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Starsky watched from the corner of the gas station. It was about seven o'clock at night, and a blue Ford Pinto had just pulled up at the full service pump. A man matching the description of Parker Green got out. "Fill it up and check the oil," he told the attendant.
When the attendant rubbed his nose, confirming the customer's identity, Starsky stepped out from the shadows. "Parker Green?"
The man looked up. He was about five and a half feet tall, wore thick glasses, and was dressed in the casual clothing allowed in his particular division of the LAPD. "Yes?" he asked, looking uneasily toward the direction of the call. He squinted as Starsky came closer. "Oh, Detective Starsky, isn't it?"
Starsky nodded. "That's right."
Green held out his hand. "Don't believe I've ever had the pleasure. But I know who you are, of course."
"Of course," Starsky said levelly, pointedly ignoring the hand.
Green slowly put his hand down. Warily, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
Starsky allowed a tight smile. "I'm glad you're being so cooperative, Mr. Green. It should make everything much easier. Why don't we take a little walk and I'll explain exactly what I need you to do for me."
The man licked his lips and glanced hopefully at the gas station attendant, who was looking under the hood.
Starsky shook his head. "He's been paid to be dumb, deaf, and blind." He let that sink in while Green's eyes widened.
Green spun on his heel and ran toward the other end of the building.
Hutch appeared from around the opposite corner. Green collided into him.
Enjoying the contrast in height of the two men, Starsky watched while Hutch grabbed Green by the collar and took him around to the side of the building. Starsky followed, sparing a nod to thank the attendant for his help.
Hutch had Green by the shirt, and was restraining him with an arm across his throat.
"What do you guys want?" the man asked in a high-pitched voice, fearful eyes on the menacing expression of the blond who held him.
Starsky kept his voice friendly and casual, while also moving close enough to smell the other man's sweat. "Just what you've already agreed to give: your cooperation. See, everything will be easier on me, my partner here, you, Captain Dobey, and the taxpayers who pay all our salaries, if we keep it nice and simple."
"What are you talking about?" Green's eyes were now on Starsky, as though grateful to be able to look anywhere else but at the silent hatred radiating from Hutch.
Starsky rocked on his toes. "Now, Mr. Green," he laughed softly, "it's only going to make matters worse for you if you insist on playing an I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about routine. See, it's taken a long time before anyone was able to find out who was behind sending Hutch and I on our little unauthorized vacations a few months ago. But now we know. And Hutch and me - well - I admit we've sort of fantasized about, discussed - you know," he shrugged casually, "what we would do to the person when we found out. But, the truth is, we've also found out something else at the same time. And that's what your whole motivation was behind your little flawed scenario."
Starsky sighed with exaggerated patience and leaned his arm against the brick of the building, letting his weight rest against it. His shirt almost touched Green's arm. "See, Mr. Green, Hutch and I understand about partners and partnerships." He nodded his head, encouraging the other to follow his line of reasoning. "And we can understand sorta flyin' off the deep end when your partner is killed. And we can understand wanting to get revenge for it." Starsky sighed again, forlornly this time, scratching his head. "But, see, we've read all the reports of how your partner got killed. And it's clear as day to us that the only person responsible for Lt. Gibson's death was.... you."
Green's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. "No. No. No, it wasn't like that. It was the way Dobey insisted we go in. He's the one who set up the approach for that bust when Gibson got killed."
Hutch came alive and jerked Green forward by the shirt, then slammed him back against the brick. His nose was an inch from the other man's face. "Your cowardice killed your partner," he insisted, anger seething from his voice, hot breath drifting over Green and then to Starsky. "You pathetic little weasel. Your partner needed you and you hesitated when those two-bit clowns raised their guns. Don't you understand, you worthless excuse for a scumbag, that it was only IA's compassion," Hutch spat, "for what you'd been through that kept them from hanging you out to dry?"
Green whimpered, "No, that's not - "
"And you made a big, big mistake," Hutch said, breathing harder, "when you decided to use me and my partner in your little revenge scheme." His fist tightened on Green's shirt, his face now just a bare quarter inch from Green's. "When I found my partner, he was chained to a wall in a little room full of shit. You'd better give me a damn good reason, right now, why I shouldn't tear you apart, piece by piece, to take my own revenge for that."
"I-I never meant for any of that to happen!" Green screeched. "I didn't know how the guard was treating him. No one was supposed to get hurt."
Starsky shook his head. "Doesn't wash. See, me and Hutch know all about how the whole point of kidnapping us and keeping us separate from each other was so your little merry men could convince each of us that the other was dead." He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Tsk, tsk. You tryin' to tell us that wasn't supposed to hurt?"
"I-I-It was only supposed to be for a short time. I was going to let you both go."
"Hmm," Starsky mused thoughtfully. "Well, I have to tell ya, Mr. Green, that the time I spent in that filthy little room, thinking my partner dead.... Well, I'm sure you can understand that it didn't seem like a very 'short' amount of time to me."
Green's voice was helpless now, defeated. "I didn't intend to hurt either of you. Honest I didn't. I just wanted to get back at Dobey for Gibson." He looked hopefully from one to the other. "You're both all right now... right?"
Starsky released a heavy sigh, straightening. He moved closer to the man, so that between him and Hutch, Green couldn't draw a single breath of fresh air. "Let me explain something to you, Mr. Green, because I don't think you're getting the seriousness of your situation. See, my car is parked two blocks from here. I'm gonna turn my back and take a little walk to my car. I'm gonna walk real slow, Mr. Green. And once I turn my back, what Detective Hutchinson chooses to do with you is none of my business."
The man's eyes widened fearfully, not looking at Hutch. "What do you want from me?"
"Like I told you before," Starsky said as though speaking to a child. "Your full cooperation. That means that we drive you down to the station, and in a little room with me and Hutch and Captain Dobey and a stenographer, you tell us the full story of your little scheme. You name all the names of those who have assisted you. And you face Captain Dobey and tell him what a lower-than-slime creep you are for getting your partner killed and what a coward you are for having blamed someone else all these years. And how you deserve to go to prison for all the trouble you've caused." Starsky paused. "That's what you're going to do when we take you to the station."
The man's jaw quivered and he was sweating.
"But in the meantime," Starsky paused dramatically, "it's real important to Hutch and me that you understand - deep down inside yourself - just exactly what your little plan put us through. And, you know," he leaned even closer, "it really sorta bothers Hutch and me that we have to stoop to being involved with a two-bit cowardly creep like you." He shook his head. "We don't like that. You're small potatoes, Green. We don't like spending our time on small potatoes when there's a lot more bigger fish out there that we could be spending our time capturing."
Green's eyes were only on Starsky, as Hutch hadn't relaxed his hold in the slightest. "What do you want me to do?"
"Like I said," Starsky's tone made it obvious it was a struggle to be patient, "we want a full confession."
Green stared at him, breathing heavily.
The lack of an immediate reply was irritating. Starsky looked up at his partner. "He's all yours."
Green's knees gave way. "NO! NO! All right, all right!" Hutch was holding him up by the shirt.
Starsky gave up the pretense of congeniality. "Stand up, asshole."
The man was shaking violently. "All right, all right."
Starsky's eyes pinned him. "All right what?"
"Th-that I did the whole thing. I set you guys up - the kidnapping, everything, to get back at Dobey. Hired the guys to do it."
Starsky brought his face close again. "All right. We've got that part settled. Now. Here's the other thing we need you to do. See, despite everything Hutch and I have found out about your little revenge scheme, there's still one question we need you to answer for us. We'd better get the right answer, Mr. Green. The truth. Because nobody's gonna give a rat's ass if you turn up in a ditch somewhere tomorrow. Understand?"
Green was shaking so badly that he appeared to be on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
Starsky lowered his voice. "And we don't even care if you include it in your confession. We just want this for us. Now, Mr. Green, explain to us why it is that when your whole purpose was to get back at Dobey, you thought it was necessary for Hutch and me to think each other was dead. That didn't have anything to do with Dobey. That was something you intentionally wanted to do to Hutch and me. And we have a right to know why."
Hutch shifted to plant his arm against Green's collarbone. His other hand came up and grabbed the shorter man's chin, gripping it tight in a warning.
Slurring through his pinched mouth, Green whimpered, "I was jealous."
"Jealous?" Starsky asked with feigned interest.
"You guys were tight," Green forced out. "Gibson was a good cop - the best. I wanted to be tight with him. And when he died," his voice choked, "it hurt so much. Wasn't fair that you two should take so many chances, make so many big arrests, make the papers all the time, and still be alive."
"And you think," Starsky pressed, "that Ron Gibson would approve of you trying to make Hutch and me pay for your shortcomings as a partner?"
Green shook his head. He was sinking again, sinking to his knees, muttering, "No. No, he wouldn't." He began sobbing, "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Hutch released his hold and stepped back. He looked at Starsky with tired eyes.
Starsky sighed and nudged his partner on the arm. It was a victory of sorts. "I'll get the car."
Starsky walked away, leaving Green sobbing in a heap on the ground, Hutch standing guard. It was going to be a long night, since they would need to be in the room for Green's confession. And then they would have to deal with Dobey's feelings about being part of the cause of what had happened to them.
Of course, since they had planned to grab Green tonight, Starsky had thought ahead and made provisions during the day. He and Hutch had taken an extra long lunch hour in the middle of the day. On their way to his apartment, Starsky had told Hutch what was going to happen once they got there. And he'd kept talking about it - what Starsky was going to do to Hutch, how it was going to feel to Hutch - until they were both ready to explode the moment they were inside the door. But Starsky made Hutch undress and sit on the edge of the bed. And then he'd knelt before him and taken that beautiful thickness into his mouth. Loved it and sucked on it until it sent its relief down his throat. And then he'd told Hutch to turn over. He'd greased both of them up, spent time opening Hutch with his fingers, and then taken his own satisfaction.
Tonight, when they finally got home, there would be only sleep.
* * *
It was past eleven o'clock when Dobey sat down heavily in the nearly-empty squadroom. "Can't believe it," he finally muttered.
Starsky sat on the table facing their superior, while Hutch sat in a chair between his partner and his captain.
Dobey sighed and folded his hands. "Don't even remember questioning the procedure when Ron Gibson was killed."
Gently, Hutch said, "That's because there was nothing to question. Parker Green was the one who got Gibson killed."
"We've been over all the reports on the incident," Starsky put in. "There's no question that it was Green's hesitation to fire at those punks that caused Gibson to get shot." He shrugged. "It's possible Gibson may have been shot, anyway. And IA looked into it, of course, but there was a lot of sympathy for Green and, you know, he never really was cut out for work on the streets. That's why he's fit in so well down in the charity division."
Dobey sighed again. "Yeah, I remember all of that. IA asking me if Green was cut out to be a cop. I didn't think he was."
All were silent for a long moment.
Then Starsky reached to clasp his partner's hand. "Captain." He waited until their superior raised his eyes. "Hutch and me are okay. Really. We've put this whole thing behind us."
"That's right, Captain," Hutch said. "Green is the only one to blame for this whole thing. Now he's finally able to admit that to himself."
Dobey nodded slightly, and Starsky knew that was as much emotion as they were going to get. Then the black man said, "Good job, you two."
Hutch said, "Huggy deserves a lot of the credit," as Starsky released his hand. Then he grinned as he met his superior's eye. "But most of it goes to you."
"That's right, Cap'n," Starsky piped in. "Now, hopefully, life can get back to normal again."
Dobey merely grunted.
* * *
Starsky was on top of Hutch in the early evening, kissing him leisurely while both were lying on the bed, still clothed. Enjoying the special closeness that only this act provided. It had been five days since Green's confession.
In total, it had been eight days since they'd left the hotel in Long Beach. Eight days of Starsky dictating when Hutch could and could not speak, who was going to do what to whom, and when. How the pleasure was going to take place. In the squadroom and around other people, they behaved the same as always. They slipped in and out of their private and professional lives easily. Except... both had taken to wearing jackets or shirts that covered their groins. Because the constant anticipation of what lay ahead kept both of them aroused a good part of the time.
Despite his bravado in Long Beach, Starsky hadn't quite been able to see that they coupled every twelve hours. But he'd come as close as he could, including stealing moments for them during work hours. That was always the most arousing. Driving Hutch around, trying to figure out where he could stop and demand special favors - or give them. Knowing that Hutch was aroused just from wondering when they would next stop, and what was going to happen then. And as their shift drew to a close, the blond getting more and more restless, wondering what activities were going to dominate the evening before they succumbed to exhausted slumber.
