When Hutch woke up the next day, it took him a minute to figure out where he was and who he was with. He lay still, unsure of his surroundings, slowly remembering the information he needed to resolve his confusion.

   Where: Starsky's place. Specifically: Starsky's room. More specifically: Starsky's bed. Okay.

   The warm, nude body curled up against him, one leg and half a torso sprawled across his chest and thighs:


   He blinked, pushed a tangle of unruly brunette curls away from his chin, and gazed half-asleep at the overhead mirror. The bare, perfect ass mooning him was unmistakable. Starsky. He shifted, and his own tender rear brought last night's athletic endeavors in all too sharp a focus. He sighed in memory, everything coming back in a rush. Hugging the warm body surrounding him, he buried his nose in the clean-scented hair. He considered rousing his new lover in a sensuous way, but his bladder had other ideas.

   Deciding Starsky probably needed more rest than he did--Hutch, after all, had only come once last night to Starsky's double release--he managed to inch his way out from under the unconscious prone body, giving him a pillow to embrace when Starsky grumbled an incoherent complaint. That seemed to satisfy him, as Starsky lapsed immediately back to sleep, softly snoring around Hutch's pillow, his arms tight around it, his face buried in the blue pillowcase.

   You look so harmless in your sleep, Hutch thought, with a wry smile.

   Taking the top sheet, he shook it out to cover Starsky's bare body. Two small items tumbled from its folds and landed on the floor near his feet. After covering Starsky, Hutch retrieved them. It was the tube of lubricant and its cap. The tube must've been new when they started, Hutch realized, since there was still plenty in it. He screwed on the top and went around the bed to Starsky's night stand to put it back in the drawer Starsky had pulled it from in the first place.

   As Hutch quietly opened the drawer, he spied a stack of books. The top one caught his eye, the title startling him as much as if he'd found a hooker plying her trade in church.

   How To Make Love To A Man, he read, reaching for the book. A comprehensive guide to the pleasures of gay sex.

   He couldn't see the title of the book beneath it, so turned it just as Starsky shifted in the bed, making soft sounds in his sleep. His bladder was really insistent now, so Hutch grabbed the whole stack of books, closed the drawer silently, and padded into the bathroom.

   He relieved himself quickly, then put the lid down on the toilet. Cushioning it with a clean towel in deference to his sensitive rear, he sat to read.

   It was an impressive pile of reference material. In addition to the first book--a large manual with beautiful illustrations--there was The Gay Kama Sutra. That had some nice line drawings--some of which Hutch suspected were largely impossible for anyone who wasn't an advanced yoga master. There was also a practical book titled The Law and The Homosexual, and a small book called, Maintaining A Healthy Anus.

   Hutch didn't know whether to burst into laughter or pound Starsky into the mattress with the two heaviest volumes. He leafed through the books as he contemplated his devious partner. Well, it was his own fault. Hutch's avoidance of the topic had given Starsky three months to decide how he felt about the situation and what he wanted to do about it. And when Starsky was unsure of something, he hit the books.

   In spite of his maintaining a "dumb cop," facade, Starsky was a sponge for knowledge, the more arcane the better. Over the years, Hutch had learned not to waste his time researching historical information on their cases, since Starsky would do that for them, better and more thoroughly. It left Hutch time to collect information that was more immediate and pertinent to the specifics of the case. As he did, Starsky would invariably show up with a stack of dog-eared books in which every obscure reference had been cataloged and digested. Together, they would dovetail the information into a complete picture. It had always been a good system before, only this time Hutch hadn't held up his end, so to speak.

   The receipt for the books had been left as a book mark in the Kama Sutra. Starsky had actually ventured to a gay book store to get these. Hutch was impressed. Of course, there was little that intimidated Starsky, but he couldn't help but wonder what the clerks had thought of his butch partner perusing the stacks, or if anyone had made a pass at him while he was there. Hutch laughed softly to himself, and hoped he'd get to hear the story.

   The Healthy Anus book had at least four recipes for herbal soaks for virgin lovers. There were also some medicinal and chemical remedies noted as well. Starsk had to go to some trouble to get the herbs, Hutch thought. That was for my benefit. He knew I'd prefer something natural. Hutch considered his partner's cool, pre-meditated planning. Confident little stud, isn't he?

   Hutch flipped through the books, letting them fall open to passages that Starsky had obviously read multiple times. His partner was a complicated man. It appeared that he could not bear the thought of going into this unprepared. Hutch suspected Starsky also needed to maintain a certain level of control in such an unknown situation. From the beginning of their friendship, even in the Academy, Starsky had a tendency to feel as though Hutch were always two steps ahead of him because of his college background.

   Hutch shook his head. He'd been willing to jump into a sexual relationship with his male partner with nothing more than open arms, an active imagination, and his honest heart. But Starsky didn't have that confidence. Hutch thought about that. With women, his partner vacillated between being aggressively cocksure to being fumblingly nervous. The more attractive the woman, the more interested Starsky was, the more inept he acted. Under all of last night's bravado, had he really been insecure approaching Hutch? Had the books helped shore up his confidence? He'd seemed so sure of himself last night, much more assured than Hutch.

   If he lived to be a hundred, Hutch thought he'd never quite figure Starsky out. Deciding Starsky now had way too much advantage over him, Hutch brushed his teeth, then collected the books and went out to the kitchen, still nude, to make coffee. At the kitchen table, he continued to flip pages while waiting for the brew, and was completely engrossed in the lyrical description of a sex act he'd never even imagined when the phone rang, startling him so much he thought he'd have a heart attack. He dived for the phone before it could ring a second time and wake Starsky up. He wasn't quite ready yet to have his partner catch him in the act of doing his own research.

   "Hello?" he said softly into the phone.

   "Hope I didn't wake you, Hutch," Dobey's voice said.

   "No, Captain, you didn't." He peered at a nearby clock and was surprised to find it was almost noon. They'd actually gotten a good night's sleep!

   "Your partner still asleep?" Dobey asked.

   For the first time in all the years they'd worked for him, Hutch found himself feeling odd that Dobey would just assume they'd be together. But of course, Starsky had told him they'd be spending the night at his place. And the truth was, they spent more nights together than they did apart. Not exactly normal practice for most police partners. But at least their long-time habits would give them a good cover now that they had embarked on this new facet of their partnership. Hutch pulled his mind away from things he didn't need to worry about now.

   "Yeah, Cap, he is," Hutch said. "You need us in?"

   "No, that's why I called. Things are moving slower than I'd like, but that's what happens when you involve the Feds on a weekend. Doubt if we'll need you two till Monday. Wanted to let you know before you came in on your own. Once everything's in place, though, it'll be pretty busy, so catch up on your beauty rest."

   "Thanks for letting us know, Cap'n," Hutch said, meaning it. "We'll be in bright and early on Monday."

   "You and Starsky have a good weekend, Hutch," Dobey bid. "You did a helluva job this week."

   "Oh, yes, sir!" Hutch assured him with the greatest sincerity. "I'm sure we'll have a fine weekend. Thank you, sir." His Captain hung up, just as the coffee finished perking.

