Hostage

Strong hands gripped Starsky’s hips and pulled him down until he was sprawled flat on his back, his wrists still gently manacled over his head. He became riveted to the wicked look in his partner’s eyes. He was unable to keep that panic from creeping into his voice. “Hutch, listen. I understand how you’re feeling, believe me. But just cool your jets for a little while. When we get home…”

“When we get home you’ll go back to playing ‘macho super cop’ the same way you’ve been doing out on the streets these past weeks. I’m tired of it, Starsk. I want things back the way they were… I want the balance… the give and take.” Hutch moved over, straddling Starsky’s waist with his knees as he sat back against his thighs. “And I want you… right here, right now… safe and warm beneath me…”

Story Notes:

The Fix 16 was published in 1996, by April Valentine (In Person Press).

Major thanks to Keri T for all scanning and proofing this zine-published story. Special thanks also to Keri for keeping me focused and on track in all things SH, but most especially the archive. Thanks must also go to Glow for giving us permission to post her previously published stories.

Starsky winced at the sound of gunfire coming from outside the barn. He strained forward, twisting his neck to try and see something through the partially opened door across from him but all that was visible was a clump of trees and a shaft of sunlight. He pulled his arms frantically, momentarily hopeful that he could yank free of the cuffs by sheer force of will. The pain that accosted his wrists and arms reminded him how foolish an idea that was. He remained helpless, bound to the beam by the steel handcuffs, as he kicked out futilely at the mound of dirt and hay upon which he sat.

Another shot, followed by the scurrying of feet and the muffled sound of harsh voices. They were closer to the house than the barn, Starsky realized, which was why he was having so much trouble discerning what was going on. He leaned his head back against the beam, closing his eyes and trying to still his rampant heartbeat so that he could hear better. Some more quick footsteps… the shattering of glass… the slam of a door…some more shouts… and then… finally… there it was… the voice more familiar to him than his own. As he located Hutch’s voice amidst the clatter and the chaos, he felt a momentary twinge of relief. But then a third gunshot followed by a heavy thud solved the problem of his loudly beating heart as it suddenly stilled in his chest.

Hutch?

Starsky focused his entire being into listening, picking through the tumultuous bedlam in search of one particular sound, one voice. Panic gripped his stomach and twisted hard as he was unable to locate it. The frantic activity outside seemed to increase in tempo for a few minutes and then things became quieter. In the lull, several voices became clearer but none was the voice he was listening for…the voice he needed to hear.

Swallowing hard as a tremor passed through him, Starsky pulled once more at the arms that were bound around the beam behind him. Again his efforts proved futile and Starsky screamed out in frustration… and fear.

“Huuuutch!”

As Starsky yanked his arms and continued to kick and squirm in alarmed agitation, the sounds outside the barn door began to bustle again. Brisk, intent footsteps headed towards the barn, picking up speed as they got closer to the door. Starsky inhaled hard, uncertain what to expect when the door burst open with an impatient shove.

The harsh glare of sunlight assaulted his unaccustomed eyes, blinding him momentarily as he blinked painfully. Through the moisture in his eyes he made out the tall, familiar silhouette topped by the golden mane that was glowing brilliantly against the light. Relief and joy flooded him in a rush as the breath he had been holding exploded from his lungs in a low moan.

“Hutch.”

Hutch stood rooted to the doorway, immobilized. For a moment, Starsky wondered if he had been too quick to dismiss his fears. Perhaps Hutch was hurt.

“Hey, are you all right? Geez, I thought they shot you or something. You’re not hurt are ya?”

Hutch continued to stand frightfully still, leaning hard against the door as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. Eyes finally beginning to adjust to the light, Starsky looked searchingly into the face he loved so much. The cornflower blue eyes, always so expressive, spoke volumes now. Exhaustion, fear, disbelief, relief… they were all present, along with something else… something darker. Finally, the frozen lips parted and a hoarse, unsteady voice spoke to him.

“They told me they’d… they’d killed you. Dumped your body down that well out there. We were… just… just calling in for some equipment to…” A long, painful sigh escaped from deep in his throat as Hutch’s eyes closed tightly. “God, Starsk…”

Hutch’s eyes stayed closed for several minutes as he repeatedly took long, deep breaths, one fist still clutching his gun while the other clenched and unclenched methodically. Starsky recognized the familiar battle… the struggle to will the demons away… to regain control of his emotions. Starsky watched in silence, giving his partner the privacy he needed at that moment, yet wishing desperately that he could wrap his arms around him and urge him to let it go. But he knew Hutch wouldn’t be ready to do that yet. Not now. Not here. Not until they were alone.

As though timed perfectly to reiterate their lack of privacy, another figure filled the door frame. Starsky immediately recognized the shorter, darker man beside Hutch as Juan Hernandez, one of the narcotics detectives who had been working this case with them.

“Hutch, did you find him? Is everything all right?”

At once, his partner snapped out of his reverie and slipped quickly back into the facade of the cool, efficient detective, replacing his gun in his holster as he spoke crisply.

“See for yourself.”

Hutch nodded across the barn to where Starsky was sitting, his back against the tall wooden beam, his arms manacled behind him. Hernandez smiled in obvious relief.

“Hey, Davey, man. You had us scared. These guys… they’re crazy, you know. They were saying some pretty weird shit.”

As Starsky watched the color drain from Hutch’s face, he wondered just what exactly they had told his partner to shake him up so much. Even Hernandez had flinched on the words weird shit.

Starsky smiled his most disarming smile in an effort to relax the tension and reassure that he was OK.

“Sorry to worry you fellas but as you can see, I’m just fine. Except, of course, for the very unnatural relationship I’m beginning to form with this beam.”

Hernandez’ face broke into a smile as he laughed lightly. Hutch remained stone faced at his side. It was the shorter man who responded.

“No sweat, Davey. I’m sure one of these bastards has the keys to those cuffs. I’ll go shake them down. Be right back.”

“Thanks, J.J.”