The interlude Starsky was most proud of, however, wasn't the usual fucking or sucking. He'd stopped by an abandoned shack one afternoon. Of course, Hutch had a hard-on a good part of the time, because he never knew when Starsky was going to make use of him. Starsky told him so little of his plans. Once inside that shack, with the sun shining through the cracks in the wood, Starsky told Hutch to unbutton his shirt. And Hutch had. Starsky had parted the flaps and spent the next fifteen minutes working on Hutch's nipples. He had been fascinated by them from the start, and he knew Hutch liked attention there. They just weren't as blatantly sensitive as other parts. But he suspected they had a lot more potential as an erotic area, if he could just figure out how they liked best to be stimulated. So, he'd spent all his time there that afternoon, slowly tasting, pinching with teeth or fingers, testing sensations. And, while doing so, he'd been able to pet up and down Hutch's back. Tenderly loving him. Of course, Hutch had gotten all hot and bothered. And Starsky had ordered him back to the car, without providing relief, for they had some witnesses to question and fifteen minutes was all the time they could spare.
But he'd made up for it, of course. As soon as they were home, he'd undressed and greased him and Hutch both and demanded, "Fuck me." It was his favorite command of all. For Hutch seemed to enjoy it so much and Starsky was nuts about that thick cock. He always came when Hutch fucked him, for it so intensely stimulated him. Hutch fit perfectly inside his ass, after all; at least, once he was up inside him. It still hurt a little when Hutch first entered him each time.
He knew he hurt Hutch even more when he did the fucking. But it was getting better. At first, he'd watched closely for signs that Hutch might not want it. That Hutch was being merely obedient. But he'd found none. And once Starsky gave time for the pain to ease and started pumping, Hutch made those blissful little noises that proved how good it was feeling. But he never came. Of course, he never stroked himself; probably because Starsky hadn't told him to. Maybe he needed to tell Hutch to play with himself next time. Or maybe he needed to take that prick in his own hand while he was fucking him. Granted, he hadn't in the past because he'd been so selfishly involved in his own pleasure. That was the fun of being in charge.
Being obedient had been good for Hutch also. Starsky's original intent had only been to get them past the first time without a lot of emotional shackles. Show Hutch how much he wanted it by demanding all that had happened, so Hutch wouldn't feel burdened to do right, in his view, by Starsky. Remind Hutch over and over again how big his flesh was, so that when Starsky parted him with it, Hutch would be psychologically ready to feel the vindicating pain he needed, despite all of the careful preparation ahead of time. And it hadn't all been mental. Hutch had been bleeding afterwards, but not seriously. Still, Starsky had felt an overwhelming desire to pamper Hutch and take care of him - so much so that it hadn't been until he was in the elevator that he realized he'd left the room without even saying anything. When he'd returned with the first aid kit, he'd been surprised that Hutch hadn't moved from where he'd been positioned on the bed for fucking. And he obviously wasn't going to move until Starsky told him to.
Yes, Hutch responded well to obedience when it was demanded of him. That discovery had gotten Starsky to thinking. And, as a result of his thoughts, he'd carried on their own little modified version of a master/slave routine for a lot longer than he'd ever intended. At times, he wondered if he was carrying it too far, but then he would remind himself that all Hutch had to do was say "No", or refuse to obey Starsky's verbal commands. Or simply say, "I don't want to play this game anymore." The fact that the blond never did was very telling.
But being in charge was also becoming a burden for Starsky, since he had to constantly dream up new, fun, erotic things for them to do. He was looking forward to returning to how it used to be, when Hutch acted bossy most of the time -- as though he were in charge of their partnership, even when he really wasn't. Starsky had always played along, because something about Hutch seemed to need the security of thinking he was the boss. And the blond seemed to have a strong need to say "No" whenever Starsky asked him for anything. After all, Hutch was a master at saying "No". Let's buy a house as an investment and fix it up. No. I have to piss, so stop by a gas station. No. Get me two cheeseburgers and fries. No.
Of course, even though he always said "No", Hutch always ended up doing what Starsky wanted. But with Starsky in charge, and Hutch not being allowed to talk a good part of the time, that "No" stuff had been effectively ended. And now Hutch seemed to outright relish having his need for saying "No" removed. Starsky didn't give him a choice in the matter.
A complex person, his Hutch.
Starsky kissed Hutch again, pressing their lips together, enjoying the "mmm" noise coming from them both. He wondered how tonight's loving might be different if the game was over. He knew, of course, that there was going to be some point in the future when they would both look back and shake their heads and laugh at how obsessed they'd been with fucking. But now, while the obsession with carnal pleasure was so intense and so mutual, he intended to enjoy every blessed second of it.
Starsky pulled back, but kept his face close to the soft, sleepy one beneath him. "Hey."
Hutch blinked, waiting for the next order.
My beautiful, obedient Hutch. I hope I'm not going to be sorry....
Starsky ran his finger along those generous, so soft lips. "I think you've had enough of a break, you big beautiful blondie. As of this moment, I'm not in charge anymore."
Hutch blinked again.
Starsky kissed him. Let's fuck. Mutually. Where we're both allowed to speak whatever's on our minds. God, I'm hard just thinking about it....
Of course, being hard had been a fact of life the past eight days, no matter what the circumstances. Starsky had just plain stopped worrying about whether anybody noticed. He was having too much fun. And he knew Hutch hadn't worried because none of it was his responsibility.
The only worry that crossed his mind on occasion was that both their peckers might shrivel up and die from being so over-worked and tormented.
He ground against Hutch. See what I have for you?
"Move aside." Hutch's hands were on his shoulders, pushing.
"Don't speak." Firm. "You aren't allowed to talk unless I say so."
Oh, Jesus. Don't tell me he's going to start in like this. I didn't mean for him to think that now he's supposed to act the way I've been acting. Starsky grinned inwardly. Okay, wait a minute. Indulge him. This could be fun. He moved aside.
Hutch got up. "Get undressed from the waist down."
Starsky started to obey, snickering inside. Wants me to keep my shirt on. Wonder why.
Hutch was watching him with a firm jaw.
How could he have dreamed this up so fast? He didn't know I was going to forfeit control. Unless this is something he's been thinking about...?
Rebellious devil. He wasn't supposed to be thinking these past days. Just reacting. Obediently.
His dick hardened as he removed his pants and underwear. He pulled off his socks and looked up.
Hutch's voice was unusually thick. "Turn around and get on your knees and stick your ass up into the air, with your legs together."
Legs together? That's a new one. Starsky swung around, butt to Hutch, and lowered his upper body to the bed, resting his cheek against the mattress. His legs felt funny, with his thighs pressed together. He giggled inwardly. Maybe he's sick of looking at my asshole, he's seen so much of it. Maybe he'd rather admire my butt instead. I've got a nice-looking butt, don't I, Hutch? He wriggled it suggestively. "DON'T MOVE!"
Shit. He sounds mad. What's wrong with you, Hutch? What are you going to do to me with my butt in the air and my legs together?
Quiet now. "Pull your shirttail down over your ass."
Huh? You're weird, Hutch. Starsky reached up and pulled at his shirttail. It draped halfway down his butt. Is it the curtain effect that you're after? He was starting to feel uneasy, not knowing what Hutch was going to do.
Behind him, Hutch opened a drawer. Then slammed it shut. Starsky heard another drawer opening.
What's he looking for? He knows where the K-Y is.
"Here it is." Soft, satisfied laugh.
Here what is? What's going on? There was a weird noise. Rubber banging against wood, rhythmically. Hutch appeared in front of him, holding a paddle with a ball attached with a rubber band. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Starsky smiled nostalgically. Hey, I used to have one of those. I once hit that ball 232 times without a miss.
Abruptly, it stopped. Hutch took the ball and string and ripped them from the paddle. Sheesh. Take it easy, Hutch. Hutch held the paddle in front of him. His voice was very firm. "Do you know what this is? You're allowed two words."
What kinda stupid question is that? "A paddle."
A satisfied nod. "Good. What are paddles used for? One word."
Hitting the rubber ball, stupid. No, wait, only one word. Oh, I got it. "Paddling."
A glint in those crystal blue eyes. A very satisfied glint. Soft, seductive voice. "Very, very good."
Huh? Oh.... wait. WAIT. He can't mean....
A grin overtook Hutch's face, softening it like a Chesire cat's. "I see that you understand now."
Huh???? Hutch, no. No way. You can't mean what I think you mean. Uh-uh, no way. No way in hell, Hutch.
More casual now. "Buddy, the list of offenses against you is staggering."
Staggering? What the hell? What offenses? Come on, Hutch. You enjoyed all that stuff as much as I did. What did I ask you to do that you didn't enjoy? Well... maybe having you stare at my crotch in public was a bit much. And telling that clerk you were paying a religious penance -- thought that was pretty clever of me, actually - and that ice in your lap was only because I was genuinely concerned about how over-heated you were.
Hutch rubbed his hand slowly against the surface of the paddle. "This wood feels hard. Strong."
Starsky drew a deep breath. You aren't really gonna paddle me with that thing. Come on, Hutch, cut it out. I never would have played these stupid games if I woulda thought you were gonna retaliate. Starsky's brow furrowed. There was no way Hutch had dreamed this up just now. How long has he wanted to do this?
He didn't want to know the answer. Because that meant Hutch thought he'd been bad. No way had he been bad. He'd been having way too much fun to be bad. Hutch had had fun, too.
Hutch was still rubbing the paddle. Reverently. "The reason this is going to take a long time," he explained slowly, "is because I haven't figured out yet how many strokes will be an appropriate punishment."
Punishment? Come on, Hutch, you're making me feel like a little kid. It wasn't that bad walking around in public with your eyes on my crotch, was it? Or are you mad at me for not giving you the full thirty minutes for your ass lick? Those eighteen minutes were all you could handle, anyway. And it was your own fault for being disobedient. Sheesh. I'm just now realizing how disobedient you've been. Dreaming all this stuff up while you were only supposed to be attentive to obeying me.
He was defiant now. You just wait, Hutch. Wait until I'm back in charge again. Boy, are you ever going to get it for even thinking that you're going to use that paddle on me.
Hutch grunted with amusement. His fingertips were still worshipping the wood. His voice was soft, even though he was pretending to be angry. "I know you think you don't deserve this. And you're figuring out how you're going to get back at me for it. But, Starsky, you don't have a clue about the Hutchinson stamina. It's going to be a long, long time before you're in charge again."
Oh, shit, what had he done? He should have never turned power back over to Hutch. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Because he'd spent too much time fucking, that's why. He hadn't paid attention and hadn't realized Hutch had blown a gasket.
Hutch stepped a few feet away, looking very thoughtful, the paddle rubbing against his chin. "While I'm thinking about how many whacks you deserve - "
WHACKS? Dammit, that sounds like it's gonna hurt.
"—I'll need something to do with my hands. I don't like my hands to be idle."
Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
"So, I think I'll put some lubricant on my middle finger and insert it into your asshole. And move it in and out and rotate it around--"
Starsky grinned inwardly. Ah, Hutch, you sound so weird, using crude words like that. You're not used to speaking this stuff out loud. He restrained an affectionate giggle.
"—and every time you move, I'm going to add two whacks to your total."
HUH?? Hutch, godammit, that's not fair. You know I can't hold still when you're working your finger inside my ass.
Starsky felt a sense of doom. His ass was going to get paddled good. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And, shit, it was going to hurt.
Hutch nodded with satisfaction. "I see you realize the error of your ways. You know you deserve this."
I do NOT. He glared at Hutch. Accepting the fact that this is gonna happen has NOTHING to do with admitting guilt.
A chuckle now. "You ought to see yourself in a mirror. You look all angry and indignant, and your cock's so hard it's practically ready to explode."
Godammit. Get down, Brutus. Down, boy. He thinks I'm enjoying this because you're so hard. Shit. How can he think that I'm gonna enjoy real, honest-to-God pain?
Starsky inhaled deeply, realizing he'd forgotten to breathe a long time ago. He's enjoying this way too much. Goddamn him. He's going to enjoy the fact that it's gonna hurt. Since when are you a sadist, Hutch? I don't think I like that about you.
But that possibility brought forth a hopeful thought. He'll paddle me and my ass will get all red, and he'll get all turned on and fuck me clear through to the other side of the earth. Exhalation of relief. And that'll be the end of it. Maybe I'll even still have some skin left.
"I know what you're thinking."
Yeah, so what?
Hutch was toying with the wood of the paddle again, fingers tapping against it. Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum. "You're thinking that I'll get so turned on while straightening you out that I'll fuck you and exhaust myself." Voice firming. "You apparently weren't listening when I told you about the Hutchinson stamina."
"After I drain my balls by fucking your red, blistered ass -"
"— clear through to the center of the earth, I'm going to go right back to disciplining you for all your insolence. It's not going to end until you've had the full number of whacks I've decided is appropriate."
Jesus. He was doomed. How could Hutch hurt him like that?
Hutch was looking down at him, thinking. Then he said, "I don't think your discipline is going to mean as much if your attention isn't on it one hundred percent." He nodded toward the area between Starsky's legs.
Oh, Jesus God, he's gonna make me come. You're beautiful, Hutch.
"Keep your legs together." Hutch disappeared behind him.
Legs together? How the hell am I supposed to enjoy it with my legs together?
Hutch reached around him, fondled his balls....
Oh, yes.... For some reason, he'd never had Hutch play with his balls much. Big mistake. It took a tremendous effort to not move his legs apart.
Another hand took hold of the thickness between his legs.
Special pressure on the crown.