   Hutch considered their good fortune as he poured two cups of coffee, flavoring them as they each preferred. Deciding he was ready to beard the lion in his den, Hutch put the coffee pot, sugar bowl, and both cups on a tray, tucked the stack of books under his arm, and carried everything into the bedroom. Putting the tray on his night stand and the books in the bed, he carried Starsky's mug around to his partner's night stand, then walked back to his side. Plumping the remaining pillow against the headboard, he cautiously eased himself down on the bed. He put the stack of books on his lap, making sure the spines were facing Starsky, then proceeded to read and sip. The books were far more interesting than the Sunday paper.

   It took two minutes for the smell of fresh coffee to stir his partner. Following his nose, Starsky turned to his night stand like a bloodhound. Snaking an arm out from under the sheet, he groped for the cup, pulled it to his mouth, took a swallow, then returned it, pulling the sheet back up over his head. Hutch continued to drink and flip pages, occasionally shifting his weight to find a more comfortable position. After a while, Starsky's arm emerged to gather another gulp of coffee. It was only after the third drink that his prone body shifted in the bed towards Hutch, and his curly head partially emerged from under the blue sheet. Hutch glanced over the top of How To Make Love To A Man to find one bleary sapphire eye peering over the bunched-up pillow. It widened slowly as it scanned the book title. Then the eye roved around to take in the stack of books on Hutch's lap. Finally, the lone blue orb traveled hesitantly back to Hutch's face, its expression now wary.

   Hutch smiled brightly. "Mornin' Starsk! Lovely day. Dobey called. We don't have to be in till Monday. There's more coffee when you're ready." He indicated the pot by his elbow. Pausing a moment, he added, as if it were an afterthought, "Oh, by the way," he patted the books, "nice library! Some interesting stuff here!" He grinned cheerily.

   The eyelid closed slowly then sank back into the pillow as the sheet was pulled up over Starsky's curly head. That was fine with Hutch. He had a lot of catching up to do.

   Moments later, a muffled voice mumbled something into the mattress.

   "What was that?" Hutch wondered, lifting the sheet to enable him to hear. "There's no transmitter in that pillow, Starsk."

   "I said," Starsky grumbled, hoisting himself up on his elbows so that the sheet tented over his head like a veil, "wha'd'ja do, toss the place lookin' for evidence of my other lovers?"

   "Not hardly," Hutch assured him mildly. "I already know who your other lovers are. I introduced you to most of them. No, I had a rare moment of neatness. I was putting the lubricant away--after you left it in bed--to keep you from bitching about my sloppy habits. Imagine my surprise to discover the hidden library of Alexandria. It was just a bit of serendipity."

   "What's seren-den-ity?" Starsky groaned. "Seren-pip-ity?"

   "Seren-dip-ity," Hutch said carefully.

   "What the hell kinda word izzat?"

   "It means finding something you didn't know you needed to find without even looking for it."

   "Seren-get-ti to you, too," Starsky mumbled, collapsing back into the pillow. "Weird words before breakfast. I need more coffee."

   "Hold out your cup," Hutch said, offering the pot, and Starsky obliged, then buried his nose in the refilled mug. But Hutch spied him peering surreptitiously at him over the rim. He continued to flip pages.

   Starsky shifted around a moment, then slid out of bed and trundled off to the john. After a few moments of liquid sounds and tooth brushing noises, he emerged, still nude. Scratching his head, then his furry belly, he asked tentatively, "How you feelin'?"

   Hutch tried not to react to his hirsute lover's innocent nudity. "A little stiff," he said honestly. "A little achey. But overall, I feel good. How about you?"

   "Me?" Starsky said, as if surprised to be asked, "oh, hey, I feel great."

   Watching Hutch for a few minutes with a slightly chagrined, slightly amused, slightly intrigued look on his face, Starsky finally clambered back into bed, covered himself modestly with the sheet, then tentatively snuggled his head against Hutch's bare thigh. Hutch glanced over the top of the book at him.

   "When I asked how you were feeling," Starsky began softly, with a winsome expression that Hutch felt was too calculated to be accidental, "I wasn't just checking on your, uh, physical condition. I was wondering--how are you feeling? If you know what I mean."

   "As in--how am I feeling--for you?" Hutch laid the open book across his groin, hoping it would hide the interest stirring there.

   "As in," Starsky asked.

   Hutch looked at his partner seriously. "What would you like to hear, Starsk?"

   "What I always wanna hear from you. The truth."

   Hutch yielded to temptation and stroked the dark head resting on his thigh. "I feel the same way I felt three months ago in that hospital room, only now--I also feel happy. I feel satisfied." Starsky's color darkened a bit, but his eyes told Hutch how pleased that made him. Hutch brushed his thumb over the mole on Starsky's cheek, then slid his fingers into his tangled mop of curls. "To be completely honest, Starsk, I feel complete--maybe for the first time in my life." He watched an enigmatic expression cloud those darkening indigo eyes. "Does that scare you?"

   "No," Starsky said, his voice low but assured. "Why should it? That's a nice way of putting it, Hutch. Complete. I couldn't find the words to say it, but I knew you would. That's the way I feel--complete, like I'd been missing something but I didn't know what. Looking for somethin' I might've never found 'cause I never really knew what it was till now. We're complete. Yeah." Starsky smiled warmly, and that satisfied expression warmed Hutch thoroughly, knowing he was responsible for it. "Mornin' after sometimes changes things. If I was scared at all, it was that things might've changed between us. I can't afford to get shot every couple of months just to keep things right with my partner."

   Hutch pulled his long curls playfully until Starsky winced.

   "So, uh," Starsky muttered, surprisingly subdued, "now that I brushed my teeth, any chance I can get a good morning kiss--or, uh," he tapped the book sitting over Hutch's groin, "am I totally in the dog house?"

   Hutch closed the book and put it aside, then moved the stack onto the floor. Shifting his weight onto his hip, he said, "A morning kiss would be nice."

   Starsky pushed himself up on his arms to meet Hutch's mouth. The kiss was gentle, sweet, friendly and brief. A partner's kiss more than a lover's.

   "Mmmm," Hutch sighed. "Good morning."

   Starsky smiled and Hutch saw that telltale glitter in his eye. He moved in for another kiss, and Hutch didn't resist. This one had some tension behind it, a bit of hunger. Their tongues grew more serious in their slow dance. Hutch's arms slid around Starsky's chest and drew him close.

   They separated for air. "Good morning to you, too!" Starsky murmured huskily.

   Hutch chuckled and went after his lover's mouth, taking Starsky by surprise. He gasped and responded, slinging an arm around Hutch's neck. As Hutch moved aggressively into the parted lips, he lifted Starsky slightly and shifted his weight, moving smoothly onto his knees, Turning, he manipulated Starsky, bearing him onto his back so that as they settled onto the bed, Hutch hovered over him. When he pulled his mouth away this time, Starsky looked up dazed from the mattress, his eyes glazing with that lovely, lusty look that Hutch was already addicted to.

   "Wow!" Starsky muttered, licking his lips. "You must've gotten a real good night's sleep!"

   Hutch kissed him again, lightly this time. "That, and your reading material has been very inspiring. You know, I never did finish seducing you last night. Somewhere along the line, something distracted me. But that's all right." He kissed Starsky again, softly but surely, taking his mouth and feeling it respond. "I've been making plans for you while you slept, Detective Starsky."

