You Can Take the Boy Out of Brooklyn

by Kerrys2Boys

Vanessa Hutchinson's reappearance into Hutch's life unsettles the two partners in more ways than they can anticipate. Vanessa's desperate bid to involve Starsky personally into her secret and dangerous activities plunges them both into a lethal nightmare and Starsky will be forced to revisit ghosts from his past. Hutchinson for Murder One Reboot in 2014. Slash S/H, Violence.

19. Chapter 19 - Final

Brooklyn Boy

Final Chapter

Hutch's cell phone buzzed just as the nurse was hanging his chart's clipboard back on the end of the bed. He picked up the phone and noted the caller. Looking at the nurse, he waited a few rings to answer it. He was giving her a pointed expression that meant he wanted privacy - damned if he was going to have a personal conversation yet again in front of another stranger.

"We're done here anyway," said the nurse. "I'll leave you in peace to take your call." She withdrew from the room, closing the door behind her.

"Starsk?"

"Hey there. You free to talk now or have you got someone with you?"

He welcomed the sound of Starsky's familiar voice in the quiet of the hospital room. It was the next best thing to having him near, even if Starsky was on the other side of the country in New York.

While Hutch was in the hospital, Starsky had arranged to have Nicky's body flown home. Although Starsky hadn't commented on it, Hutch knew that while making these difficult arrangements he also had to dodge the press. Journalists were hot on the scent of a good story involving an LA homicide detective and his dead brother. Since the dramatic arrest of the infamous Tony Durniak, they were determined to get some comment out of Starsky. Hutch had learned from the hospital staff that Starsky had left strict instructions to prevent reporters from getting near Hutch.

Starsky seemed to be holding the fort for the both of them while Hutch was recovering. While he fooled other people into thinking he had the situation in hand, Hutch knew differently. It was much harder than it seemed for Starsky.

Durniak's bullet meant he couldn't help Starsky at a time when he needed him most. The situation would be different if he'd been available to help his partner after the shootout. They always were there for each other following major events that left them shaken mentally if not physically.

"No. I can talk," Hutch said hurriedly. "Starsk, how are you? Is the funeral over? It'd be about five in New York now, so I guess it is."

"We left the cemetery over an hour ago and, yeah, we're back at the house," Starsky answered.

Hutch tried to catch his mood. Starsky sounded tentative. "I've been thinking of you all morning," Hutch said.

"I knew you would be," Starsky said. "I was going to call you earlier, but it just didn't seem appropriate till now."

"Of course. I didn't expect you to. How is your mother holding up?"

"Better than I thought she would be. She's a strong woman, Hutch."

"She's had to be strong over the years, Starsk. But she's got you, and I'm sure that's helped her through this."

"She's also got a strong community around her, which I'm pleased about. Right now there's a living room groaning to capacity with friends and relatives and more Jewish food than the whole of Brooklyn could manage to eat."

"I can imagine. I'll never forget that time you took me to your mother's place, and one of your father's sisters visited with that dessert – what was it? Ham –"

"You mean the Hamantash from Aunt Hannah." Starsky chuckled lightly. "Yep, I thought you were going to be sick after she plied you with the third serving."

"Don't remind me. It took a month for my blood sugar levels to drop back to normal!"

"Then you probably don't want to know that she's already told me she wants me to take a big batch home for you."

"Oh God help me…" In the background, Hutch could hear light street traffic. "Where are you? It doesn't sound like you're inside."

"No, I'm out on the street," Starsky said, slipping into a more serious tone. "I needed to take ten minutes, and I needed to talk to you."

Hutch had a mental picture of Starsky crouched slightly over, his hands cupped around a cigarette as he lit it. He really had hoped that Starsky would have slowed the habit down by now. Or, better yet even kicked it cold turkey. Still, he supposed if there were ever a time his partner needed a drag, it would be the day of his brother's funeral.

Maybe he had been quiet too long because Starsky's irritated sigh brought him back to the moment. "And no, I'm not."

"No, you're not what?" Hutch asked, surprised.

"I'm not out here sneaking a smoke behind Ma's back."

Hutch couldn't hold back a soft laugh. They knew each other too well. "Even if you were, I'd say enjoy it today while you can, because when you get home, I'm going to do serious battle with you over that dirty habit."

"You might have to talk to Ma about your first line of attack. She's done nothing but chase me down every time she sees me pat down my pockets. Even five blocks from her house, she'd smell it and hunt me down," Starsky said in a pained voice.

"Good. I'm glad to hear my favorite mother-in-law is looking after the most important man in my life." Hutch couldn't help having a fond smile for Mrs. Starsky.

"Likewise, she hasn't stopped asking after her son's favorite man. Even in the midst of Nicky's funeral, I swear she was worrying about you as much as she was me."

"Damn it, Starsky, I should be there with you."

Starsky took a breath as though struggling for patience. "Hutch, we went over this already. There's no way you were ready to leave the hospital to come with me."

"Well, that was up for debate –"

"One that the doc and I won so quit griping."

"Alright – it's too late now anyway, but make sure to tell your mother again, how much I wish I could have been there with you both today."

"Hutch –" Starsky sounded as though he was humoring him, "She got the picture after I described the performance you put on when I said you couldn't break out of the hospital to come with me. I got a smile out of her when I described the tantrum you threw when the doc backed me up."

"Maybe it was for the best that I wasn't able to make it there for the funeral. I was thinking about it after you left, Starsky. It might have been hard being with your mother with how things are between us now," Hutch said. "It might not have been the best time to disclose our relationship while she's coping with losing Nicky. There'll be a better time to tell her."

"I think she probably has a good idea about us anyway. Even though you aren't here, I get the feelin' that she's already figured out something's different. She's made a few comments. Looked at me in that way mother's do…"

"Yeah?"

"She can tell I'm missing you – needing you," Starsky said quietly.

It lit Hutch up inside to hear Starsky acknowledge the progression of their relationship. "And I'm missing you too, Starsk. Did it ever feel this bad when we were apart before?"

"Not quite in the same way as this time." Starsky's tone changed as he said it.

"I know," Hutch agreed softly, before changing the subject. "Seriously Starsk, how are you doing - I mean, really?"

"To be honest, I'm feeling better. The worst part is over. I was – dreading today. Not just for me, but for Ma, while wondering if I could let go enough of my resentment of Nicky to support Ma through it. She doesn't need to know about how things ended between Nicky and me."

"And how did you get through it?"

"I got through it by knowing you were there for me. Even though you weren't there physically, I felt you there. Feel you here now." The emotion in his words was strong.

"That's right, babe. I was there. Thinking of you every moment. And I'm here now. Thinking of you and waiting for you to come home to me."

"I know it sounds wrong, Hutch, but today in the synagogue – all I could think about was you. You and your touch." Starsky's voice pitched lower. "How you feel lying against me, on me... in me. The thought that I could have you again soon. It kept me going. I've become conditioned to it – to you, Hutch. Needing you when my world is upside down or fucked up. Only you can make it right again. Make it better."

Tears threatened in Hutch's eyes from Starsky's husky endorsement of his importance. "Starsky, please-" Hutch gripped the cell phone tightly, "-stop, will you? It's killing me that I can't put my arms around you."

Hutch could imagine Starsky smiling, happy that he'd been able to convey the intensity of his feelings to Hutch. "It's so fucking strong, isn't it, Hutch? Needing, wanting each other?"

"God, yes. Way too strong at the moment, babe." Hutch all but groaned into the phone, casting a furtive glance at the door as his shifted in the hospital bed, his groin tightening beneath the sheets.

"Just as well you're not here with me, Hutch. If you were… I don't think I could stop myself. God, if you were, do you know how much I'd wanna take you upstairs right this minute? Lie down beside you in that narrow bed I'm sleeping in, pull your long, warm body right up against me…."

"Would it be so wrong?" Hutch asked softly. "I could burn away all the pain you've felt in the last few days…"

"Burn? I'm burning up for you here on the sidewalk. I wonder if everyone livin' on this block can feel the heat coming out of me," Starsky said.

"Was it only two days ago you flew to New York, Starsk? Feels like a week. Like a month! I know your responsibility is to your family at a time like this, but God, selfishly I want you back."

"Just another few days, Hutch. Seems like a lifetime to me, too, but I gotta be here for Ma. She needs me to tie up everything for Nicky – his apartment, his finances – all his stuff. I'll get it all sorted. Then I'll be on the first plane back," Starsky said. "In the meantime, your job is to concentrate on getting healed. By the time you leave the hospital, you should be feeling a lot stronger."

That gave Hutch the opportunity to deliver his news. "I'm going home tomorrow." Hutch waited for Starsky's response.

"What? Tomorrow? Last I heard, the doctor talked about another two days –"

"Starsk, I'm ready to leave. I'm feeling fine. I'm moving around a lot more freely and only taking pain meds every six hours or so."

"And the doc approved this?" Starsky sounded dubious. "You didn't give him a hard time did you? Demanding to be discharged?"

"No, I didn't." Hutch rolled his eyes. "He agrees with the plan."

"But I'm not there for you. I won't be at home to watch you…."

"Starsky, it's all taken care of. Don't worry. You sort out your family business and be there for your mother. Huggy's going to pick me up and get me settled. I've already given him my keys so he can stock the kitchen."

"I don't like you being home by yourself, Hutch. Why can't you wait till I get back?"

"Starsky," he said impatiently, "cut it out. It's arranged. Stop worrying."

"I guess…" Starsky relented.

"I can't wait to get home to my own bed and get some undisturbed sleep. How are hospitals supposed to be places of recovery when I'm never left alone? There's a constant stream of traffic through my damn room."

"Maybe you're just everyone's favorite patient, blondie," Starsky said lightly. "You are kinda lovable."

A tap on the door interrupted Hutch's response. "And speaking of traffic –" Hutch sighed.

When the door opened, a physical therapist smiled, and asked if Hutch was ready for a session.

Hutch held the phone away from his ear. "I'll be with you in a second, Jeff."

"Jeff, eh?" Starsky said, obviously having heard. "A male nurse?"

"No, a physical therapist. Jeff's been helping me improve my mobility," Hutch told Starsky as he levered himself off the bed.

