Muscle Therapy

The room is really nice and welcoming. The walls are painted a lovely shade of blue, soothing to the eye. The smell of warm vanilla permeates the air, which combined with the blue color and soft music that is playing, makes Starsky feel safe and relaxed.

He is looking around the room as he waits for the massage therapist. There is a sideboard filled with various bottles of oil and lotions and the massage table is wide enough and looks comfortable. He chuckles at the headrest, it’s one of those cushion things that look like a horse shoe or half a donut if you’re food inclined – and Starsky certainly is – designed to support your neck when you’re lying on your back and cradle your face when you’re lying on your stomach. It’s one of those things that strike him as really funny.

The heat is on making the room pleasantly warm. He figures he won’t have a problem removing his clothes, feeling cold and getting chills while you’re supposed to relax and let someone work on your sore muscles is really off putting.

He notices the lights are turned down low – adding to the relaxation – and just as his attention wanders to the potted plants artfully arranged in the space, the door opens and the most gorgeous man Starsky has ever seen walks in. If he is a man, that is. He looks more like a Greek god. Apollo, maybe.

He’s all long limbs, shiny blond white hair and big blue eyes, the color of the sky on a clear summer’s day. He’s wearing a white vest which leaves his arms bare to show their lean muscles and a pair of very small – and very tight – red shorts accentuating legs that go on forever.

Starsky knows he’s staring, he can’t help it. His mouth isn’t hanging open at least, so that’s something. Bonus points for not drooling, either. Then the guy smiles and Starsky thinks that maybe he’s wandered through a portal and somehow ended up in Heaven because that smile is positively angelic.

“Hi!” the Greek god/angel hybrid says and oh, that voice. That voice is doing things to him.

He manages to open his mouth and form actual words. “Hey, how are you doing? I, uh, have an appointment with Ken Hutchinson?” He’s not sure why his voice makes it into a question right at the end but he didn’t squeak or stutter so there’s that.

“Yeah, that’s me. Call me Hutch. And you are David Starsky, my three o’clock appointment. Nice to meet you.”

Hutch offers his hand and Starsky shakes it. It’s warm and soft and strong with a firm grip and Starsky’s mind is already headed for the gutter.

“Likewise. And you can call me Starsky.”

“Excellent. What can I do for you today, Starsky?”

“Hopefully you can help me with the pain I’m experiencing. I have this lower back problem that I hope we can rub out and also my thighs.” He explains while touching the problem areas.

“Turn around, let me take a look…”

Starsky turns and Hutch raises the hem of his t-shirt, feeling around the area. “Yeah, it does look a bit tense there. What else do you need me to take care of for you, you mentioned your thighs?”

Starsky thinks there are lots of things he wouldn’t mind letting Hutch take care of for him but out loud he says, “Yeah I’ve been doing a lot of running and I’m getting major thigh grief. I’m wondering if you can fix that too?”

Hutch feels the muscle with his fingertips. “So basically you just want from the waist down.”

“Yeah, lower back, thighs and if we could do my back a bit that would be fine too.”

“Sure. Tell you what, since it’s your first time here I’ll throw in a full body massage as a welcome.”

“That’s great, thank you!”

“Alright, let’s start. Get your shoes off, your shirt as well and jump on the table.”

Starsky takes his shoes and socks off and puts them close to the wall, out of the way. He takes his shirt off next, folds it and places it on the chair in the corner.

“Do I lie facedown?”

“Yeah. Get comfortable and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Wonderful.”

Starsky lies on his stomach, lets his arms rest by his sides and places his face on the cushion rest. He snorts.

“Something funny?” Hutch asks, a half smile forming on his lips.

“It’s the face holder, I just find it funny.” Starsky explains. He can hear Hutch somewhere behind him sifting through the bottles.

“So how long have you been doing this for?”

“A couple of years now. There are a lot of people who need massage therapy and I really like helping them.”

“You must be really good, you came highly recommended.”

“Oh, that’s nice to hear. May I ask who recommended me to you?”

