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Part 3A

SANCTUARY
by
Charlotte Frost

Part 3B

The alarm sounded and Hutch gasped again. Suddenly, the tongue was gone. He was sweating profusely in the semi-darkness, the sun having set. Aftershocks were still ricocheting through the nerves of his entire body. His cries had been exhausted a long time ago and he'd been left whimpering instead. His cock throbbed even though another orgasm was totally out of the question, his balls were so empty.

The alarm stopped. Starsky put the watch down. He, too, looked exhausted. "You were a good boy, Hutch," he stated simply. "It finally sunk in what I meant about just breathing in and breathing out, and realizing you have nothing to do with anything that happens to you."

Abruptly, Starsky was on top of him, his hot erection poking into Hutch's middle. He looked haggard, breathless. "I've got to have some more of this." He tilted his head.

Hutch parted his lips eagerly. He, too, was exhausted, but he could never stop doing this, sharing this intimacy that had no overt sexual connections. Starsky was now holding his head with one hand, cradling him, while continuing to kiss with that mouth that had sent him to a delicious place he had never been before.

Starsky pulled back, now leaving his lips, going down his chest instead. Planting a kiss here, there....

Then Starsky straightened and released a heavy breath. This time, his voice was apologetic. "I gotta come again, `cause I'm too horny to get you ready for me." He got on his knees, and straddled Hutch. Then he reached past him. A moment later pillows were supporting Hutch's head.

That huge thing was pointed right at him.

"Open your mouth, Hutch."

He opened it.

"You know how I like it nice and wet."

Hutch worked up a good helping of spit. He ran his tongue along his dry lips, moistening them.

Tender hands rested in his hair, along his jaw. "Gonna work it in farther. And come in your mouth."

Oh, God.

He felt strangely re-energized. He wished Starsky would let him milk that big thing. He was sure he would be good at it.

It was brought up to his mouth, and he opened wider for it. The smooth skin penetrated past his lips. That incredible thickness. The taut veins. The moisture at the tip as it pressed against the back of his throat, threatening his ability to breathe.

Accept it. Don't think.

"Move your tongue, Hutch."

Hard to suck, it took up so much room.

"'Kay," Starsky relented. "Gonna pull it back so just the head is in. Work the head, Hutch."

He whimpered with disappointment as it pulled back. But his wants did not matter. He closed around the head, lips wrapped around teeth. He put pressure against the sensitive underside behind the thick crown.

"Oh, my God." Starsky was panting now. Both his hands wrapped around the part that didn't fit comfortably.

"Milk it, Hutch."

He sucked it in, just the head. Continued using his tongue.

"Don't swallow it yet." Panting. Panting heavily. "Don't stop, Hutch. Don't stop."

And then Starsky was crying out, a low guttural sound, and only after that did Hutch feel a stream of fluid against the side of his mouth. Powerful taste. Don't swallow.

The sated flesh pulled back. Starsky collapsed onto an elbow. He spent a moment catching his breath, then stroked the side of Hutch's face with a feather touch. His lips fastened onto Hutch's and his tongue went crazy inside Hutch's mouth, trying to share. And then they ended up kissing leisurely.

"You can swallow now." Starsky seemed amused.

Hutch did. He ran his tongue along his teeth, while Starsky watched, then swallowed again.

"Ah, Hutch," Starsky panted, running his fingers along Hutch's lips. "My cock is crazy about your mouth. I'm crazy about your mouth."

Hutch grinned, glad that he'd made Starsky so happy.

Starsky sighed, almost reluctantly. "But we're moving on to even better things." He rose to his knees. "Gotta get you all ready for it."

A lamp was turned on over the bed, illuminating it. Hutch was aware that his legs were still perched up on the backs of the chairs. He thought he should move them, but it wasn't his responsibility so he didn't worry about it.

Starsky appeared between them with the tube of K-Y. He held up his middle finger and squeezed some of the runny substance onto it. Then the finger went below.

It probed at him, then pushed in. It worked around, just to the knuckle, stretching him outwardly. Hutch felt himself reacting to it, gripping it, the walls of his asshole quivering as the finger explored him.

After a few minutes Hutch realized that Starsky was only partially erect, and he wondered how it was going to get hard enough again. Not my responsibility.

The finger pushed in farther, his sphincter noting the second knuckle. The walls of his rectum reacted to the additional penetration. His muscle flexed convulsively, trying to draw it in farther.

Jesus God, I want all of him up my ass. That gigantic cock, and the rest of him, too. Tear me open, buddy. Put your entire self inside me.

Withdrawing. Pausing for more application of lubricant. Then greasy fingers pulling at the outer rim of his asshole, stretching it out. And then two fingers going inside there.

He grunted from the pressure.

Starsky looked up, but he kept working. Fingers wriggling around in that tight space.

Another pause. More lubricant. Three fingers now. Hutch whimpered as they pushed through the bunched muscle. It felt uncomfortable the way they bowed outward, stretching his insides. And then they pushed upward and a jolt of pleasure raced through his body. He thought he made a noise at the same time.

"What?" Starsky asked, pausing. "This?" He worked the fingers again, behind Hutch's testicles. And Hutch let his head fall back, and a low moan escaped his lips.

The fingers slowed, moved more deliberately. "I'm going to ask a question and you can answer either yes or no. Does this feel good?" Fingers massaged along his upper tract.

"Yessss."

The fingers stayed there. Before long, Hutch was whimpering again. The fingers of the other hand were still stimulating the outer part of his asshole - poking and stretching and stroking and pulling.