"Well, don't let Jeff work you over too much, blondie. I want you in one piece when I get my hands on you," Starsky joked seductively.

Hutch hoped the instant heat he felt spreading up his chest and neck was not obvious. "Don't you think it's time you went back inside?" Hutch admonished. "They'll be sending out a search party soon."

Starsky laughed, no doubt enjoying the effect he was having on Hutch. "Okay, I know I'm gettin' you all flustered. I can just see your face - I bet you're coloring up nicely."

"I – I've gotta go… Jeff's waiting for me," Hutch muttered, thankful Starsky's mood seemed lighter.

Starsky laughed. "Okay, but I want a call as soon as you get home from the hospital. Promise."

"I promise, now go." Hutch ended the call and tossed the phone on the bedside table.

Starsky decided to rent a beach house the morning after Nicky's funeral. He was enough of a pragmatist to believe that surrounding himself with the right environment could only help the healing process. He and Hutch needed something to help them transition into their new life after all their pain and loss. They'd been through so much, waited so long, and risked it all in the showdown with Durniak. Now it was time to give their fledgling romance quality time and space to grow. Starsky felt their partnership had already taken a back seat to everything else in their lives.

Located about four hours drive north of LA, south of San Jose, the bungalow fit the bill. The photos on the web page showed a house with a picturesque location on the beach, with steps down to the sand from the back deck. If the house were even half as good as portrayed, he'd be happy.

He wanted alone time with Hutch, with the rest of the world outside their inner private sanctuary. They needed this break before going back to their daily lives. The next few days were important to him. Important to Hutch. And it was crucial for their new relationship.

Starsky had left his Mustang (finally back from the police impound) at the airport in the parking garage. He planned to collect his bag, head up the coast directly from LAX, and hit the road for the beach. Of course, there was one problem with that plan. Hutch. The object of the planned trip at the beach house as yet had no idea what Starsky had in mind for them.

He wanted to wait until the day he flew out to spring his plan on Hutch. However, since he was scheduled to arrive in LA early in the afternoon, he soon realized his problem. Leaving the unveiling of his surprise until he boarded his plane meant, because of the time zone difference between LA and New York, he'd be calling Hutch at some ungodly hour in the morning. Still, he wanted Hutch to be ready so they could get to their destination before dark.

Considering Hutch's need for recuperative sleep, Starsky had waited until the last moment before his plane boarded to call and wake his partner.

Hutch's sleep filled mumble was barely intelligible. "Star – zat you?"

Starsky winced, instantly guilty for having disturbed his still-healing partner. "Sorry, babe, sorry. I hate to have to wake you. I know it's early there."

"Sum – sumthin' wrong?" Starsky caught the tinge of alarm in Hutch's voice.

"No, Hutch," Starsky said firmly. "Nothing's wrong, but I've gotta get on a flight in about five minutes and needed to speak to you."

"Oh? 'S'kay – was worried," Hutch sounded clearer as he roused himself. "But we – you called me last night. Told me you'd call when you landed –"

"Yeah, well, that was because I didn't want to tell you something till closer to the time."

"Oh, Starsk," Hutch's voice flattened, "you mean you can't come home yet… but…wait. That can't be right." He sounded clearer. "You said you were getting on the plane?"

"I am. I'm still coming home, and I'll be in LA after lunch-time just like I said in the text. Should hit your place, depending on traffic, around two pm at the latest. I want you ready and waiting with a packed bag."

"Good, because I've been looking forward to - " Hutch stopped, apparently registering what Starsky had said. "Wait? You want me to pack a bag? For you?"

Starsky laughed, loving the sound of Hutch's sleepy confusion, imagining his tousled blond hair and bleary blue eyes. "No, not for me, Blintz – for you. You won't need too much stuff. Just some casual clothes, a sweater or jacket for the night, throw in your sun screen lotion and swimming trunks – and - ah, damn it - that's right –" Starsky cursed, "mine, too, if you can find them, or a spare pair of yours if you can't - and – yeah, whatever book you're reading at the moment. Be ready to hit the road. We've got no time to waste, lover."

"Starsk?"

"You better water those green things of yours enough to last a few days and – well – no – on second thoughts it might be better if you can ask that nice neighbor of yours to take care of them just in case. I don't want the few you've got left dying after the rest got trashed when that guy ransacked your rooftop –"

"Starsky?"

"Yeah?" Starsky asked, breathless from his monologue and distracted by the announcements coming from the departure gate near him.

There was a small pause and Starsky could imagine the deep puckering in Hutch's brow as he tried to make sense of the conversation.

"What are you talking about?" Hutch sounded completely lost.

"I'll call you again when I leave LAX. You'll be clearer headed by then. Go back to sleep babe."

"Wait – but –"

"Gotta go – time to board. God, I can't wait to see you, babe."

"Starsk?"

"Yeah? Still here – just."

"Go. Don't miss that flight or I'll – I'll –"

"Or?"

Hutch's breath was heavy. All drowsiness was gone from his voice. "Just get on that fucking plane, will you?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Starsky said, the innuendo full of feeling as he ended the call.

He slipped the phone back in his pocket, picked up his carry-on bag, and made a dash for the gate. Within hours, he would be back in LA with Hutch. His smile was plastered all over his face.

The drive from LA up the coast seemed less than the four hours it took. Starsky put that down to the atmosphere between them.

Before he picked Hutch up, he'd resolved to keep their conversation light and neutral. He'd had enough of heavy for the past five days. Hoping Hutch would take his lead, he was pleased when he did. They discussed what Dobey had told them about Durniak's case, how Hutch's recovery had progressed, and how they planned to spend their time before going back to work.

As Starsky drove, Hutch used his cell phone to log onto the site where Starsky had booked the house. "It looks too good to be true, doesn't it?" Hutch said.

"Exactly what I thought when I was deciding whether to book it or go with a better-known hotel," Starsky said, keeping his eyes on the busy highway. "But I thought you'd prefer a small place away from the crowds."

"You got that right. Well, if it's half as good as it looks, we'll be lucky."

Their first view left them awestruck.

Starsky let out a whistle as his car crested the top of the sloping driveway. The drive swung around the front of a very private stucco house painted a soft blue with white trim. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the big glass windows and doors. "Holy shit," he said, "get a look at this place."

The sturdy house was perched on the shoreline, surrounded by native grasses and shrubs. There were other houses, but they were at a distance and shielded behind sloping, wide dunes. The house was blanketed from the sounds of traffic.

Using the instructions he'd received, Starsky located the keys in a coded box. He unlocked the front door and they walked in, stopping in their tracks to gape at the magnificent view. Across the room, the open floor plan showed them two large sliding glass doors framing glinting blue waves and miles of white sand.

Relieved he had hit the mark with the booking, Starsky did a quick tour of the house while Hutch headed toward the doors that opened onto the deck. Looking around inside, Starsky realized the web page undersold both the house and its location.

Hutch obviously agreed. "It's magic, Starsky. Simply perfect." Hutch's smile, as he stood on the wooden deck, was as dazzling as the ocean stretched out beyond him.

"It is, isn't it?" The simplistic beauty of the house stunned Starsky. He stood at the threshold of the double doors, scanning the living room, kitchen, and stretching coastline outside. "Wait until you see the master bedroom. It has a balcony with a staircase down to the beach."

"I'll go look when I can tear myself away from this view. God, it's lovely here. The beach goes for miles."

"Shame I couldn't have ridden my Ducati up here," Starsky said. He eyed Hutch for his reaction, keeping the smirk off his face. "The motorcycle would love these big open roads on the coastline. It'd be wild to open her engine up at top speed."

The look Hutch shot him was far from impressed. "And what was I s'posed to do while you were riding like the wind on your damn death-machine? Putter along behind you in the car?"

"Well, the bags would have been a problem…" A sheepish smile escaped when he said it. "Maybe another time when you're well enough to drive the distance."

"Count me out on any plans you have to use your Ducati to scream up and down coastlines. I only just got out of the hospital. I don't want to have to go back in for a nervous breakdown."

Starsky laughed. "I'm never going to get you to like it, am I?"

"Nope."

They leaned over the railing of the deck to admire the beach and the sound of pounding waves and rustling reeds. "So is this enough nature for you, country boy?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow after I get you up at dawn to do a five-mile walk along the beach." Hutch managed to keep a straight face as he said it.

Starsky moaned loudly. "You can't do that. You're an invalid remember? You should be taking it easy, not running all over the countryside."

"I did say walk not run, didn't I?" Hutch arched his eyebrow. "But, you've got a point. I can't go unsupervised. I could fade out half way. That means you'll have to come with me."

"Now wait a minute, this is meant to be a break. Gettin' up at dawn is not my –"

"Good, I knew you'd be up for it." Hutch clapped him vigorously on the back. "It'll be a great way to get those clogged up lungs of yours clear again. Lots of exertion and deep breathing to pink up all those tiny airways stained by toxic gas and starved of fresh oxygen. Rejuvenate yourself."

"Christ, Hutch," Starsky said, making a sound of disgust. "Did you really just say that?"

"Say what?" Hutch asked him, with such innocence Starsky wanted to flick his ear.

"That crap. That dribble that just came out of your mouth."

"You didn't like it?" Hutch pretended surprise.

"It sounded like a cross between an anti-smoking campaign and a Hallmark card."

"Get used to it." Hutch set his mouth in a hard line. "You'll be getting a lot more of it from me if you aren't serious about staying off cigarettes."

"I told you on the way up here, I haven't had one since Nicky's funeral, and I don't intend to. Smell for yourself." He leaned in sideways, close enough for Hutch to breathe him in.

Obligingly, Hutch made loud sniffing noises as he snuffled at Starsky's hair and collar. "Yes, I have to admit, there's more of your scent than tobacco…" Hutch breathed in deeply again, screwing up his nose theatrically. "Maybe a bit too much of you."

Starsky pulled back, affronted, tugging his shirt up to smell. "Cut it out. I do not stink. Even after sittin' cooped up for six hours in a flying sardine can with two hundred and fifty or so other sardines squished next to me."

Hutch obviously thought that was worth a chuckle and another exploratory smell. "I would have said more like five-day-old tuna sandwiches, not sardines."

