A Forever Kind of Trust

124

Starsky leaves the Army and finds a place in the Police Academy and a new partner who shows him what he really needs.

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He had no patience for foreplay, and he didn’t waste time with words. They had so little.

“Just shut the hell up and get on with it. Fuck me!” He grunted as the cock slid into his ass. Before they could move, artillery boomed in the distance, warning them there’d be a firefight soon, but he wasn’t about to stop now. “Move, goddammit it! Make me come!” He fucked himself on the cock, soaring higher when his hips were grabbed and the cock in him slammed deep. A shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past him. His heart skipped a beat, but he arched and came hard. Another shot rang out. The body fucking him collapsed with a faint moan.

He pushed it off and out of him, grabbed his rifle and rolled, scanning the hilltop for a sniper. He saw a quick flash, fired and didn’t miss. Further off, the expected firefight was starting. He hurriedly pulled up and fastened his pants, then took a minute to put away the cock that had fucked him and cleaned up the evidence of carnal activity. The body moaned again and died with his name on its lips. “Thanks, Dave…”

He picked up his rifle again and joined the firefight. God, he really hated ‘Nam…

* * * *

He returned Stateside to a hostile public who reviled his service and had no use for who he was now. He didn’t blame them. He was a soldier who didn’t trust anyone who didn’t fight beside him. As a result, ‘Nam had made him an effective killer. He’d eaten things he never thought he would—local protein like snakes, live grubs and insects—and he was queer; he’d satisfied his sexual needs by sucking cock, fucking or being fucked only by others in cammo. He had no use for civilians at all.

He received an honourable discharge that didn’t mean a thing to him, but it pleased John Blaine. Apathetically, he asked why.

“Become a cop, Dave. I think you’d be a good one.”

“Are you outta your mind? Why the hell would I do that?” he snorted in derision.

“Because your dad was a cop. Because I am. Because you always do better when you’re focused and what better focus than ‘Protect and Serve’?”

“John…”

“I know. You’ve told me. You have no use for civilians. But you won’t be one of them like you are now. Being a cop is like the military, but it’s “us” and “them,” not “us” versus “them.” You’re part of a tightknit group—a thin blue line, instead of camouflage—that’s got your back, but there isn’t the daily carnage you dealt with in Vietnam. For the most part, the public is law-abiding and nobody’s shooting at you all the time.”

John stopped a moment, then continued. “I won’t lie, Dave. There will be bad days. But it’s possible to meet someone you’ll trust and confide in, who’ll trust and confide in you, give you what you need.” John looked at him intently, spoke knowingly from someplace deep in his soul. “A partner like that is worth everything. Think about it, kiddo.”

What I need…He didn’t know what that was, but he’d never thought of the police force like that and he had to admit, John’s unique point of view made it a distinct possibility. He thought about it long and hard, had more talks with John, then applied to the police academy.

* * * *

He passed the interviews and the background check. His military service and the discharge helped. So did the recommendation from John Blaine. For John, he was determined to be the best cop he could be.

He met others just as determined. One of them was a quiet, blond man. Someone said he was a Midwesterner from a well-to-do family, with a background he didn’t discuss. He seemed friendly enough, introducing himself their first day.

“Hi. I’m Ken Hutchinson,” and he extended his hand.

“Dave Starsky.” He shook the proffered hand and waited for the usual “where ya from” questions he didn’t want to answer.

Ken didn’t ask them. “Do you drink coffee? There’s a setup in the next room.”

“I could use a cup. Show me where.” Together, they went for coffee.

* * * *

They got along well enough, more interested in being cops than friends. When they graduated, they made the usual noises about staying in touch, but didn’t really expect to. They didn’t.

He worked hard and became a good cop. He wasn’t especially close to any of his partners, but like the military, he trusted the people he worked with directly. They had his back and he had theirs. And to his surprise, he got along with John Q. Public. Slowly, his life changed. He made a few friends, began to date.

He got promoted to detective and found himself transferred to a new precinct and partner—Ken Hutchinson, who offered his hand and a faint smile. “It’s been a while. Nice to see you again. Do you still go by Dave?”

“It’s Starsky now. What do they call you?”

Hutchinson shrugged. “Anything they want.”