Oh, man... oh, man
Fingers releasing his balls to stroke the smooth area between his sac and his asshole. Pressing....
Any second now. Damn, he's good....
Squeezing the area behind the head.
My dick's in love with your hand, Blondie. Trying so hard not to part his legs....
Ohhhh, Jesus, God....
Tingle running through his lower body, rushing out of his prick. Hutch milking it so perfect, the cum getting all over his hand.
Jesus, God, that feels good. Big, airy sigh. Oh, dear God, that was beautiful. Ah, man. He swallowed and opened his eyes, so relieved that he was nicely drained.
He'd been a good boy. Didn't spread his legs, even when it seemed so natural to do so. And his ass had remained in the correct position for his paddling, his shirttail still draped across it.
"My hand needs cleaning."
It was in front of Starsky's eyes, Hutch holding it up from behind him. Yes. There wasn't a lot of fluid, because they fucked so much that their balls stayed drained. But enough to make it worthwhile.
Starsky got to work. See how good I am? Lick, lick. I can be so good if you'd just explain to me what you want. Paddling isn't necessary to keep me in line.
"Pay special attention to the middle finger. That's the finger I'll put inside your ass while I decide how many whacks with the paddle are necessary."
Oh, yes, the middle finger needed special attention. Starsky licked it with long strokes of his tongue, eagerly worshipping it. That finger had been so good to him whenever he'd told Hutch to put it up inside him. Amazing, considering how satisfying Hutch's thick cock was, that that one little narrow finger was so talented. Hutch could move it in incredible ways up inside him.
There. Your hand's all clean, Hutch. See what I good boy I am? I don't need that wooden paddle cracked across my ass. Honest. I'll do anything you want, if you just tell me.
The hand went away. "Close your eyes."
Oh, no. Starsky closed his eyes, heart beating frantically in his chest, wondering what Hutch was going to do. Please put that finger up my ass. You said you would.
Smooth wood rubbed against Starsky's lower right buttock.
Oh, Jesus. That wood is really hard.
"Of course," Hutch pointed out, "the number of whacks is probably going to be somewhere in the hundreds."
HUNDREDS??? Oh, God. Oh, God, no. Hutch couldn't be serious. Couldn't possibly be serious. What person on earth deserved that many whacks? Not even Charles Manson deserved that many....
"It's just a matter of exactly how many I decide. And if you move an inch while I'm deciding, I'll add more."
Starsky could scarcely get his breath. He was doomed all right. No way was his ass going to survive getting hit that many times with a hard wooden paddle. And it was going to hurt like the dickens....
Hutch, you're sick. You're totally sick. I can't believe I've missed how sick you are.
The wood moved in a big circle over his butt cheek, creeping up beneath his shirt.
Starsky could scarcely breathe.
"I see that you finally realize this is no laughing matter."
Shit, you're damn right it's no laughing matter. You're going to damage my ass, Hutch. That isn't funny. And I'm gonna be screaming from pain instead of pleasure. That's not funny, either. What's wrong with you? Starsky was panting. Was it possible that there was some magical way that hard wooden paddle wouldn't hurt? Hutch wasn't going to really hurt him... was he?
The hard paddle moved toward his ass crack... turned... the wood slowly slid down the seam, past his defenseless asshole and then to his even more defenseless balls.
He shivered. Man, that wood is stiff. Gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.
The paddle turned again so that it was flat. The lip moved up underneath his scrotum, then picked up his balls.
Oh, Jesus God. His legs were quivering. Goddammit, Hutch, you'd better not do anything to my balls. That would really hurt. See: my prick's shrunk with fear. I'm not enjoying this one damn bit.
A slyness in the blond's voice. "I'd say it's who-do-we-trust-time, eh, partner?"
Heavy breath. Keep breathing. There had to be a way out of this. Yeah, Hutch, I trust you, Starsky thought defiantly, but one accidental move of that paddle, and my balls could be sliced off. Just remember that if I lose my balls, it'll hurt you as much as me.
Abruptly, his nuts were released.
Oh thank you, dear God in heaven. He panted heavily, dizzy with relief. God, I swear, I'll go to services every Sabbath if you find a way to get me out of this. I don't want that hard wooden paddle cracked over my ass hundreds of times. He felt a long bead of sweat drop down the side of his forehead.
Something on his ass again... Hutch's hand. Thank you, God. Moving slowly along his skin. Up underneath his shirt. Such a light, deliberate touch.
Oh, no. He's getting me ready. Getting my ass ultra sensitized so it hurts all the more when he hits me with that paddle. Hutch, I can't believe you're going through with this. But you're really going to hit me, aren't you? Goddammit, I didn't know I'd married a sadist. Somewhere along the line, I should have asked you first if you were a sadist.
His brow furrowed, his eyes still closed. Maybe that's one of the "offenses"? I married him without asking if he was the least bit interested? But that shouldn't upset him. Dammit, Hutch, I did you a big favor by not giving you a chance to say No. Because it woulda taken us months to get around to it, because you would have found all sorts of stupid excuses not to be happy.
Unfortunately, he thought with doom, I didn't consider myself. I didn't consider how raw my ass was going to be by marrying someone I didn't know got turned on by this sort of thing.
The hand was still moving, so slowly, over his butt. For God's sakes, Hutch, you're enjoying this way too much. I don't like you enjoying this. And don't you dare hit me with that hard wooden paddle. I can't promise I'll still be obedient if you hit me even once with that thing. The game ends the minute you hit me with it. He was breathing harshly, wondering how their joyous fucking had come to this.
The hand squeezed his ass cheek, just a little. Airily, as though distracted, Hutch muttered, "So tempting to just use my hand."
Starsky's face collapsed against the mattress. Oh, God, yes, Hutch, use your hand. Please, please, use your hand. Your bare hand against my bare ass. Yes, that would be just. You know that's the right way for us. Not cracking that wooden thing over my ass. If it's preordained that I deserve a spanking, then use your hand, Hutch. Your big large hand. I'll even admit I deserve it, if you just use your hand.
Oh, dear God in heaven, I'll try to go to temple sometime to thank you for showing him there's an alternative to that hard wooden paddle. Yes, yes, he needs to paddle me with his hand.
Wait a minute. Hutch hadn't been working out as much as in years past, but he still kept in reasonable shape. Lifted weights. Those loving, protective arms of his were strong. Very strong. Especially his right arm.
Shit. My ass may still have all its skin, but, dammit, it's still going to be beet red after he spanks me hundreds of times. Stinging like crazy. Dammit, Hutch, I can handle my ass tingling a little from you spanking me, but stinging is pain. You know what a crybaby I am when it comes to pain. I'll never forgive you for doing that to me. I'll have to get back at you.
And by the way, when are you going to stick your finger up my ass? You told me you'd do it. And I'm not going to even try to hold still. I'm going to writhe all around that finger. And, remember, my bare ass gets spanked more with your bare hand if I move before the spanking starts.
A hand on each cheek now, the paddle having obviously been laid aside. Rubbing slowly down... then up... beneath the shirttail.... . Circling around.... Big wide circles.
Ah, yes, Hutch. You love the feel of my ass, dontcha? My ass is nice and round, like a cushion. Admit it, Hutch, your hands are in love with the shape and feel of my ass. That's why they can't stop feeling it. You don't want to damage that shape and feel, Hutch. I can understand that it'd be sort of a turn-on to see my bare ass a deep red from a spanking with your bare hand, but it won't feel as nice and smooth if it's stinging. You don't want to make my ass sting, Hutch. Just sorta pat at it with your hand. Hundreds of times. Then we'll both enjoy it and the nice smoothness won't even be damaged. Please, Hutch.
Hutch softly cleared his throat. "Of course," big slow circles, "if I do it with my hand, it'll be more appropriate to turn you over my knee."
Blood stormed down the center of Starsky's cock.
Over your knee? Giddiness surged through him. Oh, God, yes, Hutch. Yes! Why didn't I think of that? Yes, yes. Turn me over your knee. Please, please put me in your lap and turn me over your knee. Paddle my bare ass with your bare hand - but not too hard - and I'll writhe across your thighs. Feel your hard cock rubbing against my hard cock. My hard cock trapped between your legs, holding me still so I don't fall off your lap as I wriggle around from the (gentle) pain. Oh, Goooddddd....
I need a spanking, Hutch. You've shown me the light. I've been a bad boy and I deserve a spanking. I need to be draped across your lap and spanked. Just not too hard. Gently spank my ass, Hutch. Maybe it'll even get a little red for you. Then fuck me clear through to the other side of the earth. Hutch, my ass is so ready for you. I need to spanked a lot, to teach me to be good. My ass is tingling, it's so ready for spanking. See how good I am to you? I even know when I need to be spanked. I won't whine or protest one single bit.
He was breathing harshly, erection throbbing, as his face lay against the mattress, eyes closed. Surely, Hutch couldn't mistake the condition he was in.
"The only problem," Hutch said slowly, "with turning you over my knee and spanking you the appropriate number of times -"
Oh, Gooodddd.....My cock is in desperate need of attention.
"— is that I think you might enjoy it too much. And if you enjoy it, you'll miss the whole point of it. The point of it, Starsky, it to teach you a lesson. To teach you how to just be a tiny bit humble."
No, it won't be a problem. I promise, Hutch. I swear. If you're afraid my enjoyment means I won't learn a lesson, then just do it more than one session. Spank me once a day even. That'll be your control, Hutch. I'll know that if I'm bad, I'm going to get spanked. I mean, after a certain number of strokes, it's going to start to hurt. So, I'll never be more than just a little bad, because I'm a big baby when it comes to pain. I don't want my ass to sting. Even if it turns you on, I don't want my ass to sting.
Heavy exhalation. Hutch's voice was thick, as though he were having trouble catching his breath. "I think the wooden paddle might be a better way."
NO! Please, God, no!
The warm hands had left his nicely tingling ass. That hard wood was on his left ass cheek, rubbing around.
Oh, dear God, no.
"Sometimes," Hutch said slowly, as though measuring his words, "I think I'm too soft-hearted where you're concerned."
No, Hutch, you aren't soft at all. Not at all. You're a tyrant. A terrible, terrible tyrant. Please don't hit me with that hard wooden thing. My prick has shrunk, I'm so afraid of it.
"At the very least," the wood turned again to rake down his crack, "I think I should paddle you with this once. Just to show you what's going to happen when you're really bad. So you'll know and not ever have to wonder."
No, no, Hutch. You got it all wrong. I already know how bad it's gonna be if you hit me with that thing. See? My prick's all soft now. You don't need any further proof. Honest, babe. Put that hard wooden thing down. It has no business being anywhere near my smooth, tender butt. You don't want to hurt my ass, do you, Hutch? Just one whack with that hard wooden thing will hurt like hell. Might even damage it. Please, Hutch.
The lip of the paddle pushed a little at his asshole.
Dammit, Hutch, that thing's gonna give me splinters. You don't want to be responsible for splinters along my crack, do you? Run your tongue along my ass and come away with a mouthful of splinters. You'd look pretty damn silly. Come on, put that wicked thing away. It puts evil ideas in your head. You aren't evil, Hutch. Just a little mixed up about how I need to be spanked. Please turn me over your knee. That's the only way it can be done right.
Soft sigh. The wood went away.
Casual now. "You're transparent, Starsky."
Yeah, so what? Shut up and turn me over your knee like I deserve.
"Your cock tells me everything."
Good. I love my cock for telling you what I coward I am when it comes to that paddle.
"I'll keep this in mind when you're extremely bad. The wooden paddle is always an option, Starsky."
Heavy exhalation. Yeah, yeah, I get the point. I admit it: you can control me by threatening to use that paddle. I'm your slave, Hutch. Now, spank your slave. Show him the error of his ways.
"The only question now," Hutch was breathing very hard, "is how many strokes are appropriate."
Shit. Just spank me, Hutch. Pull down your pants, put me over your lap, and spank me until we come all over each other. What's the big deal? You need practice at this. You take too long figuring this stuff out. I never took that long with you, did I? I always knew exactly what I wanted to do with you. Even now. I know what you need to do to me more than you do. You're lousy at being in charge, Hutch. When I'm back in charge, I'm gonna get back at you for being so wishy-washy. And I'm not gonna have to think about it very hard. I know where that wooden paddle is kept, after all. I'm going to crack that thing over your ass just to get back at you for even thinking for one single second that you were going to use it on me. And no amount of pleading or begging is going to get you out of it. In fact, I know you won't even bother to plead or beg, because you'll know you have it coming. You just wait, Hutch.
Nice, big, bare hand moving up his left cheek....
Oh, God. Brutus was getting interested again.
"Open your eyes."
Starsky let out a breath and opened his eyes. Hutch stepped in front of him, still fully clothed. Of course, his jeans were tented. And Starsky was getting damn tired of being in a crouch with his legs together and his ass in the air.
Hutch grinned. "You're getting impatient."
Starsky glared at him. Hell, yes. I want my spanking, Goddammit.
Teasing softness now. "All right, my eager prince."
