Archive of Our Own

"Hey Hutch! Ya gotta call on three," Gover announces from his desk in the squad room.

"Thanks. Hutchinson," I answer in a professional tone.

"Officer Ken Hutchinson. It’s good to hear your voice after all these years." The voice has an amused tone, like he’s smiling into the receiver.

"Who is this?" I ask, becoming irritated.

"It was a rainy night when I came into sight. Standing by the road- no umbrella- no coat and you offered me a ride."

My eyes widen. "Starsky? Dave Starsky?"

The voice chuckles. "So you remember me."

I glance around the squad room and lower my voice. "Of course I do. You’re a little hard to forget." I smile, feeling my face flush from the memory of that night.

"You’re a bit hard to forget too," Starsky replies.

I can’t believe it. Dave Starsky, my sexy, dark-haired stranger. My lover—my male lover for one night. We had one night of passion...one night of…

There’s an awkward silence, and I don’t know what else to say, so he continues the conversation. "What has it been? Six years?"

It’s difficult to believe that it's been six years since we met. After that night, I thought I’d never hear his voice again.

"Ah, yeah, Dave, it’s a little hard to believe that much time has passed."

"First off, call me Starsky; most people do. So, what have you been up to all this time?

"Well, I’m still a cop—a detective. What about you? What were you doing back then?" I ask him.

"I was driving a cab, but you’ll never guess what I’m doin now."

"What?"

"After being a bouncer for a bit, I applied to the police academy," Starsky states.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"I walked a beat for a couple of years, then was promoted to detective."

"You’re a detective?" I asked him, surprised.

"Yep."

"Wow, you did that in six years?"

"Yeah, they said I had a natural aptitude for the job," Starsky states proudly.

"That’s really something, Starsky. Congratulations."

"Thanks. So, are you still with...what was her name?"

"Van?"

"Yeah, Van."
"No, she finally left me," I admit, trying to keep the sorrow from my
voice.

"Oh man, I’m sorry."

"It’s okay. We didn’t need to be married anymore. We were miserable, so it turned out to be a good thing. Are you still with- I don’t think you ever told me her name."

"Don’t think I did. Her name was Cathy, and no, we’re not together. She’s still a cop, though, but she left her district. I think after we broke up, she asked for a transfer so she wouldn’t have to see me anymore."

"Sorry."

"Like you, it’s for the best."

"Did she know you wanted to become a cop too?"

"Yeah, I was a beat cop when she left. She said she never wanted to get involved with a cop because she would never know if he’d come back home."

I chuckle. "I guess a lot of women feel like that."

"I guess. So, ya seein anyone now? Did ya get married again?"

"No, I didn’t, but I’m dating a bit. What about you?"

"Same."

Another awkward silence, until this time I broke it. "So, how did you know where to call me?"

"Well, the closest city to where you picked me up was Bay City, so I figured you must be a cop in or near that area. I started calling all the precincts in Bay City, asking for you," Starsky says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That’s pretty good detective work," I tell him, impressed.

"Thanks."

"So why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you contact me?" I ask, waiting anxiously for his answer.

"I dunno. I was thinkin about ya," he says, pausing before saying, "I wanted to know how you were doin."

"Oh."

I didn’t know what else to say. He was thinking about me and wanted to know how I'd been doing. Is that really all he wants? Through the years, I thought of him often. I would sit and daydream about him. Van used to find me just staring into space and would ask me what was wrong, but I could never tell her. I couldn’t tell her that I was thinking about my male lover and the night we spent together. It was so weird when I made love to her for the first time after Starsky. It was like I was missing him. His maleness. His cock. The feel of it against my own. How it felt in my mouth. How mine felt inside his. Van never wanted to suck me off. She did it once and reacted like it was the worst thing she had ever done. The worst thing she’d ever tasted, but not Starsky. Starsky would suck me off and smack his lips. It was like my cum was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

I had the impression that it wasn’t Starsky’s first time with a man or giving a blowjob. He enjoyed it too much. He was so confident, so free, and so uninhibited with his body. God, that body. He was beautiful and the sexiest man I’d ever seen. And he knew how to love me. He loved me like I’d never been loved before. He had the most talented mouth when he sucked me dry, and he knew how to work my cock to make me cum multiple times. I wouldn’t let him fuck me, though, so I fucked him, and fucked him hard. Ya see, I’d had sex with a man. There was one guy that I fooled around with in college. I didn’t want his dick inside me either, but I fucked him. I don’t know; maybe I was afraid—afraid of the way it would feel, afraid it would hurt like hell. But when I put my dick inside Starsky, he seemed to enjoy it. He wasn’t in pain, or at least he didn’t let on that he was.

Now, I’m not a small man by any means. A few women, including Van, have told me that it hurt when I first entered them. I did my best to be slow and gentle, but I know it was still uncomfortable. I can’t imagine how it would feel for someone my size to go inside someone’s tight anus. I thought it would hurt like the devil, but both my college lover and Starsky allowed me to do it with no complaints.

"So, are ya still gorgeous?" Starsky asks.

The question takes me by surprise. He’s flirting with me and making me blush. Again, I glance around the squad room, feeling horribly embarrassed. "It’s only been six years." I snort. I wasn’t sure if I should ask him the same thing. I wasn't sure if I wanted to flirt back. I let the question hang in the air, then I asked without being direct. "Um... how about you?"

"Oh, I’m still the sexy Adonis you remember." Starsky’s voice was cool and self-assured.

He hasn’t changed. He’s still sexually confident, and it’s turning me on. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt this way. The last time was…six years ago. I closed my eyes and could see him—sex on two legs. The way he strutted around naked in that hotel room without any self-consciousness. It was so arousing. Jesus, my pants are getting tight.

"Hey, ya still there?" Starsky inquires.

"Ah, yeah, I’m still here." I swallow nervously, trying to get myself together. "So, um… I think we’re all caught up." I don’t know where this is heading. I don’t know if I should just end the conversation and go on with my life. I await his response.

"Just about. Ya wanna grab a cup of coffee?"

And there it is. He wants to continue this, whatever this is. What should I do? Should I say yes and meet him for coffee? His voice alone is stirring things up. What would seeing him do? But on the other hand, I would like to see him again. It doesn’t have to lead to anything. It’ll just be a cup of coffee with an old friend, but he wasn’t really an old friend; he was an old...

"Sure, okay." I say, a little too eager. "Where are you? Are you in the city?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I’m right outside on a pay phone. If you go to the window, I’m sure you’ll see me."
Suddenly, I feel a little unsettled. Had this guy stalked me? First he searched me out and called me, and now he’s right outside. I put down the receiver and went to the window. I search for a pay phone and spot one across the street. The guy using it looks up and waves at me, and I wave back, then return to the phone.

"What if I said I didn’t want to have coffee?" I ask with some irritation in my voice.

"I would have left. Hey, this is no big deal. I just thought it would be nice to chat somewhere more private. If you don’t want to, it’s fine."

I heard him say it’s fine, but I could also hear disappointment. How horrible would it be to go somewhere public and chat? I figure we don’t have that much more to talk about, but it would be nice to see him up close…to smell him... and look into those sparkling sapphire eyes... Okay, Hutchinson, just stop it.

"No, that’ll be fine. Do you know that diner on Fifth? It’s right next to the Arco station."

"I think so. I’m sure I’ll be able to find it," Starsky assures.
"Good. Let’s say two hours. I need to finish up some stuff here before I leave for the day."

"Two hours it is."

The call ends, and I sit listening to the dial tone before replacing it in its cradle. I lean back in my chair, blowing out my breath…exhausted. All this reminiscing makes me feel like I’ve gone through years in just…I checked my watch—20 minutes. I straighten up and begin to finish up some reports before I call it a day.

***S&H***

When I’m done, I tell Dobey I'm leaving for the day. I grab my jacket off the back of the chair and head out. I had about ten minutes before meeting my dark stranger, who wasn’t really a stranger anymore. I hopped into my Ford and drove a few miles to the diner. As I pull up, I see this tomato-red Ford Torino with a white stripe on its side parked in front. I pull up behind it and notice that there’s someone behind the wheel. I get out, close my door, and stroll toward the driver's side window. As I peer inside, I see a curly, dark-haired man with one foot on the dashboard, reading a wrestling magazine.

"Starsky?"

The brunette sits up, putting the magazine on the passenger seat, then climbs out of the car and stands in front of me. "I got here a little early," he admits with that lopsided grin. Oh, that lopsided grin...

"I can see that," I say, giving him a small smile. I’m not sure if I should hug him or what, but as if reading my mind, he grabs me and gives me a bear hug.

"Here’s my big, beautiful blond," he grins, stepping back to look me in the face. "Still gorgeous."

I blushed, looking around to see if anyone was witnessing this. Then my eyes settled on him. He looks basically the same. His hair was a little longer than I remembered, and he’d put on some weight, but it looked good on him—more muscular. I cast my eyes downward and notice the skin-tight jeans with the nice package, Hutchinson…down boy. He was wearing a well-worn brown leather jacket and blue Adidas sneakers. When I brought my eyes back up to his face, he was grinning at me. It was a knowing grin, like he could read my thoughts and see them in my eyes. I lower them, feeling a little embarrassed.

"So, should we go inside?" Starsky asks, slapping me on the back.

I step back and take in his ride. "This is what your girlfriend drove away in, leaving you stranded that night." I try not to show the disdain on my face. The car was so ostentatious.

"Yep, this is my baby, a 1976 Ford Gran Torino." The brunette beamed as his eyes washed over the Torino, and when I didn’t make a comment, he looked at me. "So whadaya think?"

I thought about what I could say that wouldn’t insult him. "We have different tastes," I reply, glancing at my baby as I saunter toward her, with Starsky following.

Starsky places his hands on his hips and looks my car over. "This is your car?" he asks in a disapproving tone.

"Yep, Ford Galaxie 500. She’s a beaut, isn’t she?" I state with pride, ignoring his unpleasant expression.

"She’s somethin alright. Why don’t we go inside, huh?" he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and walking me inside.

**S&H**

We get a booth against the window in the back, so we’d have some privacy. The place isn’t crowded due to it being after lunch and before dinner. I call the waitress’ attention, and a petite blonde scampers over, pad in hand.

"Hello. What can I get for you?" she asks cheerfully.

"A cup of coffee, cream, no sugar," I say, then glance at Starsky.

"Shweetheart, lemme get a cup with cream and two sugars."

The waitress jots it down, then looks from me to him. "Is that all?"

I nodded after seeing Starsky agree.

"I’ll be right back," she says, turning away.

"Was that Bogey?" I ask him.

"Yeah. He’s the best, isn’t he? Gotta love Casablanca," he grins enthusiastically. He’s so cute when he gets all excited. Hutchinson.

I wasn’t really a big Humphrey Bogart fan, but I had seen the movie, probably once. "Yeah, great movie," I reply.

Now we’re alone, and he’s staring at me with a smile on his face and an arm casually resting on the back of the seat. I’m uncomfortable and look away, grabbing the menu on the table.

"You hungry?" he asks.

"No, not really," I tell him truthfully, and I put the menu back in its holder.

He continues to look at me. I’m not sure what he’s looking at, but he keeps doing it, like he's trying to read something in my face. I think he could tell I was nervous. I finally look into his handsome face, and for a moment, I can’t speak. His expression is lustful. Yeah, he looks like he wants to devour me.

I take a deep breath before speaking. "So, Starsky, do you have the day off or something?"
"Yes, I do," he replies simply.

Just then, the waitress comes back with two mugs and a pot of streaming coffee. She gingerly fills each mug. "The sugar and cream are on the table. Let me know if you need anything else." She smiles and walks away.

"Cute chick," Starsky acknowledges as he reaches for the container of cream and pours some into his coffee, then slides it to me. I take it, pour some into mine, and place it back on the table. As I’m stirring my coffee, I watch him pour sugar into his. It seems to go on forever.

"You like it sweet," I say, smiling as I sip the hot brew.

After finally putting down the sugar dispenser, he looks at me. "Yeah, I like it sweet and light," he says, giving me a wicked smile as he slowly brings the mug to his lips.

There was no doubt that he was flirting with me. He came back to see if we could continue what we had six years ago. Jesus, do I want that? Do I really want to be with this amazingly sexy man again? To feel his hands caressing me? His mouth on me? My cock in his tight, hot ass? I suddenly felt my face flush, and I pray he can’t see it.

