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Any Given Sunday

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Starsky leaned against the bar, making sure he stayed in the dark shadows. He watched the patrons dance, shoot pool, lean in close to each other talking, whispering, making plans, sharing conversation. He sighed, bringing his tumbler of whiskey to his lips and sipping. He felt the hot burn, inhaling and then exhaling softly.

“You doin’ alright here?” the bartender asked with a smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” Starsky nursed his whiskey, his second, and made a mental note of not having another.

He turned to face the wall-sized mirror behind the bar, glancing up through his eyelashes to watch his partner shoot pool. Hutch didn’t know he was there, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He watched as Hutch bent over the table to line his shot up, and the young man he was playing against stood against the wall, openly admiring Hutch’s form. Starsky shook his head, sighing heavily. When he had first met Hutch a year before they went to the police academy, he knew Hutch hooked up with a certain man every weekend. Starsky didn’t mind. His philosophy was live and let live. He didn’t care as long as Hutch didn’t get hurt.

Starsky watched as when it was the other man’s turn, Hutch lingered in position so the guy had to literally walk behind Hutch, brush up against him, to get to his spot. The familiarity between the two men made it obvious to Starsky that they were more than friends. He hunched over, bringing the tumbler to his lips again. Maybe he shouldn’t have followed Hutch? Maybe he shouldn’t have been so nosey or curious? But Hutch had started being secretive six weeks ago, suddenly ending their weekends together at one o’clock every Sunday afternoon. And when he asked about the sudden change of schedule, Hutch always had an excuse and smiled that brilliant Hutchinson smile and clapped him on the shoulder saying he’d see him the next day at work.

Starsky finished his whiskey, shoving the tumbler away from him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood up, threw a few bills on the bar and exited through the kitchen. He just didn’t want to see anything more.


Hutch leaned into his desk, rubbing both eyes with the heel of his hands. He sighed heavily and then groaned.

“Coffee?” Starsky asked, lifting the pot towards his friend.

“Sure.” Hutch sighed, leaning back. He watched as Starsky topped his own mug off then poured the thick, heavily scented liquid into the mug placed on his desk. He leaned forward, taking a sip and then groaned loudly. “Starsky…this is awful!”

“Yeah.” Starsky grinned, putting the pot back on the warmer and taking a sip of his own. “But, beggars can’t be choosey.”


“So…when am I gonna meet her?” Starsky perched on the corner of Hutch’s desk, a smile spreading across his face. He was baiting Hutch deliberately to see if Hutch would finally come clean and tell him the truth.

“Huh?” Hutch glanced up, confused.

“The lady whose been takin’ you away from me every Sunday at one o’clock on the dot.” Starsky brought his mug up to his lips, sipping gently, eyeing Hutch’s face.

“Oh.” Hutch looked down, shoving the offensive coffee away from him. “Ugh…Barbara. Her name is Barbara.”

“Are you sure?” Starsky grinned.


“You don’t seem too sure.” Starsky said. “On her name.”

“Oh. Yeah. Barbara. Nice.”

“Maybe you an’ me and my girl can double this Sunday…” Starsky began.

“No…no…we’ve got plans.” Hutch said quickly. “But…I’ll let you know for another weekend, okay?”

“Sure, Hutch. Whatever you say.” Starsky frowned into his mug and then dumped it in the sink, rinsing the mug and placing it on the wire rack to dry.

“Well, come on then.” Hutch stood up. “We’ve got people to see and they ain’t getting’ seen with us standing here making small talk.”

After canvassing their beat for almost three hours, they headed to The Pit’s for lunch. Starsky slid into the booth with his back against the wall and Hutch slid into the other side, sighing heavily and letting his head fall forward.

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

Starsky glanced up, frowning. “Huh?”

“You aren’t cool thinking I don’t see you watching me behind your shades.” Hutch grinned shyly. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Starsky took his sunglasses off, placing them on the table. “There…feeling better? Wasn’t staring at you anyway.” Starsky hoped the little white lie didn’t show on his face. Hutch only blinked and chuckled.

Diane appeared and leaned into the table, her ample bosom threatening to fall out of the top of her V-neck dress. “What’ll it be, boys?”

“Garden salad and lemon water for me and…”

“Burger with fries for me,” Starsky finished with a smile. His eyes darted to the twin mounds in Diane’s top and then glanced up smiling bashfully.

“Starsky,” Diane said, standing up and both hands going from her shoulders to her hips, “you wouldn’t know what to do with all of this and if you did…you couldn’t handle all of this.”

Starsky broke out into a loud barking laugh and slapped the table. “But lord, sweetheart what I wouldn’t give to find that out.”

“Behave yourself,” Diane laughed, walking away.

Hutch chuckled, leaning his head back against the booth. He sighed, looking around. Starsky couldn’t help but feel the wistfulness floating off of his partner. Hutch looked so lost, so….sad? Like he was searching for something. Moody, aloof sometimes. Like he was waiting for something…someone…anything.

“Everything okay with you, partner?” Starsky asked quietly. He squared up to the table, leaning in.

“Yes…why would you ask?” Hutch frowned, looking his friend in the eye.

“Just askin’,” Starsky said. “Like I said…must be a special lady keepin’ you so busy that come Monday mornings you are wiped out.”

He saw Hutch blush and look away with a sigh. Why wouldn’t Hutch simply tell him he was back to seeing men again? Why was it such a secret?

“When the time is right.” Hutch’s tone let it be known that the talk of his new love was not welcome.

Starsky leaned back as Diane put the food on the table in front of them and then yanked some extra napkins from her apron pocket and placed them in the middle of the table.

“Anythin’ else, fellas?” she asked before she turned away.

“Just five minutes with you,” Starsky winked.

“Honey,” Diane paused, hand on her hips. “If you want to get with me…you better be worth more than five damn minutes. I am lookin’ for a man that can take care of all’a this…” she again motioned to her body with both hands, “and make it last all night long and then some.”

Starsky’s mouth hung open as Diane walked away grinning. Hutch leaned over, took his finger and closed Starsky’s jaw with a laugh. “Give it up, partner.”

Both men grinned, settling in to eat their lunch.


Starsky leaned into the Torino, the thick soapy sponge gliding across the hood. He wore only cut off shorts and the hot sun bore down, making his already bronzed skin darker. He had already finished the interior…having vacuumed, shampooed the carpet and wiped down and used leather conditioner on the dash, door panels, and seats. The outside was on it’s second wash, then he’d clean the windows. This was his weekly routine weather permitting. Bathing his prized possession, cleaning off the weeks-worth of dirt and grime and still providing the intense care he gave it from day one. It was the first major purchase and first off-the-showroom floor brand new car he’d ever owned since getting out of the Army and becoming a cop. The car was now going on twelve years and it was still a strong, dependable vehicle.

He glanced up, hearing a noise and watched as Hutch came around the corner and parked under the tree nearest the driveway. He got out, clad in boat shoes, cut off shorts and an orange tee shirt. He sat down on the fourth step of Starsky’s stairs and leaned back.