Starsky watched as Hernandez exited quickly from the barn then brought his eyes up to meet Hutch’s. The answering eyes were boring straight into his own… straight into his soul. A tremendous depth of love reflected brilliantly in those eyes as they held and caressed him for several long moments. A person could drown in a look like that. And die a happy man too. Hutch came towards him then, eyes now assaying every inch of him with thorough scrutiny.

“Are you really all right? Did they hurt you?”

Hands followed the path the eyes had taken as Hutch knelt beside him, fingertips sweeping along his body in careful examination. The faint trembling of both the husky voice and the gentle hands told Starsky that his partner had not yet let go of the pent-up fear. He spoke in quiet reassurance.

“I’m fine, babe. I swear.”

Hutch stared at him silently, as though unable to fully believe the words, searching for any trace of contradiction in his eyes. When he found none, he relaxed slightly, shoulders slumping as his eyes again closed and his head hung forward. The torment that his partner had suffered… was still suffering… was clearly palpable. Starsky felt awful about it. It was far too soon for Hutch to have to endure something like this again. He had only been back on the job six weeks since recovering from the chest full of holes Gunther’s goons had pumped into him. Hutch was still raw from the emotional toll of that trauma and now this. But this time he was fine. He had to get Hutch to see that before the introspective blonde became mired in his dark musings.

With a light tone of joviality in his voice, Starsky spoke into the charged silence.

“Hey, I guess that old rabbit’s foot of mine is working overtime. Those jokers didn’t even have time to deal with me. They ran into some kind of snafu with one of their distributors. So they just threw me in here to commune with the hay while they tried to sort out their mess. Before they could get back to me, the cavalry came charging in.”

Starsky’s grin was wide as he finished, but it soon collapsed as it hit the brick wall that was his partner’s face. It became immediately obvious that his attempt at lightening the mood had had the opposite effect. A harsh tension visibly infused the tall blond, stiffening every limb down to the tightly closed fists. The voice that whispered jaggedly through the clenched mouth seemed to be making a concerted effort to stem the rising tide of fury seething just beneath the surface.

“Oh yeah, Starsk. No big deal. All’s well that ends well, right? At least until the next time… until you pull the next stupid stunt and then we can whip out the old rabbit’s foot again and hope it hasn’t run out of magic wishes.”

Hutch stood and moved away briskly then, such force to his actions that it seemed he feared what would happen if he didn’t put some fast distance between himself and the object of his increasing rage. He kicked out viciously at a rusty metal bucket, sending it hurling through the air until it smacked with a loud clang against the splintered old wall. Starsky flinched at the reverberating sound as he tried to find his voice… to speak… to explain. Before he could, the fragile dam containing Hutch’s fury burst, unleashing the bitter wrath in an explosive torrent.

“Damn it, Starsky, how could you do something so stupid! Where the hell was your head?! Did you bother to think at all? No, why think when you can go off half-cocked in some kamikaze attempt to play hero!” Fists clenched, he swung out blindly, making contact with a nearby piece of plywood and sending it flying. His thundering voice rose above the clatter of its fall. “Back-up! The plan called for back-up! You were supposed to wait until it was in place. Instead, you go off with them on your own where nobody can trace you!”

Finally finding his voice, Starsky began to protest, but it sounded feeble even to his own ears. “I had an in with them. They trusted me. If I didn’t move when I did, it would have blown…”

“Trusted you?!” Hutch interjected with caustic incredulity. “Oh yeah. That’s how you ended up like this, right?”

Starsky felt a hot blush burn his cheeks as he squirmed uncomfortably. It was awkward enough sitting here trussed up like a chicken awaiting the roasting pan without Hutch rubbing it in.

“A slight miscalculation,” he mumbled, no longer able to meet Hutch’s penetrating glare.

“A miscalculation that almost got you dead. Did you think about that?!” The voice remained unrelenting. Becoming defensive, Starsky tried to match the steady tone.

“Look, Hutch I understand why you’re mad, but back off! Yeah, maybe if I had things to do over I might do some things differently, but everything worked out right in the end.”

“How do you know that? What about the other officers out there? The ones who had to move on this place before we could get it properly secured?”

An icy chill raced up his spine as Starsky remembered the earlier gunshots… the heavy thud hitting the ground… the one he feared was Hutch. Defensiveness diffused, his voice faltered now as he forced out the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“What happened? Did somebody get hurt?”

Something about the apprehension in his voice mellowed Hutch. He took a deep breath which he let out slowly, the features on his face softening. When he spoke again, he was no longer yelling.

“Benis took a hit in the shoulder but it was only a crease. He should be all right. One of your coked-up buddies is dead. The rest are in custody.”

Starsky exhaled with relief as he leaned his head back against the beam. Hutch paced silently for a few moments, still trying to quiet the anger that had consumed him. Finally, he squatted down in front of Starsky, eyes belying the fear that the fierce outburst had tried to mask.

“If that scum Marco hadn’t been strung out enough to sell his mother for a hit, we would have never known where to find you. Do you have any idea how isolated this place is? They could have… they could have done all the things they said they’d done to you and it would have taken us years to find all the pieces.”

The quiet voice wavered on the last words, the remains of the anger stripped away leaving only the unconcealed pain. Surprisingly, Starsky found himself wishing for a return of the fury. As much as he hated being the target of Hutch’s wrath, it was easier to handle than being the cause of his suffering. He hated nothing more than hurting this man, yet he knew with uncomfortable certainty that his careless actions had done just that.

He forced his guilty eyes to meet the soulful depths of blue as his voice choked out the inadequate words. “I’m sorry, Hutch.”

It was Hutch’s eyes that looked away then, skepticism tingeing his voice. “It seems I’ve been hearing that line a lot lately.”

Starsky cringed, stung by the implications of the simple statement. He was reluctant to face the truth behind the words. Hernandez’ return saved him from having to.

“Here you go, Hutch.” The young cop flipped a key across the barn, which Hutch snagged out of the air with his right hand. “Listen, the coroner and the crime scene guys are going to be held up a while. Things are pretty backed up. Seems today is a busy day for criminals. It might be an hour or two before they get here.”

“You have everything secured out there?” Hutch queried.

“Yeah, those bozos are cuffed and ready for transport and we have five kilos of evidence ready to take back to Metro.”

