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Part 3B

SANCTUARY
by
Charlotte Frost

Part 4A

Starsky watched from the corner of the gas station. It was about seven o'clock at night, and a blue Ford Pinto had just pulled up at the full service pump. A man matching the description of Parker Green got out. "Fill it up and check the oil," he told the attendant.

When the attendant rubbed his nose, confirming the customer's identity, Starsky stepped out from the shadows. "Parker Green?"

The man looked up. He was about five and a half feet tall, wore thick glasses, and was dressed in the casual clothing allowed in his particular division of the LAPD. "Yes?" he asked, looking uneasily toward the direction of the call. He squinted as Starsky came closer. "Oh, Detective Starsky, isn't it?"

Starsky nodded. "That's right."

Green held out his hand. "Don't believe I've ever had the pleasure. But I know who you are, of course."

"Of course," Starsky said levelly, pointedly ignoring the hand.

Green slowly put his hand down. Warily, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

Starsky allowed a tight smile. "I'm glad you're being so cooperative, Mr. Green. It should make everything much easier. Why don't we take a little walk and I'll explain exactly what I need you to do for me."

The man licked his lips and glanced hopefully at the gas station attendant, who was looking under the hood.

Starsky shook his head. "He's been paid to be dumb, deaf, and blind." He let that sink in while Green's eyes widened.

Green spun on his heel and ran toward the other end of the building.

Hutch appeared from around the opposite corner. Green collided into him.

Enjoying the contrast in height of the two men, Starsky watched while Hutch grabbed Green by the collar and took him around to the side of the building. Starsky followed, sparing a nod to thank the attendant for his help.

Hutch had Green by the shirt, and was restraining him with an arm across his throat.

"What do you guys want?" the man asked in a high-pitched voice, fearful eyes on the menacing expression of the blond who held him.

Starsky kept his voice friendly and casual, while also moving close enough to smell the other man's sweat. "Just what you've already agreed to give: your cooperation. See, everything will be easier on me, my partner here, you, Captain Dobey, and the taxpayers who pay all our salaries, if we keep it nice and simple."

"What are you talking about?" Green's eyes were now on Starsky, as though grateful to be able to look anywhere else but at the silent hatred radiating from Hutch.

Starsky rocked on his toes. "Now, Mr. Green," he laughed softly, "it's only going to make matters worse for you if you insist on playing an I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about routine. See, it's taken a long time before anyone was able to find out who was behind sending Hutch and I on our little unauthorized vacations a few months ago. But now we know. And Hutch and me - well - I admit we've sort of fantasized about, discussed - you know," he shrugged casually, "what we would do to the person when we found out. But, the truth is, we've also found out something else at the same time. And that's what your whole motivation was behind your little flawed scenario."

Starsky sighed with exaggerated patience and leaned his arm against the brick of the building, letting his weight rest against it. His shirt almost touched Green's arm. "See, Mr. Green, Hutch and I understand about partners and partnerships." He nodded his head, encouraging the other to follow his line of reasoning. "And we can understand sorta flyin' off the deep end when your partner is killed. And we can understand wanting to get revenge for it." Starsky sighed again, forlornly this time, scratching his head. "But, see, we've read all the reports of how your partner got killed. And it's clear as day to us that the only person responsible for Lt. Gibson's death was.... you."

Green's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. "No. No. No, it wasn't like that. It was the way Dobey insisted we go in. He's the one who set up the approach for that bust when Gibson got killed."

Hutch came alive and jerked Green forward by the shirt, then slammed him back against the brick. His nose was an inch from the other man's face. "Your cowardice killed your partner," he insisted, anger seething from his voice, hot breath drifting over Green and then to Starsky. "You pathetic little weasel. Your partner needed you and you hesitated when those two-bit clowns raised their guns. Don't you understand, you worthless excuse for a scumbag, that it was only IA's compassion," Hutch spat, "for what you'd been through that kept them from hanging you out to dry?"

Green whimpered, "No, that's not - "

"And you made a big, big mistake," Hutch said, breathing harder, "when you decided to use me and my partner in your little revenge scheme." His fist tightened on Green's shirt, his face now just a bare quarter inch from Green's. "When I found my partner, he was chained to a wall in a little room full of shit. You'd better give me a damn good reason, right now, why I shouldn't tear you apart, piece by piece, to take my own revenge for that."

"I-I never meant for any of that to happen!" Green screeched. "I didn't know how the guard was treating him. No one was supposed to get hurt."

Starsky shook his head. "Doesn't wash. See, me and Hutch know all about how the whole point of kidnapping us and keeping us separate from each other was so your little merry men could convince each of us that the other was dead." He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Tsk, tsk. You tryin' to tell us that wasn't supposed to hurt?"

"I-I-It was only supposed to be for a short time. I was going to let you both go."

"Hmm," Starsky mused thoughtfully. "Well, I have to tell ya, Mr. Green, that the time I spent in that filthy little room, thinking my partner dead.... Well, I'm sure you can understand that it didn't seem like a very 'short' amount of time to me."

Green's voice was helpless now, defeated. "I didn't intend to hurt either of you. Honest I didn't. I just wanted to get back at Dobey for Gibson." He looked hopefully from one to the other. "You're both all right now... right?"

Starsky released a heavy sigh, straightening. He moved closer to the man, so that between him and Hutch, Green couldn't draw a single breath of fresh air. "Let me explain something to you, Mr. Green, because I don't think you're getting the seriousness of your situation. See, my car is parked two blocks from here. I'm gonna turn my back and take a little walk to my car. I'm gonna walk real slow, Mr. Green. And once I turn my back, what Detective Hutchinson chooses to do with you is none of my business."

The man's eyes widened fearfully, not looking at Hutch. "What do you want from me?"

