Number One

Part one of the Episode Series.

Missing slash scene from the pilot.

This is the first in a personal challenge I’ve given myself–try to find and write the slash scene in every episode.

“That sonofabitch!” Starsky roared loudly to his empty car. “Every freaking time I believe him and every freaking time he does this to me.” He attempted to follow the battered Ford just to get close enough to salute his partner with his middle finger, but a lumbering truck pulled out in front of him and proceeded to drive three miles an hour.

Starsky pulled over because he didn’t know where he wanted to go now, but he did know he wanted to fume some more. I did most of the paperwork for the miserable case when we got back to the station. I briefed Dobey and put up with his yelling. I contacted the DA’s office. Starsky chose to ignore the little memory that was prickling at him that while he was doing all those things, Hutch was doing the thing he hated the most–dealing with the morgue and the body they’d put there. Nope, he wanted to fume. Paid his stinkin’ gym bill again, for who knows how many times this year, and then he dangles buying me dinner and then bails on me! If he didn’t want to have dinner with me, his own partner, after we’d both almost been blown away, then he’s just a sonofabitch! And that chili is outstanding, too! Well, forget him!

Starsky took a few deep breaths, having got the worst of his anger, his justifiable anger, out of his system. He knew that no matter how much he sometimes wished he could forget about Hutch, it would never happen. Even when Hutch was being mean and sneaky like right now. Even when Hutch completely disregarded his feelings, like he was some Neanderthal who wasn’t enlightened enough, or sensitive enough, to know when a sonofabitch was insulting him. Nope, he could never forget him because somehow, right from the start, right from the academy, the stupid sonofabitch had climbed into his heart and took up permanent residence.

No longer fuming, but still angry and a little sad, Starsky decided he was in no mood for chili anymore, especially chili he’d have to eat alone, so he turned the car towards his apartment.

~*~*~

The hot shower he spent a long time in, and then some clean comfortable clothes helped mitigate his bad mood a little bit. Starsky decided he was going to make himself a sandwich, turn the TV on to something good, and spend no more time tonight thinking about his partner.

The contents of his refrigerator were pathetic even by Starsky’s standards, and he didn’t spend much time looking for the non-existent salami and cheese that he wanted on his sandwich, instead going to the cupboard for the peanut butter. He didn’t get to make the two needed steps, though, because there was a sharp knocking at his front door.

“Who is it?” Starsky yelled from the kitchen, in no mood to deal with a solicitor or a neighbor.

“Who do you think it is,” Hutch shouted back. “Open the door, my hands are full.”

What the hell? Starsky thought as he marched to the door and flung it open. “What the hell!”

“Hello to you, too,” Hutch said, brushing past him and heading toward the kitchen. He was carrying two brown paper bags. “That wasn’t a very friendly greeting.”

Starsky closed the front door. “I’m not feelin’ particularly friendly. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Making you dinner,” Hutch said calmly, unpacking his bags.

“Making me dinner?” Starsky felt his anger start to reach the fuming stage again. “You twisted sonofabitch, you left me on the road like a dog!”

Hutch had the unmitigated nerve to laugh. “You were in your beloved Torino, Starsk, not sitting on the side of the road.” He started opening cupboards and moving dishes to the counter.

“Might as well’ve been, for all you cared. How can you do that to me over and over again?”

“I don’t like chili,” Hutch said, as if that should have been all the reason needed in the world.

Starsky started to sputter but Hutch just kept on talking. “It hasn’t been over and over again. Maybe twice or three times? And anyway, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to buy you dinner; I just had to shop for it. And I wanted to give you time to burn off all that excess ‘end of a shitty case’ adrenaline, too, otherwise you might be too energetic on my dick.”

“Your dick?” Starsky managed to get out, wondering if sparks were flying out of his mouth along with the words. “You don’t think–you can’t possibly think I’m going anywhere near your dick tonight?”

“No?” Hutch asked in that still maddeningly calm tone of voice. “Huh, guess I misread your signals. Funny, though, you usually want a little action with me after bullets have been flying, plus we’ve been naked together quite a bit the last few days, but when I’m wrong I’m wrong.”

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong all right! I wouldn’t touch you tonight if you paid me!”

“No problem, Starsk. We’ll just have a nice dinner–I have shrimp cocktails here–and then I’ll get out of your hair and let you have a peaceful evening.” Hutch moved to the oven and turned it on. “I just have to preheat this so I can warm up the bread.”

