The Caveats of Camping

Hutch and Starsky go camping. What could go wrong?

Originally published in Venice Place Chronicles Volume VII.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this again,” Starsky said, the toe of his Adidas shoe kicking at the blanket of pine needles under his feet. He took a deep breath, hands rising and slapping against his thighs as his eyes scanned the trees that surrounded him like an army of soldiers closing in on the enemy. “I mean, am I crazy or what?”

“Aw, c’mon, Starsk. It’ll be completely different this time. You’ll see.” Hutch reached one hand around Starsky, giving his partner’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze, his other hand making a large sweeping motion toward the tree line and lake in front of them. “Just look at this place. No smog. No city lights. No—”

“No television. No hot shower. No pizza delivery,” Starsky interjected with a disgruntled sigh.

Hutch leaned over and planted a tender kiss on Starsky’s cheek, his words dripping with an obvious connotation of charisma. “Oh, but you love me and would do anything for me, right?”

With a quick roll of his eyes, Starsky defiantly crossed his arms across his chest and turned away, careful not to let his lover see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, revealing his undeniable agreement with Hutch’s statement. “I haven’t agreed to stay yet,” he replied, attempting to sound serious but failing miserably.

Plucking his car keys from his pocket, Hutch chuckled victoriously as he strolled toward the weather-beaten LTD parked nearby. “Give me a hand with the tent, will ya? It’s getting late, and I wanna get this thing up before dark.”

Knowing when to accept defeat, Starsky emitted a sharp huff and obliged, joining Hutch next to the open car trunk. He grabbed the canvas duffle bag containing their only means of shelter for the weekend, sauntered back to where he had previously been standing, and tossed the bag to the ground. “Hope this thing is bear proof,” he stated brusquely, his words not spoken in jest.

Hutch gathered their sleeping bags, pillows, and a small lantern before slamming the trunk shut. “There hasn’t been a bear attack around here in decades,” he said, then deposited the items next to a nearby tree. “Besides, there’s plenty for them to eat—berries, fish, acorns, grubs—I don’t think that includes Starskys, even if you are delicious,” he added with a wink as he knelt to unzip the duffle bag.

The accolade initiated a familiar tingle in Starsky’s groin, the image of Hutch’s mouth wrapped around the girth of his rock-hard cock easing the unfavorable aspects of their long weekend in the wild. He shifted slightly in the growing tightness of his jeans and settled down next to Hutch on the ground. “Delicious, huh? So, you, uh, hungry?” he proposed craftily.

Hutch grinned at the implied words. “Not yet, but you help me get this tent up, and I’ll see what I can do about getting something else up.”

Swallowing hard, Starsky jumped to his feet, eager to get started. “Well, let’s get going, then.”

“Did Robert say when he needed the tent back?” Hutch asked. “His family camps a lot, so I don’t wanna keep it too long.”

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. “He wasn’t home, so his wife said to just grab it out of the garage. She didn’t say anything about needing it back right away.”

“Okay, good. I just wanna make sure he doesn’t need it anytime soon,” Hutch said as he pulled the tent out, preparing to set it up. “I thought there’d be more to this thing, though,” he observed with a frown.

Reaching over to help spread the tent on the ground, Starsky gave little thought to Hutch’s puzzled expression. “Well, what can you expect? It’s a nylon hut,” he quipped with a wave of his hand at the object in question. “But on the bright side, it won’t take long to put up, so we can get on to bigger and better things, right?” He watched Hutch’s lips thin in an arousing smile of agreement. Suddenly, their surroundings seemed a lot more appealing.

Fifteen minutes later, the tent was up. Starsky eyed their makeshift home, mouth gaping open in disbelief at the one-man pup tent displayed before him and his partner. He cautiously glanced in Hutch’s direction, apprehensively waiting for the reaction he knew would follow.

“Starsk, where exactly in their garage did you get this tent?” Hutch asked in a calm tone of voice.

“On the right hand side…just as you walk in,” Starsky replied with some hesitation, eyes never leaving the small abode. “There was whole pile of them.”

“Damn it! You grabbed the wrong tent!” Hutch yelled, his hands perched on his hips. “Robert is a Boy Scout Leader. You grabbed one of the tents the scouts use! You were supposed to grab their family tent!”

