Love-All

2K

Hutch thinks playing tennis is a great idea for a day off. Starsky doesn’t agree.

 

This story was first written for the ‘net in 2000. It was taken down in 2002 with the intent of tightening it up and fixing POV. Eight years later it’s back, with cleaner POV.

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“Hey, Starsk, look at this.”

Starsky was too busy trying to get his candy bar unwrapped to look up. His stomach had been sending signals that lunch was long past and he couldn’t ignore them. “Look at what?”

“Look at this! This notice just went up on the bulletin board.” Hutch grabbed his arm just as he was about to take a bite of gooey chocolate goodness and dragged him to the board.

“Where?”

“Right in front of you! Read it.”

“Okay, okay.” Starsky looked at his chocolate regretfully and decided to placate his partner. He cleared his throat and read aloud. ‘”Announcing the first annual tennis tournament between the Ninth precinct and the DA’s office. Join in the fun and festivities of a challenging contest of skill and style. Sign up to play either doubles or singles by August 2nd. The matches will be played on Saturday, August 10th, commencing at 7:00 a.m. at the West Side Country Club.”‘ Starsky finished reading and turned back to Hutch. “So?”

“So! Come on, Starsk, it’ll be fun; you love tennis. Let’s sign up for a doubles match.”

“No way, partner, did you hear me read the time and date?”

“I read it for myself, remember? And I heard you. Of course I know the time and date. What’s the problem? We’re off that Saturday.”

“And that, my friend, is the problem. We’re off, as in the first Saturday off we’ll have had in weeks. As in sleeping as late as we want to. As in reading the paper all the way through. As in watching baseball on TV until our eyes fall out. As in,” Starsky lowered his voice to a whisper, “being able to eat breakfast in the nude with you.”

He got his desired reaction instantly, and tried to keep his smile from being smug as he watched the blush on Hutch’s face spread to his neck. He’d always been able to make Hutch blush, even before they were lovers, but the two years they’d spent as partners in every way had honed that skill to a science. It was an added bonus that his talent pissed Hutch off so much.

“Damn it, Starsky, my face is hot now!” Hutch brought both of his big hands to his face as if to hide the evidence. “How many times have I told you not to do that to me when we’re at work?”

Starsky waved his arms at the empty corridor. “I don’t see our audience, where are they?”

“They could be anywhere,” Hutch said. “We’re gonna make a rule…man, even my ears are burning.”

Starsky leaned in close enough to Hutch’s ear that he could almost feel its heat. “No one’s around to listen in, okay, and I wanted to remind you of what we can do on our Saturday off besides battin’ balls over a net.”

Hutch lowered his hands, revealing all of his still pink face. “You’re trying to distract me, I got that part, but a grown up cop like me can handle it and gain control of the situation.”

“You’re actually gonna try and turn this into a situation?”

“How long has it been since our last situation?”

“Yesterday mornin’. Whole milk versus skim.”

Hutch nodded. “We’re not done with that situation, either, Starsk.”

Starsky folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “We’re done. I’m not pouring colored water over my Frosted Flakes.”

“Do you know how much that pisses me off? I never say a word about those Frosted Flakes, which are basically just a bowl of sugar, but when I ask you to just consider switching to my milk; you give me a hard time.”

“Ask me to consider? You asked me nothin’, you just hid my milk!”

“I thought that would make it easier for you to consider.”

“You’re such a saint.” Starsky shook his head, then smacked Hutch lightly on his cheek. “See? We already got enough of a situation to deal with. We don’t need another one.”

“But, Starsk…” Starsky could hear the patented Hutchinson reasonable tone as clear as a bell. “You love to play tennis.”

“Not at seven a.m.”

“You’re a better player than I am, and you play a lot more than I do.”

“I repeat, not at seven a.m.”

“We just have to be there at seven, we won’t know until we get there what spot we’ll have on the roster.”

“No sale, I’d rather stay home and relax.” Starsky took a bite of his candy bar and started to walk a few steps, then turned and asked, “Why are you all worked up over this? They post community activities on that board all the time, and you never wanna do any of them, but now… you really wanna play?”

“Yeah, I do. Just the thought at being able to smash a few balls at the feet of the ADAs who threw out, how many of our cases last year? Well, that thought makes me happy.” Hutch grinned. “You know I’m not one to brag-”

Starsky was glad he’d already swallowed before the laughter burst out of him. “Really? Just when exactly did you start that practice?”

“Well, I don’t brag much. At least to anyone but you, but is it really bragging to say that I’m a decent tennis player?”

“No, I guess not. You’re decent.”

“Gee, thanks, Starsk.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hutch grabbed his hand, the one with the chocolate, just as he was about to take a bite. “Hutch, lemme eat!”

“Just listen, will you? If I’m decent, you’re…more decent.”

“That’s true, I am, and I’m also hungry so let go!”

“Okay, okay, eat.” Hutch let go of his hand. “But while you’re eating just think of what the two of us could do in a doubles match. Decent and more decent… we’d kill ’em! We could run their tight-asses into the ground! The only exercise those stuffed-shirt prigs get is counting how many cases they don’t have to prosecute. Tennis is your game and with me as your partner in a doubles match…they’d be toast, Starsk, toast!”

“You know, it’s not like I’m tryin’ to keep you from eating toast or anything.” He really didn’t like disappointing Hutch, but he was just flat out not interested in playing competitive tennis on a rare free Saturday. He spent enough time with the ADAs when he was being paid for it to suit him just fine. “You can go and kill ’em and eat your toast.”

“You sure I can’t interest you in a match?”

Starsky placed his free palm flat on Hutch’s stomach to prevent him from moving in any closer. “Now who’s startin’ to flirt at an inappropriate place?” he asked pointedly. “Sorry, it’s just not how I want to spend my day off, but if you want to play, go ahead and sign up for a singles match. I said you could go play.”

Hutch bristled a little. “Thank you for your permission my lord and master.”

“You’re welcome. Happy now?” Starsky took another bite of his candy and gave him a huge smile. “And, are we ever gonna go home tonight? I’m hungry.”

“Starsky, you’re eating a candy bar. How can you be hungry even while you’re eating?”

“Just extra talented I guess. Come on, I wanna go home.”

“Fine, let’s go, but would you wipe your mouth?”

“Where?”

Hutch groaned. “You have more than one mouth? Wipe the one with the chocolate all over it.”

“Hutch, you’re soundin’ cranky. Are you gonna be mad at me all week just ’cause I don’t wanna play tennis on my day off?”

“Don’t give me that guileless look with the batting eyes and all. I’m not mad, and I won’t be mad. After all, I do have your permission to play myself. Let’s go home and talk about milk.”

