What Day Is It?

Starsky surprises Hutch on Valentine’s Day.

Hutch woke up to the aroma of coffee and that special enticement of fresh baking that caused his mouth to water.

Had to be Starsky. No one else in this whole wide world would dare sneak into his apartment and take over so possessively, as if he owned it. Guess he did in a way.

That thought brought a serene smile to Hutch’s face as he tried to quietly sneak his way towards the kitchen, anticipation of a little morning delight warming him from his toes to his tingling scalp.

He was ambushed though before he got within ten feet of his objective.

“If you don’t put some clothes on Detective Hutchinson, you’re going to regret missing out on ambrosia straight from the gods.”

Starsky stood before him, and Hutch was speechless, his erection springing to attention at the glorious erotic sight that set his blood surging through every corner of his body.

This wasn’t his Starsky; this was a dream image so exquisitely attired and captivating that he wanted nothing more than to kneel before him in total supplication.

He might have been right out of the pages of The Three Musketeers; the purest of white silk, balloon-sleeved blouses accented his dark complexion and the curling chest hair that followed the open blouse almost to his navel.

The blouse was tucked into equally white form-hugging silk pants that succeeded in driving Hutch’s body fever up another twenty notches. He felt weak at the knees and barely kept himself from ravaging the man.

Gold glittered at Starsky’s collar and as he raised his hand to present a crystal goblet of golden liquid to Hutch, a wide wand of etched gold was on his ring finger.

Hutch reached automatically to accept the offering and in stunned silence responded to the gesture of twined arms as Starsky gently clinked their glasses together and holding Hutch’s gaze sipped at the liquid. Hutch took a desperate gulp of the drink and as it sparkled its way down his throat his eyes widened in surprise.

“Champagne and orange juice,” Starsky said as he stepped back. “A lover’s drink to greet this special day. Take it with you and go take a shower. I’ve left everything there for you, but don’t take too long. There is more to come.”

Starsky gently turned him and gave a soft shove in the right direction and Hutch moved as if in a trance, lost in the overpowering aura of romance and sexuality that poured off his partner.

Shaking himself slightly he suddenly woke to the anticipation of what was to come, and sipping his drink entered the bathroom, or what once was his bathroom.

The air was rife with the enchanting fragrance of a dozen red roses sitting in quiet beauty on the counter. Red votive candles glittered on a gold plate. A small bottle of a very expensive after-shave stood waiting and his shaving gear was carefully laid out.

On the rack a bath size red towel was draped, and on the door hook hung a red silk, long, luxurious bathrobe with twined hearts delicately stitched in a darker thread. A pair of equally red silk boxers could be seen beneath the robe.

Excitement and amazed joy rushed through him. He had never before seen this romantic side of his partner and he was stunned. He briskly set to work shaving, taking special care, and then quickly showered. Before leaving the room, he blew out all but one candle and retrieved one rose.

Settling the rose in the hand with his goblet, he took the candle and returned to the kitchen approaching his partner. He had the wondrous feeling of walking down an aisle.

Slowly he handed the candle to Starsky who accepted it with a mildly quizzical expression that quickly cleared as he realized that Hutch was giving back to him all that he had offered. He placed it in the centre of the table and turned back to Hutch.

Hutch offered the rose from one knee and with a gentle kiss to Starsky’s ring finger rose. Retrieving Starsky’s goblet, he once again twined their arms.

“I do,” Hutch said, as he locked gazes with the most amazing gift he had ever been given.