"You okay?" Starsky asks, putting down the mug, concerned.

"Yeah, why?"

"Your face suddenly got all red," he states, studying it.

Shit! He noticed.

"Oh. It’s just a little hot in here." I take off my jacket, lay it next to me, and pull my shirt away from my sweaty chest. It wasn’t the place that was hot; it was him.

Starsky sits back again and eyes me. "Maybe you should drink some water." He beckons the waitress to bring some. When she goes to fetch it, Starsky looks at me again. After his eyes wash over me, he leans forward with his elbows on the table.

I move toward him in order to hear what he’s about to say.

"Are you nervous?" he whispers in my ear, then sits back to observe my reaction.

Damn! I had hoped he wouldn’t notice. "Yeah, a little." I chagrin.

The waitress comes back and places a glass of water in front of both of us. I immediately grab mine and down most of it before the waitress walks away. I put down the glass, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Starsky pushes his toward me, and I shake my head, saying I’m good.

"Yeah, ya are. You're real good," he whispers. This time, the look of hunger was visible in the indigo eyes. It was almost feral.

I was getting a little tired of his relentless flirting. Yes, it was turning me on, and that was also confusing. I still don’t know why he contacted me to begin with, other than to say that he was thinking about me and wanted to know how I was doing. All this flirting is telling me he wants more.

"Look, Starsky, you’ve been flirting with me ever since our phone conversation. I need to know, did you contact me because you want to start something up again?"

There, I said it. It’s out there. I already know what he’s going to say, so I look into his cobalt eyes and wait.

He gives me that crooked smile. "Is that what you think, Blondie?"

I didn’t expect that answer. I thought he’d admit it right away, so I didn’t know what to say. I give him a small shrug and a tight-lipped smile.

"Is that what you want?" Starsky’s blue eyes are bright as he tries to get the truth out of me.

I honestly didn’t know. I can feel what little Ken wants, but big Ken isn’t so sure. Would this be a good thing? Would it be just another one nightstand? Or would it lead to something more? A relationship? Did I want that? Do I want to live my life as half of a gay couple? Would that make me gay? Am I gay? Is he gay? Too many fucking questions.

Like Starsky could see my inner turmoil, he reaches out and grasps my hand. Surprisingly, I don’t draw it back.

"Ken, it’s okay. I didn’t come here to freak you out. It’s just a question. If you’re not sure, it’s cool. No pressure. Take all the time you need. I want this to be something you want, okay?"

He ends it by placing a hand on the side of my face. His hand lingers a little too long, and I find myself leaning into it, closing my eyes. When it's removed, I open them, and we lock eyes for a moment.

I sigh. At least I know now that he does want to continue where we left off.

"Call me Hutch. I don’t know Starsky. I’m sorry. I just don’t know."

I hate saying that. I want to give him what he wants, but I’m really not sure. I’m not sure if I want it yet. I can see the disappointment in the cobalt eyes, and it breaks my heart.

"Like I said, it’s cool. Think about it." Starsky stands up and throws a buck on the table. "The coffee’s on me, and tell the waitress to keep the change." He winks and turns away.

"Hey," I call to him, and he turns back. "If...if I...um. Where can I reach you?" I ask meekly.

He digs into his jacket pocket, pulls out a card, throws it in front of me, then saunters off. I watch his swagger and his ass until he opens the door and walks out. Picking up the card, I read it:

Bay City Police Department
David Michael Starsky
Detective Sergeant
Precinct 9

I look up from the card, scowling. "What the fuck!"

***S&H***

I pull up at 2000 Ridgeway Avenue. Right away, I see that striped tomato parked out front. I park behind it and climb the stairs, two at a time. Once I get to the door, I begin to pound on it urgently. From inside, I can hear him approaching and complaining about the frantic knocking. He pulls the door open aggressively, like he’s ready to confront whoever it is. Once he lays eyes on me, his expression changes from anger to surprise, then elation.

"Hutch, what…"

Before he can complete the sentence, I push past him and spin around. He stares at me curiously, then shuts the door. When he does, he walks toward me like he wants to embrace me or something, and I step back.

The dark-haired man blinks at me, not understanding my behavior or the anger in my eyes. "Is everything okay?

I glared at him, not knowing how to answer such a loaded question.

Oh, have I mentioned what he was wearing when he answered the door—or should I say not wearing? Okay, get the picture: no shirt, bare feet, little (and I mean little) cut-off jeans with frayed ends, and the top button open. When I observe him for the first time, I feel my heart pounding and my cock coming to life. I imagine him out of those cut-offs and standing before me, naked. No, Hutchinson, you didn’t come here for that. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I'm angry with him.

"No, everything’s not all right!" I shout.

"Okay. Let’s talk about it," he says calmly, which makes me angrier if that were possible. "But first," he continues, "how did you know where I lived?"

"I’m a detective asshole, and you gave me your fucking card. I contacted my precinct to get your address." I throw the card at him, and he bends down to pick it up.

"It says: Bay City Police Dept., Precinct Nine. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were transferred there when you called me?" I yelled, stepping menacingly toward him.

"Whoa, hold on, Hutch. Calm down," he said, fending me off with outstretched hands as he backed up.

"Don’t tell me to calm down! How long have you been at my precinct?" I decided to move away from him, so my fist couldn’t easily make contact with his face.

"I made a lateral transfer from Precinct 5 a little over two weeks ago."

"In Homicide?"

"Yeah."

"How come I haven’t seen you if you’ve been there for two weeks?"

"Somehow I was able to avoid you. When I met with Captain Dobey, you weren’t there, so I guess by coincidence we never bumped into each other." He shrugs, giving me a stupid grin.

I blow out an audible breath and pace. "So, let me get this straight. You decide to move to Bay City because I live here."

"Yeah."

"Then, to get even closer to me, you transfer to my fucking precinct."

"Yeah." His voice is becoming less audible.

I rubbed my hands over my face. "So, you planned this whole thing just to see me again?"

"Y-yeah."

He looks like a sorrowful little boy, but it’s not going to work. He keeps saying ‘yeah’ to every question I ask, and it’s really getting on my nerves. "Would you stop sayin "yeah" and explain yourself?"

He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. "You said it—I wanted to see you again."

"All you had to do was call me, like you did, and ask me to meet you, like I did. What’s with all this subterfuge?"

He sighs and lowers his eyes. "I needed to have a plan in case you didn’t want to see me. Plus, I was scared."

I raised my eyebrows. "You, Mr. Confident, were scared? Of what?" I ask, challenging him.

"In the note you left, you said not to find you, but I needed to. I planned all of this and couldn’t tell you because you’d think I was some weirdo stalker."

"Too late; I already think that," I say, without humor.

"I knew it was weird, but I really wanted to see you and maybe even "be" with you again. He looks up at me, and when he sees my neutral expression, he continues, "I figured if I was where you were, it could actually happen."

This manipulative son-of-bitch

"So, when were you gonna tell me about all of this? Pillow talk after we fucked each other’s brains out? Is that when you would have finally come clean?"

Fuck! Look at the way he’s looking at me. It’s like I’ve given him hope. Why the hell did I have to say that? Did I just admit that I want us to have sex? He’s walking towards me with that confident swagger and that look in his eye—that devouring look. He backs me up against a wall and is standing so close that I can feel his erection.

"Is that what you want, Blondie? You want us to fuck each other’s brains out?"

Shit! Yes! Goddamn it! Yes! I don’t say it out loud, and I’m trying not to touch him because if I do, it’ll be all over. He’ll have me. I push him back and turn away. When I turn around, he’s standing there, chest heaving, looking into my eyes. I glance down at his bulge, and he’s squeezing himself through the denim as he continues to lock eyes with me.

"Is this what you want? It’s right here, but you have to come and get it." He steps back, slowly pulls down the zipper, freeing his cock, and begins to stroke it.

I swallow hard, unconsciously licking my lips. I remember how good he tasted when he fucked my mouth. He’s making himself hard as he continues to stare at me. Jesus! Now he’s pinching one of his nipples, then the other. My cock is growing as I watch him pleasure himself...for me. He’s so damn sexy. I can’t take my eyes off him, but I don’t want to give in. He manipulated me to make this happen.

I look away from him and head for the door, but before I reach it, he grabs my arm. "Don’t go? I know you want this. I know you want me."

"You manipulated me to get what you want, and I’m not gonna give it to you!" Once again, I turn away and put my hand on the door knob. When I pull the door open, he slams it shut, then roughly spins me around to face him. He presses me against the door, inches away from my face, my body, my... Both hands are on either side of my head.

"Yeah, I admit that I manipulated you, but it was because I wanted you, and I would have done anything to make that happen." He tries to read my face, but I do my best to keep it objective. "Don’t you fucking stand here and say you don’t want me too!" The dark blue eyes were bright with anger.

I turn my head away from him, and he places a hand on the side of my face, turning it back. "What? You want me to say I’m sorry for manipulatin you into doing something you want to do? Sorry for making you realize somethin that you’re too chicken shit to admit to yourself. Admit you enjoyed sucking my cock and sticking your dick in my ass all those years ago, and now you want to do it again."

We lock eyes, and when I don’t respond, he moves in to kiss me, and I push him hard, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor. He lies there, not moving. Shit! I rush to him.

"Starsky! Wake up! Come on, wake up!" I yell, shaking him and giving his face a few light slaps. "Christ, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to get away from me."

I lean down and put my ear to his mouth to see if he’s breathing. Suddenly he grabs the sides of my head and kisses me hard. I pushed away from him, falling backward.

"You asshole! You fucking asshole! You were faking! You scared the shit outta me! I thought I really hurt you." I get up off the floor, still determined to get out of here, and once again he stops me with a strong grip on my arm. "Goddamn it! What part of no don’t you understand?" I shout, wrenching it out of his grasp.

"Not true, and you know it! You were afraid you hurt me, and that means you care. You care about me, and you want me! Are you just gonna walk out of here? Can you live with yourself knowing that and doing nothing about it?"

I close my eyes. The bastard was right. I know I would regret leaving him and feeling the way I do. The way I feel about this once-lonely boy in the rain. A lonely boy who gave me pleasure one night. Pleasure that I’d never known before from anyone. I want him. I wanted him ever since I heard his voice on the phone. I wanted him as soon as I laid eyes on him. And he’s right...damn him...he’s right. I enjoyed sucking his cock and putting mine inside his firm, tight ass. I loved every minute of it, and I missed it. God, how I missed it...missed him, and I’d be a fool to not have that again...have him again.

I turn back to him, and he’s standing there with big blue pleading eyes, his fly open, and his semi-erection hanging out. I rush him, pushing him back onto the couch. I immediately pulled off his shorts, leaving him naked and waiting for my next move.

I look down at this beautiful naked man and crawl on top of him. Placing a hand on either side of his head, I look into his cobalt eyes. "You say I want you. Well, I’m gonna show you just how much."
I stand up and strip off my clothes, then flip him onto his belly. I observe the fine piece of ass before me. I’d like to ram my dick into the tiny hole right away, but I know I can’t...I wouldn’t. "You got any lube?" I ask, my voice husky with need.

Starsky looks back at me. "You don’t need any," he says adamantly.

I chuckle knowing he’s just saying that because he wants it so bad, but that’s not gonna happen. I know what this python between my legs could do if I go in dry. I have no intention of hurting this man on purpose.

"Oh, yes, I do," I tell him as I get off the couch and pad into his kitchen. I started opening cabinets.

"What the fuck are you lookin for?"

"Lubrication. Ya got any…" Just as I was about to ask, I found what would work. I snatch it from the cabinet and jog back.

He’s turned on his side with his head propped up on his hand. He glances at what I brought back. "Crisco? What the hell are ya gonna do with that? Fry some chicken?" He snorts.

I don’t address that smart-ass remark and begin to prepare myself. I coat my dick with the shortening and glance at him. He’s watching me with an amused expression.

"Oh, so you gonna fry up your dick. Yum."

I roll my eyes at the absurd remark. "Shut up, dummy, and lay back down," I order, and he obeys. I grab his hips and pull him up on his knees, with his elbows on the couch cushion. He spreads his knees apart. Now his ass is on full display, along with the underside of his cock and balls. I have to take a moment to take in the sight. Christ, this man’s ass, and right now it’s all mine to do with as I please.