~*~*~

Starsky was a patient man, most of the time, anyway. However, the days leading up to what Hutch kept calling the Big Match were trying his patience sorely. Not that this was a particularly new behavior of Hutch’s that was making him nuts. No, he was used to Hutch taking on a new idea or project with the intensity of a zealot, but this was getting out of hand. They didn’t have breakfast together now because Hutch used the time to run two miles followed by a handful of granola. Starsky missed him at breakfast. He missed their milk situation. And it wasn’t just breakfast. All week their dinners had been awful since Hutch insisted on cutting out anything with sugar, flour, or flavor. Starsky was reduced to eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the couch while he tried to watch TV. And watching TV was nearly impossible around the constant motion of Hutch doing sit-ups and push-ups and leg lunges all while half-dressed. There was never anything on TV good enough to distract him from the sight of his mostly bare partner stretching and groaning and sweating in their living room. After the sweating was over he’d take a shower and be sound asleep before Starsky even had his teeth brushed.

Yeah, he wasn’t getting laid, either. What a crappy week.

On the last night before the Big Match he’d had enough. “Hutch, you do know that you’re only playin’ tennis at the West Side Country Club tomorrow mornin’, not Wimbledon, right? I think I’ve been pretty damn patient with you turning the living room into a gym, grunting instead of talking to me, and working up so much sweat you’re too tired to do anything but sleep once you quit. I hate to tell you this, buddy, but watching you sweat is boring.”

“That’s a lie,” Hutch said between sit-ups. “You love to watch me sweat.”

“Yeah, that was a lie. A big one. I love to watch you sweat. But you’re still not training for Wimbledon.”

“It might not be Wimbledon, Starsk, but I’ll have the honor of the Department on my back tomorrow.”

“The whole Department? Man, is your back gonna be sore.”

“Stop trying to be a comic and let me finish…twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty…then I promise I’ll join you on the couch and show you a little attention for being such a… twenty–”

“I think you’re done now.” Starsky had quietly slipped off the couch and now had both feet planted on either side of Hutch’s hips. If Hutch tried another sit up in this position he might get one of the blow jobs he’d been missing so much. “We haven’t had sex in five days. Yeah, you’re done right now.”

Hutch’s eyes were huge as he stared up at him. “How do you do that? You move as silently as a cat. One second you’re draped all over that couch and the next second you’re standing right on top of me. I never could figure out how you do that.”

Starsky slowly sank to his knees and arranged his ass over Hutch’s crotch, making sure his knees still held most of his weight. He wiggled a little, just to get Hutch’s cock interested in the action, and pulled the scrap of t-shirt Hutch was wearing free from the hem of his shorts. He reached aggressively under the damp cloth, pinching Hutch’s nipples to hardness, then stroking his sweaty abdomen. He traced the ridge of muscle under Hutch’s rib cage. Muscle that was more pronounced after the week of vigorous workouts. “I like to keep some secrets from ya. Can’t have you learning all my tricks.”

“That’ll be the day, when I learn all your tricks.” Hutch’s eyes closed when Starsky raised his shirt higher, but his hands went to his own nipples and he groaned. “I’m all sweaty, babe.”

Starsky drank in the sight of Hutch fingering his nipples, knowing there was nothing hotter in the world for him to see. Unless it was when Hutch played with his cock…Starsky didn’t need anymore distracting thoughts, not now, so he batted Hutch’s hands away and put his lips and teeth around the copper-colored nipples, sucking in the salt, savoring the flavor. Nibbles turned to nips and the sound of Hutch starting to pant turned him on even more. He used his nails to rake taut flesh, making Hutch jump.

“Ah, Starsk…good, that’s…nice.”

“Just nice? I’ll have to do better.” Starsky gave Hutch’s shorts a slight tug, lowering them enough to expose his belly button. He nipped there, too, making sure he had Hutch’s full attention, then put his finger in his mouth and sucked it hard, staring just at hard at Hutch so he could see the evidence for himself, see how turned on he was making his partner. He drew the finger in and out; still watching Hutch’s face. Yeah, he had his attention. Starsky brought the wet finger to Hutch’s lower belly, slowing circling the indention until Hutch started to writhe. “Better? Or is it still just nice?”

“God, it’s…right…put it….

“Oh, yeah, bet your ass I’m gonna put it. Put it good and hard, but first…” Starsky raised his ass a little in the air as he leaned over, capturing Hutch’s wrists in his hands and pinning them to the carpet high over his head. “…you need to be kissed silly, Hutchinson. Absolutely fuckin’ silly”

Their lips met, but not in a gentle way. Starsky plunged deeply into Hutch’s mouth, his need raw and hungry. They kissed for long minutes, Starsky reluctantly letting Hutch have a turn to take the lead, then felt himself melting when that talented, slippery tongue possessed him. Then it was his turn again. Back and forth they shared their primal male need for dominance until the need to breathe made them break away, gasping. Starsky took in some air, released Hutch’s wrists, then used his fingers to stroke around Hutch’s open, wet mouth. “Yeah, kiss you silly.”

“Starsk, get naked for me, I wanna see you, feel you.” Hutch’s voice was deep, thick with lust, and it just turned Starsky on more.

“‘Course I will, gonna get you naked too, in fact I’m takin’ ya to bed right now. Come on.” Starsky stood on shaky legs, reaching a hand down to help Hutch to his feet. The shrill ring of the phone stopped him. “No. Oh, no, the phone.”

Hutch’s groan sounded miserable. “Oh, no, not now, not tonight.”

Starsky stared at the phone, trying to make his fogged brain understand why the hell it was ringing. There was only one hopeful thought to cling to. “Maybe it’s a wrong number?”

“Maybe.” Hutch looked doubtful and the phone continued to ring. “One of us has to answer it you know.”

“I know.”

“Well, you’re already up.”

Starsky stared pointedly at the tented fabric of Hutch’s shorts. “So are you, buddy.”

“Shit. Just answer the damn phone, Starsky.”

Starsky added his own cursing to the choice words Hutch was mumbling, then grabbed the receiver, all hope extinguished. The phone was blaring out a doomsday bell because he was having a crappy week and apparently someone up there was determined to keep it that way. “Hello.” Starsky lowered his chin to his chest, “Uh-huh.”

“Who is it?” Hutch asked in a loud whisper.

Starsky covered the phone “Who do you think?”

“No!”

Starsky uncovered the receiver again. “Okay, fifteen minutes.” He hung up the phone and turned to his partner. “We gotta go in.”

