Candy Cheeks

228

Starsky wants something–something special–from Hutch, but is hesitant to ask.

Archivist’s Note: Originally, the author published her story on her own website, but I wanted to see it in print. So in 2005, the author granted my wish. Special thanks to Bliss for allowing me to publish the story in the Dangerous Lives, Dangerous Visions 3 zine. The original web posting can only be accessed through the Wayback Machine.

---

Talk to me
Tell me your dreams—am I in them?
Tell me your fears—are you scared?
Tell me your stories
I’m not afraid of who you are
We can fly!

Justify My Love, Madonna

“Hutch, remember when I went to the dentist the other day?”

A loud, undignified snort sounded from within the open fridge, followed by the sight of a gleaming blond head popping above the door. “Yeah.” Hutch closed the fridge door, a bag of red grapes in hand, and narrowed his eyes. “I remember all right, all you could talk about after you got back was the watermelon-sized—”

“Grapefruit, Hutch! I said grapefruit.”

“Right, cantaloupes,” Hutch said, deliberately misspeaking to irk Starsky. He emptied the grapes into a bowl and rinsed them in the sink. “All you could talk about was the cantaloupe-sized breasts of the hygienist, and how you didn’t even mind the cleaning because her perfumed chest was right under your nose the entire time.”

“She was just real gentle and careful, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Another snort followed the remark.

“You know, that noise is not becoming of you.”

Choosing to ignore the remark, Hutch instead popped a grape into Starsky’s mouth on his way into the living room. He flopped gracelessly onto the couch, the grapes tucked in his lap. “What? You just gonna stand there and stare at me? Come here.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come sit with me and eat some grapes and tell me your dentist story.”

“Nothin’ to tell.” Starsky’s face had fallen slightly, but he sat anyway and tucked his body against Hutch’s.

“Whatsa matter, Starsk?” Hutch put an arm around his shoulders and pulled Starsky closer against him. “Something happen at the dentist’s office?”

“Nothin’ happened. It’s just, I was flippin’ through these magazines, you know? These women’s magazines—” He stopped short at the quizzical, amused look on Hutch’s face. “What? I was bored an’ there was nothin’ else to read. So sue me.”

“It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with reading a women’s magazine.” Hutch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not. What’s the matter with you tonight, anyhow? You’re acting funny.”

Peering through narrowed eyes, Starsky didn’t deign to answer.

“Okay, so what’d you learn in this magazine?”

Starsky seemed to consider for a few moments whether he wanted to continue that line of conversation, then replied, “There was this columnist, you know? Like a sex therapist? And women write in questions and she answers them.”

“Uh-huh…”

“This one woman, she wrote and said she wanted to try some new things in bed with her husband, and didn’t know how to tell him.”

“You trying to tell me you’re my wife? I’m the husband in this relationship?”

“Of all the stupid…” Starsky muttered and pulled away. “You wanna hear this or what?”

“Sorry, go ahead.” Hutch started to pull the agitated man back against him, but Starsky refused to budge. Letting it go for the moment, Hutch said, “Come on, what advice did she get?”

“She said just to talk to him about it, just show him.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Hutch put the bowl on the coffee table. “You wanna try something new?”

Starsky nodded reluctantly.

“What is it? I’ll do anything with you, Starsk,” Hutch said, taking his hand.

“Are you sure?” Starsky questioned peevishly.

“Yes! Whatever you want to do, I’m game. Right now. Come on.” Taking the reluctant man’s hand, Hutch pulled him off the sofa.

“But what about… You wanted to watch television.”

“Are you kidding me? Watching television versus getting horizontal with you? It’s no contest. Come on, babe.” Hutch tugged at Starsky’s arm and pulled him toward the bedroom.

At the bedside, Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s waist and pulled him flush against his body. He looked into Starsky’s eyes, smiled and kissed the man deeply, stroking with his tongue, pulling back to nip gently at his lips, determined to get his partner to loosen up. It was unlike Starsky to be wound so tightly about their bedroom activities, and he’d been oddly subdued this evening.

Sliding a hand from Starsky’s hip, he brushed the back of it over his groin, feeling just the slightest evidence of tumescence. Apparently, though, that brief touch was enough to ignite Starsky, for he moved suddenly, pushing Hutch back onto the bed and clambering on top of him. He sat on Hutch’s stomach and began ravaging his mouth. Pressing damp, heated kisses to the corners of his mouth, licking at his lips, sucking fiercely at Hutch’s tongue, Starsky seemed insatiable.

Cock suddenly strangling in his pants, a low rumble sounded from Hutch’s chest. He smiled against Starsky’s mouth, and murmured against his lips, “There’s my tiger; wondered where you’d disappeared.”

Starsky mumbled something unintelligible and moved quickly off Hutch, tearing at his shirt and pants simultaneously.

“Easy, easy,” Hutch laughed, batting Starsky’s hands away. “Why don’t you take care of your clothes, I’ll take of mine? I’d like to wear this shirt again in the future!”

“Why, for Pete’s sake? Makes you look seasick,” Starsky complained as he pulled his own khaki shirt off. “Pale green is not a good color for you. Why the hell’d you buy that, anyway?”

“I didn’t, Aunt Martha sent it to me.”

“Yeah, well, she’s also the one who—”

Hutch clapped his hand over Starsky’s mouth, delaying them both in the task of removing their pants. “Please, Starsk, let’s not bring her into bed with us, huh?” His reply was in the form of a nod and a wet tickle of tongue across his palm, the latter making his cock pulse. He hissed and pulled his hand away, substituting it with his mouth and indulging in a brief kiss before they made quick work of shedding the rest of their clothing.

Seconds later, Starsky grabbed their clothing and darted to the clothes hamper, disposing of the articles there and failing to see the roll of Hutch’s eyes at his partner’s ill-timed need for order. He didn’t miss Hutch’s impatient groan as he left to lock the door and turn out the lights in the rest of the apartment.

“Hey,” he said, returning again to Hutch’s side, stopping at the bed, “you know you’re not gonna want to move after we’re done. You want those lights on all night?”

“You’re right, Starsk, thanks for taking care of that,” Hutch said, humoring him. “Now would you please get over here?”

