THE CLAIMING

(c) April 2014 by Charlotte Frost

A Sequel to Testament         

Starsky sat down on the sofa and kicked off his shoes.  He took a sip of beer.

Tomorrow was Friday.  Hutch would be expecting something to happen.

Starsky was wanting something to happen, too.  He was also wanting to do right by Hutch. 

Though Hutch was back at work, he'd taken a severe beating, in order to insure that Starsky was the only man he ever had sex with.  He had a couple of cracked ribs.  He hurt all over, though he was feeling better every day.

If Starsky was going to make tender, sweet love to Hutch, he thought he could get around Hutch's aches and pains.  The problem was, he was convinced that Hutch wasn't looking for it to be tender and sweet.  Or rather, there would be an element of tenderness and aching sweetness, but there was no doubt that Hutch wanted Starsky to be demanding and take what he wanted.  He might not want it outright harsh, but he wanted to be... claimed. 

Starsky wasn't sure how he could give Hutch what he wanted without hurting him.  Hutch might be okay with the hurting, considering it was unavoidable, but Starsky would never allow that from himself.

What are you looking for, baby? he wondered as he took another sip of beer.  You need me to prove that I love you?  How badly I want you, now that I know I can have you?

Starsky wished Hutch didn't need to have it proven, but this wasn't about him.  It was about Hutch's years of fantasies that he'd never expected to be played out, and now they were going to be played out.

Starsky didn't want to let him down.

He wanted Hutch to come away from their coupling, feeling thoroughly and completely loved.

That couldn't happen with pain, however much Hutch might dismiss such as a necessary evil.

Starsky cocked his head.  Maybe I've been approaching this the wrong way.

What Hutch seemed to want most, based on the fantasies he had verbally relayed, was for Starsky to make demands of him.

A grin slowly spread on the side of Starsky's face.  There's more than one way to go about that, buddy boy.

Starsky pushed through the squadroom door the following morning.

Hutch glanced at him.  "About time you showed up."

"I told you that I had some errands," Starsky defended.  He'd had to stop at three different places to find exactly what he wanted.  Now, his new purchase was in the trunk.  Waiting for tonight, with the trip upstairs, and then unrolled....

Hutch tossed a file folder aside.  "Walters' alibi checks out.  He was registered at a hotel in Phoenix the night Fleming was murdered."

Starsky grunted as he sat down.  "What about Randall?"

Hutch had to stretch to reach another file folder that was a few feet away.

Starsky watched, as Hutch didn't show any reaction to having to extend his body that far.

Hutch opened the folder.  "Still waiting to hear from Huggy on where he might be.  I think he's our strongest suspect now."

Starsky waited until Hutch met his eye over the top of the folder.  Quietly, he asked, "How ya feeling?"

Hutch's eyes darted away, but his voice was edgy.  "I've told you I've been feeling fine."

Which meant he was more than ready for a good fucking.

They couldn't talk about that here.

Starsky quickly rose to his feet, his chair scooting back loudly.  "Come on, let's hit the streets and see if we can find Randall ourselves."  He moved toward the door without a backwards glance.

They couldn't find Randall.

"Where to now?" Hutch asked, as the Torino pulled away from the curb, after yet another fruitless interview.

"Lunch," Starsky muttered.

"Huggy's?"

"Nah.  The Do Stop In."  Customers were served in their cars.

"Oh."

Hutch didn't say anything more, and Starsky could feel the air of expectation beside him.

Starsky himself felt restless.  As he pulled into the Do Stop In, he asked, "What do you want?"  He realized that his voice was clipped.

Hutch looked over at him.  He shrugged.  "Chicken burger.  Fries.  Water."

They stopped at a parking space, and a waitress came walking out to them. 

Starsky rolled down his window as she approached.  "Hi there.  A double cheeseburger, a chicken burger, two large fries, a large cola, and a large water."

She was writing rapidly.   Then she looked up and smiled.  "I like a man that knows what he wants."

Starsky laughed, but it came out strangled.  "So do I."

"Coming right up."  She moved away.

Starsky drummed his hands against his legs, trying to find a beat.

Hutch shifted in the seat beside him.

Starsky's hands stopped.  He drew a breath.  "So.  How about, you kick off on time today, go home, get freshened up, whatever.  And then," he looked over at Hutch, "come over to my place at seven."  He quickly amended, "Maybe six-thirty.  Between six-thirty and seven."