“You couldn’t get us more than fifteen minutes? Fifteen fucking minutes…what the hell is going on?” Hutch yelled, but he was already walking to the bedroom where Starsky knew clean clothes would soon be tossed all over the room in his hurry to get ready for duty.

“A sniper downtown, three victims already in the morgue. We’ve gotta back up SWAT; Dobey’s calling in all the men he can round up.

Hutch whistled. “Okay, I guess that outranks our sex life and the Big Match I have to play in the morning.”

“Ain’t life grand?” Starsky hurried to follow Hutch to the bedroom. Their fifteen minutes were ticking off quickly.

~*~*~

It was 2:00 a.m. Saturday morning when Starsky pulled the Torino carelessly into the driveway of their small house, nearly clipping a lemon tree that Hutch had been babying along all year. Starsky was tired to his bones, and one glance at Hutch’s exhausted face told him he felt the same. The five-hour standoff between the sniper and the police had played havoc with their nerves and endurance. The only bright spot was that the combined efforts of all the personnel involved had prevented any more casualties.

Starsky shut the engine off and reached a hand over to Hutch’s knee giving it a slight shake. “Come on, buddy, if you lean on me and I lean on you we might just be able to get out of this car, go inside, and crawl into bed.” Starsky opened his door activating the dome light. He saw him more clearly now, and the expression that Hutch was wearing was not just exhausted, it was also dazed. “Hutch? Come on, let’s go. Bed. Sleep. Now.”

Hutch turned his head and rubbed red-rimmed eyes. “Starsky, I have to play tennis in five hours. Five hours and I haven’t slept yet. I’m gonna get creamed.”

“Yeah, well I’ll be the one doin’ the creamin’ right now, if you don’t move your ass out of this car and come inside.”

Hutch nodded and got out, mumbling something under his breath, but Starsky was too tired to care right then. He just made sure Hutch was following him to their front door. “Keys?” he asked, not finding his own on the ring in his hand. “Do you have your house key on you?

“Five hours, Starsk, I have to play in five hours.” Hutch dug a key out of his pocket but fumbled it around, not quite getting it in the lock. “Five hours.”

“Shut up until we get inside, it’s the middle of the stinkin’ night!” Starsky took the key from Hutch none to gently, opened the door, and pulled his weary partner inside behind him. “Bed, we gotta go to bed. We’re both dead on our feet.” He took off his jacket and gun and gestured at Hutch until he did the same, then led the way to their bedroom.

“You’re not listening to me at all; I’m trying to tell you that I have to be on the courts in five hours!”

Starsky sighed loudly, utterly exhausted and utterly out of patience. “Just what do you want me to do about it right now?” he muttered as he made his way to the small adjoining bathroom. Leaving the door open, he completed only the essential, then quickly washed his hands and face while listening to Hutch pace and murmur noises of disbelief.

“You could let me complain. I mean, can you believe it? All week I’ve been getting ready, all week!” Starsky exited the bathroom in time to clearly hear Hutch utter one coherent sentence. He nodded and gestured towards the now empty bathroom. “You know I have.” Hutch shook a long finger at his partner as if Starsky had been about to deny the intensity of his efforts.

Starsky simply continued to nod, hoping Hutch would take that as encouragement to go to the bathroom so they could go to sleep. “And now I’m probably going to play like a slug all because I’m tired.”

Starsky restrained himself from snapping out the obvious, that a tired man belonged in bed. He simply stripped off his clothes and climbed between the sheets. “Hurry up!”

He fell asleep during the time Hutch was in the bathroom, but woke up when Hutch sat on the bed fully dressed. “Hutch, for God’s sake would you take your clothes off and get into bed? I wanna go to sleep!” He sat up a little to make sure Hutch recognized he was serious and that he’d happily strip him himself if Hutch didn’t get moving. Of course, he didn’t actually have the energy to do that so he was grateful when Hutch managed to get down to boxers and socks on his own. All he had to do was pull Hutch’s arm to get him under the covers. “Mission accomplished. G’night.”

“Five hours.”

“You’re actually gonna make me kill you, huh? Physically end your life just so I can sleep… Listen, Hutch, you don’t have to play some stupid tennis game in five hours. We’ll set the alarm for seven, call ‘em and tell ‘em you’re sick, then we’ll stay in bed as long as we want to, doesn’t that sound good?” Starsky pulled Hutch close to try and cuddle him into calmness, not to choke him. Or smack him. Or do something to shut him the hell up.

“It sounds good, but I’m not doing it. I worked too hard all week not to play and I bought new tennis clothes. No, I’ll be there but I bet I’ll stink.”

Can’t choke him…Starsky cuddled Hutch closer, reminding himself that when Hutch was this tired his ability to think clearly and rationally was sometimes non-existent. Like now. “Okay, whatever you want. All I know is I’m goin’ to sleep, and if you’re really gonna play in your stupid match you might wanna do the same.”

“Did you set the alarm?” Hutch asked.

Can’t smack him, either. “No. I didn’t set the alarm for you, but I’ll take care of that right now.” Starsky switched on the lamp, reached across Hutch for the alarm sitting on his night stand, and asked, “what time am I setting it for?”

“I don’t know. Five-thirty. Oh, shit, five-thirty….

“I’m setting it for six. That’ll give you three plus hours to sleep if you’ll shut up now. Will ya? Please?”

“I don’t think I’ve been talking much.”

Starsky wrapped him in a full-body hug. Maybe he’d just bruise him a little bit.

~*~*~

Starsky squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the slight light entering the bedroom. He’d been half-awake and half-asleep ever since Hutch had gotten up and started his shower. Starsky hadn’t heard the alarm at all, but as soon as Hutch had started the water running and the noise of teeth being scrubbed and mouthwash gargled reached his ears, solid sleep was lost to him. At least he’d gotten a few hours of sleep in, and hoped Hutch had done the same.

The sound of a drawer being closed, very, very slowly was what pulled him fully awake. “You can quit tryin’ to be quiet, I’m up.” Starsky sat up against the headboard and switched on the bedside lamp, startling his partner who blinked against the sudden bright illumination. Hutch was wearing a jock strap and holding an ice-blue colored shirt. His hair was still wet and moisture clung to his chest and legs.

“Did I wake you?”

“Nah, it was that other guy I live with.”

Hutch chuckled. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. Hey, you didn’t do a real good job of dryin’ off, ya know. You’re dripping wet.”

“I’m in a hurry; it’s just my hair that’s dripping. How come I can’t find any socks?” Hutch dropped the shirt on the bed as he opened another drawer.