“Ahh, the Saturday ritual continues,” he drawled. “My chores got done early. I’m free the rest of the day.”

“What’s on the agenda today?” Starsky asked, grabbing the chamois cloth and began wiping off the water spots.

“Beach.” Hutch said, leaning back farther and looking up to the sun.

“Great!” Starsky enthused. “My favorite place to be!”

“I know.” Hutch stood up, stretching. “Want a beer?” He headed up the steps to Starsky’s apartment. He came down with two beers and handed one to his partner.
“Thanks.” Starsky twisted off the cap and threw his head back, taking a hefty swallow.

“Hey, you need more sunscreen on your back.” Hutch stood up, grabbing the tube and uncapping it. “Turn around…you look like a lobster.”

Starsky turned, placing both hands on the hood of the Torino and leaned in, as if getting ready to be frisked. Hutch paused, swallowing, then leaned in to squirt sunscreen all over his friend’s back. He began to rub firmly, massaging the lotion in evenly so there would be no streaks.

Grunting, Starsky felt himself relaxing, his head dipping low between his shoulders. “I could fall asleep you doing that.”

Hutch blinked having gotten lost in the sensual massage he had given his friend. His fingers had kneaded, rolled, and dug deeply into the muscles and tissues of Starsky’s back, his eyes mesmerized by the ripple and flow of the skin under his hands. He stepped back, realizing his cock also had enjoyed the massage.

“Ugh…all done.” Hutch wiped his hands on the towel he had snagged from Starsky’s back pocket and turned away from his friend so his budding erection wouldn’t be noticed.

“Thanks, partner.” Starsky smiled. He turned away and frowned. He couldn’t miss Hutch’s lump in the front of his shorts and he wondered what in the world was going on.
After making sure there were no water spots on the Torino and everything was completed, he cleaned the outside windows patiently and then grabbed all his supplies and stowed them away.

The two men trudged up the stairs to the apartment and Hutch plopped down to watch TV while Starsky headed to the bathroom to take a shower before heading to the beach.


Starsky woke up groggy, the previous afternoon of sun and sand and beer having worn him completely out. They had enjoyed six hours of beach time, throwing a Frisbee, laying on the large blanket, soaking up the sun. Listening to someone’s nearby radio and the sea gulls scream overhead. The hot sun, cool salty water made for a perfect day. They had gotten invited to play a game of beach volleyball by a group of people and had thoroughly enjoyed their time together. As the sun began to get lower in the sky, and families began to pack up with kids and gear, they simply laid on the blanket, listening to the happy sounds around them. They had begun to feel the slight drop in the temperature as the sun began to vanish, and then they too packed up and headed for their car.

They had stopped for pizza and more beer, heading to Starsky’s apartment to shower and watch a late movie.

Starsky stood in the kitchen, feeling his warm skin and the buzz from the many beers they had consumed that afternoon. He looked into the living room where Hutch laid sprawled across his couch in a pair of white muslin draw-string pants and no shirt or socks. His shocking blond hair stood out against his reddish-brown tanned body.

The last thing he remembered was laying down with his head in Hutch’s lap and they both fell asleep without remembering to turn the lights off or lock up.

Sitting up, he smiled at how Hutch had somehow re-positioned himself to where he was spread out along the length of the couch, pressed against the back as he had held Starsky close to his chest so he wouldn’t have fallen onto the floor.

“Always, protectin’ me,” Starsky whispered to himself with a smile. He groaned, dragging himself into a sitting position, holding both sides of his head to help stop the room from making a lazy spin.

He plodded into the bathroom, relieved himself, then washed his face and hands and brushed his teeth. When he came out, Hutch had flung himself on his back, his right arm across his eyes, and was snoring softly.

In the kitchen, Starsky prepped the coffee pot and turned it on, digging in the fridge drawers for bacon, sausage, and eggs. He grabbed the toaster from out under the sink and plugged it in. He passed Hutch, glancing down with a fond smile, and opened the front door to skip down the steps to grab the morning paper. Back in the kitchen, he prodded the bacon and sausage in the fry pan and sat down, spreading the paper out before him on the kitchen table to read.

Finishing up an article he had been reading, he heard Hutch begin to wake up. He had long finished frying the bacon and sausage and had transferred the meat to a plate, placing it in the oven to keep warm. He now got up to break and scramble the eggs and start the toast.

“Breakfast in ten,” he said loudly towards the living room. He heard Hutch’s feet hit the floor, and a grumpy mumble as he headed to the bathroom. By the time the eggs and toast were done, Starsky had divided the food between two plates and produced a fresh cup of coffee for Hutch.

“Damn,” Hutch smiled wearily. “You do love me.”

“With all’a my heart,” Starsky winked happily. “Siddown and enjoy. It’s already eleven o’clock.”

“God…I slept that late?” Hutch blinked, grabbing some butter and boysenberry jam for his toast.

“Yep. You needed it obviously.” Starsky reached for his coffee, sipping carefully.
“All that sun and fresh air yesterday.” Hutch peppered his eggs and then took a bite, closing his eyes blissfully. “Delicious! Simply delicious!”

“Why, thank you kind sir.” Starsky laughed. “Yes, the beach will do a number on ya for sure. I slept like the dead.”

“Me, too.” Hutch leaned back, eyeing the newspaper. He sighed, digging into some more bacon. “What’s on for today?”

“Probably nothing,” Starsky said. He gathered his plate and mug and rinsed them in the sink. “I mean…it is already after eleven and by the time we get our shit together, the day is done.”


“Yeah…you have to leave by one o’clock…remember?” Starsky deliberately watched Hutch’s face. There was nothing to see.

“Oh, yeah.” Hutch nodded. “So…just hang out and whatever?”


Starsky walked past Hutch to his bedroom to climb into some jeans and a tee shirt.


Hutch rested his arm across his eyes, his chest heaving.

“That good, eh?”

He looked out of the corner of his eye to his bed partner and snickered. “Yeah…that good.”

“Damn, I’m fine.”

“Yes, yes you are.” Hutch smiled. He felt strong fingers rubbing his chest and he clasped the hand to stop the motion. “Tickles.” He grinned.

“Hey…what’s on your mind?”


“Liar.” A soft nip on is arm and then an apologizing kiss. “I wish I were the only one.”

“You are.” Hutch felt the hated accusation that sometimes took over after a heated afternoon of lovemaking.

“Don’t feel like it.”

“There is no one else.”

The body beside him pulled away, soft breathing and swallows punctuating the air.
Hutch sighed, rolling up and onto his bedmate and looked down with a soft smile.

“You are the only one. There is no one else.” He leaned in and kissed the man’s lips gently. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.”

“But there is someone else. I can feel it.” The man reached up and held Hutch’s face gently, kissing him back. “Whomever it was that broke your heart so bad, if I ever meet him, I’ll hurt him. Someone has hurt you really, really bad.”

“No one has hurt me,” Hutch said softly. “No one. I don’t know what to do to make you believe that.”

“I feel….I feel like you are searching for something…someone…” the man spoke softly. “Like…you are missing someone. I just want you to be happy, Ken. That is all.”