“Why don’t you take off then? We can keep an eye on things until they get here.”

“Are you sure? I could stay if you want to get Starsky checked out at the hospital or something.”

“I’m fine,” Starsky insisted, “and your partner’s the one who needs to get to the hospital. You should be with him.”

Hernandez smiled gratefully. “Okay. If you guys are sure. We’re ready to roll out there, so I’ll see you back at the station later.”

“Sure thing.”

“Hey, JJ,” Starsky’s voice called to the retreating man. “Tell all the guys I said thanks, huh.”

“You got it. But listen, thanks or no thanks, you’re still gonna owe them all a beer.”

“That’s a promise.” Starsky returned the departing man’s smile and then Hernandez was gone.

There was a flurry of car doors slamming and engines revving outside the barn. Hutch moved toward the door, watching silently as the other cops began their retreat. Starsky remained quiet, trying to give Hutch the time he seemed to need to compose himself. He wasn’t anxious to get back to the strained discussion himself. He preferred to wait until they got home to delve into the unsettling issues. Home. Their home. He smiled at the thought, still awed by the beautiful apartment they now shared. Once they got back there, everything would be all right. It always was when they were home.

Feeling more optimistic about things and eager to buoy Hutch up as well, Starsky called out in a lighthearted voice.

“Hey blondie, ya gonna stand there staring at the sights all day or are you gonna uncuff me? Make it snappy, will ya? My butt’s startin’ to fall asleep. And after that, we’re gonna need to rustle up something to eat. They got any food in that house? I’m starvin’ and if we’ve got to hang around here waiting I sure hope…” Starsky paused, confused by the unreadable look on Hutch’s face as he stood staring at him from the doorway. “What? What is it? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I was just thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to let you loose. It’s easier to keep you out of trouble this way.”

“Very funny. Come on, Hutch. Stop foolin’ around. This isn’t very comfortable you know.”

“No, I guess it’s not.”

Hutch’s expression remained a mystery, unnerving Starsky. He had just begun to worry that perhaps Hutch wasn’t kidding about leaving him like this when the tall blond strode over towards him with the key in hand. Wordlessly, he bent beside Starsky and unlocked the left cuff. Taking the freed wrist into his hands, he began to massage it rhythmically.

Starsky closed his eyes, lulled by the comforting feel of his lover’s touch. As Hutch lifted his left arm up over his head to stretch it out, he sighed comfortably, enjoying the tender attention. He felt his still manacled right arm lifted above his head as well and waited for Hutch to unfasten the other cuff. He was, therefore, quite unprepared when, instead, he felt the cuff snap back around his left wrist. His eyes flew open and he looked confusedly at his hands, which were now cuffed loosely around the beam behind his head.

“Hutch, what the…”

“There. That’s much more comfortable isn’t it?” The blond’s mouth was spread in a self-satisfied grin. “In fact, you can even stretch out now and relax.”

Strong hands gripped Starsky’s hips and pulled him down until he was sprawled flat on his back, his wrists still gently manacled over his head. Yeah, it was more comfortable, his elbows bent near his shoulders to relieve the pressure on his arms, and the cuffs loosened considerably, but that wasn’t the point. A flash of panic ripped through him as he became riveted to the wicked look in his partner’s eyes. He was unable to keep that panic from creeping into his voice.

“Come on, Hutch. This ain’t funny.”

Hutch’s face moved closer to his as a hand began to drift across his chest. The voice that answered him was low and throaty.

“No, it’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.” The persistent hand began unfastening the buttons on his shirt, sliding the material to the side, exposing his chest to the warm, spring breeze. As his right nipple was captured between two fingers, the heated voice moved against his ear. “Does this feel like I’m trying to be funny?”

Starsky swallowed hard as his nipple reacted enthusiastically to the familiar touch. He struggled to find his voice, to try to reason with Hutch before things got out of hand.

“Hutch, listen. I understand how you’re feeling, believe me. But just cool your jets for a little while. When we get home…”

Starsky couldn’t meet those discerning eyes. Hutch was forcing him to confront what a shit he’d been these past weeks since he’d been returned to active duty. Hard-nosed… heedless of risks… refusing help of any kind. He’d had so much to prove and he’d set about trying to prove it no matter what the cost. Volunteering for the worst assignments; charging recklessly into things without back-up; jumping into dangerous situations before taking the time to check them out… playing ‘macho super cop’ just like Hutch said. The worst part, though, was that the role didn’t end with the job. He’d been even worse at home. Driven by a constant need to prove himself, he’d become demanding, unbending, distant, insensitive, overly aggressive… he’d turned a mutually dependent, caring, trusting relationship into unbalanced, guarded strife. He hadn’t been totally unaware that he was doing it, yet he hadn’t seemed able to stop himself. Vulnerability and dependence had been constant companions during the long road to recovery. He found himself repelling them now with a desperation that bordered on extreme. Hutch had been infinitely patient throughout, but it was obvious that patience had been exhausted. This had been too close a call.

His face flushed with shame, Starsky forced himself to meet his partner’s eyes. “Look, Hutch, you’ve made your point. I’ve been a real asshole lately. If we could just…”

But Hutch was not listening to him. His hands, and soon his mouth, were pressing hard against Starsky’s bare chest, stroking and licking the flesh with unabashed zeal. A light-headed rush passed through Starsky as his body continued to crave what his mind was still rebelling against. He heard the low moan escape his lips despite his efforts to quell it. Hutch looked down at him then with a pleased smile, interpreting the unintentional response as an invitation. Starsky hurried to set the record straight.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that. It just slipped out. Come on, Hutch. You’ve had your fun… I’ve learned my lesson… now let me up from here!”

Slowly, Hutch got off of him but the provocative smile never faded from his lips. He held the key up to Starsky’s view then set it down on an old wooden bench a few feet away in a long, deliberate motion.

“You’re wrong, partner. I haven’t even begun to have my fun yet.”

“Hernandez! Benis! Cooper! …any of you guys out there? Help!”

His anxious plea was answered only with a delighted chuckle from his captor.