"Like I told you before," Starsky said as though speaking to a child. "Your full cooperation. That means that we drive you down to the station, and in a little room with me and Hutch and Captain Dobey and a stenographer, you tell us the full story of your little scheme. You name all the names of those who have assisted you. And you face Captain Dobey and tell him what a lower-than-slime creep you are for getting your partner killed and what a coward you are for having blamed someone else all these years. And how you deserve to go to prison for all the trouble you've caused." Starsky paused. "That's what you're going to do when we take you to the station."

The man's jaw quivered and he was sweating.

"But in the meantime," Starsky paused dramatically, "it's real important to Hutch and me that you understand - deep down inside yourself - just exactly what your little plan put us through. And, you know," he leaned even closer, "it really sorta bothers Hutch and me that we have to stoop to being involved with a two-bit cowardly creep like you." He shook his head. "We don't like that. You're small potatoes, Green. We don't like spending our time on small potatoes when there's a lot more bigger fish out there that we could be spending our time capturing."

Green's eyes were only on Starsky, as Hutch hadn't relaxed his hold in the slightest. "What do you want me to do?"

"Like I said," Starsky's tone made it obvious it was a struggle to be patient, "we want a full confession."

Green stared at him, breathing heavily.

The lack of an immediate reply was irritating. Starsky looked up at his partner. "He's all yours."

Green's knees gave way. "NO! NO! All right, all right!" Hutch was holding him up by the shirt.

Starsky gave up the pretense of congeniality. "Stand up, asshole."

The man was shaking violently. "All right, all right."

Starsky's eyes pinned him. "All right what?"

"I'll confess."

"To what?"

"Th-that I did the whole thing. I set you guys up - the kidnapping, everything, to get back at Dobey. Hired the guys to do it."

Starsky brought his face close again. "All right. We've got that part settled. Now. Here's the other thing we need you to do. See, despite everything Hutch and I have found out about your little revenge scheme, there's still one question we need you to answer for us. We'd better get the right answer, Mr. Green. The truth. Because nobody's gonna give a rat's ass if you turn up in a ditch somewhere tomorrow. Understand?"

Green was shaking so badly that he appeared to be on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Starsky lowered his voice. "And we don't even care if you include it in your confession. We just want this for us. Now, Mr. Green, explain to us why it is that when your whole purpose was to get back at Dobey, you thought it was necessary for Hutch and me to think each other was dead. That didn't have anything to do with Dobey. That was something you intentionally wanted to do to Hutch and me. And we have a right to know why."

Hutch shifted to plant his arm against Green's collarbone. His other hand came up and grabbed the shorter man's chin, gripping it tight in a warning.

Slurring through his pinched mouth, Green whimpered, "I was jealous."

"Jealous?" Starsky asked with feigned interest.

"You guys were tight," Green forced out. "Gibson was a good cop - the best. I wanted to be tight with him. And when he died," his voice choked, "it hurt so much. Wasn't fair that you two should take so many chances, make so many big arrests, make the papers all the time, and still be alive."

"And you think," Starsky pressed, "that Ron Gibson would approve of you trying to make Hutch and me pay for your shortcomings as a partner?"

Green shook his head. He was sinking again, sinking to his knees, muttering, "No. No, he wouldn't." He began sobbing, "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Hutch released his hold and stepped back. He looked at Starsky with tired eyes.

Starsky sighed and nudged his partner on the arm. It was a victory of sorts. "I'll get the car."

Starsky walked away, leaving Green sobbing in a heap on the ground, Hutch standing guard. It was going to be a long night, since they would need to be in the room for Green's confession. And then they would have to deal with Dobey's feelings about being part of the cause of what had happened to them.

Of course, since they had planned to grab Green tonight, Starsky had thought ahead and made provisions during the day. He and Hutch had taken an extra long lunch hour in the middle of the day. On their way to his apartment, Starsky had told Hutch what was going to happen once they got there. And he'd kept talking about it - what Starsky was going to do to Hutch, how it was going to feel to Hutch - until they were both ready to explode the moment they were inside the door. But Starsky made Hutch undress and sit on the edge of the bed. And then he'd knelt before him and taken that beautiful thickness into his mouth. Loved it and sucked on it until it sent its relief down his throat. And then he'd told Hutch to turn over. He'd greased both of them up, spent time opening Hutch with his fingers, and then taken his own satisfaction.

Tonight, when they finally got home, there would be only sleep.

* * *

It was past eleven o'clock when Dobey sat down heavily in the nearly-empty squadroom. "Can't believe it," he finally muttered.

Starsky sat on the table facing their superior, while Hutch sat in a chair between his partner and his captain.

Dobey sighed and folded his hands. "Don't even remember questioning the procedure when Ron Gibson was killed."

Gently, Hutch said, "That's because there was nothing to question. Parker Green was the one who got Gibson killed."

"We've been over all the reports on the incident," Starsky put in. "There's no question that it was Green's hesitation to fire at those punks that caused Gibson to get shot." He shrugged. "It's possible Gibson may have been shot, anyway. And IA looked into it, of course, but there was a lot of sympathy for Green and, you know, he never really was cut out for work on the streets. That's why he's fit in so well down in the charity division."

Dobey sighed again. "Yeah, I remember all of that. IA asking me if Green was cut out to be a cop. I didn't think he was."

All were silent for a long moment.

Then Starsky reached to clasp his partner's hand. "Captain." He waited until their superior raised his eyes. "Hutch and me are okay. Really. We've put this whole thing behind us."

"That's right, Captain," Hutch said. "Green is the only one to blame for this whole thing. Now he's finally able to admit that to himself."

Dobey nodded slightly, and Starsky knew that was as much emotion as they were going to get. Then the black man said, "Good job, you two."

