Friday, November 28, 1980
Hutch joined Starsky in the hotel dining room, regarding with amazement the amount of food his partner had gotten off the buffet.
“I can’t believe you can eat that after all you packed in at your mom’s last night,” Hutch shook his head, and sat down with his coffee and oatmeal.
“I’ve slept since then!” Starsky retorted, shoveling a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “It certainly was some spread, wasn’t it?”
“Delicious,” Hutch agreed, spooning up a bite of his poached egg. “It was nice of your mother to invite me.” He leaned back in his chair and looked across the table at his partner, happy to have spent the holiday with him rather than sitting at home alone watching a ballgame. Hutch’s parents had decided at the last minute to take a cruise with friends, and his sister and her family had come down with the flu, leaving Hutch with nowhere to go.
Guests of the hotel milled about them, taking their plates from the large buffet set up in the middle of the dining room to their respective tables, sounds of conversation and silverware clattering on plates the backdrop to the meal.
“So, we have three more days in New York before we fly back home. What would you like to do?” Hutch asked.
Starsky didn’t meet his eyes. “Well, that brings up something I need to talk to you about, Hutch.”
Hutch stopped eating. “Uh, oh.”
“What?” Starsky looked up, the picture of innocence.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Hutch wiped his mouth on a napkin.
“I don’t know about that.” Starsky licked his lips and took a long drink of orange juice. “Here’s the thing…you know how Nicky’s taking classes at the community college and doing so good…”
Hutch nodded. “Yes, and I’m very proud of him. I would’ve told him that last night if he’d stayed more than a few minutes at your mom’s.”
Nick and his girlfriend, a friendly, outgoing girl, had spent Thanksgiving with her parents. Hutch had to admit, Nick had certainly turned his life around since the last time Hutch had seen him, and Hutch could tell that Starsky was very proud of his younger brother.
“Yeah, I know you would have. That’s why I think you won’t mind us helping him tonight,” Starsky replied.
“Helping him, how?” Hutch asked, trying not to be too suspicious but failing pretty miserably. He knew his partner’s body language well, and Starsky was acting weird. It was reminiscent of the time that Starsky asked Hutch to help him wrap a ‘few’ presents for a charity and it ended up being over two hundred of them.
Starsky leaned back and finally fastened his eyes on Hutch. “Okay. A while back, Nick had to write a paper for a sociology class. He said the professor’s really tough. They were studying homosexuality, and he was supposed to interview somebody and write about it. Only, he didn’t know anybody that was gay and couldn’t find anybody, either. He was real bogged down with work, so he called me up. I didn’t know anyone, either. So Nick said he was going to fudge it a little…he asked if he could interview me about my partnership with you, since we’re real close, and he was just going to make it that we’re a married couple.”
“What?” Hutch dropped his forkful of eggs. Sitting back in his chair, he stared incredulously at Starsky.
“Honest, Hutch, every bit of the paper was true except the fact that we’re married. I read it. He didn’t lie…he said we are partners, and we are. Fortunately, the assignment didn’t have to tell anything about struggling with homosexuality; it only had to talk about the male/male dynamic, or something like that. And Nick got an A! He was so proud, and I was, too. It was a real good paper.”
Hutch frowned. “How the hell did he make a paper about us sound gay?”
Starsky cocked a brow and gave him a look, and Hutch sighed. “Okay, never mind. It sounds like it all went fine, so what’s the favor?”
Starsky cleared his throat. “Seems Nick mentioned within this guy’s hearing that his brother and his partner were coming to New York for Thanksgiving. The guy, Professor Barnes, immediately asked if we would come to his party tonight. He went on and on about wanting to meet us.”
Hutch’s eyes widened. “Starsky, this sounds like a recipe for disaster. Why didn’t he just say we were going back home today?”
“He said he could’ve kicked himself for not saying that…he just was taken by surprise and all, and he ended up agreeing, and the professor was so happy, and he’s been so supportive of Nick and his studies…”
“Okay, okay,” Hutch held up a hand to stop Starsky. “So you’re suggesting we go to this party acting like a gay couple.”
