Captain Dobey accepted the request for Starsky’s temporary reassignment to desk duty without comment or question. He knew something was bothering the curly-haired man, consequently affecting his job performance, and had been considering grounding him himself. However he was pleased that Starsky took it upon himself to get help without having to be forced to. And since Hutch would still be on leave for a week or so, it made for less office headaches trying to partner Starsky with someone who couldn’t deal with his brand of police work.
Taking one session a week with Dr. MacGruder, Starsky appeared to be making progress. The dreams seemed to have subsided, though the fear of losing Hutch did not go away quite so easily.
Coming home from a therapy session several weeks later, Starsky was greeted by a tired Hutch lying on the living room couch. “Hey, Starsk. What’cha want for dinner?”
All he could see of his partner was the top of a blond head lying on the arm of the couch. Looking over at the clock on the bookshelf, the red numbers told him it was 6:45. Starsky wondered what was up with his partner. Hutch always had dinner ready, or at least started, on evenings that Starsky had therapy. “Hey, ya lazy lug,” he said, taking a light, friendly swing at the top of the head as he walked by, “ain’t it a little late to be starting dinner?”
At the light swat, Hutch’s shoulders came up in a cringe and he brought his right hand up to hold his head. “Ow.”
“I didn’t hit you that hard. Quit bein’ a baby.”
“I’ll get it ready. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.” Hutch asked again. As he raised his head to get off the couch, Starsky noted the white band on his head, just above his left eye and across his temple, as well as the stark bruise around his eye and left cheekbone.
Dropping his gun and holster on the armchair, Starsky rushed behind his partner as he walked to the kitchen. “Shit! What the hell happened?”
Rubbing his head lightly without turning around, Hutch answered, “It’s nothing Starsk. Not even a concussion, just some bruising and a bad cut. Not even any stitches.”
“So what the hell happened?” he asked again. “Did Dobey send ya out without me? What the hell was he thinking? You’re still supposed to be on desk duty.”
“I fell, Starsky.” Hutch sighed, hating to admit to being clumsy. “Down the stairs at the precinct on my way out. That’s all – no big deal.”
Starsky put his hands on Hutch’s shoulders and turned him around, looking deeply into the bright eyes before him. “You fell? That’s it? He reached up and petted some loose strands on Hutch’s forehead that fell around the white bandage. “You didn’t pass out or anything, right?”
Grasping Starsky’s hand by the wrist, Hutch pulled it down and growled, “Starsky! I’m o-kay. I’ve got one hell of a headache, and you’re making it worse.”
“I just worry about ya.” Starsky lowered his head to Hutch’s chest.
Pulling his love closer, Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s waist. “I know you do, and I can’t tell you to stop worrying, that’d be calling the kettle black.” The difference between Starsky’s reaction to this minor injury compared to the one of a few weeks ago, was noticeable. “I think you’re getting better at it though,” he added for some levity.
“Yeah. Doc MacGruder’s been real good. Helping me to face that all we can do is deal with what’s in front of us. Stop worrying about ‘what ifs’ that may never happen. We’ve also been talking about past stuff, like the Plague. Says maybe I never dealt properly with those things then, and they’ve been building up all this time.”
“Not a bad idea. Dr. Mitchell did the same with me during and after Gunther.”
“He thinks that maybe that’s why all this started. Plus, the talk about taking new jobs on the force, was a dam. Like a jar of water that kept flooding and had no where to go but pour out somehow.”
Hutch nodded his head. “I did wonder about that. Even with all you’ve been through, I’m still glad it wasn’t over some other lover.”
“Never, Blintz.” Starsky guffawed and elbowed Hutch lightly in the upper forearm.
Since his lover wasn’t feeling up to par, Starsky offered to make dinner while Hutch rested. “Whatever you want, babe. Well, as long as it doesn’t contain worm livers or toad testicles.”
“Worm livers? Toad testicles? Starsky, there are no such things.”
“Exactly.” The brunet grinned impishly back at him.
“Are you implying that I eat what amounts to nothing?”
“If the bean sprout’s in your salad…..”
After dinner they rested on the couch together. Hutch’s head in Starsky’s lap, while the latter watched game shows as he thread his fingers through the blond hair. Hutch kept his eyes closed and basked in the gentle, almost dreamy, ministration.