He enjoyed watching Hutch swallow, while Hutch was gazing away. 

"Okay," Hutch said softly.

"You may as well eat whatever you think you need for energy, pal, before you come over." I've got other things I want to do with you, Beautiful, than feed you -- at least not with food from the kitchen.  "Dress casual.  Super casual."  No point in wasting time, struggling with clothes.

He was starting to get aroused, as he continued to watch Hutch's determination to not look at him, since Hutch was likely in a similar state.

Starsky knew he needed to change the subject.  "What do you want to do next on this case?"

Starsky backed through his apartment door with his burden.  He brought it over to the living area, where a small desk was next to a wall.

He unplugged the lamp, and then pushed the desk to one side.

He took out his pocket knife, and cut the sturdy ties that kept the mat rolled up.  He then moved out of the way, smoothing it out to lie flat.  It was four feet by six feet.

Starsky stood, gauging the distance of the mat from the wall.  He then pulled it back a little farther.  He didn't want them to be restricted by the wall.  But Hutch was going to be needing the wall for support, at some point.

He stood back and surveyed the simple scene before him -- the mat on the floor, about two feet back from the wall.

Based upon Hutch's verbal descriptions of his fantasies, he seemed to get all the more excited about the idea of not being sure what was going to happen next.  He seemed to like having his back to Starsky, so he couldn't see.  Starsky had decided against a blindfold, but he would have the apartment mostly dark, and keep himself behind Hutch as much as possible.

He was getting aroused again.  Still got another hour. 

Starsky moved away and gathered supplies.  He got lubricant, moist wipes, and towels.  He left them on the desk, near the mat.

He turned up the heat a few degrees, so he wouldn't forget later.  He didn't want Hutch the least bit chilled.  Plus, a little sweat would be all the more stimulating.

Now, to get himself ready.

It was 6:27 PM when Starsky heard footsteps on the stairs.

The lights were out, save the illumination over the stove.  He was dressed in fresh jeans with the firmest snap, and a t-shirt. 

As the footsteps reached the landing, Starsky opened the door.

Hutch was there, dressed in powder blue sweats and, it was obvious, without any underwear.

Starsky reached to take Hutch's arm and pull him forward.  "Come in."

Hutch drew a heavy breath, looking around the semi-darkness.  Then he noted, "It's hot in here."

Starsky took a firm hold on Hutch's upper arm.  "It is indeed hot.  In more ways than one.  Over here."  He directed Hutch to the sofa, and then pushed him down, so that he was partially lying back.

Starsky straddled Hutch's thigh, his knee brushing against the protrusion at Hutch's crotch.

Hutch gasped.

Starsky cupped the side of Hutch's face, feeling his own straining center.  "Listen good, gorgeous."  Then, looking at Hutch's eager eyes, he amended, "Listen in a second."  He ducked his head and captured the lips that were becoming familiar, as was the mint flavor of recently brushed teeth.  Now, finally, he was able to press firmly.  Demandingly.

It was all he could do to not lunge against Hutch.

Hutch arched up.

Starsky tore his lips away, but kept his face close to Hutch's.  He whispered, "'Just hang on a little longer.  It's gonna be so good."  He gently patted the side of Hutch's face, noting the pliable warmth of his body.  "Listen good, buddy," he said softly.  "I want you to understand something.  Don't ever doubt, for an instant, that I know that you're eager for whatever I want to do with you.  I know you're on board with all of it.  Any of it."

Hutch drew a deep, steadying breath.  As he released it, the warm, minted air drifted across Starsky's face.

Starsky continued, "So, you don't ever have to question that." His voice dropped another octave.  "But know that what I want -- need -- is that things happen a certain way.  I know you don't mind if I get a little rough, but I can't do rough when I know you've still got some tender places.  So, in order for me to use you however I want, I need you to do exactly what I say."

He paused, listening to Hutch's heavy breath, watching his wide, eager eyes.  His plush lips were so enticing, that Starsky had to kiss him again.

When Starsky pulled back, he whispered, "Okay?"  In case Hutch's brain was muddled, he clarified, "You'll do exactly what I tell you?"

Hutch quickly nodded.

Starsky kissed him again.  He tried to relax into it, but he could feel the trembling in both their bodies.