Starsky looked nervous. “It isn’t exactly my idea of a fun evening, but I’m willing to do it for Nick. Question is, are you?”
Hutch regarded his best friend and partner. Starsky had been through so much in the past several months. He was only now up to par physically and ready to go back to work after the holidays, if he passed the psych evaluation and physical range test. Hutch knew Starsky worried about this, and about his ability to back Hutch up on the streets again. Hutch wasn’t worried; he just wanted Starsky to be happy. Hutch would quit the force altogether, if that was what his partner wanted.
He sighed. “No. But I’m willing to do it for you, pal. It’s not like we have to be all over each other or anything.”
Starsky grinned. “Right! It should be easy.” He let out a breath. “Man, Hutch, I thought it would be a lot harder to convince you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the homophobe at this table.”
“I’m not a homophobe!” Starsky crossed his arms over his chest. “You know that whole thing with Johnny Blaine just took me by surprise. I have no problem with same sex love.” He winked at Hutch. “I love you, don’t I?”
“Okay, then,” Hutch smiled, not sure how to take that last comment. On the one hand, of course Starsky loved him. It was the other hand that gave him pause.
On the cab ride to Nick’s professor’s apartment, Starsky hit Hutch with another surprise.
“Hutch, give me your hand.” Starsky took Hutch’s left hand in his and slipped a ring onto the third finger, then did the same to himself.
“You’re kidding.” Hutch stared down at the gold band before looking up at Starsky. His friend’s blue eyes twinkled at him.
“We gotta look legit, don’t we?”
“Where’d you get these?”
Starsky looked uncomfortable. “I bought ‘em.” He shrugged. “They weren’t real expensive, and maybe I can return ‘em tomorrow.”
Hutch frowned. “How’d you know my size?”
“I guessed,” Starsky told him. “And I was right! Perfect fit.”
Hutch couldn’t help smiling. “Is there anything we have to…you know, go over before we get there?”
“I don’t think so…unless maybe the date we got married, in case it comes up. Nick didn’t mention how long we’d been married in his paper. Let’s go with Christmas three years ago.”
“Sounds good,” Hutch said, running his hands over his slacks, trying to get the wrinkles out.
“You look fine,” Starsky told him. “Stop primping.”
“I’m not primping!” Hutch objected. “I just want to look good.”
“And you do! I told ya you look ten years younger now you’ve shaved off the caterpillar. I’m proud to have you as my husband,” Starsky said teasingly. “How about me? Do I look good, baby?” Starsky gave him a little kissy face before glancing at him coyly from beneath his lashes. Starsky had the lushest lashes Hutch had ever seen on a man or woman, and why in the hell was he thinking that?
“God, what are we doing?” Hutch asked, shaking his head, but he obediently looked Starsky over. Starsky wore his beige slacks and red and navy sweater, which went well with is dark complexion and set off the color of his eyes. “You look very nice, too, Starsk.”
Starsky grinned at him. Their eyes locked, and Hutch inexplicably felt a shiver run up his spine. Well, it was a bit cold in the cab; the heater was evidently broken.
The taxi pulled up in front of a well-to-do apartment building directly across from Central Park. Starsky paid the driver, and they climbed out. Nick and his girlfriend, Sophia, waited in the lobby, and Nick pounced on them immediately.
“Davy, Hutch! I’m so glad you could make it. Professor Barnes is so psyched to meet you.” He lowered his voice. “You think you two can pull this off?”
“Sure,” Hutch shrugged. “We’ll just pretend we’re undercover, won’t we, Starsk?”
“Right, it’ll be a cinch. Don’t worry about it, Nicky. How you doin’, Sophia, sweetie?” Starsky kissed her cheek. A petite brunette, Sophia looked stunning in a strapless red dress, her hair arranged in loose waves about her shoulders. It was obvious that Nick was very smitten with her.
“I’m great, Dave. It’s so nice of you and Hutch to do this for Nick. It must be really uncomfortable for you.”