Starsky can hear Hutch rubbing his hands, a sort of slick, wet sound indicating he’s warming up the oil he’s going to use on him, spreading it evenly on his palms at the same time.

“My captain, Harold Dobey. He says you are a miracle worker.”

“Captain Dobey! He’s one of my best clients, a wonderful man. So, you’re a police officer?”

“Yeah, a detective. And probably Dobey’s son by now!” Starsky chuckles.

“You too? I think I’m part of the family myself!” Hutch’s tone is equally fond and amused.

“I think Cap is going around adopting people he likes. He’s a lovely man and he takes us strays in.”

They share a quiet laugh, then Hutch is next to him explaining what he’s going to do.

“OK. I’ll start at the core, focus on the problem areas and then move out to the extremities. A full body massage to relieve all the tension and work out the knots as I encounter them. This being a muscle therapy massage means I will apply quite a bit of pressure. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes,” Starsky says slowly. “I can take pressure, that’s why I’m here after all. I need it to be effective so do what you have to.”

“Alright. If anything feels too uncomfortable, too much in any way, you let me know.”

Starsky hums his agreement and seconds before Hutch’s hands touch him he realizes his body is vibrating with excitement. He wants those hands on him, wonders how they will feel on his skin. Then he gets what he wants.

The magic hands land on the small of his back and start massaging. They are deliciously strong and his body tingles pleasantly as his mind is focusing on how warm they are and how easily they glide.

Hutch really knows what he’s doing which, of course he does. His hands apply upward pressure on the outer sides of the spine. Starting from the lower back he presses firmly with his entire hands toward the middle back, careful to avoid the spine and hip bones. Starsky’s muscles immediately start to loosen.

Then Hutch starts using circular pressure with the heels of his hands, near Starsky ‘s hips. Moving them outward and upward again and again.

Starsky is melting. Everything is loosening up nicely and he suspects he will turn into a puddle of goo that Hutch will have to mop up from the floor. Then the thumbs and fingers join in the fun and oh boy, Apollo there really has magic hands.

The thumbs make slow strokes from the middle back towards his hips. The fingers are dancing on his skin, lifting the muscles and Starsky idly wonders how those expert fingers would handle other parts of his anatomy. Dangerous kind of thinking as he feels his cock twitching with interest.

“How does this feel?” Hutch interrupts the naughty thoughts before they form into something more concrete.

“Feels absolutely fantastic.”

The hands move on his upper back, finding tight knots on Starsky’s shoulders and working them out effortlessly. Down the back again, all the way to the small of the back. Hot fingers grazing the waistband of Starsky’s shorts and going just a little under it, touching the top of his ass.

Starsky feels heat pooling in his lower belly.

Hutch repeats the move a couple of times, then withdraws his hands and says, “I’m going to do the legs now, I’m going to start from the top and move all the way down.”

“Yeah, alright.” Starsky feels a little disappointed.

Hutch pours more oil, warms it between his palms and starts massaging Starsky’s thighs. Slow movements up the leg, the fingers spreading and lifting the muscles, all the way to the top where the fingers again go under Starsky’s shorts and lightly press at the flesh there.

Starsky’s breath hitches. Desire is coiling tightly deep in his core and he thinks he’ll go insane if this goes on for long.

Then Hutch’s hand stays high on his thigh and he says in a voice that sounds all kinds of smoky, “I’m going to have to take your shorts off, okay? They’re in the way and I don’t want to get oil on them.”

Starsky’s cock jumps and starts filling up. He’s wearing a jockstrap underneath and the thought of Hutch seeing it is letting a few hundred butterflies loose in his stomach. “Yeah, sure.”

Hutch gets a hold of the garment’s waistband and slowly peels it off Starsky. He throws it on the chair and stares at the royal blue jockstrap and the, admittingly, divine ass that it supports.

“Nice jock,” he says in a husky voice.

“Thanks. My girlfriend got it for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she has good taste in clothes.”

“And in men, obviously.”

Starsky feels Hutch devouring him with his eyes. And he’s openly flirting with him. Fuck. He’s hard.