Starsky quickly stepped away from his infuriated partner, arms waving defensively in front of his body. “Well, how was I supposed to know that, huh? You didn’t tell me which tent to grab. You said to pick up a tent from Robert, so I picked up a tent from Robert! I didn’t know there was a certain one! You should’ve told me!”

“I didn’t think I had to tell you.” Hutch circled the tent, studiously rubbing his hand across his jawline, his long, brisk strides evidence of his anger. “It’s getting late. It’d take half the night to go back into the city and switch it out.”

Starsky glanced at the waning sun disappearing behind the tips of the pine trees. “So, what are we gonna do?”

Hutch grabbed a sleeping bag and pillow from the ground and tossed it at his partner’s feet. “We’re not gonna do anything, lover,” he stated firmly as he retrieved the other sleeping bag and pillow and began spreading it inside the small tent. “I’m sleeping in the tent and you can sleep out here.”

Kicking the sleeping bag aside, Starsky stomped toward Hutch. “Now, wait a minute. You can’t expect me to sleep out here with the bears, bugs, and God knows what else. Besides, it’s already getting chilly. You want me to freeze to death? Not to mention it’ll be dark. I won’t be able to see what’s out there. Something might sneak up on me.”

“You’re not gonna freeze to death, Starsk. It’s the middle of June. Just build a fire if you get cold,” Hutch said, then neatly straightened the comers of his sleeping bag before stripping to his boxers and crawling inside. “And nothing’s gonna get you, either. You’ve got a lantern for light. You’ll be able to see all around you. It’ll be morning before you know it, then we can drive back to Robert’s and switch out the tent. Look, I’m beat, I’m not happy, and I wanna get up early and go fishing. I’m going to bed.” He turned on his side and pulled the cover up on his shoulder.

Starsky’s expression conveyed his hurt, but he knew Hutch never saw it from beneath his nylon cocoon. “Ya mean we’re not gonna have a fire, you know, roast marshmallows and hot dogs… screw each other senseless?” he asked despondently.

“Kinda lost my appetite for food and sex,” Hutch mumbled, turning on his other side, away from Starsky’s view.

“Fine! If that’s how you wanna be!” Starsky whirled in a huff, hastily unrolling his sleeping bag as he kicked his sneakers, jeans, and shirt aside. He flipped the switch on the lantern, hoping the batteries would last until morning, and slipped inside the bag, zipping it to his ears. “Wasn’t crazy about having my bare ass exposed to all the blood sucking mosquitoes around here anyway,” he added angrily, forcing his eyes closed against the damp evening settling around him.

* * *

Lying within the warm confines of his tent and sleeping bag, a twinge of both guilt and regret seeped into the corners of Hutch’s mind. He had wanted this weekend to be perfect for them, perfect in every way. Their caseload had been grueling, lately, especially this past week, and this was a much-needed break for both of them. Starsky had reluctantly agreed to give a trip in the outdoors another chance, but Hutch knew it really wasn’t where his friend had wanted to spend their days off. Starsky had gone along with the plan to make him happy, a generous and loving gesture on his partner’s part. Now, here they were, in separate sleeping bags, several feet apart. It might as well have been worlds apart as far as Hutch was concerned. His anger had mellowed into a haze, the sheer exhaustion from their work week making the effort to stay mad more than he could muster. And he could never find it in himself to stay mad at Starsky for long anyway, love always winning that battle. He intended to make their spat up to Starsky in more ways than one. He just wanted to close his eyes for a minute, just to rest up for what he had planned. Just for a second. That second turned into nearly an hour.

* * *

Starsky tossed and turned in the chill of the night air, trying to get warm, but the effort was futile. A shiver racked his body from head to toe. HC was convinced he was freezing to death. With an empty stomach, he had no fuel to burn to keep his body warm, and with no Hutch, no body heat to curl up next to. Mosquitoes and gnats buzzed relentlessly around his head. He was miserable and certainly didn’t intend to spend the entire night like that. There ‘s gotta be room for both of us in that tent. He ‘Il never know if I slip in right next to him. Just gotta be quiet. Donning nothing but his briefs, he scurried silently across the ground in the muted light of the lantern and slinked into the narrow opening of the tent. Carefully, he eased the zipper of Hutch’s sleeping bag open and slipped inside as far as he could go, his fur-covered belly and chest pressing against Hutch’s smooth back. It was a tight fit, but it beat sleeping outside. His lover never stirred, only moaning a slight grunt of approval within the throes of his deep slumber. In minutes, Starsky was sound asleep, snuggled against the welcome warmth of Hutch’s body.