“They’re all gone, Starsk. Nobody but you and me for hours…” He began to slowly strip off the light blue windbreaker he was wearing, “…out here in an abandoned, deserted farm…” The shoulder holster was unfastened and removed, laid down gently on the bench beside the key. “…miles and miles from civilization…” One hand began to unbutton the cotton shirt, “…no one around to hear your screams…” The shirt was languidly peeled down off the muscular shoulders and arms, “…of course, don’t let that stop you.” Hutch moved near him again as his voice dropped to an enticing whisper. “You know how much I love making you scream.”

And you know how hot it gets me when you talk dirty to me, you bastard.

Starsky found his eyes drawn to the firm, creamy white chest that he so loved to touch. Realizing he couldn’t only reminded him of his helplessness, renewing his protest more feverishly.

“You’re going to hear screaming like you ain’t never heard before if you don’t get that damn key and open these cuffs!” The words were intended to sound threatening, but the moment they were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Hutch grinned like a Cheshire cat, the maddening hands returning to his exposed chest.

“I’m counting on it,” was the smooth reply before both nipples were captured and manipulated with just the right pressure to send him soaring. His breath caught in his throat, resulting in a jagged moan, which was not lost upon his tormentor. Hot breath moved against his ear in smug retort. “That’ll do for a start.”

Starsky snapped his head away as far as he could in self defense. His disloyal body was already responding way too easily to his accomplished lover. The last thing he needed was that skilled tongue anywhere near his ear. Hutch was well aware of the power that had over him and he didn’t need any more ammunition.

Reasoning and threatening had gotten him nowhere. Starsky decided to fall back on outrage, doing his best to fill his voice with indignation.

“Listen, Hutch, that’s enough! I’ve had it with this game! If you think this is some kind of turn-on for me, you’re wrong. I don’t like it and I want you to stop this shit now!”

For a brief moment, he seemed to have gotten through. Hands and mouth retreated from his body as the smile waned from Hutch’s lips and blue eyes looked searchingly into his. Starsky prayed that his own eyes reflected the conviction he had tried to put in his voice but he feared they would ultimately betray him. As it turned out, another part of his body beat them to it.

Hutch’s hand moved lightly down his chest, sliding across his belly to his crotch, halting against the tell-tale bulge that was rapidly forming there. The smile immediately returned to his face as his eyes brimmed with renewed confidence and excitement.

“Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

Furious at his traitorous body, Starsky hollered out in frustration. “Don’t start that Chaucer mumbo-jumbo.”

“It’s Shakespeare,” Hutch laughed as he flattened his palm against Starsky’s straining organ.

“Yeah, you want Shakespeare. I’ll give you Shakespeare. ‘To be or not to be’… and you’re not gonna ‘be’ for very long if you don’t get offa me and let me out of here.”

Unfazed, Hutch moved his other hand down to unfasten the leather belt while he continued his stroking motion.

“That’s good, Starsk. I’m glad to see you’ve been reading up on your Shakespeare. Do you know what play that quote is from?”

“Quote this!” Starsky roared as he kicked out fiercely at Hutch, toppling him over onto the ground. Sure that he had finally made his point, he was caught off guard by the condescending snicker.

“My, my, aren’t you the feisty hostage.” Hutch got back up and moved closer to him. “Maybe they should have tied your legs, too.” He grasped Starsky’s thighs firmly and pressed them into the ground, exhibiting both his strength and determination. His eyes bore into Starsky’s as his cool voice intoned, “Maybe I should.”

There was just enough edge in Hutch’s voice to make Starsky believe that he might actually do it. His own voice filled with indignation. “Don’t you dare!”

“Well then, maybe you’d better think twice before you kick me again.”

Starsky had to bite his lip to keep from voicing the sharp retort that was forming in his mouth; it would have only gotten him in more trouble. He was fast running out of options, with both his lover and his own body conspiring against him. He pulled futilely against the cuffs as he strained to lift his back and head off the ground.

“Damn you, Hutch, when I get out of these cuffs, so help me…”

The remainder of his tirade was drowned beneath the hungry mouth that captured his. Hutch’s weight stretched out on top of him pressing him hard into the ground, pinning him beneath the warm, smooth chest that melded with his own. Demanding lips and tongue took control of him while the hard bulge of Hutch’s crotch rubbed against his own. He tried to pull his mouth away but his head was grasped on both sides, holding it in place, forcing him to accept what was being offered.

The sensations were fast overwhelming him: the hungry passion of Hutch’s skilled mouth, the rhythmic grinding of pressure against his eager cock, the teasing hand that strayed down to roam his chest, tickling and pinching his nipples in the most erotic way.

Damn him. He always knows just how to rev me up. Starsky often thought of Hutch like one of those classical painters, the kind who could take an empty canvas and bring it to life with sweeping strokes and creative flair. Starsky was like that canvas, being filled with color and light, burning with vivid intensity under the skilled attentions of his knowing artist.

When the adroit mouth finally released his, leaving it plundered and throbbing, he gasped for breath. The respite only lasted a moment, however. Soft, wet lips moved against his ear, a knowing tongue thrusting inside with an imperious swirl. Starsky knew then that the fight was lost; not that he could even remember anymore the reason he had been fighting in the first place. An icy hot tremor coursed down his spine, goosebumps erupting across every inch of his flesh as his head dizzied. The tongue continued to thrust in and out of his ear, followed by periodic nibbling around the lobe and shell. The incessant lapping and biting increased in tempo, promising to slowly drive him mad.

His cock was simultaneously being kneaded and prodded through the thick denim of his jeans, hardening even more until the pressure of it against the unyielding confines of his pants was becoming agony. He struggled to find his voice… to put enough coherent thoughts together to actually form words.

“Please…Hutch…hurts…”

“What hurts, babe? This?” His cock was squeezed tighter then, ripping a frustrated growl from his throat.

“Hutch!”

He was sure he heard a self-satisfied chuckle against his ear before the torturous mouth released it and started to move down his body, speaking between the trail of kisses that was being blazed across his neck and chest.