He would have gotten a hard-on, but his dick was dead.

And then everything was removed, leaving him feeling numb and empty.

"All right." Starsky was panting as he straightened. He lifted Hutch's right leg from the chair. "We don't need these anymore."

Hutch's leg swung heavily to the floor, and it was a relief to rest it. A moment later, the other one followed.

Starsky pushed the chairs away. "Get on your knees on the floor."

It didn't occur to him to even question the command. He knelt on the carpet in front of the bed, facing Starsky.

"Open your mouth."

Hutch did.

Starsky laid a gentle hand in his hair, guiding his erection with the other. His voice was tight with arousal. "Gotta get me all nice and hard so I can fuck you proper. You know how my prick loves your wet mouth."

Despite Starsky's obvious level of arousal, the thick flesh wasn't as hard as the other two times. "Just let it rest in there, where it's nice and wet."

It went to the back of his throat again. And stayed there.

"I can't even get it all the way inside your mouth, Hutch. But the whole thing is going up your ass."

Yes.

"That's what I was thinking about a few minutes ago. My fingers feeling all around the inside of your ass, and I'm thinking my big cock is going to get to feel all those things real soon. And it's going to reach up inside there a lot farther than my fingers did."

The hard flesh throbbed as Starsky talked.

"My prick is going to own you, Hutch."

Oh, God. Sweat broke out across his forehead.

Starsky pulled the huge thickness from his mouth. "Get the lubricant."

Hutch looked over his shoulder and saw the tube on the bed. He picked it up.

"Squeeze it all along the top of my cock."

Hutch's hand trembled as he brought it up to that thick, bold flesh. He turned the tube upside down, squeezing a stream along the entire length.

"Take your fingertips and rub it around. My whole dick has to be covered, Hutch, or it'll never make it up inside your ass."

He touched it near the base, reverently. He circled his fingertips around, spreading the lubricant, being so careful. It was the biggest mass of flesh he'd ever seen in his life. And it was so ready. Hot and hard and ready for him.

He was halfway up the barrel. Starsky said, "Spread it all the way back to the hairs. Because even the part way back there is going to be up inside you."

Oh, my God.

Hutch gulped. He spread the slippery gel all the way back to the pubic hairs. His whole body quivered as he moved his fingers underneath and treated the lower half the same... feeling the very top of the scrotal pouch.

If only he'd let me feel his nuts.... So tempting to be disobedient. Focus. Obey. He was now back to working it towards the crown.

Determined words. "My cock is going to marry us, Hutch."

Though his fingers stayed focused, Hutch skipped a breath.

"There aren't going to be any vows because none are needed. You don't have a voice, anyway. You don't have a choice. This is what's going to happen between us because I said so."

Hutch's fingers trembled as he stroked the gel over the ridge. Maybe this isn't a game, after all. He sounds so serious. Wants to marry me.... His heart fluttered and threatened to take flight from his chest.

Wants to marry me whether I want to or not.

He was breathing harshly, fingers shaking as they worked with the ultra smooth crown.

Taking me. Kidnapping me against my will. Because I have no will, because he took it away. Going to make this happen between us, so I can't protest. So I can't find reasons for it not to. As though he knew I'd find reasons....

"Kiss the tip."

Hutch's fingers stopped. He'd covered the crown except for the very tip, which was leaking fluid.

He bent and kissed it, tasting that harsh flavor. Felt the incredible heat on his tongue.

Heavy breath, then, "Put more on the head."

He reached for the tube.

"Because that's the part that's going to pave the way up inside your ass."

Digging my own grave, Hutch decided as he squeezed more gel onto that glistening smoothness. That huge thing was going to hurt. Probably even more than when he'd hurt Starsky, despite all the careful preparations. Does he understand that it won't matter? Like when I did him, will he go ahead and fuck me even if I cry out? Will he understand how much I want it?

"Make sure the tip is covered."

Hutch squeezed a dollop of gel onto his fingertip and rubbed it across the very tip.

Softer voice now, though very tight. "I'm going to fuck you, Hutch. Stand up."

Hutch stood on shaky legs.

Starsky moved to the bed and took the pillows. He tossed them on top of each other in the center of the bed. Then stood to one side. "Lay facedown and drape your ass over those."

Hutch got on the bed on all fours, then collapsed on top of the mound. He squirmed until he thought his ass was in the highest possible position.

"Spread your legs real wide."

Oh, God.... He spread them, feeling them quiver. Rested his cheek against the mattress. A virgin awaiting sacrifice.

The bed rocked. A limb brushed against his leg. The dip of the mattress told him Starsky was in between his widely spread thighs.

Steel-hard, moist heat laid along the crack of his ass. Weight resting there. Hands massaged up his bare back, then into his hair, tenderly rubbing.

"I'm going to fuck you, Hutch." Trembling voice.

Yes.

"It's going to hurt, Hutch."

Yes.

"There's nothing you can do about either of those things."

I know.

"I'm going to marry us, Hutch. And there's nothing you can do about that, either."

His eyes watered. I love you.

A kiss in the center of his back. Now a cheek resting there. "Love you." Breathless. "So much."

Then fuck me good.

The heat left his crack. A hand pulled his ass cheek aside.

Oh, God. What if he didn't live long enough to see this night reach its conclusion?

Thick, steel-hard heat covered his asshole. Neither the smallness nor the tightness of the opening was going to stop it. He'd been too obedient and made it hard enough and slippery enough that it would do what Starsky wanted.

Not my responsibility.

Pressure... pushing...

