Fifty Shades of Cake

 

Hutch crept out of the two story house he shared with Starsky. It wasn’t unusual to leave Starsky in bed while he went for his run, but jogging was the last thing on Hutch’s mind this morning.

He quietly let himself into his old beater and pulled away slowly from the curb. If Starsky woke and noticed the car gone, Hutch could plead the fifth. Failing that, an early visit to Vinnie’s was a plausible lie.

The untimely hour and empty streets made the journey to Huggy’s a quick and event free drive. Hutch parked in their regular spot in the parking lot behind The Pits. Half a dozen strides and he was at the emergency exit, pushing the door open with ease. Stepping into the dimly lit interior, Hutch squinted into the room and shouted, “You there, Hug?”

“Not so loud, my man,” Huggy said, popping up from behind the bar. “This turkey hasn’t been to bed yet.” He looked like he’d been to hell and back.

Hutch recognized that morning after look. He grinned. “Sorry about that, buddy. You did say I could collect the cake at this time.”

Huggy held his head. “I dig that, but I didn’t plan on JT turning up at closing for a nightcap or ten.” He gulped down the Bloody Mary in his hand and smacked his lips. “Best hangover cure ever,” he said, holding the glass up in a shaky hand and surveying it like it was the Mona Lisa.

“I prefer a glass of orange juice and lots of water myself.” Hutch took the glass from Huggy and set it on the bar top. “The cake, Huggy.” He hated to rush his suffering friend, but time was ticking and he wanted to get back before Starsky got up.

“Okay, okay. Follow me.” Huggy waved his arms around in the air and half swaggered, half staggered to the kitchen.

Hutch had no problem keeping pace with Huggy. Reaching over his friend’s shoulder, Hutch held open the swinging door.

Huggy stood at one end of the large metal preparation area that dominated the center of the kitchen. A plain white box sat on the counter in front of him. “There you go.” He gestured towards the box. “One cake, as per the customer’s order.”

Hutch broke the seal on the lid, lifted it up and whistled. “Nice. Better than I imagined.” He looked at Huggy. “No one else has seen this?”

Huggy shook his head. “Not even me. As I said, Sheila’s Specialty Cakes is all about discretion. Sealed instructions, sealed box.”

“You have some weird friends.” Hutch dropped the lid back in place.

Huggy looked him up and down. “You’re telling me, blondie. I ain’t the one having secret cakes made.”

Hutch laughed. “Touché. You can have a peek if you want to. You know what it’s for anyway or you wouldn’t have been able to tell me that Sheila has another string to her bow when it comes to cakes.”

“That chick would kill me if she knew I’d broken her cardinal rule.” Huggy dragged his right index finger across his neck.

“Is she really that strict? You’re her lesser half, doesn’t that count for something?”

“When it comes to her business, she flies by her own rules and I gotta respect that.” A sappy smile crossed Huggy’s face. “She is the boss, after all.” He winked at Hutch. “That side of her baking business stays within the circle, ya dig?

“Yeah.” Hutch was well aware of Huggy and Sheila’s personal arrangement. It was the same as his and Starsky’s; equal partners in everything, except when it came to their play time.

Although he suspected, and that sentence may well just have proved it, that Huggy was more than happy to bow down to Sheila at other times. A scenario he never expected to connect with Huggy. Seeing a different chick every night had stopped the day he met Sheila. A monogamous Huggy was a reality that Hutch never saw coming.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Hutch lifted the lid and gazed at the culinary wonder. He’d wanted to give Starsky a first anniversary present. But the traditional paper seemed wrong when the anniversary was celebrating the first time that Starsky had tied him up and dominated him. A drunken conversation with Huggy while Starsky and Sheila were comparing Master notes had bought them to this moment.

Tapping the lid gently out of Hutch’s hand and sealing the box, Huggy said, “He’ll love it. It’s sweet to eat and it’s from you. Now get outa ‘ere. I needs my bed.”

