The Day the Earth Stood Still

Starsky gestured around the lush suite they occupied. “…Hutch, we’re at a policeman’s convention, not on a sightseeing trip. Haven’t you heard what people do at conventions? They get laid.”

Chuckling, Hutch encircled Starsky with both arms. “You have the most inventive ways of propositioning me, lover.”

This story originally appeared in the S/H zine, “No Pants, No Badge, No Gun,” published by April Valentine’s Amapola Press in April, 1985, written under the name, “Jeannette Paris.”

“Ah, Philadelphia.” Dave Starsky sighed, peering out the hotel room window, enjoying the lights of the city. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his partner leaning tiredly against the wall nearby. Starsky gave him a playful nudge with his elbow. “City of ‘brotherly love’.” He said it with a lecherous inflection.

Hutch rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Somehow, I knew you’d get around to saying that this weekend.”

Starsky ruffled the blond hair. “Glad I didn’t disappoint you. Hey-” He took Hutch around the waist. “You seem bushed.”

“Sitting around this dumb convention all day… ” Hutch’s voice trailed off as he stifled a yawn, “who wouldn’t get tired?”

“I know. But we’re done now. No more boring lectures on the latest detecting techniques. We got the whole night and tomorrow to find somethin’ better to do.”

“You want to go out?” Hutch sounded as though he did not. “I guess we should at least take a look at the Liberty Bell while we’re here.”

“What?” Starsky gestured around the lush suite they occupied. “And leave this beautiful hotel room? Hutch, we’re at a policeman’s convention, not on a sightseeing trip. Haven’t you heard what people do at conventions? They get laid.”

Chuckling, Hutch encircled Starsky with both arms. “You have the most inventive ways of propositioning me, lover.”

Starsky wiggled his eyebrows in his best comic Groucho fashion. “Yeah. And you love it.” Hutch bent his head, Starsky reached up and their mouths joined in a lingering kiss.

Starsky brought one hand up to Hutch’s neck, his fingers sliding through the fine hair at his nape, sensing the man’s fatigue and tension from the long day. He made his kiss even more tender, pressing his body close. Hutch responded, relaxing slightly.

When the kiss ended, Starsky drew Hutch toward the love seat. It was upholstered in light blue velvet, almost the color of Hutch’s eyes. The tall man sank down, sighing as his weight settled comfortably against the cushions.

Starsky sat beside him, tracing the full lips with a fingertip. He loved Hutch’s mouth, loved its taste, loved when it tasted him. Those lips could be so firm, so demanding, so giving… now they were soft and moist, nibbling at the caressing finger.

“You’re not too tired, are you?” Starsky noted how breathless his own voice sounded. Their love was still so new, he found himself hot with eagerness already.

Hutch met his eyes, his expression warm with desire. But his voice teased. “Well, I am kinda beat….”

Starsky pretended he was serious. “Well, just lean back and relax then, babe, and I’ll do all the work.” He leaned down to Hutch’s mouth again, kissing him deeply, falling in love all over again.

Starsky stroked the side of Hutch’s face, breaking the kiss to watch his lover’s expression. Hutch sighed, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Starsky’s hand, his eyes heavy-lidded with contentment. Starsky gave him little teasing smooches all over his face, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, the line between his brows. He nuzzled his sideburns and planted a moist trail of kisses along his jawline, while his hands kneaded the strong shoulders through the lightweight material of Hutch’s turtleneck.

The fabric drew Starsky’s attention, his fingers going to the loose neckline that currently covered too much of his lover’s throat. He took hold of the tab of the zipper at the front of the sweater’s neck, slowly pulling it down. His lips followed the path of newly exposed skin and he smiled as Hutch wriggled beneath him.

He parted the unzipped edges, running his tongue up and down the V of flesh. Hutch drew in a rasping breath, and his head tilted back to rest on the back of the love-seat.

