Better Than Coffee

The guys are older and still in love. Morning games keep them young.

Hutch awoke to the first rays of sunlight glistening through his window blinds. An alarm clock was a thing of the past. The need for its obnoxious morning shrill had long been retired, along with his badge, gun, stakeouts, paperwork, court dates, wise-guys, whippos, and annual police picnics.

He stretched an arm to the other side of the bed, finding his heart’s desire curled up in a sleepy lump. A warm, inviting, beautiful, sexy, curly-haired lump.

“Hmmmff,” the lump grunted, which Hutch knew translated to, “is it morning, already?”

A mop of hair and one accessible cheek peeked out from the covers. Hutch reached over and pulled the blankets down, kissing his bedmate’s shoulder. “Morning. Time to wake up.”

“Hutch,” Starsky mumbled into his pillow, “we’ve been retired for over twenty years. How often do I have to tell you that waking up with the sun is no longer necessary?”

“Waking up with the sun…” Hutch said, kissing him on the shoulder, “is the best part of the day…” a kiss to the cheek, “keeps us young…” a kiss to the nose, “and our minds sharp…“ a kiss on the lips. “Now open your eyes, gorgeous, it’s time.”

The face Hutch cherished more than life itself remained pressed into the pillow until gradually one midnight blue eye fluttered open after a series of accentuated blinks.

“How about a cup of coffee first?” Starsky mumbled.

“You know we’re trying to cut down on coffee,” Hutch said, reaching across the bed to the nightstand and handing Starsky his iPhone. “Here you go, partner.”

Starsky raised his head and sat up, a wide yawn escaping with a low rumble. “Ok, but the winner doesn’t just get breakfast in bed today.”

“Fine,” Hutch acquiesced. “What exactly does the winner get today?” He sat against the headboard, his large fingers navigating to the Wordle website on his phone.

Starsky wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll tell you when I win.”

Hutch’s eyes slid sideways. ” You’re on.” He felt the familiar tingle sweep through his body, the feeling he had countless times before from simply looking at his wildly seductive partner. He was overwhelmed with unfathomable love and gratitude every morning when he woke to this bliss.

All the more anxious to win the game, Hutch poised his fingers over his phone. “Your mark, get set….”

“Wait,” Starsky stopped the countdown. “What’s the starter word today? We said we would change it every day, to make it more interesting.”

Hutch tugged at his chin, “Right, I forgot. How about ratio ?”

“We used that yesterday, genius,” Starsky replied, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I forgot. How about skate ?” Hutch offered.

“Don’t like it; the starter word should have at least three vowels,” Starsky declared.

“I wasn’t aware we had such a rule,” Hutch replied, feigning patience. “How does irate sound to you?”

Starsky smiled, seeming to ignore how quickly Hutch’s mind jumped to a word meaning annoyed or upset. “Perfect!” Now, we can start.”

Hutch gave a satisfied nod. “Three, two, one, go.”

Hutch hastily typed the word irate in the top row and hit enter, his previous feelings of being annoyed or upset were quickly replaced by the flirtatious competition. He cast a glance at Starsky, who was shielding his phone with one hand and was somehow managing to type into the little square boxes with the other.

Hutch refocused on his phone, the results of his entry before him. “One yellow square for the a, one green square for the t.” Hutch analyzed the puzzle silently to himself, engrossed in the game.

He chanced another look at Starsky, a flurry of clicking coming from his partner.

Hutch started to sweat. He already made breakfast three times this week, and today there would be an even bigger reward. Of course, Starsky hadn’t named the prize, but Hutch knew whatever it was would be worthy of winning.

He typed his next guess, party.

“Dang it!” Hutch exclaimed to himself, pursing his lips in frustration. “I knew there was no r, what was I thinking?!”

He looked at his bedmate, who was smiling and nodding, his hand still covering his phone. Starsky turned his body away from Hutch, covering his guesses.

“Focus, Hutchinson,” Hutch reminded himself quietly. “This is all about brain power. Keeping your mind active every day. Not letting old age get the better of you.”

Hutch gathered his thoughts and punched in his third guess… hasty.

“Holy cow, now we’re getting somewhere!” Hutch said to himself, watching four green squares pop up. Only the first letter remained black.

“Don’t be too hasty, Starsk,” Hutch chuckled to himself at his pun. “I’ve got this game in the bag.”

“Let’s see.” Hutch clambered through the letters. “basty, casty, dasty…”

“Nasty! ” Hutch thought with a flash of delight, typing his fourth guess quickly into his phone.

Hutch’s confidence was dashed when only four green squares were returned. He rubbed at his furrowed brow, lost in concentration.

“Got it!” Starsky exclaimed.

Hutch jumped at Starsky’s all-too-eager pronouncement.

“All green; read’em and weep!” Starsky turned his phone to Hutch. “See? What about you?”

Hutch sighed and lowered his phone. “I was still going through the alphabet. What was the word?”

“Tasty,” grinned Starsky, leaning over to Hutch, ”just like your lips on a fresh summer morning,” he smirked, giving Hutch a big wet smooch. “You were my inspiration.”

Hutch let the warmth of Starsky’s lips wash over him. Losing didn’t have to be a bad thing.

“You win again,” Hutch admitted. “Would you mind telling me what I owe you this morning on top of breakfast in bed? Don’t tell me, let me guess, you want me to make dinner too? Polish your car? Get you some ice cream?”

“No to all the above,” Starsky said, taking Hutch’s phone from him. “Breakfast in bed is not necessary either,” he added, tossing both phones to the foot of the bed. He pushed the covers down and stroked Hutch’s heaving chest.

“Is that right?” was all Hutch could say as his heart raced at the feel of Starsky’s touch.

“I’m hungry for something else,” Starsky said with a kiss.

“Careful, Starsky, your blood pressure…”

“My blood pressure is fine, and my pills can wait a little longer,” Starsky reassured his ever-vigilant lover. “I gotta hand it to you, Hutch. Playing word games every morning does keep me sharp. On the other hand, you are about to forget your own name.”

Hutch’s mind went blank as he felt a warm, wet tongue roam over his willing body. He arched his head back, the incredible sensation stoking his desire and enveloping him in a cloud of pure adoration. He joyfully conceded defeat to the man who long since won his heart.

He would play again tomorrow, the next day, and each day after that, as long as Starsky was willing and at his side.

Beyond doubt, mornings were truly the best part of the day.