“Na, we’re so used to each other, it’s not a problem at all,” Starsky assured her.
Hutch almost rolled his eyes. Starsky acted so sure of himself, but Hutch knew better. Moving closer to him, he slipped his arm around his partner’s waist, pulling him close. He grinned when he felt Starsky resist. Now who’s teasing whom?
“Better loosen up there, Starsk. You’re going to have to play the part.”
Nick frowned. “Yeah, Davy. You don’t look like a happily married man to me.”
Starsky took a deep breath, let it out, and relaxed, allowing Hutch to manhandle him. With an evil grin, Hutch leaned in and kissed Starsky on the neck.
“Hey!” Starsky squealed, pulling away again.
“Davy!” Nick objected. “Oh, my God, you’re gonna ruin this!”
Hutch raised a brow.
“Shut up, Hutchinson!” Starsky growled, and Hutch spread his hands as if to say I didn’t say anything! “Come on, let’s go up. I can do this, but there ain’t no reason to start it all here in the lobby.” Starsky swaggered towards the elevator, his aggravatingly attractive ass swinging.
“Don’t forget, this was your idea,” Hutch whispered to him on the way up.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.”
When they reached the apartment and Nick knocked, a middle aged man opened the door. He was medium height, had longish, silver hair, and kind brown eyes. He introduced himself as James Barnes’ partner, Harvey Williamson-Barnes.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick shook his hand. “I’m Nick Starsky, and this is my girlfriend, Sophia Todd. Professor Barnes asked me to bring my brother, David and his partner, Ken Hutchinson, since they’re in town visiting our mother.”
“I know exactly who you are; Jamie’s told me all about you. Welcome!” Harvey said jovially, shaking all of their hands in turn before leading them inside the crowded apartment.
White Christmas played on the stereo and at least fifteen people mingled about, holding drinks and talking. “Jamie was intrigued with your paper, Nick, and about this relationship you two have,” he indicated Starsky and Hutch, “where you’re partners both on and off the job.” He took their coats, and Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances. At that moment, something seemed to click. They were officially ‘undercover’ and would work as smoothly as they always did.
Hutch felt Starsky’s hand at the base of his back as they meandered through the crowd. James Barnes appeared almost immediately, shaking their hands in greeting. He was very tall, at least six foot four, and had dark brown hair and green eyes behind wire rimmed glasses. The apartment was quite large, and the glass balcony doors provided a beautiful view of Central Park. It had just begun to snow, and the flakes fell fast, coating the railing where someone had strung clear Christmas lights. Harvey asked for their drink preferences and disappeared into the kitchen to get them.
“Nick was an exceptional student,” Barnes told Starsky. “I really enjoyed having him in class.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Starsky replied. “He’s a bit of a late bloomer, but I always knew he was smart.”
“He definitely is, and I think he has a knack for sociology. In fact, I am considering asking him to be my aide next term. He can gain college credits for it, and it will be a good experience for him. Did he tell you he’s thinking about making sociology his major?”
Starsky nodded. “He certainly did. I think he would be thrilled to be your aide, Professor Barnes.”
“Call me Jamie, please.” Jamie turned to the built- in shelves along a wall to change the record, and a moment later Elvis Presley began singing Blue Christmas.
“My favorite Christmas song!” Starsky enthused, and sang along in imitation of The King, complete with lip curl and gyrating hips.
“Oh, God, Starsky…stop.” Hutch squeezed his eyes shut. Jamie laughed. “No, no! I love it.” Soon a small crowd gathered to watch Starsky’s performance.
“He’s very charismatic,” Harvey said in Hutch’s ear. “I bet he’s a tiger in the sack” Hutch blushed to the roots of his hair, suddenly imagining Starsky in his bed—all that intensity focused on Hutch. He had to take a long drink of his wine in order to steady himself. Harvey elbowed him gently. “I’m right, aren’t I? You lucky devil, you!”