Prince? I'm your slave, not your prince. Spank my ass. Spank it as hard as you can. Geez, I can't believe how lousy you are at this. I'd spank it myself, if you'd let me, just so we can move on to a different game.
Hutch ran his fingers along his mustache. "Tell me how many, Starsky."
"Tell me how many times I'm going to spank you. You know how bad you've been. You know all the things you've done wrong. You know how badly you need to be taught just a small degree of humility. So, with all the things you know, you can determine better than I can just exactly how many times my hand needs to smack your ass to straighten you out."
Starsky's mouth fell open. That's not fair. When you're in charge, you're supposed to be the one taking on all the responsibility. Don't make me responsible for my own punishment, Hutch. That's... that's.... well, dammit, that's downright humiliatin'. What thirty-five-year-old man in his right mind is going to admit to deserving a spanking?
Hutch looked at his watch. "You have thirty seconds to answer."
Shit. He could say zero, and spare his pride. But then I won't get spanked at all. And then all this will have been for nothing. But I can't see admitting....
All right, dammit. Five whacks.
No, wait. It's hardly even worth being laid across his lap for just five. It might be over before I've even come.
No, wait. Hutch's arm is really strong. Especially his right one. By twenty my butt might be stinging pretty good. I don't want it to hurt.
Shit, how am I supposed to come up with a number?
All right, let's see. He wants me to come up with a number I think is fair. To teach me a lesson. When I wanted to teach him a lesson, I took twelve minutes off his ass-lick time. Not that he could have stood one second more, screaming like he was....
His prick flared. Ah, Hutch, I loved making you crazy like that.
"Time's up." Hutch put his arm down. "How many?"
Hutch's face went soft all over. He was on the bed, on his knees before Starsky. "Ah, buddy, I knew that's what you were going to say." He lifted Starsky's face close to his and kissed him. Gentle. So gentle, as their kissing always was. Then, "I love you so very, very, very much."
I love you, too. What about my spanking?
"Come on, get off your knees. Lay down here." He helped Starsky roll onto his back.
But, wait. Hutch was on top of him. Kissing him all over. Rubbing lovingly up and down Starsky's cotton-clad arms, his chest. He whispered again, "Love you so, so much."
Oh, Jesus. Was the game over? Come on, Hutch, you hafta hold up your end the bargain. My 'end' is ready and waiting.
Hutch was cradling him, rubbing all over him, up underneath the shirt.
When Starsky was in charge he'd never ordered Hutch to hold him. He supposed he shouldn't be upset with Hutch now for trying to make up for it. In fact, he felt a bit guilty. Hutch was such a touchy-feely person. His big blond needed to express love.
More than he needs to fuck. Starsky relaxed against the bed. All right, you big softie, feel me up and be tender and gentle and make me feel like I'm gonna float away.
Starsky let himself be held. Felt warm all over when Hutch lifted him into a sitting position and hugged him back and forth.
After a long moment Hutch stopped and kissed Starsky's nose, his eyes warm and soft. "I love you."
Starsky grinned. He almost said "I love you" back, but remembered he wasn't supposed to talk without being ordered.
Hutch's voice was so gentle. "Get on your knees."
Huh....? On my knees?
"On the floor. Facing the bed."
Puzzled, Starsky dropped to his knees beside the bed.
Hutch's expression was still so soft. But he was breathing roughly as he sat on the edge of the bed, in front of Starsky, jean-clad legs spread.
He bent and tenderly kissed Starsky's forehead. "I want to be thanked in advance."
Thanked? He let his puzzlement show.
"Yes." Heavy breath. "Thank me for the lesson in humility I'm going to teach you." Hutch kissed Starsky on the lips. Stroked his hair. Then both hands fought with the zipper on his fly.
Starsky listened to the sound of his own breathing. So, it's still going to happen. And he's gettin' all turned on thinking about it. He grinned inwardly. Oh, boy. Yes, Hutch, let me thank you properly for that. Thank you properly for draping me over your lap and smacking my bare ass with your bare hand. I like this game.
The zipper was finally down and the smooth erection popped free from the slit. Hutch was otherwise fully clothed.
Oh, yes, that's the most beautiful thing on this earth. I'm gonna do it so good, Hutch.
Hutch held it in his hand. "Show me how much you appreciate my efforts to teach you a lesson."
Starsky leaned forward and gobbled it down. "Mmmmmmmmmm." God, I love this thing of yours, Hutch. Love how smooth it is. How the veins stick out. Ah, man, see how good I am to it? My tongue loves running all over it.
Hutch bent over Starsky, stroking his hair so tenderly.
Mmmmm...mmm. I love this, thing, Hutch. See? I can take it down my throat. He pushed his mouth forward on it, felt it block his air. Oops. He paused and coughed. I'll get better, Hutch. He bobbed his head back and forth. Man, I love sucking you. Gonna suck the whole thing dry. Incredible, how my mouth and my ass are both made for your cock. I need this thing twice a day, Hutch. Don't you dare not let me have it twice a day.
Hutch's hand moved down to his jaw, stroking so gently.
Ah, yes, Hutch, feel my throat working you. I love your cock. I want it in my mouth all the time. I'd walk around on my knees with my mouth permanently attached to it, if you'd like. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."
Try again. Be prepared for that feeling down my throat. He pushed himself forward on it, felt the zipper of the jeans at his nose. The head pushed down into his throat.
"Oh, God." Soft cry of delight. Legs spreading wider.
Starsky coughed and released it for a moment. Shoulda taken your pants off, dummy. He went back to work along the underside of the barrel. Then sucked it in. Suck, suck, suck. Mmmmmm...mmm. His mouth vibrated around it. Tastes so good.... I deserve a good spanking for doing this to you, Hutch.
Hands on his hair. "Easy, buddy."
Easy? Why? Nevertheless, he slowed the motion of his tongue and lips.
Deep breath. Then, softly, "Listen while you're thanking me. Because I'm going to tell you how it's going to be -- "
"—and you'll want to thank me even more for my ongoing commitment to teaching you to be just a touch humble."
Ongoing? Starsky swallowed around the thick flesh without thinking and Hutch held his breath a moment. Oops, sorry. He curled his lips around his teeth. Am I going to like this, Hutch...? Or not?
Big gentle hands stroked along his face and neck. "Each day, as soon as we come home from work, your task is to take a shower, then go into the bedroom and put on a shirt -"
What is it with the shirt?
"—and get on the bed with your legs together and your ass in the air."
I don't like that position, Hutch. Reminds me of the wooden paddle.
"Make sure your shirttail is pulled down over your ass."
Jesus, you and the shirttail. This obsession of yours is making me nervous, Hutch. He much preferred sucking on this big delicious dick. Suck, suck, suck.
"You'd better be listening, Starsky." Heavy breath. Gentle voice but threatening words. "It'll make everything worse if you don't do exactly what I tell you. I still have that wooden paddle."
Okay, okay, okay. He eased up on the sucking.
"I'll come up to the room after you." That big thing flared within Starsky's mouth.
"I might not do it right away. I might read the paper first or watch the news on TV. Have a beer. I might make dinner."
While I'm on the bed with my ass in the air? You'd better not keep me waiting long, Hutch. I never did anything like that to you. Sheesh.
Rubbing Starsky's shoulder. Squeezing affectionately. "When I get around to coming into the room, I'll tell you've how many strokes I've decided you're getting. It all depends on how bad you've been that day. How irritated I am with you. It might be two. It might sixty."
"It might even be zero." Soft chuckle. "But I doubt that." Stroking his hair lovingly. "You're incapable of being that good."
I don't think I can breathe.
"Once I've announced how many strokes there's going to be, I'll decide whether to smack your ass right there, or whether I'm going to trouble with turning you over my knee or not. It depends on how much I want to be bothered with you."
BOTHERED? You aren't being very nice, Hutch.
"Either way, when it's time to apply your punishment, I'll very slowly roll up the shirttail covering your ass."
Oh, I get it.
"Slowly unveil that nice, round smoothness you want me to mar." Hutch swelled in Starsky's mouth.
Don't know that I'd put it that way.
"If you didn't want me to mar it," Hutch reminded, "you'd never do anything bad."
I know, but -
"Run my hand along that round smoothness." Hutch stopped talking for two full seconds. He was breathing heavily. "Have to get your skin all ready for what's going to happen to it. Don't want it to go numb while my hand is tending to your hide."
I've got another hard-on.
"And then the count will begin."
"I might count silently. Or I might count out loud. Or I might make you count."
"When I'm done, you'll kneel before me and thank me for teaching you another lesson."
Depends upon how sore my ass is. You'd better not hit me hard, Hutch. Oops, he'd forgotten what he was doing. He started sucking again. Hutch was awfully big right now. Don't know if I like how turned on you get thinking about spanking me.
Hands stroked his hair. "So, every night, buddy, you'll get a spanking. Promise."
Jesus God. Maybe I'd be better off if I just let him crack that wooden paddle over my ass, and be done with it. He's turned this little game into a lifetime commitment. I'm not sure I like this.
His mouth was full of spit and pre-ejaculate, since he'd been working that prick so long. But my dick is really, really hard. Maybe it likes this game a little bit. Just as long as Hutch doesn't smack me sixty times in one night. That's a bit extreme, no matter how much I've irritated him. Besides, he's not consistent with how upset he gets. If he's grumpy in the morning, and I crack a joke, sometimes he'll laugh. That'll mean I've been good. But if I crack a joke and it just makes him grumpier, well, that'll be a smack across my ass. How am I supposed to work on being good, when the definition is going to change from one day to the next?
All right, this has nothing to do with being good. And he knows it. He just wants an excuse to spank my ass. Take the wooden paddle. No telling how long he's had that thing in that drawer. Just how long has he been fantasizing about spanking me, anyway? I mean, he's been getting irritated with me on a daily basis for years.
A hand gently rubbed at his throat.
Oh, yeah, get back to work. Suck, suck, suck. Mmmmmm-mmm this is good. Hutch, you'd better not think that just because I'm being so good to your cock that I'm happy about the idea of you spanking me every goddamn day.
Still, he thought tenderly, you deserve a special favor for toying with me so cleverly tonight. Scarin' the shit outta me. Getting me all nice and hard... twice. Let's get your big thing down my throat again. He pushed forward, refusing to choke as the flaring crown tickled the back of his throat.
Hutch shuddered and cradled Starsky's head, petting frantically.
Starsky eased up, proud that he'd done that without choking. I'm getting good, aren't I, Hutch? You're real close now, buddy boy. Nice and long and thick. Gonna do it again. Hope you come....
He pushed forward, heard Hutch's cry, and had to ease off as the tangy liquid spilled onto the back of his tongue. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Suck it allllllllllll out....
After a time, he let it slip from his mouth. Hutch was sitting with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, desperately catching his breath. He cracked one eye open and looked down at Starsky.
Starsky looked back into that eye and swallowed loudly. Down my throat, Hutch. Aren't I good to you?
Hutch closed his eyes, breathed deeply. "You're incredible."
Yeah, I know.
Lazily, Hutch reached down and tucked himself back in. Zipped up his fly. He slumped onto an elbow.
That's a good boy, Hutch. You're all nice and sucked off and ready for sleep. If you're still the least bit interested in paddling me, you aren't going to bother doing it very hard.
A couple of minutes passed, then Hutch's eyes opened again. He looked at Starsky. Snorted with amusement.
"You're so transparent, Starsky."
He didn't like it when Hutch said that.
"You think you're getting out of it."
Well, not necessarily....
A short laugh. Then a wide, satisfied grin. "No way. After thanking me so nicely for what I'm going to do to you, you think I'm not going to do it at all? Uh-uh."
Starsky gulped. Loudly.
"I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this."
That sounded mean. It just proved that Hutch had been thinking about it for a long, long time. You're not very nice, Hutch.
"Awww," Hutch teased. Then, ridiculously cheerful, "Don't look like that. You sealed your fate when you told me how many strokes. You could have said none."
You holdin' it against me for not wanting to spoil your fun?? Sheesh.
"You may think you really don't want it, but," Hutch's voice dropped to a conspirational whisper, "I know, deep down inside, that you really, really do. Because you know how much you have it coming."
Starsky swallowed thickly.
Hutch sat up, yawned as though to awaken himself. Then he grinned. "This is going to be one of the most memorable nights of my life."
You're not being very nice, Hutch. What are you being so damn cheerful about, anyway?
Hutch rested back on an elbow. "Been wanting to tar your ass - "
"— ever since you blew our three thousand dollars on that godforsaken stack of rotten lumber you called a house."
"And I didn't even have a hard-on. Just wanted to paddle your ass for blowing our money like that, I was so pissed off. Of course, if I would have done it back then, I would have used a giant wooden paddle - with holes in it."
Oh, shit. This was serious. Hutch had been wanting to blister his butt back before there was even anything arousing about it. Starsky felt a deep sense of foreboding. His gut was starting to tighten.
"And, of course, that was only the beginning. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to do it since. And I didn't even get my first hard-on when thinking about it until we were in that hotel. I don't have to explain the details of that, do I?"