“Mmmm…” Starsky voiced his appreciation; the long, sculptured throat was one of the most beautiful parts of Hutch. His lips felt the pulse in the warm, throbbing vein, then traveled down to cover the Adam’s apple. Further around, and he tongued the two moles at the other side. Hutch trembled in his arms. Starsky wasn’t too surprised when demanding arms tightened around him and Hutch attempted to reverse their positions on the narrow love seat.

Soon, Starsky was the one pressed back against the cushions while a hot body leaned close, kissing and caressing him.

Hutch’s fatigue seemed to have disappeared. His hands roamed over Starsky, pulling open buttons, tugging his shirt out of his waistband, struggling with his belt buckle with ardent energy.

“Hey…” Starsky was growing breathless under the onslaught. “Take it easy. There’s not enough room on this damn little piece of furniture-”

His mouth was covered in a searing kiss, his body lifted in strong arms. Before he knew it, they were entwined together on the wide bed.

“Better?” The question was rhetorical. Starsky answered by grasping Hutch’s hips as he rocked his pelvis against him.

They began moving faster, their urgency creating a pleasant struggle of undressing and falling back into each others’ arms. Hutch’s lips gave pleasure now, from their moist exploration of hardened nipples down the path of curling hair that covered Starsky’s ribs and stomach. Already frantic, Starsky moaned when Hutch licked his hard shaft, beginning to thrust as the hot mouth took him. Hutch sucked him slowly, expertly, until Starsky was gasping with need.

Hutch released him in one way so that he could possess him in another. Starsky was open, ready, his body responding to Hutch’s needs. Before he and Hutch had become lovers, Starsky had never thought yielding himself to the strength of another man could be so good, so right. Theirs was an equal relationship, Starsky was as often the one taking as being taken, but this time, under Hutch, he reveled in the man’s power over him, wanting to give all of himself to Hutch, all his passion, all his spirit.

Starsky’s eyes opened, watching Hutch in the act of loving him, marveled at the features transfixed with arousal, the sweat-dampened hair clinging around the face, framing its intense beauty. The muscles of Hutch’s arms and hips rippled in tempo to his thrusting. To Starsky, he was a powerful animal, free, wild and elegant.

Starsky gave himself up to sensation. He was the fire of their raging desire, the throb of their beating hearts. His ears echoed with their combined gasping breaths, with the moist slapping sound of their bodies meeting and the rhythmic squeaking of protesting bedsprings. Against his bare back, Starsky felt the clinging bedspread they had neglected to turn down, its rough-stitched pattern scratching his sensitive skin. His shoulders felt the lump of the pillow beneath his neck, his hips pounded into the mattress as Hutch drove into him.

Harder, deeper, harder… Hutch’s breathing grew harsher, his eyes lost their focus. Not long now, closer, closer… Starsky thrust up to meet him, urging their completion, knowing that this time was special, one of the best, for Hutch, as well as for himself.

He felt his own arousal rising, nearing, but Hutch was going to get there before him. “Hutch…” He could not tell if he whispered or screamed the name, but Hutch was past hearing anyway. Starsky went with the sensations, his body controlled by Hutch’s power.

Now, now, now… Starsky felt it gathering, lifting, carrying him along with the explosion. Hutch shook with the violence of his orgasm and beneath him, Starsky trembled, too. It seemed even the bed under him shook with the force of it, the floor, the foundations of the building, as if the world bowed before the power of their love.

He held Hutch close in a tender embrace as the last echoes shivered through the exhausted body, slipped his hands down the slick back to caress the sweat-moist ass. He turned his head, wanting to kiss some part of his lover, finding a spot on the side of Hutch’s neck, just below the moles. Full circle. Hutch tasted so good, loved so good.

Hutch shifted against him, murmuring unintelligible sounds. Starsky turned them slightly, eased them apart, but stayed close. He was right where he wanted to be, secure as only Hutch could make him feel in the circle of his arms.

Hutch stirred, bleary eyes opened. Starsky found himself the object of an adoring gaze. A shaky hand stroked his face. “Starsk, I… I…” Hutch swallowed, beyond speech.