Under the soft light of the lamp, a flash of apprehension passed over Starsky’s face, puzzling Hutch momentarily. Starsky’s expression cleared quickly, and he crawled onto the mattress. Lying on top of Hutch, their nude forms pressed together, Starsky rolled him into the pillows. He held him tightly around the ribs, nuzzling his nose into the wispy hair beneath Hutch’s ear. Inhaling deep lungfuls of the familiar, comforting scent, he sampled the taste of the skin along Hutch’s strong jaw. His lips delighted in the fine sandpaper texture of the evening stubble, then his tongue swiped thoroughly up a sideburn.

“You’re acting like one of Larry’s cats,” Hutch whispered, snickering, and tightened his grip on Starsky’s shoulders. “How appropriate that he named one of them ‘Starsky.'”

The cat’s namesake lifted his head to flash a knowing grin, then moved on to apply suction to the length of his neck. He kept the touch very light, sucking gently, liberally wetting each new bit of skin with his tongue. Bathing the entire surface of the warm column in this manner, he used barely enough force to bring a flush to the pale skin. He flattened his tongue along Hutch’s Adam’s apple for a moment and felt the solid protrusion move as he swallowed. Moving on to the hollow at the base of Hutch’s neck, he pressed his tongue to that patch of skin as well. He breathed moistly against the spot, his tongue picking up the beat of Hutch’s pounding heart there.

Awash in sensation, Hutch lay utterly still and watched Starsky in fascination. He seemed so focused, so intent to learn all the mysteries of Hutch’s body. His eyes flickered upward briefly, glancing into Hutch’s, then cast down again as he latched onto a small turgid nipple and sucked tenderly. The gentle tugging pierced Hutch to his core and his shaft surged urgently in reaction. He gasped Starsky’s name and rocked his pelvis against his friend’s belly, needy for stimulation. Sliding long fingers into Starsky’s unruly curls, he massaged his scalp gently in encouragement. “That’s so good, Starsk… oh, sweetheart, thank you…”

After the other bud had received the same languorous, loving treatment, Hutch tugged Starsky up his body, so their mouths were level. Stroking the warm length of Starsky’s back with both hands, he tilted his head up slightly to kiss him. Starsky settled into the humid kiss patiently, seemingly in no hurry for anything else. He worked Hutch’s mouth expertly, gently biting and tugging at his lips, engaging his tongue friskily, exploring the warm hollow inside.

Lost in the kisses for several minutes, Hutch ignored the thought pressing persistently at his consciousness… then suddenly acknowledged it. “Starsky,” he said with a gasp, pulling away. “Starsk, what did you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“You said you want to try something new. If we keep this up, we’re not going to get to it. What’d you want?”

“Oh, yeah…” Starsky colored rapidly.

Hutch stared at him for just a moment, perplexed by his partner’s unusual reticence. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Starsky pulled away from him and sat up. He opened his mouth, then shut it rapidly.

“You want me to guess? Okay…” Hutch thought for a moment. “You wanna tie me up?”

Starsky stared.

“Want me to tie you up?”

A negative shake of the head.

“Blindfolds?”

Starsky frowned.

“Want to get spanked?” Hutch colored as he said it, then whispered, “You wanna spank me?”

“No!” Starsky replied to both, flushing furiously.

Noting his heightened reaction, Hutch started, “Starsky, it’s okay if you want to be spanked. It can be fun in the—”

“I don’t want to be spanked!” Starsky interrupted, fairly shrieking in his nervousness. “My mother did that, I don’t need my lover repeating the experience, thank you very much!”

“Good grief, then, how much kinkier can it be? You want to try whips and chains? What are you so worked up about? Tell me. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”

“I saw…” Starsky swallowed, searching Hutch’s face before continuing. “I saw this thing in an ad and it was so hot… And then I thought about you and—and it’s stupid but I… I pictured you… and I couldn’t get it out of my head. And I didn’t know how to tell you—”

“Starsk, there’s no need to be so nervous. It’s just me you’re talking to, buddy. Just show me, already.”

Starsky swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and opened the second drawer of his night table, clutching a scrap of bright fabric in one fist. Not meeting Hutch’s eyes, he smoothed it out carefully between them on the bedspread.

Staring at the pink fabric for a few moments, it dawned on Hutch exactly what the item was. “A threesome?”

Starsky’s head shot up. “What?” he exclaimed.

“You telling me you want a threesome?”

“Why in the hell would you think that?”

“That’s—those—that’s a pair of—of panties, isn’t it? I thought—”

“It’s for us.”

“Us?” Slack-jawed one second, Hutch tried desperately to swallow his shocked grin in the next. “You wanna wear those?” The laughter bubbled out and he clamped a hand over his own mouth.

“No, I wa-was… I was hoping, I mean, I wondered if you wouldn’t mind… if you would wear them,” Starsky finished breathlessly, dismayed.

“Me? You-you—” Hutch was laughing too hard, and tried a third time, “Y-you want me to put those on? Are you serious?”

Trying to hang on to his dignity, Starsky looked him in the eyes. “Well, yeah.”

“Oh, God!” Hutch dissolved into laughter, falling backward onto the mattress, body shaking in hysterics. A moment later, he felt the bed dip and opened his eyes to see Starsky walking away. His rigid posture was a sign of trouble and Hutch’s laughter dried up at once. “Where are you going?”

“Forget it.”

“What? Starsk, wait—” He leapt off the bed and bounded after Starsky, almost catching up with him in the bathroom, only to have the door shut firmly in his face. “Starsky, come on—I’m sorry—come on out, babe.”

“Never mind.”

“Buddy, I’m sorry, you… I was just—”

“Forget about it,” Starsky interrupted.

“Starsk—” The shower turned on full force behind the closed door. “Shit,” Hutch said under his breath, lightly smacking his hand against the door. He pressed his forehead to the wood, listening to the noises from the other side: Starsky pushing aside the shower curtain and pulling it back in place as he stepped into the tub, and the sound of the water muting as he stepped under the flow. He imagined Starsky’s trim, tanned body beneath the spray, the rivulets of water streaming down his belly and groin and thighs… and moaned as his own pulsing cock reminded him of its excited state.