Now a large grin.
Ah, Hutch, you're so damn beautiful when you're so happy. Even if the end result is that my butt is going to be really, really sore. Four years' worth of soreness.
Hutch grunted. "Almost a shame that I feel differently about your butt now. I think this whole thing would be a lot more satisfying if I could just use that wooden paddle on you and forget about either of us getting turned on."
HUH? Geez, Hutch. You're mean. You're so goddammed mean. I swear to God in heaven that I'm going to get back at you for that. Wooden paddle, my ass. Who do you think you are?
Soft chuckle. "You look so alarmed, lover boy. Hard to believe. I mean, you of all people should understand that this is going to happen, and there's no getting out of it. Just breathe in and breathe out, Starsky. Accept it. I'm going to paddle your ass twelve times with my hand, whether you like it or not."
"And more than that if you misbehave before I'm finished."
Hutch began to unbutton the cuff of his right sleeve.
What? He's gotta have a special wardrobe? Deep breath. I don't think I like this, Hutch. You're enjoying this way, way too much.
Hutch was rolling up his sleeve. "Oh and, by the way, don't forget that this is going to happen every single night until I decide I don't want to be in control anymore." Leaning forward to drive his point home, his voice casual. "Starsky, I think it's safe to say it's going to take quite a number of weeks before I get this out of my system. I've been wanting to do it for a long, long time."
Starsky gulped again. He couldn't look at Hutch anymore. It was too humiliating. He looked at the floor. Man, I've really done it. How did I get in this mess? Mother, how did I ever screw up so bad that, at the age of thirty-five, a grown man is going to turn me over his knee and enjoy the hell out of spanking me because (he says) I deserve it?
A hand patted his head. "Contriteness isn't going to help a single bit."
Starsky slumped. Oh, God, I'm done for.
Soft chuckle, then scolding. "Oh, cheer up, Starsky. There's nothing you can do about it now."
Really, Hutch, expecting me to be cheerful.... I admit I was excited as hell when you first mentioned turning me over your knee, but that was just in comparison to being mutilated by that hard wooden paddle. Let's just get it over with. Bravely determined to swallow his medicine, he looked up. Hutch's biceps looked strong and powerful where the sleeve was rolled back. Come on, Hutch, just tell me what to do. You've been talking about you doin' my ass for two solid hours. Let's just do it. But it'd better not hurt. I'll be mad if it hurts.
Hutch straightened, patted his right thigh. He grinned widely. "Come on. Come up onto my lap."
Shit. Stomach twisting, Starsky crept on his knees until he was next to Hutch's right leg. How are we gonna do this anyway? It was so awkward, he couldn't believe it. Far more awkward than all that wild fucking they'd done the past two weeks. Can't believe I actually thanked you for this, for chrissakes.
"Don't make me tell you twice. It'll be worse."
You'd love that, wouldn't you, Hutch. Starsky took a deep breath. He still had the shirt on, but he was exceedingly aware of how bare his ass was. He grimaced, then launched himself facedown across Hutch's lap, immediately aware of an intense feeling of vulnerability.
Hutch, you better goddamn realize how much I love you to do this for you.
Hutch smoothed down his shirttail over the upper half of his butt.
Starsky released a breath. Oh, thank God. Not gonna do it yet. He won't do it until he rolls up the shirttail to unveil my tender ass.
His cock twitched.
Big hand rubbing across his lower buttocks. "Your ass cheeks are tight, buddy."
"Re-lax." Gentle syllables. "It'll hurt more if you're uptight. Remember, there's nothing you can do about it. Tensing your ass or holding your breath or biting your lip isn't going to save you."
Starsky took a deep breath. Hutch was right. He relaxed across Hutch's jeans-clad legs.
"Good boy." Big hand rubbing now across his cotton-clad back. Soothing. "I'll do you a favor, since this is your first time."
Starsky felt a flare of hope and raised his head. Favor?
"I'll hold you down, so you don't have to worry about trying not to move."
Shit. You call that a favor? Just how hard are you going to hit me, Hutch? Hard enough to make me jump?
Hutch was moving. Pulling his right leg up, so it was no longer beneath Starsky. Then carefully laying his knee over Starsky's lower thigh.
SHIT! He was pinned down now. His ass exposed to Hutch. He wet his lips. Tried not to think about his cock growing between his groin and Hutch's other leg.
Feel of Hutch's upper body turning... reaching.... Hutch's hands were next to his head. The cap came off the tube of lubricant.
What's he doing?
Greasing up his middle finger....
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He'd forgotten that, a million years ago, Hutch had said he was going to finger-fuck him before his spanking. In fact, he'd licked that finger clean so Hutch could fuck him with it.
Magic finger. Oh, yes, this was good. Very, very good that Hutch had him pinned down. Because he would otherwise jump halfway into the air when that finger went to work.
Soft, warm chuckle. "You're so transparent, buddy."
Yes, I'm transparent. My cock is trying to drive a highway through your leg, Hutch. And I don't care. In fact, turning me over your knee so you can rotate your finger up inside my ass is the most wonderful thing that's happened to me the past two hours.
Plastic tube tossed aside. Hutch straightening....
Starsky had a nice big hard-on now. Ah, yes, let's talk about fucking, Hutch. That's what this is all really about, isn't it? You just made that stuff up about wanting to paddle me for buying that house. You're pretty damn clever, Hutch. Scaring me and then exciting me and then humiliating me and then exciting me. You're one in a zillion.
Hutch parted his buttocks. Then blunt moistness wormed its way inside him....
Hutch went right to work. Fucking in and out. Pushing the finger in past the second knuckle.
Holy Moses. He wriggled his ass.
The finger rotated around, creating goosebumps all over Starsky's backside....
Jesus, God.... He gasped out loud. Whimpered at the perfection of it.
Strokes... long strokes... across his prostate....
"Ohh." Soft cry. He was in love with that finger.
Hutch bent the finger, making it bigger, then pulling it back toward the bunched muscles.
Jeesusholyfuckingshit.... His whole body quivered. He tried to grind his prick against Hutch's leg, but he was pinned too tightly.
Steady fucking. In... and out.... In...and out.... In... and out. Feeling the knuckles stimulate his sphincter with every stroke.....
Gonna pass out....
It was pulled out. Gone.
Starsky sighed airily. He collapsed against Hutch's lap. Mmm.
He was aware of Hutch wiping his finger off with a towel. "Starsky?"
"You know I love your butt."
"I don't want to hurt your butt, Starsky. But you know I have to."
He blinked, the blissful sensation dissipating. Have to? Are you sure, Hutch? How come you just can't sorta, you know, pat it with your hand and count to twelve real fast?
That big, smooth hand rubbed across the smoothness of his lower buttocks. Then up beneath his shirt....
Starsky's cock was going to make it through that leg, one way or another.
Hutch sighed. "The tough part is figuring out the fine line between hurting your butt enough to teach you some humility, and not really hurting it."
Then don't hurt it. I don't need to be taught a lesson, Hutch. Believe me, what I've gone through the past two hours is enough of a lesson to last me a lifetime. You don't even have to spank me the next six weeks. I'm cured. I'll never be bad again.
His shirttail started to roll up....
Oh, no. Oh, Jesus, no. Hutch, you can't really do this. Come on, Hutch, cut it out. I saw what your biceps look like. You could really hurt a guy, if you wanted to. Please, Hutch?
Each second more of his butt was exposed. The shirt now only covered the top fourth of his ass.
Stop it, Hutch. Don't roll it up anymore. He lunged against Hutch's leg.
Hutch chuckled, still rolling. "Go ahead, buddy boy. Squirm. Put on a good show for me. I've got you pinned down good. I'm loving every second of this."
Jesus, I've never heard you so happy....
With a flop, the rolled shirttail rested against Starsky's lower back. Reverently, Hutch smoothed it down, as though outlining the top of Starsky's cheeks.
Large hand, fingers spread, running slowly across his ass. His entire ass.
"Gotta get your butt all nice and sensitive, so I don't have to hit it so hard to be effective."
Starsky was gasping for breath. Yeah, good idea. You don't need to hit me hard, Hutch. I'll cry if you hit me hard.
"In fact," the hand slowed, carefully moving from one cheek to the other, "I think I really might not be the best judge of when your ass is truly ready."
Huh? Deep breath... deep breath....
"I don't want to mess this up, especially since it's your first time. I want to fair about it."
"Starsky, my love, you need to let me know when your butt's all nice and ready for its spanking."
Starsky sagged across Hutch's lap, even as he felt the dampness on Hutch's jeans from his leaking prick. Jesus, Hutch, that's worse than me telling you how many strokes. If I tell you my ass is ready, then you'll smack your hand across it. I can't do that. That's like askin' a guy to dig his own grave.
The hand circled slowly back over to the other cheek. Damn, my ass is getting warm from all the friction. Will it hurt more or less while it's so warm?
"Starsky," so patient, "I've explained to you about the Hutchinson stamina. You know it's going to happen, one way or the other. I'm having the night of my life. If you want to drag this out until morning," soft chuckle, "that's fine with me. It's your butt. And, remember, this starts all over again tomorrow night."
Shit. He'd forgotten about that.
Starsky wriggled his thighs, rocking his prick against Hutch's leg. If I could just come, I wouldn't care what he did to my bare ass. I'd be passed out. Come on, Hutch, grab my cock and help me come.
"Starsky, when you're ready, just say, 'My ass is ready for its spanking.' And I'll do it." That big hand rubbed non-stop against his bare skin.
If only he knew how hard Hutch intended to hit him. He could handle it if he knew that Hutch wasn't going to smack his ass very hard. He'd just get it over with. 'Course... even if he intends to hit it really hard, I still need to get it over with, anyway.
His cock flared against Hutch's leg.
Oh, God. Trapped. No Exit. Have to take my medicine. He swallowed with difficulty, preparing to speak.
"Starsky," so gentle, "I'm doing this because I love you."
Uh-huh. Like that's supposed to make me feel better. Like standing somebody up before a firing squad and saying it's because you love them.
"And because I know you want me to do it. You know you've had it coming for a long, long time."
You just wait, Hutch. I'm going to get you for this.
Deep breath. Okay, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna say it. He sagged. Need to stay relaxed so it doesn't hurt so much. Just accept it. Deep breath. Now what is it I'm supposed to say? Something that'll turn him on. Okay, okay, I remember. I know what it is. Deep breath. Here it goes. Oh, Godalmighty, I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. Deep breath.
"M-m-my... ass," deep breath, deep breath, "is-is ready....," oh, holy Moses this is insane, "f-for its....." His eyes squeezed shut. It better not hurt dammit. "...spanking."
Delighted chuckle. The hand went away.
Yikes!!! Jesus, God, my butt's tingling. Oh, God. His dick dove into Hutch's leg where it met the mattress.
God, my cock's so hard....
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." He geysered. All over Hutch's lap. Oh, JesusGodalmighty. Oh, God. Oh, God. He sagged lower between Hutch's legs. Oh, thank you, God. I don't care what happens. I'm in heaven.
Ouch!! Dammit, Hutch, that hurt. Squirming in protest.
Twelve, Hutch. That's twelve. Don't you dare hit me -
OUCH! My ass is raw, dammit.
All right, all right, stop. I'll never be bad again.
Ouch!! He wriggled, trying to get away, but Hutch's knee held him firm. That hurt. My ass is stinging.
You'd better not think for one second that you're going to get to fuck me after this.
My nerves are getting damaged, my ass is so numb.
Ouch!! There's a law against spanking somebody who doesn't have a hard-on. SMACK!!
"OUCH!" DAMMIT, that hurts!!
Starsky tightened up his butt cheeks, waiting. What's he waiting for? Damn sadist. Thinking it's funny that my butt is on fire....
Hutch's hand rested on his sore ass, then rubbed over it gently.
Starsky released a pent-up breath. Oh, thank God. I think it's over.
"Starsky?" Softly. "Did it hurt? Yes or no?"
"Yes," he pouted, sagged across Hutch's lap.
"Was I fair about it? Yes or no?"
Uhhh..... Oh shit, just give in. "Yes."
"Did you deserve it? Yes or no?"
"Will this make you think twice about being bad? Yes or no?"
"Yes." I'll think twice all right, Hutch. If I'm horny enough, I might think twice as hard about being extra specially bad. Your hand has to get tired sometime.
"Will you deserve to be spanked tomorrow? Yes or no?"
Uh oh. That question was a trap, if there ever was one. How could he know if he was going to be bad tomorrow or not? 'Course, Hutch had said something about a pent-up desire to spank him for the past four years. So, maybe how bad he was on a specific day didn't really matter that much. Hutch just downright wanted to do it. "Yes."
"Will you deserve to be spanked the day after that? Yes or no?"
"And will you deserve to be spanked all the days after that, for as long as I'm in charge? Yes or no?"
Jesus, my butt's fate is sealed. "Yes."
"Do you understand why you need to be spanked on a daily basis? Yes or no?"
