Saying Goodbye

Starsky asks something from Hutch and Hutch willingly gives him everything he needs.

Originally published in SHareCon 2010 zine.

The exchange of words was quick and quiet.

“You coming by tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Who do you want to hear about?”

“Terry.”

An intake of breath. A squeeze to a bicep. They parted company, leaving by separate means; keeping a secret, hurrying to share another.

~~~~~

Starsky’s apartment was dimly lit. Hutch knew he had lighted candles and left the lights off intentionally. Knew Starsky needed something to hide behind tonight—even from him. Locking the door behind him, he took time to secure the deadbolt. Wine waited on the pass-through counter that bordered the kitchen. Wine and two glasses. Glancing through the kitchen into the bedroom, Hutch could see more candles and Starsky’s traffic light blinking red, green, and yellow—a simple kaleidoscope of color washing over the near darkness of the room.

Starsky was naked, curled on his side on the bed, staring at nothing, but seeing everything Hutch wanted to see…wanted to hear. Tonight would be tough. Tonight Terry would be part of their lovemaking. Starsky’s Terry: sweet, laughing, brave Terry, whose death still haunted him at times. Gillian, Abby, and Rosie—their stories had already been told, the details of their loving celebrated by the two men who loved them. Weaving their women into their lovemaking, acknowledging the depth of their feelings, and saying goodbye. Their memories—both given and received—allowed to drift away and be silenced.

Hutch stripped, tossing his clothes over the sofa, kicking his shoes under a chair. Forced himself to breathe deeply, trying not to shake. Leaving the wine for later—for after—he walked silently into the bedroom. Settling behind his lover, he curved his body to fit Starsky’s. Starsky was trembling—his skin cool, his breaths shallow and fast.

“We don’t have to…”

“Yes, Hutch. We do…I want to. Just need to go slow.”

Hutch was quiet after that. This was Starsky’s show, Starsky’s memories, Starsky’s love. They both knew there would be hurt, knew what they were doing was dangerous for them both. Terry would either stay or be released. Starsky would either be his or be held by memories of a woman he couldn’t let go of. Hutch couldn’t help it—he wanted Terry gone, her memory just a part of their history. But his love for Starsky would allow her to stay if she had to. It was up to Starsky.

A squeeze to Hutch’s hand told him Starsky was ready. Hutch’s lips found the back of his neck and sucked there for a moment before turning Starsky in his arms. Starsky looked into his eyes and kissed him, pulling back when Hutch closed his eyes.

“Open your eyes, Hutch. Terry always kept her eyes open when we kissed before making love.”

Hutch did as Starsky told him to. Starsky’s own eyes closed as his lips moved over Hutch’s face, opened when his lips found Hutch’s, closed again when he took Hutch’s mouth. Hutch watched Starsky’s face. Watched the way his cheeks moved in a dance with his tongue when he washed Hutch’s lips and teeth and gently forced his tongue inside his mouth. Watched Starsky’s eyelids quiver and his brows raise and the lines on his forehead wrinkle as if in wonder of what his tongue had found.

Withdrawing, he opened his eyes. “Terry loved my tongue inside of her mouth, Hutch. When we first started kissing that way, she asked me if she could suck on it—sort of practice for what was to come.” Starsky’s eyes darkened with desire even as he blushed. “Suck my tongue, Hutch.”

Hutch pressed thumbs on either side of Starsky’s lips, forcing them to purse open. He pressed his tongue inside, letting his thumbs fall away, opening Starsky’s mouth to him. Finding Starsky’s tongue, curling his own around it and drawing it into his mouth, Hutch sucked. Pulled Starsky’s tongue in deep, letting go and playing with it, forcing it to retreat back to Starsky only to suck hard and draw it back to him.

Starsky moaned and shivered, pulling back, looking away for a moment from Hutch’s eyes—seeing something only he could. “That was good, Hutch, real good. Terry and I would kiss for a long time. When she was ready for more, she’d hold my head in her hands and put me where she wanted me. She always wanted me at her breasts first.” Starsky arched against Hutch, his cock hard and hot on Hutch’s belly. “God, Hutch, her breasts were so small and perfect. I could suck each one into my mouth.” Starsky shifted his body downward, his face even with Hutch’s chest. “I’m gonna love your chest now, Hutch. Hold my head; take me where you want me.”

Hutch twined his fingers in Starsky’s curls, pressing Starsky’s lips to his left nipple. Starsky licked and bit, opening his mouth wide over Hutch’s chest, sucking the flat plane of lightly tanned skin. Hutch moved him to his right nipple and Starsky suckled there, too, his fingers busy pinching and rolling the side he just left. “Tell me more, Starsk. Tell me how you made love to her breasts. Tell me what Terry liked.”

Starsky lifted his head and stared at Hutch in the dim light. His breath caught and his body trembled, but he told Hutch what he wanted to hear. “Her nipples were so tiny, babe, tiny and dark pink. Barely bigger than yours. I loved playing with her breasts—she liked me to bite, suck on her until her skin turned red.” Starsky bit Hutch then—a gentle nip of teeth followed by a warm, wet tongue, more sucking, then petting. Hutch called for Starsky, pulled his head back up, kissed him, and fondled Starsky’s own nipples. Patting at the hair he found, ducking his own head for a quick suck, biting and soothing as Starsky had done for him.