When the song ended and everyone clapped, Hutch and Starsky found a seat and the conversation turned to national news. Starsky leaned inward in an act of intimacy, resting his hand and chin on Hutch’s shoulder as he listened to Harvey and another man talk. Hutch found himself thinking again about Starsky in his bed. They’d been on enough double dates for him to know what his partner was like when he was in an amorous mood, and thinking about it titillated him. All of his nerves moved into high alert, and when Hutch felt Starsky’s breath on his neck, he thought he would burst.
Hutch had had a few experiences in college with other men, something Starsky vaguely knew about, but they had been pretty innocent. What Hutch had in mind at that moment was a naked, sweaty Starsky writhing underneath him, and the feelings of pure desire he got thinking about it completely took him off guard. He glanced over at Starsky’s face, so close to his, and Hutch leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, gently, and with a slight brush of his nose before pulling away. A look of surprise crossed Starsky’s face, but the next second he smiled what could only be called adoringly, obviously going along with him.
“Would you two consider joining us for dinner tomorrow night?” Jamie asked out of the blue. Before he knew what he was doing, Hutch accepted the invitation. He felt Starsky’s confusion and squeezed his knee, reassuring him.
The rest of the evening went well, and Hutch had to marvel at Starsky’s ability to go from straight and uncomfortable, as he’d been in the lobby, to one half of a convincingly intimate gay couple. There wasn’t a moment when Hutch didn’t feel some part of his partner touching him. Starsky spent a lot of time talking up Nick to Jamie, but it didn’t seem to be necessary, since the professor already had a high opinion of Starsky’s younger brother.
As soon as the party ended and they were alone, Starsky rounded on Hutch, incredulity written on his face. “I can’t believe you told him we’d come to dinner! Hutch, that’s another night of this act.”
“Think about it, Starsk,” Hutch replied seriously. “Jamie is head of the sociology department and talking about making Nick his aide. For Nick’s sake, we can’t afford not to do this.”
Starsky regarded Hutch for a long moment before speaking, and when he did, his voice was soft. “You know, that’s really nice of you, Hutch. To give up another night in New York, having to pretend you're married to me just so Nick can have an in with his professor. I know how you hate lying. I really appreciate it, buddy.” He pulled Hutch into a bear hug.
Hutch couldn’t help the sudden wave of guilt that assaulted him; he knew he wasn’t doing this for Nick. He was doing this for himself.
The following evening, Hutch and Starsky showed up at Jamie’s and Harvey’s apartment right on time, and Jamie warmly ushered them in.
“Garth and Max are running a little late. Wine?”
Hutch smiled, taking a seat on the couch. “That would be great. Starsk?”
Starsky nodded, sitting in the chair adjacent.
When Jamie handed them their glasses, he said, “So the last name thing…is that from being cops together? I mean,” he chuckled, “you don’t use those names in bed, do you?”
“Actually, we do,” Starsky said smoothly, and Hutch almost choked on his wine when the image of the two of them in bed calling out each other’s names popped into his head.
“I mean, I can’t imagine ever calling Hutch ‘Ken,’ can you, Hutch?” Starsky picked up his glass from the coffee table and brought it to his lips.
Hutch shook his head, feeling the tug of playful competition that so often came to the fore when he was with his partner. Willing his voice to be steady, he answered, “Nope. He’s never done it. But I do occasionally call him David during moments of...” He looked slyly over at Starsky. “…high passion.”
It was Starsky’s turn to almost choke. He narrowed his eyes at Hutch.
Harvey smiled. “Jamie likes me to call him Bubba when we have sex.”
“I do not!” Jamie slapped at Harvey’s arm playfully, and they shared a chuckle. The doorbell rang, and Harvey jumped up to get it.
Hutch could feel Starsky’s eyes on him while he sat drinking his whiskey. After a moment, he got up out of his chair and came over and sat beside Hutch, placing his hand on his knee. Hutch could feel himself coloring deeply, but he didn’t take his eyes from Jamie’s face.
