By the Sea, By the Sea

97

Post Gunther, Starsky and Hutch use a leisurely vacation trip to catch up on the important things in life.

 

Originally published in The Fix #1 in 1987.

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He tossed his head back, seeking the wind against his face. Then, leaning forward, reveling in the feeling of freedom, straining toward flight, he half-raised his arms, tightening his grip on his companion’s hand. Eyes slit against the early morning glare, he turned to Hutch. The wind had made a glorious tangle of the blond silk, and he couldn’t help smiling in anticipation at soothing that warm halo into place. Yet Starsky held his peace. He’d let Hutch absorb the wildness of this place in silence.

Their hard-won leave from work had been spent seeing parts of the country new to them. They’d taken the southerly route east: New Orleans, then a bit of Florida—Disneyworld and the Everglades. He still preferred Disneyland, although Space Mountain had been something else. Too bad he hadn’t been able to coax Hutch on it a second time. Now, they were working their way north.

He’d gotten some shots in the Smokies—couldn’t wait to get them back to his darkroom. They’d even managed pretty well so far to balance the natural wonders with the hot spots of civilization. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate all these National Parks that Hutch insisted on, but he was looking forward to the city comforts they’d be enjoying in D.C, tomorrow night. But for the moment, he inhaled deeply, drawing the salt rich air in past the catch in his chest, rejoicing in the loneliness of the beach they shared.

“Funny how it seems all backwards.”

Hutch turned a smile on him and Scarsky couldn’t help but grin back as he saw the gladness and affection in Hutch’s beloved face.

“What about those famous visits to Coney Island? Or didn’t the sun rise over the ocean there?”

“That was years and years ago. Guess I’ve just gotten used to our beach.”

“So’ve I.” Hutch drew their clasped hands to his mouth and Starsky closed his eyes at the delicate warmth of lips grazing his knuckles, touching on the broad band of gold. Strong hands pulled him close, the broad shoulders sheltering him from the tug the wind. Blindly, he sought the lips that now caressed his eyelids. As always, his body leapt in response to his partner. The thought that this was indeed a public beach and not the private one behind their Huntington Beach home was swept from his mind as Hutch led him to a place of chilly concealment among the dunes.

“Hutch?”

“I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

He dragged open his eyes to gaze up at his lover’s face as Hutch eased them onto the sand. Crystal blue eyes seemed to consume him with their intensity, distracting him from the fingers working to expose his chest.

“How could I worry when you ‘re with me?”

With a strangled sound, Hutch’s lips captured his. Starsky parted his teeth to allow the familiar guest admittance, but was met with a fierce suction as Hutch ground their lips together. Teeth clicked crazily against teeth, and Starsky felt Hutch tremble against him. He held Hutch tighter, acquiescing to the not quite gentle hold of Hutch’s molars on his tongue.

Unsure what had sparked this mood in his partner, Starsky let Hutch guide their meeting. Finally, he was released for breath as Hutch moved his attention lower. Eager hands traced the rising expanse of pectoral muscles beneath their misting of hair.

His shirt was yanked roughly from jeans to allow the exploration of familiar territory. As always, thickened scarification and undamaged flesh received like treatment. Hutch was blind, it seemed, to the glaring imperfections Gunther had left behind.

Lips followed hands and suddenly Starsky was gasping as Hutch fastened on a nipple, nursing. He thrust hard against Hutch, trying to appease the quivering hardness Hutch had induced. Looking down, he brushed the tangled gold off the pleasure-blinded face, stroked the rhythmically hollowing cheeks.

Ah God, my all and everything, love you… he thought incoherently, ambushed by his lover’s beauty.

Suddenly teeth replaced lips and tongue on the tender, blood-suffused flesh. The wind swept away his cry of bright pleasure as strong white incisors tugged at the swollen nipple before pouncing on its twin.

At some point, Hutch’s shirt had been discarded, and in self-defense, Starsky began running his hands over the smooth golden back, raking his nails lightly over the rippling muscle. The big blond shivered and Starsky felt the heavy cock stir against his thigh through the layers of cloth. The cold hardness of the sand was nothing to the fire of passion coursing through his veins. Then his partner was rearing back to look down at him, gentle fingers tracing the mutilating scars. Starsky reached to pull the reddened lips back to his own and found himself crushed against the smooth chest.

“Mine,” Hutch hissed in his ear. “Here with me, you’re mine.” Hutch’s arms tightened savagely as he rained bruising kisses on Starsky’s face.