“They’re all in the basket in the closet; we haven’t put the clean laundry away yet. Not that you ever put much of it away…um, sorry, that was bitchy and you actually seem kind of cheerful.”

“Don’t worry about it, Starsk, I’m ignoring you.”

“How come you’re so cheerful on three hours sleep?”

“I’m just getting my game face on.”

Starsky stretched and opened his eyes up all the way, really seeing Hutch. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Hutch in a jock, and he didn’t remember him ever looking so…juicy in one before. His long legs looked even longer since the jock was cut so high. And it was so tight. And Hutch’s ass was so bare. And he was bent over that basket… Starsky felt his cock harden. . “When do you have to leave?”

“Five minutes ago.” Hutch walked over to the bed holding his socks and sat down. “I’m trying not to let myself get nervous about what time it is.” He put the socks on quickly and started to rise. “Hey!”

Starsky had his partner encircled at the waist, making sure he wasn’t getting up right that second. “Can’t you be just a couple’a minutes late?” he asked, pressing his bare chest against Hutch’s bare back, and reaching for a delicious curve of ass.

“Starsk…babe, you gotta let me up. I’m already going to be late, but I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get home. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while?”

Starsky fingered his erection. “I don’t think this is gonna let me sleep.”

Hutch reached for his new linen tennis shorts, giving them a quick shake. He nodded at Starsky. “You know, if you need to do something about that while I’m gone, I’m not going to consider it cheating on me or anything.

“Nope, we’d both rather wait for the real thing. Just what time are you gettin’ home?”

“I won’t know until I see what spot I drew on the roster, and of course how well I play. I might be eliminated my first set.” Hutch said, followed by a shudder. He started to pull his shorts on.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Starsky asked, while re-wrapping himself in the quilt.

“What?”

“Underwear, ya know? Briefs?”

“I’m wearing a jock.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Starsky eyed the generous pouch hungrily. “But I think it would be better if you had something coverin’ your bare ass besides white tennis shorts. You’ll flash the whole crowd.”

Hutch finished fastening the shorts and smiled. “The shorts are lined, Starsk, no one will see anything.”

“Since when do you skip your skivvies in public?”

“I don’t want anything riding up, and maybe distracting me in the middle of play. I checked out the lining on these shorts before I bought them. It’s thick, nothing will show through.”

“Yeah? Well turn around, I wanna make sure.”

Sighing loudly, Hutch turned around and presented his ass for Starsky’s inspection. “Okay, satisfied? You can’t see anything.”

“Maybe not, but I’ll know your ass is bare under there.”

“But you’ll be here, not there so it won’t bother you at all.” Hutch gave him a quick peck on the nose before pulling his shirt on and tucking it in. “How do I look?”

“Good.” Gorgeous

“Thanks. Okay, I’m out of here, wish me luck.” Hutch grabbed his keys from the dresser and headed for the door.

“Not so fast, Blondie, come ‘ere and give me a real kiss.”

“My pleasure.” Hutch reached the bed in three long strides and grasped Starsky by the shoulders. Mouths met and meshed in perfect tempo, passion tempered, but promises made in the dueling of wet tongues. Hutch broke off first. “Think that’ll hold you until I get back?”

“I guess it’s gotta. Go on, get out of here, you’re late.”

Hutch laughed, and hurried out of the room. “Play good,” Starsky yelled, before falling backwards on the mattress with a loud groan of frustration.

~*~*~

Starsky did try to go back to sleep. He manhandled his pillow into a comfortable nest and rolled in the quilt cocoon style. The bed felt too big, though, too empty without Hutch in it. Try as he might, he just couldn’t relax his tense body enough to sleep.

Enough is enough he decided, throwing the covers off and heading for the shower. Once inside the bathroom he shook his head in amazement at the mess Hutch had left behind. He started the shower and tidied up a little while the water got hot. Wet towels were placed in the hamper, the cap from the toothpaste was replaced on the tube, and the mouthwash put back in the medicine cabinet.

Stepping inside the warm spray he soaped himself, thinking of all the things he’d told Hutch he wanted to do today, instead of play tennis. Sleep in–well that’s out. Read the paper from cover to cover-it’s always a boring paper on Saturday, I should’ve remembered that. Watch baseball on TV–it’s too early for a game to be on. Eat breakfast in the nude–not alone, that would be weird and no fun at all. So what am I gonna do until Hutch gets home? House is clean. Torino’s clean. Don’t wanna go to the grocery store or pay the bills, I called Mom yesterday…shit, I don’t have anything to do!

He shampooed his thick hair; feeling slightly perturbed at himself for having no clue what to do on a Saturday off. Reaching for Hutch’s conditioner, he worked it into his wet tangle enjoying the vanilla scent that he associated with his partner.

Hutch looked so hot before he left; that shirt was exactly the color of his eyes. He’s gonna have the ladies lusting after him all day. Probably some of the men, too. The thought was amusing, not threatening. Hutch had never given him a minute’s worry that he would ever be unfaithful. No, their bond was far too strong for either to take stupid risks and the need wasn’t there. In each other they’d found a physical satisfaction that neither had experienced with another. The love had been there from the beginning.

At once, Starsky imagined Hutch on the court. Strong arm raised overhead for a perfect serve with a killer spin, powerful legs bouncing as he waited for the return. Unless he aced it, Hutch had a great serve.

Yeah, he’s gonna give the crowd an eyeful…wait a minute, wait a minute, why the crowd and not me? He’s my partner! If anyone’s got a right to ogle him it’s me. Why the hell am I not there? I should be there supporting him, cheering him on, and checking out just how the well the lining of those shorts is holding up in the sunlight.

Starsky was galvanized into action, finding denim cut-offs and a clean t-shirt in record time. He didn’t bother with socks or underwear, just pulled on his sneakers, grabbed his keys, wallet, and sunglasses and was in the Torino in less than five minutes. He never even realized that he was whistling.

~*~*~

The West Side Country Club catered to an upper middle class clientele, but was happy to rent out part of its facilities to a friendly competition between officers of the court. Starsky drove up to the well-appointed building that housed the bar and restaurant, as well as the pro shop. He ignored the valet parking sign, preferring to park his car himself. A quick glance at his watch showed the time to be 8:40, and finding an open parking space near the rear of the lot, he wondered if Hutch had started to play already.

It didn’t take Starsky long to find the path leading to the courts and see the risers holding a polite crowd of friends and family watching the matches. The distinct sound of balls meeting clay reached his ears before he reached the bleachers.

He saw Hutch in the left court and resisted the urge to wave and catch his attention, seeing as how he was in the middle of a spirited volley. He spotted an empty space between two women seated in the lowest row of the left risers and hurried to claim the spot.