“Mmm….” He stretched his long neck upward like a cat beseeching for more strokes. “You wanna talk?”
Starsky just shook his head negatively, forgetting that Hutch’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see his response.
“Starsk?” The light blue eyes opened to his partner’s forward stare; his dark countenance staring, but not really watching, the television.
“Huh?” Starsky glanced down at the paler than normal face. “Oh.” His shoulders came up and dropped in a resigned shrug. “Not much to tell. It’s just…I’m still afraid.” Starsky closed his eyes and sighed, “I lost you once. It could happen again. Especially in a job like ours.” Then he shrugged again. “Hell, I’m not sure I even believe in that post-life stuff. It’s pretty heady shit. But if it’s true…”
“Starsky, we were two different people then and it was a different world. Just because we might’ve been separated once doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen every time we find each other. Besides, what if we were someone else at another time, too? I think the chances that we’ve been several people throughout history are pretty high. And there’s no saying that we didn’t have happy, fulfilling lives together in any of those.”
“David, look at me.” Hutch reached up and grabbed the prickly chin. “I’d like to believe our destiny is to keep finding and loving each other throughout the ages. No matter whom we were or are. Even if we’re gibbons. You should focus on that, rather than who we might’ve been and how we were separated and if it could happen again.”
Starsky pondered that for a moment, letting it bounce around in his heart and mind. “I like that idea. Never thought of it that way.”
“I look at the ½ empty glass enough for both of us. Don’t add to it, okay?” Hutch continued to pull the darker face forward and gave the irresistible mouth a gentle kiss. “No matter what happens, babe, I love you. I love you now and I’ll love you throughout time.”
He got up off his lover’s lap and the couch. “Come on, babe. Let’s call it a night. We’ve both had an exciting day.” He pulled Starsky up by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
~*~
Several months later:
Starsky was back on active street duty and down to one visit a month with Dr. MacGruder.
He was startled when he found that his fear of losing Hutch also had its roots in the senseless loss of his father at an early age, and the subsequent separation from his mother and brother. He also became more comfortable talking about his relationship with Hutch to Dr. MacGruder.
One night after a session with the psychiatrist, Starsky came home later than planned.
Hutch was in Starsky’s kitchen just pulling a casserole out from the oven, when Starsky came in, his arms ladened with packages.
“You’re late.” Hutch quipped without turning around.
“Had to make a couple of stops.” Starsky dropped off the packages on the couch and walked over to Hutch. He kissed the slightly bent figure on the side of the neck and patted Hutch’s back.”
“Where? What did you get?”
“Later.” Starsky couldn’t hide the glee and mischievousness on his face.
After a relaxing dinner with easy conversation, Hutch cleared the table and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Want one?” He asked his partner as he walked past him to the living room.
Starsky grabbed the unopened bottle from Hutch’s hand. “Nope, and neither do you.”
“Oh, I don’t?” One of Hutch’s eyebrows raised in questioning confidence.
“Don’t you wanna see what I bought?”
“Okay, I’ll play.” Hutch sighed. “What newfangled gadget did you get that’s supposed to make our lives better?”
“That’s what I’m hoping, that you’ll wanna play.” Starsky walked to his packages sitting on the couch where he’d left them when he came in earlier. “Stopped at ‘Uncle Ernie’s’ and then ‘Acme Costumes’.”
“You went to a porn shop and a costume store?” Hutch wasn’t sure he wanted to know the direction this conversation was going.”
Starsky pulled out some leather ties from one bag, and what looked like a leather skirt from another.”
“Wanna play ‘David & Jonathan’?” He leered at Hutch, who’s mouth dropped open.
“Wha…What the hell?!” Stuttered his astonished lover.
“Doc MacGruder says I should embrace the idea that I could’ve been King David and to learn more about the lifestyle and culture. After all it is part of my background.”
“Somehow I doubt he meant using these… What are they?”
Holding up the leather straps, Starsky explained what his ‘accessories’ were for. “These are similar to the straps that the Israelite warriors used to attach their weapons onto their bodies. And this,” he lifted the ‘skirt’, “is a warrior’s dress like they wore in combat.”