Like they had a mind of their own, my hands started sliding over the smooth, firm orbs, occasionally squeezing them. They feel so good under my hands, and I can tell it feels good to my captive, as it elicits soft moans. My thumbs spread his cheeks, exposing the puckered hole, and I rubbed a thumb over it. He groans and pushes back, wanting more, but I’m not going to give it to him...yet. I take a hand off his butt cheek and swat it hard.

"OW! What the fuck, man!" he shouts, reaching his hand back to rub out the sting.

"You need to be patient and not rush me. Do you understand?" I tell him in a stern voice.

He looks back with wide eyes. I see him swallow hard and nod. He puts his head back down, and I continue to prepare him. After dipping a finger into the thick shortening, I take out a small dollop and position my finger at his entrance. I slowly push the digit inside the narrow canal and don’t stop until I’m up to my last knuckle. He begins to push back again, but as if remembering my threat, he stops and is still.

I thrust my finger in and out, twisting it around, then I removed it. After adding another Crisco-coated finger, I do the same thing, but this time I curve them as I twist. Suddenly his ass starts gyrating, and he’s moaning like crazy. I figured I hit his prostate, so I did it again just to make sure, and he reacted again.

"Like that, huh?" I ask, and he moans his answer. "Then how ‘bout another?" I remove my two fingers, add a third, and gradually push them in. He moans louder, and when I curve all three deep inside, he almost falls off the couch.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouts.

I smile deviously as I pull out my fingers, wipe them on a towel, and throw it on the floor. After moving him back in place, I look down at his quivering behind. He’s so ready for me. I take hold of my cock and rub the head up and down his crack. I stop occasionally at his anus, like I’m going to push it in, but I don’t. He’s moving his hips, trying to make friction with the head.

"Fuck me already!" he demands, and that earns him another hard swat on the butt-cheek.

He yelps and stills for a moment, then pleads in a quieter voice, "Please. I beg you. Please fuck me."

I smirk. I got him just where I wanted him—begging for it—but am I gonna do it? Nope, not just yet. This manipulative little bastard is going to pay for doing that, so I’m going to continue to exquisitely torture him. I keep sliding my dick along the crevice, and his hips are bucking wildly. He wraps his arms around his head of curls and moans into the cushion in an effort to endure the glorious torture.

He’s moaning non-stop now and producing inaudible sounds. His cock is rock hard, pointing north, and his scrotum has drawn up against the base of his cock. He’s close, very close, but I can’t let him come, so I put my hand between his legs and squeezed the head of his dick, decreasing his urge to orgasm. Now I concentrate on the sensitive patch of skin that lies between the scrotum and anus—the perineum. His position gives me easy access to this area. I place the pad of my index finger on the tender skin, wiggling it.

Suddenly, the brunette falls over onto his side, preventing further contact with the area.

"What the hell!" I shout.

He turns to look at me, propping up on an elbow. "I c…couldn't… I can’t take it. Sorry." He pants.

I see that he’s still sporting an impressive hard-on, and I smile. The overstimulation hasn’t made him come. Without a word, I flip him back over—ass up, knees spread, head down. I push a finger deep into his ass, making sure I’m touching his pleasure center every time.

"I know w-what you’re doin, you bastard," he mumbles into the couch cushion. "You’re gettin b-back at me for m-manipulatin you."

"Move this boy to the head of the class," I say, adding another finger and watching him writhe.

"Please. I’m s-sorry. I really am. Please, for the love of God! Let me come!"

"Has anyone ever told you how fucking sexy you are when you’re all aroused and begging for release?"

No answer: he just groans louder. At this point, I’m sure his neighbors are either going to call the cops or start pounding on the door for all the racket to stop. I pull out my fingers and move off the couch, and he looks back. "W-where ya goin? Ya can’t leave me like this. Come back!"

"I’m a bit thirsty. I’m gonna get a drink of water," I say, padding to the kitchen with my cock pointing the way. Ya see, my curly-haired friend isn’t the only one suffering here. My cock is also rock hard and in need of release, but my discomfort is worth his. I make a point to take my time getting the water. I drink the entire glass at the sink and place the empty glass in the sink. When I go back into the living room, I stop dead in my tracks as I see my extremely horny friend pleasuring himself.

"Fuck you, man. If you’re not gonna get me off, then I will!" He’s jerking himself off fast and furiously.

I grab his left hand, stopping him, but he replaces it with his right, and I grab that one too. Now I’m holding both of his wrists in each hand, and he’s struggling. I push him back on the couch with his hands above his head and straddle him, putting my full weight on him. Our stiff cocks are pressed painfully together, and now it’s difficult for him to move, so he begins to yell...

"Damn it! Get off me! Get the fuck off me!"

I look down at his sweaty, flushed face and enraged, dark blue eyes and hold still until he stops struggling. Once he does, I ask, "Are you gonna be a good boy now and let me finish what I started?"

His harsh breathing fills the silence of the room, and we lock eyes. This alone seems to calm him, and he swallows, then nods. I immediately got off him. He’s still breathing hard and doesn’t move. As I stand to observe him, I see his cock is still quite erect, which tells me he enjoyed that little encounter.

"Can I move now?" he asks, sarcastically with rage in his eyes.

I chuckle. "Yeah, sure, but don’t touch yourself."

He slowly leans up and sits cross-legged. He blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his damp curls, then looks at me, narrowing his eyes.

"What?" I ask him.

"What the fuck was that? Are you some kind of sadistic sex freak?"

I snort. "Is that what you think that was?"

"Yeah. Is that the kind of shit you’re into? Cause if it is, I’m outta here." He moves to get off the couch.

"Stay there. I’m not finished with you yet." I try not to sound too menacing, because I don’t want him to run off. I just want to make him curious enough to want me to finish him. He stares at me for a moment, then sits back down. My eyes focus on the stiff, weeping cock lying against his belly. "I think there’s something that needs attending to."

He follows my eyes to his cock and snorts. "Yeah, and that’s what I was tryin ta do, but you wouldn’t let me."

Was he actually pouting? Adorable.

I sit on the couch near him, and he slides toward the arm. I’m not sure if he did that to get away from me or so I won’t sit on him.

"You poor baby. You really wanna come, don’t ya?"
I know I’m being a sadistic asshole right now, but he deserves it.

"Yes, I do! Look at me!" Starsky shouts, then he glances at my weeping dick. "Seems like I’m not the only one," he observes, with a hungry look in his eye.

"But it’s not about me. Were you enjoying what I was doing to you?"

He thinks about it. "Yeah, until..." he says, glancing at his now-softening penis.

"Until what…?" I ask, sensually sliding my hand up and down his inner thigh and stopping just at his groin.

The indigo eyes watch my hand, hoping that I will touch him. "Until you kept doin that shit to me, gettin me on the verge, then stoppin. Do you know what that feels like? It’s fucking torture. I just couldn’t take it anymore."

"Okay. I think you’ve paid enough for your crime." I stand up and start moving my hand along my shaft, making it firm again.

Starsky watches me, and his sapphire eyes brighten. He quickly gets back into position—ass in the air, arms around his head. I wonder if I should put more Crisco inside him, but I’m thinking he already has enough in there, so I kneel behind him. His body tenses in anticipation, so I slide both my hands up his back to his shoulders, kneading the stiff muscles. My hands move back down to the small of his back and continue to the firm globes, squeezing them.

"Relax, babe," I say in a soft, soothing voice. I feel him obey and relax, then I place the head of my cock at the tiny opening, slowly sinking in. I hear him take in a sharp breath and try to relax his sphincter. As I feel it opening, I push the head in, breaching the ring of muscle. He grunts and arches his back.
"More…please. More." He rasps, and I obey.

I push all the way inside the incredibly tight canal. God, it feels so good. I slide out, keeping the head in, then push back in all the way to the base.

"Faster, harder!"

I begin to move faster, thrusting my hips while holding onto his.

"Oh God, yeah! That’s it! Faster! Fuck me! Fuck me good!"

I’m thrusting hard, and my heavy balls are slapping against his perineum. He moans louder and lets out a guttural scream every time I hit his prostate. He rises up and grips the arm of the couch to prevent his head from banging into it.

As I pound into him, his head thrashes back and forth. "Shit! I’m gonna come!"

After hearing that, I immediately pulled out and flipped him onto his back. I quickly bring his legs up, putting them on my shoulders, and enter him again before he has the chance to protest my pulling out. With a hand on either side of his head, I look into his face. "I wanna see those sapphire eyes when you come," I tell him, and I start banging him good. I feel him grip my ass, making me push further into him, as if that were possible. We maintain eye contact until he shuts them tight as his orgasm takes over. His rock-hard cock is lying on his firm belly, and I watch as it begins to shoot warm cum all over his chest and belly until the contents of his scrotum are depleted.

Now it’s my turn. I can feel my release approaching—my balls tighten, and I scream as I explode inside him. I stay still until I ride out the orgasm, then I slide out of him with a slopping sound. After falling back on my haunches, his legs dropped heavily on the couch. A sudden urge to pee hits me, so I get off the couch and look around for the bathroom. When I don’t locate it, I ask, "Where’s the..."

"In my bedroom," he answers, weakly lifting his finger to point in the direction.

"Don’t move. I’ll back right back."

"I ain’t goin nowhere," he says warily.

After peeing, I return to the living room with a warm washcloth. "Lift your legs up," I tell him.

He brings his head forward to look at me. "Hey, I can do that," he tells me, reaching for the cloth.

I bat his hand away and repeat. "Lift your legs and spread em."

Once he reluctantly obeys, I begin to wipe the seeping cum from his anus and down his crack. When I get to his genitals, he hisses, so I stop and look at him.

"Still kinda sensitive, ya know," he admits, chagrining and propping himself on his elbows to watch as I clean him.

I smile and move on to his belly and chest, then sit back, observing my handiwork. "There, all clean," I announce, throwing the damp cloth on the floor. I then sit at the end of the couch with one knee bent and one foot on the floor, facing him.

"Thanks." He sits up in the same position, but with his arm resting on the back of the couch. "What about you?" Starsky asks, glancing at my deflated dick.
"I did it when I was in the bathroom taking a leak, but thanks."

"Sure."

Now he’s looking at me with curiosity and a smirk on his handsome features. He also appears to be a man who’s been fucked well. His mop of curls in disarray, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face and body, making him look incredibly sexy. I feel my dick coming to life again at the sight.

I look at him. "What?"

He narrows his cobalt eyes and tilts his head to the side. "There’s somethin different about you. You’ve changed."

"Whadaya mean?"

"I remember the last time we were together. You were more..."

"Naive?" I offer.

"Yeah, and maybe a little apprehensive."

I shrug. "Maybe."

"What happened to you?"

I give him a strange look. "Whadaya mean, what happened to me?"

"The guy I knew six years ago would never have done those things to me; making me beg for it. I know you said you were getting back at me for manipulating you, but this was some next level shit. I mean, you made me come so hard I thought I was gonna pass out."
I shrug again, smiling. "I don’t know. Guess a guy can learn a few things in six years."

That wasn’t true. I hadn’t learned shit in six years, and besides, who would I have learned it from? It was all me, and I’m not sure who I was. It seemed like I suddenly became a different person. Someone who I barely recognized, but the thing was, that person didn’t frighten me; he excited me.

His eyes studied me again. "Have you been with any other men since me?"

He’s trying to find out if someone taught me that. "No. Have you?"

He smiles, reminiscing. "Yeah, there was one guy."

He glances at me to see my reaction, but I don’t give him one. I already knew he probably had. This guy was too hot to not have another man want him, but I still wasn’t sure if he was gay or not.

Starsky continued. "He just happened to be blond," he says, snorting. "I guess he was a substitute for you. I dunno."

"How soon after were you with him?"

"About three years. I met him in a bar. He was checking me out, and I gave him the eye, then he came over."

This sounds like a gay bar. "Starsky, was it a gay bar? Are you gay?"

I remember asking him this six years ago, and he asked me, "Does it matter? At that time, I don’t think it did. I mean, I was only supposed to be with this guy for one night, and I wanted him bad. I know this is my third time having sex with a man, but that doesn’t make me gay, does it? Does his being gay make me gay? I wait pensively for him to give me an answer.

