Fantasy Friday

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Starsky wants to shake up a boring night.

 

This story was first published in the zine, Venice Place Chronicles, Volume VI.

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“Nothing, but nothing beats pullin’ into home at the end of a work week like we just put in, Hutch.”

Hutch nodded in quick and emphatic agreement, adding, “You’re forgetting one thing, though.”

“What’s that?” Starsky asked, shutting off the engine with what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“We didn’t have a work week.” Hutch punctuated his answer with a poke at Starsky’s shoulder. “What we had was an eleven-day stretch without a day off.”

“I was trying to forget that part, along with the bruise on my shin from the kick that wino gave me, but thanks for setting the record straight, Mr. Positive Thinker.”

“I was just saying–”

“Say it inside, okay?” Starsky interrupted while opening his door. “‘M sick of my own car.”

Hutch followed Starsky up the path to the small house they owned, purchased a mere three months after they’d decided to settle for nothing less than spending one-hundred percent of their lives together. The extra twenty-five percent was shared privately and discreetly, but it was shared, and Hutch knew that was all that really mattered to both of them.

~*~*~

From his comfortable position on the couch, Hutch looked over the top of his book to see Starsky kneeling by the TV again, spinning the dial so quickly Hutch had no idea how he was able to determine what was on any of the channels, let alone reject it. A particularly loud finger-snapping followed by even faster clicking made him speak up. “Starsk, would you please pick a channel and stick to it for two whole minutes? You’re driving me crazy.”

“There’s nothing on. There’s never anything on on Friday night.” Starsky spun the dial one more time, then shut off the TV.

“Get your book,” Hutch suggested, trying to go back to his own.

“I finished it.”

“When?”

“While you were sleeping last night.”

“Oh. Well, get another one.”

“I read ’em all.”

“You’ve read every book in the house?” Hutch asked in surprise, even knowing what a voracious reader Starsky was.

“Every one. ‘Cept the one you’re reading now and your gardening manuals.” Starsky got off the floor and joined Hutch on the couch. “I have no interest in learning how to properly spread manure-I figure we shovel enough shit at work all day as it is.”

Hutch acknowledged the truth in that statement by lifting his brow. “I only have one chapter left to read and then you can have my book–it’s a good mystery–and tomorrow we’ll hit the library when we’re out running errands, and get you stocked up again.”

“Geez, Hutch, you’re making our Saturday–our finally-free-from-work  Saturday–sound as boring as our Friday night is.”

“Do you wanna eat next week?” Hutch asked, laying his book on the coffee table and giving Starsky a pointed look.

Starsky returned his look evenly and said, “What kinda question is that? ‘Course I wanna eat, and before you start, I know we’re out of groceries and that I didn’t wanna stop at the store after work tonight-”

“Which is why our dinner was fried-egg sandwiches and canned peaches,” Hutch broke in, “and I was lucky to scrape up that much.”

“I wanted to order pizza, remember?”

“You always want to order pizza, and we had it twice this week already. I’m not even mentioning the leftovers you ate for breakfast. Cold.”

“Quit your bitchin’,” Starsky said with no irritation in his voice. He reached for Hutch’s legs, pulling them onto his lap while Hutch spun his hips to adjust to the new position. “You didn’t hear me complaining-too much-about you feeding us ‘healthy eggs and fruit,’ which I believe is a direct quote, did ya?”

“Hm,” Hutch mumbled, sliding farther down the couch to rest his head against the armrest, and hoping for a foot massage since Starsky was removing one of his shoes. “Nope, you didn’t complain-too much. You’re complaining now, though.”

Hutch’s second shoe hit the floor with a thud, followed by his socks. Starsky was now gripping his bare feet, and Hutch wiggled his toes in an attempt to encourage the desired massage without using words. Starsky, however, ignored his toes in favor of complaining some more. “I’m just saying that when we have the whole weekend off, we should make some fun plans, too, right along with grocery shopping, changing the oil in your car, and going to the library with the kiddies and the old ladies.”

“Damn, that does sound boring when you say it like that. Okay, Starsk, we’ll get all the boring stuff done real early, and then you can decide on something fun for us to do Saturday afternoon, how’s that?” Hutch smiled kindly, pleased to have come up with a compromise plan that would get their errands done and give Starsky something to look forward to.

“That sounds good for Saturday afternoon, but what are we gonna do with Friday night, now that you put your book down?”

“You could rub my feet,” Hutch asked hopefully, wiggling his toes again. “They’re kinda tired.” The last was said with what Hutch hoped was a sweet and slightly pathetic smile.

“Yeah, I could do that,” Starsky said, his hands still resting quietly on Hutch’s feet, but the expression on his face was anything but quiet. “And then you could rub mine, and that’ll kill thirty minutes and we’ll both have happy feet, but what about the rest of us? It’s Friday night, Hutch! Let’s do somethin’ fun.”

Hutch sighed softly, removed his feet from the comfort of Starsky’s lap, and gave up on the idea of a quiet night in, right along with his foot massage. “Okay, let’s go to the movies. Whatever you want to see, and I’ll look the other way when you order extra butter for your popcorn.”

“Nah, I’m not in the mood to see a movie.”

Hutch took that in stride, although it wasn’t like his movie-loving partner to pass on seeing a flick shown on the big screen, to say nothing of theater popcorn. He tried again. “Wanna go see Huggy, shoot some pool, grab a few beers?”

