as bystanders.

When they arrived black-and-whites were all over the scene. So were a couple of ambulances. Most of the officers were gathered around in a circle in the street.

In the circle were three covered bodies.

"What the hell happened, Douglason?" Starsky asked the nearest man.

The uniformed officer turned to the pair. He said, "Brookman and Tomilson responded to a call about a cat trapped in an old warehouse. They separated to look for it and Brookman got jumped." Douglason shook his head, his voice quivering. "He got jumped by three guys and they assaulted him. They tried to...sexually assault him. Tomilson didn't know where Brookman was and he called for backup. They found the three suspects and a shootout occurred. We got two of them. The third killed himself when he knew he wasn't going to get away."

Starsky nodded at the man and he moved closer to the bodies. He knelt down to the nearest one. Though he knew it wouldn't tell him anything, since he'd never gotten a good look at his assailants, he pulled back the covering. An unknown face greeted him.

He glanced back at Detective Gunnison, who was nearby. "You find out his identity yet?"

Gunnison glanced at his pad. "The ID on him said his name was Samuel Jones."

"Use this. That ought to split him in two." The words from the one named "Samuel" came back to him. Starsky had thought he was going to die when those words were spoken.

Gently, Gunnison asked, "Did you know him, Detective?"

Starsky realized he'd been staring at the face a long time without seeing it. He looked up. "No." He let the sheet drop. "I didn't know him at all."

His partner was standing back, watching him. As Starsky approached, the other's expression asked for confirmation.

Teeth gritted, Starsky muttered, "They got what they deserved." And walked past him to the LTD.

Hutch followed.

* * *

The warm tongue lapped along his flushed lips. It was amazing to Starsky, how they always seemed to be so hungry for each other. They both had a need to taste each other over and over again. Experiencing each other with their mouths seemed more important than anything else. Still...

"You ever gonna put your prick in there?" he asked breathlessly. They'd already been through nearly an hour of foreplay.

Hutch laved at the area underneath Starsky's chin, then straightened. One greasy hand disappeared between Starsky's legs.

Starsky's eyes sought the ceiling as he felt fingers probe at him, then pushed in. From how much they stretched him, he knew it was three. They had been inserted at once...Hutch making sure he could handle the thickness. The whole area was already so relaxed from having taking three before--albeit one at a time--that the insertion was entirely painless.

"Hutch," he began, feeling a touch of amusement, "I know your prick's so huge that it ought to be certified as a dangerous weapon, but I really don't think it's any thicker than three of your fingers put together." He could feel the flat of the blond's hand against his ass, meaning the digits were in as far as they could go.

"Just making sure," Hutch muttered.

His hand slowly pulled back, and the fingers turned, probing upward.

Starsky gasped and closed his eyes. Demon. It created the feeling that his balls were being massaged from the inside. Hutch had already driven him crazy earlier tonight doing that, and then sucking him until he came.

Abruptly, everything was removed. "That'll teach you," the blond said. When Starsky opened his eyes, he saw the satisfied grin.

It left him feeling empty...wanting to be filled again. Hutch.

Hutch leaned over him, his expression softening as he placed a hand on Starsky's middle. "How do you want it?" he whispered.

It was on the tip of Starsky's tongue to say However you want it. But he knew from when he'd fucked Hutch that being face-to-face made for awkward mechanics. And he didn't want to just lie there and be fucked. When he'd done Hutch, he well remembered how it had felt...that tightness pulling at his prick as he moved in and out. From the other end, he intended to enjoy it at least as much.

Starsky sat up, "Let's try this way." He got on all fours and swung around until his ass was facing the edge of the bed. "Get behind me."

Hutch took a deep breath, and his cheeks billowed as he exhaled. He reached for the pathetically flat tube of grease.

"You don't want that," Starsky told him. "If you put it on you, too, it's gonna make everything too slippery." He grinned. "Just bring that thing over here and I'll use spit." He really didn't think any lubrication--he had more than enough up his ass--was necessary, but he wanted an excuse to put his mouth on it.