Hutch pushed himself onto his back, drawing Starsky against his chest. Parted his legs and held Starsky there, whispering in his ear how much he loved him and how he could see Starsky with Terry. Could see their lovemaking as if he were there in bed with them. Starsky moaned at Hutch’s words and pushed up onto his elbows, kissing the softness under Hutch’s chin, his eyes darker still, his cheeks flushed. Hutch waited, wanting more of this story from his lover.

Starsky moved again, kissing Hutch over his heart, moving down his belly, sucking hard at the softness just below his navel. Lifting his head to gaze at Hutch’s pubic hair before opening his mouth wide and pressing it there, his warm breath finding its way between and around the tight curls. Hutch arched against his mouth and Starsky rewarded him with more warmth before taking his mouth away, waiting for Hutch to calm and listen to what he had to say.

“Terry had real dark hair down there, Hutch. She liked the warm breathing—lifted her body pretty much like you just did.” Starsky gave a small laugh. “The rest of loving her…her body…so different…” Starsky squirmed, uncomfortable with the wording or the actual telling; Hutch wasn’t certain which. When Starsky loved a woman he never used words like tit or ass or pussy. Starsky’s loves had breasts and bottoms and vaginas.

“Starsk? Look at me…up here, love.” Starsky lifted his head. Hutch ran his fingers along the long jaw line, his thumb over Starsky’s lips. “Do you want to stop?” Starsky didn’t speak, his no a soft shake of his head. “Then take my cock in your hand and tell me a story. Tell me what it was like to love your lady.”

Starsky curled on his side between Hutch’s legs, his head resting on Hutch’s belly, Hutch’s cock caught mid-length in his closed fist. Snaking his tongue out, Starsky licked at the root of Hutch’s erection, drawing his tongue down and around Hutch’s balls. Traced the seam he found there and hesitantly and softly started to talk.

“Terry was so tiny, Hutch. I always wondered how I was going to manage to fit in her. I took my time—blowing against her hair like I did you, slipping my tongue between her…her lips and finding her…” Starsky stumbled over his words, groaned out-loud and tightened his grasp on Hutch’s cock when Hutch whispered “her clitoris” in his ear. Starsky pulled Hutch’s cock to his mouth and tongued his slit and licked the shaft. “I sucked on her for a long time—it was like a tiny little cock against my tongue. When it got to be too much for her, I licked lower until I found her vagina, and slipped my tongue inside.” Starsky was pumping Hutch now, taking a long moment to suck the head of his cock and roll his balls. Starsky stretched on his belly, his mouth holding tight to Hutch, his hand busy now behind Hutch’s sac.

When his fingers found Hutch’s anus, Starsky released Hutch’s cock from his mouth. “Sometimes Terry would want me to play back there, Hutch. I’d put my finger in her and push in as far as I could.” Hutch cried out and lifted his hips and Starsky’s finger was there, pushing deep. “I’d sort of bite at her and turn her over.”

Hutch was ready when Starsky’s hands grabbed his hips and turned him. Gentle hands stroked his ass and Hutch looked back over his shoulder, seeing Starsky staring off into space and knowing he was remembering another bottom. One small and rounded and very feminine. He whispered for Starsky and was rewarded with a rough squeeze of his ass-cheeks. Hutch groaned and cried for him, and Starsky pressed his lips to one cheek, his finger finding its way back inside Hutch.

“I’d take her then, Hutch. Push my cock inside of her and my finger in her backside and she’d pull up on her knees. Get up on your knees for me, Hutch.” Hutch did as Starsky demanded, crying out when Starsky bunched his fingers and started thrusting them into his ass. Starsky’s other hand found Hutch’s cock and he pumped him frantically. “It was good, Hutch. Terry was so tight around me—so warm and wet.” Hutch bucked against Starsky’s fingers, the picture Starsky was painting with his voice and hands burning at his eyes. “Come for me, baby. I can feel myself inside of you…feel my cock moving inside of you with my fingers—Terry!”

Hutch came hard when Starsky called for Terry, spilling over Starsky’s hand, riding a wave he wanted to never end. Starsky pumped him slowly, knowing instinctively when Hutch was finished. He pulled his fingers from Hutch and eased him down on his belly. Coating his own cock with Hutch’s cum, he took Hutch. Entering slowly, moving as gently as his over-heated body would allow. Once inside, he lay against Hutch’s back and whispered in his ear. “Terry wanted me inside of her like this, Hutch. We tried, but I just couldn’t get in. Me being inside of you is just for you and me. Just us.”

Starsky loved Hutch then. Moved inside of him and kissed every place he could reach and touched every part of Hutch that needed touching. When he came, he called for Hutch and only Hutch. Hutch turned and held him close when their bodies parted. Whispered his thanks to Starsky for sharing Terry with him. And waited until he heard Starsky whisper his own thanks to Terry for loving him and Hutch. Waited and worried until Starsky whispered goodbye to Terry.

Starsky’s mouth was on Hutch’s the moment he said his goodbye. His arms holding Hutch close, bodies pressed tight. “There’s no one standing between us anymore, babe. We’ve said goodbye to all of them. Maybe Terry was the hardest—I loved her and I know you loved her, too.”

“She gave you to me, babe. Gave me the greatest gift I could ever receive. I did love her.”

Hutch kissed Starsky. A slow, deep kiss. Not Terry’s kiss or Gillian’s or Abby’s or Rosie’s. Turning Starsky in his arms, he wrapped himself around his body in the same manner as he had when they started making love. His lips found the back of Starsky’s neck again, his hands and arms busy touching and holding. “Sleep, Starsk. Your dreams are yours to keep; always will be. When we wake up, I’ll make love to you again. Me, Starsk…just me.”