“It goes with your eyes. They’re equally striking,” Hutch continues as he goes back to massaging the thighs and legs with long, gentle, sensual strokes.

Starsky is considering whether thanking him is going to sound stupid when Hutch moves down to the foot and Starsky is impressed that he knows exactly how to handle that part, he was expecting it to tickle but his reflex is never triggered and it actually feels wonderful.

Starsky melts into the table under Hutch’s expert hands. He’s light and heavy, sinking to the floor and floating in the sky, energized and so relaxed he’s sleepy. Who says you can’t have a huge hard on while reduced to putty at the same time?

Hutch moves to the other leg and does that one too.

“You have strong ankles,” he says rubbing them gently. “Strong legs, too. You are in excellent shape.”

Starsky catches himself before he says, “You too!” He doesn’t want to say weird stuff and make the atmosphere awkward. It’s enough that he has a full erection. He’s glad he’s lying on it, even though it’s a little uncomfortable. Lying on his back and having Little Davey stand at attention wouldn’t let him enjoy this properly.

“I’m going to do your glutes now, alright?” Hutch announces and Starsky’s self discipline goes out the window. Glutes. Hutch is going to do his ass. Oohhh, and what a delicious double entendre that makes!

Starsky’s breathing is shaky. “Yeah, alright,” he manages to half whisper and congratulates himself on not groaning. He holds his breath without realizing it while Hutch starts kneading his globes, up and down and back again.

His hands go underneath the straps of the jock, pulling the cheeks apart. Fondling. Squeezing. Thumbs sliding in between the cheeks, almost caressing his hole. Oil gets everywhere and Starsky can feel it pooling on his rim. It makes him want to explode. He wants those clever fingers to rub him there, stroke his hole, dip inside. It’s maddening.

As if sensing the condition he’s in, Hutch moves to the leg again, doing the calf. Returning after a minute, thumbs going into the cleft once more, palms skimming the balls.

“Sadistic bastard!” Starsky thinks and clenches his teeth to trap a whine inside.

Hutch’s fingers massage one side of his cleft. So close to the center of where he wants them but staying far away. Starsky struggles to lift his head, looks over his shoulder and asks, “Is that a normal part of the massage?”

Hutch looks him dead in the eye. “This? Yeah, just getting the inner side of the glute there. It’s called trigger pointing. It activates the body’s natural healing process.”

“Oh, is that what it does? Okay, good!”

“Does it feel uncomfortable?” Hutch purrs while going about his stroking and caressing, a thumb lightly pressing his perineum.

“No, no,” Starsky breathlessly groans, “I’m just not used to it.”

Starsky aches with want, need and desire. He’s starting to doubt if he will get out of this session alive.

The sadistic therapist leaves his ass (“Wait, come back!” Starsky wails in his head) and goes for the foot yet again. He holds it against himself to keep it steady and Starsky suddenly goes very still as he feels a hard shaft touching the side of his foot. Hutch is hard as a rock and does his weapon pack a punch!

Hutch moves to the other side, takes Starsky’s other foot, sits on the table and puts it on his lap. Straight on his dick actually and as he massages the sole, the foot in turn rubs on him. Starsky wants to scream.

The arms and hands come next and as Hutch does his fingers, Starsky can barely keep from turning his hand and palming Hutch’s cock. He tries to focus on the oil’s scent to center himself. It’s a lovely smell of sweet almond and what he thinks is chamomile.

Hutch has moved in front of him, massaging the back of his neck going all the way up into his hair and down towards his shoulders. More like stroking in a very sensual way, actually. His fingers are caressing Starsky’s locks.

“Your hair is beautiful. And so soft.”

Starsky exhales loudly.

“Are you alright? Is this too much?” Hutch asks looking down into the lush curly hair.

“No, it’s just… I’ve never had a sports massage before so I’m not sure what to expect.” Starsky is really struggling to speak, breathe and think. It’s like he’s losing control of his body and brain. And Hutch, the sadistic bastard, is hard as a rock and not the least bit flustered. It’s not fair!