While Starsky stared at his partner, he pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to heat up and then I can throw everything else together while the bread is warming. We’ll be eating soon.”

Starsky wanted to kill the smug sonofabitch. In two steps he was standing over him. “You’re such a smug sonofabitch!”

“Am I?” Hutch asked, flashing a toothy smile. “You know, for someone who doesn’t want to touch me tonight, you’re standing a little close.”

“I hate you right now,” Starsky said, then straddled Hutch’s legs and plopped down hard on his lap. “You make me crazy.”

“Or do I keep you sane?” Hutch asked, still smiling.

“Shut up.” Starsky put his hands on either side of Hutch’s head and then kissed him hard, finishing with a sharp nibble to his lower lip. “And don’t forget, I’m not going down on you.”

“Of course not,” Hutch said, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. “You’re not in the mood for any action. Cindy probably satisfied you really good the other night and it might be days before you’re in the mood again.”

Smug, lying sonofabitch. “You know that’s a damnable lie. When’ve I ever wanted to go days without when I don’t have to?”

“I don’t know, you don’t have to right now and you don’t want to… of course, you are about to turn twenty-nine. Maybe it’s just a natural slowing down of your libido?”

Starsky refused to rise to the bait, even as his cock was rising to the challenge. He made sure Hutch could feel his libido with a nice grind right where it counted. When Hutch let out a little hiss Starsky grinned. “Nothings slowin’ down here, partner.”

“Yeah, guess I can feel that,” Hutch said, sounding the tiniest bit short of breath. He lifted the hem of Starsky’s sweatshirt and ran his hands slowly up and down his chest. “I can feel a lot of things–like how good your nipples feel when I rub them. Like how hard your heart is beating now. You might not want to go down on me, but maybe I want to go down on you.”

“What’s the matter, didn’t what’s her name give you anything good enough to hold you a while?” Starsky taunted, unwilling to give in right this second.

“It was probably as acceptable as your scene with Cindy was,” Hutch said, then his tone lowered, became husky. “It’s always much more than acceptable with you, though.”

And Starsky knew that was the simple truth for both of them. Their illicit, far too infrequent, and always dangerous sex, was smoking hot. “Did you really give her your thingamajig?” he asked, not without a trace of jealousy. Not because he didn’t want them both to have plenty of sex with women for all kinds of reasons, but because it always hurt just a little that these faceless, nameless women could claim a part of Hutch that he never could. The part that was able to roam freely and openly in society with a what’s her name on his arm. “Did you?” he pressed.

“Had to, it was the fourth date,” Hutch answered. “No choice.”

“Did you want a choice?”

“Not really… Starsk….”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Please?”

And with that one word, filled with longing, filled with passion, hell, filled with love, all of the last traces of Starsky’s anger dissipated. There was nothing he would deny this man. Nothing he would deny himself. He could indulge now. He could gorge on their need for each other. “Absolutely. Right here and now.”

Starsky slid gracefully off of Hutch’s lap to the floor and pushed Hutch’s knees apart in almost one motion. “Take your shirt off. Then pull your zipper down while I watch.”

“In the chair?” Hutch asked, looking a little surprised and befuddled. “You don’t want to go to the bedroom?”

“The chair will do just fine for now,” Starsky said while pulling his sweatshirt off. He dropped it carelessly and gripped Hutch’s knees firmly. “Come on, lose the shirt.”

Hutch pulled the shirt over his head, tousling his hair and revealing taut nipples. “Okay, it’s off.”

“Nice,” Starsky said shortly. “Give me more.”

Hutch nodded and undid his belt and the top button on his pants. “You know, you could unzip me yourself.”

“I like to watch.”

“I know.” Hutch gave him a wink and started to work his zipper down. I noticed you not watching me at Tallman’s.”

“We were on duty. I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

“That’s not always–”

“Stop talking,” Starsky said, and reached for the cuffs of Hutch’s pants. “Lift your butt up a little.”

When Hutch had given him just enough room, he pulled the pants off of Hutch’s legs and tossed them aside. “Best legs in town,” he said appreciatively. “So long…” Starsky slid both hands up the interior of each of Hutch’s legs, pausing his left hand at the elastic band between thigh and crotch. He reached inside to stroke and tickle the skin, studiously avoiding Hutch’s cock which had grown too big to ignore for long. “Needy boy. Still wanna go down on me first, or should I just keep going?”

Hutch spread his legs impossibly wide, and plucked at his underwear helplessly, but he didn’t say a word.

