Too Damn Hot

Sometimes the summer days are just too much.

Hutch had given in to the desire for a shower even though the sweltering August heat would just render the need for another one soon enough. But for now he would relish the few moments of comfort, the mercilessly short window in which his hair was pleasantly damp from refreshing cool water rather than from sweat that would leave it sticking to his forehead and neck.

His mistake was opening his eyes. He knew this before he heard Starsky’s footsteps, before he heard Starsky whistling, before he even cracked his eyes open marginally. He knew that he would take one look at Starsky in his worn cutoffs, at that magnificent bare chest, and immediately feel the misery that occurs with competing realities. And indeed, this was a battle that could not be won, because although Starsky’s golden skin rendered him delectable enough that Hutch wanted to lick every drop of sweat up from it with his tongue, it was too damn hot for sex.

As if reading his mind, Starsky crooned. “All you have to do is lie there, Hutch. I’ll do all the work.”

“That’s the problem,” Hutch murmured. He considered himself a generous lover, and he didn’t care for the thought of being pleasured without doing any pleasuring in return. “I like to give, not just take.”

“Oh you’ll be taking what I’m giving Blintz,” Starsky’s voice was laden with suggestion, deliberately shifting the focus on intimacy from equality and partnership to a power differential. Hutch could already see it; Starsky practically swallowing his cock, Hutch’s hands buried in those curls, tightening as he came down Starsky’s throat, then Starsky, moments later, burying his own cock inside Hutch, sweat glistening on that olive skin and making Starsky look even more delicious, while Hutch just flushed every ridiculous shade of red, and not caring in the least.

That was all right then, Hutch decided. In a few months he’d coax Starsky on a trip back to Minnesota for the holidays, finagle some alone time in his family’s cabin, where Starsky, having lost his acclimation to cold weather from having been coddled by too many Southern California winters, would be powerless to resist Hutch’s attempts to keep him warm.