Starsky shook his head. “Jeez. I don’t care for name games. I’m just gonna call you Hutch.”

“No mistaking who that is. Okay, I’ll answer to it.”

They headed for roll call, got their assignment, then hit the streets.

“You’ve changed,” Hutch commented after a morning together in the Torino, but typically didn’t say more.

Starsky glanced at his new partner, curious to know what Hutch meant. “How so?”

“You’re more relaxed around the public. You talk to them. You didn’t do that before. You’re dating. You didn’t do that either.”

“How do you know?”

“You talk. At the academy, you said you didn’t have the time. Now you do. You mentioned going bowling last week with Sharon.”

“Hmmm…” He told himself this Hutch guy paid attention.

“One more thing…”

“What’s that?”

“You touch now. Or do you just touch your partners?”

That was a surprise. He hadn’t noticed, but when he looked down, his hand was on Hutch’s leg, and Hutch didn’t seem to mind. Starsky nonchalantly removed his hand and they continued their shift.

* * * *

They forged a highly effective partnership. A friendship developed and grew closer over time.

There was simple trust—not an easy thing for either of them—and they began to confide in one another. The touching escalated. Starsky thought back to what John Blaine had told him—he could meet someone who would give him what he’d need, who would be everything to him—and he started to fantasize Hutch was the one.

They spent more and more of their time together. They double-dated. It wasn’t enough. He wanted—needed—intimacy. Not the casual sex he had here with various girlfriends, or the selective coupling he’d done in ‘Nam to ease the stress of daily kills. He needed the absolute intimacy of sharing souls with another.

But before he could pursue it, John Blaine was murdered and his secret life uncovered.

“Starsk?” Hutch couldn’t penetrate Starsky’s anger.

He felt betrayed by the confidant who’d said that as a cop, he could get what he needed, but there was only sordidness—a wife who looked the other way and took what she could get; a lover rejected because he wanted too much. There was a depravity Starsky hadn’t expected, that he learned from the men in John’s secret life. A life that didn’t allow love, or trust. Just sleazy, baseless sex. He’d had it better in ‘Nam.

He shut down.

* * * *

Hutch tried hard to give him space to grieve and diffuse his anger, but Starsky remained closed off. A week after John’s funeral, there was a knock at Starsky’s door he didn’t answer, but his visitor didn’t go away. He finally opened the door to Hutch juggling pizza boxes and a six pack of beer. “What the hell is this?”

Hutch frowned. “What do you mean? It’s Thursday and my turn to buy dinner!” Hutch started to push past Starsky, but he blocked Hutch’s entry.

“Get off my porch, Hutch. I’m not hungry and I don’t want you here.”

Hutch objected. “You may not want me, but you need me…”

“Like hell I do! I don’t need anybody!” He shoved Hutch out of the doorway and slammed the door in his face. The pizza and six pack went flying.

Hutch banged on the door. “Goddammit, Starsky, open up, or I’ll break it down!” He banged again. “I mean it, Starsk! Open the damn door!”

He put the chain on and cracked it open.

Hutch kicked it, stormed in, and shut the door behind him. “Let’s try this again. What’s going on in that head of yours, Starsk?”

He stomped into the bedroom and blatantly stripped in front of Hutch. “You tell me I need you? Then make yourself useful. Take out your cock and fuck my ass.” He climbed on his bed and presented himself.

Hutch edged forward and gently touched him. “You’re serious? You want me to make love to you just like that?”

“Love? Who the fuck said anything about love? I don’t want that kind of bullshit messing up my life. What I need is a cock in my ass. Are you gonna do it or not?”

“Not.” Hutch let go and stepped away from the bed. “I’m sorry I forced my way in, Starsk. I had no right to do that. You wanted to be left alone. I should have listened.”

He got up indifferently and threw on his jeans. “No problem. You’ve done me a favour. You’ve shown me I just need a cock. It doesn’t have to be yours. In fact, it’s probably better if it’s not.” He pulled on a T and left the room. He grabbed his keys and wallet off the counter, and stepped into loafers by the door. “Lock up when you go. I’ll see ya at work.”

“Starsky!”

But he was out the door and gone before Hutch could stop him.

* * * *

It was late when he got home, buzzed from the beer he’d been drinking. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was drunk. He staggered up the stairs.

