The Morning After

Starsky woke up too early for him, feeling giddy and hyper. The previous night had been spectacular. His brain flooded with memories of voices speaking both loving and dirty words; flushed bodies writhing; searing kisses devouring mouths and skin. There had been awkwardness and sweetness, fumbling and laughing, declarations of love and hot, sensual passion.

He and Hutch had been a couple for a month, give or take, before sleeping together for the first time. They had agreed not to rush, to savor the start of this new fork in their common path, and to adjust to the change in their relationship status with no pressures and anxieties. It was also a good way of ensuring neither one of them would freak out before, during, or after sex.

It had worked like a charm. Dating had been fun; doing things as a couple and simply enjoying each other’s company in this new light with no expectations had been relaxing and carefree; things had progressed in a natural and organic way.

Starsky looked at Hutch sleeping peacefully beside him, his face smooth and beautiful, his hair fanned out on the pillow, the very image of an angel resting. He felt an exquisite happiness welling up inside him. He had so much love to give, and this amazing man sleeping beside him was worth every single drop of it.

He spent some time reminiscing about the previous night, reliving parts of the consummation of their relationship, a big, goofy grin stretching across his lips. Just thinking of the sounds they could coax out of each other made him tingle to his very core.

He sighed, feeling content. And, upon realizing that for once he was awake long before Hutch-and marveling at the fact-he decided an act of love on his part would be a fantastic way to mark this significant day. He wanted to treat Hutch to show his appreciation and make him feel special and cared for.

Hutch loved coffee. So, he would make coffee and greet Hutch with a big mug of his favorite beverage when he opened those gorgeous eyes. Yes, coffee and kisses in bed, yes that was a splendid idea. And when they finally got out of bed, he would make Hutch breakfast, too. He was going to spoil his man rotten!

He got up, careful not to disturb his love, and after using the bathroom, went to the kitchen. He made coffee, all the while daydreaming and making up scenarios in his head. Then he settled in to wait for Hutch to rise from his deep, restful sleep.

When Hutch stirred, surfacing from the depths of slumber, Starsky was vibrating with energy, eager to shower Hutch with love, affection, and attention.

Hutch smiled the sweetest of smiles and ran his fingers through Starsky’s curls. “Good morning,” he said, speaking in a soft, tender tone of voice, “you’re up early.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Starsky replied in the same tone of voice, his own smile almost, but not quite, shy. “I guess I was too happy to sleep too long. Besides, I wanted to pamper you.”

“Oh?” Hutch’s eyebrow went up a fraction.

Starsky brought the mug from the nightstand and offered it to Hutch.

“I want to cook you breakfast. But first, here’s a lovely, hot mug of coffee.”

Hutch looked at the mug cradled in his hands. “It’s cold.”

Starsky grimaced. “Here’s a lovely mug of coffee.”

Hutch took a sip. “It tastes like mud.”

“Well, a mug of coffee.”

“Is this even coffee? It looks like something I should beat with a stick.”

“A lovely mug, then.”

“It’s chipped and there’s a huge crack running all the way down.”

Starsky plucked the mug from Hutch’s hands and put it back on the nightstand.

“I admit my head was full of distracting thoughts while preparing this. But here’s a lovely, hot, throbbing cock that tastes amazing, is 100% what it looks like, and the only thing running all the way down it is this big, swollen vein.”

Hutch laughed and closed his hand around the silky flesh.

“Now that’s a proper breakfast of champions!”

It would be hours before either of them was coherent enough to even think of coffee.