Garth and Max were very likable. Both somewhere in their forties, the affection and ease they showed with one another spoke of a long, comfortable relationship. Max, stout and sturdily built, had a hearty, infectious laugh, and he and Starsky hit it off right away. Soon all three couples were exchanging stories of how they got together romantically.
“Believe me, it really took us off guard,” Max told them. “Garth and I had been working together for five years at the construction company. I didn’t even know he liked men!”
“I sure didn’t know you did!” Garth said in his deep New York accent. He was a bit taller than Max, but just as bulky. “Not the way you were always with the ladies.”
“So how’d you finally figure it out?” Starsky asked, leaning back against the couch, his green shirt opened to mid-chest. Hutch held Starsky’s hand, and began toying with his fingers. He loved Starsky’s fingers…so long and artist-like. He wondered if Starsky realized he was fiddling right back, squeezing Hutch’s hand and playing with the ring on his finger as he talked.
“We were out drinking on New Year’s,” Max said. “And we accidentally ended up in a gay bar, I swear to God. Well, the ball was dropping, and suddenly we looked around and realized there were no women in the place, and the men were all kissing. So Garth grabbed me and laid one on me. Coulda knocked me over with a feather.” He looked at his partner. “And it was a really good kiss, too!”
“That’s a lot more romantic than our story,” Jamie said. “We met over a head of lettuce at the grocery store.”
“What about you two, Ken?” Harvey asked Hutch.
“Oh…” Hutch racked his brain to think of something plausible.
“Hutch declared his love for me one night over football,” Starsky suddenly supplied. “He must’ve been carrying a torch for me for years! I think he’d been looking at me in the locker room for a while, too.”
Hutch’s mouth fell open. He was going to kill Starsky…
The group looked to Hutch expectantly, and he pasted a smile on his face. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “Although I had found some man-on-man porn in Starsky’s closet, so I had some idea of his proclivities. That and the fact that I used to catch him eyeing our captain’s ass.”
“Ah!” Jamie laughed. “He has a nice one, eh?”
Starsky colored. “Yeah, very, er, ample.”
Soon they all went into the dining room to eat dinner. When they returned to the living area an hour later, Garth exclaimed, “My God, look at the snow! It’s really coming down. It’s partly sleet—it’s bouncing off the railing.”
Harvey poured more brandy in his glass. You guys will just have to stay the night. The roads are probably treacherous already.”
Hutch and Starsky shared a look. “Do you have room?” Hutch asked, glancing around a little nervously.
“Sure,” Jamie told him. “Harvey and I actually sleep in the smaller bedroom. The guest room has two doubles in it. Garth, you’ve always wanted to try a water bed, so you and Max can take our room for tonight, and we’ll room with Ken and Dave. More wine, Ken?”
“Sure,” Hutch held his glass out, swallowing thickly. They were getting in a little deep. Starsky squeezed his hand, and he relaxed a little, although with the way he’d been feeling lately, lying beside his partner all night in bed was going to be a real challenge.
Conversation turned to some television show that Hutch had never seen, but evidently Starsky thought was hilarious, and so did Harvey and Max. They discussed episode after episode while Hutch lounged back in the cushions, only half-listening. Jamie took Garth into the dining room to show him his Faberge egg collection, and the warmth of the room combined with the wine Hutch had imbibed slowly lulled him to sleep, the conversation melding around him until it was all one dull buzz. Gradually, he sagged against Starsky, who immediately wrapped an affectionate arm around him, pulling him close. Hutch could feel his partner’s laughter rumble underneath his cheek and heard him say something about Hutch having lost sleep the night before. Starsky’s shirt was soft, and his voice comforting. Hutch found himself sinking into deeper slumber.
He awoke with someone jostling him.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Let’s get you to bed,” Starsky said in a low voice.
“Oh—sorry! Didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” Hutch blinked at the dim room. On the other side of the glass doors an impenetrable wall of blowing snow met his gaze.
Jamie moved about the room quietly picking up glasses and arranging pillows. Someone ran water in the bathroom, and someone else closed cabinets in the kitchen. Starsky pulled Hutch up off the couch and led him into a bedroom with two nicely made up beds.