“The Pits will be jammed on a Friday night. We’ll have to wait for a table, and the music will be too loud and the bar will be too smoky.”

Hutch refrained from rubbing the crease between his eyes like he wanted to. “How about dessert? We can head over to that café you liked last time–”

“The time it was raining?”

“It wasn’t raining inside.”

“But we got wet.”

“It’s not raining tonight, and you liked the cake–”

“The coffee stunk, and they put it in those little doll-sized cups.”

“Okay, I give up,” Hutch said exasperatedly. “Just what would you like to do then?”

“I never said we had to go out to have fun.”

Hutch quickly decided he’d given up too soon, and since he really did want Starsky to be happy with their evening off, he tried another idea. “Poker? Maybe see if some of the guys are free tonight, play a few hands?”

“I never said I needed company to have fun, either.”

Normally, Starsky was game to try just about anything he suggested, so Hutch was feeling a little baffled about why all his suggestions were being shot down. “I’m about out of ideas, Starsk. Monopoly? A blow job?”

Starsky’s rich laughter filled the room with warmth and made Hutch tingle a little.

“At least you’re laughing now. I was beginning to think I’d completely lost my touch with you, or was just boring you to tears.”

“You could never bore me. Hell, I’d’ve even been willing to just watch you read, if you told me to shut up ’cause you wanted to finish your book–I like looking at you. But, yeah, I’m feeling sorta restless, like I wanna shake things up a little.”

A light blinked on in Hutch’s brain. “You have a plan. You had a plan the entire time I was rattling off ideas.”

Starsky’s grin was almost feral. “Well, not a plan exactly, but there is this idea I’ve had for a while. It just hit me again when I realized there was nothing on TV, and what night it is.”

Hutch stretched out his legs on top of the coffee table and placed his arms behind his head. “Okay, lay it on me. And please don’t think for one minute that when you say you’ve had ‘an idea for a while’ that I don’t know exactly how long you’ve been waiting to spring it on me.”

“Well, I had to wait for the right opportunity, you know-a Friday night we had off without a Saturday shift in front of us.”

“This is something we can only do on a Friday night?”

“Sorta, because of, well, the name of it.”

“It has a name? You’d better start talking, Starsky.”

“I am talking, you’re just talking, too.”

“Then I’ll shut up. Now, tell me your idea with the name.”

“It’s sort of in between your earlier suggestions: Monopoly or a blow job.”

Hutch decided to talk again, certain he’d guessed it. “I know what it is. You want us to play Monopoly naked and the winner gets the first blow job, right?”

“No, but that does sound like fun. We can do that next Thursday.”

“So, naked Monopoly will be a new Thursday night game for us? I really can’t wait to hear what you have in mind for Friday.”

“Obviously, you can wait, since you’re not shutting up and letting me tell you my idea,” Starsky said loudly.

“Okay, okay, I’m shutting up now.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Tell me!”

“Okay.” Starsky moved closer to Hutch and hooked one finger under his chin until their eyes met. “My idea is Fantasy Friday.”

Hutch said nothing, as he waited patiently for Starsky to say more.

“Well, whatcha think?”

“I’m shutting up until you tell me your idea.”

“I just told you!”

“I’m gonna need a little more information, Starsk,” Hutch said, deciding to rest his head against Starsky’s shoulder now that they were sitting so close together.

“Huh, and here I thought the name I came up with was self-explanatory.”

“Not quite.” Hutch added an arm around Starsky’s shoulder, enjoying what was now a half-hug. “Give me a little more information.”

“Fantasy Friday, Hutch. Think about what that says to you. Fantasies… Every Friday night we have off and we’re in the mood–like I am tonight–we can tell each other a secret fantasy we’ve always wanted to try, and then do it.” Starsky’s expression was triumphant. “That’s why we should only do it on a Friday night when we don’t have to work the next day, in case we’re up really late fulfilling our fantasies.”

Hutch eased himself out of the hug he’d put them in and, sitting back, took in both his partner’s expression and idea. And both left him feeling vaguely insecure. He’d thought Starsky was fulfilled with their sex life as it was; and as for fantasies, what had he missed? What had Starsky wanted to try all this time–they’d been lovers for more than two years now–that Hutch hadn’t been open to? After all, they’d tried every position in the book, and some that weren’t printed. Then there were the times they’d used both whipped cream and chocolate, and that time in the bathtub… If he was leaving Starsky wanting more, wanting better…could that be? Hutch had never loved anyone more passionately in his life than he did Starsky. But maybe it wasn’t–?

“Where’d ya go, Blondie?” Starsky said, interrupting his thoughts. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

Hutch pulled his eyes back to Starsky’s with an effort and tried a short smile. “I’m right here, Starsk. I was just thinking about what you said, and wondering…well, thinking…and I guess I need to ask you… Have you been dissatisfied with our sex life for a while and didn’t think you could tell me straight out?”

Starsky blinked twice and his mouth fell open before he started to talk. “Dissatisfied with our sex life? What the hell, Hutch? I love our sex life, and you know it!”

“But you just said you have unfulfilled fantasies, so if I haven’t been fulfilling your needs….”

“You dummy, is that what you got out of my great idea–and it is a great idea–that you haven’t been fulfilling my needs?”

