Other Fan Fiction ❯ Frustration ❯ Frustration ( Chapter 1 )

Frustration

By Cheyenne Dancer

The rumble of the Torino's engine was overloud in the frigid silence of the interior. Starsky, white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel, couldn't help but keep glancing over towards Hutch. He put a curb on his own anger and frustration as he took in the wan features of his partner.

Hutch was glowering, pale brows drawn down across his nose, deep lines etched to either side of his mouth. He looked exhausted, haggard. More haggard than he had when Starsky had had to rush him to the hospital a month ago. Hutch was leaning against the window, blue eyes ostensibly focused on the scenery whipping past in rhythm with the thump of the tires as they hit another pothole.

Starsky had the feeling that Hutch was blind to his surroundings. Hutch hadn't made one comment about Starsky's driving, not even when he had squealed around the corner nearly on two wheels as he directed the car towards Venice Place. Hutch had the look of someone doing some serious soul searching and not too happy with what he was finding in the shadows of his psyche.

Starsky didn't know what was wrong with Hutch, but something undoubtedly was. Definitely wrong. He couldn't shake the fear that he had given himself away to Hutch, somehow. His stomach clutched convulsively. Even as his body reacted, he denied it. No. If he'd given himself away to Hutch, Hutch wouldn't try to get himself killed. Might kill Starsky. But not himself.

Hutch had been cold over the past week, maybe even the past month, ever since Hutch had gotten out of the hospital. And he seemed to be withdrawing even further.

Hutch had either snubbed Starsky or made glib snide comments ever since he had gotten back on the streets. Hutch was working himself into a fine snit, and it seemed to Starsky that he was becoming increasingly suicidal. Taking stupid, uncalled-for risks. The partnership seemed more in danger than when Gunther had tried to separate them, permanently.

Starsky felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. And today just took the cake. He couldn't believe Hutch had done something so foolhardy. Starsky shot Hutch another look out of the corner of his eye. Hutch was here, still alive. And still his, so far. Small miracles be thanked.

"What?" Hutch's irritated voice shattered the strained silence.

"What did you think you were doin' back there, huh, Hutch?" //Oh. That was brilliant, Davey, boy. Start a fight. Maybe that'll clear the air.//

"Nothing." Hutch's voice had a ring of finality to it and he turned to renew his inspection of the passing terrain.

Starsky growled to himself, feeling the knot tighten. "Ya coulda fooled me! You coulda been killed!"

"I'm alive. You're alive. We're both alive. What more could you want?" Hutch finished with a strange bitter calm, refusing to look at Starsky.

Starsky didn't quite hear what Hutch mumbled under his breath as he brought the Torino into a braking park next to the curb, wheels squealing protest as the car skittered and bucked coming parallel to the sidewalk.

The silence was thick and muddied as it swirled about them. Starsky gazing straight ahead, half-afraid of looking over at Hutch and seeing the cold stranger that sat in his partner's seat. Hutch still staring blindly out the side window.

Starsky thought the steering wheel might crumble to dust in the grip of his hands. He swallowed once, twice before trying again, "Look, Hutch, we gotta talk... "

"No."

"Fine. Want some company? Ya need to unwind. Talk about what happened. Talk about what goes in the report, about what we're gonna tell Dobey." //And talk about what-the-fuck is wrong with you and damn if I won't make you. Dammitall, Hutch, talkin' is supposed to be what you're good at!//

"No."

Anger, frustration and desperation warred inside him, the knot coiling and uncoiling in the pit of his belly. Fuck knot. It was a goddamned anaconda strangling him from the inside out. He worked hard at keeping his voice even. "Wanna pizza? Beer? Ya need to eat."

Starsky was proud of himself, sure that not even Hutch could hear the fear that was hidden behind his calm facade. Of course, when Hutch was finally straightened out, Starsky would have to think of some reason for the ten dents in the steering wheel, but he'd wait to worry about that when Hutch was himself again, instead of this brooding pod person some asshole had saddled Starsky with.

