Realization I & II

Table of Contents

Each partner spends a night alone and becomes aware of hidden revelations.

Originally published in the SHareCon 2008 zine.

Part I

“So when will ya get back?” he tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, after all it wasn’t his partner’s fault there had been a delay.

“I don’t know. There are a few things we need to sort out first. Dobey says it could be at least another day, maybe two.” The silence lasted a few moments before Hutch continued. “Look I’m sorry Starsk, I know how much you were looking forward to tonight. I’ll make it up to you I promise. As soon as I get back we’ll book that table at Pedros and …”

“Hey it’s okay,” Starsky interrupted. “I’m not your wife. You don’t have to make it up to me – I know how these things go down. I’m a cop too remember. The job comes first, right?”

“Yeah … okay … but I’m still gonna treat you to that meal.”

“Damned right! It’s taken me weeks to persuade you to try that new restaurant and I ain’t about to let you off that easy.”

“Guess I couldn’t get that lucky, huh? Well I’d better get back to the meet. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Same time, same place … Shweetheart.”

“Cute, Starsk, real cute … see ya.”

Starsky sat holding the receiver for a few moments listening to the hum of the phone line. Damn. He really had been looking forward to dinner at Pedros. The chance to spend some time with his partner, a rare occasion since Hutch had returned to duty almost 6 weeks ago. And even when Hutch had found the time to be with him, it had not been the same. He remembered the evenings they’d spent together in this apartment, the games of Monopoly (that he’d lost) and the beer drinking sessions that lasted well into the night. It would be a long time before he would be fit enough to cope with that kind of physical exertion. Since the shooting he’d been lucky to make it past 10 o’clock without feeling completely drained the next morning. Not that Hutch would ever let him stay up that late “Doctor’s orders – you’ve gotta get your beauty sleep, Gordo.”

Well if he wasn’t going out then he’d enjoy a relaxing evening at home instead. Start with a bath – ease out some tension – then a cup of hot chocolate while he read a few more chapters of that new book.

He eased himself slowly into the hot bath, relishing the warmth of the water as it lapped over aching muscles. Closing his eyes, he immersed himself further until the water lapped around his neck and soaked the bottom of his hair. He picked up the soap, lathered up the sponge and began to wash – a slow process despite the weeks of physiotherapy. As he moved the sponge closer to his cock he felt it begin to rise in anticipation of his touch. The usual thoughts entered his head – the usual fantasy that always helped him to jerk off.

She was touching him again. Caressing his cock with her tongue. Teasing it with her lips. He couldn’t remember where her face had come from. He was certain that she wasn’t the memory of a real encounter; certain that her image must have emerged from the centerfold of some porn magazine. Wherever she sprang from she’d served him well over the years. And she was there for him now as he placed his hand around the shaft of his cock and began the gentle upward strokes.

Placing his other hand around his balls he began to roll them between his fingers, gently squeezing the soft tissue. He had found the rhythm now – both hands moved in time as he sank into the arms of his imaginary lover, relishing the feeling of euphoria that swept over his body. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow as he continued to caress his cock while the blonde of his dreams worked in his mind. His hand wrapped tighter around the shaft and for an instant he awoke to reality as he remembered this was just a fantasy, that the hands slowly jerking him off were his. She would not have hands like this. Hers would be small and delicate and would not be strong enough to massage away the aches and pains of his healing muscles. Only one pair of hands had been capable of that; had been strong enough to ease away the tightness that had regularly formed around his back and chest as his body had begun the slow process of recovery. He remembered the last time they had massaged him, the last time they had forced away the tension from his tired body. And suddenly he was plunged back into his fantasy world as he once again imagined that the hands that were stroking his cock and balls were no longer his – they belonged to Hutch.

That thought alone forced a moan from his lips. He should not even be thinking this, should not be allowing his body to react to the images that now danced in his mind. But he could not stop it, could not stop the most erotic feelings he had ever experienced from taking over. He felt himself float away as he watched the hands move across his body, exploring his very being. They paused over his nipples and gently caressed them into life. He moaned softly at the touch, licked his lips as his nipples became hard. God, so hard – never this hard before. He was overwhelmed by the feeling, by the reaction of his body to another man’s touch, to his partner’s touch. He thrust his body forward and felt the warm water rush over him; imagined Hutch’s touch rush over him. Arching his back he forced himself upwards as a sense of urgency overcame him. He had to have those hands wrapped around his cock once more, had to feel them close around him. In this one single movement he was presenting himself to this man, relinquishing his body and soul forever for the sake of one single touch. And when it happened, when he finally imagined Hutch had taken his cock firmly in his hands, he could hold on no longer. He came. Came with a force he had not experienced before either here in his fantasy world or in the real world where his sex life had been long and fruitful.

