I Love How

Starsky sings for Hutch.

Starsky tipped back, landing them both on their bed. A gloriously happy, silly drunk, and very horny Starsky.

“Hutch.” Hutch couldn’t respond, his lips were occupied elsewhere. “Hey, Hutch?” Fingers pulling at his hair lifted his face. Starsky gazed up at him, loopy grin, sparkling eyes, happier than Hutch had seen him for months. His Starsky.

“I’m here, love.”

Starsky laughed and squirmed beneath his lover. “Know you are, layin’ right on top of me, aren’t you?” Hands worked their way in between bellies, pushing at hipbones, pulling at shirts and belt buckles. Starsky found that one little spot just below Hutch’s ribs that made him laugh and buck against Starsky’s body, and Hutch found Starsky’s mouth, with his lips and his tongue and his fingers. No way could Starsky have been happier, no way could he have been more cooperative. He was Hutch’s, and Hutch knew it, and that was enough to make them delirious with joy and wanting.

Hutch pulled his knees up to straddle Starsky, making strong headway in his attempts to disrobe his lover. Starsky’s shirt was unbuttoned and opened, his jeans unsnapped and unzipped, laying bare his torso from his neck to the V’d opening of his zipper occupied by the engorged root of his cock, its shaft still tucked behind worn denim, backed by the delicious darkness of Starsky’s pubic hair. Hutch buried his face there, his nose at the juncture of cock and belly, his chin feeling the scrape of zipper and denim. Hands stretched upward to find and tease nipples, pull at body hair, and caress from shoulders to hips. Starsky had his own ticklish spots, and Hutch found and greeted every one of them.

“Hutch!”

Hutch was a bit too busy to respond, his mouth engaged in the business of sucking the hard bit of Starsky’s cock his open zipper had freed. Starsky tried again, batting at Hutch’s head, not knowing if he should laugh or moan or maybe just swear at his partner.

“Dammit, Hutch, listen to me, would ya please?” Moans won out as fingers joined lips and Starsky’s cock sprang free from its prison. Starsky watched his cock bobbing from side to side as Hutch wrestled his jeans down his legs, slapping up at his belly when Hutch got to his feet. That was all it took; Starsky was gone in a fit of laughter, Hutch looking up in annoyed perplexity from between Starsky’s knees, and Starsky sobered enough to try again. “Hutch…hey, Hutch. I wanna sing to you.”

“Now?” Hutch managed a lifetime of frustration in that one word.

“Yeah. Now. Got a new song to try out on you. Changed a word or two. Picked it up from my book.”

Hutch must have taken too long trying to figure a way out of it. Found himself flat on his back with a very naked partner straddling his mid-section. Said partner busily unbuttoning Hutch’s shirt and pushing it off to his sides. Starsky’s face went a few shades darker, his eyes a few shades brighter. His lower body shifted south, and his hands went in every other direction. Finding one nipple he sucked, humming a vaguely familiar tune, sending little tremors over Hutch’s chest. Releasing Hutch’s nipple, he bathed his smooth chest with his tongue, still humming. At least until he started to sing.

“I love to lave you, baby. I love to lave you, baby.”

Back to the humming. Back to singing. Back to humming. Hutch didn’t know if he should actually acknowledge Starsky’s song or not. His body decided on or not for him. It was too good. That very talented tongue, the humming, even the singing was endearingly Starsky. And he was laving him. And Hutch was certainly enjoying it. At least he was until Starsky’s head rested heavy on his belly and the humming gave way to deep breathing. Liquor was having its way with Starsky, and right in the middle of the umpteenth chorus of “I love to lave you, baby”, David Starsky fell asleep.

“Starsk.”

A muffled curse lost in the flesh of his belly was all the response Hutch got. Starsky nested his head and lay still, snoring now, still sprawled across Hutch’s legs.

“Starsky. Hey, buddy.” Hutch gave it another shot.

“Hmm?”

“Starsk, wake up.”

“Not sleeping.”

“Really?”

“Makin’ love.”

“Oh.”

Fingers scrabbled along Hutch’s sides like they had forgotten their way and were lost, sliding off to either side to rest on the bed. Dark curls tickled and whiskers scratched and Hutch couldn’t remember a time he felt more grounded. This was where he belonged, where he wanted to belong. Safe in bed with a tipsy partner who loved him so much that falling asleep on his belly was called making love. Shifting what body parts he could, making himself comfortable, Hutch let the day drift away. Sleep came easily and so did waking up. Waking up with an armful of lover sucking steadily on the closest nipple, hands busily greeting his morning erection.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Muffled on Starsky’s part, but Hutch could figure it out.

Hutch shifted, a knee nudging Starsky’s belly, giving him just enough space to grab Starsky’s arms and pull him up and closer.

“Starsk? I want to sing to you.”

Starsky managed to look thoughtful through the whiskers and wild curls and lips wet from sucking. Eyes glittering with remembrance of the night before, he played into Hutch’s hands.

“Now?”

“Yeah. Got a new song to sing to you. Picked up a new word from my lover.”

“Your lover? Do I know this lover?”

“Shut up and do what you were doing.”

Starsky’s hand moved on his cock, and Hutch shivered and waited a minute to continue his game.

“Your tongue, baby, use your tongue on me. Up here, higher.”

“Oh.”

With an apologetic squeeze to Hutch’s cock, Starsky began to wash his chest, sucking and licking his way to Hutch’s neck, over his shoulders, and back to his chest.

Hutch started humming, dropped a few kisses on the dark head of his lover, and sang.

“I love how you lave me, whenever I’m near you.”

Starsky drew in a deep breath around the nipple he was sucking, A breath shaky with emotion, closer to tears than laughter. Hutch sang so sweetly, so filled with love. Silly words that were wise and basic and thoughtful and goofy. Sort of like you, Hutch. Starsky took his turn at feeling cherished and grounded. Laid his ear to Hutch’s chest and soaked in the beating of his heart. Listened to the song Hutch sang and loved him for it.