He reluctantly pulled back and, with a hint of amusement, said, "I don't think either of us needs any further warming up."  He got up from the sofa, taking Hutch's hand.  "Over here."

He led Hutch to where the mat was, and took a step back, out of Hutch's vision.  He reached to Hutch's sweatshirt and found the hem.  He inserted his hand beneath, and rested it on the bare flesh of Hutch's lower back.  "This is where all your dreams are gonna come true tonight."

He listened to Hutch's quivering breath.

Starsky whispered, "Get undressed."

Hutch crossed his arms over his torso and pulled up his shirt.

Starsky took his opportunity and pushed the sweat pants down Hutch's legs.  He had to a pull them well away from Hutch's belly to clear the bobbing erection.

Within seconds, Hutch was naked, his clothing pooled at the floor, along with his sandals.

Starsky took him by the arm.  "Move onto the mat.  Turn your back to the light."

Hutch turned, facing where the desk was, and away from the kitchen.

Starsky had seen Hutch's naked rear plenty in his life.  Now, with the light shining on it, and knowing he was going to penetrate that flesh before the night was over, he placed an appreciative hand on the left buttock.

Hutch drew an unsteady breath, his body shuddering.

Starsky gripped the muscular flesh, and then rubbed the flat of his hand along it.  "Yeah," he cooed in a lusty whisper.  "I can't wait to have this."  He gripped it again.  "I'm going to fuck you tonight."

He enjoyed listening to another unsteady breath.

Starsky released the buttock.  "But first, we've got some other matters to attend to."  He was all too aware of his own straining erection, within his jeans, as he stepped closer, against Hutch's back.  "Keep your hands at your sides."  Then he amended, "Lean back against me, if you need to steady yourself."

He slipped his hands around Hutch's waist, inside his arms.  He placed his right hand on Hutch's quivering belly.  With his left, he felt for the straining erection.  He gripped.

Hutch gasped, then whimpered, throwing his head back.

The firm flesh nuzzled against Starsky's hand and, in turn, Starsky nuzzled his mouth against Hutch's exposed neck.

"Oh, yes," Hutch gasped.

Starsky pulled up an off.

"Dear God," Hutch cried.

It was going to take a lot of willpower, and focused concentration on Hutch's pleasure, to keep from coming in his pants, for Hutch was now writhing back against him.

Starsky licked at the sweat along Hutch's throat, causing more shudders.  "Yes, my sexy love," he murmured against the moist, heated skin.  "Give yourself over to me.  I've got you."  He stroked more firmly, loving the power that was in his grip.  With his teeth, he reached to nibble at Hutch's ear lobe.

Hutch gasped again, making an incomprehensible noise.

Starsky released the ear lobe to gruffly say,  "I own you.  There's nothing you can do to stop the pleasure I want to give you."

The erection seemed even firmer, and he now used shorter, more rapid strokes.

Starsky growled, "My hand loves fucking you."

He licked at the back of Hutch's neck.

Hutch's body jolted.  He gasped and cried out, his hips jerking.

Starsky paused and stood on his tip toes, watching white fluid splatter onto Hutch's belly, getting on his hand.  He decided to let it remain there.

He felt the hard, sweaty body against him turn to jelly.  Starsky released the softening shaft, and gently directed, "On your knees."

Hutch dropped to his knees, hunched over, gasping with relief.  Then he released a long, deep groan of satisfaction.

Starsky rubbed along Hutch's shoulder.  With his left hand, he reached for the moist tissues.  He wiped his hand a moment, and then gave the remainder to Hutch.  "Stay kneeling."  He somewhat regretted not taking the time to play with Hutch's splattered emission, but he had more urgent needs.

Standing behind Hutch, he waited as Hutch straightened just enough to clean himself, while still emitting airy sighs.

Hutch seemed uncertain to do with the balled up tissues, and then dropped them beside the mat.

"Stay right there," Starsky said firmly.  He waited a few moments, until Hutch's breath quieted.

Starsky announced, "My cock got really jealous."  He waited another moment, taking satisfaction in that Hutch was listening, and obviously wondering what was going to happen next.  In the silence of the apartment, Starsky parted the hard snap to his jeans, and heard Hutch draw a breath.

He slowly pulled down the zipper.

He decide to remain silent, as he went about the task of undressing behind Hutch.  His hard cock sprang free, when he pulled his clothing away.

Once naked, he firmly reminded, "Stay right where you are."