"Now you're just asking for it, Blondie," Starsky growled as he jabbed his elbow lightly at Hutch's ribs. "If you weren't incapacitated, you'd be down by now."

Hutch smiled again and caught Starsky's elbow. He turned Starsky toward him, wrapping his arms around his neck, letting his forearms rest on his shoulders. He stopped smiling as his eyes turned serious. "I can't think of a better surprise than arranging this house for us. Thank you, Starsk."

Their banter dropped away. Starsky knew they could both feel a flush of anticipation.

Hutch moved first, uncertainty on his face as though he wasn't sure what to do or say next. "Well, what now? Unpack the car? Or do you want to explore the beach while it's still light enough? The car can wait, I suppose – there's nothing perishable until we stock up. I saw that small grocery beside the main road – we could go there – " Suddenly, Hutch stopped.

Starsky could tell he was trying too hard to fill the silence. "Neither," Starsky said decisively. "Before we do anything else, I need to get a few things off my chest." He frowned, trying to change the conversation to something more serious. "There are things I didn't deal with when you were shot. Then there was the funeral, and – being there for Ma. It was easier to leave it all that stuff alone till I found a better time to face it. Now, it's all still there. I need to move it aside to make room for us."

"Okay." Hutch sighed and waited.

"I wanted this time here with you to be just for us, Hutch. Not about anything else that's dominated our lives for the past weeks –just us."

"God, Starsk, I want that, too. So much," Hutch said.

"I know we can't pretend that what happened to Van and Nicky hasn't happened, and we can't forget about it. But, for these next few days, we need to focus on our relationship. To start on that, I need to clean up the space between us that's cluttered up with stuff in my head. Stuff about Nicky and me."

"Go on," Hutch encouraged him. "I'm listening." He pulled up a deck chair and sat down in the warm afternoon sun, waiting as Starsky mirrored his actions.

"I've been actin' like a hard ass since Nicky got - got killed. I suppose even before that – when I realized how he'd sold me out to Durniak. I know that. And everything you kept sayin' to me about not wanting to deal with it is true. You're right. I haven't wanted to talk about it."

"Do you want to tell me now?" Hutch asked with a concerned smile.

Starsky sat back and looked at his hands. "It was hard going home and facing Ma, knowing what I did about Nicky, about what he'd become, and what he'd done. Ma doesn't know a fraction of what he'd gotten up to in the last few years. Sure, she has some ideas about his lifestyle. Some worries and suspicions. But, I don't think she's wanted to look too closely. She's too tired and too old to face the truth about Nicky."

"That's understandable. What would be the point, anyway? Nick was hardly going to change."

"No – I don't think so. It was too late for him. He'd been heading down that path for years, ever since he'd first watched me show him how it was done."

Starsky could see that surprised Hutch. "You're nothing like Nicky. You and he were worlds apart."

"Not really. At least, not when we were both young. On my worst days, in my worst moments since Nicky was killed, I keep thinking that if it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have been in that position. Put himself into a life where it ended the way it did - with him bleeding out on the hangar floor. I feel like I showed him the way."

"Whoa, wait – wait, Starsky," Hutch leaned forward in his seat. "Back up and tell me how you reached this conclusion?"

"I led him to Tony Durniak," Starsky said. "Then I acted surprised and disgusted when he followed the trail I'd laid out for him."

"No, you didn't. You showed him that Tony Durniak was your enemy. You showed him that you didn't agree with Tony's ways or his philosophy," Hutch pointed out. "It was Joe you'd respected, not Tony. Nick would have seen that, known that."

"You know what I'm tryin' to say here –"

"Yes, I get the picture. Trouble is, Starsky; it's a picture you've created for yourself. I was there don't forget. Inside that hangar with him while you were outside with the two witnesses. I was right beside your brother when it happened. I heard and saw everything he did and said. You're not in my picture of Nick's murder at all, partner – "

"I'm not just talking about the moment Durniak shot Nick. Sure, you were there, Hutch. You were also there those last days when Nicky came to us and tried to wheedle his way into finding the missing drugs. But that's just the last scene of the play. Plenty of other things went on before you came into my life."

Starsky saw a flash of hurt on Hutch's face. "Doesn't matter." Hutch shook his head. "I know you."

"You know the 'me' you've always known. You didn't know the person I was before we became so much a part of each other's lives."

Hutch tipped his head back and looked at the roof of the house in frustration. "I think I know all of you, but I can see you're determined to prove me wrong."

"I mean, you didn't know me when I was young. A brash kid from Brooklyn who liked to hang 'round the worst parts of the neighborhood. A kid Joe Durniak took a shine to. I thought I was invincible. I thought I could rule my little world on the streets. Hold my own against the other punks, be somethin' – someone more than just a fatherless boy from a low income Jewish family. I liked to run with the crowd on the fringes of Joe's mob, dabble in their games and wield a little of their power."

"You've told me too many times how you pulled away from the corruption and violence. Are you trying to convince me that wasn't the case? That you supported the mob's methods?" Hutch demanded angrily. "If you are, don't expect me to believe it."

"No, I'm not saying that. Everything I told you before about how I worked to right a lot of the wrongs I saw getting done is true. Still, it didn't stop me hangin' around the whole scene for a few years. And I'm not proud of that."

"You never became one of them, Starsky. I know that. I know you." Hutch leaned closer to add emphasis.

"So you keep sayin'." Starsky frowned. "And as I keep sayin', you didn't know me back then. I liked the feelin' of power, Hutch, and I liked the money Joe's sidekicks could put in my hand. After Pa died, Ma needed that money, and I wanted to give it to her anyway I could get it. It gave me a certain amount of status in the 'hood, too, being successful even on a small scale. I liked that."

"Naturally. But how does that make you such a bad person? Any kid would feel the same with the opportunity to make some cash and look cool."

"That's true, but it doesn't change the fact that the whole time I was doin' it, I didn't pay attention to my kid brother. Ma expected it of me, and Pa would've, too. As the older brother, Nicky was my responsibility. Ma was out tryin' to make a livin' to feed and clothe us. She worked herself to the bone - and all she expected of me was to go to school and watch over Nicky."

"And you don't feel you did?"

"Only in a half-assed fashion. I was too busy carving out a place for myself in Joe's crowd. After Pa died, I had nothin' left, Hutch. I wanted something back. And Joe Durniak was there to lead me to the wrong track. All the time I was working out a niche for myself, Nicky was left with nothin' and no one. Ma was at work or tired and worn out, and Pa was dead. And me? I wasn't there, or didn't notice he was trailing around, watching me, takin' it all in. He idolized me, Hutch. I was his big brother, his protector. And what did I do? I fucked up his whole life."

"If Nick's life was fucked up, it was from his own doing, not yours, or anyone else's," Hutch said. "We determine our own behavior, Starsky. You know that. You've said it to me enough times before."

"It depends on what opportunities people get, too, Hutch. He took up the life I introduced him to. The kid had nothin' else to fill his life. And he wound up with Tony Durniak, a man who always hated me." Steepling his hands in front of his face, Starsky rested his forehead against his thumbs. "And it got him killed."

"You've been away from Nick and New York for a long time, Starsky," Hutch said calmly.

"Nicky watched me for years, his big brother, brushing shoulders with scum, running the streets, acting like some tough shit who could survive around them. After I left New York, he still got to hear about me - long after he'd seen me in action," Starsky argued.

"That's overstretching your influence by a hell of a long way. You're giving yourself too much credit for how Nick turned out."

"Nicky picked up where I'd left off when I came to LA, leaving him all alone. No wonder he thought he could do the same. He only wanted to prove to me that he was capable of making his own way. He'd always resented me for leaving. I know that."

"You were only a kid yourself when you left. Younger than he was when he started doing the bigger, shadier stuff. He made those choices as an adult, not a kid like you were."

"That doesn't matter. Nicky emulated me. I did a great job of showing him how to get into that life."

"He also saw you walk away and leave it behind you. You made a choice to turn your back on it, Starsky. Nick didn't."

"No, Hutch. I didn't walk away from it. I had no say in being sent away," Starsky said. "You know that. Ma and her brother made those decisions for me."

"I don't give a shit how it happened, Starsky. You still left it behind!" Hutch yelled, his frustration with Starsky growing. "LA was just another big city when you arrived, with as much potential for criminal activities and poor life choices as New York. You could've just as easily taken up where you left off in New York. But did you?"

"No, but –" Starsky started to say.

Hutch didn't give him a chance. "No, you didn't. You got your shit together instead. You finished school, enlisted, served in the Army, and decided to be a cop."

"Hutch –"

"Shut up," Hutch growled. "Let me finish." He growled again when Starsky smiled. "You became a cop. A damn fine cop, a fucking great cop. You got your Sergeant's stripes; you made detective, and you racked up an excellent record."

"Okay – I get –"

"Be quiet." Hutch jabbed his finger toward his partner. "You're nothing like the kid who left New York. And, you sure as hell don't have any responsibility for whatever your brother did with his life while you were making a success of yours."

Starsky started to open his mouth again, but Hutch cursed. "I thought I told you to shut up and let me finish-"

"You mean you haven't?" Starsky laughed. "I can't take much more of this flattery."

"I'm not trying to flatter you – though I mean everything I've said. I'm attempting to convince you of something you need to see. I know you've been walking around with this chunk of cold rock in your gut since Nick died. I thought it was because you didn't want to face the pain of what had happened to him. I didn't realize you've been sitting on a festering case of misguided guilt."

"I can't believe Nicky did what he did. That he went to Tony Durniak – to use me. It just showed me what a mess he had gotten into. You've always known what Nick was capable of doing. I just never faced it till that moment."

"In the end, Starsk, Nick did try to help you, remember?" Hutch reminded him. "He genuinely believed we were going to hand that meth to Durniak to get you off Van's murder charge. Despite whatever motivated him earlier, when he thought you were in danger of ruining your career, he chose to protect you."

Hutch stood and walked over to him, holding out his hand. "You showed him how to do that, partner. You taught your brother what it means to stand up for the ones you love. He'd seen it happen with the two of us. It made him jealous, I'm sure, but I think it also taught him what you valued. Trust and loyalty, qualities he knew were important to you. Your brother died knowing he'd fought for you."