"Give it a rest, Starsky." Hutch was out of the car before Starsky could say anything more, long lean legs taking him across the walk and up the stairs to his apartment in a determined stride. As if he was running. Running from Starsky.

Starsky sat stunned. Not liking the feeling as he watched Hutch disappear into the stairwell. Disappear out of his life if he wasn't careful. He couldn't shake the feeling. Something had to happen. And fast. Or Hutch would be gone. Or dead.

"Not if I can help it!" Starsky slammed out of the car, careless of his precious Torino, as he raced up the steps. It felt as if Hutch had left a trail of ice in the stairwell; Starsky ignored the chill that tickled the back of his neck and jigged down his spine. Fingers nimbly searched the frame of the doorway, he located Hutch's spare key and let himself in.

Starsky could hear the shower pounding against the tile in the next room. He prowled restlessly between the sofa and the kitchen area, glancing towards the bathroom, waiting impatiently for Hutch to appear. He yanked open the fridge and pulled out a beer, popping the top and chugging the cold liquid. He leaned back against the edge of the sink, narrowed eyes watching the doorway.

A few minutes later, the sounds of water hitting tile stopped. He could hear Hutch's quiet curses, movement and a few minutes later Hutch filled the doorframe and stopped, lips thinning as Hutch noted Starsky's presence.

Starsky took a few seconds to contemplate his partner frozen there, light behind Hutch making him glow like an avenging angel.

Damp blonde hair stuck up in a disarray from where Hutch had been rubbing it dry, giving him a golly-gosh-gee Minnesota school boy look, a damp towel hung around the wide shoulders. Water trickled down Hutch's chest to the opening of his unbuttoned jeans, slung low about slender hips, pale gold hair shadowing his barely visible groin. His own groin tightened and he caught his breath.

He blinked, remembered to breathe and let his gaze wander back up the long, lean muscled torso, to lock, finally, reluctantly onto the simmering gaze directed at him by Hutch.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Starsky?"

Starsky took a deep breath, chin lifted in unconscious challenge as he counted to ten. //Bet Blondie, here, didn't think I ever listened to him about controllin' my temper.// "I thought you could use the company."

Hutch took a few steps into the room, detouring toward the sofa, keeping it between them. "I told you I wanted to be alone."

Starsky ignored the cold anger directed at him, instead plastering his most charming smile across his face, feeling it stretch his rubbery features and knowing, somehow that it wasn't quite convincing anyone. "No. You said you didn't want pizza or a beer."

"Dammit, Starsk. You're not listening to me."

"I would if you would say somethin'!"

"There's nothing to say."

Something in Starsky boiled. He stalked around the edge of the couch, confronting Hutch. So close that he could feel the damp heat radiating off of his partner. "The hell there ain't! What the fuck did you think you were doin', huh? Answer me that, Hutch!"

Hutch's hands clenched and it looked as if he had to forcefully relax them from the tight fists they were balled into. He turned his back on Starsky, walked into the kitchen, and pulled out a Coors Lite. He twisted open the top, ignoring the furious man standing in his living room.

Starsk followed him like an angry pit bull, refusing to be ignored. He grabbed Hutch, swinging him around by his upper arm in a grip that would leave bruises.

Hutch shrugged him off, backing away. "I said 'leave it', Starsk."

"No. We're settlin' this here and now."

"This isn't some shootout at the OK corral. There's nothing to say. Nothing to settle. I've talked. You can leave. Now."

"No! You, you broke procedure back there! You fell into the hands of a perp and you nearly fucking walked into a bullet! I'd say there was a lot to settle, not the least of which is why you've been acting like such a fucking Prima Donna... "

Hutch threw his beer against the wall, the shattering brown glass a counterpoint to the restrained violence and frustration electrifying the air between them. "Fuck you, David Starsky!"

Something inside Starsky shattered. The knot of anger and frustration uncurled and he slammed his empty beer can down on the counter. He pushed up into Hutch's space, grabbing the slightly taller man by his upper arms, he glared at Hutch, ignoring the smoldering flames in his partner's eyes.