Starsky laughed softly, contentedly. “I know, babe. It was fantastic. You came like a regular earthquake. Me, too.”

Hutch squeezed his eyes shut, wincing at Starsky’s metaphor. He cleared his throat. “Are you trying to tell me the earth moved for you, buddy?”

“Well… yeah. Didn’t you feel it?”

Hutch, laughed, too, then, weakly hysterical. “You’re crazy,” he managed after a moment, gasping for breath.” I appreciate the compliment, but-couldn’t you think of anything more original?” His voice sank to a husky whisper as he teased. “Was it good for you? Did you hear bells?” He snickered tiredly.

Starsky saw no humor in the conversation. “Go on, laugh. That’s not what I meant. You just don’t wanta admit it was the best fuck of your life.”

“Shut up, idiot.” Hutch covered Starsky’s offended pout with a loving apology.

Much later, after a shower and dinner from room service, they lay under the covers, slow kisses turning more urgent once again.

“I still say the earth moved. Wanta see if we can make it happen again?” Before Hutch could answer, Starsky rolled on top of him.

*****

Next morning, Starsky reached a bare arm out from under the blankets to switch off the irritating voice of a newscaster on the radio. He hated it when the clock went off on the news instead of waking him to music-made him grouchy. This Philadelphia guy’s voice was particularly obnoxious… What was he saying?

No, it couldn’t be. Starsky started giggling, then laughing aloud. He couldn’t be grumpy now, not if he tried, despite the rude awakening. Beside him, Hutch raised his head, a tousled blond protest.

“Quiet, will ya? M’sleepin’.”

“Wake up'” Starsky’s hand on his partner’s shoulder shook Hutch, his giggles shook the whole bed. “Listen! This’ll kill ya.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t turn that radio off and shut up!” Hutch’s roar of annoyance perturbed Starsky not in the least.

“No, really, babe. Listen.”

Sighing heavily, making a huge display of being very much put upon, Hutch cocked his head toward the radio.

The announcer continued. “Yes, it was indeed an earthquake felt in the area early last evening. A tremor registering 2.1 on the Richter scale-nothing as big as the ones they get out on the west coast, but noticeable nonetheless. Damage to windows in several areas has been reported…”

Hutch was laughing, too, now as he reached for his bed-mate.

“Wha’d’ya know,” Starsky marveled, his voice smug. “The earth really did move, babe.” He reached to capture Hutch’s mouth in a kiss. “Think we should call in-tell ’em what caused the quake? These easterners must be worried.”

“No.” Hutch’s smile was wide and provocative. “Thanks, Starsk, but…I’m really too modest to take the credit.”

“What?” Starsky let out a yelp. “You’re too modest? You think you can take all the credit?” He reached under the covers, taking a tantalizing grip on Hutch’s anatomy. “Who got you going, huh? You were too tired, remember? Who turned you on so good? And who made fun of my compliments? I’ll show you who’s gonna take any credit…” He was tickling, pinching, not letting up until Hutch was wriggling helplessly from the torment, gasping with weak laughter. At last, Starsky relented, but only so he could make out the stammering attempt at apology.

“Okay… all right… I swear… I’ll never say your comments on my lovemaking are unoriginal again.”

“Great.” Starsky threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. He grabbed his suitcase and began stuffing his clothes into it.

“What are you doing?” Hutch was still sprawled on the bed, recovering.

“Packing.” Starsky turned to regard his lover. “I wanta see what happens when we do it back home on the San Andreas Fault.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hutch stretched expansively, getting comfortable in the rumpled bed, his hips posed at a provocative angle.

It took only a moment for Starsky to recognize he had no resistance to Hutch at all. He came back to bed, covering his partner’s body with his own. He met the other man’s eyes, his mouth barely an inch from Hutch’s.

“Guess California can wait to fall into the Pacific… ”

It was the last thing either of them said for a very long time.