   He grinned devilishly. "Wished I'd put the cookbooks in that drawer. Then maybe those plans might include breakfast. Any chance of my getting breakfast in bed?"

   Hutch's smile was positively wolfish. "The way I see it, Detective Starsky, you are breakfast in bed."

   Starsky saucy smile faded as he laughed nervously then swallowed. "Me?"

   "You!" Hutch pounced, taking Starsky's mouth without mercy, swallowing his startled groan as his lips smothered that soft, full mouth. Hutch's long arms enveloped Starsky's slender body, even as his bigger body blanketed Starsky's entire form. Insinuating a knee between Starsky's legs, Hutch forced them apart, making Starsky squirm beneath him. He rubbed his knee up and down the smooth skin of Starsky's inner leg, which caused the Hutch's thigh to brush against Starsky's velvety pendulous sac. Starsky's cock responded rapidly, growing, swelling, nudging Hutch's hip. He shifted cooperatively so that Starsky's stiffening organ could slide comfortably into its natural position. As soon as it did, he pinned it again with his body, so that both rigid cocks could nestle together warmly, erotically. Starsky moaned again as they rubbed together.

   "Hutch! Hutch!" Starsky whispered into his mouth as they continued kissing, tongue-wrestling, rediscovering the taste and texture of each other's warm, wet, sweet-tasting mouths.

   Hutch slid his hands into the dense tangle of Starsky's wild hair and anchored his lover's head in place. Sliding his lips over his partner's cheek, he buried his tongue in Starsky's ear, lapping it, drilling into it wetly, biting the lobe sporadically. Starsky responded frantically, bucking his hips hard against Hutch's rod.

   "How do you do that?" Starsky murmured. "Make me so hot so fast? You get me crazy with just your mouth."

   Isn't he always like this in bed? Hutch wondered, suspecting Starsky was just making the kind of love talk that he thought would excite him. Starsky's instincts were on the mark; everything he said cranked Hutch's blood pressure up notch by notch. "Bet you say that to all your blonds," he whispered back, smiling.

   Starsky shook his head. "Only the ones over six foot," he insisted, then giggled.

   Hutch moved his mouth lower, down Starsky's long throat, tasting his way along his tanned skin. He licked and kissed his way over sharp collarbones, over the hollows there, then nosed his way through the soft fur scattered over Starsky's pectorals. Starsky writhed beneath him, grinding against Hutch, making sparks between them, building the fire.

   Starsky's elegant hands threaded through Hutch's hair. "So soft," he purred. He combed the fine strands with his fingers, and Hutch glanced up to find his sapphire eyes gone dark with love and need.

   Unable to resist the loving caress, Hutch rubbed his head against those palms like a cat being stropped, making Starsky smile. One of his elegant hands slid over Hutch's ear, then the back of his neck, pulling a low sound of approval from his throat. Not wanting to be distracted from his own goals, Hutch rubbed his cheek against Starsky's furred chest until his mouth uncovered the tiny nub of a dark nipple. As his tongue encircled it, Starsky went boneless and sighed, "Yeah, oh yeah, babe."

   Yes, indeed, Hutch thought, as the nub turned hard beneath his lips and tongue. He took it between his teeth carefully, gently biting. Starsky stiffened, his hands gripping Hutch's hair as he bucked up, his erection throbbing hard, rubbing insistently against Hutch's own. He eased the small pain with his tongue until Starsky relaxed again then bit down once more, slowly increasing the pressure until Starsky's head thrashed on his pillow, until his body bucked helplessly. Then Hutch went back to softly licking again. He moved to the other nipple and repeated the teasing with small nips and gentle sucking until Starsky was wild, panting harshly, leaking pre-come between them, gripping the back of Hutch's neck roughly, calling his name frantically.

   Finally, Hutch decided Starsky had hit his limit. It felt odd for him to be able to evaluate that about his partner, but all their years of working together lent him an intimate knowledge of Starsky's reactions that was far more familiar than his usual experience with first time lovers. It lent an odd comfort to their lovemaking that Hutch really enjoyed. This was Starsky, after all. His Starsky. He had to chuckle as he kissed his way down the long sternum.

   "You know me too damned well, Hutchinson," Starsky complained, as if he'd read his mind.

   "Guess I do," Hutch admitted, encircling Starsky's naval with the tip of his tongue. "Don't know everything yet. Not yet."

   "Now, you are scarin' me, Hutch," Starsky blurted.

   He shook his head. "What a sweet liar. I lived in terror of this for three months while you went out and did research. Don't give me that 'I'm scared' stuff. Nothing scares you, Starsky. Not even shopping in a gay book store! Something I don't think I would've had the nerve to do."

   "You're wrong, Hutch," Starsky insisted seriously. "The way you make me feel when you're loving me scares me. No one ever made me feel like this, all out of control, all crazed like this. You make me think I'd let you do anything to me. That scares me a helluva lot more than wanderin' through a book store!" Starsky gave Hutch one of his irrepressible grins. "'Sides, the guys in there were real nice to me--even if they did spot me for a virgin right off."

   "I'll bet! It's a wonder you got out of there alive. How many phone numbers did you end up collecting out of politeness?"

   Starsky had the grace to blush. "Never mind. And who says I took 'em outta politeness?"

   "It better have been politeness," Hutch warned. "Your lover's over six foot, packs a gun, has a temper, and is very jealous."

   "You know, jealousy is a sign of immaturity--OUCH!"

   Hutch had clamped his teeth on a patch of hair trailing over Starsky's stomach and pulled.

   "I already threw the numbers away!" Starsky swore, rubbing the patch of tender skin. "Easy!"

   They both laughed lightly, and Starsky reminded him, "See? I told you we'd be okay if we could just keep laughing in bed."

   He kissed Starsky's abdomen, wanting to get back on track. Still, he couldn't help smiling, his heart felt so full. "Tell me what you want, Starsk. Tell me how to please you. All I want to do is please you, love."

   Starsky smiled, all his joy in it. "I don't have to tell you, you already know. I had to read those books over and over. I stayed awake nights, scared that if it ever happened I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do for you, that I wouldn't be able to please you. I was so worried I couldn't go through with it even if I wanted to. But not you. No, you already knew everything, just like you always do. You just touched me, and all the magic happened."

   Hutch shook his head. "Come on, I want to know. I want you to tell me--tell me what you want from me."

   Starsky swallowed as if suddenly overcome with a bout of shyness. He reached down, traced Hutch's wide mouth with his fingertips. "Take me in your mouth, babe. It's so good when you do me that way."

   Hutch couldn't help but wonder. "That simple thing? How many women have done that for you? Women with a lot more skill than I have."

   Starsky shook his head. "Doesn't matter how many. When you did it, it was all new again and there was nothing simple about it. It was different. So incredible. You knew just how to make it perfect. You knew just how I'd like it. Go down on me, Hutch. Do that for me."

   "My pleasure, lover," Hutch said softly, and descended over Starsky's groin.

   He took hold of the heavy organ, grasping it firmly in his big hand. He felt Starsky tense in anticipation, felt the cobalt eyes watching him, waiting for that first delicious shock of pleasure. Hutch wouldn't disappoint him. He kissed the tip softly, wetly, lapping the bead of honey there. Starsky was impossibly hard, hot to the touch. He smelled of male musk and soap and tasted clean. He tasted like Starsky, a taste Hutch's mouth had already fallen in love with. His tongue encircled the wide glans, toyed with the ridge, and then slid down the shaft, tracing the outline of the prominent veins that snaked over his rigid flesh.