Hutch hesitated, then abruptly dropped the tube.

Starsky reached for the protrusion between the pale thighs. Hutch moved closer, on his knees, and Starsky ducked his head and lapped the smooth-skinned shaft.

"Oh, God," Hutch whispered. His hand came up and grasped his partner's jaw.

Starsky drooled liberally upon the head, then licked it back to the shaft, loving the smooth skin. Then he ducked his head farther and pressed his nose against the pouch there.

Hutch gasped sharply, his hand now moving briskly about Starsky's hair.

Starsky licked at the hair-covered ovals, darting his tongue along the seam. When his mouth went dry he pulled back, loving how Hutch's shaft brushed against his cheek. He looked up at his partner. "You ready to fuck?"

The blond's mouth was open. He nodded, breathing heavily.

"Then get behind me."

Hutch got up from the bed and obeyed.

Starsky felt a hand on his lower back. It applied pressure, and he spread his legs, lowering his ass. "Lower?"

Another gripped his right cheek. "Perfect," came the whisper-soft reply. The hand on his back moved up his spine, then rested between his shoulder blades.

Though the hand didn't push, Starsky lowered his upper body to the mattress, stretching his arms out in front of him. Maximizing his vulnerability.

Fingers brushed against his balls, then gripped them. A noise of pleasure escaped his lips. Another hand took his shaft and stroked. He was rock hard. Even after the blow job Hutch had already delivered.

While the hands fondled him, he was aware of the stiffness poking at the back of his thigh.

After a moment, feeling himself grow harder with stimulation and impatience, he asked, "You aren't afraid, are you?" Surely Hutch realized he was way past being ready.


Starsky swallowed, listened to the beating of his own heart. The hands left him. One reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. The room went dark.

Nothing was touching him now. Starsky waited, hearing both their breaths.

Something was inserted inside him. A finger again. Only one.

"Grip it."

Starsky did.

"As hard as you can."

He obeyed, but muttered, "Would rather it be your prick."



The finger was removed. His left buttock was gripped.

And then wetness licked along his spine.

Starsky quivered. Oh, God. Damn that tongue. Shakily, he said, "If you don't hurry up I'm gonna come all over the bed."

"What's wrong with coming all over the bed?" Hutch asked casually, and then his tongue continued up Starsky's back.

"You big dummy," Starsky accused. He was trying to resist the urge to squirm. He'd been in such a perfect position to receive Hutch. "I'd really like to enjoy being fucked first."

A soft chuckle as the tongue stopped. Then lips kissed his shoulder blade.

"My legs are getting tired, you big, goddamned tease."

For a moment there was silence and all contact was removed. "Starsk?" Hutch's voice sounded soft and serious.


"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much in bed?"

Starsky slapped the mattress with his hand. "If you don't hurry up, I'm gonna rip your prick off and use it to fuck myself."

Another soft chuckle. "That's an interesting image. I'd love to watch."

Starsky growled, then realized nothing he could say would help speed things along. In defeat, he slumped against the mattress, his legs still spread, his arms stretching out farther in front of him. "H-u-u-u-tch," he begged in small voice.

A hand was back on his shaft, squeezing around the head. "Starsk?" The tone was soft and tender this time.

"What?" he pouted.

"I love you."

Starsky felt his upper body melt against the mattress. His penis twitched, trying to dance in the hand that pampered it.

"So much."

Ah, man. "Hutch?" Starsky waited a beat. "My heart's on fire."

His right buttock was gripped. The tender voice whispered, "So's mine."

His lower back was petted. Then his butt. There were hands shifting, fumbling. Flesh inserted.

He released the breath he'd been holding. Fingers again. Three of them this time. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, since Hutch wouldn't have seen it. The fire in his heart billowed and expanded. He knew Hutch had to check after the few minutes of conversation, to make sure the parting of his partner's flesh was still painless.

Hardness was brushing against the back of his balls, buoying at the smooth skin between his nuts and his ass. Hutch pushed and Starsky squirmed. That little area was ultra sensitive and he'd discovered it with his tongue when previously working Hutch over and made his partner crazy with his attentions there.