Completely spent he lay in the warm water and couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop his body remembering the touch of those two strong hands; couldn’t stop his mind remembering that in his fantasy they had belonged to Hutch.

And at that moment he knew that his feelings for his partner would never be the same again.

Just as he knew that life would never be the same again!

Part II

He leant against the wall relishing the hot, steaming water that washed over his body. It felt good. It eased away the aches and pains of a long day spent with people he didn’t want to be with, in a place where he didn’t want to be. Closing his eyes he relaxed into the constant stream, allowing it to soak his hair and run down his body, refreshing every tired muscle. Finally he turned off the faucet and stood awhile, allowing the excess water to run off before stepping out of the shower.

Wrapping a towel around his waist he used another to mop away the droplets from his face and neck – at least now he felt more human. He looked at the clock on the bedside cabinet – 9 o’clock. Right about the time he and his partner would have been leaving that Mexican restaurant and heading back home. He contemplated phoning Starsky, but there was every possibility his friend would be asleep and he didn’t want to disturb him.

Unraveling himself from the damp towel he sat down on the bed and maneuvered himself into the middle. Pulling up a couple of pillows behind himself he leant against the headboard and switched on the TV. As he suspected there was nothing showing that was of particular interest and he was in no mood for the second rate porn movie he would have to pay to watch. Might as well get some sleep then, after all he wanted an early start; if he could make enough progress on the case he might be able to make it home in time to be with Starsky tomorrow night.

Switching off the light he eased his naked body under the crisp, white sheets and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him. But despite his weariness he found it difficult to relax; there were just too many things to think about. The case was winding up, that much was true, but it had taken a long time to get there and Hutch began to wonder if that was because it was more complex than usual. Or was it was because this had been the first case he’d worked on alone since Gunther.

Gunther. Damn. In remembering that name other memories came flooding back; Starsky’s bullet ridden body lying still – so still – on the ground; the desperation of the hospital staff as they battled to save his dying partner; the long weeks of painful recuperation as Starsky fought his way back to physical (and mental) fitness.

Hutch rolled over in frustration – “Carry on thinking like this, Hutchinson, and you’ll never get to sleep.” He needed something to take his mind off things, and knew exactly what that something was; knew just what to do to forget. Since childhood he had always found comfort this way, even when he was much too young to realize just what it was that he was doing. Rolling over onto his stomach he began to rock gently against the bed, feeling the tug of the sheet on his cock. Soon he was slowly moving – up and down – to a silent rhythm, massaging himself against the firm mattress. He moaned quietly as his cock grew harder, causing his body to tremble at the sensation and his mind to wander into a fantasy world. Once there he relaxed into the dream as he imagined himself sinking into the wet folds of the lover beneath him.

He gently caressed her breasts and was turned on by her response to his touch – he had always been a generous lover, finding enjoyment from pleasing others. He moved his hands further down her body, exploring the curvature of her hips, teasing with his fingers. Gripping the pillow he pushed down in long, hard strokes against the bed – man, this felt good! Concentrating once more on his hands, he returned to images of his fantasy lover as he massaged the body beneath him, following the path of his hands in his mind as they traversed upwards to a mop of dark, curly hair. It surprised him – he’d only ever dreamt about fucking blondes before – so where had she sprung from? He continued to move his body against the sweat soaked sheet as he looked more closely at his imaginary lover – at the tight, dark curls, the piercing blue eyes and the strong, broad shoulders that were crisscrossed by newly formed scars. And suddenly he had a name – Starsky. He murmured the name into the pillow and trembled at the realization that he was “fantasy-fucking” his partner.

He licked away the beads of perspiration that had formed above his lip and imagined that the moisture he had tasted belonged to Starsky. And in that one single moment he ceased to be aware of anything else around him as he lost control of his body, surrendering it to the most erotic fantasy he had ever experienced. No longer using a nameless image to jerk off to, he was making love to the man who was closer to him than any brother – to the man he loved more than life itself.

He could smell the aroma that was Starsky – could taste it in the air. Imagining the tight, muscular body he pushed down harder onto the sheet and visualized his partner writhing with pleasure beneath him. It all seemed so real, it all seemed so right. He forced himself down onto his cock, pushing it deeper into the bed; pushing it deeper into his partner. And with that thought he came. Came with a wave of emotion that flooded over him and left him lying spent and exhausted on the sodden sheet.

He rolled over onto his back and turned on the light. Body trembling he looked up at shadows that danced on the ceiling.

Where had those feelings come from?

And how was he going to deal with them?

The End