   Starsky groaned and exhaled Hutch's name as he melted into the bed. "Oh, god, stop teasing! You're driving me crazy. Take me in your mouth. Make it good."

   Hutch grinned, loving the desperate tone in Starsky's voice. Obligingly, he parted his lips and slid his solid cock into his mouth. As Starsky gasped in surprise and delight, Hutch enclosed him. The ease with which he did it amazed him considering that it was an act that, a few months ago, he could've only imagined being done to him. Now, the feel of Starsky, the taste, the scent of him filled Hutch up, made his mouth water, made him hunger for this. He took more of Starsky inside.

   Starsky shuddered, went lax and gasped. His hands came up, latched onto Hutch's head, but did not push, just held, petted, touched with a trembling grip. He was loving this, Hutch knew, absolutely loving this.

   Hutch rose up on his knees, bowed over Starsky's groin as if praying. He slid his hands under Starsky's ass, digging his fingers into the lush, soft flesh as if he wanted to pull Starsky completely inside him. He moved his head, slid his mouth up and down his sweet-tasting flesh, relishing the feel of it against his palate and tongue, loving the act, the pleasure it gave Starsky. In his hands the round ass flexed, as his hips bucked, Starsky's body desperately needing to hump. Hutch moaned softly around the mass in his mouth, singing his pleasure.

   Starsky could only pant, breathe his name and clutch his head, his desire white hot, all right there for Hutch to see and enjoy.

   He worked his tongue around and around the weeping glans, sucked hard, then gently, then not at all, just licking, licking, until Starsky thrashed beneath him, wild with pleasure, his need climbing higher and higher. Starsky's chest heaved as he pulled in air in great, gasping gulps, but it was never enough. Gently, carefully, Hutch touched his teeth to the tip of Starsky's glans.

   "Oh dammit, Hutch!" Starsky shouted. "Enough! Enough! Can't take it. Can't take that. Make me come, babe, you gotta make me come!" Starsky bucked wildly, as he begged for release. But Hutch had plans for him and orgasm was not included in them, at least, not yet.

   Losing control, Starsky grabbed Hutch's head roughly, trying to force him down farther on his cock. His need for completion was his only master now. Hutch would have to get hold of the situation quickly before Starsky found a way to get off, leaving Hutch behind.

   Releasing his ass, Hutch grabbed Starsky's wrists and pulled the frantic hands off his head. He kept working the cock slowly, trying to cool his lover down from his frenetic peak. Capturing both slender wrists in one of his large hands, Hutch held Starsky's grasping fingers against his own furred abdomen. Pulling away from the dusky, pulsing cock reluctantly, Hutch moved lower over Starsky's twisting body to run his tongue over the sac which had pulled up hard against Starsky's body, as if to hide from him. He tongued the sensitive orbs as Starsky struggled weakly in his grip.

   "Hutch, come on, don't! You're makin' me nuts! You're doing it on purpose! Oh, please, stop teasing me."

   "Why should I," Hutch taunted, "when it's so much fun? You're delicious to tease, Starsk, absolutely delicious."

   He mouthed the tight sac, then pulled one of the testes into his mouth. Starsky cried out incoherently, flailing beneath him. Carefully, Hutch pulled the sac gently, making him freeze in place.

   "Easy! Easy!" Starsky begged, his back arched, every muscle tensed against the shock of pleasure/pain that Hutch knew was running through every nerve.

   Hutch released the testicle and Starsky sagged in relief.

   "Why?" he gasped. "Why you doin' this to me?"

   Hutch licked his mouth and met Starsky's questioning eyes. "I want something from you. I want you so crazed you'll just give it to me. Want you so hot you won't be able to do anything but beg me to take it."

   "Oh, shit," Starsky breathed, knowing instantly what Hutch meant. "You wanna fuck me?"

   He said it like it was the most alien concept. Hutch blinked, surprised. He released Starsky's hands and sat back on his heels. "Didn't you think I'd ever want you that way?"

   "Hutch, I--I guess I never really thought about it at all," Starsky confessed, rolling onto one hip, and pushing up on his elbow.

   He looked away. He wasn't sure what to do now.

   Starsky spoke softly. "Hey, wait a minute, partner. Try and understand. See, when I realized where things might be going with us, after I got out of the hospital, I went and bought those books. And I went through 'em over and over, not knowing when you might make a move on me. I was scared I wouldn't be ready for you. Scared I wouldn't be able to handle it."

   Starsky touched Hutch's cheek to draw his attention. Hutch could see the sincerity in his fathomless blue eyes. "The last thing in the world I wanted was to turn you off, or get in the clinches and go all cold 'cause I couldn't deliver. But I had to get used to the idea. Most of the time, the only way I could do that was if, when I was reading the books, I thought--well, that is, if I imagined--" Starsky swallowed, suddenly embarrassed, "if I saw me doin' those things to you. It was all too new, too strange. Anytime I thought about you doing stuff to me--it'd be too weird and I'd just turn it off in my head. I never let myself think about what I'd do if--when--you wanted me that way. I mean, you're all man, Hutch. I knew it was bound to happen, but--I just couldn't imagine it. I still can't. I guess it just scares me too much."

   Hutch wet his lips. He was grateful Starsky had been honest with him, but he was unsure of how to proceed. He'd never forced himself on any lover in his life; he wasn't about to start with the most important one he ever had. He struggled to keep his voice even. "Then just tell me 'no' Starsky, and that's the end of it. I'd never ask you for anything you didn't want to give me freely."

   "How the hell can I say 'no' to you, when you do the things you do to me?" Starsky asked, mystified. "How can I say 'no' to you when you give me so much, all of yourself. You'd never turn me down."

   "We're different people, Starsk," Hutch said quietly. "Just cause I might do something or want something doesn't mean you have to. Maybe you'll feel different in the future, when it's not so new. But if you don't, if you never want that, I'll still love you. I'll still want you, however you want me."

   Starsky shook his head, his eyes all soft. "That's just like you, Hutch, ready to settle for so little. You do the same thing with your women, let them set all the limits, taking whatever scraps they can spare for you. You think that's the way I wanna be? When you deserve so much?"

   Hutch felt the color rise in his face and realized there could be a disadvantage in making love to someone who knew you so well. "Starsky, you can't do things in bed out of obligation. It doesn't work that way."

   "You're right about that, Hutch," Starsky agreed. "You can only do things desire makes you want. So, that's it. You've got to make me want it. Just like you said."

   Hutch blinked, confused. "What?"

   "Just like you told me. You've got to make me want you, Hutch. Make me so crazed I can't say no. Make me want you that way. Seduce me. Make me get lost in those gorgeous blue eyes, in the feel of your hands, your mouth. Make me want it, the way I know you can."

   Hutch's mouth suddenly went dry. "You--you trust me that much?"

   Starsky looked dismayed. "You kiddin'? I trust you with my life. You think my ass is worth more to me than that? Sometimes you amaze me, blintz!"