“Shit, Hutchinson,” he muttered as he turned away from the door, “you screwed that up.” He looked at his half-hard erection, and pushed forcefully against it with a palm. “Down,” he willed. “You don’t deserve it, you’re in the doghouse,” he muttered to it as he walked back into the bedroom.

He stopped short at the sight of the underwear on the bed, shocking in its brightness against the white bedspread. He approached it carefully, as if sneaking up on it, then laughed at his own apprehension in the face of a harmless piece of fabric. Looking quickly out of the bedroom, he registered the sound of the shower still running. Slowly, he sat on the bed and just stared at the material, cataloguing everything he could about it by sight.

A bright pink material, the sheer, lacey underwear appeared soft and silky. Rectangular in shape, the garment was designed almost like a man’s swim shorts, except not even the smallest, tightest trunks he’d ever seen were that short or see-through, nor such a flirtatious color with—was that a curlie-cue pattern embroidered in the lace? The cut was more-or-less straight at the waist and the legs, with an enticing dip in the waist, both in front and back, meant to line up beneath the navel and the top of the cleavage of a woman’s buttocks. His own buttocks. Starsky had meant for him to wear this… this vexing item.

Curious, he picked it up, startled to discover that the fabric was almost weightless in his palm. He held it between his big fists and tugged, testing the stretchiness of the lace. Peeking inside, he discovered the tiny price tag still intact. Grinning, he lifted it out and carefully tugged it off. “You spent twelve dollars on this, Starsk?” he asked the absent man. “For this—Band-aid?” Investigating further, he squinted at the label sewn into the side. “Nylon… cotton… spandex… extra-large! Just how large does he think my ass is?” he muttered. “You’re supposed to wash these things first, aren’t you…?”

Ten minutes later, Hutch had turned down the bed and sat at the edge of the mattress, legs together, the belt of his brand new white robe knotted firmly around his waist. The shower had just stopped running, and his hands clenched and unclenched upon his knees as he waited for Starsky to return. The bathroom door opened a few minutes later, but Starsky didn’t come back. From Hutch’s vantage point, he couldn’t see the other man at all.

“Starsk?” he called out.

“What?”

“What are you doing, babe?”

“Nothin’.”

“You mind coming in here?” Silence. “Please?”

A minute later, Starsky came in, a towel draped around his neck and a tightly belted blue robe around this body. “What?”

Hutch patted a spot beside him on the mattress. “Can I talk to you?”

Hands fisted around the towel hanging from his neck, his body rigid and posture defensive, Starsky just stared at him.

“Please?” Hutch patted the mattress again, and his repeated use of the plea broke through Starsky’s stern demeanor. He sighed softly and moved to sit next to his partner.

Putting his arm around Starsky’s waist, Hutch tentatively laid his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I was just surprised. Honestly. I… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know that was hard for you, to-to tell me that. What you wanted.”

Starsky looked at him as if surprised at his level of understanding. “It’s okay,” he repeated, and looked away. “Was a stupid idea, anyway.”

“No. No, it wasn’t. You… you want to try again?”

“Not in the mood. I just wanna go to bed.”

Hutch lifted his head from his shoulder, and studied the other man’s set profile a moment. Without speaking, he took Starsky’s hand, drew it down between his own legs, beyond the folds of his robe, and pressed the palm to his genitals.

Starsky’s mouth formed a startled “O” and he pulled his hand away as if burned, eyes wide in surprise and sudden arousal. “You-you’re wearing it!”

Pulling the towel off from around Starsky’s neck, Hutch nodded. He draped the towel on Starsky’s head and rubbed tenderly along the still-wet curls, looking into his eyes as he did so, slowly realigning their connection. He dropped the towel and hugged Starsky firmly, whispering warmly into his ear. “It feels really good, Starsk. Feels… so soft and light, like there’s hardly anything there. But still, I feel hugged and cradled, like… there’s this constant, delicate pressure… and it’s driving me insane!” He nipped gently at Starsky’s earlobe. “You’ve got good taste, Starsk,” he finished, a smile in his voice.

Starsky tentatively put his hand back on Hutch’s crotch, and stroked gently several times, savoring the heat of Hutch’s excitement beneath the silky texture of the garment. “Can I see?” he asked, emboldened by the love shining from Hutch’s eyes and the mound firming under his massaging palm.

“Yeah,” Hutch replied shyly. Then, in a sly tone, “Show you mine if you show me yours.”

“You got a deal, candy cheeks,” Starsky said, peeling off his robe and grinning, and Hutch flushed at the comment, but felt completely forgiven. Hesitantly, he took off his own robe but held it against his body defensively as he took in his partner’s fine, nude form.

“Come on, Hutch. I did my part. Let me see you, lemme see how gorgeous you look.” Starsky reached for the garment and Hutch handed it to him reluctantly. Both their robes fell to the floor, forgotten, at the sight of Hutch clad only in the underwear. “Oh, God. Oh, Hutch…”

“What?” Hutch said, crossing his arms across his chest and visibly battling the urge to cover his crotch. “It looks ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“No… no, Hutch. You look… amazing. Just like…” Starsky swallowed with some difficulty. “Just like I imagined. Turn around? Let me see the back of you.”

Hutch completed an anxious turn, and Starsky laughed weakly. “Oh, boy, ‘candy cheeks’ was right. Get in bed, Hutch. Right now. I gotta play with you right now.”

“I’ve created a monster,” Hutch laughed, more reassured. He complied with Starsky’s directions, lying sideways across the mattress on his back.

Starsky immediately crawled onto him, straddling his knees and drinking in the sight of Hutch stretched out in front of him. The underwear sat so low on his hips that a few golden pubic hairs peeked out. Starsky rubbed across the strands with the tip of a finger, thrilled by the glimpse of hair. “Wow, oh, wow. It’s a perfect fit, Hutch. And so… sheer. I can see all of you wound around and tucked in there,” he said, his eyes tracing the organs under the lace in fascination. “How’d you fit everything in there?”

“Wasn’t easy, but you did a good job with the size.”

“Yeah, I had to kinda guess… Took into account your strong hips and your big package, and averaged it out.” Starsky grinned, and placed his hands on Hutch’s legs and stroked to the scalloped edges of the underwear. He sighed, brushing his thumbs back and forth across the lace for a few moments, then leapt without warning, cupping both hands around the substantial mound of Hutch’s genitals.