“G’mornin’,” Starsky greeted the women pleasantly as he wedged himself in between them. “Enjoyin’ the game?”

“Good morning, and yes, it’s quite exciting,” the woman to Starsky’s left answered..

“You ladies wouldn’t happen to know the score would ya?” Starsky asked, smiling briefly, his eyes riveted on Hutch who was rushing the net.

“30-Love, I believe, it’s the second game of the first set,” the first woman said.

“Which one has the 30?” Starsky sat forward a little to prevent being squeezed off the bench.

“The tall blond man,” the second woman answered, and Starsky couldn’t help but notice the admiration in her voice. “His opponent can’t place his shots nearly as well.”

“That so? The blond’s playin’ good?” Starsky could see for himself that Hutch was indeed playing very well.

“Oh, yes,” the first woman responded. “Lydia and I have been enjoying watching this game.”

Realizing that he was close to being pulled into a real conversation with the two women, Starsky just nodded politely, hoping they’d ignore him so he could concentrate on watching his partner. Hutch had just taken the last point.

“40-Love,” announced a man Starsky recognized as Mark Redmond from R&I acting today as tennis judge. “Game point.” Starsky’s eyes were riveted on Hutch as he strode to the baseline to serve.

Nice one, babe, you aced it, like I knew ya would. Look at that little grin on your face while you bounce that ball, you’re not even watching the other guy, nope, just standing there all cool and calm. Damn, it should be illegal to look that good in a stupid pair of shorts and a shirt. Who else but you could do it? Who else but me knows you’re feeling a little smug right now? Look at you, you’re gonna ace this next one too.

And he did. Smooth and hard the ball hit just fast enough to be impossible for the stunned ADA to return. “Game to Sergeant Hutchinson. He leads two games to none. Players, there will be a five minute break before you reverse courts to begin game three.” Starsky was amused at the officious voice Mark was using in his role as tennis judge.

Hutch walked off the court and headed for the stack of towels sitting next to a large tub of iced soft drinks. Grabbing a towel, he patted his lightly perspiring face and grabbed a cold coke, glancing at the crowd while he opened it. Starsky just watched, wondering how long it would take Hutch to spot him.

Bingo.

“Starsk!” Hutch’s eyes opened wide in pleasure when he spotted him. Starsky smiled back as he waited for Hutch to join him at the bench. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m watching you play tennis, dummy, what’s it look like I’m doin’?” Starsky wiggled free from his snug position between the two women. He rose to his feet smoothly, and briefly clasped Hutch’s elbow.

“Ladies, will you please be kind enough to hold my seat?” He turned his smile up a few degrees, his eyes crinkling into slits. “I need to give my friend here a few pointers, but I’ll be back.”

The light rumblings of the spectators and the noise coming from the other active courts fell away as they found a semi-private spot, eyes and ears available only for each other.

“I thought you were going to try and go back to sleep?”

Starsky saw the expression Hutch was wearing for what it was. “You’re real happy to see me.”

“And you’re full of yourself.”

“But you are.”

“Okay, I am…but what happened to the sleep?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t and it was boring at home, I didn’t have anything to do and so I thought I’d come here and get a little sun.”

“What about reading the paper through cover to cover?”

“Boring.”

“What about watching baseball on TV?”

“Too early for any games to be on.”

“What about eating breakfast in the nude?” Hutch arched an eyebrow suggestively.

“Alone? Don’cha think that would be a little weird?”

“So, basically you missed me?”

“Get over yourself, Hutch. I just wanted to make sure your ass wasn’t flashin’ the crowd in this bright sun.”

“You missed me. Admit it. You got as little sleep as I did last night, and you could have fallen back after I left if you’d really tried. I’ve seen you fall asleep in a straight-backed chair before. No, you missed me.”

“Okay, Blondie, I missed ya, it’s boring at home without you. Happy now?”

“I knew it all the time.” Hutch looked up as the signal was given for players to return to the court. “Gotta go, I’m glad you’re here, Starsk.”

“Me, too. Um, you’re lookin’ real good out there ya know. You’re playing real good, too. Playing like you’re twenty-eight instead of thirty-eight.”

Hutch threw an arm around Starsky’s shoulder. “Thanks. Now once I finish cleaning up the courts, you and I can go home and pick up where we left off last night. I’m feeling very energized now.”

“Hutch?” His partner stopped and turned around.

“Yeah?”

“Play fast, okay?”

“You got it, now go back to your seat and watch my smoke.”

Starsky did as he was told, returning to his cramped seat to watch Hutch begin the third game. His prior seatmates smiled a welcome back and moved over to let him in.

“So, you’re friends with the fine tennis player, we see.” Starsky knew the speaker’s name to be Lydia, he still didn’t know the other woman’s name and realized that he hadn’t introduced himself, either.

“Yes ma’am, good friends.”

“What do you know about him, is he…?”

“I know everything about him. He’s my partner.”

The two women exchanged glances but Starsky didn’t notice, he was watching Hutch in play.

Nice lob, Hutch, clean and smooth. Yeah, that was an easy point. You’re gonna try and shut this poor guy out again aren’t you? Okay, now watch him, he’s looking pissed, he’s gonna go for your backhand, gonna try and place his shot just behind you, and watch your shoes! How did your lace come untied?

“Oh, shit!” Starsky realized he had sworn aloud when the two women looked startled.

“I beg your pardon,” asked the still nameless woman.

“His shoe, his lace is undone. Ah, he’s a great athlete and all, but kind of a klutz, if he catches that lace with his other foot…” Starsky shook his head as Hutch did just that, stepped on the loose lace of his left shoe with his right one. His right ankle twisted at an odd angle before Hutch fell down hard on his side. His groan could be heard in the bleachers and Starsky stood up to see better.

The game came to a halt as the spectators, judge, and opponent all waited for Hutch to get to his feet. “Damn it!” Hutch shouted the curse as he tried to stand, and fell back down. “Damn!”

Starsky sprinted to the court, beating both Mark and the opposing player who were making their way to Hutch. He pulled Hutch against his chest, helping him sit up. “Looks like you forgot to tie your shoes in a double knot, partner.” Starsky started probing as gently as he could down Hutch’s right leg. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“My foot, just my foot. I think I might have twisted it.”

“Yeah, I think you did. How about here?” Starsky rubbed lightly against Hutch’s scraped right knee. “This hurt much?”

“No, just my foot. Starsk, I have to finish the game, help me up, okay, so I can talk to Mark, see if he’ll postpone it a little until I can catch my breath.” A small crowd was beginning to gather around them as Starsky gingerly removed Hutch’s right shoe and sock, feeling around the rapidly swelling ankle.