“Well, tell me if you want anything particular done. I’ll just keep to the basic stuff for now and we’ll take it from there,” Hutch croons while his slick hands continue their slow, lingering slide.

The blissful, worked up, hot and bothered pile of goo that is Starsky manages to form one thought and turn it into a word.

“Okay.”

The only thing on his mind is how those fingers would feel on his cock, stroking it from base to tip. Long, languorous movements. Slick with oil.

He feels Hutch’s hands descending his back, going under the jock straps and kneading his ass cheeks.

Hutch moves to the back again, climbs on the table and straddles Starsky’s thighs.

“Might be easier to take these off,” he says holding the straps. Starsky just makes a choking sound that could be a whine.

“Yeah, the straps are actually getting in the way,” Hutch goes on as if Starsky had actually spoken.

“Sure, you know best,” Starsky’s voice is a whisper at this point.

Hutch moves back and takes the jockstrap off.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

Starsky nods as much as he can and gives a thumbs up. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Hutch hums and goes back to rubbing. As he stretches over Starsky to get up his back, the front of his shorts slides on Starsky’s ass. Starsky moans low feeling Hutch’s clothed hard cock rubbing back and forth on his skin. Starsky’s entire body is one erogenous zone. He needs to compose himself otherwise he’s going to come, while lying here with just the pressure of his own weight on his aching cock.

Hutch steps down from the table and lightly pats Starsky on the ass. “How about turning over?”

Starsky is dizzy. He moves to turn without thinking and comes face to face with Hutch’s impressive erection. It makes his mouth water. Meanwhile, his own leaking cock is in full view in all its glory.

“Wow! Warn a man. I could have lost an eye!” Starsky says, only half joking.

“Sorry.” Hutch looks anything but. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect…”

“I think that makes two of us.”

“Is that all for me?”

“Depends. You want it?”

Starsky licks his lips. He looks up at Hutch, smiling impishly.

“How rude would I be to turn down such a treat?”

Hutch’s knuckles caress Starsky’s cheek and then his fingers run through his hair to the back, to gently cup his head. His right hand touches Starsky’s cock, slides upwards, caresses the length of his body. Starsky half sits and slides one hand to cup Hutch’s ass while the other palms his cock through the fabric.

Hutch lowers his head, Starsky stretches his up, they meet in the middle and look into each other’s eyes before finally kissing. They both moan softly. They kiss slow. Gradually the kiss deepens and their mouths open to make room for tongues that want to explore and play.

Hutch circles his fingers around the base of Starsky’s cock. Starsky caresses his waist and stomach. He looks up at him. He pulls the shorts and underwear down to release his prize. Makes a noise of admiration and dips his head. He kisses the head and darts his tongue out to get a taste of Hutch’s essence. Then he opens his mouth and lets the head slide in, swirling his tongue around it. Hutch is holding his head, stroking his hair, supporting him. His other hand strokes Starsky’s cock, the thumb slowly going over the slit, mixing the precome with the oil in his hands.

Starsky starts sucking him and after a few seconds hutch bends down and starts sucking Starsky too. After all, reciprocating is the polite thing to do. Starsky stops, momentarily overwhelmed and just watches Hutch swallowing him. He moans, then resumes his own sucking. The position is awkward for both of them but neither one cares. Hutch licks Starsky’s cock from base to tip, tongues the vein that runs its length, pays special attention to the frenulum, then swallows as much of it as he can and starts bobbing his head.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are moans, sighs and obscene slurping, sucking noises.

Hutch stands up first and gently pulls on Starsky’s hair to dislodge him from his cock. Starsky doesn’t want to let go.

“Hey, you’re going to be sore doubled up like that. I want you to feel good, not hurt yourself. Come on, lie down and let me take care of you.”