Hutch said, "Huggy deserves a lot of the credit," as Starsky released his hand. Then he grinned as he met his superior's eye. "But most of it goes to you."

"That's right, Cap'n," Starsky piped in. "Now, hopefully, life can get back to normal again."

Dobey merely grunted.

* * *

Starsky was on top of Hutch in the early evening, kissing him leisurely while both were lying on the bed, still clothed. Enjoying the special closeness that only this act provided. It had been five days since Green's confession.

In total, it had been eight days since they'd left the hotel in Long Beach. Eight days of Starsky dictating when Hutch could and could not speak, who was going to do what to whom, and when. How the pleasure was going to take place. In the squadroom and around other people, they behaved the same as always. They slipped in and out of their private and professional lives easily. Except... both had taken to wearing jackets or shirts that covered their groins. Because the constant anticipation of what lay ahead kept both of them aroused a good part of the time.

Despite his bravado in Long Beach, Starsky hadn't quite been able to see that they coupled every twelve hours. But he'd come as close as he could, including stealing moments for them during work hours. That was always the most arousing. Driving Hutch around, trying to figure out where he could stop and demand special favors - or give them. Knowing that Hutch was aroused just from wondering when they would next stop, and what was going to happen then. And as their shift drew to a close, the blond getting more and more restless, wondering what activities were going to dominate the evening before they succumbed to exhausted slumber.

The interlude Starsky was most proud of, however, wasn't the usual fucking or sucking. He'd stopped by an abandoned shack one afternoon. Of course, Hutch had a hard-on a good part of the time, because he never knew when Starsky was going to make use of him. Starsky told him so little of his plans. Once inside that shack, with the sun shining through the cracks in the wood, Starsky told Hutch to unbutton his shirt. And Hutch had. Starsky had parted the flaps and spent the next fifteen minutes working on Hutch's nipples. He had been fascinated by them from the start, and he knew Hutch liked attention there. They just weren't as blatantly sensitive as other parts. But he suspected they had a lot more potential as an erotic area, if he could just figure out how they liked best to be stimulated. So, he'd spent all his time there that afternoon, slowly tasting, pinching with teeth or fingers, testing sensations. And, while doing so, he'd been able to pet up and down Hutch's back. Tenderly loving him. Of course, Hutch had gotten all hot and bothered. And Starsky had ordered him back to the car, without providing relief, for they had some witnesses to question and fifteen minutes was all the time they could spare.

But he'd made up for it, of course. As soon as they were home, he'd undressed and greased him and Hutch both and demanded, "Fuck me." It was his favorite command of all. For Hutch seemed to enjoy it so much and Starsky was nuts about that thick cock. He always came when Hutch fucked him, for it so intensely stimulated him. Hutch fit perfectly inside his ass, after all; at least, once he was up inside him. It still hurt a little when Hutch first entered him each time.

He knew he hurt Hutch even more when he did the fucking. But it was getting better. At first, he'd watched closely for signs that Hutch might not want it. That Hutch was being merely obedient. But he'd found none. And once Starsky gave time for the pain to ease and started pumping, Hutch made those blissful little noises that proved how good it was feeling. But he never came. Of course, he never stroked himself; probably because Starsky hadn't told him to. Maybe he needed to tell Hutch to play with himself next time. Or maybe he needed to take that prick in his own hand while he was fucking him. Granted, he hadn't in the past because he'd been so selfishly involved in his own pleasure. That was the fun of being in charge.

Being obedient had been good for Hutch also. Starsky's original intent had only been to get them past the first time without a lot of emotional shackles. Show Hutch how much he wanted it by demanding all that had happened, so Hutch wouldn't feel burdened to do right, in his view, by Starsky. Remind Hutch over and over again how big his flesh was, so that when Starsky parted him with it, Hutch would be psychologically ready to feel the vindicating pain he needed, despite all of the careful preparation ahead of time. And it hadn't all been mental. Hutch had been bleeding afterwards, but not seriously. Still, Starsky had felt an overwhelming desire to pamper Hutch and take care of him - so much so that it hadn't been until he was in the elevator that he realized he'd left the room without even saying anything. When he'd returned with the first aid kit, he'd been surprised that Hutch hadn't moved from where he'd been positioned on the bed for fucking. And he obviously wasn't going to move until Starsky told him to.

Yes, Hutch responded well to obedience when it was demanded of him. That discovery had gotten Starsky to thinking. And, as a result of his thoughts, he'd carried on their own little modified version of a master/slave routine for a lot longer than he'd ever intended. At times, he wondered if he was carrying it too far, but then he would remind himself that all Hutch had to do was say "No", or refuse to obey Starsky's verbal commands. Or simply say, "I don't want to play this game anymore." The fact that the blond never did was very telling.

But being in charge was also becoming a burden for Starsky, since he had to constantly dream up new, fun, erotic things for them to do. He was looking forward to returning to how it used to be, when Hutch acted bossy most of the time -- as though he were in charge of their partnership, even when he really wasn't. Starsky had always played along, because something about Hutch seemed to need the security of thinking he was the boss. And the blond seemed to have a strong need to say "No" whenever Starsky asked him for anything. After all, Hutch was a master at saying "No". Let's buy a house as an investment and fix it up. No. I have to piss, so stop by a gas station. No. Get me two cheeseburgers and fries. No.

Of course, even though he always said "No", Hutch always ended up doing what Starsky wanted. But with Starsky in charge, and Hutch not being allowed to talk a good part of the time, that "No" stuff had been effectively ended. And now Hutch seemed to outright relish having his need for saying "No" removed. Starsky didn't give him a choice in the matter.

A complex person, his Hutch.