“Sorry, Hutch, but you can’t play on that. I’ll be surprised it you can walk without help. I don’t think it’s broken but it’s definitely sprained and I’m taking you to get it x-rayed now, just to be sure.”

“Starsky, it’s not that bad.” Hutch tried to get up again, but Starsky held on tight.

“Match is over, buddy,” he said firmly. “Now just hang on a second… Mark?” Starsky called their co-worker over. “Mark, I’m taking Hutch to the doctor, he’s not playing anymore.”

“Sorry, Hutch, you were doing great,” the R&I clerk moved close, his voice low. “I was pulling for you to make a clean sweep. Here, let me help you up.”

Together, Starsky and Mark got Hutch to one foot and leaning heavily on Starsky’s shoulder.
“Can you hold these?” Starsky placed Hutch’s shoe and sock in his left hand and tightened his hold on the right arm draped around him, his left arm around Hutch’s waist.

“Yeah, I can hold them, let’s just get out of here, people are staring at me.”

“That’s just because of the shorts, Hutch.” Starsky grinned at his partner’s annoyed expression. “Come on, wave to your fans and let’s go.”

“You’re such a comedian. If we could get you booked on Johnny Carson we’d be rich.” Hutch grimaced a little, and Starsky saw him try and put some weight on his bad foot. “Ouch!”

“Knock it off and keep that foot up! Okay, we’re movin’ now.” Starsky guided the two of them off the courts and slowly to the path leading to the parking lot. It was awkward going with Hutch hopping on his uninjured foot and Starsky trying to hold him steady. Finally they reached the edge of the lot and finding a bench, Starsky sat Hutch down. “I’m gonna go get the car so you don’t have to walk as far. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Starsky sprinted to the car and was back at Hutch’s side in under two minutes. “Okay, let’s get you in the chariot.” Starsky got Hutch up, in, and settled carefully on the passenger seat. “Hey, it’s been a while since we’ve been at the emergency room, think they’ll remember us?”

Hutch shook his head. “God, I hope not. Who was in last? You or me?”

“You were, remember? You put your hand through that glass window when we were trying to cuff that dealer.”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that.” Hutch looked embarrassed as he spoke. “Starsk?”

“The answer’s gonna be no.”

“You don’t know the question yet,” Hutch said loudly.

“Sure I do. You’re about to tell me that you examined your own ankle while I was getting the car, and in your expert opinion there’s nothing wrong with it that a little ice at home won’t fix. Then you’re gonna say how much better it would be to try that first rather than waiting around in the emergency room. You’ll probably bat your eyes at me some, let me know they’re all blue and innocent, then you’ll ask me if I agree with you.”

“And you’ll say no.” Hutch sank back against his seat.

“Yeah, I’ll say no.”

Hutch reached his hand out and traced along the curve of Starsky’s cheek. “You didn’t shave…sorry, buddy, I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend our day off. If I’d listened to you, we’d be eating scrambled eggs naked right now, instead of heading for the emergency room.”

“At least you know now that I’m always right.” Starsky smiled, enjoying the feel of Hutch’s hand stroking his face and throat. “Hey, don’t worry about it, let’s just get you checked out and then we’ll head home and not leave again all weekend.”

“That sounds good,” Hutch said, then squirmed some.

“Hurts more?” Starsky asked, inching the car’s speed up.

“Yeah. You’re probably gonna have to baby me for days. Lots of attention.”

“Too bad, we both know how much you hate that.” Starsky laughed and rubbed Hutch’s good knee. “I gotcha covered.”

~*~*~

“Home sweet home,” Starsky sang out, opening the front door as wide as he could to allow Hutch room to get inside on his crutches. “You picked up the hang of those things again real fast, considering it’s been a while since you were on them last.”

“Thanks, but it’s a skill I wouldn’t mind losing. At least this time I only have to use them a couple of days,” Hutch said, making his way towards the couch.

“Yep, if you stay off it like the doc told you to do, and we watch the swelling, you’ll be as good as new in no time. Does it still hurt?”

“No, just a twinge, the tape helps.” Hutch sank onto the couch, tossing the crutches aside.

Starsky moved the coffee table close to the couch and added a sofa cushion to it before lifting Hutch’s leg on top. “How’s that?”

“Fine. Better. Where’re you going?” Hutch asked as Starsky started to leave the room.

“I thought I’d make us somethin’ to eat, while we watch TV. Some game has to be on by now, so we can do at least one thing I wanted to do today,” Starsky teased. “You feel like anything special?”

“No, not really. Whatever you want to make.”

“Okay, I’ll surprise you. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Once in the kitchen, Starsky found a tray, then searched through every cupboard until he had it filled to his satisfaction. He stopped briefly at the TV on his way back to Hutch, and juggled the tray while he snapped it on, switched the dials, and found a game. “Hey, great! Dodgers-Mets, now we’re in business.” Hurrying to the couch he sat down close to Hutch and placed the tray on the table.

“This looks interesting, Starsk.” The tray held a large bag of potato chips, a bowl of pitted olives, a small plate of pickles, sliced salami, cheddar cheese, and two bottles of beer. Were we out of cold pizza?”

“Shut up and eat, s’good.” Starsky popped a slice of salami in his mouth and chewed it in delight. “I love salami.”

“I know.” Hutch smiled, and rubbed Starsky’s thigh. “Can you grab me some cheese?”

Both men relaxed, enjoying their snack and the comforting drone of the TV. Starsky kept encouraging Hutch’s head down lower and lower until Hutch was resting it against his shoulder. He moved some loose strands of hair off of Hutch’s forehead. “Why don’t you just put your head in my lap and close your eyes? A little cat-nap would probably do you a lot of good. You’ve gotta be exhausted.”

“I know I should be, but I’m not really sleepy. Plus, your shoulder feels good.”

“Whatever floats your boat, buddy.” Starsky secured Hutch a little more tightly with his right arm, then reached for some more salami with his left. Hutch felt warm and familiar in his arms and what could’ve been a nasty accident was a manageable one. No hospital stay, no cast. Hutch was home with him and safe. The salami was delicious, the beer was ice cold, and the Dodgers were winning. Life was good.

“Starsk, can you get an olive for me,” Hutch asked, interrupting his reverie. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

“Sure,” he speared the olive on the tip of his finger and brought it to Hutch’s mouth. “Here ya go.”