Starsky pulls him down for a kiss and then he lies on his back while Hutch climbs on the table, lies between Starsky’s legs and starts stroking him with one hand while his mouth is busy licking and carefully sucking his balls. Starsky watches him and it is the sexiest thing he has ever seen. He gasps and tries to regulate his breathing. That effort goes down the drain when Hutch looks at him and taps the cock he’s holding on his tongue. Repeatedly.

Starsky moans loudly and immediately claps his hand over his mouth. God, this man is going to kill him!

Hutch gets up on his knees, crawls over Starsky’ body moving like a panther, grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away from his mouth.

“None of that,” he says in a voice that drips with sex. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. You’re loud and I love it. I want you to give me all your sounds. It’s just you and me here. You’re my last appointment so no one else is coming. I’m the only one who can hear you and I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me!” Starsky declares and Hutch kisses him deeply. They end up breathing heavily against each other’s mouth, sharing their breaths, foreheads pressed together.

Hutch aligns their cocks and slowly drags his own over Starsky’s. The oil makes everything slippery, it feels heavenly. Starsky grabs both their cocks and Hutch slides his up and down, fucking into Starsky’s fist. Starsky holds his waist, pulling Hutch towards him. They moan and gasp and groan. They kiss and kiss, hungrily, ravenously. Starsky’s free hand roams Hutch’s body.

Hutch is kissing his neck and lightning courses through Starsky. His skin burns. Hutch moves south and flicks his tongue over a pert nipple. Starsky howls. Hutch smiles wickedly and does it again. He alternates between licking and sucking and before turning his attention to the other one, he lightly grazes his teeth over it. Starsky is a panting, moaning, writhing mess.

“I love how responsive you are.” Hutch says in a low, hungry voice. “It makes me want to devour you whole.”

“I sure hope you will,” Starsky half moans before he gets a hold of both their cocks and starts stroking them again while they kiss. Hutch is lying on top of him and they hold each other, Starsky’s other hand grabbing Hutch’s ass, squeezing, fondling, urging him on as they both fuck their hard dicks against each other.

Hutch gets back on his knees. He looks down on Starsky and the sight is overwhelming. “You’re so sexy,” he breathes.

“Says Apollo, the sun god,” Starsky replies running his fingers over Hutch’s abs.

Hutch smiles his angelic smile and bends to kiss a trail down Starsky’s stomach.

“You look incredible,” he breathes.

“So do you.”

“I’m not going to be able to get enough of you.”

“Then we’re definitely scheduling another appointment. This is the best massage I’ve ever had! I want mo- Oh my God!” Starsky shouts as Hutch lifts both his legs, kisses his balls and licks a long stripe up his cock.

Hutch smiles an evil smile. This angel is certainly part demon. He dips his head, kisses and licks the perineum, litters kisses on the back of his thighs, on the balls and on Starsky’s tight hole.

Starsky is overwhelmed. His arm is over his eyes, he’s panting. There’s not enough oxygen in the room. “So good. It feels so good,” he groans.

A finger begins to stroke up and down his cleft, then is joined by another. They pay special attention to the ring of muscle, sensually rubbing and caressing. They drive Starsky insane.

The fingers withdraw and they are replaced by a thumb that expertly circles the fluttering hole. It catches on the muscle and gently pulls at it. Starsky is on the verge of tears, it feels incredible and not nearly enough.

The tip of the thumb dips inside and Starsky lets out a long whine. There’s so much oil and he’s so relaxed and pliant, there’s no resistance whatsoever. The thumb keeps going in and out, pulling downwards, rubbing in circles. Starsky feels his brain leaking out of his cock mixed in with the precome that is pooling on his belly.

“P-plea-se… Huu-utch…” his breath is hitching, his speech slurring. The room is filled with scorching expectations.

One of Hutch’s long fingers slips inside like it belongs there. A second joins it with ease. The tips graze Starsky’s prostate and he moans long and loud.

“You’re so fucking ready for me,” Hutch growls.

Starsky is lost. “Yes… fucking… Fuck me. I need you inside me.”