He looks at me with a smug expression. "You asked me that six years ago, and I asked you, does it matter?"

"Cut the bullshit! I yelled, suddenly tired of his non-committal attitude. "Are you gay or aren’t you?"

He looks away, contemplating his response, then locks his eyes with mine. "I don’t know."

I roll my eyes. "What do you mean you don’t know? You fuck guys, and you just admitted to hanging out in a gay bar."

"I didn’t say that, and you’ve fucked guys too."

He still wasn’t giving me a straight answer, and I was tired of it. I get up off the couch, and his eyes widen. "Where ya goin?"

"Anywhere but here," I say, picking up my clothes. He grabs my hand. "No, don’t go. What do you want me to say?"

I turn to him. "I want you to be fucking honest with me!"

"I am being honest with you. I really don’t know."

I narrow my eyes and continue to get dressed.

"Please sit down and let me try to explain." He still has a firm hold on my arm. After looking into his pleading eyes, I drop my clothes and sit back on the couch, turning toward him. "Okay. I’m listening," I tell him.

He sighs, putting his elbows on his knees with a pensive expression.

"It was a gay bar, but it was my first time in there. I dunno. I guess the urge to be with you again became too strong."

"Why didn’t you try to contact me then?"

"Like I said, I didn’t think you would want me to."

"So you hooked up with my lookalike?" I say, smirking.

"Guess so." He shrugs.

"Was that the only man you’d been with since me?"

"Yeah. I was with women the rest of the time."

He did tell me that he was bisexual, and I said I was too. At the time, I wasn’t really sure if that’s what I would call myself. I wasn't really sure if that's what I would call myself. I’ve had sex with women and men, and isn’t that the definition of being bisexual? To be able to love, or in our case, fuck, two different sexes.

I guess he could see the confusion on my face, so he continued to try and explain. "Look, I’ve always been attracted to women my whole life. Some people have called me a lady’s man, a womanizer, but when I was in the army, I got a taste of what it was like to be with a man, and I liked it a lot."

He looks at me to gauge my reaction, and I need to know more. "So you had sex with men when you were there?"

"I sucked, fucked, and had a few fuck me." After seeing the look of shock on my face, he continued, "It was no big deal. All the guys did it. It was something to do to escape all the horror we were experiencing there. None of us considered each other gay. It was just what we did."

Wow, it was no big deal. I can’t imagine that. Doing all that with men and thinking nothing of it. Not thinking that you were gay. I look at him like I’m looking at someone I've never met before.

He sees the look. "Is that shocking or disgusting to you?"

"No. I’m just trying to understand it."

"It’s basically the same thing you did."

I blink at him.

"You never thought of yourself as gay, yet you fucked men three times in your life, including me, so why did you do that when you knew you weren’t gay?"

I had to think about that. The only thing I could come up with was that I just wanted to…I wanted them. I wanted them so bad that nothing else mattered.

"B-because I wanted to. I really wanted to," I admit shyly.

"And I really wanted to suck and fuck those guys. It filled a need at that time. There’s no need to label it. There’s no need to label us. It was what it was, and this is what it is. You don’t have to make it so complicated."

Christ, he makes it sound so simple. He still has that attitude that drew me to him when we first met. That carefree, "it’s all good" attitude that I really admire.

After straightening out the blanket, Starsky stands surveying what he did with his arms akimbo. “Well, that’s looks good,” he says, glancing at me.

I smile at him and try not to look nervous. He comes over and stands in front of me cupping the side of my face. “You still good with this?”

All I can do is smile and nod.

“Good,” he says, and gives me a quick peck on my lips, then takes my hand and leads me to the blanket. I kneel down, then sit on my hip and he sits on his heels in front of me. “Have you done this before?”

I shake my head. Apparently, I’ve lost the power of speech, and swallow hard.

“No sweat. I have and I know you’re gonna love it. Lay down on your back.”

"Hey, ya hungry?" Starsky asks, getting up from the couch.

I see him wince and grunt as he pads naked into the kitchen.

"You okay?" I ask, a bit concerned.

"Yeah, just a little sore from being fucked good," he says, looking back with that adorable, crooked grin.

I snort, then watch him. There’s no self-consciousness in this gorgeous man. My first instinct is to at least put on my underwear, but I decide not to and follow his lead. I pad to the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks at the sight of him bending down to search inside his fridge. That ass all exposed, with a glimpse of ball sac showing between his thighs. God, it was all I could do not to take him again, right on his kitchen counter.

I’m suddenly feeling very exposed. I was never one for parading around naked, so I sit at the counter on one of his stools.

He pulls out a pan wrapped in aluminum foil and places it on the counter in front of me. "I got some left-over lasagna. Ma brought it over when she came to visit a few days ago. It’s still good if you don’t mind eatin left-overs."

I shake my head. "No, I don’t mind at all."

He shoves the pan into the oven and turns it on. "It should be ready in about thirty minutes." Then he leans down on the counter with his chin on his hand, smiling at me.

"Great." He’s staring at me again, and it’s making me very uncomfortable. "So," I begin, trying to distract him. "Where does your mother live?"

"Ma? She lives in New York."

"City or the state?"

"City. Brooklyn. I was born and raised there."

"What made you come to California?"

"After my dad died, I was gettin into trouble in the neighborhood, so she shipped off to live out here with my aunt and uncle."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Yeah, a younger brother, Nicky. He’s still in New York with Ma. What about you? Where you from?"

"Duluth, Minnesota."

"So you’re from the Mid-West? Explains a lot."

"What?"

"Nothin. What brought you to Cali?"

"I needed to get away and make a change."

"What about your family? You got siblings?"

"Yeah, an older sister."

"Are both your parents livin?"

"Yeah."

He looks at me curiously. "Don’t like talkin about your family, huh?"

"There’s just not much to say about em."

"What were you like as a kid?" he asks.

"Shy. My parents made me play sports to overcome it."

"What sports?"

"Baseball, basketball, and wrestling."

"Wrestling, huh? Were you any good at it?"

"I won a couple of medals in college."

"That wrestling stuff could come in handy, if ya know what I mean," Starsky says, waggling his eyebrows.

I snickered, shaking my head. "What about you? Any sports?"

"Yeah, baseball, basketball, and football."

"Football?" I ask, a bit astounded.

He gives me a knowing smile. "Ya think I’m too small for football, huh?"

"Oh, I didn’t mean it like that," I say, embarrassed.

"It’s okay. I was in high school. Ma thought the same thing, as well as the coach, but I tried out anyway and surprised them all."

"Really, that’s great."

"I wasn’t big, but I was quick and agile. I was good at dodging and could outrun a lot of ‘em."

Suddenly, the aroma of lasagna fills the apartment. "Oh, I think it’s ready." Starsky grabs two oven mitts, carefully removes the pan from the oven, and quickly puts it on the counter.

"You better be careful. You don’t want to burn anything important," I say, chuckling.

He throws the mitts on the counter and tears off the foil. "No need to worry about that. Let’s eat; I’m starved." He takes a spatula from a drawer and shoves it into the lasagna.

"Hey, ya wanna a beer?"

He leaves the counter, and once again, I get a nice view of that behind as he reaches into the fridge. I almost want to keep asking for him to fetch things from the fridge all night, just so I can keep getting this view.

Starsky brings back two bottles of beer, pops open the caps with a bottle opener, and puts them on the counter. He scoops out a large portion of lasagna and puts it on my plate. After scooping up a big hunk for himself, he digs in and remains standing.

I don’t dig in right away because I’m observing him eat. He really enjoys his food and devours it with passion.

He looks up from his plate and sees me watching him. "Aren’t you hungry? It’s really good. Ma’s a good cook," he says, wiping sauce off his mouth with a paper napkin.

I pull my eyes away from him to look at my plate. It does look good, so I dig in, putting a big forkful into my mouth. After savoring the taste, I say, "Mmm, it’s delicious."

"I told ya," he grins, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
Again, I’m mesmerized by him eating. I watch his tongue slide along his bottom lip, licking tomato sauce away.

He feels my eyes on him again, and he looks at me. "Whadaya keep starin at me?"

"Sorry," I say, immediately embarrassed, putting my attention back on my plate. I keep my eyes on my food, avoiding further eye contact, until I notice he’s stopped eating. I look up from my plate to find him staring at me. "Now you’re doing it." I smile, blushing.

"I can’t help it. You’re such a beautiful man," Starsky says, resting his chin on his hand with his pinky in his mouth.

"Well, that’s why I can’t stop staring at ‘you’." I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach as I admit that.

I watch as he leans closer to me until we’re nose to nose. We hold this position, gazing into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity, until he touches his lips to mine.

He kissed me. He kissed me before, but it wasn’t mutual. It was forced and not welcomed, but this time it’s different. This was loving and sweet. I’ve never kissed a man before. It was only about sex. I’ve always thought of kissing as more intimate than sex. I associated kissing with love, or at least having a strong emotional connection with someone. I mean, hookers don’t even kiss their johns for that same reason, but now I’m being kissed by someone who I thought was only with me for the sex. Does this change things? Has what we had now changed into something more? Does he want something more? Does it mean he’s falling for me? I enjoyed the kiss, but what does that mean? Am I falling for him too?

The kiss was tentative, and when it ended, Starsky was looking at me as if to gauge my reaction. It was startling, and I know it showed on my face.

"Did you like that?" he finally asks.

I think about it. Yes, I did like it, but I’m afraid of what it means. I decided to just answer him honestly.

"Yes, I did, but..."

He puts his finger over my mouth. "Don’t. Don’t think, just do."

He moves in to kiss me again, and this time I don’t think; I just do. I grasp the back of his head, deepening the kiss. As the kiss becomes more passionate, he crawls up on the counter without breaking contact. I drag him over it, and he lands on his feet in my arms. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I suck it, like it’s a tiny wet cock. Soon we’re moaning and panting as our hands roam over our naked bodies, not knowing where to land. I grab a handful of his ass, and he thrusts into my groin, causing our dicks to make wonderful friction.

"I want you so fucking bad," he says in my ear. Then I feel his hands move to my ass, gripping it hard and making me moan. His fingers slip into my butt crack, spreading my cheeks and exposing my butt-hole. "I want to be inside you...inside here," he whispers, circling my anus with his finger and pushing the tip inside.

"Stop!" I yelled, pulling away from him.

He’s blinking at me, with his mouth hanging open and his dick bobbing.

As soon as I saw the look on his face, I regretted my actions, but I panicked. I’d never had anything pushed inside my ass. I’d never even taken an enema, so him suddenly doing that freaked me out.

"I'm sorry," I say, lowering my eyes, not wanting to see that look of shock on his face anymore. "I guess you startled me."

I sense him coming near me, and I look up. He’s standing in front of me and reaching out to grasp my hands. "No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous, but the urge to get in that beautiful ass of yours was too strong, and I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry."

He finishes his apology with a tender kiss on my lips, which I reciprocate eagerly.

So, we’re doing this now. We’re kissing. All the time. I still don’t really understand what’s happening. Do fuck buddies kiss like this? I thought they just fucked. I decided to go with it, and like he said, don’t think, just do. So apparently we’re kissing, and I’m liking it...a lot.

Once we break the kiss, I look into his sorrowful, deep blue eyes. I know I need to be honest with him about this. "Starsky, I’ve never had anyone fuck me. I’ve never had anything pushed into my ass, not even an enema nozzle. I’m dreading the day I turn fifty and have to get a proctology exam."

I watch as he steps away from me, turning his back. Suddenly, I panic. Have I pushed him away or disappointed him, and now he’s done with me? I continue to watch him, wondering what he’s thinking. After a few more seconds of him racking his fingers through his curls, I need to ask, "Whadaya thinkin? Are you upset with me? Please tell me." I slowly move near him, but I don’t get too close.

He turns around and sighs. "No, not at all. I understand, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you...ever. I’d make love to you—beautiful, sweet, gentle, love."

His eyes are full of tears, and I feel like I’ve disappointed him. "I didn’t think you’d hurt me...on purpose, but I do know it hurts—the first time anyway."

I realize I sound like the biggest wimp on the planet right now, so it’s my turn to turn away. I sigh and rub the back of my neck, then face him again.

