Ball Drop

104

The Times Square Ball is big. Massive, even.

 

A bit of fluffy holiday PWP. Happy New Year!

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“You know, your balls are kinda cute.”

Starsky was in a uniquely appropriate vantage point to make this pronouncement, having just finished giving Hutch a blow job. Starsky had one eye closed, and was inspecting said balls quite closely.

“No one’s balls are cute, Starsky. You’re just drunk.”

“Says who? How many have you examined, huh? Don’t answer that. And does that mean you think mine aren’t cute? Don’t answer that, either. And maybe I am drunk, but that don’t mean I’m wrong.”

Hutch—who wasn’t planning on answering either question, because he wasn’t an idiot—merely grunted.

“Now don’t misunnerstan’ me, I’m not saying they’re cutesy. ‘Cause your balls, they’re big. Like that one they just dropped in Times Square. Massive. ‘Cepting you got two o’ them. They’re—” Starsky cupped them, ran his thumb over and down, and Hutch gave a different kind of grunt. “Okay, maybe not that big. But they’re a handful. A really cute handful.”

Hutch resisted the temptation to take a look for himself, which was surprisingly difficult, probably because he was almost as drunk as Starsky was. Champagne and love were a heady combination, but this—their first New Year’s as a married couple—was an occasion worth celebrating, so they had lots and lots of both and sent the old year out with a bang… so to speak.

“You’re a cute handful,” he said, tugging at Starsky’s arm. “C’mere.”

Starsky obliged, scooting up to give Hutch a lingering kiss, then settling down to lie alongside him, his head coming to rest on Hutch’s chest.

“You were right,” he said, yawning. “This is a terrific way to ring in the New Year.”

“The best. Shall I return the favor?” Hutch asked, but wasn’t surprised when Starsky, his eyes barely open, shook his head.

“Next year,” he said.

“It is next year,” Hutch pointed out.

“Not in Hawaii.”

“What time is it in Hawaii?”

“Uh…” Starsky tried to do the math but failed. “Still this year, anyway.”

Hutch’s own eyelids were growing heavy and he knew he was only moments away from sleep as well.

“‘Kay, babe. I’ll inspect your balls next year.” He pulled Starsky in close, felt him smile against his skin.

“And the year after that?” Starsky asked as he drifted off.

“All of them, Starsk. Every last one.”