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Part 4A

SANCTUARY
by
Charlotte Frost

Part 4B

That sounded mean. It just proved that Hutch had been thinking about it for a long, long time. You're not very nice, Hutch.

"Awww," Hutch teased. Then, ridiculously cheerful, "Don't look like that. You sealed your fate when you told me how many strokes. You could have said none."

You holdin' it against me for not wanting to spoil your fun?? Sheesh.

"You may think you really don't want it, but," Hutch's voice dropped to a conspirational whisper, "I know, deep down inside, that you really, really do. Because you know how much you have it coming."

Starsky swallowed thickly.

Hutch sat up, yawned as though to awaken himself. Then he grinned. "This is going to be one of the most memorable nights of my life."

Hutch rested back on an elbow. "Been wanting to tar your ass - "

TAR??

"— ever since you blew our three thousand dollars on that godforsaken stack of rotten lumber you called a house."

HUH?

"And I didn't even have a hard-on. Just wanted to paddle your ass for blowing our money like that, I was so pissed off. Of course, if I would have done it back then, I would have used a giant wooden paddle - with holes in it."

Oh, shit. This was serious. Hutch had been wanting to blister his butt back before there was even anything arousing about it. Starsky felt a deep sense of foreboding. His gut was starting to tighten.

"And, of course, that was only the beginning. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to do it since. And I didn't even get my first hard-on when thinking about it until we were in that hotel. I don't have to explain the details of that, do I?"

Uh... no.

Now a large grin.

Ah, Hutch, you're so damn beautiful when you're so happy. Even if the end result is that my butt is going to be really, really sore. Four years' worth of soreness.

Hutch grunted. "Almost a shame that I feel differently about your butt now. I think this whole thing would be a lot more satisfying if I could just use that wooden paddle on you and forget about either of us getting turned on."

Soft chuckle. "You look so alarmed, lover boy. Hard to believe. I mean, you of all people should understand that this is going to happen, and there's no getting out of it. Just breathe in and breathe out, Starsky. Accept it. I'm going to paddle your ass twelve times with my hand, whether you like it or not."

Shit.

"And more than that if you misbehave before I'm finished."

Oh, no.

Hutch began to unbutton the cuff of his right sleeve.

What? He's gotta have a special wardrobe? Deep breath. I don't think I like this, Hutch. You're enjoying this way, way too much.

Hutch was rolling up his sleeve. "Oh and, by the way, don't forget that this is going to happen every single night until I decide I don't want to be in control anymore." Leaning forward to drive his point home, his voice casual. "Starsky, I think it's safe to say it's going to take quite a number of weeks before I get this out of my system. I've been wanting to do it for a long, long time."

Starsky gulped again. He couldn't look at Hutch anymore. It was too humiliating. He looked at the floor. Man, I've really done it. How did I get in this mess? Mother, how did I ever screw up so bad that, at the age of thirty-five, a grown man is going to turn me over his knee and enjoy the hell out of spanking me because (he says) I deserve it?

A hand patted his head. "Contriteness isn't going to help a single bit."

Starsky slumped. Oh, God, I'm done for.

Soft chuckle, then scolding. "Oh, cheer up, Starsky. There's nothing you can do about it now."

Really, Hutch, expecting me to be cheerful.... I admit I was excited as hell when you first mentioned turning me over your knee, but that was just in comparison to being mutilated by that hard wooden paddle. Let's just get it over with. Bravely determined to swallow his medicine, he looked up. Hutch's biceps looked strong and powerful where the sleeve was rolled back. Come on, Hutch, just tell me what to do. You've been talking about you doin' my ass for two solid hours. Let's just do it. But it'd better not hurt. I'll be mad if it hurts.

Hutch straightened, patted his right thigh. He grinned widely. "Come on. Come up onto my lap."

Shit. Stomach twisting, Starsky crept on his knees until he was next to Hutch's right leg. How are we gonna do this anyway? It was so awkward, he couldn't believe it. Far more awkward than all that wild fucking they'd done the past two weeks. Can't believe I actually thanked you for this, for chrissakes.

"Don't make me tell you twice. It'll be worse."

You'd love that, wouldn't you, Hutch. Starsky took a deep breath. He still had the shirt on, but he was exceedingly aware of how bare his ass was. He grimaced, then launched himself facedown across Hutch's lap, immediately aware of an intense feeling of vulnerability.

Hutch, you better goddamn realize how much I love you to do this for you.

Hutch smoothed down his shirttail over the upper half of his butt.

Starsky released a breath. Oh, thank God. Not gonna do it yet. He won't do it until he rolls up the shirttail to unveil my tender ass.

His cock twitched.

Big hand rubbing across his lower buttocks. "Your ass cheeks are tight, buddy."

Ha, ha.

"Re-lax." Gentle syllables. "It'll hurt more if you're uptight. Remember, there's nothing you can do about it. Tensing your ass or holding your breath or biting your lip isn't going to save you."

Starsky took a deep breath. Hutch was right. He relaxed across Hutch's jeans-clad legs.

"Good boy." Big hand rubbing now across his cotton-clad back. Soothing. "I'll do you a favor, since this is your first time."

Starsky felt a flare of hope and raised his head. Favor?

"I'll hold you down, so you don't have to worry about trying not to move."

Shit. You call that a favor? Just how hard are you going to hit me, Hutch? Hard enough to make me jump?

Hutch was moving. Pulling his right leg up, so it was no longer beneath Starsky. Then carefully laying his knee over Starsky's lower thigh.

SHIT! He was pinned down now. His ass exposed to Hutch. He wet his lips. Tried not to think about his cock growing between his groin and Hutch's other leg.

Can't breathe....

Feel of Hutch's upper body turning... reaching.... Hutch's hands were next to his head. The cap came off the tube of lubricant.

What's he doing?

Greasing up his middle finger....

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He'd forgotten that, a million years ago, Hutch had said he was going to finger-fuck him before his spanking. In fact, he'd licked that finger clean so Hutch could fuck him with it.

Magic finger. Oh, yes, this was good. Very, very good that Hutch had him pinned down. Because he would otherwise jump halfway into the air when that finger went to work.

Soft, warm chuckle. "You're so transparent, buddy."

Plastic tube tossed aside. Hutch straightening....