He stepped closer to Hutch's kneeling form.  "My cock wants you so bad."  He let it nudge against the skin between Hutch's shoulder blades, and then took it in hand, to rub the moist tip against pale flesh.  "Feel that?"  He nudged it higher, to Hutch's neck.  "I could fuck the back of your neck, and come against that beautiful hair of yours." 

Hutch's breath got heavier, while he remained absolutely still.

With reluctance, Starsky released the fantasy of spraying himself into the golden hair.  Firmly, he directed, "Close your eyes, Hutch."

He reached to place his hand on Hutch's forehead, his fingers draping over Hutch's eyelids to make sure they were closed.  Then he stepped in front of Hutch, facing him.

Though he was straining with desire, he wanted to prolong the inevitable.  He grasped his flesh, pulling the shaft against his belly.  He whispered, "Keep your eyes closed."  He stepped closer.  "Lick my balls."  He moved his scrotum against plush lips.

A tongue darted out and licked at his tender flesh.  Eagerly.  Purposely.

Starsky's thighs quivered.

"You're a little too good at that," he growled, while taking a step back.  Another soft reminder.  "Keep your eyes closed."

He took his cock in hand, and rubbed the moist tip against Hutch's cheek.  Hutch moved his face, as though to follow it.

"Keep your mouth closed," Starsky directed, uncertain of how much longer he could torment himself.  Torment them both.

He now rubbed his cock tip against the determinedly sealed lips.

"You've got such a damn beautiful mouth," he observed, sorry at the moment that Hutch was facing away from the kitchen light, since the plush lips were shadowed.  "If I wasn't so eager to fuck it, I'd kiss it clear through to next Tuesday."

Those lips parted slightly as Hutch took a heavy breath.

Starsky taunted, "You like me talking about fucking you, dontcha, Hutch?"  It was intended to be a rhetorical question, so he quickly added, "I like talking about it, too.  Been thinking about it so, so much."  He couldn't wait any longer.  "It's time for your first fucking, Hutch.  I've got a load to shoot down your throat.  Open up."

As soon as those lips started to part, Starsky thrust between them, forcing them open.  He grabbed the back of Hutch's head with both hands.

He was unprepared for the strong, masculine suction.  "Oh, God."

Hutch started to raise his right hand, and then hesitated.

Starsky quickly nodded.  "Yeah, grab hold up it, baby."

The steadying hand circled around the exposed part of his shaft.

Hutch made an agreeable groaning noise, and bobbed his head back and forth.

Starsky rubbed all about Hutch's hair, entwining his fingers in fragile strands.

It was one of the fastest blow jobs he'd ever experienced.  The peak was upon him, and he tried not to press Hutch's head against him, as he felt himself release.

His body turned to mush, as a deep lassitude settled in.  Hutch's tongue disengage from his shaft to swallow.

Still, Starsky had to pull out, for he was so sensitive, and he listened to additional swallowing.

Starsky dropped to his knees, his hands on Hutch's shoulders.  He allowed himself a moment to steady himself, his head bowed, and his fingers massaged into the flesh they held.  Then he murmured, "Wanna taste myself inside you."  With that, he raised his head, and found Hutch's lips, and pressed.  His tongue explored when it was allowed inside that warm cavern, and he could taste a familiar flavor.

Even when he'd had his fill, he wanted to keep kissing.  He gently pushed on Hutch's shoulders, and Hutch shifted to lie back on the mat.  Starsky followed him down, but was careful to stay to one side, so that he didn't press on painful ribs.

It was tempting to just lie here, and soak up the warmth of the afterglow.  But he didn't want to break the mood that had been established, and deprive Hutch of what he knew Hutch most wanted.

Reluctantly, Starsky sat up, and clasped Hutch's hand.  "Come on, stand up."  He had to make an effort to stagger to his own feet.  "Face the wall."  He waited while Hutch stood and turned to face the wall.  Starsky placed his hand on the exposed lower back.  "Lean against it."

Hutch hesitated a moment, and then reached out with both hands, so they were against the wall.  His feet were still on the mat. 

"That's it."  Starsky rubbed his hand across warm skin.  "Just relax.  You did such a nice dry of draining me dry, that it's going to take my cock a while to re-energize.  That'll give me plenty of time to get you all ready for me."  His hand drifted down and clasped Hutch's buttock.  "So looking forward to this.  How it's gonna feel to be inside you.  To fill you up with me."