“I got this,” Starsky said, and in one smooth pull the annoying underwear was off, and Hutch was gloriously nude. “So nice.”

“Get all the way naked, too,” Hutch whispered, reaching a hand down to stroke his swollen cock. “Wanna see you.”

Starsky batted Hutch’s hand away and bent his head down low so he could breathe Hutch in. He gripped the base of Hutch’s erection powerfully, so powerfully that Hutch moaned. “Are you sure you don’t want to feel me?” With that, Starsky used his tongue on the head of Hutch’s dick, light and teasing, wanting to make his partner writhe a little before he really got down to business.

And even if there were still some mysteries to be discovered about this man, he knew how to make his cock dance to Starsky’s tune.

Once his tongue had made everything wet, Hutch released some pre-come and the taste and smell drove him wild. He went down on Hutch like it was the first time–all raw, rough need–and sucked his partner into oblivion, stopping only when he felt his hair being pulled by Hutch’s none too gentle hand.

“Gonna come,” Hutch choked out. “Now, gonna come.”

Starsky pulled his mouth away. “Not yet. Get on the floor, on your back.”

“Wha?” Hutch mumbled, his vocabulary seemingly reduced at the moment. “Floor?”

Starsky grabbed an arm and manhandled Hutch to the floor, ignoring his mumbled complaints. “There, stretch out and wait for me. Do not touch yourself!”

“You’re a sonofabitch,” Hutch said, making Starsky laugh out loud at his hurting partner. “Quit laughing and fix me.”

Starsky removed his jeans and underwear in record time, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock was free, and could spring and bounce as nature intended without causing him pain. “You can look now,” he said, giving himself a nice strong stroke for Hutch’s benefit. “It’s pretty damn good looking if I do say so myself.”

Hutch barely spared him a glance. “Gorgeous, now get the fuck down here and do something!”

That sounded desperate. Starsky wasted no more time. He laid down on top of his partner and spent just a second lining them up. He knew Hutch was going to go off fast, but that was okay. “You ready?”

“You sonofabitch!”

“Yeah, you’re nice and ready.” Starsky placed his hands on either side of Hutch and began to slowly rub their cocks together. “Feel me now? Feel this?” he asked, angling himself to stoke Hutch’s entire length. “Feel good?”

Hutch exploded as expected, giving off a guttural groan of pleasure, then every muscle in his body went lax. “Damn.”

“Hm, mm,” Starsky murmured, moving up a little to where the warm, wonderful lubricant Hutch had just provided him was waiting. This was one of his favorite intimacies, being able to slide in and out of the proof that he could please Hutch sexually. That he could make him come and beg for more.

When Starsky achieved his sweet release, he buried his face in Hutch’s sweaty neck and waited for his breathing to slow down. It was then that he noticed that Hutch’s hands had been on his back the whole time. “That was s’good,” he mumbled. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Hutch said. “Love this with you, even if I’m a mess after.”

Starsky touched the silky pool of their now combined ejaculate on Hutch’s belly. “Wanna stick the bread in the oven, and then take a shower together while it warms? Dinner is sounding pretty good now.” He got to his feet and reached a hand down for Hutch.

“That sounds like a plan, partner,” Hutch said as he got his feet under him. “You like shrimp cocktail.”

“I like chili, too,” Starsky said with a cocky grin, hoping to see Hutch’s finger of indignation wave his way.

He wasn’t disappointed. “Don’t start,” Hutch said. “I think I made it up to you.”

“Put your finger away. You made it up to me good. Really good.”

Together, they made their way to the oven and Hutch removed the bread from its paper sleeve. “I need a cookie sheet to put this on.”

“Then you should have brought one from home.”

Hutch sighed. “Fine, do you have any foil?”

“Middle drawer,” Starsky said, and then looked down at himself. “My dick looks limp and exhausted. Let me see yours.”

Hutch sighed again but turned slightly as he wrapped the bread in foil enabling Starsky to have his look. “Yours looks even more limp and exhausted than mine!”

“Probably a matter of opinion, Starsk.” The bread was finally in the oven.

“I think they look sad like this,” Starsky said. “Let’s see if we can fix them up some in the shower. Get them ready for round two after dinner.”

Hutch shook his head. “You’re insatiable.”

“Bet you won’t call me almost twenty-nine again!” Starsky laughed and grabbed Hutch’s hand as he led the way to the shower.

The next story in the series is Savage Thoughts.