His prick flared painfully.

The fingers were removed. The hardness was now at the lower part of his rear cleavage. He felt a hand adjust it upward. And then it was there against his asshole.

Another hand pushed at the top of his butt, and he lowered his ass again, even though his legs were weary from being stretched for so long. Then the hand pulled, as though having second thoughts, and Starsky tried to raise himself. He let the hand adjust him further so that he was in position for the best possible aim.

Hutch's panting was loud and heavy.

A push and he was penetrated. He knew it was Hutch's prick this time. It didn't feel any bigger than the trio of fingers, but he felt the roundness of the head.

A grunt of satisfaction broke the silence.

The flesh seemed to pull back, and Starsky was fearful of losing it. But then it pushed forward, penetrating farther.

"Ah, Hutch." He loved knowing they were sharing a single physical space.

"Think you can take all of it?" The question was a panted plea.

Starsky felt a grin break out on his face. "You kiddin'?" Then, gently, "Make yourself happy, buddy boy."

The blond's breath trembled. His hands gripped Starsky's hips, and then long, thick flesh speared him.

"Ah, man." Starsky's pricked throbbed in the air. The thickness was up inside his ass...farther than Hutch's fingers had ever gone.

Hutch groaned...loud and long. And then a quick grunt as Starsky's cheeks were parted wide and course hairs pressed against the parted flesh.

A few sharp breaths, then "That's the whole thing, partner." The tone was one of both pride and praise...and restrained pleasure.

"Man," Starsky panted. He loved how long it was. How huge. Loved that it had the potential to give his partner so many wonderful feelings. "Fuck me with it, Hutch."

"If I do," the blond's voice trembled, "we'll end up in outer space."

Starsky grinned. "Then it'll be a heck of a ride."

"But," the voice was tight with restraint, "we'll suffocate from lack of oxygen."

His love for Hutch surged past his heart and threatened to expand out through his pores. "Then we'll die a beautiful death together." Starsky took a deep breath. "Take us there, you big gorgeous beauty."

He felt it flare inside him. Then it pulled back. And then it slammed deep and Hutch's weight drove him and the mattress toward the floor, the blond's flanks against his ass, the box springs squealing in protest.

And then it snaked backwards....

And slammed forward, and Starsky had to brace his exhausted thighs to keep his hips from being flattened against the mattress.

It pulled back and Starsky waited. Just as it slammed forward once again, he pushed off his hands and forced himself back against it.

Starsky gritted his teeth and Hutch cried out as their bodies smacked together, jarring them both, the vibration from the collision ricocheting through his ass.

Starsky used his legs to push himself forward as Hutch pulled back, and there were more soft cries of delight. His own prick turned to stone, envious of the snug friction the other's was receiving.

He focused on the rhythm...pushing back as Hutch slammed forward, and rocking forward as Hutch pulled back, loving all those noises that meant he was being good to his partner.

A hand gripped his prick and the motion stopped.

A cheek pressed against his back, and he felt the other's sweat-damp skin. The hand squeezed him. "Outer space," his partner whispered softly. "Want to get there at the same time?"

Starsky could only gasp, for a thumb was rubbing at the head of his penis.

There was shifting, stretching...and then another hand squeezed his balls. "Tell me how to get you there."

The hand on his shaft went away. There was the sound of spitting, and when the hand returned it was enticingly moist.

The hand stroked him. "Like this?"

As intimate as they'd been with each other the past week, they really hadn't played with each other's pricks much. Starsky flexed his ass muscles, wishing the thickness would move again, but knowing that Hutch was trying not to come before his partner was ready.

"Don't," Hutch pleaded in a small voice.

Starsky tried to relax and concentrate on the hand. "Tighten farther up," he gasped. It stroked him, gripping just behind the crown as it moved up and off. "Good," he encouraged, his own voice small.

Lips kissed his shoulder. "How do you like your balls?" The hand fingered his scrotum.