“I could see how that must be pretty uncomfortable… there’s never much room in those pants to begin with… and now… what with things expanding so rapidly and all…”

Following the trail of his mouth down Starsky’s body, Hutch was now lying against the denim-clad thighs, his chin nestled atop the painful bulge as his fingers clasped the waistband of the worn jeans.

“I’d really like to help you out, but I don’t know what you want. I mean, I tried taking your pants off before but you attacked me.”

Hutch slid his hands down, surrounding the blazing erection as he began to squeeze and strop it in a slow, circular motion. Starsky swore frantically as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

“Hutch, you’re killin’ me!”

“You want me to stop? Is that what you want?” Hutch removed his hands totally from the needy flesh, sending an ache of abandonment through Starsky’s loins.

“NO!”

“Well then, you’re going to have to tell me, David. What is it you want?” A mouth closed over the denim, biting through it with a teasing finesse that sent Starsky soaring. “Say it. You have to say it or you’re not going to get it. Say the words, David.”

Gladly! his frenzied mind screamed. But wasn’t it only a few minutes ago that he was protesting so vehemently? Now he was ready and willing to beg for it. Caring not a bit about the incongruity, Starsky heard his desperate voice crying out.

“Touch me, Hutch! Please! Your hands… your mouth… anything you want… I don’t care. Just let me out… please… I need your touch so bad… I can’t take it anymore… please…”

When Hutch moved off of him and stood up, Starsky felt his heart stop. Games were one thing, but how could Hutch be so cruel now after he’d reduced him to begging like that? Some of his hurt and disillusionment must have shown on his face because Hutch’s eyes grabbed his immediately and held them gently while he reached across to retrieve his jacket. His voice was crooning as he made his way quickly back to Starsky.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’ll be right with you, love, I swear. Just hold on one second.” He quickly dumped the contents of the jacket pockets onto the floor then reached to grasp Starsky’s hips. “Come here, raise up a little. That’s it.”

Starsky lifted his hips, watching with bewilderment as Hutch slid the jacket beneath him. His confusion cleared seconds later when his pants and briefs were quickly drawn down, leaving his bare buttocks pressed against the smooth, cool fabric of the jacket rather than the hard, dirty, hay-strewn ground. Starsky smiled warmly as Hutch pulled off his sneakers, then stripped the clothing completely off, laying it under his bare thighs.

“You’re way too considerate to be playing ‘bondage master’.”

The smile Hutch gave him was tender and loving despite the playful words that tried to sound contrary.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

Hutch planted his hands on either side of Starsky’s hips, bracing his weight on them as he hovered over his lower body, mouth just out of reach of the straining cock. Ever so slowly, he stretched out his tongue, placing feather-light strokes upon the tip of the heated flesh.

A ripple of pleasure tore through Starsky. It felt so good to finally be touched… to feel Hutch’s tongue against his pulsing groin. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He thrust up emphatically, trying to get his cock into the elusive mouth. But Hutch moved his head out of reach, easily deflecting the futile attempt. He clutched Starsky’s hips and held them firmly in place then re-started his torture… brief, wet strokes teasing and titillating but refusing to gratify. Starsky groaned in frustration as the wicked tongue gently circled the head of his cock, then slid down the underside, leaving a hot, wet trail along the throbbing vein. When it darted along the surface of his balls, Starsky’s head bent back and his throat opened in a strangled cry.

“Huuutch!”

His tormentor merely smiled before returning to his objective. Starsky yanked at his arms with all the strength he had left, desperate to break free from his bonds and tangle his hands in those silky blond locks, wanting to pull them forcefully down until he could shove his cock hard into that devious mouth. He heard his voice, strained and hoarse, bellowing out into the otherwise silent barn.

“I take it back… You’re not considerate at all… you’re a sadist… you’re… you… you fuck!”

The moist tongue moved against his anus then, darting in and out in an agonizing rhythm before the confident voice answered, “Oh, I will. Patience, lover. Don’t rush me.”

The tongue burrowed inside him then, snaking along the tight, hot canal in a journey meant to undo what little grasp he had left on reality. Starsky felt his thighs trembling against Hutch’s hands as he was opened further to allow for greater access. And then the assault began in earnest. Hands… lips… tongue. Stroking… probing… enflaming. His cock… his balls… his ass. Separately and all at once. Again and again. All too much, yet none of it enough.

He kept hearing his own voice speaking… yelling… begging… but he had no idea what words he was forming. He wasn’t aware of much of anything except the pleasure of arousal and the torture of denial.

Somewhere in the fog he felt his thighs being pushed further apart and held firmly in place. Slowly, he became aware of how totally incapacitated he was… his arms tethered to the beam, his legs held firm by an unrelenting weight, his body and head weak and dizzy from passion and need. He managed to use what little strength he had to pull open his heavy eyelids. And there was Hutch, hovering over him, impassioned blue eyes raking every inch of his flesh. The familiar face was somehow mysterious in its mixture of untamed lust, arrogant possessiveness, and blatant desire.

Aware of how he must look laying there, quivering with arousal, bound and naked but for the shirt that clung only to his arms now, Starsky felt his cheeks blush. Never before had he felt so vulnerable or exposed. Yet somehow, the feeling wasn’t frightening or disturbing. Not when he looked into the adoring eyes that were combing across him in fervent reverence. And he knew full well that those eyes could see it all… there was nothing he could hide from them, as the smoky voice quickly confirmed.

“Look at you. Christ, you’re gorgeous. I wish I had my camera. You look so… you’re so turned on… you’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Starsky knew he didn’t need to answer… didn’t have to speak the words to the lover who knew him so well… read him so easily. He was certain his face and eyes were saying it all for him. I’m yours, Hutch. You know it. I know you know it. I can see just how turned on you are because you know it. Take me, Hutch. Take me all the way. Own me the way only you can. Possess me. I can’t fight you. I don’t want to fight you. I need it as much as you do.