Hutch smiled, reaching between their bodies to stroke the man’s penis gently. “I am happy. You make me happy, Levi. No one else.”


Starsky leaned against the gnarly bark of the old elm tree and stared up to the third-floor apartment windows where he last saw Hutch and his male friend standing. He had secretly followed Hutch again, leaving the bar and both men walking lazily to the apartment building three blocks away. He had watched Hutch stand looking out the windows, before the man had come up behind him, gathered him in a hug and then closed the curtains. Sighing heavily, he turned and walked towards the little park and found a bench by the pond and sat down.

Squinting into the distance, he wondered what he was going to do, and why in the world couldn’t Hutch come clean and be truthful? He knew Hutch swung both ways, but suddenly stopped cold turkey and didn’t look at a man ever again since joining the Academy.

He sighed, closing his eyes. He himself hadn’t been with a man since Vietnam, and suddenly Bradley Wentworth’s face appeared in his mind as if he were standing in front of him.

Bradley, with his wavy brown hair, dark brown eyes and easy smile. Bradley wasn’t the first male he had ever been with, but had been a long-term lover. They were together in the same platoon and their relationship was the best-kept secret in the unit. God, how he loved Bradley. The man was strong, fierce, supportive, gentle, and their love-making was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

But then another vision of Bradley appeared and it was of him in death: his face partially blown off, his stomach sliced open by the VC and his cold, lifeless body laying in mud and blood.

He hadn’t had a man since that day.

But he had begun to see Hutch in more than being a friend, and because he hadn’t seen Hutch show interest in another man since the Academy, he kept his realization to himself.


Hutch sulked into the squad room, blearily searching the interior until he saw his partner standing by the water cooler, talking with Babcock and Simonetti. He sighed, throwing his jacket over the back of his chair and heading to the coffee pot.

“Hutchinson! My office! Now!” Dobey’s voice boomed from the cracked door.

Starsky glanced up and began to move towards is partner when Dobey added, “Just Hutchinson!”

Hutch shrugged and grinned towards his partner, heading towards their captain’s door.

Starsky sighed, even though the door was closed, you could hear Dobey’s angry voice elevated…even though you couldn’t make out the exact words.

“Someone is getting’ an ass chewing,” Simonetti sniffed, rolling his eyes.

“Looks like it,” Starsky sighed, eyeing the office door.

“Well, it was just a matter of time.” Simonetti sipped from the paper cup of water.

“Matter of time?” Starsky asked.

“Well, yeah. Everyone is aware that Hutchinson comes in here an hour or so late on Monday mornings all exhausted and dragging ass. Dobey was bound to say something beings it went on for so long.”

“Oh.” Starsky said. So, everyone had noticed as well.

“Well, that debunks the theory around here that you two are boinking each other,” Babcock teased, shoving Starsky’s shoulder. “Unless your stamina is on an Olympic level and the marathons don’t effect you like it does Hutch.”

“Hey…my stamina can keep up with ten women at once,” Starsky boasted laughing. “Never worry about me, thank you.”

“So then maybe you are wearing Hutch out,” Simonetti began to laugh. “Jesus. Enough already. Nothing gets you riled anymore, does it?”

“Nope. Teasing and ribbing doesn’t bother me,” Starsky said. “Now, unless you get up close and personal about truths that aren’t anyone’s business, then I’m on you like stink on shit.”


The door to Dobey’s office opened and Hutch walked out, shuffling tiredly and headed for his chair. He ran his hands through his hair, then sat down heavily.

“Coffee, Blondie?”

“No. C’mon…let’s get this day over with.” Hutch grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“Later, guys,” Starsky smiled, trailing after his partner.


Starsky sat at his desk, the pencil tapping against his thumb. He finished the page he was on, licked his finger and thumb and flipped it over. He sighed, wiggling in his chair to relieve the numbness in his butt and then sighed, shielding his eyes with his left hand.

“Anything bothering you, Starsk?” Hutch asked, busy reading his own report.

“No, why?”

“You seem antsy,” Hutch noted. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Jesus, talk about leaving a door open for discussion. Starsky sighed, lowering his head.

“No, Hutch. Nothing to talk about.”

“You’d tell me if there was, right?”

“Yep. Just like you, right?” He glanced up to see if Hutch would catch the meaning of the last word, but he didn’t.

“Yeah. For sure.”

Starsky grunted and shook his head.

It was Thursday, and for some reason the day was creeping slower than a snail. Starsky kept glancing at the clock and groaned when he saw time had hardly passed.

“Always knew you were a clock watcher,” Hutch teased.

“Huh. Pot calling the kettle black.” Starsky laughed.

Dobey’s door opened and the big man stuck his head out. He glanced around the room and his eyes landed on Starsky and Hutch.

“Starsky, Hutchinson,” he barked. “Murder. Address is 5203 West Garland, apartment 310.”

“On it, Cap!” Starsky jumped up, shoving his chair in. He glanced at Hutch who simply sat there, his face blank and not moving. “C’mon…Hutch! Let’s go! Gotta get there before the scene is contaminated….”

“Yeah…yeah…” Hutch suddenly jumped up, grabbing his jacket and shoved past his partner, practically running down the hall.

They got to the Torino, slammed the doors and squealed out onto the street, Hutch slamming the Mars light to the top of the car.

“Murder,” Starsky sighed. “What’s wrong with people?”

Hutch kept a grim face and stared straight ahead out the front window.

By the time Starsky realized where he was heading, he swallowed thickly and blinked.
No…no…oh, Hutch…no…

Starsky braked the Torino hard, making it rock back and forth on chassis. They exited the car, Hutch already ahead of him, racing up three flights of stairs and skidding to a stop in front of door 310. Starsky watched as he took a deep breath and shoved the door open.

They carefully searched the apartment, finding the body in the back in the master bedroom where uniformed officers stood quietly.

Starsky reached down gently and felt for a pulse, and then sighed, shaking his head.

“He’s gone.” Starsky said softly. He watched Hutch carefully. Hutch simply stood there, looking down at the man on the bed as if in shock and disbelief. “Hey…you alright?”

“Huh?” Hutch looked up, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly.

“You know him, Hutch?” Starsky watched carefully.

“No…n-n-no…” Hutch blinked, staring.

“You sure…”

Starsky motioned for the officers to give them some privacy and watched as they left the room, shoving their little notebooks in their breast pockets.

“Damn.” Hutch swore quietly, kneeling down beside the bed and reaching out to touch the limp hand hanging over the side.

“Hutch…don’t touch…” Starsky began but then stood transfixed as Hutch gently took the man’s hand and held it, never breaking eye contact with the man’s face.

Kneeling forward, Hutch rested his forehead against the mattress and gripped the man’s hand hard. He felt the hot sting of tears and he began to tremble.

“Hey, hey,” Starsky said softly. “Talk to me..”

“Levi.” Hutch whispered. “Oh, god…Levi…”

“So you do know him.” Starsky went and stood behind Hutch, reaching out to place both hands on Hutch’s shoulders. “I’m sorry…Hutch….how did you know him?”