“Oh, shit!” Hutch yelped, arching into Starsky’s hands. “Give a guy some warning!”

Starsky just laughed, gently massaging both palms over his bulky prize.

“What’s so… Oh, babe, that feels so good…” Hutch gasped, bunching the sheets within his fists. “What’s so special about this underwear? It’s just like a pair of men’s shorts, only pink. And really tight.”

“Ah-ah, can’t find a pair this hot in the men’s department.”

“Oh, good lord, yes, right there… press harder, Starsky… more…” Hutch instructed, inflamed by Starsky’s too-light touch along his perineum, and then continued his questioning. “What do you find so appealing about this?”

“It’s the… what do they call it? Can’t think right now. It’s seeing you, my blond beauty, my big, tough guy, wearin’ this delicate, feminine underwear. You’re all man, all mine, even if you’re wearin’ something pretty and lacey. God, it does somethin’ fierce to me.”

Breathing hard, Hutch supplied the missing word, “Contrast.”

“What? Oh, yeah, it’s the contrast, the contradiction, of you and the underwear. You with your big bones and muscles and your miles and miles of pale, pale flesh…” Starsky stroked the silken skin of Hutch’s sleekly muscled chest. “That underwear’s practically glowing against you.” He made a satisfied sound. “I did a good job, pickin’ that color for you. Thought about red and black, too, but d’you know, Hutch, I got a hard-on in the lingerie store, just thinking about you in pink? And that’s how I knew to pick this one.”

“You were in a lingerie store, dummy! No wonder you got hard.”

“Nope, it didn’t happen till I pictured you wearing this. My cock knew,” he said arrogantly, and pressed his face into Hutch’s groin.

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled in a panic a moment later, “watch the teeth! That material’s even thinner than it looks!”

“Oops, sorry,” Starsky apologized, soothing the irritated area with chaste, teasing kisses, and lifted his head. “Look, Hutch, you’re really leakin’, gettin’ so wet. I can see it right through the lace…” he drifted off, mesmerized, and massaged the crown of Hutch’s cock through the material with his thumb and forefinger, spreading the moisture. “Thank you for wearing this, Hutch,” he whispered. “I thought you’d…”

“What? You thought I’d rise up in my offended masculinity and throttle you?” Hutch’s laughter dissolved into a moan as Starsky grabbed his sac and squeezed gently, while continuing to massage his penis. “Oh, please… Oh, Starsky… I swear to God, I’d wear a hot pink tutu right now if you’ll just keep doing that!”

“No, thank you. Not necessary,” Starsky quickly vetoed the idea, shuddering at the thought. He chortled in delight at Hutch’s pleasure and doubled his efforts, treating the organs to achingly tender and careful touches.

Helpless with the pleasure of it, Hutch predicted, “Ummm… you’re going to kill me one day with your enthusiasm. Never had anyone love me so thoroughly.”

“That’s right, baby, only me. Wanna know everything about you. We’re going to play together forever.”

Hutch raised his upper body from the mattress, reaching for Starsky’s shoulders, but the other man gently pushed his hands away. “What are you doing?”

“I want to touch you, too, wanna do something for you.” Hutch attempted again to pull him closer.

“No, babe,” Starsky wrapped his fingers around the heavy, broad wrists and kissed the heels of both hands. “You just lie back and twist up the sheets some more,” he said with a crooked grin, pushing Hutch’s arms down to the linens. “You are doing something for me. Wearing this, letting me play with you, that’s all I want. It’s incredible.”

“Yeah, but what about…?” Hutch raised an eyebrow and looked significantly at Starsky’s groin, where his penis exhibited a remarkable state of excitement, the glistening head almost plum with engorgement.

“Oh, yeah,” Starsky acknowledged, reaching down and giving himself a firm squeeze. “He perked up way too quickly just from the sight a’ you, but he’s got a ways to go. Don’t you worry about him, Hutch. He’s gonna get what he wants sooner or later.”

Giving up and dropping his head to the sheets, Hutch laughed and made an effort to relax.

Starsky leaned forward and rested his hands on the sides of Hutch’s head for a moment and kissed him, then began sweeping both hands down his lover’s body, leisurely stroking everything within reach. He brushed his hands over the long, strong neck, then the broad, powerful shoulders, muscled ribs and chest, the pecs topped with tiny, dusky nipples, which he couldn’t help kissing. His lips traveled over the lean stomach, then the wide belly button, the edges of which he nipped with gentle bites as he passed it. He completely bypassed the groin, evoking a mournful sound from Hutch. “Don’t worry, Blondie,” he assured, eyeing the straining fabric, the growing wet spot and the phallus demanding release. “He’ll get his turn.”

Patting his flanks, Starsky got him to lift them, then settled between his legs. He stroked the powerful thighs admiringly and nibbled the kneecaps. Scratching Hutch’s outer thighs lightly with neatly trimmed fingernails, he treated the inner thighs to dry kisses and tender bites. All of this he did to the soundtrack of Hutch’s soft, contented sighs.

Satisfied that he’d covered as much of the front of Hutch’s body as possible, he moved to Hutch’s side and tapped his hip. “Get on your belly.”

“But what about—”

“He’ll get his turn,” Starsky repeated, interrupting. “Patience, Hutch. Turn around, you’re gonna like this.”

Emitting a long-suffering sigh, Hutch turned lethargically onto his stomach.

Starsky grabbed a bottle of lavender-scented massage oil from the nightstand and settled on Hutch’s ass, unable to help rubbing his erection between Hutch’s cheeks.

“Not fair,” Hutch mumbled.

“Sorry, you’re so hot, I couldn’t help myself.” Exercising tremendous self-control, Starsky stopped his grinding. He unscrewed the small glass bottle and drizzled a liberal amount onto Hutch’s back and shoulders, grinning at the sound of the pleased sigh.

Rubbing his hands together to spread the oil evenly, Starsky placed his palms on the back of Hutch’s neck and stroked gently, working his way down to the tightly bunched shoulders. “We haven’t done this for a long time, darlin’. You’re all tense and knotted up.”

“Blame it on this difficult, uncontrollable, wild-child of a partner I have to work with,” Hutch mumbled, and jumped when Starsky released a bark of laughter.