"Yes." Like hell I do. You're just a sadist, Hutch. Enjoying the hell out of spanking my ass. I'm raw. It hurts more now than when you were doing it. And imagine how much it's gonna hurt tomorrow, when you start in on it again.
"Stand up." Gentle words.
Starsky sighed. At least he could get out of this humiliating position. Hutch's hands were on him as he turned.
"Sit down on my lap."
Starsky did, and his raw ass came into contact with the cooling semen on Hutch's jeans. He yelped and thrust his pelvis up.
Soft chuckle. "Oh, bad idea. Stand up."
Starsky stood, still feeling too ashamed to meet those blue eyes.
"No," Hutch corrected, spinning a finger, "turn around."
Shit. Rub my nose in it. Sighing, he turned around, grateful that he was standing a few feet in front of Hutch, so the other couldn't touch his ass without moving from the bed. There. Proud of your work, you sadist?
"Pull up your shirt."
Shit. He grabbed his shirt at the sides and lifted it up.
Extended silence. Then, "I did a nice job, considering I was limited to only twelve spanks." Amused.
"I need to get a Polaroid camera so I can take a picture after each time."
Hutch, you're really going to get it....
Soft chuckle. Then, "Reach back and rub your hands over it."
Jesus, Hutch. A wave of humiliation washed over Starsky. All right, I'll give you a cheap thrill. He rubbed his hands up and down, wincing and sucking in his breath. Surprised you don't want to feel yourself. For that matter, why don't you stick your tongue back there and make up for all of this? Now, there was a thought. Hutch, I could handle my ass stinging if I knew I'd get a good rimming afterwards. Your pale white face buried between my beet-red ass cheeks....
Gratefully, Starsky put his hands down. What a nice contrast. Would hafta get a mirror so I could see his face buried in there.... Just beautiful blond hair against my beet red ass, his face would be buried so deep.
"Does it still hurt? Yes or no?"
"Yes." The pout was still in his voice.
Hesitation, then, "More than before?" Hutch almost sounded concerned.
Now you're finally getting it, you dumb blond. "Yes." Come lick the hurt away, Hutch. Soothe my cheeks with your tongue. And when you're done with my tender, stinging butt, bury your nose in between them and make up for all of this....
Hutch was awfully quiet. Almost like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he asked, "What color do you think your butt is right now? Up to two words."
Silence. And then all of sudden Hutch burst into laughter behind Starsky.
Goddammit, Hutch, that's not funny. You're such a damn sadist. You've had your fun. This isn't funny anymore. My ass stings, dammit. It needs special attention.
Hutch laughed for a full minute and half. Finally, he managed to say, "Starsky, do you want to look at your butt in a mirror? Yes or no?"
Why the hell would I want to do that? Haven't you humiliated me enough for one night? "No." The pout still hadn't left his voice.
Hutch was still suffering bursts of laughter. Then, voice full of affection, he said, "I love you so damn much. So, so, so much."
Shit, of course you do. Who else would let you beat their tender skin raw so you can have a cheap thrill?
Hutch was still gushing. "You're so good at this. You're so damn good at getting your spanking. God, I love you. I love you so much for marrying us. And I'm so glad we're going to do this every single night for the next eight weeks."
EIGHT? When the hell did it get up to eight? You can't handle being in charge that long, Hutch.
Hutch finally seemed to calm, other than suffering a few residual chuckles. Then he said, "Is there anything you want to ask me? Yes or no?"
Huh? I dunno. "Yes."
"One question. Take as many words as you need."
Uh... why the hell are you laughing so hard? "What color is it?" Pout.
More laughter, then the sound of a hand slapping a denim-clad knee. "Oh, Starsky. You imp. It's pink. Your butt is a very, very pale pink. Your ass gets a lot redder than that after I've been slamming into your backside for ten solid minutes."
You've never once lasted ten minutes, Hutch.
"I didn't hurt you one damn bit, you big baby."
Bullshit, Hutch. And what do you know about it? Have you ever had a grown man with big biceps smack your bare ass with his bare hand? You really hurt me, Hutch. You just wait. I'm gonna go out and get my very own sawhorse, and I'm gonna put your name on it. And the minute you turn the power back over to me, I'm pullin' out that sawhorse and telling you to drape your pale white ass over it. And I'm tying you down with ropes. Soft ropes. Soft ropes are bad news, Hutch, because that means you're gonna be tied down for a very long time. And I'm gonna get out that wooden paddle. And I'm gonna spend such a long time tellin' you how I'm gonna paddle you that you're gonna beg for me to do it, because you know how much you've got it coming after everything you've put me through. And I'll even raise the paddle in the air over your butt to make you think justice is finally being served. But then I'll suddenly drop to my knees and work your asshole - come on, Hutch, give me some attention back there - and you'll beg for me to stop and use the paddle instead, you need it so bad. You'll want the wooden paddle even more than my tongue up your ass, because the paddle is what you know you deserve. You just wait.
"All right, lover." Hutch reached for Starsky's hand, sounding stupidly cheerful. "Our lesson in humility is over for tonight. Turn around and come to bed."
Starsky turned around.
"Get undressed." Hutch was starting on his own clothing.
Starsky worked on his shirt, not meeting Hutch's eye. Despite what Hutch said about the color of his ass, he still felt he needed some attention in the first aid category.
Hutch was naked now and sporting only a semi-interested erection.
Shit, Hutch, I don't think you're even going to fuck me. My ass isn't red enough to be irresistible. How do you think that makes me feel? You're happier spanking me than fucking me. Something's wrong with you, Hutch. I've known you nine years and I've never seen you so happy. I don't think I like that about you. I want a divorce.
Starsky got on the bed and lay face-down in the middle, making it clear that his butt was too sore to be against the sheets.
Hutch curled up beside him and reached forward for a kiss.
Now he's gonna get all mushy.
"Mmmm," Hutch murmured sleepily. He kissed Starsky... slowly... gently... tenderly. "Love you so, so much."
Yeah, right. Explain that to my backside. Come on, get your tongue working back there.
Hutch stroked along Starsky's shoulders, massaging. "You've had your spanking and I've had my thanking and now we're ready for sleep."
Regular domestic household. That's us.
"Just think." Hutch sounded ridiculously happy. "Tomorrow you'll wake up to a beautiful new day, knowing that you're going to get your paddling at the end of it. Starsky, I can't wait. I can't wait to get to sleep so we can hurry and wake up and get the day going so we can hurry and get to the end of it."
You're sick, Hutch. We need to get a special doctor from somewhere important, like Washington D.C., to come out and examine you. I can't believe how happy spanking me makes you. And not even fucking me afterwards, even though I felt your huge hard-on while you were doing it. What's wrong with you, Hutch?
Starsky felt a hand resting on his back, and then Hutch was looking at him from the side. Soft, uneasy chuckle. "You aren't going to pout like this all night, are you?"
Starsky glared at him.
Then Hutch laughed. "You think your ass still stings, don't you?"
THINK??? My ass is flame, Hutch. A burning ember.
"Ahhhhhh," Hutch cooed, not even trying to hide how falsely sympathetic he was being. "My poor abused love."
I've been abused, all right. Get your tongue back there and make it better.
Hutch kissed him. Once... twice... three times....
Stop it, Hutch. I can't be mad at you when you kiss me like that. Floating away....
Hutch stopped and barely pulled back. A gentle finger circled around Starsky's lips. "I'm so glad you married us, buddy. I've never been so happy."
I want a divorce. But I'll reconsider if your tongue gets to work.
Suddenly, the sickly-cheerful face clouded over. Hutch furrowed a brow. "You want something, don't you?"
Bullseye, college boy. Let me speak and I'll give you full details on how you're gonna pleasure me.
Hutch just gazed at him a moment, blinking.
Dumb blond. I can't believe how slow you are at this.
Then, no longer teasing, "Do you want me to put something on it?"
Finally. He nodded, making sure his expression was still full of pout.
"Maybe some lotion?"
Jesus, you're dense. His frown deepened.
Hutch blinked again.
Jesus, how long does it take for that light bulb to go on? If you were any good at being in charge, Hutch, you would've already rammed your prick up my ass instead of thinking about how you're going to make me less mad at you. And if my ass wasn't red enough for you, you shoulda made it redder. Man, you're lousy at this.
Then the blue eyes brightened. "You want me to kiss it and make it better?"
Starsky restrained a sigh. If I say yes, he'll think I just want kisses back there. Hutch, your whole goddamned tongue better work me over good. Come on, tell me I can speak and I'll draw a map for you.
"First aid?" Hutch tried again. "Personal first aid?"
Yes, college boy. That's the term for it. My ass needs your personal ministrations.
"You want me to soothe the hurt away?"
Yes. And don't make me tell you again.
"With what? Up to two words."
I only need one, stupid. "Tongue." He was still pouting.
Soft chuckle. "All right, you big baby. I'll love the hurt away."
That's right, Hutch. And every visible millimeter of my butt had better be glistening before you start down my crack.
Hutch took a deep breath.
That's right, blondie. Think about how your tongue is gonna to work my nice, smooth, tender butt. You want your tongue on my butt so bad, I can feel you trembling. Jesus, you're lousy at being stern with me.
"Then, afterwards," Hutch swallowed thickly, "I'll...."
Finish me off properly. That's exactly right. We both know where your tongue is going after you've tended to the hurt you've caused.
Hutch kissed him. Kissed him tenderly. Thoroughly. "Mmmm, I'm crazy about you. So crazy about you."
That's right. My butt owns you, Hutch. It's enslaved you. You're so obsessed with my ass that I can get you to do anything I want. Even when you're in charge.
Lips attaching to his once again, Hutch groaned blissfully.
Ah, man, Hutch, you're too good at this. How can you make me feel so good when I'm supposed to be mad at you?
Hutch's face was all soft as he pulled back. Then he shook a finger and teased, "Oops, you've got to watch that, buddy. I think your pout actually went away for a second there."
Another exceedingly tender kiss on Starsky's lips. Then, when he pulled back, "I love you so damn much. So, so much."
All right, all right. I love you, too. Big softie.
Another kiss, this one shorter. "You've made me the happiest man on earth."
Yeah, I know. All because you get to paddle my ass. You're missin' more than a few screws, Hutch.
Another kiss. Then soft teasing. "Your butt all ready to have the hurt washed away? Yes or no?"
"Yes." It's about time, Hutch. In fact, you've taken so long to get to it that I'm probably going to be asleep before you're even finished with my butt cheeks. That means that, when we wake up tomorrow morning, you'd better have your tongue up my ass, first thing. And it better not take two hours for you to figure out that's what I want. If I have to, I'll sit on your face to get the point across.
Oh shit. There's an idea....
"All right, love." Long kiss. Long kiss. "Turn your beautiful self over."
Starsky shifted fully onto his stomach, but had to keep his head turned, because Hutch kept planting kisses, trying to get to his lips.
"One more," Hutch muttered, kissing. Then again. "One more."
Starsky laid his head down, with his face turned away. Hutch continued kissing up into his hair. Then bent over to his other side and found his lips again.
Starsky couldn't restrain a grin. Big softie. Then had to restrain a sigh as the kissing continued. Come on, Hutch, I've got other openings in my body where you can put your over-active mouth.
Hutch was straightening. Moving back....
Finally. Starsky sighed deeply, letting himself relax against the mattress. He spread his legs so Hutch could get comfortably between them. Then closed his eyes.
A looooong wet lick went up the outer edge of his left buttock, going halfway up the cheek.
That's right, Hutch. You start on the outside and work your way in. You know all about how to take good care of my ass.
A brief shift. Then another loooong wet stroke went up the upper half of his outer butt cheek.
A wave of goosebumps broke out along Starsky's skin. He closed his eyes, smiling inwardly. I'm not gonna even wriggle or whimper. I'm just gonna take it. Just lay here in a state of bliss.
He felt a stream of moisture drip down off the edge of his ass.
Mmm. That's right, Hutch. Drool all over them.
A soft noise came from behind Starsky as Hutch spread wetness up his lower half again, overlapping the first stream of worship. "Mmmmmmmm." Utter contentment.
Yeah... that's my Hutch. Ahhh, man. Maybe I won't have to get that sawhorse, after all. It's much better like this. You think you're in charge, but I really am. He restrained a snicker. I'm gonna be so bad tomorrow that I'll be up to 264 spanks. You're gonna be complainin' about how sore your hand is before you're done with me. I'll have come all over your lap sixteen times, and you'll still be waiting for your 'thank you'. And, boy, after that many smacks, my ass is going to need some major tender lovin' care. And I know I can make you do it, Hutch. Just like I made you tonight.
I own you, Hutch.
He felt himself starting to drift, content in that knowledge. Hutch's tongue was now travelling along to the inner side of his buttcheek.
Mmm... feels so good.
He restrained a yawn, knowing he was too relaxed to stay conscious.
The next time you let me have three words, Hutch, I'm going to say, "I love you."
* * *
Hutch's hand trembled as he pulled off a section of saran wrap from the roll. He very carefully placed it over the chef's salad he'd just prepared. As delicious as the salad looked, it was going to have to keep until later.