Starsky stepped directly behind Hutch, and now used both hands.  He gripped fleshy buttocks, and then rubbed upward, toward Hutch's shoulders.

He felt satisfaction when he heard Hutch's in-drawn breath.  Hutch was recovered from his own climax, and ready to be excited further.

Starsky didn't want to disappoint him.  While keeping his right hand rubbing along Hutch's shoulder, the left drifted down to follow his own gaze to the twin globes.  He stuck out his index finger and let it move down the seam dividing the hemispheres.

Hutch shifted his feet.

Starsky kept his touch light.  He moved past the recess, and continued down to the hanging pouch.  Gently, a pair of fingertips massaged the back of the pouch.

He felt the faint surge of his own interest renewing.

His left hand went back up to Hutch's shoulders.  He squeezed and massaged along them, using both hands.  "I'm going to put my fingers up your ass.  I need to get them really, really lubricated."  His left hand reached around to Hutch's mouth, brushed along the open lips.  Then he pushed a pair of fingers inside.  "Lubricate them.  As far back as you want them to be inside you."

There was lube within easy reach, but this was more fun.  He felt a surge at his groin as he watched Hutch's head tilt, while he coated the fingers with saliva.  He ended up pulling his mouth away, and then drooling on the fingers liberally, back to where they met Starsky's hand.

"You're so hot, baby," Starsky whispered with approval, as he pulled the dripping fingers away.  "Spread your legs more."

Hutch's feet shifted once again, spreading his legs wider.

There was another surge at Starsky's groin, as he observed such eagerness.

Starsky gripped Hutch's left butt cheek and pulled it aside.  He felt for the wrinkled depression, and rubbed some of the wetness against it.  "Easy does it."  He took his middle finger and pushed.

It barely went it, as he felt the firmness of the muscle.  "Easy," he whispered.  "It wants to know your insides, baby."  He pushed some more.

He knew Hutch wasn't trying to keep him out, but there was a natural resistance.  Starsky pressed his upper body against the warm back, and kissed along the back of Hutch's shoulders, which were dewed with sweat.

He let the finger slip back a little, and then pushed more firmly in.  He continued the questing motion, getting in a little farther each time.

He wriggled it around. 

Hutch threw his head back, gasping.

"Yeah, you like that," Starsky murmured, continuing to work the finger in.  He stood on his toes and licked at the back of Hutch's neck.

Hutch quivered all over.

The finger pushed in more.  Starsky felt the second knuckle slip past the tight ring.  "That's my Hutch."  He continued wriggling it, changing from a back-and-forth motion to a circular motion.  He now had greater movement, as the muscle relaxed from the stimulation.  "Gotta make plenty of room for me."  His own groin was getting a lot more interested.  "You're gonna be such a fantastic, hot fuck."

He placed his index finger against the opening.  "Easy does it."

Hutch reacted with a grunt, when the second fingertip forced its way past the tight muscle.

"Gotta make enough room," Starsky reminded, breathless.  "My cock's a whole lot bigger than what's in there so far."

He felt the deliberate relaxing of Hutch's body.

He pushed the second finger in father, and then rotated the two outward, using a wider and wider motion.

Hutch gasped, and made a motion of undulating back.

"So greedy for more," Starsky said with approval.  "You want as much of me up your ass as you can possibly get."  He pressed his upper body against Hutch's sweat-sleek skin once again.  He made a final move to push as far as his fingers could go.

Then he moved them in and out, up and down.

He listened to the noises that emerged from Hutch.  The quiver that went through his skin.  The way he shifted to try to spread his legs even farther.

Starsky's whisper was full of lust.  "I love fucking you any way I can, Hutch." 

Hutch's head moved back, as though seeking Starsky's touch.  "Yes," he gasped, his breath heaving.

Starsky stood on his tiptoes again, and mouthed sloppily at Hutch's flesh, while still keeping his fingers moving in and out, the motion becoming quicker.

Hutch gasped again.  "Please, yes."

Starsky could feel Hutch trying to draw his fingers in farther.

He reached around with his right hand, and found Hutch's erection.  It felt awkward from this side, but he gripped it.

"Oh, God, yes!" 

Hutch's head continued to move about, as though trying to seek more of Starsky's tongue.