***

Eyes still closed, Starsky rolled over onto his side. Reaching, as he did every morning, for his lover, and finding, as he did most mornings, a cold space where Hutch had been when they went to sleep.

Starsky hated waking up alone, but he would never deny Hutch his daily run. It had been Hutch’s routine since his high school track days. As a promising mile runner, Hutch had trained before and after school, or so he’d told Starsky.

Hutch’s competitive running had stopped when he graduated from college and his pop had assumed that Hutch would follow in the family tradition, Harvard Law College and Hutchinson and Sons, Corporate Lawyers.

At that point, Hutch had rebelled and applied to the Police Academy. The rest, as far as Starsky was concerned, was history, his and Hutch’s history.

He turned back over and snuggled under the blankets. Hutch liked to crawl back into bed after his shower for a cuddle, or more if they had the time.

Starsky was just drifting off to sleep when the telephone rang. He snagged the receiver. “Lo,” he said groggily.

“David,” said the high pitched voice that he knew so well.

“Aunt Rosey. A little early for you, ain’t it?” Starsky sat up and leaned against the headboard. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Davey.” She sighed. “Your Uncle Al has put his back out again.”

Starsky grinned. “That old cah of his, I guess,” he said, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice.

“It’s not funny. I tell him every day. Don’t start working on that car so early.” Her tone changed to the sound Starsky remembered from his wild days. “Let Davey help you. You aren’t so young anymore.” She sighed again. “Can you come help me get him from the garage to the house?”

Starsky stared wistfully at Hutch’s empty space, knowing that would be filled pretty soon. He’d been looking forward to spending the morning in bed with Hutch. “Be right there,” he promised dutifully. His aunt and uncle had been good to him. Taken him in when his mom couldn’t cope after his father died.

Banging the receiver down, he jumped out of bed, pulling clothes on as he hopped into the bathroom. A quick teeth clean, a splash of water on his face and unruly hair, and he was ready.

Better leave Hutch a note or blondie would panic. Putting the toothpaste back in the cabinet, Starsky spotted the lipstick that he’d bought for Valentine’s Day. The same lipstick that Starsky’d used to plant red kisses all over Hutch’s naked body. Grabbing the container, he pulled off the lid and scrawled his destination.

***

Hutch turned right off of Electric Avenue into San Juan Avenue. Even from halfway up the street, the striped tomato was conspicuous by its absence.

Damn. Starsky must have noticed Hutch’s LTD missing and decided to go looking for him. No way could Hutch use Vinnie’s as an excuse now. That was the first place Starsky would try.

Hutch pulled over to the curb outside number 541. The yellow color and design of the first story exterior reminded him of his old canal-side home. The difference was the second story, and this time the white picket fence dream was his and Starsky’s. Hutch prided himself on the rich green lawns and the rose bushes with their abundance of white blooms.

“Starsk,” he shouted, just in case, as he closed the front door while juggling the bakery cake box.

Silence, as he’d expected.

Taking the stairs two at once, he opened the bedroom door with his butt. Placing the box on the footlocker from Starsky’s Army days at the end of their wooden bed, he strode into the bathroom. Should have gone before he left Huggy’s, but hey. Relief flowed through his body as he emptied his bladder.

Yanking his sweatpants up his thighs, he spotted red writing on the mirror.

Aunt Rosey’s!

Grinning, Hutch fingered the round gold case lying on the vanity unit. Candy Apple Red it said on the small label stuck to the bottom. Sweet memories.

He glanced at the words again. There was only one reason that Starsky would go off to Rosey’s this early in the morning without more explanation: Al’s back!

That suited Hutch. It saved him trying to set up his surprise with Starsky in the house. He’d planned to use Starsky’s shower time, but now he had at least a couple of hours, depending on when Starsky left, of course.

Digging to the back of his closet, Hutch extracted his old high school duffle, emptying the contents onto the floor. Red satin sheets and pillow shams, similar to the ones Starsky owned when they first got together.