* * *

Hutch was drawn into blurred consciousness by a slight pressure against his back, warm and furry, the feeling enough to prod a cautious eye open. Suddenly, a low growl emanated within the small confines of the tent, bringing him fully awake as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. There was little time to react. “Bear!” Hutch screamed as he attempted to fight his way out of the sleeping bag that held him prisoner. It was no use. The creature had him within his grips. “Oh, God, help me, Starsk! It’s got me! Help me!”

He heard Starsky start to shout. “Hang on, Hutch! I’ll save you!”

A whirl of dust and twigs was kicked up, hampering Hutch’s breathing. The tent collapsed as Hutch’s arms and legs pummeled the vicious bear, determined to escape its death grip at all costs.

“Ouch!” Starsky cried out. “Hutch, that’s me! Stop hitting me! Hit the bear, not me!”

Suddenly realizing what he was up against, Hutch’s face emerged from the wreckage of the tent, tufts of blond hair standing wildly on end, and stared back at the familiar form of his partner flailing under the nylon remains. There was no bear, no threat to his life, only Starsky. “Starsky!” he howled. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!”

“Hutch, you okay? Did the bear run off?” Starsky quit struggling and appeared from under the tent, panting and out of breath, bits of nylon and leaves dangling from his curls.

“There was no bear, you big dummy. Just you!” Hutch crawled out, brushing the dirt from his hands and knees, white as a ghost. “What were you doing in there? And why were you growling at me?”

Starsky followed Hutch’s lead, sheepishly edging out and standing next to his friend. “I got cold, so I crawled in next to you. And I wasn’t growling at you. That was my stomach. We never did eat any dinner, ya know.”

“You scared me to death!” Hutch snapped, turning toward the mess at his feet. His hand slapped with exasperation against his bare thigh as he eyed what was left of the tent. “And now we don’t have anywhere to sleep. Just great!”

His eyes trailing to the ground, Starsky uttered remorsefully under his breath, “Sorry. I was just cold. I screwed this whole trip up, didn’t I? I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be.”

A sigh of exasperation escaped Hutch. “I’m not mad. I’m too tired to be mad,” he replied sharply. “I just wanna get some sleep so we can salvage what’s left of this weekend. Let’s just zip our sleeping bags together and call it a night.” He retrieved his sleeping bag from the ruins of the tent, proceeding to where Starsky had abandoned his, and began zipping them together. He climbed in and made a reasonable effort to get comfortable.

Starsky followed like a scolded pup, quietly sliding in the sleeping bag, his back to Hutch’s, an exasperated sigh escaping him as he pulled the cover over his shoulder.

Mimicking the same actions, Hutch heaved a sigh from his side and brusquely pulled the cover over his exposed shoulder, inadvertently pulling it away from Starsky, exposing his friend’s upper body to the chilly night air.

Starsky huffed and tugged at the cover once more, repeating the scenario, leaving Hutch to the elements.

With an audible grit of his teeth, Hutch abruptly rolled to his other side, determined to voice his frustration to both his partner and any critter within earshot that cared to listen. Starsky, however, had the same intention and Hutch found himself nose tip to nose tip with his lover. “Damn it, Starsky!”

“Damn it, Hutch!” Starsky retorted, nearly in unison with Hutch’s words.

Hutch didn’t respond, instead he found himself mesmerized, reveling in the warm sweetness of Starsky’s breath, almost tasting the words as they spilled from the lips he had kissed more times than he could count. The light of the lantern cast an unusual reflection in the blue eyes boring into him, giving the appearance of tiny flames burning deep within their circular borders. The simmering inferno seemed to feed on his emotions, his anger shifting to wanton desire as the heat from Starsky’s body radiated against him, the feather-light touch of his lover’s cock against his own teasing him, taunting him through the thin fabric of his boxers, obliterating any remaining tension into a longing that consumed him, conquered him.