It took all of Starsky's concentration, but Hutch's pleasure was worth it.  He stroked with his awkward right hand, licked and nuzzled along Hutch's neck, thrust his two fingers in and out rhythmically, each thrust harder than the one before.

"God!" Hutch cried.  "God!"

It was one of the hottest, sexiest experiences Starsky had ever had, bringing Hutch off like this.  Just as Hutch started to climax, Starsky bit down on his throat.

Hutch shook ,shuddered, and quivered, his sphincter muscles spasming around the fingers of Starsky's left hand.  His cock coated Starsky's right hand with fluid, as it made a final up-and-off motion.

Starsky now released the phallus, and placed his arm loosely around Hutch's middle, careful of tender ribs.

As Hutch gasped for air, Starsky pressed himself closer, his own erection seeking to be where his left hand was, and tried to offer support.

"Ahh, Hutch," Starsky whispered.  He now kissed gently along Hutch's shoulders.  "Atta boy.  You're so hot to love.  Love loving you, so much."

His right hand moved tenderly along Hutch's belly, feeling more of the droplets.

"Easy," Starsky soothed, as Hutch's breath began to recover.  "Easy.  I'm gonna give you a few minutes to come down, and then I'm going to give you what you want most of all."

Hutch turned his head back, as far as it would go.

Starsky had to go up on his tiptoes again, to plant his lips on the ones that waited for him.  He could feel how pliant Hutch's body was now, inside and out.  As he settled back on his feet, he said, "I'll kiss you good and proper a little bit later."  Then, he felt compelled to add again, "Love loving you so much, Hutch."

He moved the inserted fingers back and forth, enjoying their freedom of movement, since the muscular rings weren't as tight.

Starsky waited until Hutch's breath evened out.  Then he pushed against the back of his shoulder.  "Bend over more."

Hutch stretched his arms out farther, against the wall, letting them take more of his weight.

Starsky stepped back, even has his bobbing cock protested.  He finally removed his fingers from Hutch's warmth, and placed both hands on Hutch's hips.  He pulled on them.  "Need you at just the right height, so my cock can fuck you good and hard."  He looked down and gruffly said, "I've been looking at your gorgeous ass all night, and now I'm gonna claim it as my own."

Hutch's head hung, even has he could be heard breathing harder, as though to show that he was yielding completely to whatever Starsky wanted to do with him.

Starsky reached for the tube of lube.  He unscrewed the cap, wondering how long he was going to last.  Normally, he had a lot of stamina for the second orgasm in a single evening, but he was so hot for Hutch, he wasn't sure that was going to be the case.

He spread lube along his cockhead.  Then he looked up, and wanted to do as much as he could to excite Hutch, even while in a state of blissful afterglow.  "Spread your legs wider.  I need lots of room."

There were noises of the plastic of the mat, as Hutch's feet shifted, so his stance was wider.

Starsky put the lube aside and stepped closer.  He reached around to place his hand on Hutch's belly, and took satisfaction in how it expanded and contracted, as Hutch sought more air.

"Gonna put myself inside you, baby."  He took his hand away.

Starsky grabbed both buttocks and pulled them apart.

Hutch's breath quickened.

Starsky placed his cock as best he could, just using the motion of his hips.  The moist tip rested against the wrinkled opening.

His left hand reached down and grasp the shaft.  He guided it and thrust.

Hutch whimpered as the head pushed past the tight ring.

"Easy," Starsky murmured huskily.  "Easy does it."

He waited a moment, feeling his blood pound in protest at the delay.

Hutch seemed to be struggling to catch breath.

Starsky thrust again.

Hutch grunted, his breath halting and unsteady.

Starsky pressed more, loving the snug warmth that welcomed him, past the tight opening.  His pubic hairs rested against the muscular globes.

He swallowed thickly.  "Ah, Hutch.  You took the whole thing."  Both hands now massaged along the outside of Hutch's hips.  "The whole thing."

He could feel muscles working around his length.  Then, abruptly, they relaxed.

"It's right where it most wants to be."  The words were tender, but Starsky was feeling the urge of inevitability.  HIs voice was gruffer when he said, "Gonna fuck you clear through to next week."  With that, he undulated back, and then slammed forward.

Starsky tightened his grip on the pliant hips, and began a firm thrusting motion.

Hutch grunted with each slam against his ass, while Starsky grunts were of pleasure building.