“I’ll take this one,” Hutch said, still half asleep, and Starsky jovially replied, “Oh, you think you’re going to leave me out in the cold tonight, do you? I’ve got news for you; I need your feet to keep mine warm.”
Oops. Hutch took a deep, even breath before reaching for Starsky and pulling him close, saying teasingly, “Just kidding, babe. You know I can’t sleep without you beside me.” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he slipped out of his shoes and socks. Jamie undressed on the other side of the room, climbing into bed and jostling around to get comfortable. As Starsky went to the bathroom, Hutch shed his clothes down to his boxers and got under the covers. It wasn’t long until Starsky joined him, and a moment later, Harvey entered the room. At that moment, the light by the bed went out.
“Was that the bulb or the electricity?” Jamie asked. Harvey fumbled out of the room, and when he returned he announced that the electricity had gone off.
“The snow’s probably taken down a line.” Harvey got into bed beside Jamie. “Garth almost came in his pants when he tried the water bed,” he told him, laughing. “I told them not to get too comfortable in it.”
Jamie’s soft laughter filled the room. Raising his voice a little, he asked, “That bed okay, Dave? Ken?”
“Yeah, it’s great,” Starsky answered, and Hutch made a noise of agreement.
Hutch shifted a bit closer to Starsky, trying not to look awkward.
They heard Harvey tell Jamie goodnight, and then the distinct sounds of a kiss.
Hutch wondered if he and Starsky should do something, too, and had just decided it wasn’t necessary when Starsky turned and layed one on him. Hutch’s eyes widened, and he reached out to brace his hand on Starsky’s arm.
“’Night, Sweetie.” Hutch could just make out Starsky’s wink in the darkness.
Hutch lay awake for quite a while, remembering the feel of Starsky’s lips on his and wondering why it hadn’t seemed weird when it really, really should.
Hutch couldn’t sleep. The sound of Starsky’s snuffling beside him formed the backdrop of several hours spent staring at the dark ceiling. He could just make out the two men spooned in the other bed, one’s arm draped about the other, and seeing it, he felt a yearning so deep it shocked him.
A different sound from Starsky caused Hutch to look over. There was a distinct frown on his partner’s face, and he jerked in is sleep, emitting a small, frightened moan . Hutch reached over and gently shook his shoulder.
“Starsk, wake up,” he whispered.
Starsky shuddered, whimpering. Hutch put his hand on Starsky’s chest, feeling his heart racing beneath clammy skin.
“Starsky,” he said, moving his face closer to his partner’s ear so as not to awaken the other men in the room.
Suddenly, Starsky’s eyes popped open and he gasped, looking around in confused panic. When his eyes lit on Hutch, he blinked, a look of relief pouring over him as he grabbed hold of his partner and pulled him tightly to his chest.
Hutch obligingly wrapped his arms around Starsky and held him close, chuckling softly into his damp curls.
“Hey, now, what’s wrong? Bad dream?” he asked, the hammer of Starsky’s heart thumping against Hutch’s skin.
Starsky answered by pulling him closer, his nose buried in Hutch’s neck. “The worst,” he croaked, clinging like a monkey to a tree. Hutch had never seen Starsky like this and wasn’t sure what to make of it. In the past months since the shooting, Starsky had alternated between bold posturing intended to show he was still the same, tough cop he always was, and subdued quiet that told Hutch his partner was still trying to cope with what had happened to him. Never, though, had Starsky clung to him like he was at that moment. It was as though he was a child again, all restraint and emotional armor stripped away. Hutch could feel hot tears on his bare shoulder, and a distinct tremble running through Starsky’s body. He reached up and ran his hand through his partner’s dark curls, humming reassuringly in his ear as he waited for Starsky to get a hold of himself.
“Never leave me, Hutch. Never, ever leave me,” Starsky said brokenly into the crook where Hutch’s shoulder met his neck.