His eyes watered.

A grunt from Starsky, then a lunge. A searing explosion of pain as Hutch's sphincter was ripped open. He gasped, but lay there, letting it happen. Huge mass replacing the space there....

A deep grunt from Starsky. Heavy breaths. Effort of lunging again.

Hutch cried out helplessly as it forced more of him open. A tear splashed onto his cheek.

Momentary relief as it seemed to draw back, but then it pushed in farther with an even deeper grunt from Starsky. Cramping up his rectum. Hutch choked out another soft cry.

Snaking back... stimulating his sphincter.... Then shoving in even deeper.

He cried out again.

No relief from the pressure. He could feel the effort Starsky made to push the rest of it in. His whole ass was on fire, spread so impossibly wide.

Starsky grunted heavily, then released a tight sound of bliss.

Eventually, there was silence, except their panting. The pain ebbed inside Hutch. It only hurt at the opening. And there was nothing he could do about it but lie there and try to get his breath. Which was difficult with Starsky's weight upon his back, hot exhalations tickling Hutch's shoulder blade.

After long moments, Starsky began to move. He stroked Hutch's hair. So tenderly. Brushed the side of his face with a feather touch.

The huge thickness pulled back, and Hutch was suddenly aware of every square millimeter. Only this time, it wasn't pain he noticed, but the way that weight pressed against his privates.

It pushed in again. Heavy weight massaging the back of his testicles as it passed over that area. Oh.

Pulled back. Jesus. Pushed in. Man. Pulled back....

He whimpered this time.

Pause, as though taking time to decipher what it meant.

Push forward again. Incredible. It would never be enough to make him come again, but it titillated his entire lower region in the most wonderful way.

Pulled back... and he realized he'd whimpered again.

No pause this time. Faster motion. Pumping more earnestly.

Jesus God.

No room to think. Pulling back almost as soon as it was finished pushing forward. No break from the waves of pleasure. Constant motion. So beautiful....

He cried out softly, for his exhausted vocal chords were incapable of anything further.

Starsky obviously had no such problem. He was yelling in time with each stroke, as he was reaching his own level of ecstasy.

Pounding harder... the noise and feel of sturdy flanks smacking against upraised buttocks... Ball sac slapping against his own.... Bed rocking with the harsh motion.

Asshole so sore.... But his tract dancing with stimulation... his balls tight....

Starsky cried out repeatedly now, smacking harder against Hutch, grabbing Hutch's shoulders to brace against.

And then an ear-splitting cry... shallower motion...

...And then suddenly no cry at all, but an incomprehensible masculine noise... the unmistakable signal for Hutch that Starsky was filling up his gut.

Ridiculous satisfaction in knowing he'd accepted emissions both up his ass and down his throat. That they would meet somewhere within his body.

Heavy weight on his back. Desperate gasping for air. Incomprehensible little noises of waning ecstasy.

Then a sudden grunt, as though Starsky realized life still existed and he was one of its inhabitants.

Raising up... getting off of Hutch....

The non-threatening thickness snaked backwards, then slipping out.

Ouch. His asshole was so sore.

Numbness. Emptiness. Exhaustion. Drifting peacefully....

Groans of continuing sensation. Bed rocking, then still. Heavy, staggering footsteps on a plush carpet. Sound of a light switch. Slight illumination from the bathroom area behind him.

Faucet running. Deep clearing of throat. Heavy, blissful sigh.

Satisfaction in knowing that Starsky had enjoyed fucking him.

Hutch drifted, eyes closing against the darkness of the distant window. He felt chilly, but it wasn't his concern.

Long silence now, except for the water. Then it was turned off. Soft sound of clothing. A snap. Maybe a zipper being pulled together.

The door opening... then clicking shut....

Hutch blinked. Did Starsky leave?

He held his breath, listening.

Silence.

He swallowed. A deep sense of foreboding descended over him.

Is he...upset? How could he be? Especially making all the blissful noises afterwards. Or is it more of the game? Testing him? Maybe coming back and laughing at him for still having his bare, mutilated ass raised in the air?

Should move....

No. Be obedient. Show Starsky how good he can be. Risk the humiliation if it turns out Starsky quit playing as soon as he came.

Hutch closed his eyes at the thought. Incredible. The sensations of Starsky's huge cock up his ass. Massaging him from the inside. If only they could find some way of bypassing the pain of getting that huge thing in there in the first place. Of course, between the two, he'd opt for the pain and pleasure, rather than having neither. After all, Starsky had tolerated that pain....

Starsky, where are you?

Maybe hungry. But there's room service.

What if he's never coming back?

No. Impossible. His Starsky would never speak those words about love and marriage, and then up and abandon him.

Hutch felt a twisting mixture of warmth and sadness. So much effort Starsky had gone through for him tonight. But how could he up and leave like that?

He shivered. It wasn't from the thoughts in his head. He was feeling a genuine chill from the sweat cooling on his body.

Should cover up....

But that was for Starsky to decide.

Where are you?

He swallowed and realized he was thinking too much and Starsky would disapprove. Instead, he focused on the darkness of the window and let himself drift. So tired... Dizzy almost. Weak.

A key in the lock.

He gasped. Please, not a maid. No, surely not at this hour.

The door opened behind him.

Please be Starsky.

Door closing. Soft, rapid feet on the carpet. A lamp coming on behind him.

Weight on the bed. A gentle hand on his shoulder.

Thank God....

Rubbing, petting....

Something opening. A tin box?

Other noises. A squeeze on his shoulder. Tender voice. "Easy does it, Hutch."