   Hutch smiled gamely, even though he was suddenly a mass of nerves. "Okay, Starsk. If that's what you want. But you got to promise me you'll let me know if it's not working out for you. I want it to be as good for you as it was for me."

   Starsky's eyes bore into him, piercing, seeing everything. "Seems to me, Hutch, there were moments for you that weren't so terrific. But you got through it anyway."

   "That's what's scaring you? The pain?"

   "Hell, no!" Starsky said defensively. "You handled it; I can, too! No, that isn't it at all." Then he looked sheepish again. "It's funny how fuckin' always seems like such a great idea when you're wantin' to do it to somebody else, but suddenly, when it's something someone wants to do to you--it's a whole other thing."

   Enough talk, Hutch decided, and leaned closer to his lover. Gently, he kissed Starsky, feeling him respond instantly. Their kiss was warm and wet, soft with love. Their urgency had abated while they'd worried out their problem. Hutch wanted to find that urgency again, but he couldn't force it. He wanted Starsky fever-hot; that would take time. Hutch decided they would take all the time in the world.

   They kissed for long moments, as Hutch eased Starsky down onto his back again, pressing his long form against him. Their hands roamed as they kissed, enjoying the feel of each other's different skin, the contrast in texture, color, softness. Finally, their arms entwined around their bodies and they hugged, the kissing bringing them together in love and anticipation. Finally, Hutch pulled away.

   "It's who-do-you-trust time, Starsk," he murmured.

   Starsky gulped audibly, his eyes dark, the color almost violet. "I trust you," he whispered.

   Hutch took his mouth again, rolled over him, blanketing him, covering him, letting him know who wanted him, who would have him. He felt the body beneath him tremble.

   Hutch used his mouth as skillfully as he knew how, and kissed his way slowly down Starsky's lean, furred body, tasting, nipping, licking, mouthing every inch of him he could reach. And Starsky responded, his head tossed back, his body taut with delight, his hands grasping, guiding, urging. When Hutch captured his cock and swallowed it, Starsky surged up uncontrollably, crying out his love. Hutch used his mouth tenderly, bringing long moments of pleasure to his straining organ, but refusing to give it everything it wanted. Finally, he left it, too, and trailed his tongue wetly over the strong, sun-bronzed thighs, over the knees, down the calves. Kissing his lover's ankles, he worked his way back up again, bathing each testicle as delicately as a cat would its paws.

   Starsky was panting, tossing his head, clenching the sheets, whispering soft words of desperation and desire. Slowly, Hutch licked and kissed his way back up his dark form until Starsky was whimpering in helpless need.

   Hovering over the twisting body, Hutch took hold of his lover's chin. "Who do you trust, Starsk? Who?"

   "You," he gasped, eyes fastening on Hutch's. "Trust you. Only you. Love you, Hutch, so much."

   Hutch smiled. "Love you, too. I want you. Want you to want me."

   "I do!" Starsky insisted. "I swear I do!"

   Hutch smiled knowingly. "Want me in you?" he asked softly.

   Starsky froze, his eyes widening. "Hutch--?"

   "Sssh," Hutch soothed, feeling the tremor beneath him. "It's okay. Who do you trust?"

   "You." Starsky wet his mouth. "You."

   "Good. Trust me. Roll over, Starsk."

   He hesitated a beat, then finally complied. Starsky's spine went rigid as he settled on his stomach, clutching his pillow as if it were a shield. Violet blue eyes darted back and forth nervously as he looked back at Hutch. That was not the expression Hutch had imagined Starsky having for him in his fantasies. And he wanted that fantasy expression, wanted to see those blue eyes full of lust, full of love, full of wanting--all for him.

   Gently, Hutch pushed dark curls away from Starsky's hidden ear, and slipped his tongue around the rim. Starsky's lids lowered as he leaned into the wet, toying kiss, and he sighed in spite of his fears. As he tongued the ear slowly, Hutch slid a hand over the nape of Starsky's neck, and watched his dark head droop forward, giving him access. He rubbed his lover's neck slowly, smoothly, knowing Starsky loved that touch from him, had always loved it, long before they were lovers. It was a comforting, familiar touch, and Hutch used it to do that now, to comfort his friend. He watched as Starsky's taut shoulders slowly began to relax, watched as the tense body began to ease against the mattress.

   "Trust me, Starsk," Hutch whispered into his friend's ear. "Trust me to love you. Trust me to please you."

   "I trust you," Starsky murmured back.

   Hutch pressed his lips against Starsky's cheek, then slowly kissed his way over the nape of his neck. Starsky buried his face in the pillow, giving Hutch all the access he needed. Cautiously, as Hutch pressed gentle kisses over Starsky's neck and shoulders, he lowered himself over his prone body until he nestled completely against the seductive curve of Starsky's spine. His hardened cock fell naturally between his lush cheeks, and as it did, Starsky's lithe body tensed all over again. He felt Starsky's breath catch and release in a jerky rhythm that spoke of stress, even fear.

   "Who do you trust, babe?" he murmured in Starsky's ear. He felt his lover swallow. "Come on, answer me, Starsk. Who do you trust?"

   There was a breathy gasp, then finally Starsky whispered, "You, Hutch. I trust you." But there was a question in his voice. Hutch felt his lover tremble beneath him.

   Hutch used his hands to soothe Starsky's nerves, petting him with long smooth strokes down his sides, over his flanks, over the side of his ass. In spite of his fears, Starsky responded to Hutch's touch, and his tense body shivered under Hutch's palms. He continued kissing his warm, smooth back, touching his lover slowly, petting him, wanting him to feel loved, cherished.

   In the bright afternoon sun, Hutch noticed the puckered scar on Starsky's left shoulder. He'd never noticed it last night in the candle light, but today it was prominent, the skin pink and new. Gently, Hutch pressed his lips to it, kissing it almost reverently. This moment--their new found love--might never have happened to them but for that. Hutch didn't want to feel grateful that his friend had been shot, had nearly died. His reaction to the blemish on that otherwise flawless back confused him.

   Suddenly Starsky murmured without coaxing, "That's nice, Hutch. So nice."

   That snapped Hutch out of his perplexed reverie and told him his mouth was the key to Starsky's pleasure. Pulling his eyes away from the terrible memento of a terrible evening, he decided to be grateful for the moment, and not question how it had come about. Instead, he kissed Starsky's long spine gently, his shoulder blades, his narrow, muscular back.

   Slowly, Starsky's breathing evened out, and the tension in his body eased. Hutch's tongue licked a wet trail over Starsky's neck, between his shoulder blades, then blazed a trail that ended just above the crevasse of his ass. Hutch kissed the dimples above Starsky's smooth, beautiful rump. He was rewarded with a pleased sigh from his nervous lover.

   "You know that road sign we always see when we go up in the hills?" Hutch murmured.

   Starsky looked back at him, brows furrowed.

   "The one that says, 'Caution: Curves Ahead'?"

   Starsky gave a brief nod, but his expression was still confused.

   Hutch pressed his lips in the small of his slender back, just above his rear. "I think we should tattoo that sign right here, as a warning to the unsuspecting."

   Starsky snorted a laugh and shook his head. "You're crazy, blondie. You know that?"

   "Crazy about you," Hutch said. Gently, he slid his palm over one cheek of his lover's smooth ass. "'Caution: Curves Ahead.' Seems only fair to warn people."

