That Dance They Do

They know all the steps by heart.

First part is a drabble written for the LJ me_and_thee_100 comm 100-drabble challenge. Second part is for Thayln and Yellow57, because they asked.

It’s a dance. They know all the steps by heart.

Starsky straddles the chair, leaning menacingly over its back to stare at the suspect. Several paces away, Hutch is holding up the wall, cool and impassive.

Suddenly Starsky springs—in the perp’s face, fistfuls of grubby shirt in his hands, his voice scathing. A heartbeat and a half later, Hutch is there, pulling Starsky away—just a little. His glare is pointed and telling. Another minute, a confession spills out. It’s a good day’s work.

Time to celebrate… with another kind of dance.

“Your place?”

“Okay. This time, I lead.”

******

This time, it is Starsky up against the wall, leaning back negligently with his hands in his pockets, his hips canted forward in temptation, in invitation, in an irresistible challenge.

Hutch moves in close, then closer still. He meets the challenge head-on—so to speak. Starsky tries not to moan out loud at the heated press of groin to groin.

Hutch’s gaze is intense, icy hot as it rakes over the vee of his partner’s exposed chest. Hungry for more, he grabs the shirt and rips it open impatiently. Starsky’s battle to remain silent is lost as fingers and lips take possession of his skin, his body, his soul.

“Want it, want you.” The confession is urgent, desperate. “Please….”

“Now,” Hutch growls, pulling Starsky away from the wall. Hutch heads for the bedroom, with Starsky in tow.

They dance to the music only they can hear, to the driving beat of their hearts, the siren call of their desire. Their bodies move and meld, two becoming one.

In this, as in everything else, me and thee.