“Hey, easy.” Starsky wrapped his legs around his lover, meshing belt buckles, hipbones, and impatient cocks as he tried to accommodate frenzied thrusting. His golden lover seemed momentarily out of control. Exhilarated, he held on, intent upon riding the storm to its conclusion. He flinched as teeth clamped onto the slope of his shoulder and he felt warmth trickle down to the hollow of his collarbone. He flung his head back into the sand, baring his throat, simultaneously cradling the powerful body to him with his arms and legs. Hutch moaned as his lips skimmed the exposed flesh, teeth scraping over throbbing arteries to close around the windpipe.

Starsky felt the slick tongue follow the movement of his throat as he swallowed. Hands at his shoulder and waist held him immobile. The body in his ams shuddered, resonating for endless moments with undefined tension. Then came a tensing of muscles down Hutch’s back as denim-clad hips bore down on him with exquisite pressure. The tightening of jaws around delicate cartilage in his throat and the pulsating rush in his lover’s shaft triggered his own release.

***

Breathing slowed to near normal, Hutch felt the shivery brush of wind across his back. He lay quietly, face still buried in his partner’s sand-dusted curls. He could feel Starsky’s elegant fingers on his back, tracing random patterns that merged with the wind. He cringed as he remembered the frantic passion of minutes past, the insane longing he’d had to sink his teeth into the willing flesh. The need to express his claim, his power over this man, had sprung of a sudden, overwhelming him. His feeling of protectiveness at the sight of the scars had twisted, becoming somehow a need to post his territory, his mastery over this man whom he would defend from all comers.

“Starsk?”

“Mmmn?” The lazy motion of hands continued undisturbed.

“You all right?”

“Of course.”

“I… I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you. God, I don’t know…”

“Ssh,” Starsky insisted. “It’s okay. You could never hurt me. Sure, it got a bit rough there, but you know that’s fun, too. Little extra hot sauce to life—gotta get it somewhere if I can’t get it in my food.”

“But I could have really injured you.” Hutch couldn’t let it go so easily. With careful fingers he smoothed the oozing bite.

Gentle hands tugged at his hair. “Hutch, babe, look at me.”

He lifted his head to gaze into warm blue depths.

“You could never seriously hurt me, just like I could never really hurt you. But we both know that perfect as we both are things that aren’t all sweetness and light have to surface sometimes. Nothing wrong with that. Probably one of your fancy books says somewhere that its healthy. Beside,” Starsky wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer, “it was hot. And next time we might even get our pants down!” A big sloppy kiss punctuated Starsky’ s last statement. Hutch turned it into a gentle kiss, undemanding and languorous, before moving off his partner.

Clouds scudded past overhead, but Hutch felt securely anchored in the seemingly limitless love from the man scanning the sky beside him.

“Hey! What’s that one?”

Hutch followed the line of outstretched finger to the bird soaring above. “Not a gull. Looks like some kind of hawk.” He rolled his head to study the rapt profile beside him. “I love you.” A grin crawled up the side of the face that he could see.

“You always said you were the half of the team with good taste.” The warm fingers in his clasp squeezed affectionately. “In some things, anyway.”

***

“Those crabs were terrific, but I’m bustin’ my belt here. Hey! There’s the turn.”

Hutch took the indicated right. The streets here at the northern end of the island were like a maze, and an unlighted one at that.

“See, there’s the Nautilus and the Osprey; ours is up that way a bit.” Starsky pointed toward the vacation rental cabins they passed.

“Jeez, you’d think they could invest in a lamppost or two.”

“Listen to him; just last night you were talking about the quaint atmosphere around here.”

“Shut up, Joker, or I’ll make you do the driving in all this ‘atmosphere’.”

“You mean, I get to do the driving tonight?”

“Think you can handle it?”

“Oh yeah, I know how to handle a stick shift with the best of them. ‘Specially on the bigger models. Hey, Blintz, what ya blushin’ for?” Starsky teased as Hutch parked in the crushed shell drive.

“Me? Blush? Never! Besides, it’s too dark for you to see anyway.” Hutch overrode the snicker that was threatening to turn into outright laughter. “You drive me crazy. C’mon, let’s get inside.”

Starsky slammed the passenger door. “But that’s the idea, Big Boy.”

“Stick to Bogie, pal, your Mae West sucks.”

“Patience, patience, that too shall come.”

“Starsky!” Hutch stormed inside the cottage, moving quickly behind the door.

A rich chuckle preceded Starsky, but Hutch waited ’til his quarry was clear of the door and reaching for the light switch, then pounced. He grunted with the effort of swinging Starsky’s slender form up into his arms. With a shove of his foot, he slammed the door shut.

Starsky lay back in his arms, the back of one hand pressed to his forehead, but then spoiled the effect of a soon-to-be-ravished damsel with his giggles.