Starsky kissed Hutch again, pressing their lips together, enjoying the "mmm" noise coming from them both. He wondered how tonight's loving might be different if the game was over. He knew, of course, that there was going to be some point in the future when they would both look back and shake their heads and laugh at how obsessed they'd been with fucking. But now, while the obsession with carnal pleasure was so intense and so mutual, he intended to enjoy every blessed second of it.

Starsky pulled back, but kept his face close to the soft, sleepy one beneath him. "Hey."

Hutch blinked, waiting for the next order.

Starsky ran his finger along those generous, so soft lips. "I think you've had enough of a break, you big beautiful blondie. As of this moment, I'm not in charge anymore."

Hutch blinked again.

Starsky kissed him. Let's fuck. Mutually. Where we're both allowed to speak whatever's on our minds. God, I'm hard just thinking about it....

Of course, being hard had been a fact of life the past eight days, no matter what the circumstances. Starsky had just plain stopped worrying about whether anybody noticed. He was having too much fun. And he knew Hutch hadn't worried because none of it was his responsibility.

The only worry that crossed his mind on occasion was that both their peckers might shrivel up and die from being so over-worked and tormented.

He ground against Hutch. See what I have for you?

"Move aside." Hutch's hands were on his shoulders, pushing.

"What?"

"Don't speak." Firm. "You aren't allowed to talk unless I say so."

Oh, Jesus. Don't tell me he's going to start in like this. I didn't mean for him to think that now he's supposed to act the way I've been acting. Starsky grinned inwardly. Okay, wait a minute. Indulge him. This could be fun. He moved aside.

Hutch got up. "Get undressed from the waist down."

Starsky started to obey, snickering inside. Wants me to keep my shirt on. Wonder why.

Hutch was watching him with a firm jaw.

His dick hardened as he removed his pants and underwear. He pulled off his socks and looked up.

Hutch's voice was unusually thick. "Turn around and get on your knees and stick your ass up into the air, with your legs together."

Legs together? That's a new one. Starsky swung around, butt to Hutch, and lowered his upper body to the bed, resting his cheek against the mattress. His legs felt funny, with his thighs pressed together. He giggled inwardly. Maybe he's sick of looking at my asshole, he's seen so much of it. Maybe he'd rather admire my butt instead. I've got a nice-looking butt, don't I, Hutch? He wriggled it suggestively. "DON'T MOVE!"

Shit. He sounds mad. What's wrong with you, Hutch? What are you going to do to me with my butt in the air and my legs together?

Quiet now. "Pull your shirttail down over your ass."

Huh? You're weird, Hutch. Starsky reached up and pulled at his shirttail. It draped halfway down his butt. Is it the curtain effect that you're after? He was starting to feel uneasy, not knowing what Hutch was going to do.

Behind him, Hutch opened a drawer. Then slammed it shut. Starsky heard another drawer opening.

What's he looking for? He knows where the K-Y is.

"Here it is." Soft, satisfied laugh.

Here what is? What's going on? There was a weird noise. Rubber banging against wood, rhythmically. Hutch appeared in front of him, holding a paddle with a ball attached with a rubber band. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

Starsky smiled nostalgically. Hey, I used to have one of those. I once hit that ball 232 times without a miss.

Abruptly, it stopped. Hutch took the ball and string and ripped them from the paddle. Sheesh. Take it easy, Hutch. Hutch held the paddle in front of him. His voice was very firm. "Do you know what this is? You're allowed two words."

What kinda stupid question is that? "A paddle."

A satisfied nod. "Good. What are paddles used for? One word."

Hitting the rubber ball, stupid. No, wait, only one word. Oh, I got it. "Paddling."

A glint in those crystal blue eyes. A very satisfied glint. Soft, seductive voice. "Very, very good."

Huh? Oh.... wait. WAIT. He can't mean....

A grin overtook Hutch's face, softening it like a Chesire cat's. "I see that you understand now."

Huh???? Hutch, no. No way. You can't mean what I think you mean. Uh-uh, no way. No way in hell, Hutch.

More casual now. "Buddy, the list of offenses against you is staggering."

Staggering? What the hell? What offenses? Come on, Hutch. You enjoyed all that stuff as much as I did. What did I ask you to do that you didn't enjoy? Well... maybe having you stare at my crotch in public was a bit much. And telling that clerk you were paying a religious penance -- thought that was pretty clever of me, actually - and that ice in your lap was only because I was genuinely concerned about how over-heated you were.

Hutch rubbed his hand slowly against the surface of the paddle. "This wood feels hard. Strong."

Starsky drew a deep breath. You aren't really gonna paddle me with that thing. Come on, Hutch, cut it out. I never would have played these stupid games if I woulda thought you were gonna retaliate. Starsky's brow furrowed. There was no way Hutch had dreamed this up just now. How long has he wanted to do this?

He didn't want to know the answer. Because that meant Hutch thought he'd been bad. No way had he been bad. He'd been having way too much fun to be bad. Hutch had had fun, too.

Hutch was still rubbing the paddle. Reverently. "The reason this is going to take a long time," he explained slowly, "is because I haven't figured out yet how many strokes will be an appropriate punishment."

He was defiant now. You just wait, Hutch. Wait until I'm back in charge again. Boy, are you ever going to get it for even thinking that you're going to use that paddle on me.

Hutch grunted with amusement. His fingertips were still worshipping the wood. His voice was soft, even though he was pretending to be angry. "I know you think you don't deserve this. And you're figuring out how you're going to get back at me for it. But, Starsky, you don't have a clue about the Hutchinson stamina. It's going to be a long, long time before you're in charge again."

Oh, shit, what had he done? He should have never turned power back over to Hutch. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Because he'd spent too much time fucking, that's why. He hadn't paid attention and hadn't realized Hutch had blown a gasket.

Hutch stepped a few feet away, looking very thoughtful, the paddle rubbing against his chin. "While I'm thinking about how many whacks you deserve - "

WHACKS? Dammit, that sounds like it's gonna hurt.