After he’d spent several minutes on his shoulders, Starsky moved on to Hutch’s muscular back, spreading his palms on either side and stroking heavily to his lower back. Relishing the feeling of the solid, heavy flesh underneath his hands, he manipulated it thoroughly ’til Hutch murmured something about feeling boneless. Starsky moved off Hutch and reached underneath him, then laughed and quipped, “You’re not completely boneless!”

“You gonna do something about that, or you just gonna gawk at it in the pretty panties?” Hutch grumbled, frustrated with the lack of attention to his penis.

“In time, in time. Right now, candy cheeks, I gotta have some fun with what we started this whole thing for.”

“Good grief. Am I stuck with that name now?”

“Not if you don’t like it,” Starsky offered considerately.

“Gotta think about it.”

“‘Kay. You take your time. I’ve got some playing to do.”

“Hold on a sec, gotta fix something,” Hutch said, lifting his pelvis off the bed and reaching a hand underneath.

“What are you doing? You better not be playin’ with that boy!”

Hutch just heaved a sigh of relief and pulled his hand away seconds later, lying flat again. “All done.”

“Okay.” Starsky sat on the back of Hutch’s knees and framed his ass with his hands, finally taking the time to study his exciting prize draped in the sheer fabric. “Mr. Hutchinson, you have a fine ass.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Starsky.”

“And oh, boy, you’re so pretty, too.” He traced his fingers along the almost-transparent spots within the underwear, where he could see though to Hutch’s skin.

“Tickles.”

“You like it?”

“Think so.”

Smiling, Starsky trailed his fingers along the edges of the garment, which cut a delicate path an inch above the bottom of each cheek, causing the skin to break out in gooseflesh. Inching his fingers under the fabric, he gripped the cheeks firmly, kneading with his fingers, then leaned down and nuzzled the parts with his face, drawing a gasp from Hutch. Enjoying the feel of the taut globes, he played in this manner for several minutes, then changed tactics without warning. Pulling up the fabric as much as he could, halfway up the cheeks, he began delivering the first of dozens of tiny, tender love bites and kisses.

“Starsky!” Hutch roared in surprise and pleasure, pulled suddenly out of his relaxed state.

His mouth still busy feasting on the bottom of Hutch’s cheeks, Starsky flushed with the joy of pulling that reaction from his lover. After he’d treated both buttocks and even the upper thighs and lower back to the pleasant nibbling, Starsky sat up and rubbed calming circles on the cheeks. “Hey, Hutch. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I could swear you got a little excited earlier on the topic of spankings…” Starsky pulled down the underwear to below the cheeks, where it framed Hutch’s square ass to perfection.

Body tensing, Hutch began to protest, “Starsky—no—”

“Oooohhh, yes…”

“Sweetheart—”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, babe. Can’t hide it from me, I know you want it.”

“No—”

“Hush. Just lie there and enjoy it. Here comes the first one…”

Bracing himself for a blow, Hutch was surprised when it turned out to be just a gentle pat, the first of many loving taps.

“I’m disappointed, darlin’. Thought you knew me better. I’d never hurt you. Just warming you up a little.”

“I know, just thought maybe this was payback for laughing—”

“No way, we’re past that, Hutch, aren’t we?”

Hutch nodded, reaching back with his hand. Starsky took it and Hutch squeezed briefly, needing the contact, then let him go.

“Lookit, your cheeks are blushin’ almost the same color as the undies… D’you like this?” Starsky asked, continuing the petting and kneading.

“Love it. You can ‘spank’ me like this anytime,” Hutch laughed, relishing the gentle attention to his bottom.

“Good,” Starsky said, delivering a final affectionate smack to each cheek and pulling up the underwear, then said, “Turn around.”

“Finally!” Hutch said, turning and flopping heavily onto his back.

“Hey!” Starsky cried. “What’s this?”

“What?”

Starsky indicated the several inches of hard penis escaping above the top of the underwear and lying flat on Hutch’s stomach, reaching past his navel. “This! He’s not supposed to be out yet, Hutchinson. We’re doing this on my timetable! Didja let him out?”

“I couldn’t help it. You neglected it for so long, it was getting uncomfortable.”

“Well, too bad. He’s going back in.” Starsky pulled up the underwear with one hand and gripped Hutch’s cock with the other.

“Starsky! There’s no way it’ll fit back in there!”

“Oh, yeah? Watch me.” He frowned in concentration and started trying to stuff the slick, turgid flesh back into the underwear.

Amused, and getting increasingly aroused by the fondling, Hutch crossed his arms behind his head and watched. The more Starsky touched him, the more engorged he became, and the harder it was to manipulate the organ.

Biting his lip, Starsky gave a final push and got the swollen shaft just barely in, then snapped the underwear back into place. “Ah-hah,” he cried in triumph, then moaned in dismay when the shaft popped back out mere seconds later. “Aw, fuck! What do I have to do to get ya back in there?!” Muttering increasingly inventive curses, he tried several more times, with the same disappointing results.

He looked up, seemingly furious, and Hutch broke into laughter at the seriousness on his face and the farcical circumstances. “Oh, God, Starsk!” he said, gasping for breath, “only us!”

Starsky maintained the mock-stern facade for a moment longer and gave in, matching Hutch’s mirth. Moments later, weak with laughter and clutching his stomach, he collapsed onto the bed, lying next to Hutch. “It’s all your fault!”

“What?”

“Havin’ such a big dick!” Starsky choked out in between laughing. “Any normal sized dick woulda fit right back in there!”

Flush with merriment and pleasure and embarrassment from the comment, Hutch retorted, “Don’t hear you complaining most of the time.”

“Yeah, only when you try to stuff that monster up my ass!” Starsky said, turning to face Hutch.

He meant it in jest but Hutch sobered immediately. “Shit, Starsk, I know it isn’t easy for you but you keep pushing—”

“Oh, oh, baby—” Starsky grabbed Hutch around the shoulders and pulled him close. “Hutch, I was just kidding. It’s a little difficult sometimes, but it’ll get better. And you always end up sendin’ me into orbit. I love it, I love havin’ you in me.”

Hutch sighed. “I think we’re doing something wrong. It shouldn’t be uncomfortable at all.”