Starsky had a nice big hard-on now. Ah, yes, let's talk about fucking, Hutch. That's what this is all really about, isn't it? You just made that stuff up about wanting to paddle me for buying that house. You're pretty damn clever, Hutch. Scaring me and then exciting me and then humiliating me and then exciting me. You're one in a zillion.

Hutch parted his buttocks. Then blunt moistness wormed its way inside him....

Hutch went right to work. Fucking in and out. Pushing the finger in past the second knuckle.

Holy Moses. He wriggled his ass.

The finger rotated around, creating goosebumps all over Starsky's backside....

Jesus, God.... He gasped out loud. Whimpered at the perfection of it.

Strokes... long strokes... across his prostate....

"Ohh." Soft cry. He was in love with that finger.

Hutch bent the finger, making it bigger, then pulling it back toward the bunched muscles.

Jeesusholyfuckingshit.... His whole body quivered. He tried to grind his prick against Hutch's leg, but he was pinned too tightly.

Steady fucking. In... and out.... In...and out.... In... and out. Feeling the knuckles stimulate his sphincter with every stroke.....

It was pulled out. Gone.

Starsky sighed airily. He collapsed against Hutch's lap. Mmm.

He was aware of Hutch wiping his finger off with a towel. "Starsky?"

"You know I love your butt."

"I don't want to hurt your butt, Starsky. But you know I have to."

He blinked, the blissful sensation dissipating. Have to? Are you sure, Hutch? How come you just can't sorta, you know, pat it with your hand and count to twelve real fast?

That big, smooth hand rubbed across the smoothness of his lower buttocks. Then up beneath his shirt....

Starsky's cock was going to make it through that leg, one way or another.

Hutch sighed. "The tough part is figuring out the fine line between hurting your butt enough to teach you some humility, and not really hurting it."

His shirttail started to roll up....

Each second more of his butt was exposed. The shirt now only covered the top fourth of his ass.

Stop it, Hutch. Don't roll it up anymore. He lunged against Hutch's leg.

Hutch chuckled, still rolling. "Go ahead, buddy boy. Squirm. Put on a good show for me. I've got you pinned down good. I'm loving every second of this."

With a flop, the rolled shirttail rested against Starsky's lower back. Reverently, Hutch smoothed it down, as though outlining the top of Starsky's cheeks.

Large hand, fingers spread, running slowly across his ass. His entire ass.

"Gotta get your butt all nice and sensitive, so I don't have to hit it so hard to be effective."

Starsky was gasping for breath. Yeah, good idea. You don't need to hit me hard, Hutch. I'll cry if you hit me hard.

"In fact," the hand slowed, carefully moving from one cheek to the other, "I think I really might not be the best judge of when your ass is truly ready."

Huh? Deep breath... deep breath....

"I don't want to mess this up, especially since it's your first time. I want to fair about it."

Gulp.

"Starsky, my love, you need to let me know when your butt's all nice and ready for its spanking."

Starsky sagged across Hutch's lap, even as he felt the dampness on Hutch's jeans from his leaking prick. Jesus, Hutch, that's worse than me telling you how many strokes. If I tell you my ass is ready, then you'll smack your hand across it. I can't do that. That's like askin' a guy to dig his own grave.

The hand circled slowly back over to the other cheek. Damn, my ass is getting warm from all the friction. Will it hurt more or less while it's so warm?

"Starsky," so patient, "I've explained to you about the Hutchinson stamina. You know it's going to happen, one way or the other. I'm having the night of my life. If you want to drag this out until morning," soft chuckle, "that's fine with me. It's your butt. And, remember, this starts all over again tomorrow night."

Shit. He'd forgotten about that.

Starsky wriggled his thighs, rocking his prick against Hutch's leg. If I could just come, I wouldn't care what he did to my bare ass. I'd be passed out. Come on, Hutch, grab my cock and help me come.

"Starsky, when you're ready, just say, 'My ass is ready for its spanking.' And I'll do it." That big hand rubbed non-stop against his bare skin.

If only he knew how hard Hutch intended to hit him. He could handle it if he knew that Hutch wasn't going to smack his ass very hard. He'd just get it over with. 'Course... even if he intends to hit it really hard, I still need to get it over with, anyway.

His cock flared against Hutch's leg.

Oh, God. Trapped. No Exit. Have to take my medicine. He swallowed with difficulty, preparing to speak.

"Starsky," so gentle, "I'm doing this because I love you."

"And because I know you want me to do it. You know you've had it coming for a long, long time."

You just wait, Hutch. I'm going to get you for this.

Deep breath. Okay, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna say it. He sagged. Need to stay relaxed so it doesn't hurt so much. Just accept it. Deep breath. Now what is it I'm supposed to say? Something that'll turn him on. Okay, okay, I remember. I know what it is. Deep breath. Here it goes. Oh, Godalmighty, I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. Deep breath.

"M-m-my... ass," deep breath, deep breath, "is-is ready....," oh, holy Moses this is insane, "f-for its....." His eyes squeezed shut. It better not hurt dammit. "...spanking."

Delighted chuckle. The hand went away.

Silence.

Smack!

Yikes!!! Jesus, God, my butt's tingling. Oh, God. His dick dove into Hutch's leg where it met the mattress.

Smack!

God, my cock's so hard....

Smack!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." He geysered. All over Hutch's lap. Oh, JesusGodalmighty. Oh, God. Oh, God. He sagged lower between Hutch's legs. Oh, thank you, God. I don't care what happens. I'm in heaven.

SMACK!

Ouch!! Dammit, Hutch, that hurt. Squirming in protest.

Hutch laughed.

SMACK!

SMACK!

OUCH! My ass is raw, dammit.

SMACK!

All right, all right, stop. I'll never be bad again.

SMACK!!

Ouch!! He wriggled, trying to get away, but Hutch's knee held him firm. That hurt. My ass is stinging.

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

My nerves are getting damaged, my ass is so numb.

SMACK!!

Ouch!! There's a law against spanking somebody who doesn't have a hard-on. SMACK!!

"OUCH!" DAMMIT, that hurts!!

Hutch laughed.

Starsky tightened up his butt cheeks, waiting. What's he waiting for? Damn sadist. Thinking it's funny that my butt is on fire....

Hutch's hand rested on his sore ass, then rubbed over it gently.