“Um, maybe; I don’t know. You did say–”

“It’s time for you to shut up again, Hutch, and let me explain this better.” Starsky tapped on the top of Hutch’s thighs in an impatient gesture, then moved down to the end of the couch. “Here, give me your legs again, stretch out, close your eyes, and just listen. Carefully.”

Hutch did as he was asked, swinging his feet back into Starsky’s lap.

“Comfortable?” Starsky asked, beginning to lightly rub Hutch’s left foot.

“Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Okay, so just relax and let me start over. First of all, as I said, and as I know you know when you’re not being stupid, I love our sex life. You take me places I’ve never been before and didn’t even know I could feel. I mean, damn, we rock the headboard and stain the sheets more than the average old married couple.”

Everything was okay. It was more than okay. “Who are you calling old? We’re only thirty-seven.”

“That was a metaphor, Hutch, and you gotta shut up. As I was saying, we’re both hot for each other and have been since the day we figured all of this out. I’m bettin’ we still will be when we’re eighty, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have lots to try…lots to discover…and I’d like to know all of your fantasies, and I want you to know all of mine. One Friday night at a time. It’ll be something different from our regular-and hot-sex. Do you get me now?”

Hutch felt his slight sense of insecurity–he thought of it as slight, at least–slip away. “Yeah, babe, I get you…and, thank you…but…I don’t have any fantasies I haven’t already told you about.”

“Sure you do.” Starsky was increasing the pressure on Hutch’s foot in a most delightful way as he spoke. “Just like I have some I haven’t told you about-yet. And we’ll both have more as we get going on this thing and really dig into our imaginations. Just think how lucky we are, Hutch. We’re both with someone…in love with someone…that we can say or do anything with. Not everyone has that, but we do, and I think we’d better start appreciating it more. Come on, partner, I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”

Hutch felt the tingly sensation return around the back of his neck, or maybe it was his throat? He wasn’t sure; he just knew he was tingling because of Starsky’s words, and hands, and most of all because of his heart. He was damn lucky and he knew it, and it was very satisfying to hear how lucky Starsky felt, too. They didn’t often speak the words out loud, or need to, but Starsky had tonight. And that made him want to please his partner even more, but there really were no fantasies left unexplored. After all, winning Starsky’s love and the pleasures of his body were the fulfillment of years of fantasy already. There really was nothing else…except… Hutch felt his face flush as one fantasy–held deep within and only privately enjoyed, and even then, rarely–began to flicker for attention. But that one could not be shared, not ever. Not even Starsky would understand why the thought of….

“You’ve got one,” Starsky said calmly, changing his massage to Hutch’s right foot.

“No, I don’t,” Hutch answered quickly, trying to banish it from his thoughts in case Starsky really could read his mind.

“Yes, you do, I can tell. Your face just got pink, and your eyes got panicky. You’ve got one, and from the looks of it, I’ll bet it’s a beaut. Just tell me what it is.”

“Starsk, I can’t–it’s stupid. You’d probably just laugh if I told you, and you wouldn’t find it sexy.”

“I wouldn’t laugh.”

“Yes you would.”

“And if you think it’s sexy, I’d think it’s sexy, or at least I’d be willing to be convinced that it’s sexy.”

“Why should you have to be convinced? It wouldn’t be anything you’d want to do, and I’d never–”

“How about this?” Starsky interrupted. “I’ll go first. Tell you the fantasy I want to play out–the one I think about the most, for starters-and sorta break the ice.”

The tingle was now moving south, and Hutch’s curiosity was growing, too. Plus, with Starsky talking, maybe he’d forget about Hutch taking a turn to talk, and they could just do Starsky’s fantasy until they were exhausted and fell asleep. That sounded like a very good idea. “Yeah, let’s do that. Tell me your fantasy, Starsk.”

Starsky stopped rubbing Hutch’s feet and turned on the couch until he was sitting sideways, cross-legged, and Hutch’s feet were resting against the bulk of Starsky’s crotch. Hutch gave it a foot-pat for encouragement, and Starsky let out a little hiss. “Don’t distract me when I’m about to tell you my fantasy.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Okay, here goes. And if you wanna laugh, I’ll know I just told it wrong, ’cause this thing is damn hot.”

“Starsk….”

“I’m starting now…okay, here’s the scene. You and me in the Torino, driving home after a long day and we sorta start talkin’ dirty to each other, ya know, talkin’ about how good it’s gonna feel when we get home and can fuck nice and slow and comfy in our big clean bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Hutch murmured, thinking that sounded nice, but it was something they’d certainly done dozens of times before. He was waiting for the fantasy part to start.

“Then I back into our garage–both of us gettin’ real hard and real hungry–and we get out of the car, but I don’t let you go inside.”

“No?”

“No. Instead I tell you to wait while I close the garage door, and you do. While you’re waiting, I get us shut in all nice and tight, and I turn on the overhead light–the real bright one–because you’re not leaving the garage, and I’m gonna need to be able to see you real good.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Gotta be able to see you, but not like in our bedroom, ’cause this is different. It’s the garage, and it has that sexy smell with the oil and grease and the solvent for my carburetor and everything that’s already makin’ me extra hot, so I gotta be able to see to do you real good and careful.”