Hutch shook his head, looking up into the silent face.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hutch mumbled, standing up.

Starsky looked down at the body, sprawled out on the bed. The man was dressed in black boxers with jalapeno pepper print and a gold chain around his neck. The man was maybe five foot six, dark wavy hair and blue eyes. Thick chest hair and it tapered thinly and vanished under the waistband of his boxers.

“Hutch…I’m sorry,” Starsky said gripping his arm. “We gotta do this…friend or not.”

“I know.”

They canvassed the room for clues, Starsky noticing how Hutch seemed to know where to look and seemed more determined than other homicides they had worked. He searched the man’s closet, drawers, bathroom, seeming to be familiar and at home in the apartment. By the time the coroner arrived and all the photos were taken, Hutch stood back as the body was bagged and wheeled out of the apartment and into the van.

“Hey, let’s get out of here,” Starsky said, gently taking Hutch’s arm. Looking pale and lost, Hutch had simply nodded, turning to follow his partner out of the apartment and then pausing to watch as the apartment manager locked the door.

Standing outside in the afternoon sun, Hutch squinted as the coroner van started to move away and then disappear around a corner. Sighing heavily, he hung his head and blinked.

“How did you know him, Hutch?” Starsky asked gently, reaching out to touch his friend. Hutch moved away, his lower lip trembling.

“He was a….friend…” Hutch said shakily.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your friend,” Starsky hung an arm around Hutch’s shoulders.
“I really am.”

“Thanks.” Hutch sniffed. He then stood up straighter, sighing. “Let’s canvas the apartment building and see if anyone saw anything out of order…someone not belonging there…”

“Sure…sure…” Starsky agreed. “Split up…get it done faster.”

The men turned back to the apartment complex, Starsky taking the first floor and Hutch the second floor. When Starsky was done, he skipped the second floor and hit the third floor, while Hutch went on to finished up with the fourth floor.

Two and a half hours later they met outside, leaning against the Torino.

“Damn.” Hutch sighed, stuffing his little notebook in his hip pocket. “Humanity sucks.”

“Yeah.” Starsky agreed. He squinted at his partner, thoughts stumbling over themselves in his brain. He had spoken to quite a few neighbors who all told the same story: Levi Garrett left his apartment every morning at six am on the dot. He worked at the candy factory until four, then came home, checked in on the elderly man at the end of the hall to see if he needed anything, then went back to his own apartment and wasn’t seen until he repeated the same routine the next day and the next. Sundays were different: he took his laundry to the basement laundry where there were four washers and dryers for the tenants. He’d do his laundry, clean his apartment while listening to music, and then leave at exacally twelve-forty-five to go to Mulligan’s Bar three blocks away. Around eight or nine o’clock he’d come home with his blond male friend in tow and Levi would get up at six o’clock on the Monday morning, go to work and then two hours later his blond friend would leave silently, locking up behind him.

Starsky knew for a fact Levi’s blond male friend was Hutch.

“C’mon, lets get out of here.” Hutch snapped, shoving himself off of the Torino and climbing into the front seat.

“Wanna…” Starsky asked, climbing in.

“No…take me straight home,” Hutch said. “I just want to go home, Starsk.”

After a traveling in silence to Venice Place, Starsky pulled up gently, easing the Torino behind a Volkswagen. “Want me…”

“No…no…” Hutch said, climbing out and slamming the door. He ducked down, blinking. “I…I…just need…to be alone for a bit.”

“Okay, partner.” Starsky frowned. “Call me if ya need me, okay?”

“Yeah. Night, Starsk.”

Starsky waited until Hutch entered the vestibule of his apartment and climbed the stairs before he put the Torino in gear and drove around the block. He pulled into the back alley of Chez Helens, the restaurant below Hutch’s apartment, and parked the Torino in the farthest parking spot he could find. He got out, locked the car up, and then trotted to the back entrance to Chez Helens.

The kitchen workers nodded hello and smiled when he cut through, heading to the front exit that shared the same vestibule as Hutch’s upstairs apartment. He climbed the stairs quietly, reaching the top in record time. He leaned his ear against the door, listening.

There it was: the soft whimpering cry of his partner, wanting to mourn the death of his friend by himself. Sighing, Starsky sat down on the top step and buried his face in his hands. It broke his heart to hear Hutch so upset. He wanted to knock and let himself in, but he knew he had to wait. Why wouldn’t Hutch just simply tell him that the murdered man was more than just a friend? Starsky knew him to be Hutch’s new lover.

Starsky leaned against the newel post and blinked, Hutch’s sobs continuing and sometimes getting louder and then fading as if Hutch was walking around his apartment, not being able to sit still and mourn. He heard Hutch grow quiet, then the slam of a phone. The receiver hitting the cradle so hard it made the bell ring out in protest.
Was Hutch trying to call him? Did Hutch need him? Who was he calling? He sighed, leaning back against the wall, stretching his feet out in front of him. Patrons to Chez Helen’s wandered in, glancing up at him and then hurrying through the door to the restaurant. Sighing, he finally stood up and adjusted his jacket. He placed his hand on the door knob, turning it gently he shoved it open.

“It’s just me,” he announced. He entered the darkened apartment, finding Hutch seated at his chipped kitchen table.

Hutch looked up with such sadness it broke Starsky’s heart. He hurried over, kneeling before his friend.

“How can I make this a little better for you, Hutch?” he whispered.

Hutch’s swollen eyes and blotchy face stared back at him, his lower lip quivering.

“I don’t know.” Hutch said pitifully.

“Awe, partner.” Starsky stood up, wrapping his friend in his arms. “I hate it when you hurt.” Starsky rested his lips against the crown of Hutch’s head. He kissed gently. “You love those close to you with such fierceness. And it hurts like hell when they leave you…on their own accord or snatched from you, like your friend Levi was taken today. I can’t begin to tell you how incredibly sorry I am.”

As Starsky held his friend, he felt the large man begin to shake, his shoulders heaving as great sobs escaped his mouth. Hutch cried, gripping Starsky’s arm painfully. Starsky simply held on, letting Hutch purge himself of his loss, the only thing he could do was lend his support and silent love.

When Hutch finally brought his emotions somewhat under control, he leaned against Starsky’s stomach but still clutched the man’s arm. “I didn’t deserve a friend like him.”

“Why not?” Starsky asked quietly.

“Because….because…he knew…I was…using him…” Hutch said shamefully.

“Using him?” Starsky asked, deciding to play dumb.

“Yeah.” Hutch looked away closing his eyes. “The last time we were together, he told me he knew it wasn’t him I wanted to be with…that there was someone else…that wasn’t with me…who hurt me…” Hutch swallowed, staring off into space. He was on autopilot and Starsky didn’t interrupt him. “I assured him that wasn’t the truth…but he knew it was. No matter what…Levi always welcomed me with no questions…until recently. He began to ask questions…ones I couldn’t answer…”

“The answers will come in time.” Starsky said. “When you are ready.”

Hutch nodded, looking down, his fingers gently rubbing Starsky’s arm. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

“Did Levi have any family that we can notify?” Starsky asked carefully.