Hutch pulls Starsky’s left leg over his shoulder and lines himself up. He slides the head of his cock up and down the rim before slowly starting to penetrate it, inch by inch. His cock disappears as Starsky’s ass swallows it like it’s starving for it. It’s the hottest thing Hutch has ever seen and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

When he’s fully sheathed, he checks on Starsky who seems to be on another plane of existence, his hips twitching beckoning Hutch to move.

Hutch does. He slowly fucks in and out of Starsky’s ass, long, sensual strokes which rub his prostate with every pass.

“It should be illegal to be this beautiful,” Hutch murmurs against Starsky’s lips.

“Says the man who looks like he walked out of my wet dream,” Starsky says breathlessly and plunges his tongue in Hutch’s mouth.

Hutch fucks him faster now. He’s put Starsky’s leg on his other shoulder to change the angle and Starsky is moaning so loud they must hear him all the way to New York. Hutch changes the pace again, holds the back of Starsky’s neck and grinds into him while sucking on his tongue. Starsky holds onto him for dear life.

“Shit, you really know how to fuck a man. You fuck like a pro.”

Hutch chuckles. “You bring the porn star out of me, baby. Besides, it’s your first time here. I don’t want you leaving disappointed. I have to make sure you’re getting the most thorough of massages. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Starsky’s laugh turns into a groan. His leg is on the table again and he spreads both of them as far as he can while Hutch fucks him in short bursts. He rotates his pelvis, slowing down then picking up the speed again. Hutch squeezes Starsky’s pecs, plays with his nipples. He uses his mouth and fingers on them. They’re very sensitive. Starsky wraps his legs around Hutch’s waist, lost in bliss.

“Mmmmm. Like that. Fuck my ass. Just like that. Ahhhhhh…”

“You are Sin on legs, you know that? The mouth on you!”

“You wanted to fuck my ass the moment you laid eyes on me, didn’t you?”

“I did. I wanted to bury my cock balls deep and never come out again. When I saw you in that jockstrap… Fuck, I almost creamed my shorts.”

“And you talk about my mouth!”

“Not my fault, your ass is a work of art… Now turn around, on your knees.”

Starsky gets on his knees, spreads his thighs as far as the bed allows, leans on his arms and curves his back. Hutch slides back into him, watching his cock go all the way in.

“You feel so good. Hot… tight… velvety smooth.” Hutch kisses between the shoulder blades, licks the shell of Starsky’s ear, bites the lobe, kisses the shoulder. Starts fucking faster, kissing and licking and lightly biting Starsky’s neck.

Starsky lies down, bends his knee and looks back over his shoulder to watch Hutch fuck him. It’s incredibly erotic. Hutch brings his own knee up, locks eyes with him and fucks him. Deep.

He alternates between slow and sensual and hard and fast. The room is filled with the sounds and smells of sex. Skin slapping on skin, the wet, indecent squelch of too much oil, filthy talk, heavy breathing, moaning. Their scents intermingle into a potent, heady aroma.

Hutch carefully slips out of Starsky and says, “Get up, I want to get deeper.”

Starsky shudders, his whole body twitching, his toes curling at Hutch’s words. His hole is fluttering, wanting to be filled to the brim again, stretched by that gorgeous, big cock.

He gets up and Hutch turns him to face the table. “Get your leg up on the table, make room for me.”

Starsky obeys and lets out a deep groan when Hutch pushes his cock back in and he feels it reaching impossibly deep. Hutch steadies his leg with one hand and winds the other around his chest before picking up speed and fucking Starsky good and hard.

“So deep, you’re so fucking deep… Fuck, yes.” Starsky is no slouch, he fucks back on Hutch’s cock, meeting him in the middle. “Fuck me deep, yes. Fuck me like you want your cock to come out my throat.”

“I’m going to fuck the come out of you. No touching your cock. Only I can do that. Now come here, sit on me.”

Hutch sits on the table and Starsky straddles him, his back to Hutch’s chest. He pulls one leg up, foot on the table and starts bouncing on Hutch’s cock. Hutch moans deeply, lies back on his elbows and fucks up, perfectly synchronizing his movements with Starsky’s.