Easy does it? What's going on?

"Bear with me a moment." Sound of paper tearing. A hand on his ass. Gentle parting of his lower ass cheek. Something moist wiped against the extreme soreness there.

He flinched and sucked in a breath.

"Eaaaasy now." It wiped again.

He gasped and felt his eyes water. Accept it. He couldn't change whatever Starsky was doing. He let his body relax.

"That's a good boy." Not teasing, but soothing. Hands leaving him. More noises. "This is probably going to sting." A sympathetic squeeze along his side.

He didn't bother bracing himself. Wetness touched him and needle points of pain exploded along his asshole. Tears spilled from his eyes. He was aware of an antiseptic odor permeating the room.

He went down to the lobby and got a first aid kit. After seeing the blood in the bathroom.

"You're okay, Hutch." Another gentle squeeze.

It was good to hear the words, for he'd felt a momentary panic building, wondering what kind of condition he was in. Poor Starsk. But the pity was also momentary, for Starsky sounded sure of himself and not guilty.

"Maybe this'll help, too."

Hutch wondered what further pain there was going to be. He managed not to brace himself as his buttock was pulled aside once again. This time thick grease touched him. Vaseline? Again pain as fingers pressed against his tender region, but it was soothing as the grease was spread. And reassuring now that the area was now lubricated against further abrasion.

The box closed. The mattress shifted. Tender hands moved along his back, gently gripping. "Here, let's get you off of this."

Starsky tugged a pillow from beneath Hutch.

Move legs. It seemed a nearly impossible task, they were so stiff. But Starsky was helping, gently lifting and moving his limbs, then pulling back the covers on the bed. He placed pillows where they were meant to go.

It was very slow going, but Hutch was finally in bed, the covers drawn up to his shoulder. He was still facing the window. In fact, he hadn't looked at Starsky since.... since getting him ready for me. How much worse would it have been if they hadn't used so much lubricant?

The light went off and the room was dark. Sound of a zipper. A moment later the bed rocked. And then a warm nude body was up against his back, an arm circling around him protectively.

Okay to sleep now. Except... he sensed that Starsky needed reassurance. Needed to know that Hutch was okay about everything that had gone on this momentous day.

He was so tired. But he had to make the effort. Even without the order to do so. Hutch staggered up on an elbow and felt Starsky's grip loosen. He managed to pull his other elbow up, so it could also take his weight, and for a moment he was facing the pillow. And then he managed to twist to the opposite side, collapsing back to the mattress, now facing Starsky.

Fingers immediately fanned out along his face, spilling into his hair.

"Mm," Starsky said, as though that touch were exactly what he needed. There was shifting around, gentle rocking of the bed, and then Hutch was curled up with his head resting against Starsky's side, strong arms around him.

"Sleep, Hutch."

He obeyed.

* * *

Hutch was facing the window again when he first awoke. Judging from the amount of light it might have been a few hours after daybreak. He was completely comfortable and knew that he had no cares now that life consisted of just sleeping and fucking. Pleasing Starsky.

He drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When he awoke again it was because a warm body was against his back, an arm feeling up the front of his body to his chest. The arm left him a moment, and when it returned the fingers were wet with spit, and they fondled his nipple.

He couldn't deny it was a tantalizing sensation, and when Starsky's arm stretched to the lower nipple, Hutch became aware of a hot, huge thickness against his ass.

It did not matter if he wanted it or not. Starsky would take it from him, anyway. Obligingly, he brought his knee up toward his chest. It was going to hurt even more than last night, because he was so sore, but the memory of that weight massaging behind his balls created a hard-on of his own. And the only way to adapt to the size of that thing was to be fucked more.

Once he moved his leg, the hot cylinder found his opening. Starsky whimpered a little, squeezed the nipple between his fingers, and then turned away from Hutch, as though reaching back. Hutch felt Starsky manipulating the tube of ointment.

Starsky settled back behind him. Hutch closed his eyes, expecting to feel his asshole worked with. But, instead, a hand took his prick in a firm, masculine grip.

Mmmmmm. That felt tremendously good. Starsky had hardly even touched him there yesterday. That grip was sure and strong, tugging up his barrel, making him lengthen. There was slippery moisture on his sensitive skin, for Starsky's hand was full of gel. Spreading it.

???? What was Starsky's doing? Getting his cock all lubricated.

Did Starsky want to get fucked?

Hutch opened his eyes to watch Starsky actions. That hand stroked him, making his hard-on glisten. Fluid leaked at the tip.

Jesus, God.

He hadn't expected Starsky to be willing to do it again for a long, long time. He was ready for Starsky to fuck him, and Starsky's prick obviously wanted to; but Starsky wanted something else.

A quiver raced up Hutch's spine.

"That's my eager Hutch." Gentle words. One last stroke, and then Starsky knelt. "Roll over onto your back."

Hutch obeyed. Starsky was pushing the covers out of the way. Then he grinned at Hutch. He picked up the tube of gel and squeezed it out onto his fingers. Then, spreading his knees apart, he reached behind himself with his coated hand.

Goddddd, Hutch silently groaned. What if he fainted first? His eager flesh was flaring like crazy, showing that it was still alive and healthy, even after being overworked the previous day.

Arrogant rascal. Starsky was posturing for him. Closing his eyes and panting as he played with his own asshole.

I ought to slam him against the wall. Fuck him standing up. Or bend him over a chair. Fuck him clear through to Kingdom Come. How dare he look like that while he plays with himself.