Starsky released a pent-up breath. Oh, thank God. I think it's over.

"Starsky?" Softly. "Did it hurt? Yes or no?"

"Yes," he pouted, sagged across Hutch's lap.

"Was I fair about it? Yes or no?"

Uhhh..... Oh shit, just give in. "Yes."

"Did you deserve it? Yes or no?"

Shit. "Yes."

"Will this make you think twice about being bad? Yes or no?"

"Yes." I'll think twice all right, Hutch. If I'm horny enough, I might think twice as hard about being extra specially bad. Your hand has to get tired sometime.

"Will you deserve to be spanked tomorrow? Yes or no?"

Uh oh. That question was a trap, if there ever was one. How could he know if he was going to be bad tomorrow or not? 'Course, Hutch had said something about a pent-up desire to spank him for the past four years. So, maybe how bad he was on a specific day didn't really matter that much. Hutch just downright wanted to do it. "Yes."

"Will you deserve to be spanked the day after that? Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"And will you deserve to be spanked all the days after that, for as long as I'm in charge? Yes or no?"

Jesus, my butt's fate is sealed. "Yes."

"Do you understand why you need to be spanked on a daily basis? Yes or no?"

"Yes." Like hell I do. You're just a sadist, Hutch. Enjoying the hell out of spanking my ass. I'm raw. It hurts more now than when you were doing it. And imagine how much it's gonna hurt tomorrow, when you start in on it again.

"Stand up." Gentle words.

Starsky sighed. At least he could get out of this humiliating position. Hutch's hands were on him as he turned.

"Sit down on my lap."

Starsky did, and his raw ass came into contact with the cooling semen on Hutch's jeans. He yelped and thrust his pelvis up.

Soft chuckle. "Oh, bad idea. Stand up."

Starsky stood, still feeling too ashamed to meet those blue eyes.

"No," Hutch corrected, spinning a finger, "turn around."

Shit. Rub my nose in it. Sighing, he turned around, grateful that he was standing a few feet in front of Hutch, so the other couldn't touch his ass without moving from the bed. There. Proud of your work, you sadist?

"Pull up your shirt."

Shit. He grabbed his shirt at the sides and lifted it up.

Extended silence. Then, "I did a nice job, considering I was limited to only twelve spanks." Amused.

ONLY?

"I need to get a Polaroid camera so I can take a picture after each time."

Hutch, you're really going to get it....

Soft chuckle. Then, "Reach back and rub your hands over it."

Jesus, Hutch. A wave of humiliation washed over Starsky. All right, I'll give you a cheap thrill. He rubbed his hands up and down, wincing and sucking in his breath. Surprised you don't want to feel yourself. For that matter, why don't you stick your tongue back there and make up for all of this? Now, there was a thought. Hutch, I could handle my ass stinging if I knew I'd get a good rimming afterwards. Your pale white face buried between my beet-red ass cheeks....

"Okay, stop."

Gratefully, Starsky put his hands down. What a nice contrast. Would hafta get a mirror so I could see his face buried in there.... Just beautiful blond hair against my beet red ass, his face would be buried so deep.

"Does it still hurt? Yes or no?"

"Yes." The pout was still in his voice.

Hesitation, then, "More than before?" Hutch almost sounded concerned.

Now you're finally getting it, you dumb blond. "Yes." Come lick the hurt away, Hutch. Soothe my cheeks with your tongue. And when you're done with my tender, stinging butt, bury your nose in between them and make up for all of this....

Hutch was awfully quiet. Almost like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he asked, "What color do you think your butt is right now? Up to two words."

"Beet red."

Silence. And then all of sudden Hutch burst into laughter behind Starsky.

Goddammit, Hutch, that's not funny. You're such a damn sadist. You've had your fun. This isn't funny anymore. My ass stings, dammit. It needs special attention.

Hutch laughed for a full minute and half. Finally, he managed to say, "Starsky, do you want to look at your butt in a mirror? Yes or no?"

Why the hell would I want to do that? Haven't you humiliated me enough for one night? "No." The pout still hadn't left his voice.

Hutch was still suffering bursts of laughter. Then, voice full of affection, he said, "I love you so damn much. So, so, so much."

Shit, of course you do. Who else would let you beat their tender skin raw so you can have a cheap thrill?

Hutch was still gushing. "You're so good at this. You're so damn good at getting your spanking. God, I love you. I love you so much for marrying us. And I'm so glad we're going to do this every single night for the next eight weeks."

EIGHT? When the hell did it get up to eight? You can't handle being in charge that long, Hutch.

Hutch finally seemed to calm, other than suffering a few residual chuckles. Then he said, "Is there anything you want to ask me? Yes or no?"

Huh? I dunno. "Yes."

"One question. Take as many words as you need."

Uh... why the hell are you laughing so hard? "What color is it?" Pout.

More laughter, then the sound of a hand slapping a denim-clad knee. "Oh, Starsky. You imp. It's pink. Your butt is a very, very pale pink. Your ass gets a lot redder than that after I've been slamming into your backside for ten solid minutes."

You've never once lasted ten minutes, Hutch.

"I didn't hurt you one damn bit, you big baby."

Bullshit, Hutch. And what do you know about it? Have you ever had a grown man with big biceps smack your bare ass with his bare hand? You really hurt me, Hutch. You just wait. I'm gonna go out and get my very own sawhorse, and I'm gonna put your name on it. And the minute you turn the power back over to me, I'm pullin' out that sawhorse and telling you to drape your pale white ass over it. And I'm tying you down with ropes. Soft ropes. Soft ropes are bad news, Hutch, because that means you're gonna be tied down for a very long time. And I'm gonna get out that wooden paddle. And I'm gonna spend such a long time tellin' you how I'm gonna paddle you that you're gonna beg for me to do it, because you know how much you've got it coming after everything you've put me through. And I'll even raise the paddle in the air over your butt to make you think justice is finally being served. But then I'll suddenly drop to my knees and work your asshole - come on, Hutch, give me some attention back there - and you'll beg for me to stop and use the paddle instead, you need it so bad. You'll want the wooden paddle even more than my tongue up your ass, because the paddle is what you know you deserve. You just wait.

"All right, lover." Hutch reached for Starsky's hand, sounding stupidly cheerful. "Our lesson in humility is over for tonight. Turn around and come to bed."