Our garage smells sexy? Hutch digested this new and surprising information without letting it distract him from the huskiness in Starsky’s voice, thinking it would be nice to toe-tickle Starsky’s cock again.

“And then I walk up to you real dangerous and demanding-like, and I take off your jacket and piece and lay ’em down. Then I get your shirt unbuttoned and open it wide so I can see your nipples. See ’em getting hard for me.”

God, I love it when he strips me down.

“You’re starting to breathe a little faster now, catching on, knowing you’re gonna get it real good and real soon, so I take your hand and lead you to the Torino’s hood. I’ve made sure to park as far back as possible to give us room, and I’m not gonna mind if my ass hits the garage door.”

Huh? His ass is going to hit the garage door? Oh, never mind that. He can manage the details of his own fantasy; just focus on getting it real good and real soon.

“So, I make sure your shirt is opened as far as it can go without falling off, and I put one hand on your neck, and one on your back and press you down hard and fast against the hood, right on your bare belly and chest. And you wiggle around ’cause it’s real warm, just like I planned it to be. Not warm enough to burn you, of course, but warm enough to make you squirm and gasp and make that noise way back in your throat. You’re hotter than the hood, so I gotta hold you down tight by your shoulders and kinda lean all over you, so I can kiss your neck and your ear and the side of your face and tell you how hot you make me. How hot you are.”

It is warm. I feel really warm. Really, really warm.

“Then I tell you to hold still. To hold very, very still and do what I say, and you do.”

He’s kind of bossy in his fantasies. Good thing I like that.

“Now I gotta get at your ass.”

Good thing I really like that.

“Gotta get your jeans and underwear pulled down so I can get at ya.”

Oh, yeah, do that. It’s time to get at me.

“I need to use both my hands to do it right, to make you feel everything I want you to feel, so I reach underneath you from both sides, fiddle with your belt and zipper for a while, then grip you hard, squeeze you nice and slow, right through your jeans, before I go back to your belt, make you wait for it. Get you hotter.”

It sure seems like I’m pretty hot by now, but if he wants me even hotter….

“When I’m done fiddling with you–when I’ve taken all the time I want–I get your zipper down and slowly start to expose that creamy ass of yours. And we’re both shuddering now–you, from how cool the air feels against your naked skin, and me, from just looking at your beautiful butt and knowing I’m gonna be fucking it very soon.”

Damn it all, he can talk so good… Maybe he should show me this fantasy instead of telling me? I’d really like that.

“I’ve had the lube with me all day, and I take it out of my pocket. It’s warm, and it feels real good on my fingers as I start to work it into your tight little hole. It feels real good to you, too, and you start that little moan of yours and the wiggling again–it’s real sexy the way you wiggle–but you have to keep still like I told you to.”

Keep still? How the hell can I keep still with you working my ass like that? You know I can’t keep still when your fingers are up there!

“I know it’s hard for you, so I give you a good pinch right on your cheek, just to focus your attention.”

I feel very focused.

“Then I need to kiss the spot. The spot I made red and tender. I give it a good kiss and suck on it for a while. Make sure it isn’t stinging.

There’s no stinging, but, damn, I’m really starting to ache.

“Once I take care of that hot little sting, I go back to your hot little hole. Make sure it’s nice and slick so I can slide in real deep–”

Hutch was watching Starsky’s mouth expectantly when the ringing of the phone cut off the fantasy-telling.

Shit!

“Oh, shit, that’s the phone, babe,” Starsky said apologetically, as if he’d accidentally caused it to ring. “I’d better go see who wants us.”

Starsky had wriggled out from under Hutch’s feet and was standing before Hutch found his voice. “Can’t we ignore it? We’re off duty!”

“We’re never that much off duty and you know it. I’ll be right back.”

“Damn it!” Hutch yelled, watching as Starsky hurried to the phone. Hutch slumped back against the couch, cradled the bulge in his pants briefly, and then willed it to go down and behave itself so he could fully enjoy the rest of Starsky’s fantasy when he came back.

And was that oil he smelled? Something around there sure smelled sexy.

~*~*~

It took Starsky ten minutes to finish the phone call, and in those ten minutes, Hutch had lost his hard-on. His patience was close to being gone, too. At least Starsky had the good sense to look guilty when he returned.

“Hey, you got up from the couch!” Starsky said, then stared at Hutch’s crotch. “And you don’t look happy to see me anymore.”

“I needed to walk around, and I lost my happy while you were jabbering away for the last two hours!”

“It was ten minutes, Hutch, and since it was Ma–”

“Don’t talk about your mother right now!”

“Sorry, um, since it was my relative that I normally call every Friday night–I’m gonna need a new night for that, huh?–she called to make sure everything was okay. I tried to rush her, but you know my ma–”

“Starsky!”

“Sorry. You know my relative, and how she loves to talk.”

“So does her son. He loves to talk and talk and get me all hot and bothered and then abandon me for two hours in that condition.”

“Ten minutes, and you don’t appear to be in any condition now.” Starsky stared at Hutch’s groin again. “Although you’re sounding kinda cranky.”

“I’m not cranky; I just want to go back to your fantasy. I wanna hear the rest of it.”

“Liked that, huh?” Starsky walked to where Hutch was standing in the corner of the room, and loosely gathered him up in a hug. “Do you agree with me, then, that sharing our secret fantasies can only enhance our already spectacular lovin’?”