Hutch quickly stripped the white sheets that he preferred off of the bed and remade it with the red satin. Next, he changed the pillow and cushion cases.

Starsky always laughed at him, saying he was worse than a woman for the multitude of pillows and cushions that adorned their bed. But they had a practical use as well, when it came to getting the right positioning for certain activities.

Ripping the white cardboard box from around the cake, he set the cake dead center on the top of the footlocker.

The cake was decorated like a replica of their bed. Hutch meticulously arranged the soft furnishings exactly like the cake decoration. Some strategically placed ties, handcuffs and the cat o’ nine tails whip completed the scene.

After a leisurely shower, Hutch drank a glass of goat’s milk. Leaving the empty glass on the bedside stand, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a black leather case. He took out the plastic contents, the cock cage that Starsky had bought him on a whim for his birthday. Miraculously, it had fitted perfectly. Hutch had worn it a few times since then, when Starsky asked him to. Today, he was making the decision to wear it. He pushed his genitals through the securing rings and encased his already hardening penis in the plastic see-through tube. A few screws and he was ready. All he could do now was wait for Starsky.

***

Starsky scoured the first floor looking for Hutch. He knew that his partner should be around because his old car was back in its parking spot. He assumed Hutch had gone to Vinnie’s, with the absence of his car. Maybe he’d gone for a run as well because Starsky hadn’t been here when he got back.

It was mid-morning and he still had to claim his first kiss of the day. Much as he loved his aunt and uncle, his mercy missions because of Al’s back were becoming more frequent. He found himself cursing when the trips encroached on his day off and personal time with Hutch. He shook his head. Selfishness wasn’t a pleasant trait, especially after all his family had done for him.

“Hutch,” he shouted up the staircase.

“In the bedroom.” Hutch’s voice was so soft that Starsky barely heard it. He bounded up the steps and stopped dead in the doorway.

Hutch lounged, naked and golden, on shiny red satin sheets. A ray of mid-morning sunlight reflected off of Hutch’s encased genitals.

Starsky took a moment to devour the sight before his eyes. “Where’d they come from? I thought we’d thrown that set out months ago.” Starsky asked, pointing at the bed sheets. Then he noticed the cake.

“Thought it was time we replaced them.” Hutch smiled. His smile lit up the room.

Starsky’s heart missed a beat. That smile got him every time. “The cake,” he sputtered, walking over to the footlocker. “It’s an exact replica of our bed.”

“Happy first anniversary,” Hutch said.

“Huh?” He and Hutch had been together, as lovers, for just over three years. “First anniversary?”

Hutch grabbed the handcuff chain and jangled the wrist cuffs together. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” He pouted. Quite unsuccessfully for Hutch, as it happened. Normally he could pout with the best of them, but this time he didn’t fool Starsky for a second.

Starsky nodded. “That supposed to be me, is it?” Starsky gently poked the chest of the figure. Obviously it was. The statue was even wearing the tatty jeans he had pulled on first thing this morning, his chill out jeans. Worn in all the right places, according to Hutch.

“Yeah,” Hutch said, spreading his legs wider. “Though I think that you’re a bit over dressed.”

Laughing, Starsky kicked off his sneakers and tugged his t-shirt over his head. He unzipped his jeans and unbuckled his belt. Snagging the whip, he posed next to the bed post, mimicking his confectionary counterpart. “Now what?”

“That’s up to you.”

Starsky had already noted the ties draped around the bed posts. Hutch was expecting a re-enactment of the first time they’d dabbled with bondage. He straddled Hutch’s hips and snatched the handcuffs from his lovers grasp. Unfortunately, they’d changed beds since then and there was nowhere to attach the cuffs. He threw them to the floor and leaned over to the top left post, pulling Hutch’s right arm taut. He looped the tie around Hutch’s wrist and secured it to the upright. He repeated the move on the other wrist.