Starsky turns diagonally a little, supports himself on his hands and the slight change in angle is enough to make him see stars. Hutch strokes his cock and huskily asks, “You think you can come untouched?”

Starsky whimpers and replies with a breathless, “Yes, keep working my ass like that.”

Hutch lets go of his cock, wraps his arms around Starsky, pulls him back and keeps the relentless rhythm. Starsky gasps, “I’m gonna come, keep fucking me, I’m gonna come.”

A few moments later he’s wailing as thick ropes of come shoot out of his cock, landing on his stomach, chest, even on his neck and Hutch’s hands. Bolts of lightning zoom up and down his body, his spine. His arms and legs tingle, his vision goes black and there’s a roaring sound in his ears. He comes and comes and he thinks he will pass out. Hutch fucks him through it and just as the last spurt finally comes out of Starsky, Hutch comes himself with a shout. He seems to come forever too and between holding Starsky who has gone boneless in his arms and trying not to lose consciousness from the body wrecking orgasm, it feels like he’s dying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later, after they’ve mostly come down from the high and regained most of their faculties, they lie on the table, limbs tangled. Their bodies slot together like they were made for each other.

“I’ve never come this hard or this much before. I thought I was going to die.” Starsky says in awe.

“Same. I thought I’d never stop coming. I was so hard I could pound nails!” Hutch says as he lovingly caresses Starsky’s skin.

“So, we’re definitely having a repeat session!” Starsky laughs.

“Absolutely! When are you free for your second appointment?”

“Oh, before we do this scenario again, can we do the yoga instructor one first?”

Hutch laughs again. “Of course we can. Anything my darling wants. But I never thought you’d want to do yoga.”

“I don’t. But I can’t wait to see you stick your ass up and out doing all those weird positions!”

“So you’ll just lie there and look pretty while I do all the hard work?”

“But of course! Besides, it’s for a good cause. And after we go through the basics, I’ll make it up to you by fucking you through the yoga mat. I’m going to be doing all the hard work, then.”

Hutch is really enjoying all of Starsky’s shenanigans.

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” He asks him. He always feels a tiny bit of worry for Starsky’s well being.

“I’m perfect! Speaking of which, I can’t believe you went ahead and actually gave me a real massage. I thought you’d just go through the motions but you were serious about it and now thanks to you my body feels incredible! Thank you.” Starsky kisses Hutch on his temple, his cheek, his nose.

“You’re welcome. I figured I could relieve some of that tension, you did have a couple of terrible knots in your muscles. And I’ve seen you massaging your lower back, sometimes without you even realizing it. Plus, you do a lot of running for real, your legs and feet needed some love.”

“Awwww, Hutch! You DO love me!!!” Starsky enthuses dramatically, batting his eyelashes.

Hutch snorts. “You just figured that out? Here I was thinking that me marrying you was a big tell.”

Starsky giggles happily. “I might have suspected something.”

“You want to go get a shower? It won’t feel good when all the fluids dry on you.”

“Nope, no, I’m not moving, no way! I don’t care how gross it’ll feel later, right now I want to bask in the afterglow. With you. You’re adorable.” He cups Hutch’s cheeks and smushes them together.

Hutch is so in love he might as well have hearts instead of eyes.

“I don’t mind being gross with you. It’s nothing a little water and soap won’t take care of. I’m not moving either. Our reservation is not for another couple of hours so plenty of time, no hurry.”

“Blondie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to propose to me again?”

“Maybe. I’m not telling you. You always get impatient but you have to wait to find out.”

“I just think it’s very romantic and great fun how we keep randomly proposing to each other even though we’re already married.”

“Yes, and to think we don’t like soapy scenes!”

They look at each other and burst out laughing.

“I love you, Blondie.”

“I love you more, my Davey.”

“Ooohh, you used my name. And in nickname form, to boot. You’re definitely proposing me tonight!”

“Starsky?”

“Yeeees?”

“Shut up!”

“One last thing, one last thing.”

“What?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my angel.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my heart.”

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