Hutch captured his hand between his own, surprising him. He was further surprised when Hutch licked along his finger suggestively, then used his tongue to loosen the speared olive. “Ummm, that’s good.” Hutch was using his bedroom tone. What the hell?

“What the hell, Hutch?”

“What? It tastes good.”

“Uh-huh. You’re using the same ‘ummm’ sound you make when you give me head.”

“I don’t make any ‘ummm’ sound when I give you head! The olive just tastes good, that’s all.” Hutch sat up and pushed his hair back revealing flushed cheeks.

“You got all hot and bothered just cuddling with me, didn’t you?” Starsky knew he was right even as he asked the question. The flushed cheeks gave Hutch away, although it wouldn’t hurt to check under his zipper.

“I did not! I’m injured, remember? It was just the olive, the olive tasted good.”

“I guess I taste like an olive, then, ‘cause that’s the noise you make when you’re givin’ me head, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“I admit nothing.”

“So, you don’t want to admit that you’d like a little action?”

“I’m injured.”

“I’m betting your cock is feeling just fine.” Starsky reached for the zipper on the white shorts. “As your partner, the one who’ll be taking care of you and all your injuries for the next few days, it’s my duty to remove these shorts and carefully examine your cock. Just to make sure that I’m right and it’s feeling just fine.”

“It’s actually feeling pretty cramped right now,” Hutch said, moving his hand down to unzip his shorts before Starsky could. “I still have the jock on.”

Starsky stared, and rubbed his own cock in sympathy for what Hutch’s must be feeling. “Why the hell did you start feelin’ sexy when you still had the jock on?”

“I can’t help when I start to feel sexy! Can you?”

“No, but I don’t wear jocks, either!”

“It’s your fault,” Hutch said.

“My fault? Wanna explain that?”

“Absolutely. When you’re eating something you love, you eat it like you’re gonna come. Moaning and licking your fingers and your eyes get huge.”

“It was salami, Hutch, salami!” Hutch knew he loved salami, so of course he might moan a little in appreciation. “And my eyes don’t get huge when I come!”

“Huge,” Hutch said again. “Enormous.”

“Yeah?” Starsky was a little shocked at that. He always thought his eyes were closed when he came. “So, my huge, enormous, gonna-come-eyes, and salami lickin’ fingers tightened your jock?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“We should get it off you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Starsky grinned, and knew his grin was bigger than his eyes could ever be. Things were starting to get even better. He managed one solitary, cautionary question, just to be a caring partner. “Your foot and ankle are gonna be okay if we do this?”

“I don’t need my foot to have sex, I just need you. God, I want you.” Hutch grabbed Starsky’s shoulder and pushed himself up on his good leg. “And I want this jock off!”

Starsky got to his feet slowly in order to not throw Hutch’s balance off since his partner was still clutching his shoulder. “Okay, I hear ya, but you should have let me get up first. Just stand still while I grab your crutches.”

“I don’t wanna use the crutches on my way to have sex.”

“Hutch, if you make me carry you to bed I’ll throw my back out and you won’t get any sex.”

“And then the jock will kill me,” Hutch said, looking a little scared.

“More’n likely, so be a good boy and use your crutches so we can both live long enough to get some relief.”

Together they made their way to the bedroom, Starsky standing just behind Hutch to catch him if either the crutches or the killer jock slipped. Once they reached the bed, Hutch sat down and knocked the crutches out of the way. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that too, then looked down at his open fly. “I should have taken my shorts off while I was still standing.”

Starsky took his own shirt off, and grinned. “Just stay down, I’ll take care of that for you.” Starsky went to Hutch and gave him a soft, sweet kiss before pushing him back against the pillows on the unmade bed. He lifted the injured leg onto the bed first, slowly and carefully, while Hutch stretched and got his other leg up. “The shorts will be the easy part.” Starsky slid the no longer pristine white shorts down and off. “I might need scissors for the jock.”

“Um, no, thanks.” Hutch put his hand under the waist band and raised the tight material. “I don’t allow sharp instruments in this area.” He started to pull and roll the jock down. “I can do this…as long as it doesn’t snap back.”

Starsky watched, both fascinated and a little intimidated by the process. He was ready to help, but that damn thing was so tight it was probably better if Hutch got it off his cock and balls before he added his hands to the mix. “You okay there, partner?”

“Yeah, uh-huh…there…” Hutch was both speaking and moaning. “…yeah, there, I did it.”

“Congratulations!” Starsky eyed Hutch’s freed cock with delight. “You got it to your hips!”

“You do the rest,” Hutch asked. “Please?”

“Oh, yeah.” Starsky did his own rolling and pulling until he had Hutch completely bare. “That’s got to be better, huh?”

“You’ve no idea… now you, get naked.”

Starsky was hard, but there was no confining material to impede his undressing, and only one item to take off. He dropped his cut-offs and let Hutch get a good look.

“You weren’t wearing underwear!”

“I was in a hurry to leave this morning.” Starsky gave his cock a nice pull. “I look good without underwear, huh?”

“Well, yeah, but we were at a hospital and a country club and you were half-dressed. Bare assed, I mean.”

“No one knew I wasn’t wearing underwear, Detective, including you.” Starsky crawled into bed. “And your ass was bare, too.”

“But you knew my ass was bare-”

“Sure did,” Starsky said, then got in close enough to nuzzle at Hutch’s neck. “It drove me wild.”

“And my cock was covered by both the jock and my shorts.”

“Hutch,” Starsky said using the most reasonable tone he could muster. “I wasn’t wearing invisible cut-offs, ya know? My cock wasn’t flapping naked in the breeze.”

“Hm, that would be hot to see.” Hutch started rubbing his hands all over Starsky’s chest, kissing his neck, rolling on top of him…”Ouch!”

“Hey! You said your foot was gonna be okay. Shit, we better stop.”

“Like hell!” Hutch yelled. “We’re not stopping! I just need to keep my foot still and then it’ll be fine.”

Starsky eyed him up and down. “On your back, quiet, nice and calm. I’ll do the work.”

Hutch gave him a look that should have caused a bolt of lightning to strike. “Not that I don’t want to do every little thing you say when you give me your orders, but I’d like to point out that if I stay very, very still and quiet, and very, very flat on my back, it’ll be hard to give you decent head.”

Starsky was rubbing at the thick red ridges at Hutch’s groin, left behind courtesy of the jock. “These look itchy… so, you’re in the mood to suck, huh?”

Hutch sat up on an elbow against orders. “I am. Wanna suck you slow and hard and get you ready to fuck me.” Hutch paused a moment. “You’ve got your eyes opened really wide. You’re not already close to coming when we’ve barely done anything, are you?”