"Starsky... I dunno. I hate to sound like a wuss, but it’s been something I’ve always worried about, and at the same time, I’m also kinda curious. I know you and that other guy seemed to enjoy it, but I always felt like it was something I could never do. Having something pushed inside my ass just seems really strange as well as very painful. Does it really feel good?"

He moves closer to me again. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes, I do."

He leads me back to the counter, and I sit on a stool. The hard wood is cold beneath my naked buttocks, but soon I get comfortable and settle in to listen. He sits on the stool next to me, and we face each other. Then he begins, "Yeah, it feels really good. I mean, really fucking good. The feeling of having someone inside you—to experience a physical as well as emotional connection with another human being is the best feeling in the world."

I’m listening to him intensely. He makes having a cock in your ass sound so wonderful. To him, it’s not just the act of being penetrated; it’s the connection that appeals to him. I would never have thought he felt this way. Six years ago, it seemed like he just loved to be fucked for the sake of fucking. This man is more sensitive and deeper than I thought.

"What was your first time like? Was it as wonderful as you just described?"

"My first time," he begins thinking for a minute. "Well, to be honest with you, no, it wasn’t. It happened when I was in the army, and this guy told me he wanted to fuck me. He just walked up to me and said that. At first, I panicked and was about to tell him no, but after he rimmed me, I was so fucking horny and high. Oh, I forgot to mention that we had smoked a lot of weed beforehand. Anyway, I was so horny and high, I didn’t care."

"Did it hurt?"

"Oh yeah. It felt like a large wooden pole was being shoved into my ass and ripping me open. It burned like hell, and when he pushed all the way in, I had to cry out."

Jesus! Why the hell is he telling me this? His first time sounds horrible. Why would he think that after hearing this, I would want to have anything to do with being fucked? My eyes widen in horror, and he looks at me smiling.

"Why are you smiling? Your first time sounds horrible. This isn’t making me want to be fucked at all."

"I’m smiling because I knew you’d think that, but ya know what?"

"What?"

"That guy didn’t give a fuck about me. He just wanted a piece of ass. He didn’t try to be gentle; he just pushed me down and shoved his big cock up my ass. He didn’t care if I screamed my head off; he just kept pounding into me. I think if I hadn’t been willing, he would have fucked me anyway."

"Oh my God. You think he would have raped you?" I ask, astonished.

"Yeah. I’m pretty sure he would have, but I guess I made it easy for him." He gives me a crooked smile and shrugs.

"Starsky, that was awful, but I don’t understand. If your first time was like that, why did you ever want to do it again?"

"I didn’t. I didn’t want any part of anyone or anything in my ass ever again. I felt like you, until..."

"Until what?"

"Until this other guy came along. He was in my barracks. One day, when we were showering, I noticed him watching me soap myself up. Then he started soaping himself, and soon we were jerking off while we watched each other. Afterwards, we dried off, got dressed, and that was that."

"That was all?"

"Yeah, until I woke up in the middle of the night with him standing over me completely naked."

"Where were the other guys in your barracks? Weren’t they there?"

"Yeah, but he didn’t seem to care. He stood there stroking himself, then he put the head to my lips, and I sucked him off. He stopped me before he came and whispered that he wanted to fuck me."

"After what happened to you, did you let him?"

"No, not at first. I told him that I didn’t want him to, and instead of forcing himself on me or getting angry, he climbed on my cot and laid next to me. We lay together in the dark until he asked me why I didn’t want him to. I told him what happened, and he felt sorry for me. He said that shouldn’t have happened, especially with my first time."

I’m completely absorbed in his story. "Then what happened?"

"Well, he started making me feel really good. He pushed his hand inside my underwear and massaged my dick. He kept telling me that he would make it good for me this time. I was still really apprehensive, but he was so convincing, and for some reason I felt I could trust him not to hurt me. So I let him roll me onto my stomach and pull down my underwear. I looked back, and he was screwing open a small tube he had hidden in his fist. He squeezed a dollop of the cream on his fingers, then placed the tube on the floor. He told me it was lube, then he slowly pushed one finger inside me and paused before adding another."

"That other bastard didn’t use any lube, did he?"

"No, he didn’t. He fucked me dry. That’s why it hurt so fucking much. Anyway, he continued to prepare me nice and slow, and it felt terrific. I didn’t know having anything in my ass could feel so good. He leaned down and whispered in my ear that he was going to enter me. He told me he was going to do it really slowly and to tell him if it hurt. I moaned my yes, then I felt his fingers being replaced with the head of his dick and pressing against my hole. I immediately tensed up, and he stopped, but continued to whisper soothing words in my ear, which relaxed me. He kept telling me to relax my sphincter, meaning to open my anus for him, so it wouldn’t hurt much, so I did my best. He eased into me, and I felt that familiar burn, but it wasn’t as bad. He’d wait for me to adjust to him before pushing in more, telling me to breathe.

Before I knew it, he had sunk all the way inside me. He stayed still until I said I was ready, but it felt really weird, so I told him to move. He started slowly thrusting, and this guy had so much patience. I knew he wanted to move faster, but he was thinking about me the whole time. After a while, that motion was feeling pretty good, so I wanted him to thrust quicker, and he did. Suddenly, I felt a jolt of... it’s hard to describe... like a lightning bolt of pleasure course through my whole body, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Every time he’d thrust hard and deep, I felt it."

"Was he hitting your prostate?" I ask eagerly.

He looks at me with bright, amused eyes. "You know about that?"

"Yeah. After I fucked that first guy, he had this extreme reaction every time I thrust into him. Later, he told me that I was hitting his prostate. He said it was an incredible feeling, so I looked it up to find out more about it. Did I hit yours when I was screwing you?"

"Oh yeah. You don’t remember my reaction?"

"I do," I say, blushing. "Is this why gay men like to be fucked?"

"Well, yeah, that’s definitely the main reason."

"So what happened next with the guy?"

"He continued to pound me into the cot until I came, and I came hard. I had to muffle my scream into the pillow. Do you know how difficult it is to try and keep quiet so no one will hear you when you’re having a mind-blowing orgasm?"

I’m sure this is a rhetorical question, so I don’t respond, but I needed to ask, "Did he come inside you?"

"I dunno. I really wasn’t paying attention, but my back did feel wet, so I guess the answer is no. He probably pulled out and came on it." He thought for a minute, then asked, "Where was I?"

"You said you had a mind-blowing orgasm."

"Right. I never came that hard with a woman. Afterwards, he thanked me, climbed onto his own cot, and went to sleep. I was left with sticky cum on my back and ass. I was lying in my own cum on the blanket, so I jumped up and took a quick shower. When I got back, I ripped all the bedding off, laid on the bare mattress, and went to sleep."

"Wow, that’s some story."

"Yeah, and do you know why I told it to you?" he asks, grasping my hand and bringing it to his lips for a tiny kiss.

"Because you want to let me know how good it would be if you fucked me?"

"Yes, but I wouldn’t be fucking you."

I give him a confused look.

He smiles, then says, "I’d be making love to you. It doesn’t have to hurt if the person is gentle and caring. That’s very important. He needs to make it feel good." Starsky caresses the side of my face. "And that’s the way it’ll be with me, babe."

He called me "babe"—nice. And he shared that amazing story and made being banged sound really good. And the prostate. I think I’d really like to experience that, but I still wasn’t ready.

Starsky watched me for a minute, seeing my trepidation. "But I don’t need to make love to you that way. I want to, but I don’t "need" to. Got it?" He waited for me to nod before continuing, "And you said you were curious about it, so when you’re ready to explore that curiosity, just let me know, okay?"

When I nod again and smile at him, he brings me to my feet and gives me another kiss. I hold the sides of his face and kiss him deeply. As we continue to kiss, both our cocks come to full attention. We stop and take a step back. I look down at his hard-on, and he looks down at mine.

"I have an idea," he says, smiling with a wicked glint in his eye.

"What is it?" I ask, feeling excitement grow in my gut.

"Do you know what doing a sixty-nine means?"

My eyes widen. Yes, I knew what it meant, but I’ve never done it. I’ve seen porn where a man and a woman did it, but not two men.

"Yes, I do." I give him a wicked smile of my own. "Do you want us to do it?"

"Yeah. Are you game?"

I had to admit that the thought of doing it was exciting and arousing. "I am."

"Terrific," he says, then goes about preparing the area. I watch as he pushes his coffee table out of the way, leaving a large space in the center of his living room. Then he pulls the blanket off the back of his couch and lays it out on the floor. The whole time, he didn’t lose his erection, so his dick was bobbing and swaying with every move he made. I look down at mine, and I’m still hard also.

I take a deep breath, stretch out my legs, and lay back. His eyes roam over my naked body, and my breathing quickens from the scrutiny as well as the look in his eye. I can feel my dick lurch, and he stares at it like it’s a meal he wants to devour. He actually licks his lips.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he says. "I’m gonna suck that cock like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, then I’m gonna eat out that ass of yours until you’re coming so hard you’ll feel like you’re gonna pass out."

Oh my God. What he’s saying he’s gonna do to me is making me even harder, and I know if he keeps it up, I’m gonna come before we get started.

"You keep talkin like that, and I’m gonna come before we do anything."

"Well, we don’t want that, do we? We want this to last as long as possible."

He tells me to lie still, and then I think of something. "Starsky?"

"Yeah," he answers as he’s crawling into position.

"Um… we’re gonna do a sixty-nine, and you’re gonna…um eat me out, so don’t you think we should shower first?"

I feel a little dumb bringing this up. I don’t know if he was used to doing it without cleaning himself first, but the way I see it, it’ll be a lot more hygienic.

Starsky sits back on his haunches and looks at me, a small smile appearing on his face. "Ya know, you’re absolutely right."

I want to ask if he’s done it without taking a shower before, but the fact that he didn’t suggest it already tells me the answer. I’m about to enter the bathroom when I stop and look back at him.

"Ya wanna join me?"

He grins broadly and pops up. "Thought you’d never ask."

When he gets close to me, I grasp his hand, and we pad into the bathroom together.

I can’t say that we didn’t fool around in the shower, because that would be a lie. We cleaned each other, covering every crack and crevice. Our hard-ons had softened before the shower, but by the time we were done, both of us were sporting massive erections again, so he knelt down and took mine in hand.

"Are we gonna come now? What about the sixty-nine?" I ask.

He looks up at me with arousal in his dark blue eyes. "No need to worry. We’ll be gettin em up again with no problem." He winks, then quickly sucks me off, and I come in a matter of seconds.

Now it was my turn. I kneel before him, taking his cock into my mouth, and blow him until he comes on the shower floor. I gotta tell ya, I am spent and wonder how the hell am I gonna get through a sixty-nine. But Starsky’s still full of energy, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the stall and back into the living room.

"Now we’re both nice and clean," he states. "So let’s get this show on the road. Lay back down," he orders, and I obey.

Once I’m down, he straddles my head with his balls dangling above my face. He leans forward on his elbows, so his face hovers over my cock and balls. I’m anxious and really turned on. I look down at myself, and my dick is already rising again, lying on my belly. Little Ken is so insatiable. We stay in this position for a moment, and then, through his thighs, I see his head dip down and lap at my balls. He sucks them into his mouth, and I gasp from the glorious sensation. His mouth releases my sac and pays some attention to my now hard cock. While holding the base with one hand, he pumps my shaft with the other.

Jesus. It’s so good, and I shut my eyes, making the sensation more intense. When I hear him groaning loudly around a mouth full of my dick, I open them. He wiggles his ass over my face, his balls swaying enticingly. It’s apparent that this is a signal for me to give him some attention too, so I do it immediately. I start licking the underside of his balls, then move to his perineum. I remember he couldn’t take much simulation here, so I don’t do it for long, just until he moans louder and starts to buck. I reach for his stiff rod and guide it to my mouth. I lick and suck the bulbous head, paying close attention to the tiny slit, and draw out some pre-cum. I take more of him into my mouth, holding onto his hips as I move up and down his shaft. When he starts humping my face, I grip his hips harder to prevent him from pushing in too deeply.

While I’m pleasuring him, he’s deep throating me and squeezing my balls, sending waves of pleasure through my body and down to my toes. I remember six years ago how good it felt when he went down on me, and he’s still a really good cocksucker—maybe even better now. I was doing my best to match him, even though I hadn’t sucked cock since his and I was out of practice.