“I’m a convinced man,” Hutch said, angling his hips to brush against Starsky’s package.

“That’s good to know,” Starsky whispered, then leaned in for a quick kiss. “Now come sit down with me again and tell me one of yours.”

“One of mine?” Hutch exclaimed, allowing himself to be towed back to the sofa. “But you haven’t finished yours yet. I really want to hear how it ends, Starsk. I really do.”

Starsky chuckled a little and settled them both on the couch. “I already told you half of it–”

“And I loved it. Now tell me the other half.”

“Afraid I’m gonna have to show you the other half, Hutch, and it’ll need to be when the Torino’s engine is as warm as yours is, so you’re gonna have to wait.”

“We could go for a drive….”

“Or you could at least tell me half of one of your fantasies. Like the one you thought of earlier.” Starsky was using his wheedling voice now, the one Hutch could seldom refuse. “Come on, baby, play fair. I told you.”

“Yeah, but yours was hot and sexy, and you told it really well. Mine is stupid and embarrassing, and you know I can’t tell a story-let alone a fantasy-like you can.”

“You tell a story just fine, and you’ve already got a hungry audience. Please?”

“Okay. I suppose I’m not going to die when you bust a gut laughing at me.”

“Not gonna happen.” Starsky pulled at Hutch’s shoulders until his back was against Starsky’s chest, then he leaned them both down against the armrest and circled Hutch’s waist with his strong arms. “Tell you what, you just start rambling any old place, and layin’ against me like this, you don’t even have to look at me. You can just talk. And, if you wanna stop halfway through like I did, go ahead and stop–we’ll just go to bed then and screw our usual way.”

Hutch laced his fingers through Starsky’s and gave them a squeeze. He needed more than one deep breath to begin, but finally he was able to start. “My fantasy is….”

“Keep goin’.”

“My fantasy is….”

“I’m listenin’.”

“Myfantasyisyouspankingme.”

“Huh?”

“I knew you were going to laugh!” Hutch tried to get up, but Starsky’s tightening arms prevented it.

“Did ya hear me laughing?”

Hutch thought about that. “I guess not. But you said something!”

“That’s right, Hutch, I said ‘huh?’ to indicate I hadn’t heard you clearly because you were talking at the speed of sound.”

“You didn’t hear me? Thank God.”

“Well, I heard something. It just wasn’t clear.”

Hutch swallowed thickly. “Um….”

“Want me to tell you what I think I heard?”

“There’s probably no way for me to stop you, is there?”

“No, not really.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Here’s what I think you said,” Starsky murmured in a near-whisper close to Hutch’s ear. “I think you said you’d like me to spank you. Is that what you said, Hutch?”

Hutch nodded miserably and squeezed his eyes closed. “That’s what I said. You can laugh now.”

“But I don’t feel like laughing at all. Come on, tell me more. I wanna hear everything.”

“That’s it. That’s the fantasy. That’s what I think about once in a while. Getting spanked by you.” It was getting easier to say the word now that he’d said it aloud a few times, and the relief that came from not being laughed at was slowing his racing heart down to a more normal rhythm.

“There’s more than that. Tell me how you see me doing it.” Starsky was running his fingers under Hutch’s belt as he spoke, and both the tone of his voice and the soothing stroking movements were starting to loosen Hutch’s tongue.

“Sometimes you use your hand, and sometimes you use this paddle you bought just for me.”

“I am a thoughtful guy,” Starsky said. “So, I’ve got you your own special paddle, but sometimes you just want my hand?”

“I love your hand! You give me a swat and then kind of rub all over the spot, then you give me another one. God, your hand is so good.”

“Yeah? You like my hand the best, huh?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes, I want the paddle, because it–”

“–leaves a better sting?” Starsky finished for him.

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Hmmmm…but how do I do it, Hutch? Do I put you over a chair?”

“Mostly over your knee, but sometimes we use the table in the kitchen.”

“Geez, this is getting hot.” Hutch heard Starsky swallow after he spoke. Maybe this wasn’t so embarrassing, after all? Starsky seemed to like his fantasy.

“What are you wearing when I start to spank you? I mean, do you keep your pants on, or can I take ’em off and paddle your bare bottom?”

“Well, it’s my fantasy, Starsk. You do what I make you do in it, but, yes, you always take my pants off.”

“Underwear, too?”

“Um, yeah, I’m bare.”

“And you’re over my knees like that? Geez, this is so hot.”

Hutch’s relief was now complete. Starsky really did like his fantasy, and there was no danger of any laughter. In fact, Hutch was pretty sure there was going to be some intensely hot lovemaking as soon as they got off the couch and into bed. “Glad you think so, babe. I thought your fantasy was on fire, too.” Hutch turned around in Starsky’s arms so they were now lying chest to chest, and he could kiss him easily as well as mesh their covered cocks together. They’d sure done a lot of turning each other on tonight without even getting undressed. Hutch kissed him again, longer this time, then said, “Thanks, Starsk, for being so…well, for being everything to me. Wanna hop into bed now?”

“Not so fast there, Hutch.”

“Huh? Don’t you wanna go to bed with me?” Hutch hoped his voice sounded as seductive as he felt. When he got Starsky between the sheets, the things he was going to do….