Hutch set off for the downstairs bedroom. “Ready for a drive, Mister?”

“Where to?”

“Don’t know for sure,” Hutch said, hoisting him up higher in his arms, filing away for future reference a remark about laying off the crabs. “Want to be my co-pilot?”

“Depends.”

Hutch collapsed on the wide bed with his burden. “On what?”

“Well,” Starsky began, unbuttoning Hutch’s shirt, “how’s the pay?”

“Not so good, but the fringe benefits are fantastic.”

“Braggart.”

Hutch initiated a series of light, teasing kisses, outlining his partner’s lips from one gently downturned corner to the other. He sensed moistness as they opened to him. Sinking his fingers into Starsky’s dark curls, he sighed with the sheer sensual delight of the contact. Lips sealed with lips and flavors were shared back and forth. Hutch stroked the tongue twining with his own, tasting the mix of beer and Old Bay spice. The textures and topography were endlessly fascinating as he charted detail after detail. He inhaled deeply, replenishing their shared oxygen supply.

Starsky’s hands were busy with buttons, snaps, and zippers. Without relinquishing the contact of lips and tongues, Hutch pulled them to a sitting position long enough to slip off the now unnecessary shirts. Wriggling out of the remainder of their clothes was a greater challenge, but one that brought about intriguing contacts between newly bared areas of skin.

Mission accomplished, they subsided onto the bed, side by side, legs entangled. Hands drifted in mirror-like patterns to renew acquaintance with familiar landscapes. Well-defined musculature, designs of soft hair, bony protuberances, were all lovingly catalogued. Lips parted as the need for oxygen increased.

Hutch opened his eyes to the precious, love-softened features before him. He could never see enough of this face in all its aspects, but now there was the added fillip of knowing he was the cause of this particular transformation. A careful finger followed the line of profile, past the long nose only to be detoured into the mouth. Starsky’s eyes spoke of pleasures to come as he exerted a strong suction of the captured digit. At the same time, Hutch felt Starsky’s hands on him, pulling their bodies into electrifying contact from chest to toe.

Releasing the index finger with a final nip, Starsky slid his body down a few inches, then back up. For Hutch, it was like being stroked by burning velvet. The brush of body hair was sending urgent messages to his cock. Gasping, he rolled atop Starsky, thrusting the manifestation of his desire against a matching hardness.

“No.” Starsky wrestled to reverse their positions. “I wanna drive for a while.”

Hutch lay back, content to allow Starsky to take the lead. His partner was crouching over him, and Hutch felt Starsky’s tongue circling the head of his cock. A cooling breeze on his damp flesh had him thrusting helplessly toward Starsky’s talented mouth. He bunched a pillow behind his head and tugged on Starsky, signaling him to sink further down. Long fingers probed his testicles, and he found himself drawing up his legs, letting the knees fall wide.

Concentrating on the feast before him, he carded fingers gently through the thatch of coarse curls. Deliberately, he examined the familiar curve of manhood in the dim light from the living room. Relaxing his throat, he guided Starsky in all at once to savor, all over again, the rich textures and tastes of this man. Tracing veins and ridges, he backed off, sucking rhythmically. One hand wrapped around the base of Starsky’s straining erection as he handled his lightly furred balls with the other. With sensitive fingers, he sought the inner structures of the well filled sac.

Further south, Starsky was increasing the tempo, irresistibly pulling a response from Hutch’s hips. In retaliation, Hutch abandoned the tight balls and followed the deep cleft back to the tightly closed portal only he knew. Imperiously, he slid his middle finger home. With rippling muscles welcoming him, he thrust in ’til his palm pressed flat in the heated valley. He probed the smooth darkness for the slight swell of the prostate, knowing the reaction this attention would elicit. Starsky’s hips rocked hard as Hutch held him captive between fingers and mouth. The sphincter relaxed gradually and Hutch insinuated two more fingers, allowing the trio to continue expanding the passageway.

Hutch felt Starsky’s inventive mouth suddenly release him.

“Hutch! I want you. Now.” And Starsky was pulling free, searching the bed for the KY they’d left under a pillow. He found it tangled in the sheets, and Hutch watched intently as trembling fingers wrenched the cap off. He gasped as he felt eager hands smooth a thick coat of lubricant over the length of his shaft. The sensation threatened to short out his control. Sitting up, he grasped Starsky by the nape, pulling him into a hard kiss. As a distraction, it failed miserably.

“Careful, love. I’m close.”

“Hang onto it, Blondie, cause I ain’t through with you yet.”

“I’ll try, Hot Stuff, I’ll try.”