"—I'll need something to do with my hands. I don't like my hands to be idle."

Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

"So, I think I'll put some lubricant on my middle finger and insert it into your asshole. And move it in and out and rotate it around--"

Starsky grinned inwardly. Ah, Hutch, you sound so weird, using crude words like that. You're not used to speaking this stuff out loud. He restrained an affectionate giggle.

"—and every time you move, I'm going to add two whacks to your total."

Starsky felt a sense of doom. His ass was going to get paddled good. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And, shit, it was going to hurt.

Hutch nodded with satisfaction. "I see you realize the error of your ways. You know you deserve this."

I do NOT. He glared at Hutch. Accepting the fact that this is gonna happen has NOTHING to do with admitting guilt.

A chuckle now. "You ought to see yourself in a mirror. You look all angry and indignant, and your cock's so hard it's practically ready to explode."

Godammit. Get down, Brutus. Down, boy. He thinks I'm enjoying this because you're so hard. Shit. How can he think that I'm gonna enjoy real, honest-to-God pain?

Starsky inhaled deeply, realizing he'd forgotten to breathe a long time ago. He's enjoying this way too much. Goddamn him. He's going to enjoy the fact that it's gonna hurt. Since when are you a sadist, Hutch? I don't think I like that about you.

But that possibility brought forth a hopeful thought. He'll paddle me and my ass will get all red, and he'll get all turned on and fuck me clear through to the other side of the earth. Exhalation of relief. And that'll be the end of it. Maybe I'll even still have some skin left.

"I know what you're thinking."

Yeah, so what?

Hutch was toying with the wood of the paddle again, fingers tapping against it. Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum. "You're thinking that I'll get so turned on while straightening you out that I'll fuck you and exhaust myself." Voice firming. "You apparently weren't listening when I told you about the Hutchinson stamina."

Oh, fuck.

"After I drain my balls by fucking your red, blistered ass -"

BLISTERED???

"— clear through to the center of the earth, I'm going to go right back to disciplining you for all your insolence. It's not going to end until you've had the full number of whacks I've decided is appropriate."

Jesus. He was doomed. How could Hutch hurt him like that?

Hutch was looking down at him, thinking. Then he said, "I don't think your discipline is going to mean as much if your attention isn't on it one hundred percent." He nodded toward the area between Starsky's legs.

Oh, Jesus God, he's gonna make me come. You're beautiful, Hutch.

"Keep your legs together." Hutch disappeared behind him.

Legs together? How the hell am I supposed to enjoy it with my legs together?

Hutch reached around him, fondled his balls....

Oh, yes.... For some reason, he'd never had Hutch play with his balls much. Big mistake. It took a tremendous effort to not move his legs apart.

Another hand took hold of the thickness between his legs.

Oh, boy...

Stroking.

Jesus.

Special pressure on the crown.

Oh, man... oh, man

Fingers releasing his balls to stroke the smooth area between his sac and his asshole. Pressing....

Squeezing the area behind the head.

My dick's in love with your hand, Blondie. Trying so hard not to part his legs....

Ohhhh, Jesus, God....

Tingle running through his lower body, rushing out of his prick. Hutch milking it so perfect, the cum getting all over his hand.

Jesus, God, that feels good. Big, airy sigh. Oh, dear God, that was beautiful. Ah, man. He swallowed and opened his eyes, so relieved that he was nicely drained.

He'd been a good boy. Didn't spread his legs, even when it seemed so natural to do so. And his ass had remained in the correct position for his paddling, his shirttail still draped across it.

"My hand needs cleaning."

It was in front of Starsky's eyes, Hutch holding it up from behind him. Yes. There wasn't a lot of fluid, because they fucked so much that their balls stayed drained. But enough to make it worthwhile.

Starsky got to work. See how good I am? Lick, lick. I can be so good if you'd just explain to me what you want. Paddling isn't necessary to keep me in line.

"Pay special attention to the middle finger. That's the finger I'll put inside your ass while I decide how many whacks with the paddle are necessary."

Oh, yes, the middle finger needed special attention. Starsky licked it with long strokes of his tongue, eagerly worshipping it. That finger had been so good to him whenever he'd told Hutch to put it up inside him. Amazing, considering how satisfying Hutch's thick cock was, that that one little narrow finger was so talented. Hutch could move it in incredible ways up inside him.

There. Your hand's all clean, Hutch. See what I good boy I am? I don't need that wooden paddle cracked across my ass. Honest. I'll do anything you want, if you just tell me.

The hand went away. "Close your eyes."

Oh, no. Starsky closed his eyes, heart beating frantically in his chest, wondering what Hutch was going to do. Please put that finger up my ass. You said you would.

Smooth wood rubbed against Starsky's lower right buttock.

Oh, Jesus. That wood is really hard.

"Of course," Hutch pointed out, "the number of whacks is probably going to be somewhere in the hundreds."

HUNDREDS??? Oh, God. Oh, God, no. Hutch couldn't be serious. Couldn't possibly be serious. What person on earth deserved that many whacks? Not even Charles Manson deserved that many....

"It's just a matter of exactly how many I decide. And if you move an inch while I'm deciding, I'll add more."

Starsky could scarcely get his breath. He was doomed all right. No way was his ass going to survive getting hit that many times with a hard wooden paddle. And it was going to hurt like the dickens....

Hutch, you're sick. You're totally sick. I can't believe I've missed how sick you are.

The wood moved in a big circle over his butt cheek, creeping up beneath his shirt.

Starsky could scarcely breathe.

"I see that you finally realize this is no laughing matter."