Starsky reached to take Hutch's hand and stood to move into the circle of Hutch's arms. "If that's true, and I hope it is, he learned that not just from me, but from watching the two of us. You and me, Hutch, over the years."

Hutch nodded. "Nick made the decision to do that for you. You have to take comfort in that, and drop all that self-blame."

"While I'm letting that self-blame go…" Starsky started.

"Might as well confess now. Clear the air," said Hutch.

"I thought you were dead, Hutch. When I ran into that hangar, heard the gunshots, saw you and Nicky go down – I thought you were both dead. I couldn't have – I couldn't have gone on if Durniak had killed you. Is it wrong for me to think like that? I had to face it at the funeral – Nicky was dead, but I was so relieved that you hadn't died, too… Not, you Hutch…."

"How can it be wrong for you to love me? You didn't get to choose, Starsky. You didn't get to make a decision. Nicky died, and I lived. I could be feeling as bad as you do for being the one who lived. But I'm damned if I'm going to feel that way. All I feel is grateful and overjoyed. I get to live. I get to be with you."

Starsky felt something easing up inside him. Hutch was right. It wasn't as if Durniak gave him a choice – his brother or his partner. Nicky died because of his own actions.

Starsky looked out at the lengthening shadows across the beach, shaking his head. "This is pretty heavy stuff for a conversation on the deck of a beach house. Sort of ruins the ambiance, doesn't it?"

"We needed to get it out of the way," Hutch said. "You think you've managed?"

"Well, I think you've been doing most of the heavy lifting." Starsky smiled. "And in a debilitated state, only days out of the hospital. You shouldn't have been carrying anything except a beer and a book."

"Consider it therapy for both of us," Hutch said lightly. "Practice for what lies ahead before we can be cleared for work."

The mention of therapy made Starsky rub his forehead. The thought of it aggravated him. "Did you have to remind me? You know how much I hate doing that sort of stuff. I do better just talking to you. You're better than any shrink, Hutch, and a hell of a lot easier to open up to."

Hutch chuckled. "You wouldn't be biased, now, would you?"

"Maybe – just a little…"

"Until we get back to the city, let's not think about it."

"I'm sorry, Hutch - I didn't want to spoil things as soon as we arrived, and I think I might have with all this stuff."

"You haven't spoiled anything, Starsk. In fact, I feel better now that you've finally broached the things that were bothering you."

"Yeah, but you've got enough of your own issues to confront – losing Vanessa, just like I lost Nicky."

"Oh Starsk, my relationship with Van was different than yours with Nick. I came to terms with losing her long before she was killed. Of course, I was derailed by what happened to her, but I've faced those issues. Until just now, you hadn't been able to do that with Nick." Hutch looked at Starsky with a serious expression.

Standing close to his lover, Starsky rubbed his hand down the length of Hutch's arm. "Thanks for always being there for me."

"Hey," Hutch answered softly, his hand covering Starsky's like a warm blanket, "no problem. It's my favorite place to be."

"So?" Starsky cleared his throat. "You were saying before I detoured us into my private therapy session – what should we do now? Take a walk on the beach, unpack the car, drive out and get some provisions or –"

"None of those interest me right this moment," Hutch said quickly, sounding much like Starsky had when he'd said almost the same thing when they'd first arrived.

"What then?" Starsky asked curiously. "You want to go some place else around here before it gets dark?"

Hutch didn't answer straight away. Finally, he smiled. "No. I want to stay exactly where I am. I want to be in my favorite place."

The quiver he felt at the words became a jolt when Hutch took his face and framed it in his big hands.

"You mean-" Starsky swallowed, his belly clenching as Hutch's fingers moved around to caress his nape.

"That's right." Hutch pulled him closer. "I want to be with you, Starsk. Now that we're finally on the other side of this nightmare. Just you and me. I'm sorry, but I just can't wait any longer." The hold on Starsky became more insistent, his thumbs branding hot imprints beneath Starsky's jawline. "I'm – I'm aching for you."

"Damn – " Starsky could feel the instant response his body was making to Hutch's ferocious need. Still he hesitated, holding back a little. His hands touched the area around Hutch's wound. " But, your side? Is it –"

"I'm fine. It's healing well. What I've got in mind won't be any problem for me –"

"And what is it you've got in mind?" Starsky smiled as Hutch's hands began to move from below his neck and jawline to explore the open neckline of Starsky's loose shirt.

"Oh… for me to undress you slowly, to touch you soothingly, to lay beside you skin-to-skin so that I can feel you, inhale you, taste you…."

"I see…so nothin' too strenuous?" Starsky shifted uncomfortably as pressure built in his groin.

"You've heard of slow cooking, Starsk?"

"Huh? Well – yeah I guess –" Starsky stammered. Hutch's husky question had disarmed him in more ways than one. He was still learning the depth of his new lover's skills of seduction.

"Slow cooking takes time, Starsk. Lots and lots of time. And in the end, it creates sensual tastes and experiences in the mouth. So with us, being here now, totally alone, totally private, we've got a lot of time. I'm thinking of slow loving. No rush, no urgency, all the time in the world. We haven't had time yet to do any of that, have we? And this place by the sea seems like the ideal setting to do a lot of that together." Hutch's voice was as mellow as the afternoon glow around them and it was doing incredible things to Starsky's libido. "You like the sound of that, babe?"

"Oh God, yeah." Starsky enjoyed Hutch's mouth as it pushed aside his curls to nip gently at his earlobe. His own needs were mounting at an alarming rate and his body wanted more than gentle foreplay and slow loving moves.

Hutch, however, seemed to be setting a different pace, like warm, melting butter and honey coalescing on low heat. There was no rush to his actions, just languid sliding hands and moist lips moving over Starsky's skin.

Giving into Hutch's control, Starsky allowed himself to be walked backward through the deck's sliding doors into the house's interior. As Hutch guided him around a layout he wasn't familiar with, Starsky stumbled a few times against furniture he couldn't see. Each time, Hutch's steady grip righted him. In contrast to Starsky's heat, Hutch seemed to be the model of cool. Cool and calm and in control.

"Master bedroom? Left or right?" Hutch asked quietly, still keeping his grip on Starsky.

"Who cares? They've both got beds in them, and even if we end up in the single bedroom, or the bathroom, it'll be fine by –"

"Bed. I want a bed. A big wide bed." Hutch punctuated his needs by stopping in a doorway and grazing his teeth like tiny needles over Starsky's bared neck. "I need to lie down beside you. To hold you," Hutch said, choosing a doorway and propelling them both inside. He nudged Starsky backward some more, still suckling on his neck.

By the time the back of Starsky's legs made contact with the mattress, Hutch had made good progress on loosening Starsky's shirt from his waistband. Hutch eased him back on the soft, wide bed, the sheets cool and smooth with the scent of fresh laundering. It was the perfect backdrop to Hutch's slow, seductive moves.

"First these," Hutch pulled Starsky's casual loafers off and tossed them to the side of the room before returning his energies to Starsky's shirt. "Now this." With careful precision, Hutch pealed the unbuttoned shirt away from his chest, pushing the fabric to the edge of his shoulders, laying the bare skin open to him. He paused only long enough to gift Starsky with a smile so beautiful that beneath it Starsky swore he could actually feel the warmth of its radiating heat. But, under the warmth there was something else in the light blue eyes above him. Perhaps a touch of sadness? .

Starsky lifted his hand to touch the generous curve of Hutch's lips. "What ya' thinkin' in that beautiful head of yours, blondie?"

When Hutch sighed, Starsky knew he had sensed it correctly. "All the while I was in the hospital, I thought about when I might be able to do this with you. I was so damn angry that I was laid up and couldn't be there for you, with you. Just like this. To hold you and kiss you, to love you the way I've been wanting to love you." He ran his thumbs beneath Starsky's eyes, along the top of his cheekbones. "I remember when we stood outside the hangar, before we knocked to be let in. You looked at me with those dark eyes, Starsk, and told me –"

"Told you that I loved you," Starsky finished, taking Hutch's hand and kissing the palm. "I remember. I remember how I felt at that moment."

"At that moment and all the other moments before we've charged into something dangerous." Hutch watched him carefully as he spoke. "That night, though, for the first time, it felt so much more frightening. Because of what we'd finally admitted to one another. I know that's what you were thinking when you looked at me and said it."

Starsky nodded. "It hit me, standing there. Outside that hangar. Just how much more we have to lose, how much more we've got on the line."

"And then I went and got shot, Nicky got killed, and – I never got to be with you after it was all over like I'd been waiting to be."

"What would I do if I had lost you that night, Hutch?" Starsky whispered against Hutch's cheek.

"You didn't lose me. I'm here now. I'm with you and I'm going to love you the way I've wanted to since the day I met you, Starsk. Will you let me have that?"

"Christ, yes. I –" The words were lost when Hutch's mouth descended on his to take it in a slow possessive kiss. The contact was soft and gentle, Hutch's lips pressing against his own, caressing more than plundering, no insistence, no urgency. For long moments, Starsky was lost in the depths of the sensation.

Hutch raised his head just a little. "Let me love you, Starsk, like I wanted to after that terrible night was behind us. Like it's our first time and we've got all the time in the world to enjoy it."

The unbuttoned shirt was removed first; with Starsky lifting a little for Hutch to pull it from his shoulders and back. Dipping his head to Starsky's bared shoulders, Hutch covered each one in series of kisses before moving more centrally toward his chest hair. Hutch busied himself at each nipple, dividing equal time between the two stiffened nubs, twirling his tongue slowly through the coating of thick hair.

When the soft lapping tongue on his nipples was replaced by tiny bites, Starsky was unable to suppress squeaks of pleasure interlaced with little shafts of exquisite pain. "Damn – damn!" He squirmed beneath Hutch's grasp, driven to escape the sensations, but at the same time compelled to get more of them.

"You want me to stop?" Hutch looked up, a little amused.

"No – God, no. Just not sure whether I love it or hate it. But I want more of it."

Hutch's eyes took on a heavy look. "Then I'll give you as much as you want, babe. I'm going to make it my business to know every part of your body and how each part reacts to my touch."