Starsky's huge cock jutted out from his groin.

Hutch felt sympathy now. Surprised he doesn't want to get blown first. Not that that thing of his can fit very well in my mouth. He really wanted to work on that. Get better at it. Make himself take it. Shove it down my throat and make me accept it.

Starsky removed his hand from his body. His hair was messed up, his eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, his flesh rock hard. He approached Hutch.

Hutch's mouth fell open as that hard body straddled his chest, the tip of that huge organ bobbing near his throat. Just give the order and I'll milk it dry. I'm already salivating like Pavlov's dogs.

But, instead, his own prick was taken in a firm hand. Starsky was leaning forward, then rocking back as he pulled on Hutch, trying to guide the stiff erection to where it belonged.

JESUS GOD.

Since he wasn't allowed to do anything, Hutch laid there and watched in fascination. The head of his cock was now pressed against Starsky's anus. Starsky filled his lungs up with air. And then, as he released it, he lowered himself.

Jesus God Almighy. Moist tightness pushing down on the skin of his prick....

Starsky letting go now and making no effort to control the movement. Just letting gravity take over and sinking into a sitting position.

Sitting on Hutch.

Hutch couldn't believe Starsky had done that. Just taken it. Starsky's eyes were open wide, watering, and he was panting, but he had taken it.

God, I love you.

Hutch wanted to thrust more than anything, but Starsky's weight didn't allow it Starsky grinned. "Too bad I can't lean down and kiss you without losing my place. You look awfully damn kissable, Hutch. Gonna have to make up for it afterwards."

Oh, yes.... Kiss me forever afterwards.

"'Kay. This is what we're gonna do."

No more games, pleeeease.

"I'm gonna rotate around - "

Rotate??? Breathe... breathe...

"—until I'm facing the other way. And then, real careful, I'm gonna rock forward until I'm on my hands and knees. Hutch, it's real important that you stay with me when I do that. I'll be awfully disappointed if your cock slips out."

No, no. I'll be a very good boy. I'm gonna stay all the way up inside your ass, just like I am right now.

"You ought to see your face, Hutch. You're so transparent."

Ha, ha. I'm going to fuck you clear through to Kingdom Come, you insolent imp.

Starsky closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Then he moved his legs and grimaced and slowly rotated his body.

Jesus, God. Like a steady wash machine rotating around my prick. Hutch was now facing Starsky's back and saw the bruise from the bathtub faucet.

"Stay with me, Hutch." Panting, Starsky started to move forward.

Hutch thrust just as Starsky started to rise. God! So good. Hutch pushed with his legs the same time Starsky did, and landed heavily on his partner's back. But he was still partway inside, and Starsky was on his hands and knees.

Now what?

Starsky wriggled, spread his legs wide, stimulating Hutch's prick. "Fuck me, Hutch."

He didn't need to be told twice. Hutch pulled back a little, then slammed in. Oh, yes. This was nice. This was damn nice. Back... and forth. Back... and forth. Tight walls massaging him. Pulling back a long ways because he liked the feel of that tight sphincter, then slamming back in, driving his cock inside Starsky, smooth and deep.

Ah, man. Starsky was good. Starsky was being so good. Even though the bed rocked as Hutch slammed his ass, Starsky's strong legs were well braced so that he took the thrust every time, and didn't fall forward. Holding himself still so Hutch could get the deepest possible penetration.

Damn nice. Perfect. The fuck of my life.

Noises now. Little grunts from Starsky. Then high-pitched cries. Hutch knew what those meant.

Starsky balanced on one hand, still taking those powerful thrusts, and grabbed his own cock, then stroked himself fervently.

Ah, yes, partner. This is what I can do for you. It doesn't have to be like last time.

Heady, that Starsky was trying to come while getting his ass fucked.

No, not just trying. Hutch realized from the noises Starsky was making and how fast his hand was working that it was going to happen.

Jesus God. He wanted to time it just right. Fuck Starsky properly until the last possible moment.

He waited for the cry. And then pulled out.

With Starsky's legs being spread so wide, Hutch had a full view as the tight testicles contracted, asshole flexing convulsively. Talk about being transparent....

Another time he'd stay inside and feel all those muscular contractions around his cock. But this time he wanted to see. See Starsky shooting his cream along his hand, which had now slowed almost to a stop. Starsky, flushed from his climax, was sighing deeply, as though he might collapse.

Wait, partner. I'm not done yet.

Hutch mounted him again. Drove his cock up inside in one smooth stroke. He wasn't surprised when, weak from the orgasm, Starsky's upper body collapsed to the mattress. No matter. Hutch grabbed his shoulders and braced against them to drive himself in deeper. Two desperate strokes triggered his own release. He yelled as his body shuddered, wanting the whole world to know the beauty of it.

He waited until he was totally drained, until his cock had no sensation left. Then he haggardly pushed his weight from his arms to his knees and withdrew. He collapsed beside Starsky.

After a time, Hutch was aware of Starsky's recovering, shifting to sit up. Then, breathlessly, "I woulda been making use of your talents years ago if I'd known it was going to be like that."

Make use of? Yes, use me, use me.

"Come up here." Gentle now. Hutch moved up to Starsky's side where his arm was outstretched, waiting. He pressed his head against his lover's shoulder.

"It's only about noon. We've still got six hours that I can spend kissing you properly."

Oh, God, yes.

Starsky's lips touched his, creating that incredible feeling of melting together. Of floating away. This all somehow so much more of a sharing between them than any of the other stuff.