Attempting to slow the pace, he stole another kiss. Starsky leaned into him, and Hutch felt a slight relaxation in the overheated body as his partner responded to the careful braking. They eased back from the peak with soothing touches and leisurely kisses. But it wasn’t long before Hutch felt deft hands at his groin again. He buried his face in the lush curls, breathing in ocean scent. A tickling sensation assaulted his cock. Starsky was trailing a fingernail through the glistening gel.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Innocent eyes gazed excitedly at him from their thick frame of lashes. “Monograming you, of course. See, D.M.S.”

“Are you crazy?” Hutch grabbed the tube of jelly and dragged the willing body crosswise on the bed. “Obviously, I haven’t been keeping you well enough occupied here.” Swiftly he anointed the waiting orifice, thoroughly spreading the coolness up and in.

“Yes, oh God, yes, Hutch.” Starsky drew his knees up higher, bearing down hard on the finger.

Hutch rolled off the side of the bed, drawing Starsky to the edge where he stood. Demanding hands grasped his cock, guiding him to his goal.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck… Now, lover, please…”

He answered the impassioned pleading with a precise thrust, past the first reflexive resistance. The controlled fall into his lover’s body halted only when heavy balls flattened hard against the firm ass.

“Yes!”

The single syllable of Starsky’s hoarse cry rang in his ears as the motion of the universe was suspended around them. The universe started up again with the wave-like contractions of his partner’s inner muscles. He strained into the vortex of their passion, washing away all corporeal boundaries, wanting to merge their separate existences into a single being.

He felt as though each cell of his body was intricately connected to a counterpart in Starsky’s, a myriad of fibers that bound them closer than life. Instinctively, he knew that if Starsky were taken from him, his life would drain through severed ties into the void. Their joining was the truth and beauty that formed the bedrock of his existence, the base from which all else sprang.

He became aware of fingers digging into his biceps, urging movement. Planting his feet firmly on the bare wood floor, he carefully withdrew, only to lunge forward once more. Again and again, withdrawal followed thrust, each pass brushing the sensitive gland. The rhythm developed as he recalled the crash of the surf that morning. Flames vied with the waves in his brain as the smooth-muscled flesh surrounding him conformed to the contours of his body, a constant, sweet resistance.

The fever pitch to the movements of Starsky’s body penetrated his steam-fogged awareness, alerting him to his lover’s readiness. Without interrupting his motion, he laid a hand over the dark-curled groin. He wanted to feel it happen for the passionate man. He wanted to feel the gathering climax, the jerk of testicles, the pounding of blood, the shattering exodus of sperm. His spine felt bathed in lava, but he held off his own journey to oblivion, wanting to be awake to Starsky’s joy.

And it was now.

He knew the response of Starsky’s body as intimately as his own. Muscle locked against muscle and the sound of his name issued from the strong throat in a note of such purity it could come only from intense pleasure. Semen spattered his abdomen and chest and then his own body was flinging his heart outward, draining itself into the vessel of his love.

Warm darkness enfolded him, rocking him with trembling arms. A scented breeze soothed him with a familiar crooning. He lay sprawled across a lover’s chest, whose arms and legs held him from slipping to the floor. Too soon to part, together they pushed back onto the bed. Together they shared the silence.

Hutch took stock, enjoying the moist contact between their bodies. Lazily, he licked a bead of sweat from over Starsky’s heart. His lips lingered on the spot, feeling the strong thump of life.

A deep sigh lifted the muscled breast pillowing his cheek. Tilting his head, he peered up at the expression of vast contentment spreading across the beautifully mis-matched features.

“Hey, Hutch, we have to remember to stop someplace for an oil change; she’s about due.”

“Mmhm.”

“Probably we can find a quicky place in D.C.”

“Probably.”

“Might want to get the alignment checked, too. She’s been pulling to the right some.”

“Uh huh.” Hutch rubbed his cheek against the warm chest, catching dark curls with his beard growth.

“Hey, didja confirm with the hotel?”

Hutch hid a smile against the scented skin. “Uh huh.”

“And did I mention,” Starsky continued in the same conversational tone, “that I love you very much?”

“Uh huh.”

“And that I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow?”

“You don’t say.”

“Yup. And it’s all your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Sure. You were driving, weren’t you? Pass me a pillow.”

“I may have been working the pedals,” Hutch slipped free of Starsky’s body, maneuvering them lengthwise on the mattress, “but you were certainly the one steering.”

While Starsky mulled that over, Hutch used a corner of the sheet to clean them off. Evidently, Starsky wasn’t coming up with a retort, and they settled into a comforting layering of appendages. As he drifted off to the soft lapping of the waves, Hutch thought he heard Starsky mumbling into his neck, something about double clutching….