Starsky turned around.

"Get undressed." Hutch was starting on his own clothing.

Starsky worked on his shirt, not meeting Hutch's eye. Despite what Hutch said about the color of his ass, he still felt he needed some attention in the first aid category.

Hutch was naked now and sporting only a semi-interested erection.

Shit, Hutch, I don't think you're even going to fuck me. My ass isn't red enough to be irresistible. How do you think that makes me feel? You're happier spanking me than fucking me. Something's wrong with you, Hutch. I've known you nine years and I've never seen you so happy. I don't think I like that about you. I want a divorce.

Starsky got on the bed and lay face-down in the middle, making it clear that his butt was too sore to be against the sheets.

Hutch curled up beside him and reached forward for a kiss.

Now he's gonna get all mushy.

"Mmmm," Hutch murmured sleepily. He kissed Starsky... slowly... gently... tenderly. "Love you so, so much."

Yeah, right. Explain that to my backside. Come on, get your tongue working back there.

Hutch stroked along Starsky's shoulders, massaging. "You've had your spanking and I've had my thanking and now we're ready for sleep."

Regular domestic household. That's us.

"Just think." Hutch sounded ridiculously happy. "Tomorrow you'll wake up to a beautiful new day, knowing that you're going to get your paddling at the end of it. Starsky, I can't wait. I can't wait to get to sleep so we can hurry and wake up and get the day going so we can hurry and get to the end of it."

You're sick, Hutch. We need to get a special doctor from somewhere important, like Washington D.C., to come out and examine you. I can't believe how happy spanking me makes you. And not even fucking me afterwards, even though I felt your huge hard-on while you were doing it. What's wrong with you, Hutch?

Starsky felt a hand resting on his back, and then Hutch was looking at him from the side. Soft, uneasy chuckle. "You aren't going to pout like this all night, are you?"

Starsky glared at him.

Then Hutch laughed. "You think your ass still stings, don't you?"

THINK??? My ass is flame, Hutch. A burning ember.

"Ahhhhhh," Hutch cooed, not even trying to hide how falsely sympathetic he was being. "My poor abused love."

I've been abused, all right. Get your tongue back there and make it better.

Hutch kissed him. Once... twice... three times....

Stop it, Hutch. I can't be mad at you when you kiss me like that. Floating away....

Hutch stopped and barely pulled back. A gentle finger circled around Starsky's lips. "I'm so glad you married us, buddy. I've never been so happy."

I want a divorce. But I'll reconsider if your tongue gets to work.

Suddenly, the sickly-cheerful face clouded over. Hutch furrowed a brow. "You want something, don't you?"

Bullseye, college boy. Let me speak and I'll give you full details on how you're gonna pleasure me.

Hutch just gazed at him a moment, blinking.

Dumb blond. I can't believe how slow you are at this.

Then, no longer teasing, "Do you want me to put something on it?"

Finally. He nodded, making sure his expression was still full of pout.

"Maybe some lotion?"

Jesus, you're dense. His frown deepened.

Hutch blinked again.

Jesus, how long does it take for that light bulb to go on? If you were any good at being in charge, Hutch, you would've already rammed your prick up my ass instead of thinking about how you're going to make me less mad at you. And if my ass wasn't red enough for you, you shoulda made it redder. Man, you're lousy at this.

Then the blue eyes brightened. "You want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Starsky restrained a sigh. If I say yes, he'll think I just want kisses back there. Hutch, your whole goddamned tongue better work me over good. Come on, tell me I can speak and I'll draw a map for you.

"First aid?" Hutch tried again. "Personal first aid?"

"You want me to soothe the hurt away?"

Yes. And don't make me tell you again.

"With what? Up to two words."

I only need one, stupid. "Tongue." He was still pouting.

Soft chuckle. "All right, you big baby. I'll love the hurt away."

That's right, Hutch. And every visible millimeter of my butt had better be glistening before you start down my crack.

Hutch took a deep breath.

That's right, blondie. Think about how your tongue is gonna to work my nice, smooth, tender butt. You want your tongue on my butt so bad, I can feel you trembling. Jesus, you're lousy at being stern with me.

"Then, afterwards," Hutch swallowed thickly, "I'll...."

Finish me off properly. That's exactly right. We both know where your tongue is going after you've tended to the hurt you've caused.

Hutch kissed him. Kissed him tenderly. Thoroughly. "Mmmm, I'm crazy about you. So crazy about you."

That's right. My butt owns you, Hutch. It's enslaved you. You're so obsessed with my ass that I can get you to do anything I want. Even when you're in charge.

Lips attaching to his once again, Hutch groaned blissfully.

Ah, man, Hutch, you're too good at this. How can you make me feel so good when I'm supposed to be mad at you?

Hutch's face was all soft as he pulled back. Then he shook a finger and teased, "Oops, you've got to watch that, buddy. I think your pout actually went away for a second there."

Very funny.

Another exceedingly tender kiss on Starsky's lips. Then, when he pulled back, "I love you so damn much. So, so much."

All right, all right. I love you, too. Big softie.

Another kiss, this one shorter. "You've made me the happiest man on earth."

Yeah, I know. All because you get to paddle my ass. You're missin' more than a few screws, Hutch.

Another kiss. Then soft teasing. "Your butt all ready to have the hurt washed away? Yes or no?"

"Yes." It's about time, Hutch. In fact, you've taken so long to get to it that I'm probably going to be asleep before you're even finished with my butt cheeks. That means that, when we wake up tomorrow morning, you'd better have your tongue up my ass, first thing. And it better not take two hours for you to figure out that's what I want. If I have to, I'll sit on your face to get the point across.

"All right, love." Long kiss. Long kiss. "Turn your beautiful self over."

Starsky shifted fully onto his stomach, but had to keep his head turned, because Hutch kept planting kisses, trying to get to his lips.

"One more," Hutch muttered, kissing. Then again. "One more."

Starsky laid his head down, with his face turned away. Hutch continued kissing up into his hair. Then bent over to his other side and found his lips again.

Starsky couldn't restrain a grin. Big softie. Then had to restrain a sigh as the kissing continued. Come on, Hutch, I've got other openings in my body where you can put your over-active mouth.

Hutch was straightening. Moving back....