Starsky's hand automatically reached down to slide between the place where Hutch's pelvis pressed down on his. But Hutch quickly and deftly returned Starsky's hand to its place, pinned down firmly by Hutch's own insistent hand. "Uh – uh. Slow, remember."

"Not so sure I can wait, Hutch."

"You'll just have to. I'll make you wait. I'll make us both wait."

He pulled back smoothly, only far enough to get his fingers on the button of Starsky's jeans and then his zippered fly. "I want you naked now, babe. Want your body laid out for me."

Frenzied enough by Hutch's deep tone, Starsky had to try hard not to rush the slow, graceful dance of Hutch divesting him of his jeans, then shirt. Lying as he was, spread out on the sheet and wearing nothing but his snug-fitting briefs, Starsky burned with anticipation. The depth and quality of Hutch's penetrating gaze made him feel vulnerable, but oddly, also more powerful. "I love the way you're looking at me right now, babe. It's like your eyes are telling me how much you – you –"

"How hungry I am for you. I'm hungry for you, Starsky. I'm starving for you," Hutch finished for him and Starsky felt his libido soar. When Hutch's eyes zeroed in on his growing hardness, Starsky shamelessly tilted his pelvis upwards, further accentuating the heavy mound beneath his briefs.

In the quiet room, it was impossible to miss the sharp intake of Hutch's breath as he brought both hands down to cup Starsky's bulky mound, pressing it lightly before stroking it firmly. Starsky found the hot friction through his briefs an incredible turn on, but it was nothing to how he felt when Hutch's hands disappeared beneath the elasticized cotton band. When Hutch's fingers grazed the top of his cockhead, Starsky nearly jackknifed off the bed.

Hutch's long fingers burrowed beneath the soft fabric to capture the full weight of Starsky's balls and erection in their grasp. The feel of fresh air on his genitals and the press of the elastic across his hot penis told Starsky that his insistent erection was trying to free itself of its entrapment. Hutch seemed more than willing to help release it, peeling off and discarding the briefs. Even the second that took him had Starsky whimpering for the loss of Hutch's touch.

"Beautiful." Hutch looked down at his hands cradling Starsky's erection, his face glowing in appreciation. "Beautiful and all for me to enjoy."

As Hutch's stroking picked up tempo, Starsky's own hands grappled on Hutch's forearms. When he contacted the thick bands of muscle, he sank his fingers in hard, translating to Hutch a fraction of the intensity he was feeling. Waves of pleasure undulated through his thighs and pelvis. "Hutch. Hutch. Get naked will ya? Just the way you're looking at me is going to get me off if you don't hurry up."

"No hurry, Starsk. We've got all the time we want."

"Not if I can't wait –" he gasped out, pressed his willful cock even harder into Hutch's magic hands. "It's been – too long – I need –"

"You need what, babe?"

"You. I need you, Hutch."

"You've got me. Never going away. Never, babe." Hutch's voice was cream and cinnamon, comfort and love. But his strong hands were busy sending other messages to Starsky's groin and brain. Nothing soft about them. Each sweep of the big palm and long fingers over Starsky's sensitive flesh was like a branding iron of fire, lust and sex. He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream with sexual excitement or get misty eyed with the emotion that Hutch could so effortlessly bring out in him.

"Then how about you start proving that by lettin' me at your body," Starsky said, tugging urgently on his lover's shirttail. "Come on, babe, I want to feel you against me. This ain't fair – denying me like this."

Hutch shook his head, scowling a little at him in false reprimand. "One of these days, Starsk, I'm going to get you to delay gratification." But he looked far from disapproving as he quickly stood up and began shedding his clothes.

Trying to calm his searing sex down, Starsky concentrated on watching Hutch undress. Now it was his turn for some serious visual appreciation as Hutch's leanly muscled body was revealed as his divested clothes slid to the floor. "Why delay enjoying something you just promised me I'll always have. Not like I'm goin' to use it all up. Got you whenever I want you, haven't I?"

Hutch, finally all naked and sleek, crawled back onto the bed toward Starsky. "Yes, whenever and however." Bracing himself above Starsky, Hutch was being careful as he lowered his weight gradually onto the body beneath him.

Even though he did, Starsky sucked in against the quick shock of the still new sensation of having the solidity of a male body on top of him. It was all still so new and different, thrilling and yet daunting.

Hutch was already fully aroused. Just as hard and ready as Starsky. The physical evidence that his lover wanted him so badly made Starsky even hotter and harder.

"Slow, hey?" Starsky grinned as he savored the full view of Hutch's engorged cock. He held his hand, just hovering over the big erection. "Nothing about this part of your body says we're going slow here." Taking his own turn to tease and excite, he swept one finger down the impressive expanded shaft. He thrilled again at the immediate groan and jump his touch elicited.

Hutch cursed once, caught Starsky's hand in his yet again, and shifted his body so that he lay next to Starsky and not on top of him. "Ah Starsk, you know I can't resist you. Never could." He said it as he brought his mouth down on Starsky's, greedily seeking entry with his tongue. The kiss was deep and grinding, and mirrored almost exactly the same movements Hutch's crotch was making against his own. Finally, Hutch came up for air and Starsky licked at the taste of him still on his lips while he continued to rub his cock hard against the concrete rigidity of Hutch's.

Lying face to face, their bodies were so close that Starsky could feel every bit of Hutch's damp skin against his own as their body hair rasped across each others' flesh, and their moist cocks slipped over their thighs and bellies. Transfixed by the lustful wanting in Hutch's beautiful eyes, Starsky felt as though their crystal clear color was guiding his core toward some exquisite end point. Only Hutch held the power to take him to that point.

"Hutch?" he managed, his plea quivering in that one word.

His answer came in the form of Hutch's broad palm. It wrapped right around his need and Hutch's own erection too, engulfing the two columns of rigid flesh side by side. The big palm, calloused in some places, smooth in others, formed a sensually textured tunnel for the two pulsing erections. The press of Starsky's cock against his lover's, skin on skin, throbbing heartbeat on heartbeat, all jammed inside a warm, tight hand was agonizing ecstasy.

Gliding his palm back and forth, Hutch was making sure that they both received the same sensual input. Alongside him, Hutch tensed and arched in synch with him, their breaths labored and shallow. They traded guttural sounds and words of hot desire – some intelligible, others just snatches of broken syllables.

Their frenzied sounds and ruptured cries were cut off when Hutch's lips closed over Starsky's mouth. But even during the kiss, Hutch still made noise. His desperate animal groans drove Starsky crazy, spurring him toward his own end. Just as Starsky felt himself teetering on the edge, he felt Hutch shudder violently beside him.

"I'm so close – Starsk!" Hutch tore his mouth free of their open-mouthed kiss to call out.

The tortured cry of his name as his partner writhed against him was too much for Starsky. No way did he think he could hold it back. Then, there was an unexpected wash of warmth and wetness, which he realized hadn't come from him. Hutch had come first, but, even in the after throes of his ejaculation, he selflessly kept stroking Starsky's cock. Only a moment separated the timing of their orgasms as Starsky quickly plummeted over the edge to join him in his own thundering climax.

Several long ragged gulps of air later, Starsky rolled to the side. As the final aftershocks wracked his body, Starsky waited for lethargy to wash over him.

Beside him, Hutch panted heavily against Starsky's shoulder.

Starsky levered up on one elbow and looked down at his spent partner. Hutch was opening and closing his eyes in rapid succession, squeezing them tight and then opening them wide like he was trying to make sense of his awareness.

Stunned. Wiped out. Starsky knew what Hutch was experiencing. Well versed in the after effects of a great orgasm – this one had been momentous for both of them he was sure. Hutch was struggling to come back to earth and as Starsky watched, his lover's expression changed from dazed to floating. Deep now in his own post coital bliss, Starsky loved the sight of his big tough partner equally mellow and soft.

"Holdin' a big gun ain't the only thing that hand of yours is good at," Starsky joked, trying to bring enough life to his own boneless limb to reach toward Hutch's face. Instead, his muscle-fatigued arm gave up well short of its target, smacking down on Hutch's damp chest. He decided it was a good as place as any to leave it.

"My hand was custom fit just for you." Hutch smiled, his face relaxing.

"Sorta like Cinderella," Starsky mused dreamily and didn't have the energy to explain why. He didn't have to. Hutch would work it out. He always did when it came to Starsky's oblique thought processes.

Hutch rolled to face Starsky, the gentlest of smiles curving his mouth. He held up his fingers in front of his own face, examining it lazily. "Except I hope it's a lot more comfortable than a glass shoe," Hutch said, proving that he had indeed "got it", even though he looked on the verge of falling asleep.

If possible, Starsky loved him just a little more for that. "Oh yeah, that's for sure." Starsky seized the offered hand and pressed it to his chest. "And, a whole lot more fun than a stupid slipper."

Hutch's eyes were closing.

Starsky gave the hand still draped across his chest a gentle caress. "So Hutch?"

No answer. Just a squirm as Hutch buried deeper against the mattress.

"I guess that makes you the Prince."

Hutch didn't answer.

Definitely asleep, Starsky thought.

The afternoon light was disappearing, the room cooling. Starsky snagged the bedclothes and pulled them loosely over them. Hutch was already snoring softly when Starsky rolled in closer to press his face into the feather-soft blond hair. Sleep was close for him too, but he wanted to savor the moment before he fell into it. Lying as he was with the scent and feel of Hutch up close and in his personal space, Starsky recognized this feeling. For the first time in months, maybe years, he was finally adrift in a sense of perfect calm and self-contentment. He nuzzled even closer to Hutch's sleeping body, feeling happy, feeling fulfilled.

"Thank you, Hutch," he whispered and then, just because it put a smile on his face to say it, and Hutch was not awake to rag him about it, he added softly, "my Prince."

Starsky's Apartment, Santa Monica. A month later

"I'd forgotten how long a normal work day is. God, I'm beat." Hutch pulled off his jacket, unclipped his holster and dropped onto the sofa so he could remove his boots. He threw a scowling glance at Starsky, who was in the kitchen pulling beers from the fridge. "And look at you – fresh as a daisy. No one could guess you'd just pulled a twelve-hour shift."