“No. No one.” A single tear escaped Hutch’s eye and rolled down his cheek.

“Okay,” Starsky said, glancing around.

“He had no one.” Hutch whispered.

“He had you,” Starsky said without thinking. “He had you for a friend…”

Hutch gently pushed Starsky’s arm away and stood up. He turned and faced his partner, staring into his eyes. “He was more than a friend. He was….” Hutch paused, blinking.

Starsky waited patiently, waiting for Hutch to finally tell the truth. But as Starsky watched, Hutch suddenly deflated and headed to the bedroom where he threw himself on his bed, face down. Starsky followed patiently, sitting on the side of the bed and waited.

“Is it such a hard thing to say, Hutch?” Starsky whispered quietly.

“What?” Hutch asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Is it such a hard thing to say that he was your lover?” Starsky asked. He watched as Hutch went still and then he rolled over, laying on his left side to stare up at his friend.

“You knew?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. Only for a short time, though. Why didn’t you tell me, Hutch? I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.”

“I know.” Hutch said, reaching out to hold Starsky’s hand. After a long silence, Hutch sighed. “It’s been years since…since…I’ve needed…someone…” He licked his lips, closing his eyes. “Years. So many years.”

“I know.” Starsky sat down on the side of the bed, still holding Hutch’s hand. “I remember.”

“Levi was a good man.” Hutch spoke quietly. “I sure didn’t deserve him in my life.”

“Well, anyone having you in their life would be damn lucky,” Starsky said firmly. “I just don’t understand why you felt you had to keep this from me, partner. I really don’t.”

Hutch turned to lie flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. “I…I…don’t have an answer…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Starsky sighed. “C’mon, lets get you cleaned up and something to eat.”


Hutch stood in the tiny room at the Hillsborough Memorial Parlor and fidgeted in his dark Navy-blue suit. The tiny gold urn sat on a podium draped in red velvet. The funeral parlor attendant stood silent as a non-denominational minister read prayers and a few psalms. Hutch sighed heavily, leaning forward to place a single white carnation at the base of the urn, turning to the funeral director and smiled weakly.

“Thank you. I just wish Levi had family…” he began lamely.

“I’ve known Levi for a few years,” the man said softly. “He was kind, generous to a fault. Knowing he had no family he made his last wishes known. I am just glad he had you in his life at the end.”

Hutch sighed. “What happens to him now?” He nodded towards the urn.

“He’ll be placed in a vault in the Memory Garden.”

Hutch nodded, glancing at the minister. “Thank you.”

“If you need anything,” the man leaned forward, gently shaking Hutch’s hand. “Grief counseling…someone to simply talk to…”

“I appreciate it, thank you.” Hutch shook the man’s hand and then turned and gently rubbed the front of the urn. Closing his eyes, he simply turned and walked away.


Starsky dribbled the basketball, his eyes boring into Hutch’s face with intensity.

“Gonna float right by ya, Blintz!”

“Mohammed Ali you aren’t,” Hutch laughed, crouching low, his legs moving side to side.

“Don’t blink…I’ll hurt ya.” Starsky made a false start, stopped, and then leaped, positioning the basketball high. He shoved off with the tips of his fingers, whooping loudly as the ball sailed through the net hitting nothing but the strings on its way to bounce off of the asphalt. “Didja see that? Didja see that!” Starsky pranced around like he was Mick Jagger in concert.

Hutch laughed, bending down over his knees, looking up through sweaty eyes. “You’re the man, Starsk. NBA should be callin’ you any day now.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Starsky laughed, grabbing the ball and dribbling like a pro.

“Don’t know why any of the pro teams hasn’t scooped you up by now,” Hutch went on. “I mean…with your skills…I thought you’d have the pick of the crop.”

“Dunno, Blintz.” Starsky exhaled, squinting down court. “Maybe they just can’t afford me.”

“True. True.” Hutch loved it when they played around like that.

Starsky stood there, bouncing the ball from his left hand to his right hand, watching Hutch watch him.

“You okay, buddy?” Starsky asked softly. It had been five weeks since Levi’s murder, and they had solved it quite easily. A delivery man on the spur of the moment decided to shove his way in, take what he wanted easily, and fought with Levi until Levi was knifed in the back, staggering to his bed to fall and die alone.

Hutch glanced over at his partner affectionately. “Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Starsky smiled faintly. “That’s what friends are for, you know. Support.”

Hutch nodded. He sighed, “I don’t deserve you, either.” Hutch said it so softly, shaking his head.

Starsky dropped the basketball and then stomped his foot on it to make it stay still. He walked briskly over to his partner and stood right in front of him.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” Starsky said, his tone low. “We are it. We are partners. Brothers. Closethanthis…don’t you ever fuck with it. You are mine, I am yours. Pick that apart any which way you need to, but it will always come out the same: Me ‘n Thee. Never ever doubt what you mean to me.” Starsky paused for a breath and then said, “You deserve so much more than I can give you right now…” Starsky swallowed, letting the sentence trail off. He saw Hutch’s eyes snap to his and his eyebrows raise up a little.

“Starsk?” he said in wonder.

“Don’t pick it apart, I said.” Starsky snapped. “Let it be for now. That’s all I ask.”

Hutch watched as Starsky turned and walked away stiffly, bending down to pick up the basketball and head towards the Torino. Blinking, still frozen in place at the implication he heard in that one sentence, he shook himself and turned to gape at his partner. He watched as Starsky made it to the Torino, threw the basketball in the back seat and just before he climbed into the car, he paused at the hood, staring back at him. With a slight nod and faint smile, Starsky climbed in, slammed the door, and waited for Hutch to shake himself back to the present and join him.



Starsky sat at his kitchen table, staring at his partner. It had been two months since Levi’s death, and Hutch still seemed to be out of sorts now and then. He didn’t know what else to do in the way of distraction or comfort, and he knew Hutch’s many moods and how he distanced himself from others, a defense tactic he learned as a child. He had learned at such a young age that he didn’t ask anyone for help, lean on anyone for support or depend on anyone for emotional soothing. He had once told Starsky that if he didn’t ask or expect anything from anyone, he didn’t give them a way to hurt or disappoint him.

It had taken almost a year from the Academy for Hutch to realize Starsky was the real deal: it was from his boyish partner he learned to trust another human being. He learned Starsky never left him, stayed close, only gave advice if and when he asked…and then soon didn’t wait and gave it freely. The way his partner always touched him: squeeze on the arm, back of the neck, playful slap on the head, gentle shove through a door, teasing. God, the constant teasing. He soon learned to give back what he got. And God, how beautiful it was! There were times when he felt that he and Starsky were the only ones who spoke a secret code, were the only two people in his world. Surely they interacted with their co-workers, Huggy was in their circle, Captain Dobey and his family allowed in, but that was pretty much it.

“Seems like you have something on your mind,” Starsky said quietly, twirling his bottled beer in the circle of condensation on the table. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’d like to,” Hutch glanced up from the newspaper that was spread in front of him. “I’ve been waiting for you to….bring it up.”