Starsky's tongue licked at his lips, parting them, then gently sucked on his tongue. One hand casually rubbing up and down Hutch's arm, the other against his chest. Loved and protected and cared for. He had been born for the sole purpose of pleasing Starsky. Now, at the age of thirty-five, he was finally realizing his potential. Whether or not he fulfilled his potential all depended upon how many hours a day Starsky would make use of him.

They parted, but were still close together. Hutch let his eyes drift open and saw Starsky looking at him lazily.

"We're gonna have a real problem, Hutch."

What? How dare Starsky speak of problems when all they had left to do in life was sleep and fuck.

His partner straightened in the bed, then settled back against the pillows. "The way I figure it, at least once every twelve hours, my cock is going to want to be either down your throat or up your ass. That's gonna take some big-time planning."

Your problem, Hutch thought defiantly. You're the one in charge. (Every twelve hours....)

"Let's see." Starsky was rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, and Hutch realized that the kissing was on hold for awhile. He settled back on his own pillows beside Starsky. "We might be able to find an alley. And I can drive into it and tell you to get out of the car and drop your pants, and bend over the hood of the Torino."

Jesus, God. His balls started churning. Does he ever shut up?

"And I shove my huge prick up into you and drive you onto the hood of the car. And the hood's all hot from being in the sun, and so you arch back against me to get away from the hot hood, and I slam you onto it again, because I don't realize that it's hot. And I think I'm getting the fuck of my life, because you keep pushing yourself back onto me."

Don't you wish. Arrogant ass. If I ever get a chance to put you over my knee....

"That's one way of getting my fuck during the day. Let's see.... Oh, remember that carpentry shop on Fifth and Lincoln? They have all those sawhorses. In the summer, they let everybody go at four o'clock. So, after the place is closed down, I drive us over there and we get inside. And I tell you to drop your pants and bend over one of the sawhorses."

Oh, dear God....

"You've been bad again, Hutch, and I have to straighten you out. So, I tie your feet to the sawhorse and your hands to your ankles. So, you're all bent over that sawhorse, awaiting your punishment. And I get down on my knees behind you and drive my tongue up into you."

Almighty God. He was getting hard again.

"I've got you tied so tight you can't even wiggle. You just have to take it."

Breathe... breathe....

"And, then, say, we're going to Huggy's to meet another snitch with information. Only, that's what you think we're doing, because I can't ever let you know anything that's going on, or you'll be bad and start thinking about it. So, anyway, we get there and Huggy tells us the meeting room is ready, go on in. So, we go back there and no one else is there and it's pitch black. I tell you to drop to your knees. And you're there on your knees, in the dark, being a good little Hutch. Your mouth hanging open, waiting to service me, waiting for me to give it to you. You listen to me unzip my fly and drop my pants. Your mouth is watering like crazy, drooling at the corners, while you wait for it. But what I really do is bend over and spread my ass cheeks. And then I tell you to put to your tongue to work. Your tongue has to search around in the dark for my asshole."

Hutch closed his eyes and groaned out loud. It occurred to him that, despite all the mingling of body parts the past day, Starsky had never demanded his tongue.

His cock was moving beneath the covers, thickening. Yes, yes, make me do it. Tell me to get on my knees and drive my tongue up in there. Make me lick it and tease it and suck on it. Make me make you crazy. Give yourself permission to be crazy.

That was the beauty of the ass lick Starsky had given him. No shame or embarrassment. No effort on his part. Just lay there and get stimulated. It was, perhaps, the purest form of pleasure that there was.

Make me do it, buddy. Make me do it. My life means nothing if I can't be pleasing you every moment of every day.

He looked over at Starsky, trying to show his eagerness. But the groan must have already given him away, because Starsky had leaned over to the nightstand to look at the bedside clock. Almost tantalizingly, he noted, "Still have five hours." He sat back and looked up at the ceiling, an arm folded behind his head.

Why does he have to think about it? I want to do it. I want to do it so bad my mouth is watering.

Risking disobedience, Hutch ran his soppy tongue along Starsky's ribcage. See? See how much I want to do it.

Starsky raised his head and looked at him in surprise. Hutch stared back defiantly.

And then Starsky went all soft. He shifted to get on top of Hutch....

Oh, yes. What's going to happen to me now? Have I been bad?

Starsky's fingers massaged along Hutch's hairline. Then that tender face came closer, and lips were upon his.

Oh, yes....

"Mmmm." It was so delicious, this gentle tasting of each other.

Starsky held Hutch's face and stroked his cheek. His eyes grew very intense, but his voice was soft. "I love you so very, very, very much."

Ohhh.... Hutch swallowed, wanted to say something very badly.

Starsky's voice was exceedingly gentle. "You can say anything you need to say."

Hutch opened his mouth to say something. But "I love you, too" was too trite. Didn't even begin to cover it. So he said nothing.

Starsky smiled tenderly and kissed his nose. Then his forehead. Then he got on an elbow and looked between their bodies.

Hutch's erection had softened with the tenderness. But now it throbbed, knowing Starsky was looking. He was sure his love was thinking about a blow job to relieve the pressure, but he hadn't washed up since fucking Starsky earlier.

Starsky groaned reluctantly and kissed Hutch again, running his fingers reverently along his mouth. Then he sat back. "We both need a shower."

* * *

More reverence as Starsky soaped and washed him. Carefully handled his balls. Then guided the showerhead to rinse him off good. "Get out and dry off."