Starsky watched through glassy eyes as Hutch’s hand fumbled on the ground amidst the discarded contents of his jacket. He picked up a small tube of hand lotion that Starsky recognized. It was the one he had gotten as a free sample and never bothered to remove from his pocket. Wrenching the cap off and tossing it to the ground, he squeezed the liquid into his hand. With his other hand, he unfastened his pants and yanked down his zipper. Eyes locked with his lover’s, he removed the golden, straining cock from the confines of his pants, which dropped midway down his thighs as he began to smooth the cream along the formidable length. Starsky watched, mesmerized, anticipation causing his pulse to go haywire. The tube was squeezed once more and then the slick fingers were inside of him… coating him… stretching him… preparing him.

Even in his delirium, Starsky knew he was ready… more than ready. Yet Hutch continued to work the fingers inside of him for what seemed like an eternity. Clenching his muscles tightly around the merciless digits, Starsky hoped to more fully communicate his need. Shit, Hutch… please… now… can’t take it anymore. You’ve got to be hurting as bad as I do… stop holding back.

Another string of endless minutes passed before the fingers were finally withdrawn, replaced by the tip of Hutch’s cock, which pressed urgently against his eager entranceway. Yes! Oh please, yes! Starsky strained to push himself against the pulsing shaft, wanting it all now. But still he was denied. So near and yet still so far away.

His frantic eyes searched his lover. He could see the yearning there… the hunger that seemed to rival his own… yet still he held back, wanting… no needing something else… something… What, love? Anything, please… tell me.

A demanding voice answered his unspoken plea. “Say it! I want to hear you say it.”

So that’s what you’re waiting for. Total surrender. Hey, no problem. You’ve had that all along.

“Take me, Hutch! Take me now… please. I can’t wait another second…! need to be yours… Make me yours, lover.”

His vehement plea earned him what he had been waiting for as Hutch pushed forth to consume him at last.

The impalement was slow despite Starsky’s efforts to hasten things along. But Hutch would not be rushed. With that steely control that Starsky had always marveled at but could never match, he prolonged the joining of their bodies one deliberate inch at a time.

Seconds, minutes, hours. Time lost all meaning. Starsky had always been just this… an empty vessel waiting for his lover to claim him fully… fill him up… bring him to life. Only when the golden lance was fully buried inside of him, did he remember how to breathe. He could remember everything then… who he was… why he existed… what made him whole. Only like this, joined with Hutch in this intimate bond, could he locate the true center of his being.

He was succumbing to his lover now… accepting… giving in… abandoning himself fully. Only with Hutch had the surrender ever been so complete, so consuming. Hutch was not just inside his body but inside his soul. Hutch was the air that filled his lungs, the blood that coursed through his veins. He was light and warmth and music. Starsky struggled to follow… to follow the tempo that pounded inside him… the tempo that pumped his manhood relentlessly, forcing him to give even more of himself. And he gave it willingly. All that he had, all that he was, belonged to Hutch.

He felt his unresisting thighs lifted up above the broad shoulders, arching his hips higher off the ground, opening him so that he could be taken more fully. The rhythm changed then as the saber that owned him began a pattern, dragging slowly from his body, almost releasing him fully before plunging forth to devour him again. Each time it returned to him, it sought and found the precise point inside of him that only it controlled. He danced to its whims like a marionette as it jerked his strings over and over and over.

Flesh steaming… pulse hammering… breathing labored… body quaking… he was sure he could take no more. But the voice that called to him somewhere beyond his frenzy commanded him, “Not yet!” and he obeyed it. How could he not? He was but a hostage held captive in a way that had nothing to do with handcuffs or bonds. This was a bondage born of the most paramount love and devotion and he surrendered to it wholly, body and spirit.

“Yours, Hutch… only yours… forever…”

For a brief moment, he thought he felt the steely control falter at his ardent cry. Searching the eyes of the lover who possessed him, he couldn’t be sure if the tears he was seeing were his own or Hutch’s. It didn’t matter, really. They were one now.

And then, at once, everything became more urgent. Thrusts; deeper, faster. Strokes; tighter, more insistent. He was slipping again despite his efforts to hang on. Please, Hutch. Let me go… can’t… too much… too much! But still he denied himself. Somehow, he held on, certain that he was perched on the edge of insanity. Just when he knew he had taken all that he could, his masterful lover finally released him.

“Do it, David! Come for me. Come for me now. Give me all you got.”

A thunderous shout… did that come from his throat?… and then he let go, acquiescing to the power that commanded him… claimed him. The power that engulfed him and opened him… drained every drop of his essence from him. He was out of control and the intensity of it could almost be frightening. But there was nothing to fear… of that he was certain. He could never fear when those strong, familiar hands held him secure… soothed him… demanded everything he had to give yet replenished it over and over. He yielded to those hands… that body… those eyes… to the triumphant organ inside of him. He gave himself over freely and willingly as his body rocked beyond his control. Again and again and again… days passed… years… and still he shuddered… lost… lost in it all… his only awareness that he was not alone… that his soulmate shuddered inside of him… exploding in endless waves that matched… maybe even surpassed… his own.

When the raging storm finally began to dissipate, it left him trembling in its wake, too weak to move so much as one muscle; barely enough in him to remember to breathe. His last conscious thought was a profound awareness of being both emptied and filled. And then the blissful darkness overcame him.

Wakefulness came back in stages. He drowsily realized he was in a different, yet comfortingly familiar position; on his side, locked in his lover’s sheltering embrace, his face pressed against the sleek chest as the intimate echo of the precious heartbeat sang in his ear. Something damp and soft was being smoothed across his face, cooling the heat there and freshening the tired skin. As he became more aware, he realized the rest of his skin felt similarly cleansed.

With some effort, he pulled his eyes partially open. He recognized the surroundings of the dingy barn. There was a pail of water close to him that wasn’t there before. The hand that was soothing his face reached to drape the cloth over the edge of the pail then returned to stroke softly through his hair. Starsky closed his eyes again moaning into the lulling caress, reveling in his sanctuary, reluctant to let it go.

Patient hands petted him, eased him, waited for him. Only when the need to look into the eyes of his lover overcame the quiescence did he lift his chin and open his eyes again. The sight this time was much more beautiful; shining crystal blue eyes looking down at him from a face bathed in tenderness. The sensuous lips curled into a smile at the sight of his now opened eyes.