Starsky was waiting.
Hutch drew a deep breath as he put the salad into the refrigerator. And wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
Two evenings ago, he'd enjoyed it immensely when, unexpectedly, Starsky had forfeited control of their relationship. And Hutch's fantasy in recent days - which had actually started tickling his imagination years ago - suddenly had an opportunity to be brought to reality. Starsky had played his side of the game beautifully, squirming deliciously across Hutch's lap after he'd orgasmed. His partner may have pushed the pouting routine a bit far afterwards, but any trepidation Hutch had had that maybe Starsky really hadn't appreciated his paddling was dynamited into oblivion the next day - just yesterday?
Starsky had been impossible from the moment they'd awoken. After Hutch had fucked him, that is. While Starsky didn't talk unless spoken to, his actions all day long were annoying, irritating, and blatantly rebellious. He'd wriggled his butt suggestively before getting into the car. He'd whistled loudly while they were driving. He poured Hutch coffee and spilled it on his hand. He handed Hutch a pencil and "accidentally" dropped it to the floor. He made funny faces at Hutch when they were standing next to each other at the urinals. His most blatant act of rebellion had been when they got into the Torino to see a witness. Hutch was already in the passenger seat, and Starsky had crawled across him, his knee landing on Hutch's groin, and his butt in Hutch's face, in order to get to the driver's seat.
Hutch had already mentally counted fifty-two spanks before that little incident. He was in trouble. Starsky had called his bluff. He didn't think he could figure out a way to paddle Starsky that many times - and who knew how many more before the day was over - without actually hurting him. Unless he paddled him so gently that the whole thing would be pointless.
So, Hutch had been in a quandary all afternoon, trying to figure out how he was going to... handle... his partner. Punish him for all his insolence. Starsky was obviously expecting - relishing - the anticipation of being taught whatever lesson Hutch wanted to deliver. Sure enough, when they arrived at Starsky's place after shift, Starsky had eagerly trotted up the stairs, taken his shower, then gotten on the bed in the prescribed position, his shirttail draped over his butt. Hutch had stayed in the kitchen a while, having a beer, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He didn't want to disappoint Starsky.
Then he'd taken a shower to give himself more time to think, and it hadn't helped him to come up with any new ideas. He'd come into the bedroom naked, feeling a sense of doom that Starsky was going to "win" this little scenario. Starsky had a full hard-on, showing his eager anticipation, and a grin was lighting the side of his face, again showing his thorough enjoyment of how the day had gone... and was going to end.
Still uncertain of what he was going to do, Hutch had sat on the bed. Without any preliminaries, he'd patted his thigh and told Starsky to lie across his lap. His partner had obeyed immediately, squirming delightfully before settling across Hutch's thighs, thereby rubbing their hard-ons together.
And then a memory knocked on the door of Hutch's brain. At the hotel, when Starsky had been fantasizing out loud about their private activities during their working day, he'd mentioned something about tying Hutch down over a sawhorse. Starsky had said he'd do it because Hutch had been "bad". And then, obviously as punishment, Starsky would tongue his asshole to "straighten him out". Funny... that Starsky associated punishment with ass licking. Whether it was applying an ass-lick, or withholding it, Starsky seemed to think that titillating tongue-against-asshole was the root of all discipline.
Hutch had looked at those round butt cheeks presented to him for punishment. The well-defined crevice separating them. The darkness between. And he knew what he wanted - needed - had to do. His cock felt like it was doubling in size as his task became clear to him.
"Turn around and put your hands on the floor," he'd ordered in a shaky voice. But he knew his directions hadn't been clear, and Starsky shifted hesitantly, as though unsure of what he was supposed to do.
"Turn and put your hands on the floor," Hutch repeated with less patience. His own hands had grabbed Starsky's nearest leg and was trying to move it to the other side of himself. Starsky turned and, between both their actions, his upper body awkwardly fell to the floor, his hands reaching out to support himself, his chest over Hutch's knees.
Hutch had Starsky's left leg now to the left of him, while Starsky' right leg remained on his right. Yes, he was nicely between them, those beautiful butt cheeks raised to his face.
Hutch hands were wrapped around Starsky's thighs to hold him in place. He pushed his head between those fleshy cheeks, forcing them to part. His tongue started to work, moving purposely up and down over that hidden opening, licking wetly with frantic speed. He'd tended to Starsky's ass on quite a few occasions since Long Beach, of course, but this had a totally different purpose. There was nothing leisurely about it now. Nothing intended to provocatively tantalize. The sole purpose was to deliver supreme pleasure... to punish Starsky with it.
And within moments Starsky was crying out. Quivering and shuddering. Shaking. Hutch had to tighten his grip on his thighs, and it encouraged him to lick more intently. He was using so much saliva that it was running down Starsky's legs, onto his balls, dripping down Hutch's chin. Hutch felt possessed, wanting to unify them at this pleasure point. Even though he could always return to this place in the future, he wanted to give Starsky everything he could right now, right at this moment. Starsky had it coming, after all.
The frantic demands of his tongue wore Starsky down, and then that orifice relaxed enough to open for him. Hutch pushed his tongue inside, heard an intense noise that almost qualified as a yell, and worked his tongue along the inner membrane of that sensitive flesh. Starsky began bucking then, crying out continuously, forcing Hutch to hold him even tighter. He licked more at the opening, realizing his tongue was getting sore from the constant friction, despite all the natural lubrication. Abruptly, he released Starsky's thighs and his lover's lower body sagged against Hutch's lap, his upper body sagging against the floor, as he made a one long continuous noise between a groan and sob.
Hutch had never been so aroused without any direct genital contact. Holding Starsky by the waist, he'd shifted out from beneath him. "On the bed," he'd commanded breathlessly, trying to help get those rag-doll-like limbs into position. He kept pushing, shoving, and pulling at Starsky until he was kneeling on the bed, hips raised, chest lowered to the mattress.
Some part of him knew he was taking a chance, but Hutch's fire was too great. He dipped his cock into the spit still dripping down onto that generous scrotal pouch. It was all the lubricant he was going to take time for. He shoved his leaking shaft against Starsky's slick opening, and thrust.
Starsky cried out. It wasn't a cry of pain, but of the ecstasy of ejaculation. Hutch had never felt so masculine in his life... knowing that his cock could cause that degree of pleasure, just from the act of penetration. He hadn't even gotten it in all the way. With Starsky shaking and shuddering around his length, Hutch drove in deep... pulling back almost completely... then drove in deep once more, releasing his own all-consuming passion.
Panting and moaning incoherently, they'd collapsed on the mattress and curled up together, allowing unconsciousness to claim them.
They'd actually been a bit shy with each other this morning, as though not quite able to face the intensity of what they had experienced. But there was definitely something to Starsky's beliefs about discipline, for last night's "punishment" had worked. Starsky had been almost a perfect angel today.
For which Hutch was very relieved. He didn't know how he could have possibly dreamed up something else if Starsky had been incorrigible again. As it was, if he had to spank Starsky, it would only be a couple of whacks. And that was hardly worth playing the game for.
Once again, Hutch was unsure of what he was going to do with Starsky when he walked into the bedroom. Starsky was in position, freshly showered, erect, and a grin lighting one side of his face. This time, Hutch was fully clothed. The blond placed an appreciative hand on one buttock and felt it shiver. He moved it up beneath the shirttail, then let his fingers trail down into the crevice, over the recess, down into the hanging pouch. He squeezed gently there, and Starsky made a little noise of appreciation.
No, after what he'd done last night, there weren't any new ways up his sleeve to pleasure that end. Hutch stepped around the bed to the front of his partner, looking down at the bowed head. He considered unzipping his fly, and telling Starsky to draw out his prick... using just his mouth. It was gratifying to know that he could have that - or anything else - merely by telling Starsky to do it. After all, Starsky would do anything for him - no matter how insane - simply because he loved him.
Hutch felt the flush of warmth, of awed disbelief, that it had come to this.
It wasn't that he had any trouble believing that Starsky loved him; only that that love was expressed so beautifully and willingly and openly. Hutch had never known, or expected to know, anything like that in his life.
And for all that beauty and intensity and heartfelt emotion, their sexual activities had started out in a bizarre - negative, actually - way, and had stayed at a level unlike any Hutch had ever known before. As he thought about it now, it occurred to him that in these ten days of intense sexual activity, none of it had ever taken place on an equal level. Even that first time, Hutch had only performed because Starsky had wanted him to. Since then, they'd fallen into some sort of dominance/submission game. Hutch had been so intent on playing it well, that he hadn't even realized until now just how those games had pervaded a hundred percent of their sexual expressions.
That fact was a little startling. Hutch noticed that his hand was stroking Starsky's head, and he decided he liked the simplicity of the act, and he kept doing it as uncomfortable thoughts rallied in his brain.
He'd been fully aware, two nights ago, that if Starsky hadn't liked anything that was happening, all Starsky had to do was say "No", say that he didn't want to play. And that would have been the end of it. So, Starsky had obviously enjoyed what took place between them.
Hutch bit his lip before he could utter a noise of surprise. It was the same when the shoe was on the other foot. At any time, when they were at the hotel and all those days afterwards, he could have simply refused to play. And yet, that freedom had never once occurred to him. Even though on some level Hutch had understood it was all a game aimed at acquiring the most intense pleasure, it had never dawned on him to consider refusing to participate. Throughout their partnership, it had been very rare when Starsky demanded anything of him. But whenever Starsky had said, "This is how it's gonna be", Hutch hadn't questioned it. And he hadn't even questioned it when Starsky had first taken charge of their sexual relationship when they were in that closet.
What does it say about us? Hutch wondered. Is it that we need those games in order to have sex together? No. He couldn't believe that. Didn't want to believe it.
He looked down at the mass of curls he was stroking. He wanted to kiss Starsky very badly right now. Wanted to curl up with him and be reassured that their behavior had been solely for pleasure, and not something either of them required. He wanted the games to end, and know that they could love each other just as intensely without them.
And once he was assured of that, they could play again.
Hutch reached down to grip Starsky's arm. "Buddy? Turn over and lie back," he said tenderly. "Lie back at the head of the bed." He moved to prop up the pillows so that Starsky could lie back against them. When the other was settled, Hutch straddled his thighs. Deep blue eyes regarded him warmly, curiously, and Hutch took Starsky's face in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss him... tenderly... sweetly....
It was always so beautiful, their kissing. Hutch thought his heart might explode from the sheer perfection of it.
When he pulled back, he swallowed and said, "I don't want to be in charge tonight. And maybe not tomorrow, or the night after that. I want... I want us to be equal... at least for a while." Exposing his heart....
The face inches from his softened, and Starsky smiled warmly and simply whispered, "Hello."
Hutch thought he might collapse. Because it was so perfect. He swallowed, to make sure words could make it past the thickness in his throat. "I want all of me to be inside of you, or all of you to be inside of me." Sharing mere body parts wasn't enough.
Starsky blinked. Then he reasoned, "Hutch, if one of us were completely inside the other, then there wouldn't be any reason to fuck."
Hutch thought about truth of that, yet was reluctant to let go of the fantasy. "But it would be like a continuous orgasm."
Slowly, Starsky shook his head. He put his arm next to Hutch's, where their forearms were uncovered. Hutch looked at his own pale skin against his partner's darker flesh.
"No, Hutch," Starsky said softly. He touched his chest hair revealed by the open buttons of his shirt, and then placed his hand against the same smooth area on Hutch. "The contrast is too beautiful. If we were both inside one body, the beauty of the other body would be lost."
Starsky spoke poetry. Hutch swallowed again, unable to believe the perfection of all the feelings between them, all the pleasure they had experienced and could experience again. The simple joy of being together right now. "I want to die," he said, forcing the words past the heaviness in his throat.
Starsky blinked, then shook his head. "No, Hutch," he corrected again, eyes gazing into Hutch's. "Just because it's too perfect now doesn't mean it won't still be perfect tomorrow." Hands came up and gently rested against the back of Hutch's neck. "What's been going on between us lately is only the beginning." Soft, provocative whisper. "It'll get better from here."
Hutch felt his heart slamming against his chest. It couldn't be better than it had already been. That was impossible. The prospect that what Starsky said might be true was frightening. Terrifying.
But his partner's voice was soothing. "I know that about you, Hutch." The words were slow and measured and affectionate. "I know that you're incapable of believing that a good thing can stay good. That when you receive pleasure on one day, you aren't supposed to feel it again the next day, because that would be an embarrassment of riches - an excess you don't feel you deserve. That when you cause hurt, you deserve to be hurt back. That life is hard and any occasional small blessings you receive along the way have to stay small and occasional."
Hutch felt a layer of skin was being peeled away, so that only nakedness remained. The nakedness of his soul. And he had nothing with which to cover himself.
"That's why it had to happen this way between us," Starsky said.
Hutch swallowed, wondering if he was ready to hear what Starsky was ready to reveal.