It was too good, the motion too perfect.  The steady, rhythmic thrusts, that his love so eagerly accepted, were hurling him toward a premature peak.

Starsky thrust harder, letting it happen.  Hutch's legs braced all the more, in their determination to hold his body still for him.

When the sensations climaxed, Starsky cried out, thrusting as rapidly as was humanly possible.  Then he stopped, murmuring incoherently, as the waning pleasure overwhelmed his male organs.

When he was next aware, he was panting heavily, his hands resting on Hutch's back.

Hutch was still, his arms still outstretched.

"Oh, God," Starsky gasped.  His hands ran lovingly along Hutch's back.  "So incredible."

He felt a muscular contraction.  "Easy," he cautioned, and then carefully pulled out.  "Easy."  He continued to rubbing Hutch's back, as he felt his hair plastered to his forehead.  "You can straighten up.  Easy."

Hutch carefully moved one leg, drawing it closer to his body, and then the other.  He started to turn, muttering "Gotta -- "

Starsky nodded.  "Go ahead."

Hutch moved rapidly off the mat, and toward the bedroom, where the bathroom was.

Starsky was still catching his breath.  He managed to bend down and gather up their clothing.  He took them to the bedroom.  He dropped them next to the bed, and then went searching for a pair of fresh briefs.  After pulling them on, he went into the kitchen and took a couple of cans of beer from the refrigerator.  Feeling the sweat start to cool on his forehead, he went to the thermostat and turned it down.  After returning to the bedroom, he placed one beer on the nightstand, nearest the bathroom, and moved around to the other side the bed.  He got under the covers, sitting up, and popped the lid.

He took a couple of sips, while enjoying the satiated feeling in his loins.

The toilet flushed, and Hutch emerged from the bathroom a moment later, where he'd kept the light on.

Starsky said, "Your clothes are on the floor.  I turned the temperature back down."  He held the covers open.

With the light from the bathroom, Hutch found his sweat pants, and pulled them on.  He began to stagger into bed.

"There's a beer there -- "

Starsky's words were cut off as Hutch grabbed his face with gentle hands.  Then tender kisses were planted along his forehead, his eyelids, his nose....

Once they stopped, Starsky said with a warm smile, "Yeah.  Me, too."  He waited until Hutch settled into bed, and then said, "I think we both could use a few hours of sleep."  He reached to put the beer on his own nightstand.

Hutch had popped the lid to his beer, and took a few sips.

Then they snuggled down beneath the covers.

Starsky figured he'd been sleeping for an hour or so.  Hutch's back was to him, as he rested on the side that didn't have the cracked ribs. 

The light was still shining from the bathroom.

Starsky was aware that his hand was resting on Hutch's clothed hip.  His fingers massaged along the fabric.

He'd loved fucking Hutch.  Loved commanding Hutch, because he knew that's what Hutch had wanted.  Loved loving Hutch.

Historically, first time sex was rarely the best encounter between any two people.  There were all the mental games that stemmed from being unsure of each other, and being unable to wholly trust one another.  Of being uncertain of what particular action was causing pleasure, and a desire to not want to hurt tender feelings when the performances were lacking.

He and Hutch hadn't had to worry about any of that.  They had all the trust in the world, as a foundation for this first time.  Nothing was a greater demonstration of that trust, as when, a couple of weeks ago, Hutch had felt courageous enough to tell Starsky his most private fantasies.

Starsky gazed at Hutch's back, and he felt his heart beat softly in his chest.

Such revelations had made Hutch vulnerable.  Starsky wanted to protect those vulnerabilities, at any cost.  Hutch's raw feelings and desires were a gift, and Starsky knew that he must never use them against Hutch, in any type of conflict or argument between them.  He was the recipient of something sacred, in being the one person allowed to know this special man's innermost passions.

With that desire to protect, Starsky wondered about next week, when they'd be on the streets.  Sometimes being shot at.  How would he feel about that, knowing the person he loved -- in a way even more intimate now than ever before -- would be a target?

He felt a slight shifting of the mattress.  He rubbed more firmly -- petting -- along the hip.

Hutch drew a quiet breath.

Starsky ventured, "You okay?"

Hutch seemed to gather himself, and then he rolled over onto his back.  He grimaced slightly -- mostly from his ribs, Starsky knew -- and settled back against his pillow.  He smiled warmly.  "I'm wonderful.  Maybe more wonderful than I've ever been."