"I've just about had enough of this, Hutchinson. And I'm tellin' you now, I ain't givin' up you or this partnership without a fight. You will tell me what the fuck is going on in that fuckin' tar pit you call a mind and we will fucking clear the air."

"Get-the-hell-out." Hutch's jaw clenched, he looked furious as he yanked back from Starsky's grip.

"Fine." Starsky wheeled as if heading toward the door, then feinted, before Hutch was aware of what was going on, Starsky had spun, doing a back sweep with his right leg, hitting Hutch square behind his knees causing his legs to fold.

Before Hutch could scramble up, 180 pounds of Starsky smashed against him sending them both tumbling to the floor. Both men dismissed the sound of the coffee table overturning sending files, odd papers and porcelain crashing to the floor.

Starsky ignored Hutch's curses as he rolled, ending up on top of Hutch with Hutch face down against the floor. With grim determination, Starsky grabbed one of Hutch's flailing wrists, forcing it back to the small of his back. He whipped the cuffs from his back pocket, fastening one bracelet.

With long time practice, Starsky grabbed the other arm, twisting it back inexorably, feeling the small bones of Hutch's wrist grind against each other in his grip as Hutch tried to free himself.

"God dammit! Stop! Starsk!" There was a slightly panicked sound to Hutch's voice that failed to penetrate the roiling waves of fury that swept through Starsky. Starsky wanted answers, and damned if he wouldn't get them one way or another.

He fastened the final circle of steel, the snick seeming to reverberate through their panted breaths and broken curses.

Hutch froze. It seemed as if Hutch couldn't believe that Starsky had handcuffed him. Some stray part of Starsky that wasn't still raging at Hutch's betrayal couldn't believe he had done it, either.

Then Hutch went wild, bucking and twisting in an attempt to dislodge Starsky. Starsky jumped back hauling Hutch up by the cuffs.

"What're you doing? Fuck! Ow! Dammit!" Hutch wavered to his feet and was shoved towards the sofa.

"Now, we're gonna get to the bottom of all of this."

Starsky sat on the old worn sofa, yanking Hutch across his lap. Hutch squirmed and fought. Starsky ignored the illicit thrill that swept through him at having Hutch across his lap half-naked.

With rough hands, Starsky seized the top of Hutch's jeans, yanking them down to his knees, effectively hobbling him. Starsky hooked one leg around Hutch's ankles, making sure that Hutch's cock and balls fell safely between Starsky's spread thighs. A wave of heat washed through Starsky that had very little to do with his anger. He resolutely pushed those thoughts aside. One problem at a time.

"My uncle used to tell me that when I got too uppity I was never too old to get spanked." Starsky's voice was a furious growl.

Hutch's breathing hitched and he went rigid. "Starsky, let me go. This isn't funny."

"Ain't supposed to be funny Hutch. Ya gonna act like a kid. I'm gonna treat you like one. Maybe knock some sense into that pea brain of yours!"

Starsky raised his hand and brought it down with a resounding smack against Hutch's upraised ass, a reddened print showed almost immediately on the pale flesh.

"FUCK! Starsky, I'm not a child! Stop this now!" Hutch flailed, raising his head at an awkward angle to glare daggers at Starsky.

"That's not what I want to hear, Hutch. Ya better come up with somethin' better'n that."

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

"How about start with th' fuckin' truth and let's go from there, huh, buddy?"

Hutch set his jaw, and attempted to twist his body from Starsky's grip. "Let me up. There's nothing... STARSKY!" Hutch yelped as Starsky swung again, kicked trying to free his legs, but the jeans and Starsky's leg hampered Hutch's struggle for freedom.

Starsky grimaced, shook his head and pressed a callused palm against the back of Hutch's neck forcing Hutch's face against the sofa cushions so that Hutch was largely immobile across his lap. Starsky swung again, leaving another large print against Hutch's pale backside.

"OW! FUCK! GODDAMMIT STARSKY! That HURT! Let me go! If I get my hands on you, you are DEAD! You hear that, partner?" Hutch gasped as Starsky brought his hand down again, hard against the unprotected cheeks.