“Dress is about right.” Snorted Hutch.
“So how ‘bout it, lover?” Starsky asked as he threw one of the leather kilts to Hutch. Who caught it in his arms, but the expression on his face told a different story.
“You look like I just made you eat a burrito. Come on, Hutch. It might be fun.”
“I can think of some other fun I’d rather be having.”
“Yeah? Well that’s the plan.” Starsky leered and winked at his lover.
Hutch made a grab for the straps that Starsky held in his other hand, but Starsky pulled them back and out of Hutch’s reach. “Oh, no. Those are for me.”
“And just what do you plan on doing with them?”
“I’m sure I can think of something.” He swatted Hutch’s rear. “Now go change, my handsome Prince.”
When Hutch was finished ‘dressing’ – or undressing as he saw it - he found Starsky in his bedroom standing with his rear facing the doorway. He stood for a moment admiring the muscular, bowed legs, imagining the plush rear beneath the leather kilt, visualizing an oral mapping of the valley of that burly back where the spine lay, and recalling the times he held onto the lean, but strong shoulders
“Something tells me your plans are going to change.” Hutch whispered.
“Huh?” Starsky heard Hutch behind him, and turned. Upon seeing his lover, his eyes burned brightly with lust. “Man, babe, you’re hot.”
“Look who’s talking. You look like a Greek statue come to life.”
The next thing Starsky knew, Hutch was directly in front of him, those long legs crossing the room in two strides. Before Starsky could take his plans in hand and get his lover into the bed, Hutch was on his knees before him; broad hands running up his thighs and cupping his genitals hidden beneath the leather, where a surprise awaited him.
Starsky was commando.
From the moment Hutch touched him, all Starsky was able to communicate was a groaning “Uh…Hutch…”
Hutch knew how to render his partner helpless. “Slight change of plans, babe.” Rubbing his face gently into the leather before him, Hutch warned Starsky, “We’re doing my version of David & Jonathan.”
“Your version?” Starsky grabbed the long blond strands on Hutch’s head. He didn’t care what Hutch’s version was, as long as the tender ball play continued and progressed further. He pushed Hutch’s head closer to his groin, knowing that he risked marking impressions on his pale face from the leather, but not caring at that point. “You’ll have to show it to me.”
“That’s the new plan.” Hutch’s voice had a smirk in it, his fingers reaching up to tickle Starsky’s balls and lay pressure on the area just behind them.
By unbuckling his belt, Starsky sent a signal to his lover that playtime was over. He pushed the waistband over his hips, and Hutch pushed the kilt down the rest of the way.
With the kilt at his feet, Starsky stood before the kneeling Hutch in all his natural glory.
Hutch didn’t bother to remove his own kilt. He leaned forward and began an oral adoration of Starsky’s desire filled cock, while using his left hand to continue the fingertip massage of Starsky’s balls. Which vibrated and retracted at the feather-lite touch.
Pleasure filled grunts and groans from Starsky became more demanding. Hutch obliged by putting his first two fingers in his mouth, lathering them with saliva, then reaching behind Starsky and pushing them into the tightened anus.
“Uh…damn. Sunuva….Oh, damn, Hutch.” Starsky’s fingers dug deep into Hutch’s shoulder to steady himself.
While Starsky groaned incomplete sentences, Hutch continued to finger fuck him on one end and suck him on the other, while Starsky rocked his hips to get more and more stimulation from the luscious mouth and the long, thick fingers.
With one long groan and a lunge toward Hutch’s throat, Starsky came, bathing his lover’s throat with all the essence Hutch could wring out of him.
Hurriedly, Hutch stood up and guided a shaky Starsky backward to the edge of the bed and helped him to lie down before he collapsed on the floor.
“Oh, man. That was great, babe.” Starsky said, once he got his breathing under control. He rolled onto his side, watching his partner. “Your turn.”
“Too late.” Hutch removed his kilt, revealing his flaccid cock. He climbed into the bed next to Starsky, cuddling close.
“What?” Starsky sat up and looked down on the floor. The kilt he had been wearing lay where Hutch had slipped it off. A creamy fluid pooled on the leather. “You mean…”
“Yep.” Hutch was neither ashamed nor embarrassed. “Doing you makes me so hot.”