Starsky swallowed.  The words were so uplifting to hear, but he felt compelled to ask, "Were you bleeding?"

Hutch reached for the beer, which had surely warmed.  "Little bit."  He took a sip, and then placed it back on the nightstand.  He gave Starsky another smile.  "Nothing to worry about.  You were very careful.  Thorough."

Starsky drew breath.  "Man, Hutch, you felt so incredible.  I hope you're up for it again this weekend.  It felt so good, loving you like that."

Hutch's expression was still soft.  "I'll be up for it."  Then he amended, "For anything." 

"Next time, I want to do it in bed.  Hold you really close while I'm driving into you."  He wasn't sure if Hutch's ribs were up to it, though.  He hoped so.

Hutch glanced away bashfully, which Starsky thought was endearing.

After a few moments, Hutch looked at Starsky with a longing expression, and started to shift again.

Starsky met him halfway.  They kissed.  Long,  Leisurely.  Both making noises of agreement.

When they parted, Hutch continued gazing at him.

"What?" Starsky prompted.

"You look different than I've ever seen you before.  Like... vulnerable.  But different from when you've been hurt and needed me to take care of you."

Starsky couldn't dismiss the irony.  "I was thinking the same thing about you, more or less."  He sat up straighter, and then said somberly, "I've been wondering if I'm going to be able to handle the idea of you being shot at."

Hutch furrowed his brow.  "Why would that be any different now?  We've always loved each other, however we were showing it."

Starsky wasn't sure how to express his fear.

Hutch went on, "We'll just have to be all the more determined to protect each other -- if there is such a thing."

Starsky decided that he liked how Hutch explained it.  "Yeah."  He really couldn't imagine that there was anything more they could do to keep each other out of the line of fire, than what they'd always been doing.  He rested his hand back against his head, and the other reached to clasp Hutch's hand.  "There's so many things I want to do with you this weekend.  It's going to be magical."

Softly, Hutch said, "You know, you don't always have to be the one to initiate everything."

Starsky looked at him. "Oh, I'm sure we'll have our moments of trading off, at times.  But I'm hardly the one that initiated this."  His voice dropped an octave.  "You were the one who was so brave, telling me what you wanted."  While Hutch glanced away, Starsky squeezed his hand and admitted, "I'm in awe of that.  I don't think I could have shared something like that, even with you."  He considered, "Maybe acted it out.  But I don't think I could have verbally told you."

Hutch's mouth corner twitched.  "Does that mean that I shouldn't ask what else you have in mind for this weekend?"

Starsky grinned.  "That would spoil all the fun, if you knew ahead of time."  Not that Starsky had thought about the whole weekend much.  He'd mostly been fantasizing about their first time, and how he wanted Hutch's dreams to come true.  But Hutch didn't need to know that, since Starsky intended to make things up as they went along.

Hutch yawned.  "At least I know I can come more than once, within an hour or so.  Thought I might be too old for that."

"Yeah.  Me, too."  Starsky then decided, "I think I'm ready to sleep a while more."  He started to move beneath the covers.

"I'll get the light," Hutch said.  He sighed as he got out of bed, and then staggered toward the bathroom.  He reached inside the door to flip off the light.

The room was now dark, save the faintest glow from the distant kitchen light.

Slowly, Hutch got into bed.

Starsky decided not to comment on the stiff movements.  Instead, he offered, "Think you wanna snuggle up against me?"

"We're on the wrong side of the bed."

"I'll move," Starsky decided.  He emerged from the covers, and trotted around to the other side of the bed.

Hutch was gingerly scooting to Starsky's side.

Starsky moved beneath the Hutch-warmed part of the mattress.  He got comfortable, on his back, and then Hutch carefully lay against him, his head on Starsky's chest, and his hand resting on Starsky's middle.

"Mmm," Starsky approved.

They were silent for a moment.  Then Hutch said, in a small voice, "I love you."

He sounded so delicate, as though he wasn't sure how such simple words were going to be received, after what they'd shared tonight.  Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's back, beneath the covers, massaging lightly.  "Yeah.  Me, too."  His words came out choked, which surprised him.  He softened his own voice, to match Hutch's tone.  "Love loving you.  So, so much."

There was a slight shift, as Hutch seemed to settle more contentedly against him.

Then all was quiet.

END

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