In Other Words

Hutch can’t say “I love you.”

“Happy Anniversary, Hutch!”

The warm body snuggled against him froze involuntarily, and he hurried to reassure it. “Don’t worry, babe. We’re together for the long haul. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hutch slowly relaxed and snuggled close again, and Starsky silently cursed those in Hutch’s life who had ruined the words he really wanted to hear and say.

He remembered the first time he’d said them. They’d been like this, snuggled nude together after their first time, and he’d whispered them in Hutch’s ear. He’d meant every word, but Hutch had tensed, rolled out of bed and hurried for the bathroom. Starsky heard the lock click, then Hutch retching violently for long minutes. He wouldn’t answer Starsky’s frantic inquiries, or unlock the door.

When things grew quiet, the toilet flushed and the water came on as Hutch rinsed his mouth at the sink and seemed to do a quick clean up. The door finally unlocked, and Hutch came out fully dressed, picked up his gun off the nightstand and headed into the living room. He stepped into his loafers, grabbed his wallet and keys and left without a word, ignoring Starsky’s frantic protests.

He refused to answer the phone or the door the rest of the weekend. It was days before he spoke a word voluntarily, weeks before he allowed Starsky to touch him at all, and months before he surrendered to Starsky in bed again. He gave no explanation, but wanted no words of intimacy spoken between them. If Starsky forgot and said them, Hutch isolated himself all over again, and it took weeks, sometimes months to recover.

Starsky learned to be careful and say nothing intimate, especially around birthdays and anniversaries, but he wondered, and one day, he dared to ask.

“What’s wrong, Hutch? Why can’t we say the words?” He felt Hutch pull away, but he didn’t leave, because Starsky was careful not to say them.

After a long silence, Hutch sighed and offered, “They’re a cover up. A poor attempt at an apology. I don’t know what you’re apologizing for. I guess it’s different for everyone. But for me, I’m apologizing for my selfish failure to provide.”

“What are you talking about? Provide what?” Starsky looked at him in confusion.

“Whatever is expected of me.”

“Who the hell told you that?”

Hutch shrugged. “My father and ex-wife were quite specific about how selfish I am, and how the words are a dodge. He expected me to return home and join the family business, increase the family fortune. She expected the same wealthy lifestyle I was raised in, with social standing and servants. I did neither.” Hutch looked away in shame. “He disowned me and she left. Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

“Hutch, you have the right to do what makes you happy…”

“Not when being selfish hurts others.” Hutch was done with the conversation. “You asked, I explained. I do the best I can now, so I never have to say it.”

And they didn’t. Instead, Starsky learned to reassure and Hutch learned to accept it. It worked for them, mostly.

But Starsky refused to understand how words he considered tender could be so hurtful.

After a particularly stressful week, and multiple failed attempts to get together, Starsky found he needed to hear the words, and he asked Hutch to say them. He pulled Hutch close in bed and whispered, “Please, Hutch.”

Hutch frantically thought over what he’d done or hadn’t done, trying to figure out what he’d failed to provide. “I don’t understand, Starsk. I’m here. I provided the sex you wanted, I—” He hesitated as a thought struck him. “But that isn’t it, is it? There’s nothing special about the sex. You can get it from anyone. And have. You want the convenience. You want a partner ready and available when you have the need, and I haven’t been.” He curled in shame in Starsky’s arms. “You deserve a full apology.”

Starsky sighed. “Turn around and look at me, Hutch. You know the words I want you to say to me. Those are the words I need to hear.”

Hutch did what was expected. He turned and looked at Starsky and murmured, “I-I love you, Starsky. But I can do better if you’ll give me another chance.”

“Hutch…”

“I’ll pay closer attention to your wants and needs. I promise,” Hutch said anxiously. “We’re still together, aren’t we?”

“We’re together, babe,” Starsky affirmed.

Hutch sighed in relief, and they continued as before.

* * * *

“Let me ask you something, Hutch. If you could do anything at all with me in bed, what would you do?”

Hutch looked away and shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I—”

“There is something. Tell me,” Starsky encouraged.

“Hutch stared at Starsky hungrily. “After all this time, I’ve never been in your body. I want to watch you ride my cock.”

“God…” Starsky whispered.

“You don’t—?” Hutch froze.

“Do you know my favorite fantasy, Hutch? I grease my fingers and open myself for your cock. The last time, I tried to make myself come, but couldn’t push deep enough.”

Hutch shuddered, rolled to his back and ordered, “Mount me, Starsk.”

Starsky straddled him eagerly, rubbing against Hutch’s cock, feeling it harden against his ass. He captured it, and began to press down as it entered him. He moaned.

Hutch grabbed Starsky’s hips and guided him down, then urged him to move. Starsky rode him, fucking himself on Hutch’s cock. Hutch was thrilled at Starsky’s excitement, and he fondled Starsky’s weeping cock.

Starsky’s eyes glazed over. He gasped and spilled all over Hutch’s hand. Hutch arched and filled Starsky’s ass with his cum.

“Damn, Starsk! I can’t believe how good you felt!” Hutch closed his eyes. “You totally wore me out!”

Starsky carefully uncoupled and collapsed next to Hutch. He gathered Hutch in his arms and found himself about to whisper “I love you, Hutch,” but paused, suddenly understanding what Hutch meant about selfishness. In his heart, he was apologizing for words he knew would hurt his partner, words that no longer even meant what they used to, just because he wanted to say them.

He let them go and whispered a heartfelt, “Together forever, my Hutch.”

A smile of contentment lit Hutch’s face as he slept, and Starsky felt complete.