“Now I gotta have it cleaned.” Groaned Starsky. But an impish grin on his face gave away that he was not upset. “Should I be honored?”
“You better be.” And Hutch leaned in for a kiss.
“We should do this more often,” whispered Starsky.
Chuffing, his breath rustling his bangs, Hutch commented, “You’re insatiable. I think we do it often enough.” He rubbed his hand on Starsky’s shoulder, always feeling that touch was the perfect way through the afterglow, sometimes arousing them for another round of loving.
“Not that. Role playing.”
“Yeah.” Starsky got into the idea. “You know, pick characters from history and pretend to be them. Robin Hood and Little John, Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred, Richard the Lionheart and Philip of Spain, Alice Toklas and Gertrude Stein…”
“Starsky! They were women!”
“So? We could pretend, couldn’t we?” Starsky flashed his long eyelashes copiously.
“I’m not dressing up in a skirt and hose!”
“Not even for me?” Starsky pouted with exaggeration. “You wore a leather skirt for me just now.”
Hutch groaned, and tried to change the subject. “I’ve got a better idea.” He kissed Starsky’s shoulder lightly. “Why don’t we just pretend we’re trapped in this bed with no clothes and see where it takes us?”
Starsky closed his eyes with the onslaught of fingers traveling up and down his arm and chest. “Mmm…I think I need more persuasion. Less discussion.”
With that, talk ceased as Hutch rolled over onto Starsky and took his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss; designed to melt away everything but the two of them and their love.
Jonathan’s spirit lingered just beyond the field and he watched as his friend and lover laid the bodies of himself and his father into a cavern of a large hill. He felt David’s pain as the other man mourned the passing of his friends: lover and king. He felt no fear, no sorrow, no anger. Jonathan only felt peace. He knew now that they had an eternity to look forward to. This was just one step of a long journey together.
“For ever in time we shall meet, my David. For I belong to thee. And thou art mine. Do not thou fret. It shall be as Me and Thee for all time.”
He turned around and walked into the Lord’s light to wait for his friend. Eternity stretched out before them. Lifetimes of experiencing and learning; loss and sorrow; love and happiness.
**Peter Abelard, sixth plantus
Taking one session a week with Dr. MacGruder, Starsky appeared to be making progress. The dreams seemed to have subsided, though the fear of losing Hutch did not go away quite so easily.
Coming home from a therapy session several weeks later, Starsky was greeted by a tired Hutch lying on the living room couch. “Hey, Starsk. What’cha want for dinner?”
All he could see of his partner was the top of a blond head lying on the arm of the couch. Looking over at the clock on the bookshelf, the red numbers told him it was 6:45. Starsky wondered what was up with his partner. Hutch always had dinner ready, or at least started, on evenings that Starsky had therapy. “Hey, ya lazy lug,” he said, taking a light, friendly swing at the top of the head as he walked by, “ain’t it a little late to be starting dinner?”
At the light swat, Hutch’s shoulders came up in a cringe and he brought his right hand up to hold his head. “Ow.”
“I didn’t hit you that hard. Quit bein’ a baby.”
“I’ll get it ready. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.” Hutch asked again. As he raised his head to get off the couch, Starsky noted the white band on his head, just above his left eye and across his temple, as well as the stark bruise around his eye and left cheekbone.
Dropping his gun and holster on the armchair, Starsky rushed behind his partner as he walked to the kitchen. “Shit! What the hell happened?”
Rubbing his head lightly without turning around, Hutch answered, “It’s nothing Starsk. Not even a concussion, just some bruising and a bad cut. Not even any stitches.”
“So what the hell happened?” he asked again. “Did Dobey send ya out without me? What the hell was he thinking? You’re still supposed to be on desk duty.”
“I fell, Starsky.” Hutch sighed, hating to admit to being clumsy. “Down the stairs at the precinct on my way out. That’s all – no big deal.”
Starsky put his hands on Hutch’s shoulders and turned him around, looking deeply into the bright eyes before him. “You fell? That’s it? He reached up and petted some loose strands on Hutch’s forehead that fell around the white bandage. “You didn’t pass out or anything, right?”