Shit, you're damn right it's no laughing matter. You're going to damage my ass, Hutch. That isn't funny. And I'm gonna be screaming from pain instead of pleasure. That's not funny, either. What's wrong with you? Starsky was panting. Was it possible that there was some magical way that hard wooden paddle wouldn't hurt? Hutch wasn't going to really hurt him... was he?

The hard paddle moved toward his ass crack... turned... the wood slowly slid down the seam, past his defenseless asshole and then to his even more defenseless balls.

He shivered. Man, that wood is stiff. Gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.

The paddle turned again so that it was flat. The lip moved up underneath his scrotum, then picked up his balls.

Oh, Jesus God. His legs were quivering. Goddammit, Hutch, you'd better not do anything to my balls. That would really hurt. See: my prick's shrunk with fear. I'm not enjoying this one damn bit.

A slyness in the blond's voice. "I'd say it's who-do-we-trust-time, eh, partner?"

Heavy breath. Keep breathing. There had to be a way out of this. Yeah, Hutch, I trust you, Starsky thought defiantly, but one accidental move of that paddle, and my balls could be sliced off. Just remember that if I lose my balls, it'll hurt you as much as me.

Abruptly, his nuts were released.

Oh thank you, dear God in heaven. He panted heavily, dizzy with relief. God, I swear, I'll go to services every Sabbath if you find a way to get me out of this. I don't want that hard wooden paddle cracked over my ass hundreds of times. He felt a long bead of sweat drop down the side of his forehead.

Something on his ass again... Hutch's hand. Thank you, God. Moving slowly along his skin. Up underneath his shirt. Such a light, deliberate touch.

Oh, no. He's getting me ready. Getting my ass ultra sensitized so it hurts all the more when he hits me with that paddle. Hutch, I can't believe you're going through with this. But you're really going to hit me, aren't you? Goddammit, I didn't know I'd married a sadist. Somewhere along the line, I should have asked you first if you were a sadist.

His brow furrowed, his eyes still closed. Maybe that's one of the "offenses"? I married him without asking if he was the least bit interested? But that shouldn't upset him. Dammit, Hutch, I did you a big favor by not giving you a chance to say No. Because it woulda taken us months to get around to it, because you would have found all sorts of stupid excuses not to be happy.

Unfortunately, he thought with doom, I didn't consider myself. I didn't consider how raw my ass was going to be by marrying someone I didn't know got turned on by this sort of thing.

The hand was still moving, so slowly, over his butt. For God's sakes, Hutch, you're enjoying this way too much. I don't like you enjoying this. And don't you dare hit me with that hard wooden paddle. I can't promise I'll still be obedient if you hit me even once with that thing. The game ends the minute you hit me with it. He was breathing harshly, wondering how their joyous fucking had come to this.

The hand squeezed his ass cheek, just a little. Airily, as though distracted, Hutch muttered, "So tempting to just use my hand."

Starsky's face collapsed against the mattress. Oh, God, yes, Hutch, use your hand. Please, please, use your hand. Your bare hand against my bare ass. Yes, that would be just. You know that's the right way for us. Not cracking that wooden thing over my ass. If it's preordained that I deserve a spanking, then use your hand, Hutch. Your big large hand. I'll even admit I deserve it, if you just use your hand.

Oh, dear God in heaven, I'll try to go to temple sometime to thank you for showing him there's an alternative to that hard wooden paddle. Yes, yes, he needs to paddle me with his hand.

Wait a minute. Hutch hadn't been working out as much as in years past, but he still kept in reasonable shape. Lifted weights. Those loving, protective arms of his were strong. Very strong. Especially his right arm.

A hand on each cheek now, the paddle having obviously been laid aside. Rubbing slowly down... then up... beneath the shirttail.... . Circling around.... Big wide circles.

Hutch softly cleared his throat. "Of course," big slow circles, "if I do it with my hand, it'll be more appropriate to turn you over my knee."

Blood stormed down the center of Starsky's cock.

Over your knee? Giddiness surged through him. Oh, God, yes, Hutch. Yes! Why didn't I think of that? Yes, yes. Turn me over your knee. Please, please put me in your lap and turn me over your knee. Paddle my bare ass with your bare hand - but not too hard - and I'll writhe across your thighs. Feel your hard cock rubbing against my hard cock. My hard cock trapped between your legs, holding me still so I don't fall off your lap as I wriggle around from the (gentle) pain. Oh, Goooddddd....

Breathe... breathe....

He was breathing harshly, erection throbbing, as his face lay against the mattress, eyes closed. Surely, Hutch couldn't mistake the condition he was in.

"The only problem," Hutch said slowly, "with turning you over my knee and spanking you the appropriate number of times -"

Oh, Gooodddd.....My cock is in desperate need of attention.

"— is that I think you might enjoy it too much. And if you enjoy it, you'll miss the whole point of it. The point of it, Starsky, it to teach you a lesson. To teach you how to just be a tiny bit humble."

Heavy exhalation. Hutch's voice was thick, as though he were having trouble catching his breath. "I think the wooden paddle might be a better way."

NO! Please, God, no!

The warm hands had left his nicely tingling ass. That hard wood was on his left ass cheek, rubbing around.

Oh, dear God, no.

"Sometimes," Hutch said slowly, as though measuring his words, "I think I'm too soft-hearted where you're concerned."

"At the very least," the wood turned again to rake down his crack, "I think I should paddle you with this once. Just to show you what's going to happen when you're really bad. So you'll know and not ever have to wonder."

The lip of the paddle pushed a little at his asshole.

Soft sigh. The wood went away.

Thank God.

Casual now. "You're transparent, Starsky."

Yeah, so what? Shut up and turn me over your knee like I deserve.

"Your cock tells me everything."

"I'll keep this in mind when you're extremely bad. The wooden paddle is always an option, Starsky."