With Hutch firmly tied by the wrists, Starsky swooped in for the kiss he’d been waiting for since waking up. Pressing his lips roughly against Hutch’s, he forced his tongue into his lover’s mouth. Starsky kissed Hutch long and hard, stopping only when he started to feel lightheaded.

Hutch gulped in air when Starsky withdrew from his assault on his mouth. “Morning,” he gasped.

“Morning, yourself,” Starsky said, slightly panting from the effort of his ardor. He brushed his fingertips lightly up and down the right side of Hutch’s face and neck.

Hutch quivered under his touch.

Spinning around on Hutch’s belly, Starsky licked Hutch’s sheathed cock, before continuing down the bed to his feet. Stretching Hutch as far as he could, Starsky tied each ankle to the corresponding bed post.

They’d specifically chosen a king size bed that accommodated Hutch’s height and span. The sales guy had given them some funny looks when Hutch lay in the middle of the bed, spreading his arms and legs for all he was worth. Starsky laughed at the memory.

“Want to share the joke, Starsk?” said Hutch, flexing his left foot.

“Later,” said Starsky, eyeing up the cake. He hadn’t had a chance to eat yet this morning. He jumped off of the bed. “Don’t go anywhere, I need to get something.”

***

“Not much chance of that, is there?” Hutch bucked in his restraints to prove his point. What could Starsky possibly want that wasn’t in the room?

Starsky came back into the room brandishing Hutch’s Takohiki knife. He walked across to the bed.

“Huh, Starsk, what you want that knife for?” Hutch had picked up a set of Japanese knives in Queens during one of their first trips back east to visit Starsky’s mom. It had been his present to himself for making detective.

Starsky ran his finger along the flat top of the blade. Bending over, he stroked Hutch’s chest with the square tip. “What you think it’s for?”

Hutch swallowed as the cold metal traversed his skin. He stared at the silver shaft. “Cutting something?”

“Got it in one.” Starsky grinned maniacally at him. “I’m going to have my cake and eat it.” He winked at Hutch, stepped back and swung the knife, slicing straight through the middle of the bed. He cut a huge chunk from the cake. “Red Velvet, my favorite.” Nibbling on the red fondant, he sat on the bed next to Hutch.

“I know.” Hutch strained his neck. “Do I get some?”

“Certainly,” said Starsky, crushing the slab against Hutch’s torso and rubbing the mixture of cake and fondant all over his chest.

“Not fair,” Hutch said, almost gagging when Starsky stuck his fingers into Hutch’s mouth. He sucked and licked the sticky mess from Starsky’s hand. “Tasty.” His cock attempted to expand even more in the confines of the chastity device. The pressure of the plastic thwarting a full erection added to his pleasure.

Starsky lapped up the concoction covering Hutch’s upper body, alternately twirling his tongue around his nipples and biting at the erect buds. He stroked Hutch’s sides with his fingertips.

“Ahh. Tickles.” Hutch writhed under Starsky’s touch. The combination of Starsky’s hands and mouth sent his nerve endings into overdrive. He struggled against the restraints holding his limbs in place. God, he loved that feeling of helplessness, that loss of controlling his own body, the erotica of giving that control to Starsky.

Obviously satisfied with his feast, Starsky nipped and kissed down Hutch’s torso. Kneeling between Hutch’s legs, he suckled his inner thighs. Sucking so hard at one point that Hutch knew it would leave a mark.

His balls throbbed when Starsky sucked each one in turn. Forcing his tongue through the slit in the bottom of the cage, Starsky teased Hutch, delicately licking the tip of his cock. The merest hint of a touch sent electricity zinging through Hutch’s genitals. He pushed his hips forward, trying for closer contact on his penis. The plastic cage banged against Starsky’s teeth.

Starsky gave him a sharp slap on his scrotum. “Naughty, naughty,” he scolded. “I think that gets you an all day pass to chastity land.”