Grasping Starsky’s hand by the wrist, Hutch pulled it down and growled, “Starsky! I’m o-kay. I’ve got one hell of a headache, and you’re making it worse.”
“I just worry about ya.” Starsky lowered his head to Hutch’s chest.
Pulling his love closer, Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky’s waist. “I know you do, and I can’t tell you to stop worrying, that’d be calling the kettle black.” The difference between Starsky’s reaction to this minor injury compared to the one of a few weeks ago, was noticeable. “I think you’re getting better at it though,” he added for some levity.
“Yeah. Doc MacGruder’s been real good. Helping me to face that all we can do is deal with what’s in front of us. Stop worrying about ‘what ifs’ that may never happen. We’ve also been talking about past stuff, like the Plague. Says maybe I never dealt properly with those things then, and they’ve been building up all this time.”
“Not a bad idea. Dr. Mitchell did the same with me during and after Gunther.”
“He thinks that maybe that’s why all this started. Plus, the talk about taking new jobs on the force, was a dam. Like a jar of water that kept flooding and had no where to go but pour out somehow.”
Hutch nodded his head. “I did wonder about that. Even with all you’ve been through, I’m still glad it wasn’t over some other lover.”
“Never, Blintz.” Starsky guffawed and elbowed Hutch lightly in the upper forearm.
Since his lover wasn’t feeling up to par, Starsky offered to make dinner while Hutch rested. “Whatever you want, babe. Well, as long as it doesn’t contain worm livers or toad testicles.”
“Worm livers? Toad testicles? Starsky, there are no such things.”
“Exactly.” The brunet grinned impishly back at him.
“Are you implying that I eat what amounts to nothing?”
“If the bean sprout’s in your salad…..”
After dinner they rested on the couch together. Hutch’s head in Starsky’s lap, while the latter watched game shows as he thread his fingers through the blond hair. Hutch kept his eyes closed and basked in the gentle, almost dreamy, ministration.
“Mmm….” He stretched his long neck upward like a cat beseeching for more strokes. “You wanna talk?”
Starsky just shook his head negatively, forgetting that Hutch’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see his response.
“Starsk?” The light blue eyes opened to his partner’s forward stare; his dark countenance staring, but not really watching, the television.
“Huh?” Starsky glanced down at the paler than normal face. “Oh.” His shoulders came up and dropped in a resigned shrug. “Not much to tell. It’s just…I’m still afraid.” Starsky closed his eyes and sighed, “I lost you once. It could happen again. Especially in a job like ours.” Then he shrugged again. “Hell, I’m not sure I even believe in that post-life stuff. It’s pretty heady shit. But if it’s true…”
“Starsky, we were two different people then and it was a different world. Just because we might’ve been separated once doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen every time we find each other. Besides, what if we were someone else at another time, too? I think the chances that we’ve been several people throughout history are pretty high. And there’s no saying that we didn’t have happy, fulfilling lives together in any of those.”
“David, look at me.” Hutch reached up and grabbed the prickly chin. “I’d like to believe our destiny is to keep finding and loving each other throughout the ages. No matter whom we were or are. Even if we’re gibbons. You should focus on that, rather than who we might’ve been and how we were separated and if it could happen again.”
Starsky pondered that for a moment, letting it bounce around in his heart and mind. “I like that idea. Never thought of it that way.”
“I look at the ½ empty glass enough for both of us. Don’t add to it, okay?” Hutch continued to pull the darker face forward and gave the irresistible mouth a gentle kiss. “No matter what happens, babe, I love you. I love you now and I’ll love you throughout time.”
He got up off his lover’s lap and the couch. “Come on, babe. Let’s call it a night. We’ve both had an exciting day.” He pulled Starsky up by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
~*~
Several months later:
Starsky was back on active street duty and down to one visit a month with Dr. MacGruder.
He was startled when he found that his fear of losing Hutch also had its roots in the senseless loss of his father at an early age, and the subsequent separation from his mother and brother. He also became more comfortable talking about his relationship with Hutch to Dr. MacGruder.
One night after a session with the psychiatrist, Starsky came home later than planned.