God, he’s sucking the shit out of me, and I’m doing the same to him. The dual sensations of giving and taking pleasure are making me crazy. It’s like we’re a weird human see-saw, with our heads bobbing up and down on each other. My toes curl as he continues to suck and fondle me. I draw up my knees and spread my thighs to give him more access. At the same time, I was spreading his cheeks with my thumbs and dipping my tongue inside the tiny, puckered hole.

Suddenly, Starsky gets off me, and I lift my head to see why. I watch as he turns around, crawls toward my feet, and kneels between my legs. He puts his hands under my ass to raise my hips. I think I know what he’s about to do. I assist by gripping my knees to keep my legs up and open. Now my butthole is exposed and on full display. I’m feeling really vulnerable and a little embarrassed in this position, but I lay still and wait for him to begin his feast.

He raises his head to look at me, with a grin. "You ready."

I nod and give him a small smile.

His grin disappears, and his sapphire eyes become serious.
"Blondie, I’m not gonna do anything that you don’t want, okay?"

I grin. "Okay, Curly," I say, laying my head back down and feeling a bit more relaxed.

Soon, I feel warm wetness slide over my hole. It feels weird and wonderful at the same time. He lingers at my perineum, and I know it’s a sensitive area. I remember his reaction, and I wonder if it’ll be the same for me. All of a sudden, my hips jerked up from the unexpected spark of pleasure. I see him smile wickedly, then move back to my anus, swirling his tongue around the rim. I feel the wet, soft tip push inside me, and I tense at the unfamiliar invasion.

He knows it and looks up. "Do you want me to stop?"

I thought about it for a second. It didn’t feel so bad, so I nodded, and he continued to slide his tongue deeper into my tight hole.

"Open for me," he says, and I try to obey. I concentrate on relaxing my sphincter to give his tongue more access. I feel it slide deeper and deeper into me, then he pulls it out.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Keep goin," I say, my breathing becoming shallow. I feel his tongue sinking into my ass again, and then he twists it inside the narrow canal. When he pulls out again and goes back to licking my perineum. It’s exquisite torture. Soon, I can’t take anymore. Just as I’m about to tell him, he stops and returns to my ass. This time, I feel his finger rubbing my opening.

Again, I tense up, thinking that he’s gonna to push it in. He stops to look at me again. "I know how you feel about this babe, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t, but I need you to know that I can make it real good for you— you'll have to trust me."

I’m looking at him. I haven’t known this gorgeous man for very long. We had one night six years ago, and now we have tonight. It’s hard to believe all the things we’ve done in a few hours, and now he wants to take me to an unfamiliar, uncomfortable place. I know I’ll need to trust him, and for some reason I do. I see the sincerity and honesty in his beautiful cobalt eyes. I also see that I should never fear that he’ll ever hurt me. That I’ll be safe and protected whenever I’m with him.

"I trust you, Starsk."

"Starsk, I like the sound of that. Alright, I’m gonna stick my finger inside you, and if you feel any pain or discomfort, let me know. Just open up for me like you did with my tongue, okay?"

As he’s about to begin, Starsky suddenly jumps up and yells, "Shit!"
"What’s wrong?" I ask, leaning up on my elbows.

"I almost forgot the most important thing," he says, jogging into his bedroom. He returns with a tube, and he gets down on his knees and squeezes a large amount on the tip of his finger. "Okay, I’m gonna insert it now." He holds up his index finger to show it to me. "Lemme know if it hurts. I’m gonna go real slow."

I still can’t believe I’m actually going to let him do this, but I trust this man to take me places I’ve never been and experience things I’ve never experienced. I lift my legs higher to signal that he can continue, so he gradually and gently pushes the tip of his well-lubed finger to the first knuckle. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I’m gonna to keep goin to the second knuckle."

He pushes in more, and I can feel my rectum cramping down on his finger, so he stops. "Come on, babe. Stay open for me," he commands.

I take a breath, relax, and open up. His finger moves deeper inside me, and I’m not feeling any pain. It feels really weird, like I need to take a shit, but it’s not hurting.

You good?" he asks.

"I’m good."

"Do you want me to go all the way in?"

"Yes."

His whole finger is inside me now, and there's still no pain. He doesn’t move. "Do you want me to pull out or thrust a little?"

"I think you can thrust a little," I say, a bit unsure.

"Okay. I’ll go slow. Let me know if you want me to stop or go faster."

"Okay."

Starsky begins to gently thrust his finger into my narrow canal. I close my eyes to feel the sensation and to see if it hurts, and it doesn’t—it feels good. I’m arching and pressing the back of my head against the floor.

"Faster," I tell him, not knowing if I’ve said it out loud or in my mind, but I feel him thrusting faster, so I know he’s heard me. I buck up to meet his finger, moaning loudly.

"Doin okay?" he asks, and I moan my answer.

"Think ya can take another one?"

Another finger... I didn’t know, but at this point I didn’t really care. One is feeling so good, so wouldn’t two feel even better?

"Mmm, hmm." Was all I could manage.

He pulls his finger out, and the absence is profound. Moments before, I was a guy who didn’t want anything in his ass, and now I’m mourning the loss of a finger, but soon my mourning will end. I lift my head to see him coating two of his fingers with lube. After seeing them, I’m wondering if this is a good idea. His fingers look really big all of a sudden. I watch as he positions them at my opening, then looks at me.
"You ready?"

I nodded and shut my eyes. I feel the tips of both fingers slide inside me, and when they breech my sphincter, there’s a sharp pain, and I grunt. Immediately, he stops. "Is this hurting you? I’ll stop."

Before he could remove his fingers, I grabbed his hand. "No. Don’t stop. I’m… I’m okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. P-please keep goin."

Starsky gradually pushes both fingers inside to the second knuckle, then pauses for me to acclimate to them. "Do you want me to keep goin?"

I nod and brace myself, feeling his fingers sink deeper inside. Again, he waits, but I need him to move. "Don’t stop...please."

My dark-haired lover thrusts his fingers leisurely, but it’s too slow. "Faster. Do it faster."

He obeys me, and I begin to lift my hips, matching the pace. I keep my eyes closed, feeling every sensation, and then I feel his hand on my abandoned cock. My eyes pop open, and I watch him stroke my dick while he’s thrusting his fingers into me. Oh God! What is this man doin to me? I can no longer control my body. His fingers and hand are in total control of me. I’m writhing and thrashing now. I hear inaudible sounds filling the room—sounds that I don’t think I’ve ever made in my life. I need to call out to him. Call his name.

"Starsky! God! Starsk!" I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I can feel myself coming. It feels like someone has lit a fire that starts in my feet and is slowly spreading all the way up my body and moving through my torso, making my spine shiver. Without warning, I explode with a guttural scream. I lift my head to see my cum erupting like a volcano and Starsky engulfing my cock to catch it all in his mouth. As my spasms begin to end, I watch him consume the last of my cum and lick his lips.

My legs feel like lead, so I let them drop to the floor. The only movement my body can make is the rise and fall of my heaving chest. I keep my eyes closed until I sense I’m being observed. When I open them, sapphire ones are watching me, grinning broadly.

"You still with me?" he asks.

"Yeah, but barely." I grin and manage to raise my hand to the side of his face. "I can’t believe how amazing that was. How good you made it for me." I feel tears well up in my eyes, with one escaping to run down my cheek. I’m embarrassed by this blatant show of vulnerability, but I can’t help it. This man has brought me to tears.

He stretches out next to me with his head propped up on his hand and looking into my face. "I told ya I’d make it good for you," he said, wiping away the errant tear with his thumb.

"I think you hit my prostate cause I thought the top of my head was gonna blow off," I tell him, chuckling.

"Yeah, pretty terrific, huh?"

After gazing into his bright blue eyes, I reply, "No, you’re pretty terrific." I roll on top of him and kiss him hard. I feel him beneath me, and he’s erect. When I roll off, his cock is weeping and in need of release.

"Starsk, lemme take care of that." Before he has the chance to protest, my mouth and hand take care of it, and soon he’s coming hard, spewing his load into my mouth. I swallowed every bit, then lay back down beside him.

We lay in the afterglow, with Starsky on his side, sliding his hand over my chest. "Your chest is so smooth, like a baby’s bottom. I love the way it feels under my hand."

I’ve always been a little self-conscious about not having chest hair, so it makes me smile that he likes it. My hand leisurely moves across his hip and over a meaty buttock. After a while, I can’t keep my eyes open, so I shut them, feeling myself drift off to sleep.

S&H

I smell coffee. My eyes slowly open, and I’m disoriented. I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and look around. When my eyes focus, I find that I’m lying on the floor, with a blanket covering my naked body and a pillow under my head. After a few seconds, it comes to me: I’m in Starsky’s apartment, and we made love. It was incredible. I look toward the kitchen, and I see him with his back turned, wearing a blue robe. When he looks back and sees I’m awake, he pads over to me.

"Good mornin. I’m makin coffee; ya want a cup?"

He’s looking down at me with that cute, crooked smile, and his hands are in the pockets of the robe. It’s opened to his navel, revealing his furry chest, defined pecs, and washboard abs. His curls are wet from his shower, and he’s lookin sexy as hell. I wonder if he’s naked underneath, and I have to find out. "C’mere," I say, crooking my finger.

Starsky walks closer to me, and I raise up on my knees, undo the belt, and pull it open. Yes, he’s gloriously naked and smells of Irish Spring soap. My eyes rest on his genitals, and immediately I want to take the flaccid cock into my mouth, making it come to life while I cup and fondle his sac. Instead, I decide to slide my hands under the robe and squeeze his buttocks until he moans.
I look up at him and say, "I always start my day with some protein."

While keeping a grip on his ass, I use my mouth to awaken his slumbering member. I swirl my tongue around the head and take it in my mouth, sucking on it like an all-day sucker. I wait for a moment to observe his dick rising, as if being lifted by an invisible string. My hands remain on each buttock as my mouth continues to make him more and more erect. When I pause a moment, his cock is bobbing, and I look up at him again. He’s the picture of arousal. His eyes are shut, his head has fallen back, and he’s biting his lower lip. I envelop the entire head again, then move back and forth on the stiff shaft. He’s lightly thrusting, and I can feel the head touch the back of my throat, and I will myself not to gag.

My knees are beginning to complain as I kneel on the hard wood floor covered with a blanket, but I ignore my discomfort to make this man feel good. He’s moaning louder, and I feel his hands on my head, tousling my hair and gently forcing my mouth to move faster. As pleasure courses through his loins, I hear a loud groan, and he’s coming. I remove my hands from his behind and hold onto his cock as his cum coats my tongue.

Once I swallow all he has, I sit back on my heels and look up at him. He’s swaying a bit, so I offer my shoulder for support. When he opens his eyes, he’s looking down at me, blowing out his breath. "Now that’s what I call a good morning—that was terrific, babe. Did you get enough protein?" he asks cheekily.

I get up off the floor and take him in my arms. "Yes, I did, thanks," I reply, and then we kiss deeply as I push the robe off his shoulders. He takes a step back and shrugs it back on, cinching it close.

Starsky sees me blink in confusion. "I’d love to go another round, Blondie, but I've gotta go to work. I have an early meeting with Dobey this morning," he says, walking back to the kitchen.

He leaves me standing in his living room, naked and a bit disappointed. I watch him return with a mug of hot coffee for me and one for himself, then he sits on the couch. Suddenly I’m feeling very exposed, so I place the mug on the table and gather the blanket around me. Afterwards, I grab the mug and sit next to him. We sip our coffee in silence until he turns to me, putting his knee on the couch. I notice his genitals are making another appearance through the opening of the robe, so he pulls it close and gives me a sheepish look.

"So, how’d ya sleep? I hope the floor wasn’t too bad," he says taking a sip.

I do have a bad back, and I’ve been told that a hard, flat surface would be good. I haven’t bothered to buy a firm mattress, but I did find the hardness of the floor comfortable. When I sat up and didn’t feel that usual morning ache in my lower back. "No, it was fine. I think I slept pretty well."

"Good." He takes a sip and then continues, "If I didn’t have that meeting with Dobey, I’d finish what you were about to start." He assures me, giving me a kiss and gently pulling my lower lip with his teeth before breaking contact.
My tongue slides across my lower lip, and I smile at him. I shake my head abruptly, changing the subject. "So, it’s been two weeks since you’ve been transferred to my department. Has Dobey given you an assignment yet?"