"That's because I actually enjoyed the chance to do my job again instead of sitting opposite a shrink or being cross-examined by another pin-striped IA suit. The past weeks have been filled with one too many tell-me-about-it-Detective-Starsky scenes. I'm just glad to be an overworked, underpaid cop again. Not a freakin' subject to be analyzed."

"Now, that's a surprise. I would have never guessed being processed by IA and the department psychologist wasn't high on your list of favorite things to do," Hutch said with a poker face, still extricating his foot from his boot. "As for me, I'm wondering why I hassled the doctor into clearing me for regular duty a week earlier than he wanted to."

"Not goin' to say I told you so." Starsky slammed the fridge door with his foot.

"Yeah, well, I thought I was ready. I didn't think we'd pull overtime on the first day." Hutch tugged at the second boot.

"Oh, no. Stubborn Hutchinson wanted to push it all the way," Starsky admonished as walked over with drinks in hand. He smacked Hutch's hands away from his boot and shoved a cold beer into his grasp instead. He put his own beer on the coffee table as he gripped Hutch's booted foot. "Why you insist on wearing these cowboy boots, I'll never know."

"They're not cowboy boots," Hutch said wearily, since he had said the same thing to Starsky countless times before.

"So you keep tellin' me. But they are. All you need are a set of spiky spurs and a pair of chaps to go with them and – " Starsky grunted as he gave a sharp tug to free Hutch's foot from the boot. "There. I'm sure that's better. Uncomfortable and impractical..."

"Actually they're very comfortable and practical," Hutch insisted, trying not to let his moan of relief sound too obvious.

Starsky's smiled. "And very good to have off. Don't think I can't see that, Blondie." Snagging his beer, Starsky moved to the opposite end of the sofa and patted his knees. "You wanna foot rub? Might as well take it. Offer runs out soon."

"You mean there's a time limit on it?"

"Well, tomorrow, it will be six-weeks since your surgery – so you'll be officially out of the recovering invalid period." Starsky said it with all seriousness as he drank some beer.

"Damn – if that's the case, then I'm going to cash in now." Hutch pulled a cushion behind him as he lay down and settled back while Starsky went to work on his feet. Making room on the sofa to spread his legs out straight, he picked up his boots and tossed them off to the side. As he turned to throw the boots, Hutch's eyes were drawn to the new rug where they landed with a quiet thud.

He hadn't even noticed it before, but at that moment, tired and a little twitchy from his first difficult day back at work, he suddenly remembered the other rug that had been there before. The rug Starsky had had to replace because- And suddenly, Hutch felt more than fatigue. The cheery rug seemed to suck him into a dark place.

Starsky must have followed his gaze. He gave Hutch's foot a firm squeeze as if to bring him back into the room. "Hey? You okay? Look at me."

Hutch shook his head to refocus his mood and downed a big swallow of beer to ease the constriction in his throat. "I'm sorry. Sorry it happened here in your own home, Starsky."

"And I'm sorry I couldn't save her," Starsky said, echoing Hutch's tone, sounding as though he was just as reluctant to go there again. "Seems like a long time ago now. So much went wrong in such a short time," Starsky said in a hollow voice. "I thought about selling the place while it was closed for the crime scene, but – hell – no. I'm not giving it up. I love this place, love being across from the ocean, love the big windows and the airiness of this room. I won't give it up."

"If you're comfortable here, that's all that matters. You can make new memories. Better ones, happier ones," Hutch said sincerely. "I'd like to think we could make some of those good memories together."

"I like the sound of that." Starsky brightened. "Starting now. Starting tonight." Visibly happier, Starsky put his beer aside and went back to massaging Hutch's feet.

"Starting with my feet?" Hutch chuckled. "Great."

Giving Hutch a devilish look, Starsky slid his hands from his feet to the back of his calves, kneading them deeply as he moved up toward his thighs.

"Well, so far you're heading in the right direction." Hutch let his head fall back on the cushion and hummed with pleasure. "We can see where this goes."

"Now, that's the best idea you've had since I took your boots off, cowboy."

Hutch scratched at his face frowning to himself. Something had nudged in his memory. "I seem to recall something about another one of your shoe fantasies?"

"Huh? What d'ya mean by that?" Starsky looked perplexed.

Hutch clicked his fingers. "Oh yeah – the glass slipper thing."

"Oh that? When my – well my – " Starsky grinned like a schoolboy, waggling his eyebrows at Hutch's hand before looking down toward the region of his crotch, "ah, impressive manhood, fitted perfectly into your hand. Just like Cinderella's foot in her glass slipper."

Not surprisingly Hutch felt his fatigue lifting. Starsky's playful sexual innuendo was just what he needed to re-energize him. "Cinderella, eh? Well that's a long way from cowboy boots and spurs." Hutch chuckled. "You've got a wide range of imagination, Starsk, I'll give you that."

"I read that it's important to diversify when it comes to sexual fantasies. Keeps the spice in relationships and fights unhealthy boredom and tedium in the bedroom."

"Boredom and tedium? Jeez, Starsky, we've only been lovers for a couple of months."

"We can't afford to get complacent about this stuff, Hutch." Starsky's face was poker straight.

It left Hutch feeling a little unsettled. Seriously? Is this how Starsky's thinking already?

"You can't be –" Hutch started, then stopped abruptly, cursing when he saw Starsky's face break out in huge grin. "Bastard. Had me worried there for a moment." Hutch poked him hard in the ribs with his toe. "I was thinking you might already be planning of trading me in for a newer model."

"Nah, you'll do for a few more miles yet, blondie – or should I say, cowboy?"

"Okay – pard-ner," Hutch drawled in his best spaghetti western accent. "You want to fixate on the western fantasy, then how about you take off my chaps as well and see where that gets us?"

Starsky chortled.

Hutch tipped his head and dug his toe into Starsky's belly. "You going to share what's got you so amused?"

"Well – I just had a mental picture of you dressed in cowboy boots and spurs and a set of chaps – and ahh – nothin' else." Starsky continued to grin.

"You mean no jeans? No pants? Oww."

"You're gettin' the idea – bare-assed rider."

"Sounds like it'd be painful when I jumped astride the horse." Hutch winced, bringing his hand down to cover his groin as if to shield it.

"Lucky horse –" Starsky's voice dropped in timbre as he watched Hutch's hand settle between his legs. "All that bare skin against his back, all that power in your legs pressing around him. All that friction. All that sliding back and forth – "

"So damn sensitive. I can almost feel it." Hutch let his legs fall apart and his hand moved from covering his groin to cupping his balls and cock. His eyes flickered down to his hand, then back up to Starsky's eyes. Blatantly provocative. Unmistakably suggestive.

Starsky turned from sitting sideways on the couch so he could face Hutch, his expression growing crafty. Drawing his legs into a crouch, he sat momentarily above Hutch, his thighs spread, before dropping to kneel astride Hutch's legs.

Hutch could feel Starsky's excitement kicking in, a perfect match to his own racing pulse. The sight and the feel of Starsky crouching over him made his blood rush.

"What does it feel like?" Starsky asked. "Tell me, Hutch. How does it feel to have your cock and balls pressed hard against a horse moving beneath you, rubbing and rocking, back and forth along your sensitive flesh?" Starsky moved up until his inner thighs were pressing against Hutch's outer ones, pinioning his legs.

Hutch swallowed against the pressure as Starsky gripped Hutch's hips, pressing his thumbs against the fabric on either side of Hutch's fly. He pushed his thumbs deeper, massaging the muscle beneath. Hutch jumped, and Starsky smiled like a cat with a toy.

"Does it hurt or does it sorta feel good at the same time?"

"It – it feels –" Hutch choked, his eyes begging Starsky to do more. Inviting him, enticing him, he tried to splay his legs wider, but couldn't. He bit his lower lip. He could feel his cock already straining for release from its zippered confines.

"Tell me, cowboy – I wanna' hear. I get off on hearing. I get off on watching you tell me, watching you twist and writhe… Tell me what you want. Tell me what your cock wants."

"It feels like it's burning. The friction, it's painfully beautiful. I feel like I might - like I need to rock too, to release the sensation."

"Let me see. Maybe I can help. Maybe I can make it feel better," Starsky offered seductively. "Do you trust me to make you feel better, cowboy?"

"Yes!" Hutch cried. "Look – please, help me. The burning – it's too much. The pressure – oh God – hurry, Starsk." Hutch bucked upwards in a violent shove and his energy and growl of need seemed to excite Starsky.

"Let me get this belt off you," Starsky said. "Free you up." He made short work of unbuckling Hutch's belt, releasing the top button of his jeans before sliding the zipper down.

Hutch lifted up a little to help Starsky pull Hutch's pants and belt down to the top of Hutch's thighs.

"Better?" Starsky asked.

"A little. It's still burning though, still feels hot – so hot."

"What feels hot, Hutch? Tell me."

"My cock. It's on fire."

"You're on fire everywhere, Hutch. I can feel it all over you." The fingers that scrabbled at Hutch's shirt buttons were less controlled than the ones that had worked on his pants. Hutch could feel Starsky's bulging mound beneath the denim each time it brushed against his belly or upper thighs.

Once Hutch's shirt opened, Starsky pushed it to either side of his chest. He spent a moment running his hands over Hutch's bare, sweat-moistened skin before returning his attention to Hutch's genitals. Just the way Starsky studied the taut fabric of Hutch's underwear and the outlined erection beneath was enough to have Hutch oozing wetness from his swollen cockhead. When Starsky traced his fingers over his jutting length, touching the small wet patch that was spreading, Hutch cried out.

"You're wet, cowboy, and getting wetter. You having dirty thoughts about me looking down at you like this? Does it make your cock weep more when I touch you like this?" He pushed Hutch's thighs apart roughly, as far as the narrow width of the couch would allow. "I think it's the way I'm looking at you that's making you wet and grind like a wild thing. Looking is powerful, isn't it, Hutch? Show me everything you've got."

Getting rougher with each move, Starsky pulled away the soft fabric of Hutch's underwear. Suddenly freed, the full extent of Hutch's erection sprang up to slap against his belly. Starsky's eyes turned greedy with lust. "Big, aren't you, cowboy? Real big. Wonder what you can do with this monster? Wonder what it likes to have done to it?"