Finally. Starsky sighed deeply, letting himself relax against the mattress. He spread his legs so Hutch could get comfortably between them. Then closed his eyes.

A looooong wet lick went up the outer edge of his left buttock, going halfway up the cheek.

A brief shift. Then another loooong wet stroke went up the upper half of his outer butt cheek.

A wave of goosebumps broke out along Starsky's skin. He closed his eyes, smiling inwardly. I'm not gonna even wriggle or whimper. I'm just gonna take it. Just lay here in a state of bliss.

He felt a stream of moisture drip down off the edge of his ass.

Mmm. That's right, Hutch. Drool all over them.

A soft noise came from behind Starsky as Hutch spread wetness up his lower half again, overlapping the first stream of worship. "Mmmmmmmm." Utter contentment.

Yeah... that's my Hutch. Ahhh, man. Maybe I won't have to get that sawhorse, after all. It's much better like this. You think you're in charge, but I really am. He restrained a snicker. I'm gonna be so bad tomorrow that I'll be up to 264 spanks. You're gonna be complainin' about how sore your hand is before you're done with me. I'll have come all over your lap sixteen times, and you'll still be waiting for your 'thank you'. And, boy, after that many smacks, my ass is going to need some major tender lovin' care. And I know I can make you do it, Hutch. Just like I made you tonight.

He felt himself starting to drift, content in that knowledge. Hutch's tongue was now travelling along to the inner side of his buttcheek.

Mmm... feels so good.

He restrained a yawn, knowing he was too relaxed to stay conscious.

* * *

Hutch's hand trembled as he pulled off a section of saran wrap from the roll. He very carefully placed it over the chef's salad he'd just prepared. As delicious as the salad looked, it was going to have to keep until later.

Starsky was waiting.

Hutch drew a deep breath as he put the salad into the refrigerator. And wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

Two evenings ago, he'd enjoyed it immensely when, unexpectedly, Starsky had forfeited control of their relationship. And Hutch's fantasy in recent days - which had actually started tickling his imagination years ago - suddenly had an opportunity to be brought to reality. Starsky had played his side of the game beautifully, squirming deliciously across Hutch's lap after he'd orgasmed. His partner may have pushed the pouting routine a bit far afterwards, but any trepidation Hutch had had that maybe Starsky really hadn't appreciated his paddling was dynamited into oblivion the next day - just yesterday?

Starsky had been impossible from the moment they'd awoken. After Hutch had fucked him, that is. While Starsky didn't talk unless spoken to, his actions all day long were annoying, irritating, and blatantly rebellious. He'd wriggled his butt suggestively before getting into the car. He'd whistled loudly while they were driving. He poured Hutch coffee and spilled it on his hand. He handed Hutch a pencil and "accidentally" dropped it to the floor. He made funny faces at Hutch when they were standing next to each other at the urinals. His most blatant act of rebellion had been when they got into the Torino to see a witness. Hutch was already in the passenger seat, and Starsky had crawled across him, his knee landing on Hutch's groin, and his butt in Hutch's face, in order to get to the driver's seat.

Hutch had already mentally counted fifty-two spanks before that little incident. He was in trouble. Starsky had called his bluff. He didn't think he could figure out a way to paddle Starsky that many times - and who knew how many more before the day was over - without actually hurting him. Unless he paddled him so gently that the whole thing would be pointless.

So, Hutch had been in a quandary all afternoon, trying to figure out how he was going to... handle... his partner. Punish him for all his insolence. Starsky was obviously expecting - relishing - the anticipation of being taught whatever lesson Hutch wanted to deliver. Sure enough, when they arrived at Starsky's place after shift, Starsky had eagerly trotted up the stairs, taken his shower, then gotten on the bed in the prescribed position, his shirttail draped over his butt. Hutch had stayed in the kitchen a while, having a beer, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He didn't want to disappoint Starsky.

Then he'd taken a shower to give himself more time to think, and it hadn't helped him to come up with any new ideas. He'd come into the bedroom naked, feeling a sense of doom that Starsky was going to "win" this little scenario. Starsky had a full hard-on, showing his eager anticipation, and a grin was lighting the side of his face, again showing his thorough enjoyment of how the day had gone... and was going to end.

Still uncertain of what he was going to do, Hutch had sat on the bed. Without any preliminaries, he'd patted his thigh and told Starsky to lie across his lap. His partner had obeyed immediately, squirming delightfully before settling across Hutch's thighs, thereby rubbing their hard-ons together.

Hutch had looked at those round butt cheeks presented to him for punishment. The well-defined crevice separating them. The darkness between. And he knew what he wanted - needed - had to do. His cock felt like it was doubling in size as his task became clear to him.

"Turn around and put your hands on the floor," he'd ordered in a shaky voice. But he knew his directions hadn't been clear, and Starsky shifted hesitantly, as though unsure of what he was supposed to do.

"Turn and put your hands on the floor," Hutch repeated with less patience. His own hands had grabbed Starsky's nearest leg and was trying to move it to the other side of himself. Starsky turned and, between both their actions, his upper body awkwardly fell to the floor, his hands reaching out to support himself, his chest over Hutch's knees.

Hutch had Starsky's left leg now to the left of him, while Starsky' right leg remained on his right. Yes, he was nicely between them, those beautiful butt cheeks raised to his face.

They'd actually been a bit shy with each other this morning, as though not quite able to face the intensity of what they had experienced. But there was definitely something to Starsky's beliefs about discipline, for last night's "punishment" had worked. Starsky had been almost a perfect angel today.

For which Hutch was very relieved. He didn't know how he could have possibly dreamed up something else if Starsky had been incorrigible again. As it was, if he had to spank Starsky, it would only be a couple of whacks. And that was hardly worth playing the game for.

Once again, Hutch was unsure of what he was going to do with Starsky when he walked into the bedroom. Starsky was in position, freshly showered, erect, and a grin lighting one side of his face. This time, Hutch was fully clothed. The blond placed an appreciative hand on one buttock and felt it shiver. He moved it up beneath the shirttail, then let his fingers trail down into the crevice, over the recess, down into the hanging pouch. He squeezed gently there, and Starsky made a little noise of appreciation.