Hutch pulled him tighter. “Shh, I’m not going anywhere,” he soothed. Starsky’s hands pressed tightly to Hutch’s bare back, and Hutch curled his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him close. He suddenly became aware of the way their groins molded together, and fuck, if he didn’t start getting hard. Aghast, he tried to wiggle backward, but Starsky still clutched him. Slowly the trembling abated, and the weight of his partner in his arms relaxed. Starsky pressed an affectionate kiss to Hutch’s shoulder, then another to his neck, then a less affectionate and more …something kiss higher up Hutch’s throat that had Hutch sucking air through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. What the hell was happening?
“S-starsky, are you …awake?” Hutch whispered tentatively, the snores from the other bed assuring him they hadn’t awakened their hosts.
“Of course I’m awake, dummy,” Starsky mumbled from Hutch’s neck where he alternately kissed and nibbled.
Hutch’s breath sped up along with his heartbeat. He was so hard, he felt the tip of his prick poking out of the slit of his boxers--Poking right against Starsky’s equally hard bulge. Hutch wanted to do something. Reciprocate somehow. But everything was so bizarre that he was afraid to move.
“Are you sure you’re …are you okay, Starsk? You had a bad dream,” Hutch tried, his hands trembling in their need to move just a few inches lower and cup Starsky’s delectable rear end. A rear end that had silently taunted Hutch for years.
Starsky pulled back and looked into Hutch’s face. “Oh my God,” he whispered, not unkindly. “For once in your life, just shut up. I’m okay. Stop worrying, will ya?”
Hutch opened his mouth to speak, and Starsky huffed impatiently before grasping Hutch’s neck with his right hand and pulling him in for a kiss.
Their mouths moved warmly together before Starsky opened his, letting his tongue slip out to touch Hutch’s lips. Hutch jolted as though shocked before tentatively parting his lips, allowing him entrance.
The feel of Starsky’s hot tongue in his mouth, sliding against his own tongue, undid Hutch, and with a muted growl, he pulled his partner closer as Hutch rolled onto his back and finally allowed his hands to roam where they wished. When Starsky began to rut against him, Hutch’s body exploded with a million sensations at once. He bucked back against the insistent bulge, his dick desperate for the friction.
Starsky’s breath became ragged, but they kissed on, devouring one another’s mouths in a desperate attempt to take in more. Starsky’s legs spread, his knees on the mattress on each side of Hutch as he rutted against him, causing Hutch to arch his back and meet his thrusts, crazy with need. He couldn’t believe it was all happening, and he was very aware of the two sleeping men in the next bed, but fuck he wanted his partner, and he wanted him now!
When he heard Starsky let out a sound suspiciously like a mewl and felt him stutter in his thrusting, Hutch let go and with one last desperate slide of his hips, came in his underwear.
Starsky lay limp on top of Hutch, and they both took long moments to get their breathing under control before shifting into more comfortable positions in the bed.
The last thing Hutch remembered before dropping off into an easy sleep was the feel of Starsky’s hand taking his and squeezing it reassuringly.
The next morning dawned bright and white. Hutch found himself alone in the bedroom, the sounds of men talking wafting from the kitchen along with the tantalizing smell of bacon. He slipped into the bathroom and washed off as best he could, slipping back into his clothing from the night before.
When he entered the kitchen, Starsky wordlessly stood and poured him a cup of coffee. Hutch gave him a smile.
“How do you like your eggs, Ken?” Jamie asked pleasantly, and as Hutch answered, he was struck by how normal it all felt, and he couldn’t help wondering if the events of the night previous had really happened at all.
Soon the plows were out and Starsky and Hutch were able to leave. They’d spent a pleasant morning with the two other couples, and Hutch had felt warm and a bit envious witnessing their interactions with one another, obviously so full of love and companionship. As he and Starsky climbed into the cab, he felt his partner’s hand on the small of his back and wondered what changes were in store for them. The look Starsky gave him as they settled into their seats and the cab pulled away from the curb told Hutch he wasn’t wrong in the supposition that there definitely would be big changes ahead.
The bright smile Hutch answered Starsky with relayed that he was more than ready for them.