"No. He’s had me step in for sick or injured officers. One day he had me walkin a beat, and I hated it. I wanna be out in the field, ya know? Do you have a partner or are you workin alone?"

"I’m alone, and Dobey wants me to have one, but good partners are hard to find. I had one a few months ago, but it didn’t work out."

"Why not?"

"We couldn’t get in sync. We weren’t in tune with each other. I never felt I could trust him to have my back. It just wasn’t working. Good partners need to work well together."

"Kinda like we did last night, huh?" Starsky says, grinning.

When I look at him, I feel my face flush. I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. "I guess we should get ready. I have a call time too." I stand up, bringing the blanket with me. "Is it okay if I take a shower?"

"Sure. There are towels in the cabinet under the sink. Feel free to use my shampoo and conditioner," he says, leaving me and heading into his bedroom.

After being left alone, I started thinking about last night and this morning. I still don’t know what’s really going on here, but I guess I’ll find out in time. I drop the blanket at the door and pad, barefoot, into the bathroom to take a quick shower. When I come out, I’m alone in his apartment. I find my clothes lying neatly on the couch, and he’s pushed the coffee table back in place. It looks like nothing out of the ordinary happened in this space, but a lot has happened. A lot has changed. I’m changed. He’s done this to me. He’s changed me. Now what? What am I supposed to do with this new me? A me—who fucks and sucks men—not men—one man. And I let him finger-fuck me, and I liked it…a lot.

Am I a fucking homosexual now? He says he isn’t. He tells me we don’t need to label ourselves, but that’s what this society does. They label every God damn thing. Do I want people to think I’m gay? Maybe we can keep it a secret. What the fuck am I takin about? Why am I already thinking of myself as a gay man in a relationship? I don’t even know what this is that we have. Is it a relationship? Or are we still just fuck buddies? But the way we kissed, it didn’t feel like that was all we were. I felt something, and I’m sure he did too.

I feel a headache coming on, so I stop my out-of-control thoughts and begin to dress. Glancing at the coffee table, I see a note...

Hey Blondie,

I had to run. Feel free to grab anything from the fridge for breakfast. When you leave, just use the key on the top of the door sill to lock up, then put it back. Last night was a blast. We gotta do it again real soon.

Starsk

I read the note again, and it sounds like we just had a fun roll in the hay. Nothing more. If that’s the case, what’s with all the passionate kissing? I finish dressing, grab the note, and shove it in my pants pocket, then head out.

S&H

When I arrive at the squad room a little late, I hope Dobey’s unaware, but just as I sit at my desk, he comes out of his office.

"I wondered when you were gonna show up. I need to see you in my office right now," the big man demands, disappearing back into his office.

After blowing out a breath, I get up from my desk and go inside. As soon as I step in, I see Starsky occupying one of the chairs in front of Dobey’s desk. He turns around with a big grin on his face.

"Detective Hutchinson, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Detective Dave Starsky."

Starsky rises from his chair to shake my hand, and I shake it mindlessly, with a look of shock on my face. He sits back down, and I’m still standing, staring at him.

"Why are you still standing there, Hutchinson? Sit down."

I glance at Dobey, then look at the chair like I didn’t know it was there, and sit down. I turn to look at the man whose dick I sucked only an hour ago. He’s still grinning at me, and I turn my attention to Dobey.

"Um...Cap’n, did you say he was my new partner?" I ask, giving Starsky a sideways glance.

"That’s right. Detective Starsky is a transfer from the fifth precinct. I’ve been waiting to give him an assignment, and I remembered that I’ve been trying to assign you a partner, so this seems like a good fit." Dobey says, giving Starsky a rare smile and letting it linger for me.

I’m glaring at my new partner, and then I look back at Dobey with doubt.

"He’s been in Homicide over there and has a good record. He comes highly recommended." I’m sure he’s telling me this to impede my doubt, but it’s not working.

"Well, I don’t need a partner," I say in a bitter tone, and stand up to leave.

"Officer Hutchinson, I have not dismissed you. Sit down!"

When I look down at Starsky, he’s looking up at me with wide eyes. I sit back down and stare straight ahead.

"Look, you need a partner, and Detective Starsky is it. I’ll give you both your assignments in a few hours. Dismissed," Dobey states, going back to his paperwork.

I get up and storm out of the office. I pace a while in the squad room until I see him come out, so I stop and go to sit at my desk. He slowly walks toward me, and after staring at me, he sits down at the desk directly in front of me. I glare at him, then get up from my desk and quickly leave the squad room. I stop at the water fountain to get a drink to try and calm down. When I straighten up, he’s standing there. I move away and hurry down the hall, with him on my heels.

"Wait up! Let’s talk about this!" he shouts at my retreating form.

I stop dead and turn around, with him almost bumping into me.

"There is nothing to talk about." You manipulated the situation AGAIN!" I yell, causing everyone in the area to turn and gawk.

"No, I didn’t."

In order to avoid the looks, I grab him by the arm and haul him through the doors at the end of the hall. I find an empty interrogation room and push him inside.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I swear I had nothing to do with this. Dobey called me into his office this morning and told me that he had an officer who needed a partner, and he thought I’d be a good match."

"So you didn’t know I was the officer he was talking about?"

"No. When you came through the door, I was as surprised as you were—the only difference was that I was happy about it."

I looked at him and could see the hurt in his eyes, but I wasn’t happy at all. I didn’t think it was a good idea to be partnered with…your fuck buddy. After seeing his face, I began to calm down a bit.

"Look, Starsky, this isn’t a good idea."

"Why not? You said yourself that good partners work well together and should be in sync. Plus, I think after what you let me do to you last night, I’d say trust is there too."

I rub the back of my neck in frustration. "You’re talkin about our sexual relationship. It has nothing to do with a working partnership."

"But doesn’t any partnership need those things too? It’s not like we’re strangers. We have a leg up on things, or should I say legs up?" He jokes, but I don’t find it funny.

"Stop that! You've gotta stop saying things like that if this is gonna work. Our sex life has to be separate from our work life, got it?"

He looks at me, amused. "Do you know how hot you look when you’re all serious and authoritative?"

"That’s it. There’s no way I’m partnering with you," I say, with my hand on the door.

"Hutch, no!" He grabs my arm, preventing me from opening the door. "I promise I’ll stop sayin stuff like that while we’re workin, okay?"

I frown at him and look into those beautiful, deep blue, pleading eyes. Hutchinson, stop it. I sigh. "Why do I get the feeling that’s not gonna happen?"

"Okay, I can’t promise that won’t happen...occasionally, but I won’t let it get in the way of our work. I promise." He assures me by crossing his fingers, his arms, and his ankles. "

I can’t help but chuckle. This man does make me smile. Not just smile; he makes me happy just being around him—not to mention the amazing sex that makes me feel incredibly good. God knows I could use some happiness in my life. I watch as he teeters on one foot, trying not to lose his balance.

"Would you stop that before you keel over." I say, smiling.

Starsky stands on his two feet, then asks, "So are you okay with us workin together?"

His eyes are so hopeful that I can’t help but agree, so I nod.

"Suddenly he grabs my head and pulls me in for a kiss."

I push him back. "Starsky, did you hear a word I just said?"

"Yeah, but I just thought we should have a quick celebratory kiss."

My eyes look up to the heavens, and when I look at him again, he’s grinning with a twinkle in his blue eyes. I shake my head and say, "Come on. Let’s go back to the squad room and wait for Dobey to give us our assignment." Then I open the door, and we head back.

S&H

I’m sitting on the couch with Starsky at his place. We’re drinking beers and relaxing. Dobey gave us a really strange case involving a guy who dressed in a dog costume and hung around dog parks. A number of women reported that this weirdo harassed them while they were in the park with their dogs. They said he’d crawl up to them on his hands and knees with a leash in his mouth, whimpering and trying to lead them deeper into the park. It would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that he murdered one of them. A girl was found dead with a leash wrapped tightly around her neck and strangled.

"That poor girl," Starsky says. "I can’t believe she followed that freak into the park."

"Her parents said that she had mild mental retardation, so she probably didn’t think she was in any danger."

Starsky shook his head. "Well, we got em off the street after staking out the park, and it didn’t take long to spot him."

"No. I would think a man dressed in a dog costume would be pretty noticeable," I recall, unable to suppress a smile even though the case was no laughing matter.

"And when I was arresting him, he wouldn’t walk on his two feet, so I had to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him," Starsky states.

"Yeah, whimpering and crying like a dog the whole time. He was a real nut job," I say.

"Yeah, and now he’ll be behind bars for a long time... or should I say in the pound," Starsky says, chuckling at his own joke.

I snort and take a swig from my beer, then lay my head on the back of the couch with my eyes closed. After a while, I feel a hand on my knee that’s slowly traveling up my inner thigh. I open my eyes and see desire in his sapphire ones as his hand reaches its destination on my dick.

"Whoa, hold on," I say, removing his hand.

His eyes widen with shock. "What?"

"Starsky, we need to talk," I tell him, leaning forward on my elbows.

He turns towards me with his knee on the couch. "What is it?"

"What are we doin?" I ask, looking him in the eye.

"Whadaya mean?"

"With us. I need to know... are we just fuck buddies?"

He looks at me, confused. "Hutch, we fucked last night, and you sucked me off this morning—so I guess you can say we’re fuck and suck buddies." He grins, but when he sees that I’m very serious, his expression changes and his brows furrow.

"If we’re only fuck and suck buddies, what’s with all the kissing?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you. You didn’t want me to?" he asks innocently.

I shake my head. "That’s not what I’m getting at. When you kissed me, it felt…passionate."

"So fuck buddies can’t kiss each other passionately?"

I pause, trying to figure out what I’m trying to say. I want to know if there’s more to what we’re doing. When he was kissing me with such passion, did he feel what I was feeling? But what am I feeling? I know the sensation went right to my cock, but I felt more than arousal. It felt like there was a much deeper connection behind those kisses—at least to me anyway.

‘I dunno. I guess I always saw passionate kissing as something special between two people who really care about each other."

"You don’t think I care about you?" he asks, placing his hand on the side of my face.

I shrug.

"Well, I do. I care about you a lot. Why do you think I did all that shit to be close to you again?"

"I thought it was just about sex."

"Well, I’m not gonna lie—sex is a huge part, but not the only part. Hutch, you seem to have all these hang-ups about what should and shouldn’t be. If we’re fuck buddies, what rule says we can’t kiss passionately? It doesn’t have to be like that."

"Then how should it be?"

"It should be about two people showing how much they care for each other in whatever way they see fit."

It’s time to stop beating around the bush and be honest with him. "Starsk, I need to know if the way you’ve been kissing me means..."

"Go ahead, babe; it means what?" he says, putting his hand on my knee.

After sighing, I looked him in the eye. "It means that you have deep affection for me." I say it more like a question than a statement.

Now it’s his turn to sigh. He turns away, and I can see him thinking. It’s making me anxious. Does it mean he doesn’t feel that way? When he looks at me again, he’s smiling.

"Hutch, I think you’re really asking me if I love you."

Oh my God. I can’t believe he just said that. I can’t believe he thinks I think that, but is he right? Is that what I’m asking him? Do I want him to tell me that he loves me? Do I love him? I know that when we kissed, I felt something. Something deep inside.

At first, the kiss surprised me because we hadn’t kissed when we were together six years ago. It was all about the sex that night, so having it happen now feels like our coupling has moved to another level.

I find it difficult to look at him, but when I finally do, I see compassion in the deep blue eyes, and maybe even... I can’t jump to that conclusion right now.

"What are you talking about? We just got back together yesterday. How can I be asking you that?" I chuckle, making his statement sound ridiculous to avoid it all together.

"The amount of time you’re with someone doesn’t have anything to do with the way you feel about them. Ya ever heard of love at first sight?"

Love. He said it. Does that mean he loves me? Has love been part of what we’ve been doing? No, this is all happening way too fast. I look away and want this discussion to end.

"Look, forget it. Kissing is just kissing. It doesn’t mean anything." I get up from the couch, walk into his kitchen, and open the fridge for no good reason. As I stand in front of it, he comes up and shuts it. I don’t want to look at him, but I know I need to. I turn around, and he looks like he wants to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, we stand looking into each other’s eyes, trying to communicate our truth without words, but we need them. We need words.