Starsky turned off the threats, concentrating on holding his writhing partner and peppering the tight backside with a variety of slaps. Starsky ignored the sensations of warmth that trilled through him as his partner's firm body wriggled against him. He felt seared by the touch of his palm against the slowly reddening buttocks, branded by the soft slap of Hutch's balls as he jounced across his thighs in time with each heavy handed smack.

God, if only there was another reason he had Hutch across his lap! He started at the top of the buttocks where the cheeks dimpled and worked methodically down, his other hand pressed firmly against Hutch's neck, holding him down. It wasn't long before Hutch had stopped cursing, heaving in deep breaths as if he was fighting a losing battle.

Hutch's once fair butt was now fiery red from top to bottom, even the tops of his thighs showing the print of Starsky's hand. Starsky thought he could almost feel the heat radiating from the abused flesh.

Starsky wasn't sure what brought him out of his rage. Whether it was the shuddering of his partner's body, the soft gasps, the fact that the ass presented to him almost appeared to raise with each downswing, as if inviting the next blow or the suddenly iron-hard dick trying to drill a hole into Starsky's thigh.

Maybe it was the shock of identifying those soft, heartbreaking gasps. Hutch was crying. Dammit. What the fuck was going on? Starsky didn't want to hurt Hutch. He just didn't want to lose him!

Or it could have been the shock of his own reaction to dominating Hutch.

Starsky felt hot, heavy, like an electrical storm was on the horizon. He was charged, his own cock throbbing against the tight denim of worn jeans. Suddenly everything had changed.

Starsky swallowed.

Starsky sat still for a few minutes, noticing how large his hand seemed against Hutch's slender waist as he started rubbing soothing circles along Hutch's spine. "Hutch?"

Starsky suddenly found it hard to breathe. All Hutch's lean gold elegance leashed and vulnerable to Starsky's will. Desire hit him so powerful it had a choke-hold on Starsky's throat.

Starsky continued rubbing Hutch's back. He found he couldn't disregard the feelings that Hutch's vulnerability engendered in him. Hutch's strength leashed, at his command, trembling across Starsky's lap, Hutch's erection pressed undeniably against his thigh, burning heat like a branding iron, searing him, tilting his world.

Starsky wanted Hutch. Wanted to own him. Love him. Protect him. Wanted to plunder that deliciously presented ass patterned with his - his - handprints. Wanted to lick and kiss and soothe every mark with his tongue. Wanted to follow the heated musky scent of Hutch until Starsky was lapping at the entrance to Hutch's body until Hutch was screaming, begging him to take him. Wanted to mount him and claim him as his--belonging only to Starsky.

Starsky cautiously smoothed his hand lower across Hutch's back, detouring around the still bound hands to the heated cheeks presented to him. He caressed the soft flesh gently, watching the shudders shake Hutch's body. "Hu-utch?" His voice broke, trailing off in a whispered hush. Hope warring with common sense.

Starsky spread his hand across the reddened curve of Hutch's ass in unconscious ownership. His fingers lightly brushed the shadowed cleft.

Hutch tried to move, to get up from Starsky's lap. Starsky pushed Hutch back down. "No, babe. No. It's alright. Stay there. I'm gonna take care of you. Shhhh... everything's gonna be okay." Starsky crooned softly, emotions thickening his voice. He kept up the litany, soft sweet words of nonsense and promise husked in a whiskey sweet voice gentling his frightened partner much as he would some wild creature caught in a trap.

Hutch stilled beneath his hand, except for the quiet hitching breaths which seemed beyond him to control. Still, placid. Deep like the lake. Hutch was always thinking, feeling much more than he let on.

Starsky knew he had to keep Hutch from thinking, from coming up with reasons why this shouldn't-couldn't happen. Starsky continued to croon, "Shhh. Shhh. Babe. Don't fret so. So good. Know I would never hurt ya, gonna keep you safe... Make you feel good.

He tickled down the crack, fingers feathering teasingly over the ridged flesh between balls and ass. An incessant fire of demand leapt within him. He wanted Hutch. Badly. "Tell me to stop, babe. Tell me this isn't what's wrong, huh?"