Kissing his cheek, Starsky reassured him, “It gets easier every time, Hutch, I swear. I think it’s just a matter of getting used to it. It’s much better for you now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but… we’ve been doing it the same amount of time…”

“Our bodies are just different, that’s all. It always ends up being so good for me, I wouldn’t trade it, seriously.”

Blue eyes solemn and sober, Hutch just gazed at him.

“Please believe me, Hutch. I love it, honest.” He leaned in and whispered hotly into Hutch’s ear, “I love it when you’re so deep inside me and you touch that special spot… and there’s nothing in my world except you. You make me feel so good, fill me up so completely, I don’t need anything else.” He kissed Hutch with all the passion inside of him, then pulled back in satisfaction to see the daze of pleasure in his eyes. “You believe me?”

Hutch blinked as if to remind himself what they’d been talking about. “Yeah.” He swallowed convulsively. “I also trust you to stop me anytime it hurts.”

“Of course,” Starsky said and pushed Hutch onto his back. Climbing on top of him, he aligned their genitals. “You feel that, Hutch? You feel how hard I am? That’s all for you.”

“Yeah, and we haven’t even touched you yet. I wish you’d let me—”

“Naw, I’m getting plenty of pleasure, trust me.” He rocked his pelvis against Hutch’s, experimentally. “Oh, that feels good.” He did it several more times as he spoke. “I like the softness of the undies and the heat and hardness of you under that. And you look so pretty, my beautiful blondie. Boy, this was a fantastic idea. Feels great against—” He made a helpless animal sound and shuddered. “Feels good against my cock. And my balls love alla that warmth and silk, love touching your warm balls.” He rubbed against Hutch twice more and then forced himself to stop, a tight grimace on his face.

“Why are you stopping? Go on.”

“Won’t be able to control myself. Think I might—come.”

“So? That’s the point of all this, isn’t it? Go on, Starsk, if it feels good, do it.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Hutch pushed up against Starsky, igniting him again. “Do it, Starsk. Let me feel you, baby, let me see you taking your pleasure. Come on, right against me, rub against me.” He ground himself against Starsky’s crotch again, making him wince in gratification.

“O-okay, you convinced me,” he said in a husky voice, and smiled weakly. Tucking his hands below Hutch’s armpits, underneath his shoulder blades, he laid his head on the juncture of neck and shoulder. Slowly, he began rocking against Hutch in earnest, moaning occasionally, his need too great now to contemplate stopping.

Wrapping his arms around Starsky, Hutch stroked his sweat-slicked back as Starsky thrust urgently against him. Lovingly, he massaged the back of his warm, damp neck and rubbed along his spine, down to the small of his back, relishing the feel of the small patch of body hair there. “That’s it, that’s it, feels great, doesn’t it?”

Starsky was beyond answering, and as his motions became more frenzied, Hutch bit his lip and used all his self-control to keep from coming. He wanted to be present to fully enjoy seeing the pleasure on Starsky’s face. It wasn’t often that they came separately, which was perhaps why Starsky had hesitated to seek his own completion earlier.

He knew of Starsky’s imminent explosion when his hands clutched tightly at Hutch’s shoulder blades; his respiration became harsh and loud and moist against his neck, and his moans increasingly fractured.

“Starsk?” He rubbed his back in gentle circles. “Starsk? Look at me. Let me see your face, sweetheart. Let me see your face when you come. Starsk?”

With great effort, Starsky lifted his head from Hutch’s shoulder. His sapphire eyes were narrowed to slits, and he seemed to be forcing them to stay open for Hutch. His face was gleaming and two bright spots of color high on his cheeks indicated the ferocity of his arousal. Grinding even harder against Hutch, he suddenly seized and gasped. Straining to keep his eyes locked with Hutch’s, he lost the battle. He moaned low in his chest and spilled himself between Hutch’s legs. Then, breathing hard and shaking, he collapsed onto his lover’s body.

“Good, good,” Hutch crooned lowly into his ear, still fighting his own needs to provide Starsky a place to rest for a few moments. “Don’t you feel better now, huh? There, just lay there.”

“Never was this good with anyone else,” Starsky said, his voice hushed.

“For me, too, Starsk. It’s because we love each other so much.” Resting one hand firmly on Starsky’s back and stroking his damp curls with the other, Hutch whispered soothing words into his ear, and slowly, Starsky’s trembling body began to calm.

When several minutes had passed and Starsky hadn’t moved, Hutch lost his fight to stay quiet. His arousal peaked suddenly and a desperate moan escaped him. Starsky stirred at the sound. A moment later, he shook his head and slid off Hutch’s body, wincing when his motion jarred Hutch’s erection and he moaned again.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, babe. I think… I think I fell asleep.” Seeing the swollen, angry evidence of Hutch’s arousal, he said, “My poor baby, you haven’t come yet. And… oh, God, how long have we kept you in this?” He hurried to get the constricting underwear off Hutch. Tugging quickly, he pulled it off and flung it behind him, not caring where it landed.

Once freed, Hutch closed his eyes and gripped himself tightly, one hand on his shaft and the other cupping his sac. He could feel the motions of Starsky moving around on the bed, but paid no attention, desperate to bring himself off. As he started stroking, Starsky’s voice interrupted. “Hutch? Hutch, come on, come over here.”

Raising his head from the mattress, Hutch peered at him, taking in the scene. Starsky lay against the pillows, legs bent and spread, a tube of lubrication in his hand. “Come here,” he repeated.

“No, you’re exhausted and I’m… I don’t have enough control—”

Uncapping the lube, Starsky coaxed, “You won’t hurt me, Hutch, you’d never do that. Come here, I want you inside me, baby, real bad.” Seeing Hutch shudder in reaction to his words, Starsky knew it was a matter of moments before he gave in. He squeezed a generous dollop of the gel onto his finger, then deliberately, knowing Hutch’s eyes were on him, he reached between his legs and applied it to himself. He spread the liquid around and inside his opening, lingering longer than necessary in order to entice Hutch into motion. “Don’t you want to, Hutch?” he pouted. “Come here and I’ll put some of this on you and you can… come inside me and make me feel real good.”

“Oh, God, you tease,” Hutch mumbled and crawled quickly to him. He knelt between his open legs and clamped his hands onto Starsky’s knees.