Heavy exhalation. Yeah, yeah, I get the point. I admit it: you can control me by threatening to use that paddle. I'm your slave, Hutch. Now, spank your slave. Show him the error of his ways.

"The only question now," Hutch was breathing very hard, "is how many strokes are appropriate."

Nice, big, bare hand moving up his left cheek....

Oh, God. Brutus was getting interested again.

"Open your eyes."

Starsky let out a breath and opened his eyes. Hutch stepped in front of him, still fully clothed. Of course, his jeans were tented. And Starsky was getting damn tired of being in a crouch with his legs together and his ass in the air.

Hutch grinned. "You're getting impatient."

Starsky glared at him. Hell, yes. I want my spanking, Goddammit.

Teasing softness now. "All right, my eager prince."

Hutch ran his fingers along his mustache. "Tell me how many, Starsky."

Huh?

"Tell me how many times I'm going to spank you. You know how bad you've been. You know all the things you've done wrong. You know how badly you need to be taught just a small degree of humility. So, with all the things you know, you can determine better than I can just exactly how many times my hand needs to smack your ass to straighten you out."

Starsky's mouth fell open. That's not fair. When you're in charge, you're supposed to be the one taking on all the responsibility. Don't make me responsible for my own punishment, Hutch. That's... that's.... well, dammit, that's downright humiliatin'. What thirty-five-year-old man in his right mind is going to admit to deserving a spanking?

Hutch looked at his watch. "You have thirty seconds to answer."

Shit. He could say zero, and spare his pride. But then I won't get spanked at all. And then all this will have been for nothing. But I can't see admitting....

All right, dammit. Five whacks.

No, wait. It's hardly even worth being laid across his lap for just five. It might be over before I've even come.

His prick flared. Ah, Hutch, I loved making you crazy like that.

"Time's up." Hutch put his arm down. "How many?"

"Twelve."

Hutch's face went soft all over. He was on the bed, on his knees before Starsky. "Ah, buddy, I knew that's what you were going to say." He lifted Starsky's face close to his and kissed him. Gentle. So gentle, as their kissing always was. Then, "I love you so very, very, very much."

I love you, too. What about my spanking?

"Come on, get off your knees. Lay down here." He helped Starsky roll onto his back.

Oh, boy....

But, wait. Hutch was on top of him. Kissing him all over. Rubbing lovingly up and down Starsky's cotton-clad arms, his chest. He whispered again, "Love you so, so much."

Oh, Jesus. Was the game over? Come on, Hutch, you hafta hold up your end the bargain. My 'end' is ready and waiting.

Hutch was cradling him, rubbing all over him, up underneath the shirt.

Ah, Hutch.

When Starsky was in charge he'd never ordered Hutch to hold him. He supposed he shouldn't be upset with Hutch now for trying to make up for it. In fact, he felt a bit guilty. Hutch was such a touchy-feely person. His big blond needed to express love.

More than he needs to fuck. Starsky relaxed against the bed. All right, you big softie, feel me up and be tender and gentle and make me feel like I'm gonna float away.

Starsky let himself be held. Felt warm all over when Hutch lifted him into a sitting position and hugged him back and forth.

Ah, Hutch....

After a long moment Hutch stopped and kissed Starsky's nose, his eyes warm and soft. "I love you."

Starsky grinned. He almost said "I love you" back, but remembered he wasn't supposed to talk without being ordered.

Hutch's voice was so gentle. "Get on your knees."

Huh....? On my knees?

"On the floor. Facing the bed."

Puzzled, Starsky dropped to his knees beside the bed.

Hutch's expression was still so soft. But he was breathing roughly as he sat on the edge of the bed, in front of Starsky, jean-clad legs spread.

He bent and tenderly kissed Starsky's forehead. "I want to be thanked in advance."

Thanked? He let his puzzlement show.

"Yes." Heavy breath. "Thank me for the lesson in humility I'm going to teach you." Hutch kissed Starsky on the lips. Stroked his hair. Then both hands fought with the zipper on his fly.

Starsky listened to the sound of his own breathing. So, it's still going to happen. And he's gettin' all turned on thinking about it. He grinned inwardly. Oh, boy. Yes, Hutch, let me thank you properly for that. Thank you properly for draping me over your lap and smacking my bare ass with your bare hand. I like this game.

The zipper was finally down and the smooth erection popped free from the slit. Hutch was otherwise fully clothed.

Oh, yes, that's the most beautiful thing on this earth. I'm gonna do it so good, Hutch.

Hutch held it in his hand. "Show me how much you appreciate my efforts to teach you a lesson."

Starsky leaned forward and gobbled it down. "Mmmmmmmmmm." God, I love this thing of yours, Hutch. Love how smooth it is. How the veins stick out. Ah, man, see how good I am to it? My tongue loves running all over it.

Hutch bent over Starsky, stroking his hair so tenderly.

Mmmmm...mmm. I love this, thing, Hutch. See? I can take it down my throat. He pushed his mouth forward on it, felt it block his air. Oops. He paused and coughed. I'll get better, Hutch. He bobbed his head back and forth. Man, I love sucking you. Gonna suck the whole thing dry. Incredible, how my mouth and my ass are both made for your cock. I need this thing twice a day, Hutch. Don't you dare not let me have it twice a day.

Hutch's hand moved down to his jaw, stroking so gently.

Ah, yes, Hutch, feel my throat working you. I love your cock. I want it in my mouth all the time. I'd walk around on my knees with my mouth permanently attached to it, if you'd like. "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

It swelled.

Try again. Be prepared for that feeling down my throat. He pushed himself forward on it, felt the zipper of the jeans at his nose. The head pushed down into his throat.

"Oh, God." Soft cry of delight. Legs spreading wider.