Hutch’s desire hiked up a notch. He tugged at the ties, causing a momentary tightening of the bindings. Every little morsel of pain and domination pushed him closer to his nirvana.

Jumping off of the bed, Starsky struggled out of his tight jeans. His erection bounced free from its prison. Standing at the side of Hutch’s head, he caressed his hard-on.

Hutch turned to watch his lover pleasure himself. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

“You want this?” Starsky asked, circling his cock head with his thumb.

“Yeah.” Hutch almost choked with the anticipation of Starsky’s rod in his mouth. He attempted to move closer, twisting his body, until he practically wrenched his shoulder out of its socket.

“Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Starsky moved closer. “You want it that bad?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Say please.” Starsky winked at him.

“Please,” Hutch said. He’d never imagined that he would ever beg to have another man’s dick in his mouth, not even Starsky’s. It was weird what true love had done to him. Starsky’s shooting had changed his life, both their lives, totally. It had taken them in a direction that neither had thought possible.

***

Starsky looked down on the wanton man tied to the bed. Hutch never stopped surprising him. He’d never expected his macho partner to even entertain the idea of having sex with a man. But here they were. He climbed onto the bed, leaning over his lover’s head.

Hutch clamped his mouth around Starsky’s shaft, deep throating instantly. His lips were soft against Starsky’s hardness.

Starsky thrust gently into Hutch’s oral cavity, gathering momentum as he fucked his partner’s face. It was so good being engulfed in the warmth of Hutch’s cavern.

Hutch groaned, moving his head in rhythm with Starsky’s hips, taking everything Starsky was giving him with ease.

Starsky felt the familiar tightening of his balls. He pulled back, not wanting to choke his blintz with his juices.

Hutch fastened his jaws around the base of Starsky’s cock, his teeth sinking into the flesh.

Starsky stilled. If he moved too quickly, he might possibly lose some skin here.

Hutch sucked at Starsky’s erection, teasing the head with his tongue, as Starsky had done to him.

Starsky’s arousal plummeted over the edge of the precipice. Unable to stop himself, Starsky drove deep into Hutch’s throat, semen bursting out of him with a ferocity that took his breath away. He was vaguely aware of Hutch swallowing frantically. His world blackened.

Feeling groggy, he slowly became aware of Hutch thrashing around underneath him. Starsky quickly rolled off of him.

Hutch gasped for air, coughing and sputtering with the effort.

“You okay?” Starsky asked. The last time he had seen Hutch floundering for breath that badly was when Eddie has almost throttled him. “Christ, I could have suffocated you.” He put his hand lightly on Hutch’s heaving chest, rubbing gently.

Hutch finally stopped panting. His face was flushed. “Not your fault.” He grinned. “How’s little Davey?”

Starsky looked at his cock, complete with teeth marks. “A little sore. You don’t do anything by halves, buddy. You almost bit him off. Who said I was the one in control?”

Hutch wiggled his captive wrists. “I’m the one tied up,” he said innocently.

“You sure are.” Starsky tweaked Hutch’s nipples. “And I’m the one who got manipulated. When did I get to be so lucky?” His hand went involuntary to his own chest. He traced the scars with his fingertips. His mind jumped back to another time, another bed.

Hutch climbed, drunk, into Starsky’s hospital bed. The door opened and Hutch dove under the covers. His hand brushed against Starsky’s groin. For the first time in a long time, Starsky’s penis had started to harden.

Hutch had noticed and, when everyone had gone, with Starsky settled in a dry bed, Hutch had offered to help Starsky with his frustration. They’d never looked back since.

“Starsk?”

Hutch’s voice brought Starsky back from his reverie. “Just remembering that first time.” He inhaled. “Let’s get you untied and cleaned up.

---

Pic from Richard’s Cakes, with a little (bad) modification to the figure.
http://www.richardscakes.co.uk/cake-gallery