“Come a little closer, Hutch. I didn’t have a chance to taste you earlier. Give me just a little taste before I put this on you, huh? Please.”

“Star-sky,” Hutch growled, shaking, “you’re playing with fire. I don’t have much time.”

“Just a taste of your sweet cock, huh? Please?”

“Starsk,” Hutch started, then gave in and shuffled closer, bracing his hands on the wall above Starsky’s head. Feeling hands curving around his ass, he looked down to see Starsky leaning toward his body while simultaneously pulling him closer. As if in slow motion, he watched Starsky’s mouth open, just the tip of his pink tongue peek out… and then suddenly his mouth engulfed the rosy crown of Hutch’s cock.

Unable to form words, Hutch just threw his head back and roared hoarsely, using every ounce of self control to keep from coming, to keep from thrusting into the wet heat of Starsky’s mouth. Starsky sucked and licked as if he had a lollipop in his mouth, the tight, hot suction nearly undoing Hutch. He worried the slit with his pointed tongue tip, cleaning it of the fluid seeping out, and alternated that with swabs of his tongue all around the heated, swollen glans. The sweet torment went on for a couple of minutes and then Starsky let him slip out; a liquid, popping sound accompanied his release from the suction.

Hutch looked down to see a puckish expression on Starsky’s upturned face. His eyes widened in shock as Starsky deliberately licked his lips and made a pleased sound. “That was delicious… now how about getting down offa that wall and giving me some more right here,” Starsky said, sighing. Mesmerized, Hutch watched as Starsky laid a hand on his own crotch, rubbing slowly along his wet, sated sex down to cup his tender scrotum.

“God, Starsk!”

Starsky laughed riotously. “Well, get down here, then!”

Crouching quickly between Starsky’s legs again, Hutch tilted his hips forward, and Starsky took him gently within his hands, lovingly spreading lubrication all over him. “He’s ready, isn’t he?” Starsky whispered. “Poor boy, I made him wait so long…” Just for the hell of it, he took the fragile sac between his hands, tenderly slicking a little lube over it as well. “And your poor balls, they’re aching, too, aren’t they, Hutch?”

Hutch just whimpered and tightened his hands upon Starsky’s thighs.

“Now,” Starsky said, wrapping his fingers around Hutch’s slick penis and pulling slowly, “You gonna get inside of me, or you just want me to play with this monster all night?”

Grabbing Starsky around the knees, Hutch pulled him up so that the backs of his spread thighs rested upon Hutch’s. “Lift up,” he said, and squeezed a high pillow beneath Starsky’s tailbone. Peering at the tiny bud of Starsky’s anus, he took the lubrication, forgotten in his lover’s hands, and squeezed it onto his index finger. Capping the tube, he dropped it onto the sheets and reached between Starsky’s legs.

“I’m already pretty wet, Hutch.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Hutch said, spreading a liberal amount within Starsky’s opening.

“Any more of that and I’m gonna drown!”

Paying the words no attention, Hutch gently inserted both thumbs into Starsky, stretching and warming the muscles.

“Come on, Hutch, get in there already!”

“You still seem pretty tight…”

“I’m fine! I’m ready! Your poor cock’s gonna explode if you don’t hurry it up already.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t, Hutch, you won’t. Now, please, get inside of me? Arghh,” Starsky growled in frustration.

Hutch leaned forward and dropped a chaste peck onto his forehead and a lingering kiss on his lips. Leaning back, he took his own shaft in hand and touched it to Starsky’s opening, pushing carefully. He shuddered with the incredible sensations as the bud pulsed around the very tip of his cock. Taking Starsky’s buttocks in hand, he lifted him slightly and pulled him forward as he pushed.

Exhaling loudly, Starsky bore down, determined to make the entry as fast and easy as possible for both of them. “Come on, Hutch, this is great, come on…” He winced in pain as the broad head popped past the tight ring, then his eyes widened in shock at the bulk inside his passage. “Wait—” he said, chest heaving, “just a—minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Hutch reassured, shaking with desire but powerful with the need not to hurt Starsky.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Starsky ground out, “every time we do this, I wonder how the hell you’re gonna get in but—”

“Are you hurting a lot? Let me pull out and—”

“No!” Starsky yelped, and squeezed Hutch’s chest between his legs to prevent him from moving. “No—I just need a minute. I just… I always wonder how you’re going to get in, but you do, every time, and you make it so fantastic for me. You’re so gentle, Hutch, and so loving and I wouldn’t give this up for anything.”

“Oh, buddy…” Hutch pulled his hands from Starsky’s buttocks and cupped his face. “I love you so much, Starsk. You always make it good for me, too.”

Starsky smiled broadly in pleasure and turned his head to kiss Hutch’s palm. Then, taking a deep breath, he said, “‘Kay, Hutch, come on in. I’m ready.”

Slipping his hands to Starsky’s waist, he held tightly and slowly, steadily pushed forward, vigilant for any further signs of discomfort from Starsky. Finally seated deeply within the snug, hot passage, he released Starsky’s waist and reached for his hands. “You okay?”

“Better than okay, I’m on the moon.” He gripped Hutch’s damp hands tightly, then took in his strained countenance. Starsky’s own face was impassive, but the impish look was back in his eyes. “Now, you just gonna sit there, or you gonna fuck me with that flagpole you call a dick?” He knew he’d used the right words when Hutch tensed, a slightly panicked and bemused look on his face. “You heard me, Blondie, fuck me already!”

“So damned crude,” Hutch muttered.

“You know you like it!”

Hutch laughed, shaken from his tight control, and pulled back carefully to thrust slowly, his pumping eased by the abundant lubrication. He repeated the motion a little faster, beginning to establish a rhythm. “You asked for it, here it comes,” he said, thrusting again, much too carefully for Starsky’s liking.

“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and really give it to me?” Starsky said, his open, joyful countenance at odds with his sullen tone. “Harder. Put your back into it, boy.”

“God, Starsk, you could tempt a nun,” Hutch said, mesmerized by Starsky’s expression and the sweaty ringlets framing his flushed face, the curls vibrating to Hutch’s thrusts. He reared back again and pushing forward mightily.