The porch was clean; the pizza boxes and the six pack were gone. He let himself in. Hutch had left a light on for him. He kicked off his loafers, dropped his keys and wallet on the counter and his jeans and T on the floor as he padded naked to the bedroom.

Hutch was asleep in his bed.

It felt like a slap in the face. “What the hell are you doing? Get outta here!”

Hutch sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was nude. “Why? I’ve changed my mind. You wanna be fucked. I’m willing to do it. Or have you already had a cock tonight?”

He glared at Hutch. “I-I…” He wanted to be sick.

“If you’re back, I guess you did and you don’t want two.” Hutch pulled back the bedding and reached for his jeans. “Glad I could help you figure things out. You don’t want a lover and you sure don’t need me.” Hutch put on his shirt and tucked it into his jeans, then zipped them and looked for his shoes. “I’ll see you at work.” He headed out of the room.

“Hutch—” He reached for Hutch, who pulled away.

“Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t ever touch me again.” Hutch kept going and didn’t look back when Starsky dropped to his knees and vomited on the floor.

* * * *

Their next shift was barely tolerable. Hutch spent most of it ignoring him, refusing to speak, not allowing his touch. Despite a wretched hangover, Starsky tried to explain.

“It was true I wanted cock, Hutch. It was something I did in ‘Nam to relieve the stress when things got bad, but only—only—with a very select few I trusted with my life. John knew, and it was one of the things he used to get me to become a cop.”

He glanced at Hutch, wanting him to understand, but Hutch wasn’t listening. “I wasn’t fucked last night. I wanted your cock in me. Only yours. I was already feeling betrayed by John. Then you said no and I went crazy. If I’d stayed, I’d have coerced you into raping me. I’d done it before and couldn’t risk doing that to you. You’d have never forgiven me, so I left and got drunk.”

“And came home to me waiting to fuck you.” Hutch muttered.

“And came home to you.”

Hutch turned his attention back to the streets and didn’t say another word the rest of their shift. At the end of it, before he opened the door of the Torino, he stated in no uncertain terms, “I’ll see that you get another partner. Someone you can keep at a distance, who won’t try to dump bullshit into your life. I’ll talk to Dobey tonight. Don’t worry. I won’t mention the cock thing.”

“You love me, dontcha, Hutch?” He knew Hutch did, but he wanted to hear it. Needed to know that John didn’t lie to him; he’d just never found what he was looking for, and hoped that Starsky would. “Hutch?”

His silence was the proof Starsky needed. “Come home with me, babe. Come back to my bed and make love with me.”

“Love? You don’t want love. You want a cock to fuck you, or an ass you can fuck when you need one. A tried-and-true sexual release from a partner is all you really need.” Hutch opened the Torino door and got out. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with your next one.”

“There won’t be a next one.” Starsky pulled his badge and creds from his jacket and tossed them at Hutch. “Give these to Dobey. Tell him I quit.” He put the Torino in gear and pealed off.

* * * *

He spent the next week drunk in a shabby motel room, fucking and getting fucked by sleazy men he didn’t know. Strangers he picked up at the bar across the street.

“Starsky”

The low voice he heard warned him he was sobering up. He needed another drink. He groaned and raised a hand to rub his throbbing head, but there was a cold compress covering his eyes. “Wha—”

“Don’t try to talk. You need a shower, but this place is disgusting. When you can stand without puking, I’ll drive you home and you can clean up there.”

He knew this voice—it was Hutch’s, and Hutch was never supposed to know what he’d been doing. He didn’t want a partner anymore. That’s why he’d quit being a cop. He pulled the compress from his face and rubbed his head. “I need a drink.”

“Like hell. You’ve had enough. When was the last time you ate anything?”

He remembered a bowl of pretzels maybe two days ago, when he picked up that blond who fucked him raw. “Get outta here and leave me alone. I can take care of myself.” He managed to stand and staggered to the filthy bathroom. He barely made it before he vomited. He sank to the floor and held onto the toilet for a long time.

Eventually, he was sober enough to realize he needed to clean up before he could attract another pickup. The scattered towels were dirty, but he didn’t care. He flushed the toilet, crawled to the tub and fumbled with the shower. There was no soap left and there was no hot water. “Fuck!” He rinsed off anyway, but it didn’t help. He didn’t bother trying to dry off. He stumbled back into the bedroom to find something to wear.