The blond head still buried amongst the cushion shook in negation, though he refused to look up. Starsky thought he could see a faint flush race down the bared neck and touch Hutch's shoulders, a pallid reflection of the rosy glow of his ass.

Starsky bent low, lips brushing aside the damp hair at the nape of Hutch's neck, sweat and salt sparked against his tongue as he nuzzled. His voice shook, heavy with lust and fear, "Tell me, Hutch. Tell me. Ya want me to stop." His words small puffs of warm air that fluttered against the sweat dampened locks.

Starsky let his fingers drift lower, brush lightly against the warm furred sacks that hung heavy between Hutch's legs, resisted giving in to a sense of triumph at the abrupt hiss Hutch exhaled, parting his legs as far as the confines of the material allowed.

Starsky almost crooned, "Yeah. That's it babe. Show me. Show me what ya want."

Starsky felt his hand shake, tenderness and ownership swelled his heart as he let his fingers curl around the soft orbs of flesh. He gently rolled them between his fingers, cupping them in his hand, he could feel Hutch's cock jump erratically with each light movement.

Starsky gulped in air, his heart slamming against his chest. Such a big gamble. The biggest of his life. The stakes would leave him bankrupt emotionally, if he failed. He gave a final lick along Hutch's neck, tickling behind the ear and felt Hutch's answering shiver. "Okay, Hutch. It's okay. Ever'things gonna be okay."

He moved the hand stroking Hutch's back to finger the golden strands, slowly sliding his hand around to touch Hutch's cheek encouragingly. "I want ya t'lick my fingers. Suck 'em good." Starsky closed his eyes, letting sensations swell through him as he felt Hutch slowly... slowly turn his head, tongue coming out to lick almost shyly at his two fingers.

"Yeah." Starsky's voice rasped against his throat like a three-day beard catching on velvet. "Suck me, babe. That's good. Real good. You belong to me, don'cha, Hutch?" Starsky suppressed a groan, the wet heat of Hutch's mouth and gentle sucking sensations racing through his body like a firestorm to burst into a raging inferno focussed in his groin. He shifted beneath Hutch's weight, his tight packed jeans growing increasingly uncomfortable.

Starsky bent, laying a gentle kiss between Hutch's shoulders. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Doing this to Hutch. He slid one hand between Hutch's spread legs, cupping the tight testicles, pushing them gently up against the hard cock.

Hutch moaned, his entire body vibrating like a live wire in a hurricane. Starsky let his saliva-coated fingers trail invitingly up and down the shadowed cleft. Starsky thought he could feel the heat radiating from Hutch's body as he slid his other hand tenderly along Hutch's spine to the curve of buttocks, slowly spreading the rosy cheeks so that the pulsing muscle was visible.

He felt mesmerized by the pale pink pucker as it twitched. Hutch's entire body seemed to be undulating against him. A frisson of passion flared through him causing his finger to tremble as he circled the tight drawn muscle, his heart pounding in time with Hutch's panting breaths.

"Who do you belong to, Hutch?" Starsky's voice trembled as he continued to tease the winking pucker.

Hutch lay in a graceless sprawl across Starsky's lap, hands still bound at the small of his back. Hips making small thrusting motions, as if to encourage Starsky to claim him, to hurry. Starsky slowly pushed the tip of his finger against the muscle until it relaxed, admitting the tip of his finger.into the velvet heat of Hutch's body.

Hutch whimpered, arching away from the intrusion, at first, then pushing back, as if he couldn't stand to be separate from Starsky anymore. Starsky let out a breath he did not know he was holding in a whoosh of released fears, he swallowed hard, his mouth too dry. He thrust his finger a few times experimentally, painful ecstasy fulfilled as he watch Hutch rear back against his hand as he inserted a second finger.

Starsky spoke harshly, pulling his fingers almost all the way out, despite Hutch's keening protest. "Tell me babe, who do you belong to?"