No, after what he'd done last night, there weren't any new ways up his sleeve to pleasure that end. Hutch stepped around the bed to the front of his partner, looking down at the bowed head. He considered unzipping his fly, and telling Starsky to draw out his prick... using just his mouth. It was gratifying to know that he could have that - or anything else - merely by telling Starsky to do it. After all, Starsky would do anything for him - no matter how insane - simply because he loved him.

Hutch felt the flush of warmth, of awed disbelief, that it had come to this.

It wasn't that he had any trouble believing that Starsky loved him; only that that love was expressed so beautifully and willingly and openly. Hutch had never known, or expected to know, anything like that in his life.

And for all that beauty and intensity and heartfelt emotion, their sexual activities had started out in a bizarre - negative, actually - way, and had stayed at a level unlike any Hutch had ever known before. As he thought about it now, it occurred to him that in these ten days of intense sexual activity, none of it had ever taken place on an equal level. Even that first time, Hutch had only performed because Starsky had wanted him to. Since then, they'd fallen into some sort of dominance/submission game. Hutch had been so intent on playing it well, that he hadn't even realized until now just how those games had pervaded a hundred percent of their sexual expressions.

That fact was a little startling. Hutch noticed that his hand was stroking Starsky's head, and he decided he liked the simplicity of the act, and he kept doing it as uncomfortable thoughts rallied in his brain.

He'd been fully aware, two nights ago, that if Starsky hadn't liked anything that was happening, all Starsky had to do was say "No", say that he didn't want to play. And that would have been the end of it. So, Starsky had obviously enjoyed what took place between them.

Hutch bit his lip before he could utter a noise of surprise. It was the same when the shoe was on the other foot. At any time, when they were at the hotel and all those days afterwards, he could have simply refused to play. And yet, that freedom had never once occurred to him. Even though on some level Hutch had understood it was all a game aimed at acquiring the most intense pleasure, it had never dawned on him to consider refusing to participate. Throughout their partnership, it had been very rare when Starsky demanded anything of him. But whenever Starsky had said, "This is how it's gonna be", Hutch hadn't questioned it. And he hadn't even questioned it when Starsky had first taken charge of their sexual relationship when they were in that closet.

What does it say about us? Hutch wondered. Is it that we need those games in order to have sex together? No. He couldn't believe that. Didn't want to believe it.

He looked down at the mass of curls he was stroking. He wanted to kiss Starsky very badly right now. Wanted to curl up with him and be reassured that their behavior had been solely for pleasure, and not something either of them required. He wanted the games to end, and know that they could love each other just as intensely without them.

And once he was assured of that, they could play again.

Hutch reached down to grip Starsky's arm. "Buddy? Turn over and lie back," he said tenderly. "Lie back at the head of the bed." He moved to prop up the pillows so that Starsky could lie back against them. When the other was settled, Hutch straddled his thighs. Deep blue eyes regarded him warmly, curiously, and Hutch took Starsky's face in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss him... tenderly... sweetly....

It was always so beautiful, their kissing. Hutch thought his heart might explode from the sheer perfection of it.

When he pulled back, he swallowed and said, "I don't want to be in charge tonight. And maybe not tomorrow, or the night after that. I want... I want us to be equal... at least for a while." Exposing his heart....

The face inches from his softened, and Starsky smiled warmly and simply whispered, "Hello."

Hutch thought he might collapse. Because it was so perfect. He swallowed, to make sure words could make it past the thickness in his throat. "I want all of me to be inside of you, or all of you to be inside of me." Sharing mere body parts wasn't enough.

Starsky blinked. Then he reasoned, "Hutch, if one of us were completely inside the other, then there wouldn't be any reason to fuck."

Hutch thought about truth of that, yet was reluctant to let go of the fantasy. "But it would be like a continuous orgasm."

Slowly, Starsky shook his head. He put his arm next to Hutch's, where their forearms were uncovered. Hutch looked at his own pale skin against his partner's darker flesh.

"No, Hutch," Starsky said softly. He touched his chest hair revealed by the open buttons of his shirt, and then placed his hand against the same smooth area on Hutch. "The contrast is too beautiful. If we were both inside one body, the beauty of the other body would be lost."

Starsky spoke poetry. Hutch swallowed again, unable to believe the perfection of all the feelings between them, all the pleasure they had experienced and could experience again. The simple joy of being together right now. "I want to die," he said, forcing the words past the heaviness in his throat.

Starsky blinked, then shook his head. "No, Hutch," he corrected again, eyes gazing into Hutch's. "Just because it's too perfect now doesn't mean it won't still be perfect tomorrow." Hands came up and gently rested against the back of Hutch's neck. "What's been going on between us lately is only the beginning." Soft, provocative whisper. "It'll get better from here."

Hutch felt his heart slamming against his chest. It couldn't be better than it had already been. That was impossible. The prospect that what Starsky said might be true was frightening. Terrifying.

But his partner's voice was soothing. "I know that about you, Hutch." The words were slow and measured and affectionate. "I know that you're incapable of believing that a good thing can stay good. That when you receive pleasure on one day, you aren't supposed to feel it again the next day, because that would be an embarrassment of riches - an excess you don't feel you deserve. That when you cause hurt, you deserve to be hurt back. That life is hard and any occasional small blessings you receive along the way have to stay small and occasional."

Hutch felt a layer of skin was being peeled away, so that only nakedness remained. The nakedness of his soul. And he had nothing with which to cover himself.

"That's why it had to happen this way between us," Starsky said.

Hutch swallowed, wondering if he was ready to hear what Starsky was ready to reveal.

"I had to get us past what happened that first time," his partner said in the same measured voice. "And when it was good and beautiful between us, I had to show you that, every day, every hour, it could become even more good and beautiful. That the possibilities of what we can feel together are infinite." His hand came up and rested against Hutch's chest again.

Hutch closed his eyes. It may have all been a game, but it had also all been very deliberate. He was putty, for Starsky to do with as he pleased. He thought he should feel angry about that - used - but the only emotion he could come up with was hope. Hope for the future.

Starsky shifted slightly beneath Hutch. And his voice became more firm, while still retaining its soothing quality. "There's one thing that I can't deny. And that's that I know what it's like to know that you're dead. But since you're really here, in the flesh, in this body, I intend to make sure that we both enjoy it as much as humanly possible. Feel the pleasure that can come from being alive on this earth. And I'm not going to apologize for it, Hutch. I'm not going to apologize for making you feel as good as you possibly can, as often as I possibly can." Pause. "Because nothing is going to bring me more pleasure than that."