"Babe, I know you want to talk about this, and so do I. I know you want to know what’s happening between us. You wanna know how I feel about you?" He grasps my hands. "I care about you...a lot. I even think I have deep affection for you, but to be honest, I don’t know if I love you—at least not yet," he says, grasping my hands, and I let him.

I’m disappointed. I wasn’t sure if I loved him, but I was hoping that he’d say he loved me. It would have justified the way he’s been kissing me. It would have justified the way it made me feel. Now I’m even more confused as to what we are to each other.

I think he sees the confusion on my face, so he releases my hands and holds the sides of my face, gazing into my eyes.

"And I need you to know that we’re not just suck and fuck buddies. We’re a lot more than that. We’re buddies who are now partners who happen to suck and fuck. But like I’ve said before, don’t think; just do. Let’s just keep doin what we’ve been doin and see where it takes us." He kisses me, and it goes straight to my cock. When he looks at me again, I feel his hand on my swelling bulge. "Do ya wanna be suck and fuck buddies right now?" he asks, nuzzling my neck while squeezing my dick.

I moan and whisper, "Yes, I do."

S&H

We’ve been partners for close to six years now, and it’s been great. Starsky is a terrific cop, and we seem to be in sync a lot of the time. We’ve got each other’s backs, and most important of all, I trust him with my life, and I know he feels the same way about me. Of course, there have been moments when our sex lives and work lives have merged. It happened once in the Torino while on a stakeout. He got bored, and I let him blow me right there in the front seat. I was terrified someone would see us, but it was thrilling and a real turn-on for the both of us. Another time I got really horny, so I pulled him into the janitorial closet and fucked him. There wasn’t a whole lotta room, but we got the job done. One of the best things about partnering with someone you have sex with is that whenever the mood strikes, he’s right there to tame the beast.

We’re together seventy-five percent of the time, sometimes a hundred percent if you count weekends. You’d think we’d get tired of each other, but we don’t. It’s like he’s the yin to my yang. It feels like we’ve been partners forever. I guess Dobey really did know we’d be a good fit. He’s not only my lover but also my best friend and brothers from another mother.

I’d say we’re in a relationship, but I know he hates labels. I mean, we’re exclusive and not dating anyone else, male or female. Yeah, we still dig chicks, but we just don’t date or have sex with them. They’re just eye candy now. The only man who turns me on and I want to be with is Starsky, and he’s told me that I’m the only man that he wants too.

We’re not calling ourselves gay either. Again, no need to label ourselves, but we are in the closet. It’s not like we don’t want to shout to the world that we are together...in that way, but we don’t want to bring all that shit down on us. Plus, we like our jobs and would like to keep ‘em. Besides, the world doesn’t have to know what we do in the privacy of our own homes, or sometimes in the semi-private supply closet or bathroom stall.

But I digress; we haven’t revisited our love discussion, and there’s really no need to. We know how we feel about each other. And I don’t want to say we’re fucking anymore; I’d prefer to say we’re making love. It sounds better, plus it’s turned into much more than fucking. I’m still not ready to have him fuck... I mean, penetrate me yet. He tells me it’s okay, but I know it’s not. He wants to be inside me, and I get that. It feels so good when I’m in him. I understand what he meant when he said it’s about having a wonderful physical connection with someone, and I want that for him, but I’m still not ready. It’ll be soon, though, and I love that he doesn’t push me. It’ll happen when I’m ready, he says, and if I’m never ready, that’s fine with him too, but I know that won’t be the case.

One night, during pillow talk, we said that if men could marry, we might take a crack at it. It would be nice—I mean, it’s like we're married already anyway. We thought about getting a place together since we were constantly staying at one another’s homes and it would save time and money, but it might have people wondering about us even more than they already do.

Oh yeah, we’ve heard whispers. They think that because we spend so much time together and touch a lot, we must be F-words. I won’t say the word here, but it rhymes with maggots. It doesn’t really bother me, though, because they have no real evidence to back it up. I keep telling Starsky to let the comments roll off his back, but it’s sometimes hard for him, especially if it’s me they’re insulting. He gets real protective as I am with him. One day we were coming out of the restroom together at the station, and a uniform glared at us and asked me if Starsky tasted good. Well, in a split second, the guy was up against the wall, with Starsky’s arm about to crush his windpipe. It took a lot for me to pull him off. The guy threatened to report Starsky, so I threatened him. I told him I’d report that he was in the bathroom with us in a three-way, and that shut him up quick.

S&H

It’s Friday, and we’re at my cottage in Venice. We have the whole weekend off. It’s rare, so we’re going to take full advantage of it. I’m lying on the couch in my boxers, reading my latest novel, and he’s in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to make dinner. He’s not as good a cook as I am, but he makes a mean Hungarian goulash—his mother’s recipe.

I’m trying to concentrate on my book, but he’s being very distracting. He wanted us to have sex before dinner, and I told him I’d prefer it afterwards so, you know, we’d work it off, but my stubborn, sexy partner disagreed. So now he’s in the kitchen wearing nothing but a t-shirt and making sure I was looking every time he leaned inside the fridge, bent to retrieve something from the bottom cabinet, or reached up to a high shelf, where his butt-cheeks would be on full display.

Suddenly, I couldn’t take anymore, so I put down my book and sneaked into the kitchen. I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and nuzzle his neck.

"I see I’ve finally got your attention," he says, putting down the ladle and reaching back to caress the side of my face.

"You’ve had my attention the whole time. I was trying to ignore you, but I didn’t have the strength—that ass of yours is my kryptonite," I say, gripping his bare ass and sliding my hand between his legs to fondle his cock and balls.

"Mmm, then that must mean you’re Superman. Ya gonna fly me to paradise, Blondie?"

I chuckle. "You are so damn corny, mush brain, but yes, I’m gonna take you to Shanghai-La," I say, continuing to gently squeeze his scrotum.

"What...about...my...goulash?" He asks, moaning between each word while gyrating on my hand.

"We can take it off the stove. It’ll keep til we’re done."

I turn off the burner and move the pot to a trivet, then quickly grab some olive oil. I bend him over the kitchen table, glad that we hadn’t set it yet, and push his shirt up his back. I spread his legs, dripped the oil into his crack, and let it slide into the puckered opening. Then I push two fingers deep inside him, and when I know he’s been stretched thoroughly, I slide my boxers down and stroke myself to hardness. After sinking into him, I immediately started pounding his ass, and he was moaning like crazy, gripping the edge of the table.

Over time, I’ve discovered that he likes it hard and fast, so there's no need to do much preparing, but of course I’m always careful when I enter him. I give him the customary reach around and begin to stroke him in time with my thrusts. Soon I feel his rectum clamp down around my cock, and hot semen pours over my hand and on the floor. Seconds later, I’m coming inside him, and when I’m depleted, I collapse on top of him, sated. Moments later, he complains that I’m crushing him, so I get off and lean down on the table. When I have the strength to stand, he’s still lying there, so I smack him on the rump.

"Come on. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s get at that goulash." I pull my boxers up and pad into the kitchen to wash my hands, then put the pot back on the stove to heat up. I turn around and watch him push himself up with a groan.

"You pound me into the table, then expect me to recover this fast?"

"Well, how long do you think it’ll take?" I ask sarcastically, leaning against the counter with my arms folded.

He pushes himself up, bracing on his hands. "At least let me clean myself up. I got semen seepin outta me. Do you really want me to sit on your nice, clean chairs like this?"

"No, I don't—and Starsk, while you’re at it, please put on some pants."

Starsky glances at me. "You’re not wearin pants."

"I’m wearing my underwear, dummy. I’m not bare-assed."

He shrugs and disappears inside the bathroom. While he’s in there, I wipe up the cum off the floor, then start plating the goulash. Soon I heard him come out, and now he’s completely naked. "Starsky, I told you to put some pants on, and now you’re naked. Why did you take off your shirt?" I ask annoyed.

"Cause some of your man juice got on it, so now I’m going to your bedroom to get the clothes I keep here. Is that okay with you?" he asks sarcastically.

I narrow my eyes at him as he disappears inside my bedroom and returns in tiny black briefs. My eyes are on him as he comes to the table and sits down."

"Starsky, you call those pants? Why didn’t you just put on your thong while you were at it?" I ask sardonically.

He rises from the chair, and I quickly push him back down. He makes a face and says, "Anyway, I’m wearin my underwear just like you," he says, scooping up a big spoonful of goulash and shoving it into his mouth. "Why do you wear those big ol' baggy things, anyway?" he asks with his mouth full.

"Well, some of us like to be comfortable," I tell him, taking a spoonful.

He swallows, then looks at me contemplatively.

"What?"

"What if I started wearin em?" he asks, turning the spoon backwards and licking off the sauce.

I snort. "I don’t think so, not with that ass."

"What if I want to be comfortable too?" He cocks his head to the side, smirking.

I can tell he’s not serious. He likes to show off his behind as much as I like to see it. "You’re not comfortable in the briefs?"

Starsky sits back and smiles at me. "Yes, but you seem to have a problem with me wearin em."

"Starsk, I don’t have a problem with you wearing them. I just don’t think it’s appropriate to wear at the table."

"Oh, so you only find certain kinds of underwear acceptable—like your boxers."

I sigh, getting tired of this. "Starsky, fine. Wear the briefs. Now, eat your goulash before it gets cold," I say, annoyed, putting a spoonful of goulash in my mouth and ending the discussion.

He’s studying me again.

I swallowed and put down my spoon. "What now?"

"I didn’t mean to make you angry. It’s just that you have all these rules about what to do and what not to do. I bet you were brought up with a lot of rules, huh?"

"Yes, I did. My parents were very conservative."

"Did you have to dress for dinner like in those old movies?"

He’s looking at me with curiosity, like I’m some odd creature he’s learning about. "Well, I didn’t have to wear a tux if that’s what you mean, but mother wanted you to look nice for dinner."

"You call your mother, mother?"

"Yeah. Whadaya call yours?"

"Mostly ma, or mom, but if I wanted something, I’d sometimes call her Mommie," he says, smiling.

I chortle. "Sounds like you have a sweet relationship with her," I say, trying not to sound sorry for myself.

"Yeah, she’s the best. Raised me and my brother all by herself, after dad died."

"If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?"

"He was a cop—he died in the line of duty."

"I’m sorry," I say. "Did your mother have a problem with you becoming a cop too?"

"Yeah, at first, but after I told her I’d call her once a week to let her know I was okay, she felt better about it."

"So you call her every week?"

"Yep—every Friday ever since I graduated from the academy."

"Today’s Friday. Did you call her?" I ask, concerned.

"Yeah, I usually call her in the morning before I head out for the day, but enough about Ma. Let’s get back to my briefs and how I love em and I love the way you love me in em... and out of em," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

I snorted, shaking my head. I suddenly look off into space, thinking, and he notices.

"Whatcha thinkin about?" he asks.

"Us. How we started. I don’t think neither one of us thought we’d ever see each other again, but here we are."

"Yeah, cause I tracked you down, and I’m really sorry for being so sneaky about it."

I look at him and see the sincerity in his cobalt eyes. "The way you went about it wasn’t great, but I’m glad you did it." I get up from the table and hold out my hand. He takes it, and I lead him to the couch. We sit, and I wrap my arm around him, pulling him close. He grasps my hand hanging over his shoulder and drapes his leg over my thigh.

"Ya know what?" he asks, pressing his head against mine.

"What?" I reply, nestling mine against his.

"This is really nice," he says, snuggling closer to me. It’s like it’s just you and me...me and thee."
"Me and thee...I like the sound of that."

"Yeah, and ya know what else?"

"What?"

He moves out of the embrace to look into my eyes. "I love you."

His deep blue eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and his voice is a whisper, but I hear him loud and clear. He said the L-word. He said he loved me. My heart swells, and my eyes well up. What wasn’t needed to be said aloud has now been said. A definite verbal affirmation of the love that I’m sure we felt from the beginning—ever since the night I picked up that lonely boy in the rain, all those years ago.

I cup his face with both hands, wiping away an errant tear with my thumb, and say," I love you too."

Then we seal our declaration with a soft, tender kiss.

The End