Hutch was holding his jeans and shirt. “Put these on, so we can get outta here.”

“How did you find me?” He snatched his clothes and struggled to dress.

“You drive a flashy red and white Torino, genius. When I decided to find you, I didn’t need a BOLO. Huggy and I put the word out on the streets. It didn’t take long.”

“Why did you bother?”

Hutch shrugged, disgusted with what he saw. “I wish I knew.” He dug Starsky’s wallet and keychain out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

He glared at Hutch. “I want a drink.”

Hutch glared back. “You’re outta money. And you owed on the room for last night’s debauchery. I paid it when I asked which was yours.”

“How do you know—”

“I woke him up and kicked him out when I came in.” Hutch was done talking. He headed for the door.

Starsky shut up and followed.

* * * *

Hutch drove them back to Starsky’s place, but didn’t hand over the keys. He let them in and pointed to the bathroom. “Go get clean. Scrub yourself, then scrub again. I’ll make some coffee and scramble some eggs.”

“I don’t want eggs.”

“You’ll eat them. Get moving.” Hutch went to the kitchen. He went to the bathroom and stripped.

Twenty minutes later, he was clean and felt a helluva lot better. He wandered out to the kitchen wearing flannels and a robe. Hutch set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the counter and poured him a mug of coffee. “Eat!” he ordered, then he turned to wash the skillet.

Starsky did as he was told. The food slaked his burgeoning hunger pangs, but was bland enough to keep down. The coffee was strong and hot and sweet.

“You need to see a doctor, Starsk. The sooner the better. You should call and make an appointment when you’re done eating.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been out sick a week. You’ll need a doctor’s note to return to work.” Hutch dried the skillet and put it away. “Be honest about what you’ve been doing. You should probably have a follow up to test for STDs.”

“You didn’t tell Dobey I quit.”

Hutch shrugged. “No, I didn’t. I called you in sick. Your badge and your creds are at my place. I don’t know where your gun is.”

“In the lockbox in my closet. I’m not a complete idiot. I know better than to go on a drunk wearing a gun. Or carrying a wallet full of cash, for that matter…”

Hutch said nothing.

“Why did you come after me, Hutch?” After the week he’d just had, he honestly didn’t know.

“I’m supposed to, aren’t I? That’s what a partner does.” He whispered, “and because I love you, Starsk.”

“That’s one of the things a partner does,” Starsky agreed. “And I’m finally understanding what John was trying to tell me. A real partnership has patience and forgiveness and absolute trust…” Starsky looked remorsefully at Hutch. “You have all of that. I really hurt you, yet you came through…”

He hugged himself, lost in thought. “John never found one, but he told me a partner like that would be worth everything, and he was right.”

This time, when he looked at Hutch, there was love in Starsky’s eyes. “Will you come with me, Hutch? Let me show you?”

Hutch nodded and followed Starsky to the bedroom. Starsky urged him to sit on the bed and knelt down before him. “I want to make love with you, feel you move deep in my body. but I’ll wait to be tested for STDs. But…can I suck you, Hutch? I haven’t done that to anyone since ‘Nam, and it’s the safest way to show you I care.”

Hutch fumbled with his zipper with trembling fingers. Starsky smiled and did it for him, opening his jeans and exposing Hutch’s cock. He kissed the tip and gently licked it. Hutch moaned softly in growing excitement.

It was all Starsky needed. He took Hutch’s cock into his mouth, using one of his hands to fondle Hutch’s balls, the other hand to free his own cock and stroke it while he sucked. They both moaned in growing arousal.

“Starsk!” Hutch began fucking Starsky’s mouth, the tip of his cock going down Starsky’s throat. Starsky encouraged him to go deeper. It went on a few moments more, then suddenly, Hutch arched and poured down his throat with an exhilarated gasp. Starsky swallowed frantically and emptied his own cock all over the floor.

It was absolute bliss.

* * * *

John was right. Their partnership was everything to them, on and off the job. They shared a place now and didn’t hide who they were and what they had. The sex was terrific and fulfilling, but the love was even better.

And their souls intertwined in a forever kind of trust that united them and made them one.