Hutch was in Starsky’s kitchen just pulling a casserole out from the oven, when Starsky came in, his arms ladened with packages.
“You’re late.” Hutch quipped without turning around.
“Had to make a couple of stops.” Starsky dropped off the packages on the couch and walked over to Hutch. He kissed the slightly bent figure on the side of the neck and patted Hutch’s back.”
“Where? What did you get?”
“Later.” Starsky couldn’t hide the glee and mischievousness on his face.
After a relaxing dinner with easy conversation, Hutch cleared the table and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Want one?” He asked his partner as he walked past him to the living room.
Starsky grabbed the unopened bottle from Hutch’s hand. “Nope, and neither do you.”
“Oh, I don’t?” One of Hutch’s eyebrows raised in questioning confidence.
“Don’t you wanna see what I bought?”
“Okay, I’ll play.” Hutch sighed. “What newfangled gadget did you get that’s supposed to make our lives better?”
“That’s what I’m hoping, that you’ll wanna play.” Starsky walked to his packages sitting on the couch where he’d left them when he came in earlier. “Stopped at ‘Uncle Ernie’s’ and then ‘Acme Costumes’.”
“You went to a porn shop and a costume store?” Hutch wasn’t sure he wanted to know the direction this conversation was going.”
Starsky pulled out some leather ties from one bag, and what looked like a leather skirt from another.”
“Wanna play ‘David & Jonathan’?” He leered at Hutch, who’s mouth dropped open.
“Wha…What the hell?!” Stuttered his astonished lover.
“Doc MacGruder says I should embrace the idea that I could’ve been King David and to learn more about the lifestyle and culture. After all it is part of my background.”
“Somehow I doubt he meant using these… What are they?”
Holding up the leather straps, Starsky explained what his ‘accessories’ were for. “These are similar to the straps that the Israelite warriors used to attach their weapons onto their bodies. And this,” he lifted the ‘skirt’, “is a warrior’s dress like they wore in combat.”
“Dress is about right.” Snorted Hutch.
“So how ‘bout it, lover?” Starsky asked as he threw one of the leather kilts to Hutch. Who caught it in his arms, but the expression on his face told a different story.
“You look like I just made you eat a burrito. Come on, Hutch. It might be fun.”
“I can think of some other fun I’d rather be having.”
“Yeah? Well that’s the plan.” Starsky leered and winked at his lover.
Hutch made a grab for the straps that Starsky held in his other hand, but Starsky pulled them back and out of Hutch’s reach. “Oh, no. Those are for me.”
“And just what do you plan on doing with them?”
“I’m sure I can think of something.” He swatted Hutch’s rear. “Now go change, my handsome Prince.”
When Hutch was finished ‘dressing’ – or undressing as he saw it - he found Starsky in his bedroom standing with his rear facing the doorway. He stood for a moment admiring the muscular, bowed legs, imagining the plush rear beneath the leather kilt, visualizing an oral mapping of the valley of that burly back where the spine lay, and recalling the times he held onto the lean, but strong shoulders
“Something tells me your plans are going to change.” Hutch whispered.
“Huh?” Starsky heard Hutch behind him, and turned. Upon seeing his lover, his eyes burned brightly with lust. “Man, babe, you’re hot.”
“Look who’s talking. You look like a Greek statue come to life.”
The next thing Starsky knew, Hutch was directly in front of him, those long legs crossing the room in two strides. Before Starsky could take his plans in hand and get his lover into the bed, Hutch was on his knees before him; broad hands running up his thighs and cupping his genitals hidden beneath the leather, where a surprise awaited him.
Starsky was commando.
From the moment Hutch touched him, all Starsky was able to communicate was a groaning “Uh…Hutch…”
Hutch knew how to render his partner helpless. “Slight change of plans, babe.” Rubbing his face gently into the leather before him, Hutch warned Starsky, “We’re doing my version of David & Jonathan.”
“Your version?” Starsky grabbed the long blond strands on Hutch’s head. He didn’t care what Hutch’s version was, as long as the tender ball play continued and progressed further. He pushed Hutch’s head closer to his groin, knowing that he risked marking impressions on his pale face from the leather, but not caring at that point. “You’ll have to show it to me.”