“Anything specific?” Starsky asked, knowing darn well what Hutch was talking about.

“Well, I don’t want to pick anything apart.” Hutch said, watching his partner’s face.

“Ahh.” Starsky nodded. “It’s time, then.”

“I’ll take your lead,” Hutch said, shoving the paper to one side. “You go first.”

“Okay,” Starsky swallowed. “Hutch…I knew from the Academy that you now and then got with men. And you knew I was okay with it.”


“How come you didn’t tell me about Levi? You never introduced us, never talked about him…”

“I know.”

“I guess it is still none of my business then.” Starsky sighed. “I just…thought…that we didn’t keep secrets? You think that I’d have a problem with you and Levi? You’re my best friend, Hutch. I love you more than a brother. You mean so much to me…”

“Starsky.” Hutch leaned forward, staring him in the eye. “Can I tell you something?”

“Hutch,” Starsky said, exasperated. “Aren’t you listening to what I am saying? You can tell me anthing!”

“Levi…Levi knew I couldn’t give my entire self to him,” Hutch said softly. He glanced down at the table, then back up to his partner’s face.

“Yeah? Why was that?”

“Because, there was…still is…a part of me that I can’t give my entire self to one person,” Hutch said. “I mean…I can…”

“It’s me,” Starsky said gently.

“Yes,” Hutch nodded. “It’s you. I realized a few years ago I had fallen in love with you. Real sappy love: just hearing your voice made me smile, watching you move about the squad room got me hard, not being around you made me worry and seek you out. Starsk, I’ve never had anyone like you in my life and I can’t get enough of you.”

Starsky chewed his lower lip and nodded. “Hutch…”

“Don’t,” Hutch said suddenly, leaning back. “This is why I keep people at arm’s distance. My parents taught me well not to depend on anyone because what I always give, is never returned.”

“Hutch!” Starsky said sharply. “That’s not true!”

“The fuck it isn’t!” Hutch jumped up, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to not give all of myself. It is all or nothing. And I get shit.”

“You don’t get shit from me!” Starsky growled, jumping up to stand in front of his partner. “I give you everything I can! My time, my home, anything I have is yours! I will take a bullet for you, die for you, do everything in my power…”

“Stop right there,” Hutch held up his hand, closing his eyes. “Don’t say another word.”

Starsky paused, his breathing heavy. He watched as Hutch headed to the door, then paused.

“Don’t walk out that door, Hutchinson!” Starsky’s tone was low.

“Why not? I’m not going to stand here…”

Starsky quickly closed the distance, reaching out and locking the door.

“Huh, that’s supposed to stop me from leaving?” Hutch asked in disbelief. “Let me tell you something…”

“No, let me tell you something,” Starsky said loudly. He grabbed Hutch’s arm and tried to pull him back into the living room but Hutch wouldn’t move.

“You told me once that I deserved more than you could give me.” Hutch said. “Explain.”

Starsky sighed, nodding. “Hutch…I do love you. You know that.”

“And you know I am in love with you,” Hutch closed his eyes.

“We have to sit down and talk, Hutch. I’ve got something to tell you.”



Hutch watched Starsky’s face as he began to talk about growing up a new kid in Bay City, California as a twelve-year old. He made friends easily, his aunt and uncle’s house always a bustle of boys eating, laughing, and playing ball in the back yard. He did what he called “circle jerks” with a few boys from the neighborhood and that was it. It wasn’t until he joined the Army and for the first time felt an instant attraction to the same sex when he met PFC Bradley Wentworth.

“At the time, it kinda amazed me that I was into him like that,” Starsky said quietly. “I mean…I’d always fucked girls…made love to some of ‘em…but Brad…god…it was love, Hutch. I loved him so much. The day he was killed in action…something shut down inside me. It was like my mind blocked him out, a piece of my heart frozen with ice.”

“God, Starsk…I never…I never knew…” Hutch began softly, reaching out.

“I ignored it.” Starsky said. “But I watched you flirt, eye guys. It came natural to you. I knew you were bi…didn’t bother me one bit. But then we joined the Academy and you were strictly babes. I never caught you eyeing a guy ever again. I thought you were done ‘experimenting’ and put it all behind you.”

“No. I just…didn’t find anyone…” Hutch stammered, lowering his eyes.

“That resembled me.” Starsky said.

“Yeah.” Hutch nodded.

“Until Levi.”

Starsky sighed, sucking his lower lip. “Hutch…I’ve loved you forever. I just didn’t say or do anything because I thought that part of your life was done with. I wasn’t going to rock the boat. I was just thankful for what we have, the closeness and intimacy with touching and being so close.” Starsky sighed. “But when you suddenly after many years started changing our routine up I got suspicious. You weren’t talking. Hutch…I knew about you and Levi.”

“You did?” Hutch’s eyes flew to Starsky’s face.

“Yes.” Starsky exhaled. “I followed you one night. I saw you in the window.”

Hutch blinked and then shook his head.

“I’m sorry. Just that I saw you and didn’t recognize the guy you were with,” Starsky said.

“I sure didn’t deserve that man.” Hutch whispered again. “He was so…understanding. Many times he begged me to tell the person I was longing for how I felt. He figured it out that it was you one night. He wasn’t mad or anything. He just wanted me to be happy.”

“Awe, Hutch.” Starsky smiled.

Hutch leaned back in his chair, blinking. His emotions were so close to the surface that he was sure the tears would fall soon. His nose stung, the tell-tale that he couldn’t hold back much longer. He tapped the table top with his fingers and swallowed thickly.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Starsky leaned forward, taking Hutch’s hand in his. “Look, I haven’t made love to a man since I was in Vietnam. I am sure it is like riding a bike…”

“Starsky, Jesus!” Hutch looked up, sounding shocked and amused at Starsky’s choice of

“I love you, Hutch. That’s what I am trying to say here.”

Hutch looked up and sighed. “I love you, too. Been in love with you since the first time we met in that bar way before the Academy.”

“And you said and did nothing,” Starsky said.

“No, because you showed no interest either way,” Hutch reminded him. “I never knew about Bradley.”

“Yeah. He was a part of my military I buried with the rest of it,” Starsky admitted.

“So, where do we go from here?” Hutch asked without thinking. When he saw Starsky’s smile, he blushed. “I didn’t mean….”

“Well, if we’re being truthful here, I’d like for you to finally get the answer to a statement you made a long, long time ago.” Starsky grinned, standing up. He reached for Hutch, pulling him up and out of his chair.

“Yeah? What statement would that have been?” Hutch frowned. He watched as Starsky pulled him closer, their hips together, their groins rubbing.

Starsky gently took Hutch’s face in his hands and leaned in. Closing his eyes, not caring if Hutch was on the same page or not, he gently kissed Hutch’s lips.

Hutch’s lips were soft, pliant, and warm. His heart thudded hard against his chest when he suddenly felt Hutch’s lips part, and the tip of Hutch’s tongue roam across his upper lip and then shove in to feel the contour of his teeth.

“Awe, Hutch. Damn.” He breathed, taking the kiss deeper.