“You’re either practicing to be the world’s biggest cock-tease, or you’re delusional. I can’t fuck you when you can’t move your leg.”

“Starsk, when I’m on the bottom, I hardly ever move my own legs. You move them for me, right over your shoulders. And we both know that’s your favorite position. Just do it slowly and we’ll have a swell time.”

“But-”

“No buts. Now come on, I’m hot for you. I feel like I’ve been hard for about a million years. Quit arguing with me and bring your delicious dick up to my mouth.” Hutch moved the pillows behind his head and scooted up on both elbows until he was in a half-reclining position. “I’m waiting.”

Starsky grinned. “Your wait is over, partner.” He straddled Hutch’s chest and stretched his arms to clasp the headboard. “Your wait is over, too.”

“Are you talking to your cock?” Hutch asked, while starting to guide it into his mouth.

“A little bit, it was twitching…oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Hutchhhh…” That was the last Starsky wanted to speak. Right now all he wanted was to give himself over to the delight his partner gave him each and every time they shared this intimacy. Hutch’s slick tongue stroked his cock so lovingly, while his lips sucked, the suction indenting his cheeks. Starsky stared down, imprinting the vision of Hutch giving him head once again in his brain, in his heart. It was so beautiful, it was so hot. Every nerve ending in his body was cracking with life and fire. He could feel it down his spine, in the muscles of his thighs…he was never more alive than when he was inside Hutch…his mouth…his ass. Inside Hutch. When Hutch’s hand found his dangling balls Starsky groaned as they were pulled and tugged, bounced and weighed. “Hutchhhh….”

Hutch started to make his special hum, his “ummm” and that made Starsky hotter. He started to hump Hutch’s mouth, gently, slowly, knowing Hutch would swallow him all the way if he asked. All the way. All the way. Deep inside that gorgeous mouth and throat. Deep inside, and then he’d come and Hutch would swallow… “Oh, God, Hutch, wait. Wait, babe, stop. You gotta stop.” With an effort Starsky released one hand so he could rub Hutch’s face, stroke around his lips where they were still joined. “Gotta stop. Gotta. If you don’t stop I’m gonna be done and then…there wouldn’t be…for you….”

Hutch let him slip out of his mouth slowly. “Ah, Starsk I could do that all day.” Hutch’s lips were bright red and slightly swollen, Starsky reached down to lick them.

“I can’t last all day…not the way you do me. You’ve got me on the edge now. The very fuckin’ edge.” Starsky eased off Hutch’s chest and tried to get his brain working again. “Okay, your turn now.”

“Now would be good, Starsk.”

Starsky got serious. He moved all but one pillow from under Hutch’s head and got him mostly flat again. One pillow went under his hips.

“Why a pillow? We never use a pillow there.” Hutch had his deep tone again, his passion-husky tone, and Starsky didn’t even have to look at his cock to know it was rock-hard and that time was getting short.

“I want the extra height and leverage this time,” Starsky said, working the cap off the tube of lubricant. He slathered it over his wet cock liberally. “Spread your legs, babe, nice and slow.”

When Hutch had his legs open, Starsky went to work, keeping his eyes locked with Hutch’s the whole time. He didn’t need his eyes to open Hutch, his fingers knew what to do, greasing Hutch’s passage and pulling at the tight opening until he felt it start to relax. Still, he stared at Hutch’s face, watching the transformation, soaking the magic in. This was it, this was everything. Hutch giving himself over, waiting…waiting. His beauty magnified by a hundred when Starsky prepared him for this act.

Starsky got into position, and carefully lifted Hutch’s legs over his shoulders and moved his ass further up on Starsky’s thighs. “This is it, we good?”

“We’re good,” Hutch answered, his eyes shining, his breath coming fast. “Do it, Starsk, do it now.”

“Okay.” Starsky sunk halfway in, smooth and easy, then watched for Hutch’s reaction.
“Yeah?”

“All the way, now, now!”

“All the way, all the way,” Starsky promised, then buried his cock right to the root. “All the way now. Gonna take you to the stars.” Starsky fucked Hutch the way he deserved to be fucked. Slowly, precisely, intensely. Groaning when Hutch squeezed him tighter, wanting to weep when Hutch sought his lips. Kissing, fucking, touching. All for Hutch, all for Hutch… “Oh, babe.”

Starsky wanted to make it last, but they were both so close. Still, he tried, slowing his hips, stopping once or twice just to lean down for a kiss. To press their foreheads close. Then pumping hard again, feeling so alive. Feeling ten feet tall.

When Hutch started panting with real gusto, he slowed again, slowed to watch Hutch pull and rub his own cock until it burst, spurting on his belly, droplets on his chest. Listening for that deep moan. “God, Hutch.” Starsky sped up again, seeking that release, that incredible release…”There, there, oh, man….” He collapsed on both elbows while his cock finished spurting inside Hutch. “Oh, man.” That was all he could get out for a few seconds, or was it minutes? He heard Hutch’s breathing start to slow back down, but Starsky was still breathing fast. “You?…yeah?”

Hutch laughed and ran his hands through Starsky’s curls. “You’re so eloquent after you come, Starsk.”

“All I wanna know is, were my eyes open?” Starsky eased both of Hutch’s legs off his shoulders, and moved his hips a little to make sure his cock was soft enough to slip out.

“Wide as saucers.” Hutch stretched and yawned. “Was that good, or was that good?”

“That was incredible. I think I saw stars. Did you get there?” Starsky asked as he pulled his cock free from the warm space that had loved it so well.

“Got there and back. I’m pretty sure you had me moaning.”

“Yeah, you were moaning. And earlier you were doing your humming thing.”

“I guess I’m pretty musical in bed, huh?”

“Very.” Starsky fingered the damp curls at Hutch’s crotch. “Your ankle okay?”

“My ankle? Well, it got bounced around some, but trust me, I didn’t give a damn. I promise, it’s fine. The rest of me is destroyed, but my ankle’s fine.”

“Good.” Starsky reached over for the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a couple of hand towels. He rubbed at his crotch and then tossed the towel aside, taking the other one and wiping at Hutch’s belly, then his ass and cock. “How about we catch a nap now and shower later?”

“That sounds good to me,” Hutch said while he moved his head to Starsky’s chest. Hey, Starsk?”

“What?” Starsky was settling the sheet over them both.

“If I hadn’t hurt my ankle, what do you think the score would have been on the third game?”

“You probably would have creamed him, but the only score I care about is the one right here.”

“You’re keeping score on us?”

“Uh-huh. Right now we’re tied, love-all.”

“That’s a good score.”

“The best.”

 

The End