It was funny the way Hutch said it. "Very well done."

Hutch chuckled and kissed his shoulder again. Starsky felt more droplets of sweat on his back. He knew it was awkward for Hutch, the way his partner had both hands around Starsky's waist, playing with his crotch area while keeping his prick well inside. "Light touch on my nuts," Starsky whispered. "Soft squeezes." Then, "My prick's feelin' damn good."

The hands paused a moment, and the big cylinder shifted within, as though seeking just enough friction to stay poised for takeoff.

And then the hands were back, squeezing gently at his balls, stroking firmly up the length of his prick.

In between gasps of effort, Hutch whispered, "I like fucking you."

It turned him on when Hutch said that, made him flare within the big, sturdy hand. "Hutch, I'm close to the edge. Do somethin' with that big, long prick of yours."

With his hands occupied, Hutch could only pull back a little ways, but Starsky felt it slide back an inch or so....

And gently push in.

Hands were stroking, encouraging the gathering sensations, his pouch being squeezed to add a lingering effect.

Hutch moved again, slowly backing out. The lubricant was being absorbed by the heat of Starsky's body, and the resulting dryness allowed Starsky to feel the flesh move against the sides of his ass, tantalizing the muscles at the opening.

Sweat ran down his forehead. "Hutch," he gasped. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come big-time."

"Outer space, buddy," the blond reminded breathlessly. "That's where we're going."

And it was there, the peak that was such a sharp point that he could only tip over the edge.

Starsky cried out, feeling his body's response, the expulsion race down his barrel and into the gripping hand.

He shuddered through its duration...surge, surge, pause, surge....

Hands released him.

He realized, as the fuzziness set in, that Hutch was panting at his back, but there been no accompanying yell.

Starsky was going to say something, but then his hips were grabbed and Hutch's prick drove farther up his ass. He was unprepared and he collapsed forward from the force, his legs flattening against the bed and no longer supporting his hips. Hutch's prick almost slipped out, but Hutch followed just in time and pounced on top of him. Starsky's shoulders were grabbed with desperate fingers, and the long body slammed against his unsupported rear, driving him down to the mattress.

He didn't have time to be sorry he was in the wrong position to meet the thrusts. The weight slammed down on top of him once again--all of Hutch's weight--and the wind was knocked out of him.

The grip on his shoulders tightened, the hips stilled...and then there was only silence.

It wasn't until a long moment later that the silence was broken by the sound of a deeply expelled breath.

His shoulders were released. There was a moment of shifting on top of him, and then the fullness--which wasn't so full anymore--left him.

"You came?" Starsky asked in puzzlement.

He now recognized the sound of soft panting. Hutch had moved most of his weight to one side, but his head was resting against his partner's shoulder blade.

The whispered response was breathless. "Of course, I came."

"Didn't hear nothin'. Didn't feel nothin'."

There was amusement in the other's response. "I'm not always a screamer." Starsky's chin was touched and turned toward Hutch. Lips kissed him gently, and he was aware more than usual of the brusque hairs of Hutch's moustache. Then he was released. "When it's the most incredible is when I want to enjoy it more...privately, I guess."

That made Starsky feel good. But..."Just expected to feel your hot sperm."

Hutch shifted again, sitting up. "That's only in the porno books."

"Oh." Then, "How do you know?"

"Because I didn't feel it when you came inside me. Think about it, goofball. Our body temperatures are the same. The temperature of sperm isn't any hotter than the rest of us. Besides, it doesn't feel hot when it shoots out of you, does it?"

"No." Starsky wondered why they'd started this conversation.

"Then it's not going to feel hotter to another human body."

Starsky rolled over onto his back and relented, "All right, blond genius." He restrained a groan. The muscles in his groin area were very stiff and sore. And despite all the lubrication and foreplay, his asshole felt tender. "Why don't you turn on the lamp?"

The mattress shifted, then light appeared next to the bed.