With strange mewling noises erupting from Hutch's throat, sweat glistening on his shoulders, along his strong back; he reminded Starsky of a large puma its golden pelt slick with sweat. His hands were clenching and unclenching as he drew himself higher.

"You... b'long to you... please Starsk!"

Starsky began to whisper hoarsely, wanting to share with Hutch, wanting Hutch to know that Hutch belonged to him, Starsky. "Wanna... take ... you... in th' squad room, pull ya along on a leash 'n' collar babe. Parade ya around naked with nuthin' but my mark on you... "

Hutch bucked and squirmed against Starsky's hand, trying to drive Starsky deeper into himself. Starsky's words just seemed to make him hotter, driving him insane until he was writhing like a bitch in heat against Starsky's fingers.

A low groan exploded from Hutch, tremors seeming to wrack the slender body, Hutch's head tossing back and forth on the sofa cushions, his eyes squeezed tight shut. Starsky leaned closer, hoarse whispers falling from his lips, "nuthin' but my mark, so they all know who you belong to... "

Starsky rotated his hand slowly, fingers twisting and turning in the hot canal. He felt a small bump and rubbed it experimentally.

Hutch wailed and went rigid, then bucked against the intrusive hand, rubbing himself against Starsky's pant leg. Starsky felt a sudden wet heat explode against his thigh. "God Hutch, so beautiful... " He continued to press gently in and out of Hutch's anus, letting his other hand caress the quivering man.

He slowly extricated his fingers from Hutch's ass, wiping them against his jeans before pulling him up to rest against him. Hutch's face was flushed, his eyes closed, breathing irregular. He looked like a man just fucked and put away wet. He looked gorgeous, his neck arched as he lay his head back against Starsky's shoulder...

Starsky could see the vein throb erratically in Hutch's throat, just a mere few inches from his lips. Starsky couldn't resist kissing Hutch there, tonguing the sweat along his throat, sucking at the juncture of throat and shoulder.

Before Starsky could stop him, Hutch twisted out of his grasp. Starsky felt his heart jump and lodge against his trachea strangling him, his stomach lurched as if he was on an elevator. Couldn't lose Hutch, now... it would've hurt before, it would kill him now. "Hutch... "

Hutch slid to his knees in front of Starsky, looking up at him from beneath gold fringed lashes. A world of entreaty in his posture as he slowly lowered his face to rub against Starsky's belly. "Starsk... please, I want... I need... ", he whispered, his voice strained.

Starsky was held by the pale blue gaze. "What, babe... what do you need?" Starsky let his fingers card through the blond hair, reveling in the freedom to touch.

Hutch blushed, casting his eyes down, away. "Let me help you."

A light went on in Starsky's mind, a slow eager grin curling his lips. He leaned back against the couch, unzipping his jeans, his cock leapt from the over-tight confinement. His attention was riveted to his partner as Hutch lowered his head.

Hutch lay his cheek against the dark curls at Starsky's groin, inhaling deeply, eyes shut tight. He began to nuzzle through the wiry curls at the base of Starsky's cock, rubbing his rough stubbled cheek along the length of Starsky's cock.

Starsky groaned, his hands finding there way into Hutch's hair to clench convulsively as he watched the golden head working at his groin. His cock was leaking pre-cum profusely and he had to force his fingers to relax as he watched the pink tip of Hutch's tongue tentatively flick out to lick against the slick crown of his dick.

"GOD. HUTCH." Starsky couldn't-didn't want to stop the cry that escaped as the welcome humidity of Hutch's mouth surrounded his cock.

This was Hutch. His Hutch. A strange tender joy blossomed within him and he realized that his love for Hutch was returned. Hutch. His partner. His lover. Hutch suckling his dick like a lamb at it's mother's teat. Starsky gasped, cupping the back of Hutch's head tenderly while he fucked his mouth.

Waves of heat pulsed through his body, crashing against his sanity. He wanted to throw his head back and yowl at the moon, he wanted to scream Hutch's name, he wanted to plunder Hutch's mouth, ass, wanted all of Hutch, wanted to hold him tight, feel his warmth against him and know they'd wake up together, wanted to hear Hutch say it. Say the words that would bind them together.