I want to die, Hutch thought again. It would mean he would never have to leave this place, where he was naked with the one person who would keep him covered with love.

That siren voice was softer now, more gentle. "And I also know, Hutch, that there's going to be times when you get into one of your moods, and you're going to start questioning what I've said. You're going to question if it's all right to feel so much pleasure so much of the time. And you're going to question if what's perfect can stay perfect. And there might even be times," thick swallow, "when you question if I really love you." Ultra-soft voice now, a hand stroking his shoulder. "But that will be all right, Hutch. Because when those times happen, I'll straighten you out."

Straighten you out. Hutch felt his breath catch in his throat. Wasn't that the phrase Starsky had used when fantasizing out loud at the hotel? He'd spoken of the sawhorse. Tying Hutch down over it because he'd been "bad" and needed to be straightened out. Is that what Starsky meant now? Is that how he would do it?

Tying him down would be a kindness, Hutch knew. It would mean he wouldn't have to worry about holding still. Holding still for the punishment Starsky would deliver... the punishment that would only come in the form of pleasure... no matter how little Hutch deserved it. Starsky would punish him with pleasure to show him that it was wrong to feel he didn't deserve it. That infinite pleasure was always his right.

At the hotel, Starsky had spoken of delivering that pleasure with his tongue. But Hutch knew there could be many other methods. If he was bent over a sawhorse, there were many other ways that pleasure could be delivered. The back of his body would be exposed to Starsky. Not justice the obvious areas, but the back of his legs. Starsky had proven by bringing Hutch's chest alive that he could make mundane areas of the body into highly erotic zones.

Hutch closed his eyes, cringing as he felt a flush break out over his denim-clad backside, imagining it helplessly exposed to Starsky.

And kept them closed as he felt his unveiling complete. Starsky knew all of him, all of his soul. Hutch was trapped, for there was nowhere within himself that was private from this man who was the center of life. Starsky knew him far too well. And therefore, Starsky possessed the capability to hurt Hutch to a tremendous degree.

"I love you." Nothing overly soft now. But raw fact.

Hutch's eyes snapped open.

"I love you," Starsky said again, gaze holding Hutch's. "I love you so, so much."

Hutch bowed his head.

Gentle scolding. "Don't turn those beautiful eyes away from me, when I tell you how I feel about you."

Hutch looked at Starsky again, but the feelings were still too strong. He closed his eyes, this time leaning forward....

It was the most beautiful joining in all the universe. His lips touched those soft, succulent ones across from him. The flavor on the tip of his tongue was everything that was good and wonderful. The perfection of it made him weak, and he turned his head to one side and collapsed against Starsky's shoulder. Arms were around him, hugging him - for the first time since before this all happened. The simplicity of the act made his chest fill with warmth, his heart's swelling tightening his throat. His own arms went around Starsky, squeezing tight that body he wanted so much to hold... and wanted so much to treat with great adulation.

They stayed like that for a long time. When Hutch thought he could speak, he whispered, "I want to die." He knew Starsky knew what he meant; yet, that still didn't prevent him from needing to say it, to express how, moment by moment, he wanted to enslave the feelings between them in such a way that they could never be lost. For as long as he were alive, loss was always a possibility.

When Starsky replied, his voice had changed. It was now one of play. "Uh-huh," he said as Hutch straightened so they could look at each other again. An elfin grin. "You don't think, for one minute, that I'm gonna let you get away with what you did to me the other night?"

Hutch thought. The other night. Starsky's spanking. His love deliciously writhing across his lap....

"You can't die, Hutch. Because first, of course, I have to get back at you for that."

Hutch felt his blood begin to circulate at an increased rate.

"Of course," Starsky relented, "it's not gonna happen tonight. Or tomorrow night. Probably not for quite a few weeks." Thoughtful pause. "We'll save it for a rainy day."

Hutch's eyes sought the window. When will it rain again?

Soft chuckle, and Hutch knew the thought behind it: You're so transparent. "'Course," Starsky went on in an amused tone, "it probably won't be a complete surprise. 'Cause there's probably going to have to be some preparation involved ahead of time." Another pause. "Maybe some custom work. Might have to buy a few things."

Hutch's mind raced ahead. The sawhorse was the image that came first. Custom work. Would Starsky go to that carpentry shop and have one built just for him? And preparation. Would Starsky measure him so that the horse could be built to the right size? And what about the rope? In his mind's eye, Hutch could see them both at a hardware store. Starsky examining various ropes. And then handing his selection to Hutch and telling him to purchase it.

There would be time involved in getting everything ready. And then waiting for it to rain. If they were lucky, maybe the rain would come before a weekend. A whole weekend of Starsky's "retaliation". A whole weekend of being the center of Starsky's attention. Just as, with the preparation, he would be the center of Starsky's attention. Just as he had been for so many days, starting with the hotel in Long Beach. Except it must have started even before that. He obviously figured that all out ahead of time.

That was the beauty of knowing Starsky was in charge. Knowing that Starsky was thinking about him, about what to do to him - how to pleasure him - nearly every moment of every day.

And then there would be the pleasure itself. Hutch shuddered....

What form would it come in? What part of Starsky would touch what part of Hutch? What part of him would be commanded to touch what part of Starsky? If he were tied down over a sawhorse, it would only happen one way. Starsky giving. Hutch receiving. What if it were too intense and he couldn't take it? He would have no choice but to accept whatever Starsky deemed appropriate.

It was the anticipation - and not knowing what was going to happen - that was always so perfect about it all. Hutch knew he was condemned to a continuous hard-on between now and when the rain started....

He returned to the present and looked at Starsky, found the other regarding him with a pleased expression.

"But that's all," Starsky said enticingly, "for later. I'm much more interested in what I'd like to do with you right now. Wanna hear about it?"

He'd prefer not to know. Just anticipate. But Starsky seemed to want to tell him. "Yes."

A grin of affection. Then a lulling, provocative voice. Starsky had one hand on Hutch's shoulder. With the other, he drew patterns across Hutch's cotton-clad chest as he talked. "You know how I've made this my project area? Made this part of your body real special? Well, I'm gonna start there, Hutch."