“You betcha, and we’ll do that right after I give you your spanking.”

“Wha–?”

“You heard me. I said it nice and slow to make sure you’d hear me clearly. It’s time for your spanking now, so get up.” Starsky pushed at his waist and shoulders until Hutch was backed off the couch, standing on his feet, and feeling very confused. “Thatta boy.”

“But, Starsk, that was just a fantasy! It wasn’t anything I ever expected us to do.”

“How come? I fully intend to lay you out over the hood of my car the next Friday I have the chance. And I fully intend to fulfill your fantasy right now, since there’s not a damn thing to stop us.”

“Come on, Starsk, it would be too weird.”

“It doesn’t sound weird to me. It sounds as excitin’ as all get out to me.”

“But…but there’s the…and what if–?”

“No ands, ifs, or buts around here, babe, just your butt about to get stretched over my lap. Don’t ya want me to?”

Do I? Do I really want that, to live it out instead of keeping it in my imagination? I’ve thought about it for so long…it’s been so exciting…just to give up all control and feel his hand on me. Feel him hold me in place on his lap… Oh, God, can I go through with it? I think I want to. No, I know I want to.

“I…yeah…I do, but you’re sure you do?”

“Completely. I’m gonna make this good for you. Real, real good. I think I know exactly what you need, starting with turning this scene over to me, Hutch. Let me run it.”

Does he know everything?

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

“And always will be. Just stay put and relax while I go get a couple things.”

Starsky hurried off, leaving Hutch open-mouthed.

Shit, we don’t have any paddles in the house, do we?

Hutch waited in nervous anticipation, more nervous than he’d been the first time he and Starsky made love. More nervous than he’d been the first time he had sex, period, more nervous than-

“Here we are,” Starsky said cheerfully upon his return. “All set.”

Starsky was holding two foot stools, Hutch quickly saw, and there were no paddles in sight. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “What are the stools for?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.” Starsky was pulling the straight-backed desk chair into the middle of the room and arranging the stools in front of it. The chair had no arms.

“Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Starsky asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then get over here.”

Hutch took the longest five steps of his life, but was soon at Starsky’s side. “I’m here.”

“Yeah, you are, and nervous as hell, too. Just relax, Hutch…here’s how it’s gonna go down. I’ll sit in the chair and put my right foot up on the stool–that’ll give us some leverage to get your ass up high–then you’ll put your hands on the other stool so your arms won’t get tired, and then we’ll get you good and spanked.”

“Oh.”

“You said that already. How about getting your shirt off now?”

“Are you going to take yours off, too?”

“Is it off in the fantasy?”

Hutch figured he could amend his own damn fantasy before it turned into reality. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll take it off.” Starsky lifted his t-shirt over his head while Hutch was still unbuttoning. He came up bare-chested, dark curls awry, and utterly beautiful. “Speed it up some, we wanna get to the good part.”

Hutch finished his unbuttoning in a hurry, than hissed with pleasure when he felt Starsky remove the shirt from his shoulders. Starsky trailed his fingers down his spine leaving him awash in goose bumps and heightening his anticipation to a maddening degree. “Now my pants?”

“Now your pants,” Starsky agreed, sitting down in the desk chair.

Hutch undid his fly with stiff fingers, staring intently at the floor, knowing Starsky’s eyes were boring into him. He used Starsky’s shoulder to balance himself as he stepped out of one leg and then the other. In seconds, he was down to his underwear. He ran a finger under the waistband and, with his eyes still on the floor, asked, “These, too?”

“Nah, I’ll take them off myself once you’re over my knee.”

“Oh.” Oh, God.

“There’s that word again.” Starsky took Hutch’s hand in his own and pulled him closer. “Look at me, Hutch.”

Reluctantly, Hutch met his partner’s eyes, and after a moment, the butterflies in his belly stopped flapping quite as fast. Starsky’s eyes were full of joy, mischief, and pure unadulterated lust. Lust for him. He was the luckiest man alive. “You’re something special, Starsk.”

“So are you. Now, I want ya to remember that we can stop any time, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But if I do this right, you’re not gonna want to stop anytime soon.”

“Okay.”

“You ready?” Starsky put his right foot on the first stool.

“Guess so.”

With that, Starsky used the hand still holding onto him to pull Hutch over his knee. It happened faster in real life than it did in fantasy, but the position of his ass was the same in both. As promised, it was high in the air. In fact, it felt incredibly high.

“Are your hands on the other stool?”

The other stool? He’d forgotten his stage direction already. He was supposed to have his hands on a stool.

“Can you see it?”

There it is. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Are your hands on it? You need to hold on to the sides of the stool.”

It only took a second to get his hands positioned in a hard grip. “They are.”

“Okay, now drop your head down. No turning around to try and see what I’m doing back here. You could strain your neck that way.”

I can’t look? How did it go in the fantasy? Hurriedly, Hutch tried to remember how he’d acted this out in his imagination, but he couldn’t come up with where his head was then. And if he couldn’t remember, he couldn’t amend it, and if he couldn’t amend it, Starsky was going to do it his way-

“Get your head down, Hutch. It’s time to start.” It was going to be Starsky’s way. Hutch lowered his head until all he could see were his own white-knuckled hands on top of the stool.

“There ya go,” Starsky said in his soothing voice. Hutch didn’t think he was going to be feeling soothed right about now. “Are you pretty comfortable?”