   Starsky's lids lowered as he cuddled into his pillow. "Now who's lyin'? That isn't the sign you want to tattoo there."

   Hutch grinned at the man who knew him too well. "Caught. The only thing I really want to tattoo is--"

   "'Private Property of Sergeant Hutchinson--No Trespassing,'" Starsky finished for him.

   "Don't forget, 'Violators Will Be Shot On Sight!'" Hutch reminded him.

   "You'd need both cheeks for all of that, Hutch!" Starsky said, and giggled.

   Hutch slapped his buttock lightly. "Looks like plenty of canvas to me, gordo!"

   Starsky grinned, then said quietly, "You don't need signs, Hutch. Don't have to mark what belongs to you. I love you, babe."

   A flush of heat burst through Hutch's body and his balls tightened up hard. He wondered if Starsky could get him off just by talking. Maybe someday he'd find out. "Love you, too, Starsk," he murmured, and stroked his smooth ass again. Then, remembering finally what they were about, he leaned over to Starsky's night table and retrieved the lubricant from the drawer.

   As if that brought reality into too great a focus, Starsky turned away from him and buried his face in his pillow again. Hutch parked the lubricant under his right leg where he could reach it conveniently, then once again began kissing Starsky's back. The tension was there again, but not as severe.

   Hutch used his mouth, letting his warm lips and tongue write love messages along Starsky's fragrant skin. His lover's texture was intoxicating, his taste so sweet to Hutch's tongue he couldn't get enough. He was doing this for his own pleasure, he realized, and was grateful that it pleased Starsky as well. He trailed his mouth over one round, smooth cheek, and heard Starsky gasp. His buttocks tightened, only now, Hutch knew, it was a pleasure reaction. He continued kissing and licking the impressive mounds of Starsky's ass, feeling them clench and relax over and over in reaction to his attention. He stroked with his hands as he kissed, fondling the smooth skin, grasping the malleable flesh, enjoying himself incredibly. For months he'd watched that taunting rear being flaunted in front of him in clothing much too tight to house it decently. Now, finally, he could touch and kiss and love it to his heart's content.

   Soon, Starsky was panting again and making small, encouraging sounds. Hutch realized his partner was slowly humping the bedclothes, and that pleased him inordinately. Teasingly, he nipped the underside of his tender rump, and felt a rush of pleasure when Starsky jumped.

   He nipped him again, and Starsky hissed his name, his back going taut. Hutch rubbed both hands boldly over the plush flesh and Starsky moaned, muttering a protest.

   "You said it was mine," Hutch reminded him, nipping him again on the other cheek. "Is it? Is it mine? Or is that just part of the patented Starsky come-on?"

   His lover's head shook too rapidly. "No, babe, I swear. I meant it. It's yours. Just, please, Hutch--?"

   "No, 'please, Hutch,'" he said ominously. "No bargains. No compromise. Is it mine, or isn't it?"

   He could hear Starsky swallow, then he looked back at Hutch. The expression now was all apprehension; still not what Hutch wanted to see. But his partner answered him. "It's yours. Only yours, just like I said. So, do what you want."

   Hutch nodded, wetting his suddenly dry mouth. "I intend to."

   Starsky went back to gripping his pillow.

   Hutch took hold of that delectable ass, grasping one cheek in each hand as he bent to lay a gentle kiss at the top of the deep divide. A bead of sweat traveled down Starsky's spine to pool in the small of his back, and Hutch licked it up, tasting his lover's essence in it. Carefully, deliberately, he touched his tongue tip to the top of the split between Starsky's cheeks. His lover went rigid, but he ignored that as he parted the cheeks gently and let his tongue travel that dark valley.

   Starsky gasped in shock and froze, muttering Hutch's name in surprise.

   Hutch licked his way through this new territory carefully, feeling Starsky's body reacting strongly, shaking, trembling. Sweat broke out under Hutch's palms but he wasn't sure if it was Starsky's sweat or his own. His tongue traveled lower, finally finding the secret port, the hidden entrance to Starsky's body.

   "No, Hutch, no, don't!" Starsky whispered a plea, but when his body didn't try to escape, Hutch ignored him. This was his, he owned it, Starsky had said so, and he was ready to take possession of what he owned. Hutch moved his tongue strongly against the resisting bud of flesh.

   "Oh, god!" Starsky gasped, moving his hips from side to side in a voluptuous slide. Hutch moved with him easily, holding him open, licking him, taking him with his mouth, finally penetrating him gently with his tongue. His lover's musk was strong here; Hutch felt as if he were tasting pure distilled Starsky, and it was making him drunk with need.

   "Oh, babe! Oh, jeez!" Starsky was whimpering helplessly under Hutch's mouth, and he thought he'd never heard anything so erotic. Soon, his rigid buttocks relaxed under Hutch's hands, and Starsky's body followed, growing lax with desire as Hutch rimmed him wetly.

   "Oh yeah, Hutch, yeah, that's so good," Starsky whispered finally, humping gently into the sheets, arching his back to press insistently against Hutch's ever-loving mouth. "I can't believe you. Can't believe the way you make me feel."

   Hutch continued his oral loving, unable to get enough of the exotic taste of his lover. It excited him as much as he hoped it was exciting Starsky, and by the way he was moving, by the sweet sounds he made, Hutch knew it was. He reached for the lubricant with one hand. Without pulling his mouth away from Starsky's sweet ass, he uncapped the tube and captured a small amount on his index finger.

   He was gasping himself now, breathing hard, and struggled to get a grip on his rampaging desire. He remembered how hard it had been for Starsky to keep a handle on his own needs when he was taking Hutch, but Starsk had managed to do it. He could do no less for his love.

   Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth away, kissing a warm cheek wetly as he circled the relaxed anus with his slick finger. Starsky looked back at him, eyes wide, full of anticipation and raw fear. But there was hunger there, too, Hutch could see it. He concentrated on slowing his own breathing and ignoring the demands of his aching cock which wanted nothing less than to simply invade that tight port in one sharp, strong move. But that was impossible, Hutch reminded himself. He could not afford to lose it now, not for one selfish--if glorious--moment. Starsky was trusting him to make it right, make it good. For the first time he realized how much that effort had to have cost Starsky and he admired his control all the more.

   When Hutch's teasing touch caused Starsky's body to relax, he slipped the tip of his finger gently inside his tight port. Starsky groaned loud and spread his legs, which made a shudder run wild through Hutch's frame. He began to seriously wonder if he could keep it together the way he needed to, and began wishing he had a storehouse of baseball statistics to review at critical moments.

   He moved his finger carefully, taking his time, biting his lower lip to hold his concentration. Starsky was writhing under his hand as Hutch moved the finger deeper inside him. Starsky's body was like a banked furnace, so hot to the touch it surprised him.

   "You're doin' it, Hutch!" Starsky gasped. "Damn you, you're doing it! Just like I knew you would!"

   "Ssssh," Hutch soothed his agitated lover. "Doing what, babe?" Was he hurting him, Hutch worried?

   "Makin' me love it!" Starsky cried, clutching the pillow as if it were a lifesaver. "Making me want it from you." He choked off a sob.