“Hi,” Starsky muttered softly, losing himself in that gaze.

“Hi, yourself. Welcome back.”

“How long have I been gone?”

“Only about fifteen minutes.”

Starsky glanced around again, noting that in addition to the pail and cloth, the red and black plaid blanket from Hutch’s trunk had appeared on the scene as well and was wrapped around his freshly cleansed body. The thoughtful, gentle care removed any chance that Starsky would awake to feel awkward from the unbridled encounter. Instead he felt safe and treasured. He spoke with affection as he motioned towards the blanket and pail. “You’ve been busy.”

“Just got a few things from the car and the house,” Hutch shrugged. “Wanted to make you more comfortable. Here.” He reached to his side and lifted an open bottle of soda to Starsky’s lips. “Thirsty?”

He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was until he saw the liquid in front of him. Reaching a hand up to take hold of the bottle he noticed, with a slight twinge of something that felt like disappointment, that his arms were free. The cuffs that had held him ‘hostage’ were gone, replaced by some strips of gauze that were wrapped around his scuffed up wrists. The gauze must have come from Hutch’s car as well. All the circulation had not returned to the freed limbs, however, and his hand began to shake as he reached for the bottle.

“It’s OK, I got it,” Hutch said as he pressed the bottle against Starsky’s lips. The curly head tilted back and accepted the cool liquid as it slid down this throat, allowing Hutch to replenish his depleted fluids as he had replenished everything else. Instinctively, Hutch moved the bottle away at just the precise moment that Starsky had had his fill. Then he lifted it to his own lips, wrapping them around the exact spot that Starsky’s mouth had just touched. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on Starsky, who watched in a hypnotic gaze as the silky throat contracted with each swallow. Though his own throat was no longer dry, his voice came out hoarse when he spoke.

“You’d better be careful. You’re gonna get me going all over again.”

Hutch dragged the bottle slowly from his mouth, faint droplets of soda glistening on his lips as they smiled in feigned innocence. “What’d I do? I was just drinking.”

“Oh yeah. Just drinking. Kinda like the way you just do everything… walk… breathe… sit… stand… smile… all so innocent yet all so effective at driving me crazy.”

“You’re just drunk on afterglow.”

The words were an attempt to be dismissive, but the eyes told a different tale. The look Starsky saw there reminded him that it had been far too long since he’d sweet-talked this man in that mushy, flirtatious way he adored.

“Oh, most definitely. But just because you just ignited every cell of my body and blasted me right out of the solar system doesn’t mean that the other stuff I’m saying isn’t true.” He lifted his hand, which trembled now from more than lack of circulation, and twined his fingers into the soft blond locks. “And it doesn’t mean you couldn’t do it again in a second with just one of those looks of yours.”

Starsky’s mouth sought Hutch’s then, finding it and invading it with a hungry flourish. He located the responsive tongue and drew it into his own mouth, feeding on it as though it were his lifeblood, which perhaps it was. When he finally released it, Hutch gasped breathlessly, his own hands now trembling against Starsky’s cheeks.

“Geez, Starsk… what am I going to do with you?”

Starsky donned his most devilish grin as he responded in a provocative tone. “That’s an easy one. I’m your hostage, remember? You’re supposed to pick me up… carry me out of here… take me back to your lair… and ravish me all night long.”

“Really?” Hutch mused, swallowing hard, his hungry eyes burning into Starsky’s.

“Oh yeah,” Starsky responded weakly, moistening his lips expectantly.

Hutch’s mouth started to descend towards him and Starsky’s fell open in surrender. But at the last second Hutch pulled away with a pained sigh, the inner struggle reflected in his eyes.

“There’s just one small problem with your plan. The crime scene team… the coroner… they should be here any minute.”

“Huh? Who?” Starsky asked, genuinely confused for several long minutes. When realization dawned he was amazed at how easily he had forgotten it all… the case… the fact that they were still at the crime scene… the reason they had been waiting… all of it. When it did come back to him, the profound disappointment was evident in his voice. “Oh, that’s right.” Hutch’s features softened as he released a small laugh, obviously amused by Starsky’s ability to so easily forget such ‘minor details’. “Hey, what do you expect? I told you I don’t think very straight when you’re lookin’ at me like that.”

“Well, you’d better start thinking about getting dressed. I don’t think those guys are prepared to find you in here in all your magnificent glory.”

“What’s that suppose to mean? Ain’t nothing wrong with the way I look. It’d probably make their day to catch a look at such a gorgeous specimen.”

“Yeah, it might. But it’s not going to happen.” Hutch grasped his upper arms proprietarily and pulled him tightly against his chest. “All that gorgeousness is for my eyes only, got it!”

The fire that flashed behind those baby blues reminded Starsky of the way Hutch had looked at him right before he had taken him. Stirred by the intensity, Starsky trembled in the strong hold, whispering the words that had earlier blown Hutch away.

“Yours Hutch… only yours.”

The kiss that consumed him then threatened to destroy all plans of putting their passion on hold. But again, Hutch found his self control… although from where a dazed Starsky didn’t know. Releasing him at last with obvious reluctance, Hutch groped about until he found Starsky’s discarded jeans beneath them.

“Here… we um… we’d better get you dressed… remove some of the temptation.”

But as his hands smoothed down Starsky’s hips and thighs, the smaller man groaned in unsuppressed longing before grabbing the pants in his shaky hands.

“You’d better… better let me do this… I mean if you’re serious about removing temptation and all… your hands on me right now ain’t exactly helping matters.”

Hutch nodded his agreement though his body seemed loath to move away. Finally, however, he did, standing up slowly while scanning the ground for his shirt that lay in a ball a few feet away.

Exhaustion coupled with the newly stirred yet submerged arousal made Starsky’s task of getting dressed a prolonged one. He fumbled with uncoordinated ineptness while Hutch effortlessly drew on his wrinkled shirt. His minimal re-dressing now complete, Hutch sat down on the wooden bench to wait.

Still dressing, Starsky watched with apprehension as his lover’s eyes roamed across the barn, his features growing solemn as he became lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was troubling him. The reminder of the case… the jolt back into reality had reopened the wounds.