“I could, but it’s a good thing—” Starsky gasped at the force of the next powerful thrust,

“—it’s a good thing I don’t have to.” Another push forward rocked them both, and Starsky moaned, “Oh, babe, that’s so good.” The next strong stab hit Starsky’s prostate, and he bucked up, shouting, “Right there! Oh, God, right there, Hutch! Please, please, please, oh please…” he begged.

Laughing his joy at Starsky’s pleasure, Hutch kept up a steady pace, making sure to push at the same angle as much as he could. Just looking at his friend’s face, the way he’d light up, it was obvious each time he hit that special spot inside him.

“Oh, boy,” Starsky exclaimed moments later, “I still got it!”

“What?”

Starsky nodded at his own penis, which was rapidly showing signs of life. “I’m ready to go again!”

Hutch opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment about his own prowess in helping Starsky achieve his second erection that evening, but his heart wasn’t into it. Instead, he said simply, “Yeah, Starsk, that’s terrific… let’s see if we can come together, huh?”

Nodding, Starsky looked up at him again, studying him in silence, while Hutch continued his steady thrusts, his big body shaking with effort and shocks of pleasure. His hair was plastered to his scalp with moisture, face flushed and dripping sweat onto Starsky’s belly—and Starsky had never seen anything more breathtaking. “You should see yourself, Hutch,” he whispered in reverence, “you’re beautiful. So… intense.”

“I see something even more beautiful.”

“What’s that?”

“Face of an angel.”

Starsky smiled his pleasure and insisted, “The view’s better from down here.” He clenched his muscles tightly to squeeze Hutch within his own passage.

Hutch gasped hugely and closed his eyes briefly in reaction to the intimate hug. “Starsk, I’m not gonna last!”

“Don’t hafta, Hutch, don’t hafta last.” Starsky tightened his sweaty grip on Hutch’s hands, squeezing as hard as he could and relishing the returned pressure from Hutch. “Don’t hold back. Come on. I’ll be right with you!” Clenching his internal muscles repeatedly, meeting Hutch’s thrusts, Starsky drove them toward climax as Hutch pounded into him vigorously. He looked into Hutch’s eyes, his unblinking gaze hungry, and said, “Come on, Hutch, come inside me. I feel so special when you do that, love. To know you’re inside of me and leavin’ a part of you behind…” His words pushed Hutch over the edge and a moment later, he felt Hutch expand inside of him and stiffen and—

“Oh, God, Starsk, I love you!” Hutch roared his release, and erupted within Starsky, trembling powerfully. His orgasm triggered Starsky’s, who spent himself against Hutch’s belly for the second time that night.

Shuddering, Hutch pulled his hands from Starsky’s and carefully lay on top of him, his throbbing organ still clasped snugly within the heat of Starsky’s body. Hearts pounding against one another, respiration rapid, their sweating bodies shook in reaction to the powerful orgasms.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, until Starsky muttered what sounded like, “Rode hard n’ put away wet.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Starsky replied and turned them onto their sides. Since Hutch was utterly immobile, Starsky reached down and gently tugged him out of his body, hissing lowly as he did so.

Instantly, Hutch asked, “Did that hurt?” and his head came off the pillow, bumping with Starsky’s.

“No, was just a little uncomfortable. But knocking heads with you did hurt,” he groused, rubbing his temple.

“Sorry,” Hutch said, and dropped his head to the pillow again, eyes closing.

“It’s okay. We gotta get cleaned up anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious, Hutch, get up.”

“Go on. Right behind you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Hutch felt the bed dip as Starsky left, and he drifted off…

…And was awakened who-knew-how-much-later by the pleasant sensation of a warm, damp towel rubbing across him in broad sweeps. Eyes closed, he mumbled, “Thank you, love you…”

A few minutes later, he woke again and smiled at the deliciously careful handling of his genitals. Some intense plucking and manipulation of his foreskin, while not at all uncomfortable, puzzled him and he opened his eyes again to see Starsky peering seriously at his glans, naked now that he’d retracted the cowl. “What are you doin’?”

“Just cleanin’ you up real good.” Starsky brushed his lips over the warm tip briefly, lovingly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Oh, okay,” Hutch said, and relaxed into sleep once more…

…He was awakened the final time that night when Starsky got back into bed. He shifted around for a moment then lay carefully right on top of Hutch, resting his head over his partner’s heart, and wrapping his arms atop his broad shoulders.

“You awake?” he asked.

Hutch replied fuzzily, “Yeah, now that you’re lying on top of me. How’re you doing?” He reached to hold Starsky at the waist.

“Fantastic.”

“Me, too.”

“You have a good time, Hutch?”

“If you couldn’t tell, I need to figure out another way to let you know, Starsk. I was in heaven.”

“Even—even with the underwear?” An anxious tone had crept into Starsky’s voice.

“Buddy, that was a riot. I loved it, loved how much it excited you.”

“Thanks for doing that. Blew my mind.”

“Starsky, I’ll… I’ll do anything for you,” Hutch said seriously. “Sure, it surprised me, but it wasn’t a big deal to put on a scrap of fabric for you. I had a good time, too, once I loosened up.” He laughed. “Maybe I want to see you in the undies next time.”

Starsky chuckled weakly, and they remained quiet for some time.

Lifting his hands to drape them around Starsky’s shoulder blades, Hutch held him firmly and regarded his utterly still form. “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I love you.” Starsky kissed his chest, then lightly stroked the spot. “I’m listening to your big, strong heart and I’m thinking…” He broke off for a few moments, then, “I’m thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

“Aw, Starsk… same here. Love you so much.” He hesitated, then started, “When I think how close I came—”

Without looking, Starsky reached up and gently covered Hutch’s mouth with his hand, to keep him from finishing the pained sentence. “I know, babe, I know. But we’re both okay now, and we’re together and everything’s fine…”

A few peaceful moments later, Starsky asked, “Hey, Hutch, do you have a fantasy you’d like to—”

He was interrupted by the first of Hutch’s gentle snores. “Oh, boy,” he muttered, “how’d ya like that?” and settled within Hutch’s arms, closing his eyes. Minutes later, he was lulled into his own restful sleep by the rhythm of Hutch’s steady heartbeat.

Dark and dangerous like a secret
That’s whispered in a hush
When I wake the things I dreamt about you
Last night make me blush

Ghost, Indigo Girls

END