“Say what you’re gonna say,” Starsky stated firmly, propping his head on the palm of his hand. “Go on. Tell me how I screwed up this whole weekend. How I made your only days off miserable. I’m ready. I can take it. Say what’s on your mind.”

“I, uh, I mean, w-what I’m trying to say is,” Hutch stammered nonsensically. “Oh, hell, Starsky. I can’t take this anymore.” His hands sprang forth from under the sleeping bag, fingers feverishly entangling the dark curls above Starsky’s ears, ravenous lips seeking their target on the startled face gaping at him.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Starsky agreed with an enthusiastic tone.

Hutch felt the sleeping bag being torn away and hands passionately groping his exposed skin. “You know I can never stay mad at you for long,” he readily confessed.

“Yeah, I know,” Starsky agreed with a smirk. He rolled onto his back, kicked off his briefs, and draped a leg over Hutch’s waist, pulling him close, while his fingers toyed with the elastic on Hutch’s boxers. “Get rid of these, fast,” he demanded, tugging at the unforgiving material.

A little too eager to comply with the request, Hutch ripped the boxers from his body with one hand. “Done,” he announced, flinging the torn remnants haphazardly over his shoulder where they promptly landed on the branch of a nearby pine tree. Trapped within Starsky’s muscular legs, his naked body ground wildly against his lover’s, his rock-hard cock straining within the tight confines of their heated flesh as he pummeled Starsky with an assault of kisses.

“I’m s-sorry, Hutch. Sorry, for screwin’ this whole weekend up,” Starsky said in a strained voice.

“Sorry?” Hutch replied as he feasted on the tender lobe of Starsky’s ear. “Show me how sorry you are,” he insisted with a low growl. “The only screwin’ that’s gonna be going on this weekend is you screwin’ me. Got that?”

“Think I can handle it,” Starsky acknowledged, wearing a smug expression, thighs tightening their grip around Hutch’s torso. “No way will I mess that up.”

The increased pressure against Hutch’s body only added to his tortuous pleasure, Starsky’s rigid cock sandwiched alongside his further fueling his impassioned frenzy. He twisted and squirmed against the taut muscles holding him amorously prisoner, his mind not wanting to escape such satiated bliss, his body craving more. “Starsk, please, let me go. Need you. Want you.” Hutch blinked his eyes repeatedly, unsure whether his sight was hindered by darkness or blurred by desire. “Fuck me, now.”

Starsky responded with a growl. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you all right. I’m gonna fuck you ’til you’re seein’ stars through those clouds hangin’ overhead. On your knees, babe.”

Hutch didn’t have to be told twice, eagerly perching on hands and knees, his body shivering with anticipation of what he knew would follow. He chuckled aloud as Starsky reached around him and pulled a tube of lubricant from the jeans cast aside earlier in the evening. My partner, always prepared for an opportunistic moment.

“Never say I’m not prepared,” Starsky bragged. “Spread your legs a little wider for me. Want you ready for me, all of me.”

Hutch enjoyed the lavish preparation Starsky gave him, then felt the tip of Starsky’s leaking cock between the crevice of his ass checks, teasing them apart, before releasing them again, only to trace a path from his tailbone down his crack to the heavy sack hanging between his legs. Starsky bumped mercilessly against his balls, then retraced his movement once more. The sensation was pushing him to the brink of madness. “Starsk, you’re driving me crazy!”

Starsky leaned over, lips perched at Hutch’s ear. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, lover,” he warned mischievously, continuing the same motion.

As he was taunted once again, Hutch wrapped his fingers around the quilted material of the sleeping bag, preparing for retaliation. “Oh, yeah?” he retorted in a low voice, waiting for the right moment when Starsky prodded at his tight opening. He suddenly lurched backward, impaling himself on his cock tease of a partner. “Gotcha!” he bragged, clenching around the warmth suddenly filling him.

“Hutch! That’s not fair!” Starsky spouted in a high-pitched voice.

Feeling Starsky’s body stiffen behind him, Hutch smiled roguishly. “All’s fair in love and war,” he said with a smirk and a curt wriggle of his ass.