Lips mashed together, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, the finally broke apart, chests heaving for fresh in-take of air.

“So?” Starsky asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“So, what?” Hutch asked, his eyes soft, his lips red and swollen.

“Am I a good kisser?” Starsky’s smile spread across his face, his eyes bright.

“Oh, yeah,” Hutch grinned, leaning in to capture Starsky’s mouth again. “Oh, yeah. Just like everything else we do…perfect…just perfect…”

“Is there anything else you want to know about me?” Starsky kept on, his grin full of play.

“Oh yes,” Hutch caught on, laughing. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Well, you are the kind of guy who learns from both hands-on and book smarts,” Starsky whispered in his friend’s ear, making sure his lips tickled the outer shell. “I’m sure you’ve read plenty of books…now you get to do the hands-on clinical stuff…”

“Jesus,” Hutch breathed.

“No, babe,” Starsky smiled, reaching down to cup Hutch’s genitals that were painfully swollen in the tan cords. “No one else but us…” Starsky squeezed gently and then turned, heading to Hutch’s bedroom, pulling him along. “C’mon, Hutch. Soon you’ll know all about me.”
Hutch staggered behind his partner, his mouth open and the flush of heat on his cheeks.

They stood beside Hutch’s double bed, Starsky staring him in the eye as he began to undress. He did it slowly, as if doing a strip tease. Hutch quickly began to get out of his clothes, and then their eyes, on their own accord, lowered and they checked each other out openly.

They had showered together a million times, but never lingered at each other’s equipment before. Sure, they had helped each other out in time of incapacity from surgeries, convalescence, and drunkenness. But this new road they were about to travel on was completely and utterly new and sacred.

“Like what you see, Blondie?” Starsky asked quietly, a little hope in his voice.

Hutch licked his lip and then looked into Starsky’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Starsky smiled, moving closer to reach out and gently take Hutch’s cock in his hand and marveled when he felt the skin slide easily over the hard penis. Watching the tip of the penis become funny unsheathed, he looked up to see Hutch staring at him, his eyes smoky with want.

“Incredible.” Starsky breathed. “I’ve seen uncut guys before, but of course never touched…or seen one come out of its shell…”

Hutch chuckled, always amused at the words his partner used to describe things.

“Well, I’m sure within no time you will know all about him,” Hutch kissed Starsky’s eyes and then nibbled at the corner of his mouth. “Every…single…inch of him…” He felt Starsky shudder and then lean back.

“Ugh…Hutch…” Starsky suddenly seemed a little alarmed.

“What?” Hutch frowned, starting to get tiny needles of worry prick him.

“Do you have anything? To use?” Starsky asked.

“Shit.” Hutch lowered his head and sighed. “Not here. I never brought…I’ve never…”

“It’s okay,” Starsky said, then he smiled. “The kitchen? You have any Crisco or something thick like that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hutch blinked, then hurried to the kitchen and came back with a tiny container of Crisco grease. He peeled the lid off, the thickness looking impossibly white.
The two of them simply stood there, staring at the grease as if it would tell them something incredible that they’d never heard before.

Starsky broke the silence by grabbing Hutch’s hips and pulling him forward again, recapturing the lips he loved to kiss and nibble. Hutch walked him backwards towards the bed, hooking a leg behind Starsky’s knee and following him down onto the mattress.

They kissed as their hands roamed each other’s body, and then, laying on their sides they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I gotta have you, Starsk.” Hutch whispered, his swollen cock rubbing against Starsky’s thigh. “I’m gonna burst…”

“C’mon, then.” Starsky murmured, reaching down and stroking the leaking tip with his finger.

“Stop, stop,” Hutch gasped, gripping his wrist tightly. “Don’t. I’ll end before I start.”

“Light weight,” Starsky teased. Hutch growled and rolled on top of his partner.

“I’ll show you light weight.”

Starsky looked up into Hutch’s face and sighed. Hutch’s face was flushed but gentle, his eyes bright. His large hands were on each side of his head, and he leaned in to kiss him on the lips, cheeks, eyes, and ears.

“Ready for this?” Hutch asked, leaning back and searching his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I’m more ‘n ready,” Starsky said, his hands gently caressing Hutch’s hips.

Starsky closed his eyes and gasped as Hutch began kissing him down his throat, sucking gently on his Adam’s apple, then nipping and licking along his collar bone. There was no place Hutch’s mouth ignored. By the time Hutch had sucked and roughly licked each nipple, Starsky was ready to go out of his mind.

His last male lover had been Bradley, and he was shocked to learn he missed the firm, muscular body of a man. The strength that matched his, and the jutting cock that would give him so much pleasure that he hadn’t had in more years than he cared to admit. Just feeling Hutch’s sharp angles, big hands, strength and power almost sent him over the edge.

“Christ, Hutch,” Starsky gasped, sweat beading his face. “Slow down, slow down…I’m gonna explode…”

“Let’s take the edge off,” Hutch smiled, lowering his head to gently mouth the crown of Starsky’s cock. Starsky bucked up sharply, a whimper escaping his lips. “Like that, huh? Boy, I’m going to wring you inside out.”

Starsky thrashed his head back and forth, Hutch’s mouth doing wonderful things to his cock. For a fleeting moment, Bradley’s smiling face appeared behind his eyelids, and he gasped, his fingers digging into Hutch’s shoulders. He opened his eyes, watching Hutch’s blond head bob up and down, and when he saw Hutch’s mouth ease off and his tongue gently prod the slit, Starsky cried out and orgasmed painfully. Through hooded eyes he watched as Hutch quickly re-captured the pulsing member and swallowed everything offered.

Feeling every ounce of energy draining with the release of his orgasm, Starsky felt his bones turn to wet noodles as he melted into the mattress. Above him, he heard Hutch chuckle and begin to plant tiny kisses all over his chest, neck and face. Starsky quietly wondered if he was going to ever breath normally again, as his chest heaved alarmingly.

“Hey, light weight,” Hutch teased. “Rest up. That was just the opening act.”


Hutch groaned, his large hand reaching down to stoke his hard cock. Mumbling, he turned his face partially into the pillow and then jerked back, opening his eyes quickly.

“Ha,” Starsky chortled, kneeling over Hutch’s thighs. “It’s about time you woke up. Been lovin’ you for a bit now. Time to notch it up a peg.”

“What a way to wake up,” Hutch smiled warmly, reaching for him.

Their tongues danced and swirled, causing each of them to become more frantic. Finally, Starsky grabbed each of Hutch’s hands and pinned them above his head on the mattress.

“My show now, partner.”

The way Starsky said ‘partner’ melted Hutch’s heart, hell…whenever Starsky said that word it made his heart beat a little quicker, his body become a little warmer. It meant so much more than working partners, now it meant everything.

Starsky closed his eyes and concentrated on Hutch’s body. Hutch was taller by a few inches and a couple of more pounds, but Starsky was like a junk yard dog when he put his mind to something and could hold his own in any situation. Hutch’s body was moving, and his eyes bright and unfocused. Starsky loved seeing him like that: all that beauty and wonderful feelings Hutch was experiencing because of him. God, he could make Hutch feel like this forever.