Comfortable? With tight balls and a hard cock pressed against Starsky’s thigh, and his ass ten feet high in the air, to say nothing about his dangling head? “Sort of.”

“Good. I want you comfortable enough to enjoy this, but not so comfortable that you fall asleep on me.”

“I don’t think there’s too much chance of my falling asleep, Starsk.”

“Me, either.”

And with that, Hutch felt his underwear being pulled slowly off his butt and down his thighs to rest against his ankles. Oh, my God. We’re really going to do this. Starsky’s going to spank me now.

“Easy, partner,” Starsky said, laying an arm across Hutch’s back. I just want you to kick your underwear off your feet and spread your legs a little. I need the room to get each cheek evenly spanked, and I wanna be able to play with you in between swats, too.”

Oh, God. Hutch inched his legs apart until he could feel a touch of air right in the center of his butt.

“Yeah, right there. That’s perfect. Damn, Hutch, if you could be enjoying the view I’m enjoying right now. Your ass has never looked better. You’ve never been more sexy to me than you are right now, layin’ over me, waiting for my swats. This is the best idea you ever had.”

Right, this was my idea. Why do I ever have ideas? And why isn’t he starting? “Do I have to wait much longer?”

“Nope.” Hutch wasn’t sure which finished first, Starsky’s word or his swat, but he did know his ass was now lightly tingling. “We’ll remember that one, Hutch. That first one. How’d it feel?” Starsky’s spanking hand was resting on the tingling spot.

“Felt…weird. I’m getting spanked by my partner, but I think I’m too nervous to really feel it.”

“Nah, you’ll feel it.” And then Starsky’s hand left his ass in a hurry but was back instantly, and there was a loud crack and someone yelped. “See? Ya felt that one!”

Oh, he’d been the one to yelp. Hutch concentrated on the hot spot Starsky left on his rear, feeling a slow, soft burn start to melt into his skin. So, good… “Yeah, babe, like that. Do me like that.”

Starsky’s throaty laughter was like music to his ears, and Starsky’s spanking hand obeyed his wishes completely. Once, twice, three times. Hot, hard, heavy…then four, or was it five? They were coming down fast now, faster than Hutch could count them, and the hand peppering hot waves of pleasure/pain all over his butt was making him writhe and ache to grab his cock and squeeze it hard. “Starsk, my cock….”

He felt Starsky give him three more hard swats. So hard. So good. All he could do was groan, since Starsky seemed to be ignoring his plea for his poor cock.

Two more, then the hand stopped.

His ass was on fire. His cock was going to explode.

“Time to take a little break so I can feel all of this heat for myself.” Starsky’s palm was rubbing softly all over Hutch’s ass, prickling the hot spots and tantalizing him even more. “This is hot, Hutch, this is fucking hot. How come we’ve never done this before?” Fingers were inching toward his crack, now.

“I was too chicken to ask you. Starsk, I’m on fire…can you please just touch my cock?”

“Mine’s achin’, too, but they’re both gonna have to wait. I’m not done with your ass by a long shot.”

Hutch groaned again and made another aborted attempt to fly right off Starsky’s knee, when he felt two slippery fingers slide inside him. “Oh, damn…where’d ya get the lube?”

“Would you please hold still?  If you wiggle around too much, I could miss my mark, accidentally hurt you, and our fun would be over. Neither one of us wants that.” Starsky’s voice was in its lowest register, deep and sensual. “As for the lube, I put it in my pocket. Where’d ya think I got it?” Starsky’s fingers were driving deeper, and there was no way Hutch was going to be able to keep still.

“Your pocket?” Hutch said, panting between each word, struggling to not wiggle around too much. “I thought the lube in your pocket was part of your fantasy?”

“I figured it would work for yours, too. Told ya I was gonna play with you in between swats.”

Hutch took a shaky breath and gave himself over to Starsky’s playing, incapable of squeezing out any more speech and trying to subtly rub his swollen dick against Starsky’s jeans. There was just enough friction…just enough that if he timed it with the thrusts of Starsky’s fingers, he just might be able to–

Crack! Starsky’s fingers had left his asshole so fast Hutch hadn’t felt it, but he felt the return of the spanking hand with a vengeance.

“I almost let you cool off too much, huh, Hutch?” Another swat came down, leaving tender flesh behind. “Your spanking’s not quite over yet, and I felt you tryin’ to rub off against me. I told you…you’re not comin’ yet. Now, just feel your spanking. Feel it real good.”

Hutch had no other choice. Fast swats, slow ones, hard ones, soft ones…each cheek, and then the top of his thighs. Yeah, he felt it, and it was the most wondrous thing he’d ever experienced. He’d never been this free while imprisoned against his partner. Never felt this good while his ass was stinging so bad, and never…not ever, had he felt this charged with raw eroticism. This was wicked. Naughty. This was damn naughty, and Hutch never wanted it to end. “Oh, God, Starsk…Starsk….”

“I know, babe, I know, and I think you’re just about done.”

“I am? But my head’s spinning. I think I could fly right now…I’m done?”

“Your spanking’s done. Your fucking hasn’t started yet.”

“Fucking?” Hutch tried the word aloud, but it still didn’t seem to make much sense.