   Not enough yet, Hutch thought, even as Starsky's words thrilled him. Fumbling one-handed with the tube of lubricant, Hutch managed to squeeze a quantity into the palm of his left hand. Carefully, he slid that hand, palm up, under his lover's body. Nestling Starsky's rigid rod against that slippery palm, he let his lover strop his cock against his hand.

   Starsky growled and moved hard against the offered palm. Hutch took advantage of his excitement to slide a second finger into his body. His partner cried out sharply, making Hutch fear he'd hurt him, but then he spread his legs wider and drew up one knee to give Hutch better access to him. Hutch knew then it was pure pleasure for Starsky. He kissed a tight cheek, and rubbed his face against that smooth, satiny skin.

   "Love you, Starsk," he swore breathlessly. "Love you so much. Want you so bad." His eyes were shut as one hand invaded his lover's tight heat and the other stroked his stone-hard cock. Starsky was still so incredibly tight. Hutch feared he might be too small for him. He feared so many things.

   "Hutch!" Starsky called, and Hutch opened his eyes.

   Cobalt eyes looked over Starsky's shoulder at him; they were full of longing, liquid with wanting, with anticipation, with need. Just the way Hutch had always imagined they'd be. Wanting him. Wanting Hutch. He shivered.

   "Jeezus, Hutch," Starsky said huskily, "you gonna make me beg for it?"

   Hutch just stared, unable to get enough of Starsky's beautiful face, the raw desire there.

   "Okay, I'll beg," Starsky said. "This ain't no time to be proud. Please, Hutch, it's all yours. You made me want it, so do it. Fuck me, babe. Fuck me good. I never wanted anything the way I want you now."

   Hutch shook his head, realizing if he wasn't careful, Starsky would take over again and run roughshod right over him. He had to maintain his control, for Starsky's sake if no other. "You're still too tight, Starsk," Hutch insisted. "We'll get there. We've got to go slow."

   "Hutch, come on!" Starsky insisted, pushing back against his hand.

   He remembered Starsky's incredible patience last night, and suspected this hot-to-trot lover was more the real thing. But he still couldn't let him decide the course of action here. Cautiously, Hutch slid a third finger inside.

   Starsky's eyes widened as he was filled and stretched. He groaned, his body freezing in place and Hutch felt his dusky erection falter slightly. Hutch moved his hand carefully, sliding in slowly, pulling out with just as much care. He kissed Starsky's spine, urging him to relax, to remember to breathe. Starsky instantly obeyed, trusting Hutch to lead him, and soon his body was back to the state of heightened excitement it had been moments before.

   "Now, Hutch?" Starsky gasped. "Now?"

   "Okay," he finally agreed, still concerned about Starsky's tension. "Lift your knee higher."

   Hutch thought Starsky would never be more beautiful to him than he was at that moment, totally willing, totally vulnerable. Hutch slid over his smooth back, fitting himself to his lover like perfect puzzle pieces. Starsky sighed when Hutch blanketed him as if it this were all he ever wanted or would ever want. As Hutch shifted his hips to bring his cock in contact with the hand still inside Starsky, he was amazed to feel Starsky suddenly relax under him.

   "Come on, babe," Starsky urged softly. "I want you in me so bad."

   Hutch closed his eyes as the enticing words washed over him, shocking him, thrilling him. This was so much more exciting than any fantasy. No fantasy could bring him Starsky's heat, his scent, his very real, tangible desire.

   "Hutch?" Starsky gasped, as he shifted, and the crown of his cock slid against Starsky's anus in the most intimate kiss.

   "I'm here," Hutch reminded him. "I'm here for you. Just let me know. We can stop anytime. I love you, Starsky."

   "Love you, Hutch," Starsky breathed. "Trust you. Only you."

   Slowly, Hutch slid his fingers out as his crown eased inside the partially opened portal. The heat that had enveloped his fingers seemed as nothing compared to the searing fire that swallowed his hyper-sensitive glans. He pushed in gently, hesitantly, but Starsky, already beyond his limited patience, arched up, tried to swallow Hutch in one move. His body fought his heart's desire and clamped down viciously. Starsky grunted in pain.

   "Easy! Easy!" Hutch warned, gripping Starsky's hips with both hands. "You can't rush this, wild man. Gotta take it slow or you'll only hurt yourself. Now calm down. Breathe. Relax."

   Starsky moaned, his back going rigid with pain. Hutch's heart twisted in anguish, in spite of the fire-hot desire coursing through him.

   Stroking his lover's body, he murmured, "Is it too much? Want me to pull out?"

   Starsky managed to shake his head. "No! No! Just--oh, damn, Hutch! How'd you handle it?"

   "Hang on, babe, just hang on. You gotta breathe. Deep breaths." Hutch found the lube by his side and recoated his left hand, then slid it back under his lover. He rubbed the gel slowly over Starsky's crown and the sensations caused a ripple to run through his body. A moment later, his anus yielded and freed Hutch from its torturous grip. Both men sighed in relief and held perfectly still.

   "You okay now?" Hutch asked.

   Starsky nodded. "Yeah. I think. You all right?"

   Hutch laughed lightly. "Oh, I'm fine. You might need to talk to me about the Dodgers in a minute, though."

   Starsky managed a weak chuckle. "Enough comin' attractions. I'm ready for the main feature now."

   "You're still so tight," Hutch told him, as he gently eased into Starsky's body little by little.

   "Feel good?" Starsky gasped, struggling to accept his shaft.

   "Oh, God, yes!" Hutch breathed. "Want it to be good for you, though."

   As Hutch drew back this time, Starsky moaned, "It is, babe. Believe it. It's unreal."

   "So hot inside you," Hutch murmured, marveling at the molten, silken furnace he kept plunging into. "Tight. Hot. Loving me so good."

   "All yours," Starsky reminded him, moving with him now. "You all the way in yet?"

   "Not yet."

   "Damn! There's so much of you, Hutch. You're filling me up so full you'll be in my mouth!"

   "Sweet talker," Hutch murmured, and kissed his cheek. It was happening, Hutch realized, just like he'd imagined, the two of them working in concert to bring them both so much pleasure. Starsky moved under him like the dancer he was, his hips humping smoothly up and down and side to side, fucking Hutch's hand, even as Hutch fucked his ass.

   With his free hand, Hutch gripped Starsky's fist, entwining their fingers. Starsky held on powerfully, as if for dear life. Beneath them, Starsky's cock surged strong and hard, rubbing smoothly against Hutch's slick palm.

   Hutch felt dizzy from the powerful sensations flooding him and wondered how much longer he could resist. "I can feel your heart beating," he murmured against Starsky's ear. "Pounding like a drum."

   "Guess so," Starsky gasped. "Feels like you could just reach up with your cock and grab hold of it, you're so deep in me."

   "Still hurt, babe?" Hutch asked, worried.

   "A little," Starsky said honestly. "But it feels good, too. Incredible. Like you're turning me inside out and making me love it all at the same time. Good for you?"

   Hutch pressed his lips against the nape of Starsky's neck. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. God, how I love loving you."

   "Oh yeah?" Starsky breathed, sounding weary. "Then how 'bout lettin' me have it, huh?"

   "What?" Hutch asked, confused. It was too hard to interpret Starsky-ese and fuck at the same time.