Starsky mouthed the lose skin that collected at the base of Hutch’s penis and then licked from root to tip. Hutch’s gasps and frantic petting of his thick curls urged him on, and he sucked and licked for all he could. He moved lower to mouth and lick the furry sacs, then boldly raised up, scooting forward to position Hutch’s legs on his thighs. He reached for the can of Crisco, scooping out just enough to cover the tips of his fingers.

“Get ready, Hutch.” Starsky said quietly. “You’re fixin’ to blast outta here.”

He reached down, parting the meaty cheeks and gently rubbed back and forth on the tiny pucker of Hutch’s anus. Hutch’s whimpers increased, his moans deeper.

“Starsk…Starsk…” Hutch groaned.

“Easy, boy,” Starsky smiled. “It’s gonna happen, just enjoy the pre-flight preparations.”

Hutch shook his head with a faint smile. How he loved this man, his playful man-child of a partner.

Starsky leaned over, his left hand working the tiny opening, his right hand bracing him above Hutch’s chest. He began to kiss and lick Hutch’s lips, then nibbled his tongue when it probed Starsky’s mouth.

“Get ready, Hutch,” Starsky whispered, inserting a finger gently. Hutch moaned, his eyes closing in bliss.

“Ahh,” Hutch whispered. “Starsky…”

“Yeah, it’s me, boy,” Starsky smiled, glancing down to watch his hand moving between them. “Can I…Hutch…?”

Hutch opened his eyes, blinking. What was Starsky asking?

“Can I love you, Hutch? This way?” He pressed another finger in beside the other one, moving back and forth, in and out.

“Oh, yes,” Hutch hissed, his thighs tightening and relaxing. “Come on, don’t be a cock tease.”

Starsky laughed quietly, inserting another finger and then pressing up which made Hutch cry out, pressing back down hard on Starsky’s hand. “Yeah, yeah,” Starsky murmured. “That’s what I’m looking for. The sweet spot.”

Hutch’s body glistened with sweat, his hair plastered to his head. Starsky continued to stroke and probe, listening to Hutch whimper and cry out. It was music to his ears.

“Okay, Hutch.” Starsky smiled, reaching for the canister of Criso again. He scooped a generous portion out, and began to stoke and coat himself liberally. Then he massaged the rest on the spot he had just prepared. “Are you ready for me?”

“Been ready, partner.” Hutch opened his eyes and stared at his friend.

Starsky nodded and then guided himself to the opening and then pressed forward gently.

Oh, god. He threw his head back over his shoulders and took deep breaths and groaned. It was exquisite and the temptation to shove right in and work like a piston was hard to hold back. He bent forward, easing the rest of the way in, watching Hutch watch him. He watched as his cock vanished inch by inch and when he was fully inside his partner, he rested, looking up to see if Hutch was okay.

“Man,” Hutch smiled, reaching up to hold onto Starsky’s arms.

“Yeah.” Starsky nodded. God, the urge to move was more than he could bear. He moved slowly, the sensations exploding every cell of his body. “Oh, Hutch. Damn.”

“C’mon, I’m not one of your stewardesses,” Hutch whispered. “Give it to me.”

Starsky growled and began to move. Watching Hutch’s face during love making awed Starsky. His passion was so beautiful, the way his eyes fluttered open and closed, his mouth would go slack and then his tongue would lick his lips, teeth taking in his lower lip, the way his partners back arched to meet each stroke. Hutch’s hands petted his arms, gripped tight, then petted again. And Starsky learned that he loved listening to Hutch’s love-noises: whimpers, grunts, gasps, words uttered that couldn’t be understood.

“Starsk…Starsk…” Hutch moaned, gripping the sheets with both fists. “I can’t…I can’t…much longer…”

“Ride it out,” Starsky panted. “Take it as far as you can.”

Suddenly, Hutch’s thighs stiffened and his head reared back, a loud howl escaping his lips. Starsky looked on in wonder as Hutch’s anus gripped him tightly, milking him, as Hutch’s ejaculation erupted between them. The visual overload hit him hard, and he thrust two more times and then cried out his own release.


The end of summer barbecue was in full swing, and Captain Dobey watched over the mingling crowd like a king monitoring his kingdom. The picnic at the Dobey’s house was an annual thing…rotating shifts attending every other summer. Captain Dobey and Edith had it planned down to the last dinner roll, and everyone enjoyed the above ground pool, basketball court, the sandy beach down by the small brook that ran through the far end of the Dobey property, and the volley ball net set up behind the garage near the horseshoe pit.

The menu consisted of whatever covered dish everyone brought and the Dobey’s provided the hamburgers, hot dogs, and ribs.

Starsky sat on the big back deck under the large canopy, little Rosie Dobey cuddled up on his lap. She lazily rubbed her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand while she sucked the other thumb.

“Looks like someone is almost down for the count,” Hutch whispered, quietly placing a plate of ribs, two hot dogs with the works and two hamburgers and another plate of baked beans, cole slaw, potato salad, three bean salad, and an ear of corn in front of his partner.

“Shh,” Starsky smiled, pulling the little girl closer. “She’s almost asleep.”

Hutch trotted off to get his own plate of goodies and by the time he got back, Captain Dobey was gently picking his daughter up off of Starsky's shoulder and nodding his thanks to Starsky for getting her to sleep.

“Poor Rosie,” Starsky said, tucking a napkin under his chin and grabbing the biggest rib on his plate. “She’s gonna sleep through half the picnic.”

“Well, it is her usual nap time,” Hutch reasoned, taking a fork full of three bean salad.

Both men quietened down, paying more attention to their plates. When they were finally done, Starsky leaned back, patting his stomach.

“Didja see what the dessert table looked like?” he asked Hutch hopefully.

Hutch sighed, wiping his mouth. “We just got done pigging out…dessert can wait.”
Starsky began to whine and Hutch placed his hand over his partner’s mouth. “If you don’t stop, no dessert for you.”

Those sitting nearest to them began to laugh and tease and then suddenly, Starsky licked the palm of Hutch’s hand, which made Hutch retract his arm quickly, a pink tinge creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

“Gonna dump this,” Hutch said, hurrying away.

“Check out that dessert table and report back!” Starsky grinned, leaning back and winking at those around him.

Few minutes later, Hutch ambled back to the table carrying two small plates: one had chocolate cake, a brownie, a slab of apple pie, and four cherry cookies. The other plate held raw vegetables and some bleu cheese for dipping.

“That’s your dessert?” Starsky asked in horror.

“Yep,” Hutch smiled. “Got you a bit of everything just in case.” He sat down, and grinned. “Hurry up and finish that.”

“We’re at a picnic!” Starsky protested. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“It is past one o’clock,” Hutch said, swirling a carrot in the puddle of bleu cheese dressing. He stuck the carrot in his mouth and sucked and licked the white dressing off. He watched in fascination as Starsky’s eyes got big with realization and then lowered them, studying his plate. “It’s Sunday, you know.”