"Fuck, Starsky – fuck." Hutch began to buck in earnest.

"Well, naturally there's fucking." Starsky grinned wolfishly. "But how exactly does it like to fuck, I'm wondering? And what exactly can it do for me?"

"It likes just about anything you can offer, and it can do whatever you want it to do," Hutch promised breathlessly. He'd promise anything, sell out his own mother, if only Starsky would do more to him than drive him insane with his cock teasing.

"Big words – but then it's a big cock. Impressive. I wouldn't have known a quiet cowboy like you would be hiding such a beauty. Should have told me earlier." Starsky was in the thick of the fantasy, his facial expressions and voice deep in the role-play. "Should have made you show me earlier."

"You should have looked for yourself," Hutch challenged with a sudden gust of bravado. He was all for moving this little sex play to the next scene.

"There's something you should know about me, cowboy," Starsky said, sounding like he was leading to something dangerous, like the role he was projecting.

"There is?" Hutch didn't have to pretend to look cornered by the man crouching over him; he felt it.

"I want to taste your cock before I use it." Starsky said it roguishly, and followed by sliding his tongue across his lips, then stroked his finger up the length of Hutch's penis.

"Oh – oh – hell…God…" Hutch felt as if his groin was on fire.

"Calm down, cowboy. You're getting too excited too fast. You gonna lie still like a good boy and let me taste your cock?"

"I'll – try." Hutch really didn't think he could, but he'd die trying.

"I don't want to have to hold you down. But I'm hungry to taste you, and when I'm hungry for cock – especially one as beautiful as yours - I can get pretty rough." Starsky winked before tapping Hutch on the chest. "You're not going to fight me or buck me off?"

"No…no – I mean, yes. I won't buck," Hutch whispered, aching, his cock twitching as if begging for Starsky's mouth.

"You think I can take this big boy in? More than a mouthful, more than a throatful, ain't it?"

"I – yes – yes, you'll be able to. I've – I've seen you in action before."

Starsky laughed when Hutch slipped from his role. "Well, if you've seen me in action, cowboy, you know what to expect." And then he licked his lips, while still hesitating.

"Please." Hutch's cry sounded pitiful as Starsky brought his mouth down to engulf his length.

Helpless to stop, Hutch's hips bucked upwards to force more of his cock deeper into Starsky's mouth. When Starsky pulled his mouth off immediately, Hutch bit his lip with guilt. "I couldn't help it. I know you said I had to stay still and take it, but I –"

"You sure don't have a lot of resolve, do you, cowboy?" Starsky scowled, and Hutch could tell he was enjoying his controlling role. "One deep suck and you're mine. You're moving your hips like some wanton whore."

"I'll try harder to stay still this time. Just give me –"

"I'll let you in on a secret."

"What?" Hutch's voice was ragged. He had to get some relief for his aching cock. Starsky was too damn good at this sex role-playing. He could stretch it out and play it to the max, where Hutch just kept losing his way.

"I actually like it when you lose it like that. You want to fuck my mouth? Come on then, cowboy. Come on. But first let me get all of this off you so I can get to you." He hiked Hutch's pelvis up from the sofa, pulling at his jeans, yanking them off his legs and tossing them to the side.

While he did, Hutch, half crazed with need, made his own demands. "Starsk, take your pants off, too. I want to see you and feel you brushing over me…" His hands went for the button fastening Starsky's low riding jeans.

"No – no, later," Starsky ground out, sounding determined. He peeled away Hutch's hands and pressed them down on either side of the couch. "I'm so hot now, I'll come all over you in seconds if you touch me. This is my game, Hutch. I get to ride you later. Now I want you to fuck my mouth, and we'll both be happy."

He pushed Hutch backward and, kneeling close to Hutch's pelvis, Starsky lifted his lover's long legs up, placing one over each of his shoulders so that Hutch's cock pressed against his belly. Snagging a cushion from the floor, he jammed it behind Hutch's lower back, propping him higher. "Now, watch me swallow you whole. Watch yourself fuck my mouth like I know you want to." Starsky spread Hutch's buttocks, exposing his anus. Thumbing Hutch's dripping slit, he lubricated his fingers generously with the viscous fluid, rubbing them together for Hutch to see.

Without warning, Starsky plunged two fingers deep inside Hutch's hole.

Hutch had only a second to jump and cry out before a swell of hot swirling pleasure surpassed the unexpected pain. Starsky's mouth closed over his cock like a vacuum as his fingers slid past the anal muscle to explore and probe deeper to find more responsive tissue. Obviously turned on by dominating Hutch, Starsky was thrusting as Hutch grabbed roughly at his hair and rocked into his sucking mouth. The sounds of Starsky getting off from what Hutch was doing to his mouth was, for Hutch, like pouring gasoline on a fire. Starsky's excitement had his own nerve endings screaming. He closed his eyes to intensify the pleasure, wanting to draw it out.

Hutch cursed as Starsky's fingers massaged in tandem with his mouth's action on Hutch's cock. Losing himself in the fever of the moment, he released Starsky's head before he tore his hair out. "So good, babe. I love it. I love your mouth, Starsk. I love fucking your mouth. I – fuck –– too good, – too much. Fuck me with your hand – yeah… I'm going to – don't want to – but- ohh…please – please – Starsk – babe - "

His whimpers became cries, which became yelling, then ended in a burst of howling glory. "Now! I'm coming now, Starsky, I've got to –" It was a clear warning but Starsky didn't stop, keeping his mouth in place. Hutch yelled again and tried to pull out, but Starsky held firm. Losing the last vestiges of his control, Hutch jerked, his head arched up and he emptied himself into Starsky's willing mouth.

It was a while before Hutch could catch his breath as Starsky swallowed. "I wish you didn't make me to do that, Starsk."

"What? You gonna tell me you don't like me drinking you down?"

"You know I do. I love you for it, too. But –" Hutch frowned, wiping away dots of semen spattering Starsky's chin. "One day it might not be safe – if one of us gets injured at work, knifed or infected by a perp's blood…"

"All maybe's." Starsky argued as he made a grab for Hutch's fingers and licked them off. "Hey, that's mine. Waste not, want not."

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"As long as I made you as happy as I made myself, I don't care what names you call me."

Hutch chuckled. Filled with contentment, he ruffled Starsky's curls. "Happy is hardly the word I'd use for how you make me feel. Jesus, Starsk, that was mind-blowing – and cock-blowing." He grinned.

"You made a joke! And it was sort of funny. In a dirty sort of way." Starsky rolled his eyes before rolling off the sofa. Standing, he looked at Hutch. "You're lying there like some golden, fair haired maiden who's just been thoroughly worked over by her prince."

"What happened to me being the guileless cowboy whose dick you just blew away?"

"Oh – shit. That's right." Starsky grinned. "Forgot which fantasy I was in." He crinkled his nose, "Actually, come to think of it, you smell a little too much like sex and sweat to be a fair maiden. Far more suited to the cowboy fantasy."

"Me? What about yourself?" Hutch's hand shot out, making a playful grab at Starsky's belt. "Not as fresh as a daisy as when we first walked in here, are you? All sweaty and hot."

"Point taken. You did get me awfully riled up, cowboy. There's nothing like watching you go to pieces when you climax to get me steamed up. You're so beautiful when you scream out like you do and beg me to do more and more."

Hutch felt himself blush. Starsky never got tired of making him feel self conscious with his racy talk. He sat up clumsily and covered his limp cock with his jeans from the floor.

"Bit late now to go all modest on me." Starsky laughed and slapped his bare ass lightly. "I think your virtue was in tatters weeks ago, boy. Might as well let it all hang out for me to enjoy."

"Did I tell you already that you're incorrigible?"

"Yeah, you did, but you also called me a cock-blowing master – so it evens out," Starsky called from the fridge where he retrieved two beers.

Hutch had to drop the clothes he held against his crotch when Starsky tossed the bottle to him.

"Now replenish your fluids, and let's hit the shower for Act Two of Urban Cowboy – cowboy."

They took their own sweet time in the shower, washing each other thoroughly. Starsky's sexual appetite was growing as he struggled against his urge to pull Hutch against him and gratify himself. More than once, he had to close his eyes against the sight of Hutch's long naked body, but nothing could stop the excruciating sensations he felt when he ran his hands over Hutch's wet skin as trails of water slid down his lover's smooth chest and belly.

Never ceasing to impress Starsky with his prowess, Hutch was showing signs that his sexual reserves were already restored. When Hutch pulled Starsky under the spray with him, Starsky's hand found his lover's erection.

"I'm trying to hold out here, Hutch, and barely managing to do that. But feeling you hard like this again so soon - it makes it so difficult not to –" Giving in to his urges, he pivoted Hutch around, pulling Hutch's hips against his groin to rub his aching cock between Hutch's cheeks. "Damn it, Hutch!" Starsky reached up and shut off the taps with a smack, then, pulling down a towel from the rack, he threw it at Hutch, who looked surprised.

"What's wrong?" Hutch caught the towel, looking like he'd been reprimanded.

"You're what's wrong. Your beautiful body, your face, the way you look at me, your touch – that's what's wrong. But, in particular, your iron-clad cock is what's wrong. Do me a favor and cover up that body for a while, will ya? I'd like to make it to the bedroom this time."

He grabbed a towel for himself and stepped out of the shower, shaking out a burst of water droplets from his unruly hair.

Looking almost contrite, Hutch tucked the towel around his waist obligingly. When the front of the towel instantly tented despite the weight of the thick fabric, he looked at the offending sight and bit his lower lip like a guilty child. "I can't help it if it wants you again so quickly."

Starsky used his towel on his hair and grinned, his stern act gone as quickly as it had come. "That's the trouble, babe. I want it as much as it wants me. I just want to last long enough to enjoy it." Unable to resist, he took the mound of tented terrycloth in his hand and squeezed it lightly.

Hutch flinched and jumped back from the unexpected tease.

Starsky laughed and walked away, leaving Hutch hissing in the bathroom. "I'm goin' to prepare the bedroom for the next act before I rip that towel off you."

Luckily, they both managed to make it to the bedroom this time. Starsky distracted himself by opening the doors to let in the sound of the pounding waves from the beach.