Starsky moaned loudly. “You devil, you. I think I’m the one who’s in charge here, though. Don’t you agree?”

Hutch’s breath caught in his throat as Starsky pushed deeper into him with one sharp movement, the action coupled with a firm, but gentle squeeze of his cock. He bit at the side of his lip in an adept attempt to disguise the effect the motions had upon him, but the light sheen of sweat breaking across his body in the chilly night air told another story.

“Thought you would,” Starsky said arrogantly, his hips beginning a slow thrusting motion that mirrored the rhythmic pumping of his hand around Hutch’s cock. “Now, whaddya say we get down to business, huh? Just relax, babe. Let me take you outta here, away from it all.”

Hutch momentarily closed his eyes as Starsky massaged the muscles at the base of his neck, oblivious to everything around him, pulled from the reaches of the Earth by this man loving him. He wanted to return that love, with every inch of his body, every ounce of blood that raced through his veins, he wanted to take Starsky with him, soaring above the Heavens and beyond. He thrust his hips backward, driving Starsky deeper and deeper inside of him, until he thought he would burst. He felt the grip tighten around his throbbing shaft, pumping him like a sawed-off shotgun in a gun battle.

Starsky’s pace quickened, an animalistic growl emanating from his throat. Hutch met Starsky’s pounding thrusts with eager reciprocation. Flecks of white spiraled in front of his eyes on the ascent into ecstasy, the stars Starsky had so vehemently promised him left miles below his soaring body.

“Can ‘t hold on much longer,” Starsky said, his once fluid movements revealing his growing loss of control, his grinding hips no longer in sync with his vigorous stroking motions.

As he reached the final pinnacle, Hutch erupted in a thunderous explosion just as Starsky thrust forward one last time, his lover’s passionate release nearly knocking him to his stomach.

“Oh, God, Hutch!” Starsky roared, his boisterous outcry spooking a flock of black birds from their nighttime roost. He toppled onto Hutch’s back, while mumbling something about heaven and blond angels under his breath.

Hutch looked over his right shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Starsky’s face, his lips skimming the cheekbone of his rugged beauty. “Love you,” he whispered as Starsky’s softening cock slid from him.

“Love you, too,” was his partner’s reply accompanied by a return kiss. Starsky grabbed his discarded shirt, placing it over the damp spot Hutch had left on the sleeping bag. He tapped his hand on the makeshift coverlet, “There, lay down,” he motioned toward Hutch.

Hutch collapsed in a heap in the warm confines of the sleeping bag, pulling Starsky down with him, their spent bodies melded against each other in a tangled web of arms and legs. Night sounds mingled with the even keel of their breathing, until Hutch cleared his throat to speak. “Starsk?” he mumbled.

Starsky nudged a weary eye open. “Yeah, babe?”

“Apology accepted.”

“Kinda thought so,” Starsky purred contentedly.

The lantern flickered and slowly dimmed, its batteries spurting forth their last effort of life.

“We’re losing our light,” Hutch noted drowsily from the cradle of Starsky’s arms. “No moon. I’ve got more batteries in my car. It’s gonna be a dark night.” Knowing his partner’s concern for any uninvited guests, he fully expected to feel Starsky pull away and go get them, but instead he was pulled tighter, a stray strand of hair brushed from his sleepy eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” Starsky whispered into Hutch’s ear. “With you in my arms, I’m invincible.”

Plop. Plop. Plop.

A large drop of rain struck Hutch squarely between the eyes, followed by another on his cheek and another on his exposed shoulder. “Oh, great, now it’s raining.” He sighed in distress and looked up at Starsky’s rain dampened face. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

Starsky tugged the sleeping bag over both of their heads, covering them from head to toe against the falling rain.

Hutch continued his apologies within their dry covering. “I never should’ve brought you out here. I know how you hate to camp. I’m sor—” His words were stifled as Starsky pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Shhhh…” Starsky soothed. “Not another word. This is the best camping trip ever.”

As the downpour pattered above them, Hutch once more found himself on a journey to paradise, all regrets trickling away with the rain. “Yeah, yeah it is,” he heartily agreed.

The End