Fingers shaking as he grappled with the buttons of his shirt, Starsky cleared his throat uneasily. Something had to be said… to be confronted… the only problem was coming up with the right words. Fleetingly, he thought about avoiding it altogether, just heedlessly ignoring the topic as he had been doing for weeks. But he couldn’t do that any longer. It would be a betrayal of all the openness and trust and vulnerability they had just shared during their lovemaking. Feeling more naked than he had before he had dressed, Starsky forced his voice forward, not surprised when it came out small and unsteady.

“Hutch… I want to apologize… try to explain.”

“You don’t have to,” the undemanding voice replied. Hutch was letting him off the hook… making things easier again. The swell of love that burgeoned inside of Starsky gave him the courage to go on.

“But I want to. I need to.” Starsky paused, gathering his thoughts before plunging ahead. “When I got shot… almost dying like that… being so helpless for so long… having to fight so hard to come back, not knowing if I ever would… it was just so tough… it was…”

“Hey, I was there, remember. You think I don’t know how it was for you?” There was no accusation, just simple understanding. Just as there had been through it all.

“I know you know. You were right there with me through all of it. I wouldn’t have made it without you… and when I finally did make it back I felt like I had so much to prove… to the force… to myself… and to you. I wanted you to be proud of me… and to know you could depend on me again…”

“I never stopped depending on you, don’t you know that?” Hutch’s voice cracked slightly from the growing emotion. “You’re the reason I get up in the morning. You’re what holds me together when everything feels like it’s falling apart. And as far as being proud of you… damn it, Starsk! I’ve never seen anyone with your courage. The way you fought back… the way you never gave up… You never had anything to prove… not to anybody… Sure as hell not to me.”

“I see that now. It’s just that… well, you know me… things just got a little out of whack there for a while… I just needed some time to deal with all that shit.”

“Starsk, you can have as much time as you need to deal with whatever you need to… I’ll understand… I’ll be here, you know that. But I can’t… I can’t sit back and watch you take crazy risks… do things that can get you killed… Please don’t ask me to do that anymore… I just can’t, Starsk!” The unsteady voice broke then, shattering something inside Starsky as he heard the anguished sound. He crawled over towards Hutch as the tall blond slumped forward, his face in his hands.

Starsky knelt before him, grasping his wrists tightly and pulling them down from the ravaged face. His own voice quivered as he struggled to reassure. “It’s not going to happen again, Hutch.”

“Promise me… promise me here and now! No more foolish stunts… no more unnecessary risks…”

The pleading eyes held Starsky as unrelentingly as the handcuffs had bound him to the beam. But Hutch hadn’t asked this of him when he was helpless. This was a promise that had to be made freely. He realized then how much Hutch had been held hostage these past weeks by his thoughtless, selfish actions. In one way or another, love makes prisoners of us all. And only love holds the key to set us free.

Gripping the tear-damp cheeks tightly in his hands, Starsky spoke with heartfelt conviction. “Listen to me. I promise you that from now on I’m going to be the most careful, cautious, by-the-book cop you’ve ever known.”

Their eyes held each others for several long moments, so much unspoken yet so much exchanged. Assured at last, Hutch sighed, tension ebbing from his entire body as a small smile formed on his lips.

“You, ‘by-the-book,’ huh? I find that a bit hard to believe.”

“Believe it. If I go back on my promise you have my permission to handcuff me to our bed for the next decade.”

Hutch eyed him mischievously, a smug expression on his face. “I don’t know. You just might like that.”

The knees he was kneeling on began melting beneath him.

“Me! You’re the one exhibitin’ this whole new kinky side to you that I never knew existed before… not that I mind, of course…” Starsky felt the blush rise against his cheeks as he sheepishly admitted in a low, husky voice, “I kinda like it actually.”

“Mmmnn, is that so?”

Hutch’s hands gripped his shoulders, bending him back, exposing his throat to eager lips and teeth. Hutch was feasting on him… claiming him… marking him… and Starsky’s entire body began to respond to the sensations. But the impassioned moan that escaped his throat and resounded into the air was followed by a less exciting sound… that of tires on the gravel outside.

“Damn! Wonderful timing,” Starsky mumbled bitterly as Hutch pulled him upright.

“Hey, look at it this way. The sooner we get done with them, the sooner we can get out of here and go home.” Hutch’s smile was filled with love as deft fingers reached out to re-do the lopsided buttons Starsky had misfastened. “Look at this. Can’t even dress yourself right. What am I going to do with you?”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay around forever… keep me outta trouble.” Starsky leaned forward to plant a brief but tender kiss on Hutch’s lips. “Love ya, Hutch.”

“Love you more,” Hutch teased, as he finished adjusting the buttons. He stood then, clasping Starsky’s hands and pulling him to his feet. “Come on. We’d better get out there before they start wondering what we’re doing in here.”

“Wouldn’t they like to know,” Starsky smirked as he bent down to retrieve Hutch’s flattened jacket from the ground. He smiled at it wistfully as Hutch snapped on his shoulder holster.

“Hey, Starsk, that stuff you said before about taking you home and ravishing you all night… we still on with that?”

“You’d better believe it,” Starsky enthused as he tossed the jacket to Hutch with a wicked smile. “Just one thing though… before the ravishing… you think you could feed me? I’m starved.”

Hutch shook his head and laughed in that ‘you exasperate the hell out of me but I wouldn’t change you for the world’ way of his before turning to leave the barn. Starsky’s voice called him back.

“Hey, Hutch.”

As he turned, Starsky flipped something towards him which he snared from the air. He looked with confusion at the handcuffs he was now holding.

“Starsky…what? These aren’t your cuffs.”

“I know,” Starsky shrugged before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Souvenir.”

Smoldering blue eyes met his as a soft pink blush colored the fair cheeks. Slowly, Hutch pocketed the cuffs then reached out an arm towards his lover. “Come on, partner. We’ve got plenty more memories to make.”

Starsky came up beside him and the arm draped over his shoulder.

“I’m countin’ on it,” he smiled then reached his hand out to push open the barn door. They walked together out into the sunlight.