Hutch padded out from the bathroom behind him. "I never realized how loud the surf was here," he said when Starsky threw the big doors open to the night air.

"That's because you rarely stay here," Starsky shrugged. "We always seem to hang out at Venice Place for some reason."

Hutch went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and lay down. "Used to it, I guess. I've been there longer. But now I know you've got this background sound…"Hutch watched Starsky as he moved about the room, never dropping his gaze from Starsky's naked form.

"You lusting after me, Hutchinson?"

"Surely am, partner. Like you said. You're all mine and I can lust after you as much and as long as my – ah – heart desires."

"Ha!" Starsky moved over to his digital receiver, flagrantly running his hands through the hair on his chest – a move he knew turned up Hutch's heat – not that Hutch looked like he needed any more encouragement. "Judging from that towel, it's more than your heart that's getting desire."

"Huh? Oh." Hutch looked down at his groin as though he was surprised he still wore the towel. He made quick work of tugging it free and letting it slide off the bed.

Watching Hutch's naked form, Starsky moved to dim the lights. Muting the lights seemed to accentuate the rumble of the surf and the fluttering breeze billowed the drapes with each rush of air.

"The sound of the waves, dimmed lights, and a gentle sea breeze? You trying to romance me, babe?" Hutch asked. He was stretched out on the bed.

The mellow light emphasized Hutch's long-limbed body, making it the centerpiece of the room. Starsky stood near the open door, the curtains brushing against his naked skin, the sight of his lover like a splendid offering. Silently, he basked in the ambiance. It didn't get much better than this.

"Is it working?" Starsky asked huskily, his cock doubling its efforts to be noticed.

"Christ, yes." Hutch looked brazenly at Starsky's solid erection. "But I don't think it's got a lot to do with the ocean and lighting, Starsk, as much as just having you near me, looking like you do in that moonlit doorway."

"Now who's being romantic? I could say the same about you, babe, with that golden body all naked and desirable – and God, so ready to go again. You either find me incredibly sexy or else you've been swallowing Viagra on the sly."

"Definitely the former. Just looking at you, hell, just thinking about you, makes me as hard as steel," Hutch said, rubbing his hand up and down his shaft.

He held out his arms as Starsky walked toward him and crawled slowly onto the bed. "I want that steel in my hands when I drive my own rod deep into your gorgeous ass. You ready for me, babe, because I don't think I can hold out much longer."

"You know I'm ready. Aching with my need for you."

Starsky leaned toward the bedroom nightstand. "Let me just…"

Hutch caught him about the waist as he did and pulled him on top of him, chest to chest, his clean-shaven face nuzzling into Starsky's still damp chest hair. "No need. Already primed – ready for the steel."

"Always prepared, aren't you, babe? Just like a boy scout."

"Sea scout, remember?" Hutch quipped, pulling Starsky against more closely to him.

The warmth of Hutch's body, his familiar lines as he gripped Starsky close, the steady beat of his heart, the soft brush of his lips over Starsky's cheeks and neck, his baby soft hair tickling Starsky's nose filled Starsky with such an overwhelming fondness he wanted to cry from joy.

In the shadowed light of his bedroom, Starsky appraised his lover's body objectively. Lean and lightly muscled, Hutch moved beside him with agility and masculine grace. His partner, his lover was his equal in every way.

"Hutch, I'm so…" What Starsky felt inside him threatened to choke off all meaningful speech. But he needed to say it. Before the sexual fervor swallowed them both. "Do you know I imagined you like this – so many times – just like you are now?" Starsky looked at Hutch. "The night you called me after Van left and you were so upset – remember?"

Hutch closed his eyes, showing he did.

"I had that woman with me? Lydia. I was in bed with her, Hutch, and couldn't remember her name. That's because I was thinking of you. It was you in my bed, you I was making love to – not her. I did that for a long time with different women over the months – hell, over the years if I'm honest. I'd close my eyes and imagine it was real. That you were real and I was making love to you."

"Well, it's real now, babe." Hutch lifted his hand to stroke Starsky's face. "I'm real and I'm here with you. No more imagining. No more dreaming – for either of us."

"I wished I had the words to tell you how much I want you, Hutch. How much I love you…"

"Show me, Starsk. Show me now."

"That I can do," Starsky promised.

He lowered his mouth, hot and insistent, to plunder Hutch's. The kiss was rough and hot, sliding from Hutch's mouth down his neck, then nipping at his ear lobe. "Turn over for me, babe, turn over now. Gonna love you hard."

Hutch arched against him provocatively before rolling over, spreading his legs wide for his lover. Lamplight shimmered off the glistening trail of moisture that oozed from his opening. Unable to resist, Starsky dipped his fingers in, probing at the entry with just enough pressure to have Hutch's hips bucking against his hand. Hutch's body electrified Starsky's senses, driving the blood to his cock and pitching his lust to a fever point. He needed to claim it.

In the soft light, Hutch's sleek back was a living sculpture, polished and flawless. Starsky marveled at the smooth contours as he swept his hands down Hutch's long spine. Rising over his lover, Starsky pressed his thumbs into the indention at the small of Hutch's back before following the curve up and over the muscular cheeks of his ass. He repeated the motion several times, mesmerized by the sensation in his fingertips and the reaction he elicited in Hutch who writhed beneath his touch. His massage quickened, his actions more urgent, harder, rougher. Hutch sobbed with excitement, becoming increasingly guttural as Starsky's fingers spread the globes of his ass. As he did, he delivered sharp nipping kisses on Hutch's tender skin.

When Hutch's moans intensified, Starsky pulled Hutch closer so forcibly Hutch's ass slapped against Starsky's lower belly, both men grunting from the action. Grinding Starsky's pelvis against Hutch's ass, Starsky stiffened as his hard shaft slid against Hutch's lubricated crack, dancing near his small dark hole.

Hutch called to him, begging him to plunge into his tight muscle. "I'm ready for you, Starsk… come on. Fuck me. Now. Give me what you've been teasing me with all night."

"Not sure I can do this slowly, babe. I'm almost ready to blow." Starsky was asking permission to do what his cock was screaming for.

"Just give it to me, will you!"

Starsky plunged in, his cock sinking in three quarters of its length before he steadied himself. The shocked pleasure strangled in his throat then shuddered out on Hutch's gasped name. "Oh God, Hutch, Oh God – I couldn't hold back."

Hutch barely flinched against the sensory assault except to cry out Starsky's name. He wrapped one hand around his own erection, his long-limbed body damp with sweat. He pushed against Starsky's groin, impaling himself further onto the rigid pole buried half way inside him.

"Want more of you, babe… more…" Hutch hissed as he slicked up his long cock with his own pre-cum.

The feel of Hutch stroking himself was too much for Starsky to take. Part of him wanted to pull his lover's hand away and claim the prize for himself again, but he was too turned on by hearing Hutch moan from being taken in the rear while enjoying his own rhythmic jerks.

"Take more…take more of me." Starsky's thrusts were more urgent now, his fingers biting deep into Hutch's skin. "Take all of me, Hutch." He sank all the way in; almost losing himself to the climax that was building in him with each thrust.

Sensing Hutch was also getting closer to his own climax, Starsky pulled back, pumping slowly to maximize Hutch's pleasure. Swear words rushed from Hutch in a stream as he bucked and jolted beneath Starsky's weight. Hutch's jet of semen suddenly pulsed against the bed as Hutch stroked himself dry.

Starsky took one more agonizing thrust, pulling himself out enough to look down at his slicked length buried half way inside Hutch. In that one suspended moment, Starsky reached the pinnacle of pleasure. The added visual input of his cock inside his lover's body tipped him into overload. Sucking a huge lungful of air, Starsky closed his eyes and rammed forward with all the force his body needed.

Skin to skin, joined as one, Starsky felt fused in mind and body with his lover and best friend. "This is us, Hutch. You're mine and I'm yours."

His one last final powerful thrust claimed ownership of the body beneath him. Ownership and belonging. He called out Hutch's name as he climaxed inside his lover, shouting out his extreme joy and fulfillment, but the promises he murmured against Hutch's neck were soft, filled with love and caring.

Promises for both of them.

Promises to last a lifetime.

THE END

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

NO...It's the end, really!

Post-Script.

"Starsky. Tell me please. Are we done? Really are we done?"

"I sure as hell hope so, Hutch. Let's hit the Mustang and get out of here now before she changes her mind and wants us to do another sex scene. My cock is fried."

"Forget the Mustang. I'm even prepared to get on that Ducati if it'll move us out of this apartment before she gets back from her coffee break and finds us still here."

"The Ducati? Jesus Hutch, you must be really desperate to cut out of here."

"You're not wrong there buddy. If we stay any longer here, we're going to be both seventy by the time she's finished with us."

" Jesus, Hutch, I thought this story was meant to be set in the here and now….wasn't it called 'Starsky and Hutch, Present Tense' or something like that?"

"That's right, Starsk. It's just that it started in 2014 and the writer still had us on the case till now - 2024."

"2024! You serious? No wonder you look – and feel – (off stage….furious stream of whispering…. Oh my God Hutch, look at those saggy balls between your legs! When did they happen?) ten years older than when Vanessa got killed."

"You think my saggy balls look old, Starsky, then have you caught a look at the writer, that Aussie woman? You think we've aged! Hell – she looks worse than that ten-day-old corpse we snagged as a homicide case last week. The one behind the dumpster, remember?"

"Come to think of it, you're right, Hutch. Those eyes? All flat and dead like. Must be from staring at the computer screen."

"And her hands, Starsky? See them? All her fingers are gnarled up? From the keyboard and repetitive strain injury no doubt. Eewww…"

"Damn it, Hutch. If that's what writing does to you, I don't want you goin' ahead with that idea you had for writing a story based on one of our cases. It's bad enough having to move aside your saggy balls while we're fuckin' without me having to deal with a dead-eyed, cripple-handed lover who can't get his fingers in where I want them to go."

"You don't have to convince me, Starsk. I'm ditching the idea of writing my memoirs and sticking to being a cop with my favorite partner."

"Ooooohhhhhh, Hutch. Come here and give me a feel of those old balls….."