Starsky coughed and released it for a moment. Shoulda taken your pants off, dummy. He went back to work along the underside of the barrel. Then sucked it in. Suck, suck, suck. Mmmmmm...mmm. His mouth vibrated around it. Tastes so good.... I deserve a good spanking for doing this to you, Hutch.

Hands on his hair. "Easy, buddy."

Easy? Why? Nevertheless, he slowed the motion of his tongue and lips.

Deep breath. Then, softly, "Listen while you're thanking me. Because I'm going to tell you how it's going to be -- "

Huh?

"—and you'll want to thank me even more for my ongoing commitment to teaching you to be just a touch humble."

Ongoing? Starsky swallowed around the thick flesh without thinking and Hutch held his breath a moment. Oops, sorry. He curled his lips around his teeth. Am I going to like this, Hutch...? Or not?

Big gentle hands stroked along his face and neck. "Each day, as soon as we come home from work, your task is to take a shower, then go into the bedroom and put on a shirt -"

What is it with the shirt?

"—and get on the bed with your legs together and your ass in the air."

I don't like that position, Hutch. Reminds me of the wooden paddle.

"Make sure your shirttail is pulled down over your ass."

Jesus, you and the shirttail. This obsession of yours is making me nervous, Hutch. He much preferred sucking on this big delicious dick. Suck, suck, suck.

"You'd better be listening, Starsky." Heavy breath. Gentle voice but threatening words. "It'll make everything worse if you don't do exactly what I tell you. I still have that wooden paddle."

Okay, okay, okay. He eased up on the sucking.

"I'll come up to the room after you." That big thing flared within Starsky's mouth.

"I might not do it right away. I might read the paper first or watch the news on TV. Have a beer. I might make dinner."

While I'm on the bed with my ass in the air? You'd better not keep me waiting long, Hutch. I never did anything like that to you. Sheesh.

Rubbing Starsky's shoulder. Squeezing affectionately. "When I get around to coming into the room, I'll tell you've how many strokes I've decided you're getting. It all depends on how bad you've been that day. How irritated I am with you. It might be two. It might sixty."

SIXTY?

"It might even be zero." Soft chuckle. "But I doubt that." Stroking his hair lovingly. "You're incapable of being that good."

I don't think I can breathe.

"Once I've announced how many strokes there's going to be, I'll decide whether to smack your ass right there, or whether I'm going to trouble with turning you over my knee or not. It depends on how much I want to be bothered with you."

BOTHERED? You aren't being very nice, Hutch.

"Either way, when it's time to apply your punishment, I'll very slowly roll up the shirttail covering your ass."

Oh, I get it.

"Slowly unveil that nice, round smoothness you want me to mar." Hutch swelled in Starsky's mouth.

Don't know that I'd put it that way.

"If you didn't want me to mar it," Hutch reminded, "you'd never do anything bad."

I know, but -

"Run my hand along that round smoothness." Hutch stopped talking for two full seconds. He was breathing heavily. "Have to get your skin all ready for what's going to happen to it. Don't want it to go numb while my hand is tending to your hide."

I've got another hard-on.

"And then the count will begin."

Starsky shuddered.

"I might count silently. Or I might count out loud. Or I might make you count."

Jesus.

"When I'm done, you'll kneel before me and thank me for teaching you another lesson."

Depends upon how sore my ass is. You'd better not hit me hard, Hutch. Oops, he'd forgotten what he was doing. He started sucking again. Hutch was awfully big right now. Don't know if I like how turned on you get thinking about spanking me.

Hands stroked his hair. "So, every night, buddy, you'll get a spanking. Promise."

Jesus God. Maybe I'd be better off if I just let him crack that wooden paddle over my ass, and be done with it. He's turned this little game into a lifetime commitment. I'm not sure I like this.

His mouth was full of spit and pre-ejaculate, since he'd been working that prick so long. But my dick is really, really hard. Maybe it likes this game a little bit. Just as long as Hutch doesn't smack me sixty times in one night. That's a bit extreme, no matter how much I've irritated him. Besides, he's not consistent with how upset he gets. If he's grumpy in the morning, and I crack a joke, sometimes he'll laugh. That'll mean I've been good. But if I crack a joke and it just makes him grumpier, well, that'll be a smack across my ass. How am I supposed to work on being good, when the definition is going to change from one day to the next?

A hand gently rubbed at his throat.

Still, he thought tenderly, you deserve a special favor for toying with me so cleverly tonight. Scarin' the shit outta me. Getting me all nice and hard... twice. Let's get your big thing down my throat again. He pushed forward, refusing to choke as the flaring crown tickled the back of his throat.

Hutch shuddered and cradled Starsky's head, petting frantically.

Starsky eased up, proud that he'd done that without choking. I'm getting good, aren't I, Hutch? You're real close now, buddy boy. Nice and long and thick. Gonna do it again. Hope you come....

He pushed forward, heard Hutch's cry, and had to ease off as the tangy liquid spilled onto the back of his tongue. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Suck it allllllllllll out....

After a time, he let it slip from his mouth. Hutch was sitting with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, desperately catching his breath. He cracked one eye open and looked down at Starsky.

Starsky looked back into that eye and swallowed loudly. Down my throat, Hutch. Aren't I good to you?

Hutch closed his eyes, breathed deeply. "You're incredible."

Yeah, I know.

Lazily, Hutch reached down and tucked himself back in. Zipped up his fly. He slumped onto an elbow.

A couple of minutes passed, then Hutch's eyes opened again. He looked at Starsky. Snorted with amusement.

What?

"You're so transparent, Starsky."

He didn't like it when Hutch said that.

"You think you're getting out of it."

Well, not necessarily....

A short laugh. Then a wide, satisfied grin. "No way. After thanking me so nicely for what I'm going to do to you, you think I'm not going to do it at all? Uh-uh."

Starsky gulped. Loudly.

"I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this."

Part 4B