An Excerpt from Saving Starsky

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This scene follows Hutch’s first time as receiver (and I don’t mean in sports…) Starsky has already been receiving for some time. For his birthday, Hutch finally surrendered to bottoming for him and gave Starsky handcuffs to fulfill a fantasy, telling him to have at it. Again, this is what followed that scene. You’ll have to read the novel to read the scene that preceded it, lol.

 

Saving Starsky is the second novel in a Dandelion’s Series 1.

Originally published in the SHareCon 2016 zine.

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They faced each other, content in the position in which they’d found themselves, not sure how they’d gotten there, but no desire to leave it any time soon, though Hutch wouldn’t have minded if Starsky released him from the handcuff; it had slightly rubbed his skin raw. He twisted his wrist to make it more comfortable, but the effort didn’t pay off.

Starsky noticed. “Does your ass hurt, too?” he asked. Hutch’s leg was bent and Starsky slouched against it, faced his partner with his head resting on Hutch’s knee, and affectionately badgered him further. “You sound all good, but you look all pain.”

Hutch smiled at him, into those blue, bedroom eyes. He was pleased by how casual Starsky had become with him, by Starsky’s smugness for having finally lived his fantasies and his desires of penetrating sex with him. More than anything, Hutch relished Starsky’s contentment. It’s where Starsky deserved to be—however he got there.

Hutch concentrated on the question Starsky asked. “I’ll be sore,” he figured, sinking his shoulders further into the pillows at his back. “You fucked me hard.”

“I didn’t fuck you all that hard,” Starsky argued, “but I was hard when I fucked you.”

“You don’t think that was a hard fucking?”

“No. But I was making up for lost time, so maybe you just thought it was hard.”

Hutch admired the light in Starsky’s eyes, the way they reflected Starsky’s enjoyment of the memory. His hips were beside Hutch’s head, so Hutch couldn’t tell whether the talk about their intercourse aroused Starsky, but he didn’t act like it had.

“I made you come,” Starsky noted, licking his lips as he further savored the memory.

“I’m well aware,” Hutch replied. He could still feel the faint moisture of his semen on the mattress at the small of his back.

“I meant, I did fuck you hard enough that you came.”

“I knew what you meant.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was intense. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it.”

“I loved it,” Hutch reassured him. “I never felt anything like it before and shame on me for taking so long to get around to it.”

Starsky remembered that unprecedented feeling from his first time, too. He turned his head against Hutch’s thigh and looked across the room toward a candle for a second as he recalled the first time Hutch had penetrated him and forced him to ejaculate. Then he glanced back. “Who knew you could come just from getting fucked in the ass, huh?”

“Look, Ma, no hands,” Hutch laughed with him.

“Do you think it will last?” Starsky wondered.

“What?”

“Coming just from getting fucked in the ass. Do you think it’ll last?”

“Wouldn’t you know that better than me?”

“Well, so far, so good, but I’m just wondering what you think.”

“How the hell would I know if it’ll last?”

“I thought maybe you read something somewhere.”

Hutch laughed at him, with affection. “I haven’t read anything about ass-fucking.”

Starsky assumed Hutch would have read about everything by then, given how voracious he was with books and newspapers and magazines. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see then,” he said. “We’ll just have to see if that kind of thing lasts.”

“I guess so,” Hutch quietly replied. He admired Starsky’s look there as he lay against him, the light in Starsky’s eyes, the peacefulness of his face, the tone in his voice, one of sheer relaxation and connection. Hutch didn’t understand why everyone thought he was the better-looking of the two. Starsky had a much more masculine appearance; he exuded maleness more than did Hutch. Between them, Hutch thought Starsky more attractive.

Starsky noticed Hutch’s attention. “What?”

“Suppose I had a hairy chest, too,” Hutch imagined. “Would that turn you off?”

“Are you looking to turn me off?”

“Hardly. I’m just askin’. Suppose I had more male features, know what I mean?”

“Oh, right,” Starsky said with sarcasm, briefly cupping Hutch’s now flaccid penis and giving it a jiggle, “like somehow I could forget that you have a humongous dick.”

“Okay,” Hutch surrendered, both frustrated and flattered. “Never mind.”

Starsky then thought Hutch’s concern might be serious, so he tried a different answer. “Nothing about you could turn me off,” he said. “Nothing. You know it’s not just how you look that gets me hot.”

Hutch watched Starsky for a minute and melted into those bedroom eyes again. He was about to thank him, to tenderly stroke his cheek, but he was interrupted.

“I like how you see me,” Starsky said.

“Yeah? How so?”

“You SEE me,” Starsky emphasized. He, too, watched the curious, welcoming look in his lover’s eyes. He caressed Hutch’s arm while he spoke, to bring intimacy to his words. “You see me,” he repeated, softly, and then explained himself. “I go back six years. Eight. I think about all that fighting we did in the beginning. All that frustration and anger we had. All the respect we had, too. THAT kept us together. We worked it out. All that working out,” he said with a quiet laugh. He could see a similar fondness for their past in Hutch’s blue eyes.

“But work it out, we did,” Starsky reminded him. “And then all those years of, you know, the cases we solved. The clues we flushed. The leads we followed. The arrests we made. The shootouts we’ve had. The stake-outs and the fist-fights. The near-death experiences we’ve been through. All that time we’ve spent together. The eating. The talking. The laughing. Man, the laughing. There hasn’t been anything we haven’t done together. Gotten sick. Used the john. Bled all over each other. Hell, we even kind of fucked the same woman together once.”

Hutch flinched. It was still a sore memory.

“I didn’t say that to hurt you,” Starsky said quickly. He squeezed Hutch’s arm to push the pain out of him. “It’s just a point I’m making. Up until this year, you know, looking back, there wasn’t anything we hadn’t done together or anything we hadn’t been through together, don’t you think?”

Hutch let Starsky know he agreed simply by softening the look in his eyes.

“You saw all that,” Starsky said. “And so, you see me like nobody else sees me, you know? You get that, right?”

Hutch nodded more noticeably. He was honored to be Starsky’s partner and to have experienced and witnessed all they had together.

“And now,” Starsky concluded, “you see all this other stuff. You see me stark naked. Every fucking part of me, parts of me nobody sees, including me.” He laughed, not embarrassed. “And you see me get laid. You see me spill jizz all over you, you know? You see me get fucked and now you see me fuck. You see me lay here afterward all drained and reminiscive.”

Hutch smiled. “I think you mean reflective.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” He pinched Hutch’s bared belly to repay him for the correction—which he realized he needed—but not so hard that it hurt Hutch. “I mean, you know, what’s left for you to know about me? Or to see?” Starsky asked.

Hutch pretended to think. “Not much, for sure.”

“Nothing,” Starsky said for him. “And, yet, despite all that, all that fighting and fucking and everything in-between, here you stay—with me.”

Hutch shrugged. The reason was obvious. “That’s love, baby—and not despite ‘all that,’ but because of it.”

“Yeah, I know. My point. I like how you see me.”