Hutch pulled back, swirling his tongue along the underside of Starsky's cock, the vein throbbed manically as Hutch engulfed Starsky's dick once more, sucking hard, pulling his cock down his throat as his cheeks hollowed, until he gagged.

The spasms of Hutch's throat sent shock waves reeled through him, heat waves sizzled, heat lightning made his body rigid, even as he tried to pull away, to keep from choking Hutch, his fingers clutching in the damp strands of hair. "HUTCH." The cry escalated as he threw his head back against the sofa, shock waves raced through him like a nuclear explosion at ground zero as he felt his dick pumping his seed into Hutch's mouth.

Hutch gasped around the thick meat filling his mouth with spurt after spurt of salty fluid. The liquid dribbled down his chin as he attempted to swallow as much as possible, he was breathing hard and his own cock was half hard from the smell and taste of Starsky.

He continued to suck gently while Starsky collapsed in the aftermath of his orgasm. He slowly let the flaccid organ slip from between his lips, assiduously licking the strings of come from the shrinking shaft before laying his face against Starsky's abdomen, hiding his face in the thick curls as he inhaled.

Starsky felt his reality slowly come back into focus. Hutch was laying quiescent between his legs. Face hidden in his groin, his arms still pulled back behind his back painfully. "Aww. Damn. Hutch. C'mere, babe."

Hutch raised his head, staring at him sleepily, a shy smile dancing about his lips. "Gonna let me go, now, Starsk?"

Starsky chuckled, feeling decidedly decadent with his softened cock hanging out of his opened jeans and his shirt shoved up to his armpits. He pulled Hutch up on the sofa, taking the keys from his jeans pocket and undoing the cuffs. He tossed the cuffs and keys on the table, turning an unresisting Hutch to face him.

Starsky brought first one, then the other reddened wrist to his lips and brushed a soft kiss against the marks. "You're gonna be bruised tomorrow, Hutch."

Starsky could almost swear he could see the shutters coming down.

"Starsk... Starsky this doesn't change anything." Hutch looked everywhere but at his partner.

"Doesn't? It changes everything Hutch! I love... "

Hutch tried to stand up only to have Starsky yank him back down across his lap. He stared up at Starsky, opened his mouth. Then shut it.

"Don't shut me out, babe. I need to know. I deserve to know."

"Can't. This shouldn't've happened. It can't happen."

Starsky ruthlessly suppressed the instant pain that jagged its painful way through his heart. "Why not?"

Hutch licked dry lips, as he tried to organize his disordered thoughts. Shrugging helplessly, he gestured about the apartment, somehow including himself and Starsky in the brief movement. "In here... in here's different. Out there? We're cops, Starsky. Good cops. We depend on other cops. For help. For backup. If... if this got out, you'd be in danger. I couldn't handle that... not again."

"You think I could? Could handle the idea of some asshole hurting you? You're right, babe. Shush. You've had your chance, now it's my turn. We are cops. Good cops. And this doesn't change that. Nuthin' changes that!

"Either of us could buy it any day, doesn't have to be slow backup. We work the major crimes. We work and slog through the muck of mankind. I think we both deserve a little happiness. If it means out there we're just pals, but in here we're lovers..."

Hutch twisted trying to sit up and move away, he opened his mouth to object.

"No." Starsky pulled Hutch against his chest gazing angrily into Hutch's hopelessness refusing to let Hutch protest. "It's always been you 'n' me. I love you Hutch. And that's gotta mean sumthin'. Me, I've always been yours... you... you've always been mine..." Starsky traced Hutch's full lips with his thumb, his voice took on a coaxing wheedling tone, "You said you were mine. We've never lied to each other before. You are mine, ain'tcha Hutch?"

Hutch looked up into Starsky's face and saw his future. Hutch's eyes large and dark shadowed by hope and fear, his voice rough as he lay his head in Starsky's palm, turning to lay a kiss at the center. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm yours, Starsk. Only yours. I love you, too."

Finis