Hutch did. While Starsky tended to his own cleansing, Hutch ran a towel over his body. He couldn't help but remember what had happened yesterday afternoon. When Starsky had dried him. Had told him to lean against the wall and spread `em. Delivered an incredible blow job. How would he do it this time?

Starsky got out, took a towel. "Go out and sit in a chair and spread your legs."

Ohhhhh.

Always something new. Hutch realized he was having a hard time taking in enough air as he went to one of the chairs. He turned it around, facing the bathroom, and sat in it. The seat was cool against his buttocks. He looked down at his prick, watched it harden as he waited, imaging wet suction....

Starsky emerged, still drying. He grinned. "Aren't you a sight for a hungry mouth." Hutch held his breath. Not going to last if he's going to behave like that.

The towel was tossed aside, revealing a partial erection. Starsky came toward the chair, his manhood bobbing in the air.

Goddd.

Starsky grinned down at him, then said tenderly. "Have to start up at the top." His finger settled beneath Hutch's chin, pointing it up. Then lips. Beautiful lips.

They released his mouth to kiss down... down.... Down his throat.... Down to his chest. Pausing to pay homage to each little nipple. Kissing down his center to his belly button. Swabbing there.

Hutch flinched. Tickles.

Down to the softness of his belly. The wiriness of his pubic hairs.

Ohhh, Goddd....

Starsky looked up. Eyes so bright. "Keep your arms at your sides, Hutch."

Why? He wanted to pet Starsky. Pet and love him. Especially now....

Starsky enclosed him, warm wet mouth on his waiting flesh. Best way to shut him up. Now there was an idea.

Hutch spread his legs wider, slumped back in the chair. Oh, yes. That mouth had most of him. Sucking on him. Hand holding him at the base of his prick. Beautiful, beautiful mouth. Dark head bent over him. Beautiful lover. So giving and generous.

All mine.

Pushing farther onto his shaft, taking more of it, feeling the back of Starsky's mouth....

Oh, God.....

He jolted when the feeling came. Whimpered. And that was all. No strength for anything else. Hardly any cum left to reward Starsky with. But such a sweet feeling....

He sighed airily.

Starsky released him. Kissed the top. Then stood up, bent forward....

Yes.

Their ritual. Inviting Hutch's tongue in to taste. Such a familiar flavor to him. So much more enjoyable when shared within Starsky's mouth.

"Mmm," Starsky said as he pulled back.

Yes. Now what was he going to want to do? Starsky had a thick erection.

"Get on your knees, Hutch. Facing the bed."

Oh, yes. What he was going to do to Starsky. He wanted to do it so good. Do such a good job. He slid off the chair and knelt before the mattress.

Starsky sat on the bed. He grabbed the pillows. "Let's try it like this." He piled the pillows near the edge of the bed, then lay back on top of them, so that his ass was thrust in the air. His spread feet were barely able to rest on the mattress edge. Then he relaxed back with a sigh of finality. "Do anything you want, Hutch."

Almost apologetic, as though he's not really sure I want to do it. Stupid ass. Of course, I want to do it. It'll please him so much. Doesn't he realize the point of my whole life is to please him?

Hutch moved closer to the edge of the mattress. Grabbed the dual hemispheres with his hands. Parted them. Bent forward. Dipped his tongue.

Starsky reacted, made a noise.

Yes. Please you. Stroked with his tongue at that wrinkled opening. It was swollen from where he'd fucked it this morning. Amazing, knowing that his big prick had pushed through that tight space.

Lick it now. Lick. Lick. Dart. Dart.

Starsky purred like a cat.

You don't know the half of it, buddy boy. He spread the cheeks wider, drooled around the edges of the bunched muscle. Licked with his pointed tongue, delighting in the way the orifice flexed from his attentions.

"Oh!" Hot little cry.

Yes, love. Hutch blew on it now. Drying it. Watched it wink at him. Then, so carefully, he slowly pulled back the outer skin with a finger, then licked at the inner edge with his rigid tongue.

A deep gasp rewarded him.

Darting at the inner edge now. Darting. Darting. Feeling the body in his hands shudder and quiver.

Yes. You like that, don't you?

Pushed his tongue in. Frustrated that it wouldn't go very far. Please, God, make my tongue long enough to taste myself inside there. Put his lips up against the opening and sucked on the tender, swollen skin.

Starsky cried out and thrashed.

Hold still, lover. He took a better grip on those rounded buttocks. Let me love you properly.

Starsky pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Yes, love, make yourself more accessible to me.

Sweeping tongue again. From the bottom up. Sweep. Sweep. Feel him shudder.

Wet his tongue. Dip his head back down there and run his sopping tongue clockwise all along the outer rim, feeling the wrinkles. Then counterclockwise.

A gasp choked off a noise between a scream and a sob.

Take it, lover. Take it.

Hutch sucked in the excess saliva, then held on tight, because Starsky was trying to buck. Blow on it. Dry it all out. His stiff tongue worked at the inner walls of Starsky's opening. He used his fingers and tried to open it wider. Stuck tongue up there. Moved it back and forth, left and right, then thrust it forwards and backwards.

More gasping, intermingled with noises of disbelief.

He's giving in, like a good boy.

He kissed it, making smacking noises. Licked it. Swept across it. Circled to the left, then around the other way. Blew on it. Then darted up inside. Swept around the inside. Felt Starsky shake and shudder in a way he hadn't before.

Now he's let go. That's my Starsky.

Hutch felt goosebumps all over Starsky's body.

Reward him for being so good. Lick. Even strokes. Let him relax. Let him think this is all that's left. Let that flexing muscle grip that tongue every now and then to reward it.