“That’s the new plan.” Hutch’s voice had a smirk in it, his fingers reaching up to tickle Starsky’s balls and lay pressure on the area just behind them.
By unbuckling his belt, Starsky sent a signal to his lover that playtime was over. He pushed the waistband over his hips, and Hutch pushed the kilt down the rest of the way.
With the kilt at his feet, Starsky stood before the kneeling Hutch in all his natural glory.
Hutch didn’t bother to remove his own kilt. He leaned forward and began an oral adoration of Starsky’s desire filled cock, while using his left hand to continue the fingertip massage of Starsky’s balls. Which vibrated and retracted at the feather-lite touch.
Pleasure filled grunts and groans from Starsky became more demanding. Hutch obliged by putting his first two fingers in his mouth, lathering them with saliva, then reaching behind Starsky and pushing them into the tightened anus.
“Uh…damn. Sunuva….Oh, damn, Hutch.” Starsky’s fingers dug deep into Hutch’s shoulder to steady himself.
While Starsky groaned incomplete sentences, Hutch continued to finger fuck him on one end and suck him on the other, while Starsky rocked his hips to get more and more stimulation from the luscious mouth and the long, thick fingers.
With one long groan and a lunge toward Hutch’s throat, Starsky came, bathing his lover’s throat with all the essence Hutch could wring out of him.
Hurriedly, Hutch stood up and guided a shaky Starsky backward to the edge of the bed and helped him to lie down before he collapsed on the floor.
“Oh, man. That was great, babe.” Starsky said, once he got his breathing under control. He rolled onto his side, watching his partner. “Your turn.”
“Too late.” Hutch removed his kilt, revealing his flaccid cock. He climbed into the bed next to Starsky, cuddling close.
“What?” Starsky sat up and looked down on the floor. The kilt he had been wearing lay where Hutch had slipped it off. A creamy fluid pooled on the leather. “You mean…”
“Yep.” Hutch was neither ashamed nor embarrassed. “Doing you makes me so hot.”
“Now I gotta have it cleaned.” Groaned Starsky. But an impish grin on his face gave away that he was not upset. “Should I be honored?”
“You better be.” And Hutch leaned in for a kiss.
“We should do this more often,” whispered Starsky.
Chuffing, his breath rustling his bangs, Hutch commented, “You’re insatiable. I think we do it often enough.” He rubbed his hand on Starsky’s shoulder, always feeling that touch was the perfect way through the afterglow, sometimes arousing them for another round of loving.
“Not that. Role playing.”
“Yeah.” Starsky got into the idea. “You know, pick characters from history and pretend to be them. Robin Hood and Little John, Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred, Richard the Lionheart and Philip of Spain, Alice Toklas and Gertrude Stein…”
“Starsky! They were women!”
“So? We could pretend, couldn’t we?” Starsky flashed his long eyelashes copiously.
“I’m not dressing up in a skirt and hose!”
“Not even for me?” Starsky pouted with exaggeration. “You wore a leather skirt for me just now.”
Hutch groaned, and tried to change the subject. “I’ve got a better idea.” He kissed Starsky’s shoulder lightly. “Why don’t we just pretend we’re trapped in this bed with no clothes and see where it takes us?”
Starsky closed his eyes with the onslaught of fingers traveling up and down his arm and chest. “Mmm…I think I need more persuasion. Less discussion.”
With that, talk ceased as Hutch rolled over onto Starsky and took his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss; designed to melt away everything but the two of them and their love.
Jonathan’s spirit lingered just beyond the field and he watched as his friend and lover laid the bodies of himself and his father into a cavern of a large hill. He felt David’s pain as the other man mourned the passing of his friends: lover and king. He felt no fear, no sorrow, no anger. Jonathan only felt peace. He knew now that they had an eternity to look forward to. This was just one step of a long journey together.
“For ever in time we shall meet, my David. For I belong to thee. And thou art mine. Do not thou fret. It shall be as Me and Thee for all time.”
He turned around and walked into the Lord’s light to wait for his friend. Eternity stretched out before them. Lifetimes of experiencing and learning; loss and sorrow; love and happiness.
**Peter Abelard, sixth plantus
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