"I had to get us past what happened that first time," his partner said in the same measured voice. "And when it was good and beautiful between us, I had to show you that, every day, every hour, it could become even more good and beautiful. That the possibilities of what we can feel together are infinite." His hand came up and rested against Hutch's chest again.
Hutch closed his eyes. It may have all been a game, but it had also all been very deliberate. He was putty, for Starsky to do with as he pleased. He thought he should feel angry about that - used - but the only emotion he could come up with was hope. Hope for the future.
Starsky shifted slightly beneath Hutch. And his voice became more firm, while still retaining its soothing quality. "There's one thing that I can't deny. And that's that I know what it's like to know that you're dead. But since you're really here, in the flesh, in this body, I intend to make sure that we both enjoy it as much as humanly possible. Feel the pleasure that can come from being alive on this earth. And I'm not going to apologize for it, Hutch. I'm not going to apologize for making you feel as good as you possibly can, as often as I possibly can." Pause. "Because nothing is going to bring me more pleasure than that."
I want to die, Hutch thought again. It would mean he would never have to leave this place, where he was naked with the one person who would keep him covered with love.
That siren voice was softer now, more gentle. "And I also know, Hutch, that there's going to be times when you get into one of your moods, and you're going to start questioning what I've said. You're going to question if it's all right to feel so much pleasure so much of the time. And you're going to question if what's perfect can stay perfect. And there might even be times," thick swallow, "when you question if I really love you." Ultra-soft voice now, a hand stroking his shoulder. "But that will be all right, Hutch. Because when those times happen, I'll straighten you out."
Straighten you out. Hutch felt his breath catch in his throat. Wasn't that the phrase Starsky had used when fantasizing out loud at the hotel? He'd spoken of the sawhorse. Tying Hutch down over it because he'd been "bad" and needed to be straightened out. Is that what Starsky meant now? Is that how he would do it?
Tying him down would be a kindness, Hutch knew. It would mean he wouldn't have to worry about holding still. Holding still for the punishment Starsky would deliver... the punishment that would only come in the form of pleasure... no matter how little Hutch deserved it. Starsky would punish him with pleasure to show him that it was wrong to feel he didn't deserve it. That infinite pleasure was always his right.
At the hotel, Starsky had spoken of delivering that pleasure with his tongue. But Hutch knew there could be many other methods. If he was bent over a sawhorse, there were many other ways that pleasure could be delivered. The back of his body would be exposed to Starsky. Not justice the obvious areas, but the back of his legs. Starsky had proven by bringing Hutch's chest alive that he could make mundane areas of the body into highly erotic zones.
Hutch closed his eyes, cringing as he felt a flush break out over his denim-clad backside, imagining it helplessly exposed to Starsky.
And kept them closed as he felt his unveiling complete. Starsky knew all of him, all of his soul. Hutch was trapped, for there was nowhere within himself that was private from this man who was the center of life. Starsky knew him far too well. And therefore, Starsky possessed the capability to hurt Hutch to a tremendous degree.
"I love you." Nothing overly soft now. But raw fact.
Hutch's eyes snapped open.
"I love you," Starsky said again, gaze holding Hutch's. "I love you so, so much."
Hutch bowed his head.
Gentle scolding. "Don't turn those beautiful eyes away from me, when I tell you how I feel about you."
Hutch looked at Starsky again, but the feelings were still too strong. He closed his eyes, this time leaning forward....
It was the most beautiful joining in all the universe. His lips touched those soft, succulent ones across from him. The flavor on the tip of his tongue was everything that was good and wonderful. The perfection of it made him weak, and he turned his head to one side and collapsed against Starsky's shoulder. Arms were around him, hugging him - for the first time since before this all happened. The simplicity of the act made his chest fill with warmth, his heart's swelling tightening his throat. His own arms went around Starsky, squeezing tight that body he wanted so much to hold... and wanted so much to treat with great adulation.
They stayed like that for a long time. When Hutch thought he could speak, he whispered, "I want to die." He knew Starsky knew what he meant; yet, that still didn't prevent him from needing to say it, to express how, moment by moment, he wanted to enslave the feelings between them in such a way that they could never be lost. For as long as he were alive, loss was always a possibility.
When Starsky replied, his voice had changed. It was now one of play. "Uh-huh," he said as Hutch straightened so they could look at each other again. An elfin grin. "You don't think, for one minute, that I'm gonna let you get away with what you did to me the other night?"
Hutch thought. The other night. Starsky's spanking. His love deliciously writhing across his lap....
"You can't die, Hutch. Because first, of course, I have to get back at you for that."
Hutch felt his blood begin to circulate at an increased rate.
"Of course," Starsky relented, "it's not gonna happen tonight. Or tomorrow night. Probably not for quite a few weeks." Thoughtful pause. "We'll save it for a rainy day."
Hutch's eyes sought the window. When will it rain again?
Soft chuckle, and Hutch knew the thought behind it: You're so transparent. "'Course," Starsky went on in an amused tone, "it probably won't be a complete surprise. 'Cause there's probably going to have to be some preparation involved ahead of time." Another pause. "Maybe some custom work. Might have to buy a few things."
Hutch's mind raced ahead. The sawhorse was the image that came first. Custom work. Would Starsky go to that carpentry shop and have one built just for him? And preparation. Would Starsky measure him so that the horse could be built to the right size? And what about the rope? In his mind's eye, Hutch could see them both at a hardware store. Starsky examining various ropes. And then handing his selection to Hutch and telling him to purchase it.
There would be time involved in getting everything ready. And then waiting for it to rain. If they were lucky, maybe the rain would come before a weekend. A whole weekend of Starsky's "retaliation". A whole weekend of being the center of Starsky's attention. Just as, with the preparation, he would be the center of Starsky's attention. Just as he had been for so many days, starting with the hotel in Long Beach. Except it must have started even before that. He obviously figured that all out ahead of time.
That was the beauty of knowing Starsky was in charge. Knowing that Starsky was thinking about him, about what to do to him - how to pleasure him - nearly every moment of every day.
And then there would be the pleasure itself. Hutch shuddered....
What form would it come in? What part of Starsky would touch what part of Hutch? What part of him would be commanded to touch what part of Starsky? If he were tied down over a sawhorse, it would only happen one way. Starsky giving. Hutch receiving. What if it were too intense and he couldn't take it? He would have no choice but to accept whatever Starsky deemed appropriate.
It was the anticipation - and not knowing what was going to happen - that was always so perfect about it all. Hutch knew he was condemned to a continuous hard-on between now and when the rain started....
He returned to the present and looked at Starsky, found the other regarding him with a pleased expression.
"But that's all," Starsky said enticingly, "for later. I'm much more interested in what I'd like to do with you right now. Wanna hear about it?"
He'd prefer not to know. Just anticipate. But Starsky seemed to want to tell him. "Yes."
A grin of affection. Then a lulling, provocative voice. Starsky had one hand on Hutch's shoulder. With the other, he drew patterns across Hutch's cotton-clad chest as he talked. "You know how I've made this my project area? Made this part of your body real special? Well, I'm gonna start there, Hutch."
Oh, God. He loved it so much when Starsky was attentive to his chest.
Through the shirt, Starsky's finger each of his little nipples. "Gonna take my time there, Hutch. Take everything I've learned about your nerves in this area and use it, so all those little sensitive places feel as good as they possible can. And then, after I've awakened every nerve there and indulged it a while, I'm gonna prop your beautiful ass up on a pillow, and then push your legs apart, and then I'm gonna put my tongue down between your cheeks. I'm not gonna make you crazy there, Hutch; just gonna tongue real slow and easy, and get your nerves ready for what's gonna happen later. And then I'm gonna lick up into your balls. You know, Hutch, I don't really know them all that well. I need to educate myself on how they like to be licked and fondled... and swallowed."
Hutch realized his mouth was open as he felt fluid drip from his cock to dampen his underwear.
"And my tongue is gonna lick up the full length of your beautiful long prick. Gonna get it all soakin' wet. And then I'm gonna swallow it down. I love how the spongy part of the head feels against the back of my throat. Gonna swallow all around that area." His voice became very soft. "S'okay if you wanna take a long time to come. You just enjoy yourself while I'm enjoying you." Starsky licked his lips.
Hutch slowly closed his eyes, feeling himself turn to mush while imaging that incredible suction against his sensitive flesh.
Soft, affectionate chuckle. "And then, while you're lying there recovering, floating on a cloud of air, I'm gonna put a little gel on my fingers and put them inside your ass and stretch you out." Deep-throated whisper. "Spend a lotta time getting' you all ready for me. And then I'm gonna put my huge cock in there and fuck you from the front. And I'm gonna watch you watch me fucking you."
Hutch groaned, letting his eyes drift open. They'd never done it face to face before. Always something new. Starsky's imagination seemed non-stop. As was his desire to love him.
Hutch felt it, too. So encompassing. So soul-deep. So constant. He swallowed thickly, and was barely able to mutter his wishes. "The next time we fuck, I don't want us to ever part." He still felt determined to make them a part of each other... permanently.
Starsky's reply contained the barest hint of amusement, while full of deep emotion. "Now, you're wanting us both to die while connected to each other."
Hutch managed a slight grin while looking away, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.
Starsky's voice was serious now. "You know what I should have realized when I was in that Godforsaken shit hole?"
Hutch looked at him, curious about the change in subject.
Dark azure eyes met his own. "I should have known you weren't dead because I couldn't feel you around me. Because, if you really had been dead, your spirit would have been with me, wouldn't it?"
Hutch gazed back at those orbs that were full of the need to believe. He felt moisture pool in his eyes. He didn't know what to believe himself other than what was in his heart. What Starsky said wasn't something he'd ever thought about. But now he realized the truth: If they were ever permanently joined, it would be in spirit. Any physical joining could only come from fucking. That could only happen while they were alive. But it couldn't be permanent. But that didn't mean they couldn't keep doing it over and over and over again....
"Yes," he replied gently. They would find each other after death. If they didn't die together, then the one who crossed over would delay his entry into heaven - or whatever afterlife there was - and watch over the other's life. Until then, they had the physical. And for now....
"I want to fuck you," Hutch said. "Right now." He liked the idea that Starsky had presented. "Face to face. For hours." Starsky's agenda had sounded delicious, but Hutch wanted this right now.
Starsky released a heavy breath. Then a small grin. "I think it'll be easier if you take your clothes off first."
Yes, he needed to do that. Hutch wrenched himself away from the bed. He took the pathetically flat tube of grease and tossed it to Starsky, knowing it wasn't going to be enough. In the bathroom, he found a jar of petroleum jelly in the medicine cabinet. After setting it on the nightstand, he started to undress. While doing so, he watched Starsky prepare himself with what was left of the grease. When the tube was tossed into the trash, Hutch nodded toward the jar. Gently, he said, "You might want to use some of that, too. I'm going to fuck you for a long time." In fact, he really hoped he could make it last so long that they'd eventually fall asleep while still joined. He didn't care whether they ever orgasmed or not.
But Starsky merely shrugged and, when naked, Hutch took the jar and applied a liberal helping of the thick gel to himself. While doing so, he watched the other stroke his swaying erection soothingly.
Hutch furrowed a brow, remembering that night at the hotel. That thick flesh had seemed like a monstrosity then. Incredibly huge. Now, Hutch felt that Starsky was without question well endowed, but not abnormally so. Interesting, how perception could be so easily manipulated. In fact, he wondered if his perception then had somehow been a conscious creation of Starsky's.
He also wondered if the intensity of their recent behavior had been a search for balance. So ripped apart they had been... faced with proof of each other's death. Now, so desperate to be together. To join for eternity.
Hutch stepped next to the bed. Starsky had rid himself of his shirt and Hutch reached down and felt along his furred chest. He discovered a nipple and rubbed his fingertip across it. "Hmm. Look what I found." He'd paid almost no attention to Starsky's chest up until now. A whole new world for him to explore. So much they'd already experienced together, and still there was more to discover....
Starsky grunted and Hutch realized he was being negligent. Starsky was looking at him with an expression that was loud and clear.
Hutch obliged... pressing his lips against the ones beneath him. Sinking into a warm, wonderful void... dying a slow death....
Eventually, it ended, but their faces were still very close together, feeling the heat of each other's breath.
Starsky whispered, "Are you going to kiss me the whole time you're fucking me?"
Hutch hoped it was mechanically possible. "Yes. And with one hand I'm going to stroke your cock. With the other hand, I'm going to rub your chest."
Starsky's hot breath exhaled against his face. "And I'm gonna have my legs wrapped around your waist. And I'm going to have one arm around you, holding you. And my other hand is going to be pressed against your heart."
Hutch swallowed thickly, feeling his eyes water.
Starsky nodded toward the wall. "Why don't you get the light."
Yes. This should all take place in darkness, so they could fall asleep together, with all possible parts of their bodies fully engaged with each other. He wanted so much for it to last all night.
Hutch left the bed and walked to the light switch. He turned if off. There was still light from the living room and he decided to let it be. When he turned back to the bed, Starsky was pushing a pillow beneath his rear to hoist it up.
Hutch moved to the bed. And began a new journey of loving.