Oh, God. He loved it so much when Starsky was attentive to his chest.

Through the shirt, Starsky's finger each of his little nipples. "Gonna take my time there, Hutch. Take everything I've learned about your nerves in this area and use it, so all those little sensitive places feel as good as they possible can. And then, after I've awakened every nerve there and indulged it a while, I'm gonna prop your beautiful ass up on a pillow, and then push your legs apart, and then I'm gonna put my tongue down between your cheeks. I'm not gonna make you crazy there, Hutch; just gonna tongue real slow and easy, and get your nerves ready for what's gonna happen later. And then I'm gonna lick up into your balls. You know, Hutch, I don't really know them all that well. I need to educate myself on how they like to be licked and fondled... and swallowed."

Hutch realized his mouth was open as he felt fluid drip from his cock to dampen his underwear.

"And my tongue is gonna lick up the full length of your beautiful long prick. Gonna get it all soakin' wet. And then I'm gonna swallow it down. I love how the spongy part of the head feels against the back of my throat. Gonna swallow all around that area." His voice became very soft. "S'okay if you wanna take a long time to come. You just enjoy yourself while I'm enjoying you." Starsky licked his lips.

Hutch slowly closed his eyes, feeling himself turn to mush while imaging that incredible suction against his sensitive flesh.

Soft, affectionate chuckle. "And then, while you're lying there recovering, floating on a cloud of air, I'm gonna put a little gel on my fingers and put them inside your ass and stretch you out." Deep-throated whisper. "Spend a lotta time getting' you all ready for me. And then I'm gonna put my huge cock in there and fuck you from the front. And I'm gonna watch you watch me fucking you."

Hutch groaned, letting his eyes drift open. They'd never done it face to face before. Always something new. Starsky's imagination seemed non-stop. As was his desire to love him.

Hutch felt it, too. So encompassing. So soul-deep. So constant. He swallowed thickly, and was barely able to mutter his wishes. "The next time we fuck, I don't want us to ever part." He still felt determined to make them a part of each other... permanently.

Starsky's reply contained the barest hint of amusement, while full of deep emotion. "Now, you're wanting us both to die while connected to each other."

Hutch managed a slight grin while looking away, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

Starsky's voice was serious now. "You know what I should have realized when I was in that Godforsaken shit hole?"

Hutch looked at him, curious about the change in subject.

Dark azure eyes met his own. "I should have known you weren't dead because I couldn't feel you around me. Because, if you really had been dead, your spirit would have been with me, wouldn't it?"

Hutch gazed back at those orbs that were full of the need to believe. He felt moisture pool in his eyes. He didn't know what to believe himself other than what was in his heart. What Starsky said wasn't something he'd ever thought about. But now he realized the truth: If they were ever permanently joined, it would be in spirit. Any physical joining could only come from fucking. That could only happen while they were alive. But it couldn't be permanent. But that didn't mean they couldn't keep doing it over and over and over again....

"Yes," he replied gently. They would find each other after death. If they didn't die together, then the one who crossed over would delay his entry into heaven - or whatever afterlife there was - and watch over the other's life. Until then, they had the physical. And for now....

"I want to fuck you," Hutch said. "Right now." He liked the idea that Starsky had presented. "Face to face. For hours." Starsky's agenda had sounded delicious, but Hutch wanted this right now.

Starsky released a heavy breath. Then a small grin. "I think it'll be easier if you take your clothes off first."

Yes, he needed to do that. Hutch wrenched himself away from the bed. He took the pathetically flat tube of grease and tossed it to Starsky, knowing it wasn't going to be enough. In the bathroom, he found a jar of petroleum jelly in the medicine cabinet. After setting it on the nightstand, he started to undress. While doing so, he watched Starsky prepare himself with what was left of the grease. When the tube was tossed into the trash, Hutch nodded toward the jar. Gently, he said, "You might want to use some of that, too. I'm going to fuck you for a long time." In fact, he really hoped he could make it last so long that they'd eventually fall asleep while still joined. He didn't care whether they ever orgasmed or not.

But Starsky merely shrugged and, when naked, Hutch took the jar and applied a liberal helping of the thick gel to himself. While doing so, he watched the other stroke his swaying erection soothingly.

Hutch furrowed a brow, remembering that night at the hotel. That thick flesh had seemed like a monstrosity then. Incredibly huge. Now, Hutch felt that Starsky was without question well endowed, but not abnormally so. Interesting, how perception could be so easily manipulated. In fact, he wondered if his perception then had somehow been a conscious creation of Starsky's.

He also wondered if the intensity of their recent behavior had been a search for balance. So ripped apart they had been... faced with proof of each other's death. Now, so desperate to be together. To join for eternity.

Hutch stepped next to the bed. Starsky had rid himself of his shirt and Hutch reached down and felt along his furred chest. He discovered a nipple and rubbed his fingertip across it. "Hmm. Look what I found." He'd paid almost no attention to Starsky's chest up until now. A whole new world for him to explore. So much they'd already experienced together, and still there was more to discover....

Starsky grunted and Hutch realized he was being negligent. Starsky was looking at him with an expression that was loud and clear.

Hutch obliged... pressing his lips against the ones beneath him. Sinking into a warm, wonderful void... dying a slow death....

Eventually, it ended, but their faces were still very close together, feeling the heat of each other's breath.

Starsky whispered, "Are you going to kiss me the whole time you're fucking me?"

Hutch hoped it was mechanically possible. "Yes. And with one hand I'm going to stroke your cock. With the other hand, I'm going to rub your chest."

Starsky's hot breath exhaled against his face. "And I'm gonna have my legs wrapped around your waist. And I'm going to have one arm around you, holding you. And my other hand is going to be pressed against your heart."

Hutch swallowed thickly, feeling his eyes water.

Starsky nodded toward the wall. "Why don't you get the light."

Yes. This should all take place in darkness, so they could fall asleep together, with all possible parts of their bodies fully engaged with each other. He wanted so much for it to last all night.

Hutch left the bed and walked to the light switch. He turned if off. There was still light from the living room and he decided to let it be. When he turned back to the bed, Starsky was pushing a pillow beneath his rear to hoist it up.

Hutch moved to the bed. And began a new journey of loving.

Epilog