Starsky blinked to adjust to the brightness. The sight that came into focus was so beautiful. Hutch's hair was all mussed and his mustache all scruffy, and his eyes all bright and shiny, and his skin all pale, and his face all soft. He reached out. "Did you like it, Hutch?"

The other moved closer, taking his hand. "You kidding?"

"I'd had so long to think about it, fantasize about it. You had a lot more expectations than I did."

Hutch stretched out alongside him. His hand rested on Starsky's chest and his eyes were tender. "The only expectation I had was that we love each other. Everything else has been icing."

"Ah, ya big softie." Starsky ran a finger along the hairy lip.

"What about you?" Hutch asked, his expression more serious. "Did you think about those Creeps at all?"

Starsky's eyes widened. It had never occurred to him that Hutch might think.... "Oh man, no. I haven't thought about them for...well, it seems like a long time."

"Not even when I had you pinned down just now?"

Starsky was appalled. "That's what was going through your mind?"

Hutch looked away bashfully. "Not till afterwards," he admitted.

"Hutch, The Creeps are gone. They have no hold whatsoever on our love for each other, or our ability to show it."

Hutch shrugged. "Never know when some memory from your subconscious might flare up."

"If that happens, we'll deal with it then." Starsky took a deep breath, anxious to move away from the subject. He grinned. "How you doin'?"

Hutch grinned back. "Feel like a million bucks."

Starsky let the warm feeling make its way through his system. Then he said, "You know, this is weird."

"What is?"

"We gotta get our lives back on track."

Hutch frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Hutch, we've been in bed together almost every night the past two weeks. Like, right after work until it's time to sleep. All we do is work and love."

The blond's face was so soft. "So?"

"Well...if we never go to the grocery store, we can't eat. If we never turn on the television or the radio, we won't know how the Lakers are doing. If don't ever go to the bank, we can't cash our paychecks. If we don't ever pay our bills, we'll be evicted and the utilities will be cut off."

Hutch made a noise of amusement, then bent his head. His mouth landed in the vicinity of Starsky's left nipple. He tongued at it, and it hardened appreciatively.

Starsky put his arm around the other's head. Damn that tongue. So much extra special pleasure they'd given each other in recent times, and so much of each other they still had yet to explore.

Hutch stopped licking and went limp, his cheek resting comfortably against Starsky's chest.

Starsky giggled and petted along the golden strands of hair.

"I'm exhausted," Hutch admitted.

"So 'm I. I think we both need some big-time sleep. But we need to shower first because we're both in disgusting shape."

"If we're disgusting together it doesn't matter if we shower or not."

"Yeah, well, think about where your hands and your prick have been and maybe you'll change your mind." Starsky dislodged the blond head so he could get into a partial sitting position. "Plus, that goop is all over everything."

"It's always all over everything. Never bothered you before." Hutch was curled in a ball, his cheek against the mattress.

"Well, we've got quite a few days' accumulation. Why don't you get your ass up and I'll change the bed while you shower."

Hutch closed his eyes.

Starsky swatted him on the rear. "Go on!"

"Tyrant," Hutch muttered. He rolled to the edge of the bed, and then got up. "This isn't even your apartment."

"Yeah, well, now they're both our apartments. Get used to it."

Hutch marched off the bathroom, muttering, "The honeymoon's already over."

Starsky realized he was grinning as he placed the bedspread on top of clean sheets and blankets. Him and Hutch. Honeymooners. He supposed that might be an accurate term for the two weeks. Just work and love. Both with Hutch.

Hutch returned with a towel around his waist. He dropped it to slip into some briefs, and then got beneath the covers.

Starsky straddled him on top of the blankets. "Mmm. You look clean enough to eat." He bent for a brief kiss.

"Yeah, well now that I'm clean I consider you too filthy to sleep with. Your turn."

Starsky sighed dramatically and got to his feet. Hutch had already rolled over and closed his eyes. He knew that the blond would be asleep by the time he returned.

Demon, he thought fondly, standing there looking at the blond head that was turned away. And a gorgeous one, at that.

Starsky picked up the towel Hutch had left and headed for the shower.

The End

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