   "When are you gonna let me really have it? You been holding back the whole time. Goin' so slow, so careful. Like I'm gonna shatter if you move too hard. I can take it, Hutch. And I want it."

   Hutch kissed his neck again as his heart twisted inside his chest. "Don't want to hurt you. I'd die before I'd hurt you."

   "You can't hurt me, babe," Starsky promised him. "And I can't hold out much longer."

   "Wanna talk about the Dodgers?" Hutch asked warily.

   "Who're the Dodgers?" Starsky argued. "Come on, Hutch. Take us to paradise, lover. I can't wait no more."

   Hutch shuddered violently, telegraphing his need.

   "Hutch," Starsky whispered, his voice hazy with lust. "Fuck me, babe, really fuck me."

   "Starsk, don't!" Hutch warned, even as his body took over and plunged into the welcoming warmth that reached up to meet him.

   Starsky groaned, and pulled his knees under him, spreading his legs wide for his lover.

   "No!" Hutch protested, fearful of his own blinding need.

   "Yes!" Starsky insisted, and Hutch could do nothing but obey. He moved into the haven of his lover with strong, sure thrusts that increased in speed and power. As he did, he felt something small and round ride under the ridge of his glans.

   Starsky lurched in surprise as he hit it and called out his name loudly. Hutch rode his lover's back, keeping his place so he could find the spot again and began pumping really hard.

   "That's it! Oh, shit, Hutch, that's it!" Starsky told him, taking the punishment Hutch meted out with joy, eagerly meeting every driving stroke.

   Hutch was losing it completely, losing touch with his surroundings, his grip on the now, everything but the sensation of taking Starsky's body and making it his.

   "You're mine now," he said, "really mine!"

   "Yeah. Always. Always yours, Hutch. Oh, jeezus!"

   Hutch pounded into the willing body, forgetting everything but his most immediate need and his possession of this precious man. His teeth found the back of Starsky's neck and he bit down hard. Beneath him the supple body bucked frantically as Starsky cried out, his voice rough with desire. Then suddenly the rigid shaft in Hutch's hand stiffened even more, and hot jets scorched his palm as his lover humped wildly, shouting his name. Hutch pounded into Starsky once, twice, then a third powerful stroke before everything went incandescent. He sighed and felt a rush of sensation as he ejaculated hard into the depths of Starsky's body. He pumped semen deep into his lover, again and again, and felt his eyes fill as it happened, felt tears splash onto Starsky's hair. He didn't know why he was crying, but he felt so overwhelmed that was the only way he could release it all. Coming just wasn't enough. So he wept, pressing his forehead against Starsky's temple.

   Dimly he could hear his lover murmuring his name, trying to soothe his incredible emotional response. "It's okay, Hutch. It's okay. I'm here. I love you. It's okay."

   That seemed too weird to Hutch--wasn't he supposed to be comforting Starsky? He was the one who just got fucked through the floor. Hutch drew in a ragged breath and blinked back his tears.

   Slowly, the two of them eased onto the mattress, settling down, Hutch nestling easily between Starsky's spread legs. They were still joined. Hutch released Starsky's softening organ and wrapped that arm around his lover protectively, possessively.

   "Mmmmm," Starsky purred, still gripping Hutch's hand. "Don't move. Don't get up."

   "I'm too heavy, Starsk," Hutch protested half-heartedly. "You make a great mattress, though." He shifted them carefully so they wouldn't separate, and pulled them over onto their sides, taking the pressure off Starsky. "How's that, better? Still, you need a bath, like the one you gave me. I need to take care of you." Hutch wondered where Starsky had gotten the energy to do all that for him. He felt like he had lead weights attached to his eyelids.

   "Yeah, okay," Starsky agreed, closing his eyes. "We'll do all that in a minute. Just hold me right now. Stay with me."

   Hutch kissed the side of his face. "What'd you think I was gonna do? Roll over, put on my shoes, leave you a ten and then split?"

   "Hey, I'm worth at least twenty!" Starsky muttered wearily. "It'd be just like you to forget your pants."

   "Very funny," Hutch grumbled, kissing his jaw. "You okay, Starsk?"

   "I'm lots better'n okay," Starsky assured him. "That's why I don't want you to move. It's gonna hurt like hell when you pull out, so you'll understand if I'm not rushing things. This is nice, Hutch. You make love so beautifully."

   Hutch felt his heart swell. "You were beautiful to me. You gave me the most precious gift. I love you, Starsk."

   "Love you, too." The two lay quiet for several moments until finally Starsky said, "This is the way lovers are supposed to be, Hutch. You know, with give and take. Uh, like--receptacle!"

   Hutch blinked. Receptacle?

   "No," Starsky corrected himself, "not receptacle. Respectable? No, that ain't right--"

   "Reciprocal?" Hutch guessed.

   "Yeah! That's it. Lovers should be reciprocal. Like partners!" Starsky sighed, obviously pleased with his choice of words.

   Hutch shook his head and smiled at his friend's hunt-and-peck vocabulary techniques. "Are you feeling all reciprocal now, Starsky?"

   "Uh-huh," he agreed as Hutch snuggled against him. "Feel like I found something I didn't even know I needed to find without even looking for it." He grinned. "Seren-zippity-do-dah!"

   Hutch laughed quietly and hugged his lover.

   "But I still haven't had breakfast, y'know," Starsky reminded him,"--in bed, or otherwise. I think I deserve breakfast in bed--after my bath. I figure I earned it, don't you?"

   "How's that?" Hutch asked, only half paying attention. His body was positively humming and he was trying to figure out how he was ever going to have the energy, or the willpower, to leave his delectable perch.

   "You kiddin'?" Starsky asked, in mock annoyance. "I worked my ass off for it!"

   Hutch's eyes narrowed as he looked down into his partner's teasing expression.

   "Uh-oh," Starsky murmured. "Now I'm really in trouble. Your eyes are flashing, Hutch!"

   "For once, you're right, Starsk," the blond warned, and grabbing hold of a soft bit of ass, pinched hard.

   Starsky yelped, but Hutch held him tight, keeping them together.

   "My eyes are flashing," Hutch muttered. "I want five minutes to bask in the afterglow with my lover. I didn't get it last night, so I'd better get it now! You will hold still for five minutes and be quiet."

   Starsky lasted two. "I think we should eat dinner at Giovanni's tonight, Hutch. Don't you? Y'know, to celebrate."

   "Celebrate your getting shot?" Hutch teased. "I thought we did that last night."

   Starsky smiled. "Yesterday you couldn't've made that joke. No, to celebrate us."

   "You're a hopeless romantic, Starsky," Hutch said, kissing his cheek. "Yeah. Let's have dinner at Giovanni's tonight. But let's go early. This way, we can avoid the late-night Mafia crowd--"

   "Yeah," Starsky agreed, "they're so rowdy."

   "And," Hutch continued quietly, "we'll have time later--for dessert." He kissed his lover's ear and felt the body in his arms shiver delightedly as Starsky chuckled and snuggled into Hutch's embrace.

Better get ready, gonna see the light
Love is the answer, and that's all right
So don't you give up, it's so easy to find
Just look to your soul, and open your mind
Crystal Blue Persuasion, Ooooh, it's a new vibration
     Crystal Blue Persuasion--Tommy James and the Shondells