He's breathing nice and even. Now shorten the strokes. Push inside. Hear those sounds of disbelief. Withdraw to the swollen rim. Kiss all around it. Then lick quietly. Short strokes. Attend to each wrinkle, one by one. Listen to him sob.

Wide sweeping tongue again. Taste all of him. Then suck on the center of his hole and feel the goosebumps. Listen to the cries. Bring up fingers and try to open him wider. Make tongue long and stiff and force it up in there.

"Stop!" Desperate cry.

Hutch straightened, breathing hard.

Panting, Starsky reached with an arm above his head, felt around the bed. He picked up the K-Y. "Give me your right hand." Breathless.

Puzzled, Hutch held out his hand. Starsky's huge erection looked utterly painful.

Starsky managed to sit up enough to hold Hutch's hand at the wrist while also squeezing gel along his middle finger. Still gasping for breath, he rubbed the gel around the finger. Then he collapsed back on the bed. "Listen good."

STILL giving orders? Starsky, don't you ever shut up?

"My prick's on fire."

Wonder why.

"I want you to put that finger in me, and fuck me with it while you suck the head of my cock." Heavy breath. "Won't take much to finish me." He eyes almost rolled back into their sockets. "Then I'll be dead."

No, not dead, buddy. Rejuvenated. After numerous orgasms in twenty-four hours' time, Hutch felt better than he ever had in his life. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't have a hard-on. But he was no less eager to please.

Already, his mouth was filling with saliva.

He pulled one buttock aside, then pushed his finger into that wet opening with one long, smooth stroke.

Starsky made a sound of approval.

He likes that. He pushed farther, then pulled it almost all the way out.

"Mmm."

Twisted it back and forth.

A cry of delight.

Oh, yes, love.

"Suck my dick." Breathless.

Hutch leaned over that giant phallus. Fucking Starsky with his finger, he lowered his wet mouth on top of the swollen crown and took it between his lips, just past the ridge.

He sucked. Twisted his finger. Ass muscles gripped him. The hard cock swelled even more in his mouth. He bobbed his head on it.

Hutch pushed his finger in, toward the ceiling and felt that special little gland that made ass fucking so enjoyable.

Starsky sobbed in delight.

Yes, buddy. I'm fucking you and sucking you at the same time. Sending you to heaven.

Starsky's legs spread wider, allowing him to ride Hutch's finger more freely. Allowing his prick to slide back and forth in that wet cavern.

Then he exploded. Only, this was more an exhalation of exhausted bliss. His ass muscles still tightened around Hutch's finger in a way Hutch found very satisfying. And the tip of massive flesh delivered a small helping of fluid. Then Starsky simply closed his eyes.

Hutch withdrew his finger, wiped it off, and curled up beside Starsky, still tasting the flavor of him. Sleeping and fucking. That was the only life they knew.

* * *

Hutch didn't understand why they weren't staying. Then they could sleep until the middle of the night, fuck, and still leave early enough in the morning to be on time for their shift.

But Starsky said they were leaving and Hutch had no say. As he dressed in his jeans and a fresh shirt, he found himself wondering how they'd gotten from point A to points B, C, D, and beyond.

"What's on your mind?" Starsky asked gently, coming to stand in front of him. He now had the duffel bag packed.

Hutch wet his lips, hoping he wasn't going to disrupt the mood between them. "That first time... when I did it to you... why did you want me to stop?"

Starsky let go a deep breath. "Things were kinda crazy that night, Hutch."

"I know."

"But mainly it was because you pulled my hair. That hurt."

Oh.

"I didn't want you to do that again."

"I only did it," Hutch rushed to explain, "because I thought you needed something else to get to your anger." He shook his head, wanting to make sure Starsky understood. "It wasn't a turn-on for me, or anything like that."

Starsky shrugged. "Thought it was sorta outta character."

And, needing to make sure, "You didn't like the fucking, did you?"

"Hutch, I wasn't capable of enjoying anything that night. I mean... not until afterwards."

Yes. The kissing. Hutch nodded, curiosity satisfied.

Starsky picked up the duffel bag. "Let's go."

* * *

Dusk drifted into darkness as they began the journey back to reality. Starsky had said they were going to stop for food along the way. It was amazing to Hutch that his partner had gone a full twenty-four hours without even thinking about eating. Having me please him was more important than feeding his stomach.

That was a good Starsky.

As Hutch watched the dark ocean out the side window, he knew that the game playing had to come to an end. Back to the real world. Back to pretending that there was something else out there that was meaningful. Contribute to society. But maybe they could occasionally indulge their impulses, have a little special fun.

Starsky squirmed in his seat, then sighed. "Hutch, I think I need to tell you how it's going to be."

???

Starsky was using That Tone again. The one that said he was in charge.

Breathe... Breathe....

Hutch blinked, staring out the windshield now.

"See, when we get back, we're going to stop at your place first. The moment I turn off the motor, you need to get out of the car and trot up the stairs and unlock the door. Leave the door wide open, because I'm going to be bringing our things up from the car. Then go stand next to the bed, pull down your pants, bend over, and lean against the wall next to the bed with your legs spread wide."

Jesus God.

"Because I soon as I'm inside the apartment, I'm going to fuck you, Hutch. Fuck you with my giant cock. Fuck you standing up, next to your own bed. That'll christen your apartment so that it's ours. We'll christen mine later."

He turned to look at Hutch, jaw firm. "Understand?"

Hutch gulped, feeling a shiver race up his spine. God, yes. He understood.

Part 4