“Yes, fucking. Now ease on up. I think you’ve got too much blood in your head-both of ’em.” Starsky helped guide Hutch to his feet and kept a steadying hand on both of his elbows. “Let me look at you. I think you liked your little spanking, huh?”

“Starsk, it was….”

“Yeah, for me, too. That one definitely stays in our repertoire.” Starsky stood and carefully pulled down his zipper and shed his jeans and underwear. His dick immediately slapped his belly. “Thank God. Next time I spank you, I’m doing it nude. That damn zipper was trying to kill me.”

“And my cock….”

“¾looks like it’s gonna shoot clear across the room. We gotta take care of both of us right now.”

Hutch was really trying to keep up, but the pressure in his balls and the wonderful sting on his butt was so distracting. Hopefully, Starsky could do what needed to be done without him, because Hutch was jelly, and jelly can’t do much at all.

“Pay attention, Hutch!”

“Huh?”

“Get your hands on the chair, stick your ass out, and bend your knees!”

That sounded simple enough. Hutch was pretty sure he was moving too slowly for Starsky, though, since he felt a sharp tap to his instep. “Spread your legs, Hutch! Come on, I gotta get inside.”

The desperation in Starsky’s tone began to melt some of Hutch’s fog away, and he made room for Starsky to mount him. “Can’t we do this in bed?” he asked, as Starsky’s thick cock paved its way inside him.

Starsky was thrusting immediately, and talking, too. Starsky could always talk. “No time. You got me so hot, I was gonna shoot on the floor or inside you. I choose inside you.”

Hutch met each thrust with as much energy as he could muster, and then remembered his own cock, which he still couldn’t reach and which was still aching. “Starsky, for the love of God, are you ever gonna touch my cock?”

“Oops, sorry.”

Starsky’s hand–his spanking hand, Hutch thought, wondering how long he’d think of it like that-gripped his cock with an almost punishing firmness. It was perfect. “Finally! Yes!” It took only three strokes to finish him; he’d been on the edge since they’d started. With one last deep groan, Hutch sprayed the chair with huge relief and collapsed onto his elbows, barely staying upright enough for Starsky to continue pumping into him.

“Now me,” Starsky cried. “My turn, so hold on.”

Hutch braced his elbows and tightened his ass as hard as he could, trying to give Starsky all the pleasure he deserved, wanting to milk him dry and leave him as sated as he now was.

“That’s it, that’s it…” Starsky’s voice was raw, and Hutch could feel each spasm as Starsky shot deep inside him.

“Oh, man…oh, man, Hutch.”

“You did it. I barely held on for the ride.”

“You are the ride, babe. The best ride of my life. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You’re getting mushy.”

“Then I better get off you.” Starsky eased out of Hutch’s body slowly, and then both men sank to the floor.

“Oh, shit, my ass!” Hutch yelled as soon as his butt hit the carpet. “Shit, that’s sore!”

Starsky started to laugh. Sprawled out on their carpet, dick wrung dry, the bastard was laughing at him. “You swore-you promised you weren’t going to laugh!”

“I’m not! I swear I’m not. It just sounds like laughing ’cause I’m trying to catch my breath. Let me see your ass, I’ll give it a few feel-better kisses.”

“You’re such a rotten liar, Starsky.” Hutch managed to struggle back up to his feet, not knowing why he’d ever sat down in the first place, and looked down indulgently at his lover, still sucking in air on the floor and holding his belly. Damn it all if he didn’t love the big clown. “Get up, goofball, we gotta clean up and go to bed, ’cause I’m wiped.” He reached a hand down to help Starsky to his feet.

“Yeah, bed sounds good.” Starsky got up with more energy than the law should allow. “I think I could sleep all day tomorrow. How long do you think we were at this, anyway?”

“A long time, but never long enough?”

“Mush sounds good when you say it, Hutch.”

“Thanks. Are our legs moving?”

“Think so. Did ya good, huh?”

“Did me perfect, babe.”

“That’s what I was shooting for.”

Once they were in the bathroom, Starsky started the shower, and they took care of the necessities quickly before they hopped in and made short work of getting clean. Hutch knew there’d be no playful drying each other off, either, no flirtation to take to the bedroom. They were both too wrung out and already completely satisfied. No, when they hit the sheets-and to Hutch, the bed that was visible from the open bathroom door that led to their bedroom looked like a slice of Heaven-they’d be asleep in minutes. Starsky finished drying off first and put his towel in the hamper before staggering to the bed and turning down the covers. Hutch left his towel on the counter and followed, turning down his own side of the bed.

“Funny, all I thought I’d be doing tonight is finishing my book.”

“Had you fooled.”

“Yeah, you did. Thank God.”

Starsky slid in first, issuing a happy sigh Hutch was sure was loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “We’ve got the best bed in the whole world, Hutch. The best…oh, and before I forget…we need to go shopping soon.”

Hutch ignored the rhetorical comment on their comfortable bed, but he responded to Starsky’s shopping request with surprise. “I know, Starsk, we’re going tomorrow, remember?” Hutch crawled into bed face-first, intending to sleep on his stomach tonight. He inched over to where Starsky was lying on his side. “We need groceries and books….”

“And a paddle,” Starsky added. “We need to buy a paddle real soon.”

Hutch gasped as his tender bottom received a few light pats, then the lights went out.

 

The End